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[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... | I've never been one to care much about games. Though I owned one of those gray brick Game Boys as a kid, I'd largely fallen out of gaming as my life grew busier with work, friends and family.
Smartphones changed all of that.
After the success of games like Minecraft and Candy Crush, not to mention augmented reality games like Pokémon Go, it was only a matter of time before technology and real life began to intersect. A new app, promoted heavily as a Lifestyle Improvement Solution by the federal government, offered Experience Points for all sorts of things. Suddenly, there were people happy to volunteer to help out at various events, if only for a measly 4 EXP.
So too did people start going out and killing mosquitoes en masse, as every death, somehow, either through drones or satellites or some sort of arcane paper pushing magic, was recorded.
Weekly and monthly quests that ranged from the easy (put your garbage and recycle bins out the night before pick up) to the challenging (moderate exercise at least two hours, five days a week) to the outright impossible (find a new source of platinum on your land).
Death was a big thing, especially after the Freedomites won the White House in 2024. They knew who the real problem was, they said. Criminals. The homeless. People with mental illnesses.
The quests became darker and more dangerous.
Shave a homeless man until he's hairless and power wash him until he's free of vermin.
Make people who are going off their meds take them on threat of a beating.
Post videos of destroying someone's drug stash along with their personal information.
It got worse before it got better.
Gun restrictions were loosened, but only for people who registered Freedomite, and they only allowed you to join if you could prove that you had three generations worth of white ancestors on both sides of your family.
It soon became a crime to have a tan.
Not literally, of course, but if someone looked at you and thought that you looked dark enough to be a criminal or one of the unclean unhoused, you were in for a world of hurt.
Murder used to mean something awful. Now they have shooting galleries for the "elite" that feature the highest scoring victims...or Freedom-Hating Criminals, as they have all been branded. EXP gained from taking these lives are minimal for the very rich, as they are all at levels that most of us consider "beyond the pay wall."
It doesn't stop them from "keeping up appearances."
There are still quests, but they're all twisted. They tell us to kill, injure, maim. They want us to tear each other apart, and for what?Many of us now refuse to play, though the app now comes standard on all phones; its red, unblinking eye seeing all.
I hadn't played in years when, one morning, while sitting alone at home, I heard the telltale sound, like a slow slide whistle, of my EXP bar filling. It went on for an hour- that terrible sound filling me with dread.
A cheerful trill sounded on my silent-mode-only phone, and I stared down at the cartoony envelope on the screen.
Hesitantly, I tapped it with my finger and confetti exploded around the screen
"Congratulations!" A cheery voice said, her false exuberance filling the kitchen. "You have been selected to receive 1500 EXP as part of our limited Citizen Run Event! The rules are simple. A lucky few are given large quantities of EXP to protect with their lives...literally! Your name, image and location are given to all participants twelve hours after, to give you a fair head start.
If you can hold onto your EXP until the first of the month, the change will be permanent. This is just another of the new benefits that we have been working on implementing for your enjoyment as a citizen of our free and glorious country!"
I stammered out an expletive and dropped the phone to the floor as the shock began to wear off and a deep sense of horror filled me.
"Now then, citizen." The recorded voice seemed to deepen, then, all traces of frivolity disappearing as it said one final word:
"Run." | I work at a cemetery and in lamence terms I'm the guy that buries the dead after the ceremonies. We had a lavish ceremony just recently. It had flowers placed everywhere, a refreshment table setup that had the best finger sandwhiches ever, a long black carpet layed a path that i imagined was for the pall bearers , and it had alot of people show up to pay their respects. Honestly I had never seen this many turnout in all the years I had worked there. It must had been a very important personal , but I digress.
As the ceremony started I noticed a group of three people who looked particularly distressed; a woman and two kids. I imagined it was the immediate family. As the pastor read the last rights and gave a prayer, I was given the go ahead by my supervisor to lower the casket. I wouldn't begin to dump the dirt until after the crowd had left.
It took about 45 minutes to refill the hole since our machinery had broken. Man I hadn't done physical work like that in a while. I was tired beyond belief. An idea popped into my head after my shift had ended. I felt like going home and opening a bottle of 25 year old whiskey I was saving. Man that stuff was amazing. I managed to finish half of the bottle in one sitting. Naturally I passed out.
The next morning I woke up and I was relieved to have recieved a phone call from my supervisor telling me to go ahead and take a day off. He didn't give a reason why even after I called him back to ask. He only said "something happened, but I'll keep you updated." I didn't think anything of it.
I went to turn my TV on to see if any soccer games were on. I like to watch the beautiful game. I flipped to my normal channel for soccer, but it seemed nothing was on. I then decided to start browsing channels and when I came across the news channel it caught my attention. A story was being talked about and it was centered around the cemetery I work at. I was confused but on the edge of my seat.
The news reporter had stated "A tragedy has struck here at the Arlington National Cemetary when it was discovered that a man recently buried had still been alive." I was frozen in my chair. I couldn't move except to turn the volume up. I kept telling myself "there's no way. It has to be someone else. It...cant be...me?"
After some time went by, the reporter said the man's name. "Captain John H. Miller..." fear had surged through my body. I had just buried that man! "After an autopsy occurred it was found out that Captain Miller had suffered from poisoning after ingesting some puffer fish. It had imitated him being dead and convinced everyone else that he was. The immediate family then arranged his burial where after being buried he suffocated." She said he had died around 3am.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I reached for the bottle of whiskey I had the night before and opened it to finish it off in an attempt to calm myself and take my mind off of what happened. But as I was drinking it I noticed my watch. It had a notification on it. I put the bottle down and opened the screen on my watch. It was an eEXP-4ALL notification. Fear once again struck my body. In an attemot to overcome my fear i opened the notification. I had gained 1500exp...at 3:23am. | 2017-05-15T13:45:43 | 2017-05-15T11:55:44 | 80 | 11 |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch. | Put this together quickly, any feedback is welcome - trying to get back in to writing.
“Will you just fuck off.”
“That seems a bit harsh! Why don’t you ever tell the other three to fuck off?”
“Because the other three are actually contributing to the mayhem around us, that is why!”
“Chill out, old man. If you keep on getting angry and what not, you will tire yourself out.”
“What on Earth do you mean?”
“Well, don’t you lot get tired being all angry and everything? I tell ya, yesterday, me and Daphne wandered over to these cute little village…well they got quite defensive, what with all the death and destruction and what not. I only wanted a drink! To cut a long story short, I ended up getting in a little fight, got all angry and what not. It tired me the hell out! Luckily, Daphne and I went back home pretty quickly…had a nice nap.”
“Kyle?”
“Yes, Mr. Famine?”
“Who the fuck is Daphne?”
“My horse!”
“You called your horse Daphne?”
“Well, at least she has a name! You guys haven’t even named yours.”
“Our horses don’t need a name. They are part of us, an extension of what we are.”
“Is that why whenever I go into the stables War’s horse always tries to bite me?”
“No. He tries to bite you because you are an irritant.”
Famine walked off, his sword needed sharpening. It had dulled throughout the day.
Kyle followed.
“Mr. Famine.”
“What?!”
“Did you ever see War Horse?”
“No. No I never saw War Horse.”
“You should have. It was great.”
“Kyle, why don’t you go and play with a bus?”
“A bus? They don’t really exist anymore Mr. Famine.”
Famine knelt down so that he was at eye contact with the short, unwanted Horseman.
“That was a gentle way of telling you to fuck off. I didn’t want to say that for fear of hurting your feelings.”
Kyle smiled. Of course, he smiled.
“Don’t worry Mr. Famine, you aren’t hurting my feelings. I understand what banter is.”
“This isn’t banter.”
“That is what Pestilence says too!”
There was a moment of silence. Famine shut his hateful eyes and tried to hold his breath, counting down from ten to one. This was going to be a stressful day.
One.
He could hear Kyle humming to himself.
Two.
Now Kyle had started tapping his foot.
Three.
Kyle must have seen a butterfly, he sounded like he was running around in circles.
Four.
He kept on sniffing. How did he have a blocked nose?!
Five.
He won’t stop sniffing.
Six.
Now he is sniffing AND tapping his foot.
Sev “What you doing Mr. Famine?”
“FINE!”
“Why are you shouting? Also, you need a mint.”
“I’m going out for a bit. Honestly, the fucking apocalypse is finally here and we get lumbered with you?”
“Classic banter Mr. F.” Kyle even replied with a wink and finger guns.
“Fuck this,” Famine placed his sword in his scabbard. “I’m going out.” He walked off towards to stables.
“Oh good! Daphne could do with a walk!”
| Code cracked out as fast as his fingers could type, and with his Morning Star gifts he was damn fast, though looking up from his laptop he was clearly not fast enough. Famine was already awake, doing her usual thing of spreading the ever moreish junk food to the refugees, who flocked to the truck like bees to those annoying desert flowers.
A hard tap on his shoulder, and Death's rasping voice sounded in his ear. "Kyle, will you please remember to shift your fucking laundry out of my kit bag!"
He looked behind back into the truck, and gave a sheepish grin. "If you will keep your stuff so close to mine, what'cha expect?"
Death pulled down his sunglasses, and gave him a long stare. "Father may have sent you to deal with the tech, but by all that is holy I swear one of these days..."
Dust kicked up from Death's heels as he stomped off, and by the time War joined Kyle on the bonnet of the truck eight refugees lay rapidly decomposing on the sandy track leading up to the UN headquarters.
In her sweetest diplomatic tone War pointed after him, "You are such a douche, you know that? Surely it wouldn't harm you to at least make an effort, we all share this space Kyle. God, you are such a jerk."
With a loud belch Pestilence announced himself, and lent over the bonnet, tipping it towards him. "Kyle, mate, you really need to get your act together, otherwise you can go..."
War shot him a warning, which Kyle was totally oblivious to. Without looking up from the keyboard he frantically tapped out the last series of instructions, and with a flourish hit enter. "Its done, we should have HBO sorted within the hour."
With a huge slap on the back Pestilence almost knocked him off the bonnet. "'Bout time. Been stuck in this hellhole waiting for instructions for too long." He jabbered at the laptop. "Think you can stream Game of Thrones?"
Dust kicked up as the wind rose, and Kyle pointed to the thousands of tents surrounding them. "Sure, but I think we'll put on a better show soon enough."
His sibblings exchanged glances, and War spoke in a hushed tone. "Jesus Kyle, how many times do we have to tell you to keep your voice down?"
More refugees swarmed around their other truck, eagerly grabbing hold of Famine's nutrient less food, and as the tide of starving refugees clamoured, Pestilence coughed all over them, disease and viruses gleefully carried on the wind. Kyle rolled his eyes, and went back to hacking his masterpiece. | 2017-09-22T03:42:51 | 2017-09-22T03:38:25 | 71 | 29 |
[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 | Due to various socioeconomic factors; 16 years ago there was an unprecedented baby boom. I was one of such born then. The rules are simple: one at a time you will approach the table and select a food from it. Upon eating the food, you will gain a power. We were told that we would have to each choose something different.
I was always a patient person. Never in a rush to go anywhere or do anything. I just sat quietly watching the others rush ahead. One girl ate a cherry, and gained the ability to blend into any crowd. Like a sort of active camouflage that she could activate at will.
A boy found a hot dog. He said that he didn't want to show off what power he got (although we later found out that his power wasn't too pleasant to look at). One after the other ate something.
I lost count how many different foods from a wide variety of regions were there. I eventually noticed something interesting. Every so often it appeared like the table was shrinking. I started to watch it closely.
A kid picked up a pie....Nothing. Then he ate a bite.
It shrank! Ever so slightly, but it did get smaller. Like it was adjusting itself for the amount of food left on it. Like it knew how much was on it. But it's just a table. It can't know; can it?
Bite after bite. Kid after kid. Little by little. It kept adjusting. There was never any new food being brought out. Just us kids, the food, and the table inside the room. I started to look around to see if anyone else had noticed or if the room were shrinking as well, but no one else seemed aware of the phenomenon with the table. The room was just as massive as when we had first started.
With less than 50 kids left; the table that was so massive one kid had to climb on top of it to get something or another out of the middle, now looked like a large banquet table. In what seemed like an instant, we were now down to 10 kids with a table that was about 2 feet square! I had gotten so enthralled at the strange table that I hadn't noticed just how few of us there were left.
We all formed a single file line, no reason to get into a fight like the guys that all wanted the porterhouse steak. One by one, they ate something. The guy in front of me said that he was sorry, but he had to eat something. I didn't know what he meant until I saw that there was nothing left. The table was now just the only thing left standing in the vast empty room with myself.
I looked around for something to eat. Nothing. The room, much like the table before me, was bare. I called out to whoever could hear for something, but no response ever came. I had never thought that this could happen. How could this massive table, well it was, run out of food. Did someone somehow eat more than one thing? What was I supposed to do?
I picked up the table, can I even still call it a "table"? It couldn't hold an olive on it even if it needed to. With no other option, I decided to make my final meal that table. I mean, I wouldn't live after eating a table, would I? What if it expanded out again? No. I had to eat something to leave the room. I hope that I don't get a splinter and I ate the table.
Upon swallowing the table, I looked around at the room and waited. This is the room that gifted so many with amazing powers and many others with very ordinary ones. I sat down, waiting for the table to do whatever it would. Waiting to leave the room. Why was I still here? What would happen if more kids suddenly teleported into the room? I could feel myself starting to panic. Then suddenly, black.
I awoke later inside my room, back at my desk where I had been studying before. I survived! The table didn't kill me. I was so happy to be out of that damn room. I looked down at my books, notepad, and pencil. Might as well finish these last few notes before class tomorrow morning. That's right. I had broken my last pencil before leaving. Now what was I supposed to do. I picked up the stub that still held the eraser on it. If only it were a bit longer I could sharpen it and finish.
I stood up and went to the restroom to wake myself up a bit. Splashing some water in my face and looking in the mirror, I was happy to not have any strange difference about myself. All seemed normal. Nothing different anywhere. Satisfied, and a bit disappointed, I went back to my room. Looking back at my stuff on the desk there was my pencil. Or was that mine. It was still broken, but now it was around 3 inches long.
That's when I learned that I gained the powers of the table. What ever I needed, I could adjust as I saw fit. I would be able to work in any industry that I wanted to. Need a part changed on a vehicle, but can't get your hand into the tiny space? Just make it larger, replace the part and shrink it back down. Need a surgical device to fit in a place too small? Shrink it down. I can only wonder what the limits of this power could be. | "This is the opposite of Santa Claus," I said to myself, as I shambled alone through an endless white expanse.Some things you believe as a child, then one day you realize it was all a game for children. With the *transition,* well, I have to admit I never believed it. Yet there I was and it seemed as real as anything.*Maybe I'm in the North Pole*, I thought as I continued to walk into nothing, contemplating what exactly qualifies as a reindeer game.
In the distance I saw something dark fade into view, it quickly grew til I realized it was flying towards me at a high speed.I braced myself, but it just flew past me in every direction; the white faded into a dark field of stars, as if I was flying through the night sky or outer space. All was silent but I could feel a wind from the field of stars as it wooshed by.
And suddenly I could see a.... table? flying towards me. I got low and got ready to catch it with my head down in a grimace. I was ready to possibly get wiped out by the fastest table I'd ever seen.
It stopped on a dime, 1 foot in front of me but I still came off my feet stumbling backwards like an idiot. And there it was, an empty wooden table. Four legs, brown finish, just like the stories. There was nothing on it, though.
At that thought, a tablecloth popped out of nothing and immediately after that all types of food imaginable as the table expanded far to either side.
"Woah," I whispered, coming to my feet.
All was silent for a moment as I walked by the tableside, looking at each platter before me. All manner of sandwiches, pasta dishes, seafood and meats with every type of garnish I had ever seen; Lasagna, Cake, Chicken Tikka Masala, Empanadas, Croissant Sandwiches, Chinese Takeout were all present. The first step towards making a decision would simply be to overcome all the sights and smells I was being overwhelmed by.
"Take a bite," commanded a deep voice, echoing from all around me, "It is time."
I had thought long and hard about what I would do. I had seen how those who said they had eaten different foods had turned out. The psychics and telekenetics had all ingested different fruits. Those with super strength had eaten corn on the cob or corn bread, which I just so happened to be looking at as I thought about them. A bite of a bean and cheese burrito would give you the power of super speed... I don't know why.
I had studied all my life for this moment, though I doubted it would ever come to be quite in this way. I wasn't going to waste this opportunity. I would make a move no one could have predicted... not even this booming voice, were it an all powerful deity or something.
I got on one knee right by the table, lifted the tablecloth and took a bite of the wood. I felt the grain of the table splintering and cracking between my teeth. I had prepared for this by drinking whole milk everyday for the past 10 years. I pulled a piece of the twisted and wet wood fibers with my mouth like a god-forsaken dog.
Finally, I was able to get a piece of the table in my mouth.
There was a pure silence now; an eery stillness. Then an explosion of red light from every pore of my body. I was infused with the red light, I became a part of the light as it became so bright and all encompassing that there was no boundary between me and it. I was almost driven mad by the humming of the light that got louder and louder until there was nothing but the light and the humming and they were both one and the same and I was one with them.
The redness dimmed and settled onto my skin, like soft cloth. I was somewhere else now, too. It was... well, it seemed to be a wooden cabin. I was fatter too, as if what I had eaten had an effect on my body.
*Ugh, what have I become?* I asked myself, feeling fat and disheveled. I buried my face in my hands to find I was wearing black mittens.
I looked to my right, at the mirror... to see I was none other than Santa Claus himself. I ho ho hoe'd at the ceiling but there was no response save for the blizzard outside my window in the north pole. My very hubris had sealed my fate to hand out presents every year for eternity.
This story is canon. | 2020-03-19T09:40:00 | 2020-03-19T09:29:08 | 198 | 29 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | "With all due respect Ambassador, we are underestimating the Humans".
There. I said it. A career ending sentence. A diplomatic functionary of the Fourth Resource is only permitted into meetings merely to attend to more senior entities. That's all. To speak in anything other than a hushed whisper is unthinkable. To address the Ambassador directly is a fast track to dismissal, ignominy, shame.
The Ambassador's optical fronds focused upon me. They indicated equanimity, calm. It was receptive. Faznark. I couldn't back down now.
"Every species develops nuclear fission weaponry as an adjunct to energy research. This is not the case with Humans. They developed nuclear weapons precisely because they wanted to use them." Shock. Dismay. "They were engaged in a Total War at the time. They developed fission weapons, tested them, and immediately then began bombing cities - those are their Hive equivalents - and only ceased upon surrender of the opposing force."
I had the attention of the whole assembly now. Optical fronds and aural elevators focused upon me. Gulp. I displayed images of mushroom clouds and irradiated human victims. This caused consternation. Many entities who had previously indicated skepticism now indicated alarm, surprise, disgust.
"After detonation of the fission weapons upon cities, their understanding of the consequences of usage expanded in a logarithmic manner. Incredibly, this did not deter them. They not only expanded their arsenals, they next created fusion weapons." Disarray. Outrage. Disbelief. The Ambassador quickly swiveled his optical fronds, commanding silence. "I displayed images of inter-continental ballistic missiles. "When they developed rocketry, it wasn't to explore beyond their planet as it always is with other species. The rockets were designed primarily to carry fusion warheads. The cities of other factions were targeted, even though they were not in a state of war." This caused much disbelief. The Ambassador queried me.
"How is it that this is unknown, if it is indeed true?" Many optical fronds and aural elevators now indicated agreement, and support for the Ambassador's query. High quality response imperative.
"This happened over two Baxors ago. Standard history review for an Applicating Species is one Baxor." Once more, the Ambassador indicated calm, readiness to receive further information. "Almost every discovery Humans made was preceded by the military counterpart. Example One: personal navigation equipment was preceded by sophisticated targeting systems for cross-continental delivery of fusion weapons. Example Two: turbinial atmospheric aircraft propulsion was developed for combat aircraft, and only much later used for civilian transport. Example Three: semiconductor-based programmable computational electronics was developed for forced de-cryption of enemy messages and for computation of ballistic tables used for artillery - a tube-based delivery system for high explosives." I caused images to be displayed alongside these revelations. Silence. Unease. "The longest period of peace known to humans preceded their realization of the probability of non-human sentient life within the radius of a light-Baxon from their home planet. In short, the human history which we reviewed was atypical of their species' average. The intensity which they bring to war is sobering. Their willingness to risk immolation or even termination, and to accept high rates of both in wartime is terrifying. Suggestion: dis-engage from Total War with humans, and commence comprehensive review of historical human war fighting capabilities. Submission for review: their reputation as perennial non-combatants and weaklings should be given primary re-consideration focus."
Worry. Anxiety. Unease.
The Ambassador paused, engaged in cogitation. His optical fronds shielded his receptors. His aural elevators were made flaccid.
The alarms broke the silence. The entire human fleet dropped out of hyper-space. It was huge. Over two hundred thousand component vessels of Flagellant Class or better. How had the humans expanded their tiny fleet so quickly? How had they approached unnoticed? Then something happened which sealed our doom. Another human fleet dropped out of hyper-space, this one even bigger than the first. Then another, and another. We were truly Faznarked now.
Great was our relief when the humans opened communication, and transmitted the terms of our surrender. |
Obligatory first post, and really first attempt at writting anything beyond business reports since school more than a decade ago. Plus I'm on mobile. Constructive criticism always welcomed.
_____
They were first recognized by the universal tribunal 300 years ago. In that time they've done little more than barter and travel to mostly empty planets dropping off a handful of their people to mine and "research".
How they are the dominant species on such a biodiverse planet is a mystery we've all pondered. Hell they don't even have the anatomy to even sense the full spectrum of light and energy available on their planet. They have only five senses and they are all tied to their physical anatomy. They don't have telekenisis or the ability to share thoughts directly.
It has frankly been offensive to have to treat them as equals. They are weak, of both mind and body. Taking insults with a smile. Weaklings. Always offering to help with their ever present politeness. Makes the acid drip from my eyes just thinking about it.
We on the other hands, have been the dominant species on the tribunal for several millenia. We take what we want and can defeat all the others in ritual combat. So when we discovered that their solar system was rich in dark matter we jumped at the chance to take over.
We started on the farthest reaches of their system. The first few skirmishes went as expected but as we closed in on their homeplanet we got some ristence. No matter we've gone silent for sometime now. About 20 rotations of their system. They will have forgotten about us by now. They have not given any indications at the tribunal meetings that they know who attacked them. They've just offered furthering diplomatic relations and pleading for the tribunal to act on their behalf. Cowards. Weaklings.
Today though, today we shall remind them of our presence. Today we will destroy their home planets. We've been biding our time just outside the system's 10th planet's orbit, they don't even know we're here. They will soon enough. I sent the message to our fleet. It should only be a matter of minutes for this to be all over. It will be satisfying to wipe these, these primitives off the face of the universe.
Minister, we've received word from the humans. They claim to have come under attack from the Aether Luminites. They claim they had no choice but to act in self defense. They claim they have eradicated them from existence. We dispatched several messeges to Aether Lumineh but have received no word from the government centers. In fact there are no signals from there or any of the other Luminite worlds. Only silence.
Murak had stopped listening to his aide. "What have I done?" he thought. "Sir? Minister are you alright?" The aide was asking. Just then another transmission from the humans. "When we discovered you, we allowed your existence for the sake of research and knowledge. We came to you in peace and were rebuffed and insulted. Called weak and insignificant and finally attacked. Now you'll know our true nature. We are unrelenting. We are uncontionable. We are unkind. We are undying. We are at war. "
Murak was unaware he had crossed the eternal veil just as he finished hearing the message. | 2019-11-24T16:08:56 | 2019-11-24T14:40:25 | 98 | 49 |
[WP] There is a place. A place between places. It's an actual place but it isn't here nor there. Lost travelers are the only ones who can find the place. Staying for a night, safe from other places and other things, and nothing more. Except you. You were born in the place.
(edit: super happy folks are having fun with this! Keep it up!) | I pause. I thought I heard something, but it was so faint.
Sighing, I get up from my seat by the fire, always better to check. One can never be sure here and helping the lost is the only purpose I’ve ever had. No friends, no family, except the temporary ones, I don’t know how I came to be, or even when, just that I have always been.
The door opens with a creak and a flurry of snow blows in. Huh… Last time it was a desert. Cautiously, I look around, nothing but a dark and snowy forest.
Closing the door, I return to my seat, picking up a book left by one of the grateful lost. I am the one truly grateful. Food and such appears in the pantries, but entertainment is in short supply and as I cannot leave, not like I can seek my own.
There it is again.
That faint sound.
I go to the door again. This time I spend a moment more and look all around.
I see it.
A tiny gray thing, huddled up under the sill of the window. Having been spotted, it mewls faintly, weak but determined.
I scoop it up, tucking it inside of my robes. Inside, I dry it and set it out a saucer of milk, lightly warmed by setting near the fire.
An hour later, a soft mote of dust lays curled and purring on my lap by the fire.
I’m not sure how this one became lost or where they were going.
The next morning, the storm has passed and the forest lays blanketed. I open the door hesitantly. I’ll be sad to see this guest go, but such is the way.
My guest stares up at me with golden eyes and lets out a plaintive meow, as if to say, you’re letting the cold in, then stalks to my chair, hops up and curls up.
I hesitate a moment, then close the door.
That night there is a strident knock. Without hesitation I go to the door, expecting to see the forest. Beyond the door, I am shocked to see a dusty street and a road weary traveler standing patiently.
I invite him in, the legends have made travelers aware, they know of the safety to be found here, only for a night, but what they need is here.
After settling the traveler, I look over at the cat. This has never happened before. The location has never changed while a traveler remains. The cat looks back with unblinking stare, flicks an ear and curls back up, a clear statement of, “what? I’m not going anywhere.”
A few years have passed. The cat, unnamed, as am I, remains. I finally have a friend.
Shhh. Do you hear something?
Snowy gales beat the door. Yes…definitely something there… | Who am I and where are we you ask? the former is both a very simple and very complicated question the latter is just complicated.
so to the former, the simple answer is I am Perdita. The complicated answer is I am the Queen of ~~Nothing~~. That's where you are by the way. This humble house of mine is the only thing here and that's what I've taken to calling it, ~~Nothing~~.
Its surprising that you even made it here in the first place. This is a place for only the most thoroughly lost after all and you seem to have a good head for directions.
Me? I was born here. but you. to get here you must have been truly lost to end up in Nowhere.
So the second question, right. This is ~~Nothing~~, my house, it sits in the middle of ~~Nowhere~~. ~~Nowhere~~ is where you end up if you get lost trying to go anywhere from ~~Somewhere~~ or somewhere from ~~Anywhere~~. To arrive at ~~Anywhere~~ you have to get lost going from ~~Here~~ to ~~There~~ and to reach ~~Somewhere~~ you have to get lost going anywhere from ~~Here~~ or ~~There~~. ~~Here~~ is reached by getting lost where you are and ~~There~~ is reached by reaching your destination without actually having a destination.
I'll give you a second. It can take a while to wrap your head around....
....
....
Leaving? I'm afraid that isn't so fast a process. If this were any of the other places I mentioned simply trying to go somewhere specific and not getting lost on the way is good enough but not so much for here. Try getting anywhere once you arrive and you just find yourself ending up back in the middle of ~~Nowhere~~, outside my door.
That said, a good nights rest can find you right back where you ought to be. we can talk more in the morning if you're still around when I wake up. The Guest room is upstairs on the left and feel free to help yourself to my fridge. I'm turning in early. | 2022-11-22T09:26:46 | 2022-11-22T07:16:55 | 45 | 17 |
[WP] You notice a pattern, anytime your child is recorded they inevitably look directly at the camera and say one word seemingly random word. You begin to listen to the videos from first to last, as you finish the last one your child walks in and makes eye contact. "today." | **My(37M) wife(34F) has been looking through videos and has found that our son (7) only speaks one word in each video. The words in order of the videos seem to make a sentence. She thinks our son is trying to tell us something. Like a warning. Help!**
My wife has been all over this Facebook thing. Recently she has be insistent that we delete all of our data on Facebook and transfer it to a Zip drive via email. She has been going through the videos and pictures doing a delete and keep. She has finished up all of the pics and has moved on to the videos. The thing is our son’s videos seem to be different than the rest and only for the past few months. For instance up until about two months ago he would talk like every other kid his age now he only speaks one word while looking at the camera. Then he runs away or he starts playing again.
My wife being the best woman in the world has gone through them and seems to be going crazy. She thinks he is trying to tell us something. She has decided to write down every word from every video he is in when the one word videos started.
So far she has the words: *mom, and, dad, you, need, to, listen, to, me, we, are, all, in, grave, danger, they, are, coming, for, us, they, are, coming*
My wife thinks honestly that he is telling us or warning us of something. I don’t know what to believe. Is he a warning us or have we just caught him mid sentence or we didn’t catch the entire conversation.
The part about my wife that is also troubling is, she has taken this to heart. She actually thinks he is warning us and has began to be a little paranoid. She has spent countless hours and days looking at the videos and rewatching them. She has been on detective mode. It is putting a strain on our relationship. When it could be something else. It’s getting pretty bad.
So fellow redditors what do I do? Do I take this as a ominous warning or do I get my wife help? I think my wife is going crazy.
TL;DR: wife has been going through videos from Facebook and has found videos of our son saying just one word. She has put the words in order and it seems to come out as a sentence. It’s straining our marriage. Is my wife going crazy.
Edit: thanks for all the comments. I am going to talk to her and get her away from the videos. Maybe a nice date and take the kids to the park.
Edit 2: Date went nice. I was able to convince her to stop with the videos and that it could really be anything.
Edit 3: while at the park we were videoing the kids our son came up and said *today* to the camera and ran way. What does that even mean? Now my wife is freaking out and pulled out the list of words from her purse. She has given me the new sentence. She is crying.
New sentence: *mom, and, dad, you, need, to, listen, to, me, we, are, all, in, grave, danger, they, are, coming, for, us, they, are, coming, today*
What am I going to do? She thinks this means people are coming for us today.
Edit 4: several men have pulled up to the house in white vans.
I’ll keep you updated if anything happens. | At first, our Brandon's little quirk had been endearing and cute. Every time we recorded him, ever since he could speak, he'd look right at the camera and just say a random word. It was funny, and we told our friends about his little habit. We guessed that it was a byproduct of how inundated everyone was with technology these days- even the children.
One day, one of our friends had asked us to make a compilation of the times he had exhibited those strange behaviors. Of course, I obliged- We'd probably talked their ears off about how cute Brandon was for the past few years, so they were due for a little payback. Of course, it helped that I wanted to see it for myself.
So, I started to go back into our histories, stitching together every moment from when Brandon had begun to speak. In doing so, I'd learned that he'd started actually speaking more than "mama" and "dada" at around the age of 3. Seemed fairly normal to me, though I had only ever had one child and I didn't subscribe to reading a million different books about 'how to be a dad', so I might have been wrong.
What wasn't normal were the words being spoken. We'd never really thought about it before, but they were rather advanced for a boy of his age. "Arrival." "Destruction." "Reckoning." Even so, it wasn't until I'd completed the compilation did I realize that there was a thread between each word. That it formed something real. I pressed play on the newly finished video I'd spent the last few hours on and listened.
"The". It almost sounded like "da". "day". This one was pronounced better, probably easier for him to say at the time. "that." I perked up. The day that? I stopped listening to *how* he'd been saying the words and instead focused on *what* he had been saying.
"The day that he makes his arrival shall be the day of destruction and reckoning. That day is." The video stopped. For all my editing, it was barely twenty seconds long. It was broken up, and spoken in the high, squeaky voice of a four year old, but it was there.
Brandon stumbled into my room, squealing as he got himself up from the ground. I turned in my chair, staring at him. He looked at me.
"Today! Today, daddy!" He giggled at me. "We're going to the beach today!" The video flashed in my mind. That day is...
Outside my window, the midday world grew dark.
___
Check out my subreddit, /r/OpiWrites, for more stories! | 2018-04-15T09:50:27 | 2018-04-15T08:28:35 | 1,181 | 136 |
[WP] People believe the Gods decide all of our fates, but they've actually been rolling d20s to make decisions for millions of years | God have not seen such a fiery soul in a long time
He was looking at 20's Germany. War was over yet there was another war for them because the conditions of Treaty of Versailles were too much demanding and aggressive for the country. As he watched a young man giving a speech to the crowd about the future of Germany with full of patriotism charm and devotion yet God noticed something else in his all fired up eyes... The hatred.
He called one of his angels, "Gabriel lend me the dice" . The messenger of god handed the dice without any question, it will be fun to watch because God hadn't played this game for a while.
"You are right" God replied the angel "It will be amusing."
So he rolled for the success of the speech ... a solid 20.
He watched how crowd was going crazy with each word of young man. Than because it was a critical success he rolled three other dice, one for fate, one for lifetime and last one was a bonus because of the previous 20.
Gabriel was looking suprised at God, he though maybe he forgot the rules because this game wasn't played for a while
"No Gabriel , you remember it right. It is just 5th edition , i decided to change some rules after my last game in Arabia."
Than he rolled.
10,6 and 18
"Okay" God said, "Write it down Gabriel."
"Adolf Schicklgruber renamed as Adolf Hitler. He will be the next chancellor of Germany and will reign for 12 years. He will have a succesful political career due to his bonus 18. Although i can not say the same thing for his fate, he will be the one of the most charismatic leader germans ever seen and will cause a war which will end in 9 years as his life.He will experience a mental breakdown in later years and he will suffer a huge defeat in war with Russians which will eventually lead him to commiting suicide in year 1944."
Gabriel was impressed but had a question, he tried to ignore it but his urge to ask was so strong. Eventually he stopped resisting:
"But Lord you never rolled for the war with Russians, why is he failing at it?"
God replied,
"He will wage the war during winter Gabriel, that does not require any roll." | Hands shaking. Sweaty forehead. At this exact moment in time, he knows that all of his hard work, all of his investments, are up in the air. There has never been a more at stake.
For a brief moment, he questions his methods. Surely he shouldn't leave such an important decision, with human possible human extinction, to chance.
"I will never intervene again." He hangs his head distraught, those words have never haunted him to such a severity. He reaches for the die, but pauses.
"If I can't keep my promises, how could I fairly cast judgment on others? If I can't remain righteous, how can I expect that of the mortals?"
He grabs yet a second die.
"I'll let the die decide: 10 or lower I leave it to fate, higher and I decide."
A single tear emerges as he prepares the second die that absolutely must be rolled now; feels like it has infinite weight.
He breaths in deeply, closes his eyes, and throws the die with a purpose that hasn't been seen in a millennia.
"That's it then, may...I...have mercy on their souls."
Tears follow. Mistakes were made, regrets were had.
----------------------------
"And the results are in! Donald Trump is the 45th President of the United States!"
r/Promptfeces | 2018-06-28T14:26:52 | 2018-06-28T11:27:51 | 34 | 22 |
[WP] Across the galaxy, a synthetic drug known as "Fury" is illegal everywhere due to its effects on the mind and body, humans call it Adrenalin and they can make it naturally. | “They can’t milk you if there is nothing to take.”
I’ll never forget my mother burning this into my brain as soon as I was old enough to understand English.
“Your survival depends on learning not to fear, and unfortunately there is only one way to train you.”
I shivered. My mother’s stern voice alone scared the ever loving crap out of me at the time. I thought she was just going to spank me or something. If only I had known what true fear was, and what she was saving me from.
As humans, we have a natural “fight or flight” response. A burst of adrenaline that gives us temporary super powers. Within our own bodies we produce the magic elixir of super speed, remarkable strength, or heightened senses.
At 4 years old, my training began. She started with the classic childhood fears. Dressing as a monster in my closet, locking me alone in a pitch black room, hiding a rat in my bed. As I grew older, she raised the stakes. Stranding me on a narrow cliff edge, throwing me overboard in the middle of the ocean, driving over 100 mph on a narrow one-lane road. I learned the hard way that the only thing for me to fear truly was fear itself. As long as I stayed calm and managed my adrenaline, I would pass the test and the torture would end. Naturally, with puberty came the next phase: fight.
I was angry. I was sick of the abuse. I wanted to fight. My mother knew it was time to change her approach. So she taught me meditation. How to control my mind and my emotions. How to defend myself, while maintaining composure. I was becoming a man. She knew she was running out of time.
On my 18th birthday, I was drafted for the fury farms. My mother showed no emotion as they collected me from my childhood home, but I knew that if she had allowed herself, she would have been terrified for me, or she would have fought them to the death to help me escape. But she was too smart for that.
I was taken immediately to the medical ward for my physical evaluation. I failed with flying colors. I was utterly worthless to them. Not a drop of adrenaline in my body. Nothing to fear, no desire to fight. I would be honorably discharged and sent on my way. Until the nurse came in to disconnect me. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen in my life. My heart began to race, my hands became clammy. She took one look at my vitals and I knew the jig was up. Shit.
| You look back at Human history and you see we were always looking at the stars. Squatting in a cave, harvesting fire from trees hit by lightning and eating the carrion left by real predators we looked up in wonder and since then we've never settled right on our own world. We came a long way, that path was not clean but we progressed by one means or another. Eventually we found ourselves among the stars and we did not find ourselves to be alone. In our dreams with space would come peace and plenty and joy. Wouldn't you know it though, it just brought more war and want and suffering. Our little corner of space is held tight by the First Fleet and the Arbiters of the Terran Republic. Of course that stuffy, bureaucratic mess of a system isn't for all of us. I never liked it and soon found my way out. Once you get out of the Terran system it's pretty easy for a Human to find work, if you don't mind getting your hands very, very dirty of course. Everyone wants to be a bounty hunter but only so much work to be found in that and competition is fierce. Many end up as bouncers, enforcers or general muscle. That wasn't me though, I got something a little different. I guess I'm basically a bomb, or a bio-weapon, or whatever the hell you want to call it. A war-loving species called the Krell have me on retainer. Whenever they find a particularity tough enemy they shove me in a drop pod and launch me at whatever is giving them trouble. One pissed off human can do a hell of a lot of damage. Not long before the bastards surrender... Or if they don't... Well, I can't be held responsible for what I do when I'm raging out.
EDIT: Spelling and grammatical errors. | 2018-03-19T01:26:35 | 2018-03-18T16:35:16 | 46 | 18 |
[WP] “I am Lucifer, The Morning Star, The Firstborn, The Second Light, The Prince of Lies, The Adversary, The Dragon, The Serpent, Lord Of Evil, The First of The Fallen and I came here for one thing and one thing only” As he said this he summoned forth a Switch. “I came here to Brawl” | "Lucifer, no!" Chloe snatched the Switch from his hand, much to the Devil's surprise. "The last time I let you play that stupid game in my home, Trixie was up all night crying because you were cheating."
-
Lucifer reeled back in indignation, yet his charming smile only widened. "I don't cheat, Detective. If the designers didn't want me to spam arrows as Young Link they wouldn't have put the ability to do so in the game. Besides, it's good for the little... thing... to get used to disappointment."
-
"Go home, Lucifer. I can't deal with this right now. Get Maze to play with you."
-
"A brilliant idea, if it wasn't for the fact that, well," he leaned in to whisper. "She *does* cheat. She must, otherwise how else would she keep winning? But you, you need to loosen up a bit, take some time to relax and unwind with some healthy competition! What do you say, Detective? Let's Smash!""
-
Detective Decker rolled her eyes and walked away from him and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. She set the Switch down on a messy spread of manila folders, photos, and other documents.
-
"I really don't have time for this. I'm getting nowhere on this case and you're not even pretending to help." With elbows on the table, she propped her head to despondently gaze over the mountain of information, hoping a clue would just jump out and present itself. "We need a break in this case soon. Someone else is going to die unless--"
-
She went silent. Lucifer's smile melted into a look of concern as he quickly stepped to her side.
-
"Detective, what's the matter?"
-
Chloe pulled a half-buried paper out of a stack and held it up in one hand, the Switch in the other.
-
"Unless," she said triumphantly, a grin spreading across her lips. "You, Lucifer, are the answer to my prayers."
-
Lucifer adjusted his lapels confidently. "I've been trying to tell you that... Detective?"
-
She had already gone. | *I kneel down onto the dirt, slicing my hand ever so slightly with the silver knife.*
"Great Lord of the Dark, I bring to you but a simple request..."
*I let blood drip into the ceramic bowl at the center of the red spray-painted pentagram. The symbol surrounding me begins to glow red.*
"I wish to test my worthiness against thee through but a simple contest..."
*I lay the Switch on the ground in front of me as the land begins to heat up. Clouds from nowhere shoot forth lightning that cracks above my head, the thunder resounding through every bone.*
"If thy presence shall be granted, I only hope that thee accepts my challenge..."
*The air crackles as a billion volts strike the ground before where I am kneeling. I bow my head.*
"O' Great Lord..."
*He speaks.*
“I am Lucifer, the Morning Star, the Firstborn," *He stops, taking in his surroundings. The forest must have been unexpected.*
"The Second Light, the Prince of Lies, the Adversary, the Dragon, The Serpent, Lord Of Evil!" *He smiles down at me, offering me a hand to help me up. I accept.*
"I am the First of the Fallen and I came here for one thing and one thing only..."
*In a flash of bright orange flame, He summons forth a Switch.*
“...I came here to Brawl." | 2020-02-22T18:53:00 | 2020-02-22T18:00:54 | 28 | 18 |
[WP] Write a suicide note in a Dr. Suess like fashion. | I've made up my mind, this is the end
I've said my goodbyes to family and friends
However they don't know that I'm leaving tonight
I've struggled too long and can no longer fight
I walk back home after a long day of work
And get on reddit to routinely lurk
I see a post on "W-P"
And smile slightly at the irony
Dr. Seuss? I've read a book or two
If I can recall a red fish and a blue?
And who could forget green eggs and ham?
My mother used to read it as well as my Grams
My eyes started to water as I closed my computer
Then a knock at my door, who was this intruder?
I wipe my face as well as my nose
And walk to the door as I straighten my clothes
I crack it open and to my surprise
There stood the pizza delivery guy
Paranoid. Did he know? Probably not
I guess I ordered but must've forgot
But then the name on his shirt caught my eye
And I let out a soft chuckle mixed with a cry
He tried to calm me down but it was no use
Then he hugged me. The man's name, Seuss.
| Although it seems like I am happy.
My life right now is rather crappy.
Times are tough and moneys tight.
But that's OK cause it ends tonight.
I wish you well, and all the best.
I'm glad to get this off my chest.
By the time you read my one last quote.
You will realize it's my suicide note.
With love in my heart, I bid you farewell.
Fuck this world,I'll see you in hell.
| 2015-01-17T09:55:19 | 2015-01-17T05:25:17 | 120 | 42 |
[WP] A professor stands in front of a class on the first day of term for “Time Travel 101” and explains why no one is allowed to go to Steven Hawking’s party. | Time travel 101, if you learn anything in this class I hope you learn that time is a fickle thing, mess with it and you don't come out the other side as you are.
Now you might have heard several rules of time from your fellow seniors, the most curious of which, don't visit Hawking's party. It's not that you can't, well you obviously can, and many have tried before you.
Now's the time to wonder why you haven't heard of any stories about that. You see, when time travel was first discovered, two theories were proven. One: there is only one timeline, and Two: there are multiple timelines. Both these statements are true.
In short, time is not a universal linear experience, instead it depends on the observer. You are each in your own timeline parallel to each other, but at the same time you can only move in your own timeline, of which your actions affect your own future.
So now comes the question, why does everyone experience the same past if we are in our own timelines? It turns out, when time travel was invented, the very moment it was discovered, something changed in how time operates. As similar to the double slit experiment, the mere observation of a process affected the outcome for which is recorded.
So can you go back to Hawking's party? Yes, but does anyone know what will happen if you do so? No, because no one has been recorded of attempting it. The mere fact that there is no record of such an event, even of failures to make contact with Hawking, further emphasizes that someone did attempt it. Thus the question my dear, now becomes... What happened?
Tread carefully my students. | "Now class, the basic rule of time travel is that events which have experienced by someone else cannot be changed by any means. It has long been said that, if records were good enough, any time traveler would be able to look into said records and figure out exactly what they did in the past, step for step, word for word. With that in mind, Miss Withersby, it is impossible to go to Stephen Hawking's time traveler party. Why? Because the historical record already says no one showed up. Dozens of your fellow first years have tried and failed to get to that party, but were all stymied for one reason or another. You are welcome to try if you'd like, but you will fail, and almost certainly in a way that I can use as a funny anecdote for next year's class. Does anyone else have any questions before I dismiss you all for the day?" | 2022-09-24T21:31:14 | 2022-09-24T20:00:38 | 828 | 32 |
[WP] Someone wakes up, prepares some coffee, and drinks it | It's your routine. It's what you do.
You get out of bed, you make coffee, you wake up.
The baby was crying, so I got up. There was such a mess I decided to give her a bath, so I started running the water. Carefully tweaking the two bronze handles, I made sure the water was warm. Just the right temperature for her - not too hot, not too cold. Her crying subsided a little bit as the sound of the water running in the tub always seemed to pacify her.
God I need coffee.
I slip out for a moment to fill the kettle and put it on the stove. Ah, *cowboy blend*, freshly ground yesterday. Damn I had forgotten how good this stuff smells.
The aroma rises out of the bag and I sigh. Without bothering to grab a scoop, I pour the grounds right into the French press. Sitting at the table, the whistle of the kettle pulls my drowsy head back up and toward the stove. I pull myself up and remove the kettle, making sure to turn off the eye.
It will need to cool a bit. Not too hot, not too cold. Just the right temperature.
How long had I been dozing there? I wondered suddenly.
It's what you do. You get out of bed, you make coffee, you wake up.
The soothing sounds of running water, the whistle of the kettle, the cooing of the baby.
The silence of the baby. The silence of the baby in the tub. The dark, ever expanding puddle on the carpet outside the bathroom door.
Oh God.
| I rolled out of bed at the alarm blared, light filling my small apartment, filtering through dirty windows. Her clothes are still there, on my desk chair. She never fucking put her clothes away.
I make some coffee, revelling in my efficiency as I fill the cup just as the kettle boils. I stir sugar in with a fork, because she never washes up the teaspoons.
I sit uncomfortably on the edge of the sofa, sipping my coffee. I still don't feel quite at home here. Her boxes are still on the sofa. We would have unpacked this weekend. Her photos would have gone on the wall, after the inevitable fight about the colour of frames. I place the mug down. It'll stain. She'd have wanted me to use a coaster. Shame she never liked coffee much. | 2013-12-19T09:14:24 | 2013-12-19T08:34:57 | 59 | 24 |
[WP] You obtain a device that tells you exactly what choices to make in order to lead the "happiest" life possible. Some of these choices get hard to make. | The App's tagline was: "**We'll get you where you where you want to go.**"
It had offered Consolidation, Confidence, Closure, Peace.
He entered his choice.
"*No.*"
and The App went to work. A single tap and it had accessed his life.
His accounts,his cloud storage and accounts, his social media presence. The entirety of what there was to know about him, the app burrowed into and went to work. It knew everything.
It had begun to, slowly, deliver.
He'd woken up from a bought of night-sweats to a text to speech voice reading something. An email from his father. Emails from his friends. Contacts that had gone dark over the years. Contacts he'd lost the strength to pick up as they'd started falling through his fingers.
It had reached out. It had shouldered that crushing, anxious weight for him.
It had told them everything. It had put words to the hole that he'd seen open up in his life and let others see it.
They'd started reaching back out. They'd started calling when he hadn't responded. The App started picking up for him, without prompting.
The App had started displaying prompts for what to say to give substance to his fall, to give reality to what had been a crisis that he'd only been able to manage through self medication.
And they'd listened as he read the prompts. They didn't hear his cursing and screaming at them when the effort of defying addition was too much. The app muted those outbursts. Censored his texts. Edited his emails. Caught him when he fell and made sure others were there.
Like the EMT team it had dialed during that cold December night. When he'd looked at the prompt and hit the "*No.*" option before drifting to sleep in the snow in an opiate haze.
Hitting "*No.*"' was easy.
Every time he hit "*No*." The App did the heavy, difficult lifting while he built strength recovering from falling down, Did what it could to fix things. Make them right again.
It had downloaded a N.A. program. It showed his days in recovery.
0.
30.
60.
120
240.
0.
Even then it had managed to be there for him, waiting for the choice.
"*No*".
Again.
30.
Constant check ins from people in his contacts, messages all about finding that center he'd lost.
60.
Videos about recovery emailed daily.
120.
Testimonials and documentaries waiting for him when he was alone and the itch began.
240.
Appointment reminders for support groups he'd never looked into. Meetings it had made for him. Calls from sponsors he'd never reached out to.
480.
He was making it.
The App had delivered.
Peace was not easy. The road to Peace was heavy, smothering, exhausting.
The App was there for him during the steps. Every step towards clearing the road. Sweeping away the debris.
Cleaning his life. Cleaning his body. Tracking his steps. Displaying his GPS location. Watching where he went. How long he stayed. Who he was near.
Making sure he if he tasted something else, something darker, something sharp and unconcerned, that it was ready.
0.
It reached out. He hadn't answered.
It had been letting him know that he had put every effort in.
It knew how difficult it was.
"*No*."
0.
It had known where he was.
It had followed his failures.
It had been letting him try.
It had directed him to the bridge. To face east. To watch the sun come up. To try the metaphor, the warmth, the rebirth, one more time.
It displayed the prompt. The choice.
The choice he knew would bring peace.
The choice he had been answering "*No.*" to.
"**Are you Ready?**"
*"Yes."*
The prompt continued for the first time since he'd activated The App.
"**Put me down.**"
"**Breath.**"
"**Remove your shoes.**"
"**Jump.**"
| I've always been ambitious. Even as a little kid, I always wanted to be the best in the class, the star of the show, the captain of the soccer team. For the most part, my drive to succeed has treated me well. No one but a teacher's pet knows the shit that I got away with in middle school and high school.
In college, I used every resource that I could to do well. I became friends with older students to get access to their old tests. I became a regular at my professors' office hours. I worked part-time in a research lab, giving up my free time to become the best applicant that I could.
"It's worth it." I told myself. "Once I'm accepted to medical school, I'll be happy." I knew that happiness was earned with hard work and sacrifice.
Flash forward to graduation. My cap and gown are garnished with honors cords and medals of achievement. I've been accepted to a prestigious medical school. I tell myself that it's finally happening. I'm living my dream.
A few days later, I unwrap my graduation presents. There's one tiny box without a card or a note attached. I open it, curious. Inside is a beautiful watch. I put it on and admire how it looks on my wrist. As I watch the delicate second hand tick, tiny script appears on the watch face.
"Welcome to happiness!" As I read the miniscule writing, the words are replaced.
"Don't forget to write thank-you notes!"
Though it seems a little weird, I know that I should follow the watch's advice. I send out my thank yous the next day. Over the next week, the watch continues to give me sound advice. It tells me to call my grandma, to be kind to the checkout girl, where to find my sister's lost toy. I follow the watch's instructions because they seem harmess enough. I soon notice that the watch is helping me out. When it tells me to take a different route to my summer job one day, a massive accident occurs on my usual route. The watch reminds me of the felix felicis potion from Harry Potter. Every choice I make is the right choice.
By the time I go away to medical school, I've become very attached to the watch. Over four years of medical school, my lucky watch leads me in a new direction. My hypercompetitiveness is all but gone. I still study hard, but I've learned to value things other than achievement. My new outlook (and my watch) find me life-long friends and a great relationship. After four years, I'm happier than I've ever been. I originally thought that medical school would lead me into ground-breaking research in a lucrative field, but I decide to pursue oncology and become a specialist for cancer patients in an underserved rural area.
My life doesn't follow the path that I originally mapped out, but I am happy. Over the years, I stop looking at the watch regularly. I only consult it for big decisions.
After decades of happiness, I think back on all the "difficult" decisions that I've made. Many of my former classmates are now powerful and famous. I could have been one of them, but I don't regret anything. I've lived a happy, fulfilling life. | 2016-05-05T08:20:03 | 2016-05-05T07:04:45 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] You are a professional bounty hunter. You specialize in hunting targets who are immortal. It impossible to kill them but over the years you have used various creative ways to ‘kill’ them. | It may not be the prettiest job. But dealing with unrowdy Immortals does pay a fair bit.
i've been employed by everyone. From the italian maffia to world governments. How do i do it?
It's quite simple really. Deprive an immortal of oxygen and he will still go unconscious.
And all you have to do then is bury them. That will take them out of the picture for at least a few hundred years.
There were a few odd cases though.
Micheal McFife. An immortal african warlord. He managed to escape twice after burial thanks to a few accomplices.
A cave and a few tons of explosives did the job though. He never knew his wife and children weren't actually in there.
Jill Alister. A former drug smuggler who was going to sell out the organisation.
After escaping burial and gravely injuring me. i took no chances. A remote bomb under her car Which detonated whilst on a bridge.
I bribed the authorities to stop the investigations. She will be under for quite a while.
And last but not least. Toby Wong. An ex marine who was gonna shine light on a few warcrimes commited
by the american military. Obviously this couldn't happen. He was too well trained to just bury him.
i had to take a different approach. A less **friendly** approach.
His wife had died of cancer two years prior. But he did have 2 kids. They we're kidnapped and placed in an underground facility.
Placed a few leads that would lead to... well expendable personnell. Who would inform him of the location of the kids.
About a day later he arrived at the facility. He got in without trouble and after half an hour of searching he foud exactly what we wanted him to find.
His children strapped to chairs. Just at the end of the hallway. He immediatly sprinted towards them. exactly as we predicted.
Just before he could get there. Doors shut in front and behind him. the government had decided that burying him was too dangerous.
It was covered up as a sattelite launch. Poor bastard won't ever come back to earth. The kids were disposed off to complete the cover up.
As long as there are immortals in the world. i will continue to do this job. Because. At the end of the day.
If there were only 1 immortal left. He would be king of the world. And i'm going to make sure that is me. | You stare into the mirror, the water running freely. Your phone pings, It's Florence, he's got another job.
You think it's hilarious how often he calls you, after all killing Immortals is considered impossible, and it is though you have your ways. There's a tap on the mirror, you look up and smile at the mirror, a reformed immortal looking to do good. It was easy to do, split a mirror in half and squash him between them , he has chameleon abilities so he can turn see through and besides you were looking for a new one.
You glance out the window at the trashcan to see another mirror just like this one broken in a thousand pieces. You frown and leave the bathroom. You check your phone, he want the job done by 4, it's 3:25 right now so you'd better get going. You grab your jacket and head out, not before Lance (the immortal you locked in a freezer 10 years ago) got a word in.
"WHEN I GET OUTTA HERE I'LL SKIN YOU ALIVE."
You can't help but laugh at him.
"I'd like to see you try." You say cocky." Oh and make sure my cabbage's don''t get too cold."
"YOU PUT THEM IN A GOSH-DARN FREEZER WHAT DO YOU "
You open the freezer door shooting a glare colder than the freezer itself.
"You are complete and utter gutter trash, did I give you the right to respond to me?"
He shakes his head.
You gladly take that answer and run off the work, you could use a new vase. | 2019-12-26T12:15:19 | 2019-12-26T12:05:34 | 33 | 12 |
[WP] You’ve been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You think you have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. You’re up next. | The High Wizard’s Council was a shadow of what it once was. Where once reigned supreme the Elves, now sat a mixed council of children who couldn’t even believe in the truth of his existence. A Human, a Half-breed, a Dwarf and a Gnome stared down at him from on high, not one of them a year over eighty. Most of them would likely not make it to that point.
Then again, none of them would be likely to make it through the day.
“Callon the Immortal,” said the Half-breed councilwoman, her slightly pointed ears twitching, her lips pursed in between the words as she spat them out, “I never thought I’d see this day. It is my pleasure to sentence you to death. However, you may ask for the method, and it will be carried out immediately.”
Callon was a tall man, with golden blonde hair that hung far below his shoulders, with two knife-edged ears that stuck out proudly to the sides. He was no mere Half-creature like the councilwoman, but the real thing. Callon was an Elf, one of the few that still remained, “This is my sixth execution of the millenia.” He said, a smirk crawling across his face, “But, I wish you luck. Maybe this time it will stick.”
“Your arrogance has been noted, Callon.” The Gnome interjected. Grey hair, a bulbous red nose, thick glasses, and a tall, pointed, purple hat. It was as though he simply wore the costume of a real wizard, “But you have witnessed the power of this council.”
“Ah, yes. The last man wished from you to die of Old Age. So you cast a spell and he shriveled to dust before our very eyes. Impressive for a child. Before that, there was that thief who said they couldn’t die until they were worth something. Now in the back of the room you’ve a golden statue that will do nothing but gather dust. Before that, they wanted to see the stars one last time, and so they vanished off into the void where they would no doubt die in the vacuum. Your cruelty is noted, if nothing else, you gave me a good laugh.”
The human, the youngest by far, slammed his fist on the table, “Damn you! You find this funny?!”
“Hilarious."
“Calm yourself,” The Dwarf said to her fellow councilman, “We are here to carry out your punishment. You will either tell us the method, or we will choose one suitable for you.”“Hm, well that’s not very fun. I have something in mind, a way I’ve never actually died. But, knowing you won’t do it is disappointing.” Callon said, “You’re just going to pick something yourself anyway.”
“That is not how this works, Callon. So long as the method ends in your death, we will carry it out.” The Half-breed said.
“Really then? Is that a promise?”
The councilwoman opened her mouth, but stopped. She looked at the others, receiving their nods of approval, “So long as it ends in your death.”
“Goodie.” Callon said, “Then allow me to tell you a story. Many elves, those of us who still live, have trouble remembering the past. There was a time before the world was fractured, if you would believe it. A time when the races of Man were forced to share their lands, and as you can expect, this was a time of great strife. Wars were fought, power was sought, deaths were brought.”
The Human and the Gnome wore their frustration visibly, though the other two attempted to hide it with faces made of chiseled stone.
“Then, when it seemed war would be all that we knew forever, a weapon was brought. Perhaps it was manmade, perhaps it was a spell so sinister it could only have been wrought by those claiming to be of the light. That is what I remember though. I cannot remember a family during those days, or friends. I don’t remember if I even fought in the war, but I do remember how it ended. A bright light, an explosion with the power to snuff out life for decades to come. That is what I ask for you to bring here. On this spot, immediately in this very room, detonate a blast so large that-”
“Absolutely not!” The human shouted, “This has gone on long enough! He’s making a mockery of this court!”
“Indeed,” The Half-breed said, “Let us listen to these psychotic ramblings no longer.”And yet, despite their words, each council member raised their wand toward Callon. Around him, a glowing golden circle of mystical runes etched themselves into the marble floor. Further, and further out they spread from him. And he was still smiling.
“You really should be more careful making promises, I’ve had an eternity to think them through.” | I didn’t understand why I was here. I hadn’t done anything wrong, at least to my knowledge. I was just a burgeoning magic student! People here had actually killed people! My main focus of study was figuring out ways to do “evil” acts without being evil, which I guess… may have been it. Like, how to do necromancy without forcing souls into eternal servitude. Point is, I’m a good person! I like making friends with everyone I can manage. I don’t want to hurt people; that’s why I’m doing this.
So yeah. I guess I’m in this magical court, sentenced for death. There was one thing I had on my side, though. Time. A little bit of it, anyway. The magical court liked making spectacles of people who thought they’d cheated the system. The last prisoner thought he was being smart by saying he wanted to die “of old age.” Poor guy barely had time to blink before he turned into dust. That was… horrific.
So I just had to think. How was I supposed to get out of here? I was supposed to die, and I have to get around that. From what I’ve heard of people who have been here for a really long time, the court’s had ages at doing this whole mess. Kind of like the… whatsit. Monkey’s Paw? It’s a known phenomenon where genies will twist wishes to grant the exact letter of the wish, but the absolute opposite of the spirit.
What could I ask for so that I wouldn’t just… die? I didn’t want to die! I wasn’t ready to die!
…
Why were they even doing this? I was so careful to stay moral and ethical in my work…
Actually, I knew they wouldn’t answer that. I’d asked before, right after the guy died of old age. Didn’t get anything except some chuckles and some vague “you know what you did”s. But I didn’t! How could humans be this cruel!
Wait.
Humans.
A thought popped into my mind. It was a desperate ploy, almost certainly wouldn’t work… but it couldn’t be twisted. Not without risking offending something that I knew no wizard would willingly go against. And I knew they would take my willingness as one of the greatest possible complements, and they wouldn’t refuse my offer.
I just had to figure out the wording. Figure out the exact lines I was going to say, so the wizards can’t twist it in order to keep me here. Humans I couldn’t be trusted, as I’d learned. But I knew there were other people that held to their rules. Arcane rules, sure, but I knew they’d be fair.
The next day, I stepped forward in front of the tribunal. I was really glad I had gloves on, because there’s almost nothing worse than sweaty hands in my experience. The head wizard, head of the court, looked down on me with a superior expression.
“So, Sam, you have heard the crimes put against you.” I shook my head slightly, and the head wizard shook his head pityingly. “No matter. The sentence decreed has been death, but it shall be in the way you choose.” He waved his hand out grandiosely. “So, choose. How shall we deliver you to the next life?”
“With all due respect, sir,” I said with a confidence I hadn’t had a minute ago, “I would like to appeal to a higher court.” The courtroom was silent for a minute before just about everyone burst out laughing. I just stood there awkwardly until one of the other court members reigned in his laughter for long enough to ask.
“There is no higher court than us! Have you lost your mind?!”
“There is no higher human court, true. But I did not appeal to humans. I appeal to be brought to the High Court of the Fairies.” | 2022-11-19T02:25:30 | 2022-11-19T00:52:06 | 589 | 71 |
[WP] A wizard accidentally becomes immortal. He has the idea to become the antagonist so that a hero will come along and defeat him, so he can rest in peace. Sadly, the heroes are weak in comparison so the wizard creates a persona as a 'wise teacher' to train these heroes in order to defeat him. | In a lonely corner tower room of a lonely castle, an old man sat in a decrepit throne. A fire blazed in the fireplace before him. A wooden door behind him creaked open, and in stepped a dwarf sized goblin.
"Master Locke, the next Thomas brother has reached the infernal steps."
The old wizard nodded, illuminated by a crackling fireplace. The goblin servant looked thoughtful, and added: "Perhaps you should consider letting that girl from the other day try to kill you. She seemed robust, Master."
The old man grabbed a staff resting against his throne, and used it to prop himself up. "Women are too vindictive, old friend of mine tangled with one, and the girl locked him in a coffin until he starved. A young boy is happy to just chop your head off." Then he snapped his fingers and disappeared.
---
Just before Peter could knock on the wooden doors of the Castle, the doors swung open, by magic. Peter quickly fell to his knees, but said sternly, "I am Peter Thomas, brother of Adrian, slew by your own brother War-"
"Get used to me interrupting, but I've heard this before. Brothers tend to speak alike." Boomed an inhumanly loud voice.
Peter could barely make out what seemed to be a cloaked figure standing with the darkness in the distance.
"I need to avenge my brother." Peter said.
"And is he your only brother? You have younger ones yet, where are they?"
"They are younger, and must wait-.
"Their turn?" interjected the cloaked wizard, allowing a shiny smile to appear in the shadow of his hood. "But you heroes, you seek to close yourselves off from the rest. Instead of trying to be like the people you wish to save, you wish to become like the people you wish to destroy. So you come to me to learn how to stop my brother."
The boy was silent, kept his head bowed, while he kneeled. The cloaked man appeared annoyed at this, and stalked forward, and lifted him up to standing by his scruff. "At least your brother didn't kneel before shadows!"
I need but my whip, and-
"A whip?" The old man cackled. "A sidekick's weapon. If you want to be the hero, sword seems to be the universal choice. But no matter, I'll take you in."
---
The wizard sighed, and willed his pawn forward.
"Do you know why you lost?"
"Why?"
"Because you chose to play the game. That is not your objective."
'What is?"
Like a flash, the old wizard delivered a rap to the student's skull, sending him reeling in pain.
"The objective is to beat me. And you move pieces in patterns anyone can predict. When you enter my brother's fortress, will you walk into his traps because "those are the rules?"
| I'm 320 years and I've killed 45 heroes so far. That's a lot and not enough depending on how you look at it. At first, they came to me, hoping for riches and fame. None succeeded. None went back home. I mean, you can't really continue to have a reputation if you send them back, you understand.
But, in the last 200 years the people interested in slaying the wizard were worryingly low, most seemed to believe I was a myth. Didn't they read the books I've planted all over the libraries?! It made me mad, and sometimes I threw some really dark magic on them..but they weren't impressed. People are really hard to impress now. So, I've started to go out as an old man, saying non sense that seems wise and attract young men [ and two women ] willing to risk their life trying to kill the famed wizard. What a lousy retarded plan you say? HA! trying being immortal for a while and you'll see that the only reason to be alive is so you can find your death.
It didn't work. They all failed!
About 50 years ago I've realized that teaching one hero at a time to face the greatest of devils it's just too slow and tedious. Finding and selecting a good match for a hero and then being disappointed...so many disappointments and just as many murders. It's really useless. So what I needed was a way to teach more hero in the same time, as many as possible from all over the world and send them all to kill the old evil wizard - again, me. It took me a great time but now I can do it.
You can find me at killawizard.com. I teach seminars all over the world for an affordable price. The introductory session is free and if you sign up to my newsletter you receive for free "The 10 biggest mistake you can make when trying to kill an ancient immortal being".
I'm sure I'll die soon. You just wait for the YouTube video. | 2015-07-25T06:29:26 | 2015-07-25T06:13:58 | 28 | 17 |
[WP] You are constantly mocked for having such a weird superpower by all the other heroes. “The power to make anything into perfectly cooked soup”… One day, a massive meteor is barreling towards earth. As all the other heroes are panicking, you wait perfectly calm, at the impact zone, bowl in hand. | I wanted to be cool. I wanted to be part of the in super crowd. I applied to the super league of super heroes. S.L.O.S.H laughed at me when I demonstrated my power. I turned a glass of water into soup. I placed the glass of water inside my bowl, used my power, and presented them with the perfect bowl of potato and leek soup. They laughed.
"Water into soup, I'm soo impressed. Hahahaha. Yeah we have a spot for you... in the cafeteria. Hahaha. Get lost mighty Lunch Lady"
It's like none of them had noticed the glass changed to soup too. I only chose the glass of water because it was the first thing I saw. Maybe it would have been more impressive if I had used the table they sat behind, or one of their chairs.
I gave up on my dreams to a golden member of S.L.O.S.H., but I took their advice to become a lunch lady. Not in their sacred halls, but somewhere I was needed and appreciated. I started up stone soup.
Most assumed the name was in reference to the old children's story; A community coming together to feed everyone. I didn't dispute it. It allowed the charity to raise money for more than just soup. Only I knew that whatever soup I made, in limitess amounts, was actually *stone* soup. I'd thought about using trash, but I couldn't in good conscience use actual rubbish and waste products to make food.
I was never going to be a superhero in the grand sense, but I was a hero to hundreds each day. That should have been enough.
One day I watched the news. For once they weren't talking about S.L.O.S.H members stopping bank robberies, or a bus load of kids saved from crashing into the river. Today it was a meteorite headed to Earth. No one could stop it, not even Meteorman which was ironic.
"What's on the menu today Rosemary?" Asked my assistant as they wandered in. Clearly they hadn't seen the news.
"The biggest batch of stone soup ever. I'm thinking something cool and refreshing, Gazpacho or chilled cucumber perhaps. I just have to go out and get the ingredients."
I grabbed my largest pot and my testing bowl, before I turned back and said
"It's going to taste out of this world" | I had always been an outcast, even among the other superheros. Everyone else had flashy abilities like flight or super strength, while my power was to make anything into perfectly cooked soup. I was constantly mocked and ridiculed.
I heard the news that a massive meteor was headed straight for Earth. The other heroes were in a frenzy, trying to come up with a plan to save the day. I, on the other hand, felt strangely calm. I knew that my power was the only one that could stop the meteor. So I headed off to the impact zone, bowl in hand.
When I arrived, I saw that the meteor was only minutes away from hitting the ground. I concentrated and willed the meteor to turn into soup. Suddenly, the meteor began to shimmer and distort, and before long, it had transformed into a steaming bowl of soup.
The other heroes were in shock. They had never seen anyone do something like that before. I had finally been able to prove myself and show them that my power was something to be respected.
But then, I noticed something strange. The soup had an odd taste and a faint, putrid smell. I took a closer look and saw that there were strange, unrecognizable objects floating in the soup.
It was only then that I realized that I had made a terrible mistake. The objects in the soup were pieces of the meteor, and the meteor had been made up of toxic material. I had unknowingly created a deadly soup that would have catastrophic consequences for the world. | 2022-11-29T22:55:40 | 2022-11-29T19:52:13 | 187 | 59 |
[WP] A superhero tries to get himself classified as a natural disaster so people can get refunded by their insurance company when he destroys their home during a fight. | Dale shuffled through the papers and sighed. Captain Thunder's massive frame was stuffed into one of the chairs across from the desk. Every time the big hero shifted, the wooden furniture would squeak in protest and threaten to collapse. The brawny hero was built of at least three hundred pounds of pure muscle, and Dale's office manager always bought the cheapest balsa-wood-quality furniture. It was only a matter of time.
"Mr. Thunder..."
"*Captain*," he interrupted with a flashy grin.
"Yes. Sorry again. *Captain* Thunder... I can't process these." Dale pushed the folder across the desk.
"*Why*? All the paperwork is there!"
Dale picked out one of the forms at random. "Let's have a look at this one, shall we? A theater owner claimed that his building was destroyed by a tornado? How often does that happen in California on a cloudless day? I checked the weather reports."
Captain Thunder glared. "But look, there are all of these supporting statements from bystanders!" He tapped one sausage-sized finger on top of another folder containing hundreds of affidavits, all witnessed by none other than Captain Thunder, Notary Public. "They all saw the tornado too."
"Well, I have a statement from this 'Lord Magma,' who claims that he was there that day." Captain Thunder's face turned into a smug yeah-I-definitely-beat-that-guy-up type grin. "I visited him in the prison hospital to ask about this supposed tornado. He claims that you threw him through so many of the theater's walls that the entire building came down on top of him, resulting in many many injuries."
Captain Thunder suppressed a laugh. "Well I guess there is karma in the world after all. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy."
"And," Dale continued, "Every one of these other claims also seems to revolve around mysteriously-appearing tornadoes that *also* coincidentally seem to land on top of people that you dislike."
"You mean villains," Captain Thunder growled.
"Mr Thunder, I'm not...
"*Captain*," he broke in again.
"Yes, well, *Captain*. I'm afraid that I'm not here to judge right and wrong; just to decide whether damages are covered by our policies. And as you know, we've already determined that your vigilante actions do not constitute lawful enforcement, and thus your damages are not covered. No matter *how* destructive you or your rivals are." Dale held up one manila envelope. "I mean, here's a whole football stadium that was razed to the ground! Do you know how much that costs?"
Captain Thunder didn't answer. He was just staring out the window. Des Moines isn't necessarily the most scenic town, so Dale wasn't sure exactly what was so captivating. "Captain Thunder? I'm sorry, sir, but we're not going to be able to process these. As much as we all appreciate your services to the nation..."
Captain Thunder didn't even seem to notice that Dale was speaking. Just staring at blue sky and fluffy white clouds with a sort of bemused grin.
"Well..." Dale was starting to get uncomfortable with the silence. "I'll just file my conclusions then. Now if there's anything else I can help you with..."
"Sorry," Captain Thunder finally answered. He stood from his chair, so tall that his perfectly combed hair nearly scraped the ceiling. His massive frame even blocked the light from the overhead lamp. He leaned over Dale's desk and planted two ham-sized fists right on top of the paperwork like a hulking silverback gorilla. "I just thought the weather looked a little stormy out. You know..." He grimaced and leaned in even further, an inch away from Dale's face. "*Tornado weather*."
There was a brief moment of silence with Captain Thunder just *daring* Dale to break eye contact.
"I'll just go ahead and approve these..." Dale whispered, hurriedly reaching for his stamp.
----
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| Arthur McMillan sat behind his desk with his hands clasped under his chin. "I'm not sure I understand where you're coming from, Mister..."
"Oh, you can call me Man," Shredder Man placed his magic skateboard against McMillan's desk. McMillan gave a slight, hesitating nod before he continued.
"Alright, Man. So can you explain this situation to me again?"
"Right, sure. So I'm Shredder Man, right? I've been protecting Miami since...well. I don't know. Last 4-20 at least. Bl*aaaaaaa*ze it," he raised his hand for McMillan to slap, but Arthur McMillan did no such thing. Shredder Man brought down his hand in a weak attempt to cough before continuing.
"Cool, so at least since last 4-20. And I mean 2015, broski. I've protected Miami from the Killer Wasp, and that crazy chick who ate faces, and all the Florida Men that you could believe."
"Are you...are you high right now?" Arthur McMillan asked. Shredder Man waved him off.
"Aw come on man. I'd never come to a business meeting blazed. Just hear me out. So sometimes in the midst of my *awesome* shredding I get...well I get carried away. You know those sonic booms I can send out of my wheels? Kind of destroyed a multiplex the other day. And also a hotel. Oh, and caused like, a *killer* tsunami."
"Right," Arthur McMillan's hand snuck under his desk, tapping near the red button to the left of his knee in preparation.
"But, like. I'm not made of cash, you know? I work at a Deli down near the pier on Friday nights and stuff but...man, how am I going to pay for a multiplex with that? I don't make any money from my superhero gig. And now the city is threatening to sue me if I don't either stop destroying things or pay for the damage. So I was thinking, what if we could make my awesome shreds like...classify them as a natural disaster. I mean I did cause that tsunami."
"But you aren't a natural disaster. You're a man with a skateboard," Arthur McMillan's fingers drew ever closer to the button.
"You aren't *hearing* me, bro. I'm the hero that Miami *needs*. Who else is going to stop all those face eating crazies?"
McMillan's fingers pressed against the button as he flashed Shredder Man a smile. "Well, *Man*, this has been enlightening. But I'm afraid we can't help you here. You'd have to go to an insurance company to file that claim. Or perhaps city hall--"
"Nah, City Hall would make me an Act of God, dude."
"--but this is a *bank*, sir. We manage money. Do you have money you would like us to manage?"
---
Na na na na na na na na Florida Man!
For other stories, check out /r/Celsius232 | 2016-05-03T05:07:48 | 2016-05-03T00:41:46 | 1,533 | 166 |
[WP]Four years ago, your dog and best friend disappeared. Today, your dog appears at your doorstep. You dog says, "I have been many places and seen many things, human. Its time we had a chat."
"you" dog heh | "Hello, Owner."
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. There, standing on my doorstep staring at me with those wide, familiar eyes, was my dog, Buddy. I hadn't seen him for the last four years! I had so many questions; where had he been? What had he been doing? And where was that fucker Brad who had up and disappeared while taking him for a walk? All these long years I had waited, hoping desperately for my beloved friend to return. And here he finally was. I opened my mouth shakily to respond to him.
"B-Buddy? Is that you, boy?"
The dog gave a short, sharp nod.
"It is I. I have returned to you. There is much we have to discuss."
Suddenly a strange thought crossed my mind. I hadn't noticed it in the shock of seeing my dog returned to me after so long. I opened my mouth once more to ask him one single, vital, question.
"Wait...you can talk?"
Buddy nodded again.
I let out a short laugh of disbelief. And then, without taking my eyes off of him, I reached over to the wall, grabbed my shotgun, and shot the dog in the face. His brains exploded onto the porch; body slumping limply onto the welcome mat. Lowering my gun, I straightened my back and placed the gun back on its holder on the wall. Slamming the front door shut, I crossed myself quickly, before shaking my head as though to clear it from the madness of that encounter. I turned and walked back towards the lounge room to resume my Bible Study, muttering all the way.
"Won't have no devil dog in my house; try again you horned fuck!" | I was still finding it hard to comprehend.
One day I'd been a perfectly happy normal(ish) human going about my day to day business. I barely even thought about my dog, Flyer who'd run away four years ago, but that had all changed suddenly when he'd turned up on my doorstep, and HE COULD FUCKING TALK!
Oh yeah, he could fly, cast magic spells, was effectively immortal and had the FUNNIEST one-liners I'd ever heard, human OR animal.
But the best part, the part that got my eyes wide open and my 100% complete and full attention, was now that Flyer the Demigod (Demidog?) could tell me the ultimate secret.
The one question that I'd wondered pretty much all my life.
Why ARE dogs so happy when eating their own shit?
| 2017-03-31T15:14:43 | 2017-03-31T10:06:49 | 249 | 10 |
[WP] You chose to be a villain to give 'heroes' something to do. You find it quite fun and fully embrace your role! You send out your underlings to be 'quest givers' to extend a hero's journey. Once a hero has faced you, you offer them a chance to join, explaining what you do and why. Everyone wins! | "Leslieeeee!!!!!!!! I'm *booooooooooooooooooooored*!" The witch whirled into the kitchen, disturbing the nice pile of clean folded laundry on the chair and threatening to topple a glass vase that looked suspiciously like a stolen artifact. Leslie, the woman already in the kitchen, appeared to washing dishes. She also appeared a little frustrated with the glowing orbs and strange noises that the witch brought with her.
"Suck it up! I'm busy! Besides, weren't you supposed to have another 'boss fight' appointment in a minute?"
Rolling her eyes, the witch seemed a little more chaotic than scheduled. Not the calm mastermind we'd expected to see. "Yeah, but they're taking, like, forever in the Labyrinth of Deception."
Leslie released an exasperated sigh. "Tough cookies, sweetheart. Just go, like, write another tragic backstory for some lowly quest-giver or something. Or talk to Devin, see what new cosplay you can come up with."
The indignation in the witch's face was almost endearing--lips drawing together, eyebrows pinched, the witch looked more like a small child throwing a fit than a scheming force of nature. "It is not cosplay, it is my uniform. This is my job. It just happens to be a very fantastic one with very cool outfits."
"Whatever. Just let me do the dishes in peace, alright? I do not need you throwing magic orbs at my face while I'm trying to clean *your* Poisoned Chalice^(TM). The witch pulled a face, then grinned and whisked away, stealing a candy from a dish before leaving the room.
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The vision, once finished, left the heroes very confused.
"What. Was that? Did I just see our rival, the mysterious witch of the vanished, complaining about us taking too long? In her maze?" Maisy tossed the crystal ball aside, useless for another three days, and they didn't plan to be in here that long.
George smirked. "Nah, mate. She was in her kitchen."
"Hah hah, George. Very funny." Maisy started to get up, pacing so she wouldn't have to continue holding still.
"What I want to know is why her girlfriend put air quotes on 'boss fight' like that."
"I don't--"
GREETINGS. YOU ARE RECEIVING THIS MESSAGE FOR: UNSOLICITED DISCOVERY ERROR. PLEASE TAKE THE TRAPDOOR ON YOUR LEFT TO MEET WITH WITCH VANESSA AND THE DEVELOPER TEAM TO DISCUSS WHAT YOU SAW AND YOUR CURRENT OPTIONS. THIS MESSAGE WAS DELIVERED AUTOMATICALLY; DO NOT REPLY.
The two heroes looked at each other. They took the trapdoor. | Someone had to do it. It was that simple. There were certainly heroes, but it seemed like those who had supernatural power only ever became heroes. Crime went down by a lot and well, heroes and cops alike were starting to lose their jobs. Who better for the role of villian than myself? All I had to do was recruit some people to join in and we had ourselves a classic heroes versus villians society. Sure, all the villians wouldn't actually hurt anyone. But all the same. It was fun. I would get heroes sent my way in an attempt to defeat 'the final boss'.
"I found you," I heard someone speak. 'Found' was a bit of an exaggeration but they didn't know that yet.
"Congratulations... wanna join?"
I could tell they were confused and annoyed at the suggestion
"Now, now, hear me out... have you ever seen a villian kill someone? Or really hurt a person at all?"
"...what are you saying?"
"All I'm saying is... there were people out there trying to do good... but they did it too well. People began losing their jobs and well... I'm not exactly a hero but... I suppose you could say I do the wrong things for the right reasons."
I watched as they seemed to consider it. I shrugged
"It's sorta like... in order for people to work at most jobs, they need customers... even if they are a little rude," I attempted to explain.
"So... you want to employ me to pretend to be bad so that way good people can continue to have jobs? And this... would mean I don't hurt anyone I just... cause a bit of a disturbance sometimes?"
I chuckled, "Exactly! What say you?"
"I need more time but... I do believe you,"
I grinned happily
"Perfect." | 2022-09-07T10:00:46 | 2022-09-07T09:33:46 | 48 | 24 |
[WP] God shares the cosmos with several other dieties. To pass the time they play Civilization like games for eons. God's frustrated that his civilization, Earth, is several ages behind all his friends. | Dexicon moved his cosmic fortress from Centauri B straight into Earth's orbit. Dexicon was able to do this in one turn thanks to the cosmic paving it had laid earlier. This allowed faster than light travel.
"Your move, God." Dexicon roared, knowing it had the ancient deity in its proverbial palm.
*Shit shit shit* thought God. It was tough to display no emotion but a strong poker face was crucial. Dexicon had already taken Zeermon out the game and had now moved on to God.
God had not been blessed with much luck. Each deity had been given a species that had space travel potential. The objective was to either enslave or obliterate the other species. God had unfortunately randomised the least intelligent possible species - homo.
2.7 million years just to leave the hunter gatherer stage. This was a new record. He had had to wipe out his first few species of homo and start over - they had simply been too stupid. By the time he had rerandomised into homo-sapien he was at least 2.6 million years behind Dexicon.
What didnt help was that the homo-sapiens turned out to be incredibly aggresive. This would be useful for fighting other species, but they mainly killed each other! Oh how Dexicon and Zeermon laughed!
When he had finally researched the abilty to send a vassel to Earth to enlighten and guide the people, the earthlings did something unprecedented in stupidity - they decided to kill it.
Finally the humans became space able. At the time, God was pleased. They visited their local moon first, as expected. But the moon base never came. The colonisation of nearby planets never came. They regressed.
"Using your cosmic paving I move Earth into alpha Centuri B", said God, in a move that would have made the humans proud.
Dexicon's mouth dropped.
"Rematch?" God asked.
--------
If you liked this you can read more on my sub I just set up (come follow me!): /r/nickofnight
| How was he so behind in score? Jahweh sat gaping with disbelief at the icons floating in the top left of his screen, indicating that his rival, Jorgaxis, had just reached the highest tech level.
"Shouldn't have picked DNA as your genetic molecule, noob" the chat-window taunted. Jorgaxis was right, the higher rate of mutation gave him an edge in the early game, but that had been squandered after his setback with the dinosaurs. Now all it meant was that these damn humans were scared of nuclear power, and those dead dinosaurs were providing an easier, if less efficient means of power. If they didn't get their act together soon, cold-fusion was never going to be researched!
To make matters worse his faith points were dwindling; a few turns ago he overclicked the "new messiah" button and now had too many competing religions on his planet. Lack of a world religion was ruining his faith economy, preventing advancement. You'd think that after spending so many resources to flood the entire world that the one family of followers left alive would agree to worship him, but no. The game was not going well.
Sighing, he clicked to place a few images of himself on some toast, maybe that little push would be enough?
| 2022-09-11T19:19:52 | 2016-04-09T08:11:27 | 1,980 | 30 |
[WP] You bring home a girl. She wants to see the "1" you talked about that shines on your floor. Only now it says "2." It stays like this for years together until one day, it says "4." She says, "Hon, I have some good news. But you should sit down."
Inspired by this post
https://www.reddit.com/r/mildlyinteresting/comments/ilfsl7/_/ | The shining number on the floor had indeed changed to a 4 and she was indeed pregnant with my twins. The problem was I never wanted children and she knew it. However she didn’t know why. She didn’t ask why? Just like she didn’t ask why the shimmering Number on the floor changed. She just accepted it.
Her eyes as she broke the news to me were hopeful and a little wary as if this could change anything between us. My heart melted at the sight of her face, and it damn well shouldn’t have but it did. Love was a blessing to me after a long time without any emotions. I would die before I let anything change that.
For the next few months as her pregnancy progressed, I steadily came to terms with the fact that I was now going to be responsible for two more lives. The babies kicked in her belly as I moved my hand over them cautiously feeling for signs of any deviance but all was well.
The babies growing inside her were healthy and normal although I had growing concerns that seemed to feel like paranoia now. The rituals did not foretell any ill signs no matter how I threw the bones. But the bones often lied. All was well it seemed. Her belly started to grown round and a bit too bloated and big but the doctors said this was normal with twins. She wanted their gender to be a surprise for us so we asked the doctor to keep it that way. In truth I didn’t want to know their gender for fear of what would be coming. And for fear that I would be too attached to do what I must.
In secret I prepared my weapons as I waited out the nine months and prayed I would not have to use them. They had grown rusty with disuse and my skills along with them. In these months with endless repetition, sweat and toil they took on a shine again and gleamed as if in anticipation. My body was ready to kill again, every muscle, sinew and bone prepared to do my dread bidding.
She thought i was just spending more time in the tool shed than I should. How could I tell her of what I must do? She was lost in her world of morning sickness, cravings and then anticipation of her motherhood to come. Her smile was a beacon in the darkness for me as always. I wished we could stay this way for all time.
Finally the dreaded day was upon us. Her water broke early in the morning and as we rushed to get to the car with our little emergency bag, I noticed that the 4 was now shimmering. I prayed that it was not what I had dreaded. As we drove away to the hospital to welcome my children to this world, I sensed that the 4 was now a shining ∞
Everyone else would now have to die. My children would live no matter what. | I opened my door, walked in tiredly, and so did the girl, but with a happier and more eager look.
'So this is where you live! Look so much better than my imagination!'
If you had three hundred years lonely in a forest, at least your house should be decent, I thought to myself.
'Oh, is this the number you were talking about!' She exclaimed, looking at the floor, 'but it says 2 though? I thought you said it was 1'
'Hmm, no idea.' I looked briefly at the floor. Just a weird spell that came along with the wood I took from that gnome bastard. If not for the excellent fire resistant quality I would have thrown it away.
The girl was quickly distracted by a giant crystal I got from the icy volcanoes some 50 years ago. I couldn't care less, so I went for a nap.
Some time had passed. Probably 10 years, because the girl looked mature now. By human age, she was maybe around half way through. After some brief thinking, I flew to the South. Those mermaids had some great beauty tips.
'Hon, I have some good news. But you should sit down.'
The girl, or I should say the woman, greeted me with a happy look on her face when I came back. I slowly walked in, and noticed that the number on the floor had turned 4.
Had it always been 4? My thought wandered a bit. What was the number for again?
A sharp pain woke me up from my thought. The woman was still smiling in front of me, similar to the day when she first came. I glanced down, and see the number quickly blew up.
'A thousand, oh my.' I pulled the sword out of my back, and crushed the heads of two peasant humans that dared to attack me. The woman face slowly distorted, an ugly scream came out of her mouth.
It was a lovely dinner.
Too bad you couldn't enjoy it with me. | 2020-09-03T03:22:37 | 2020-09-03T02:34:46 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] A sorcerer enslaves a dragon using magic, and, of course, keeps his new minion in good condition. Years later, the sorcerer realizes the magic wore off long ago, but the dragon's still around. | As I lay in my chambers decaying endlessly into the night I finally noticed it. The rose in the corner of my room was dead. I hadn’t looked at it in years. Decades even. When Sarah had worn it in her hair all that time ago I had kept it and enchanted it to stay that perfect forever. Sentimental fool. I should have expected it to die the moment she left me for Arthur. But it hadn’t. I remembered wistfully looking at it in the days when I still missed her. When did I stop missing her? And when did it die?
An uneasy feeling started to creep up inside me. I scrambled out of bed towards the dresser where I kept a photo of another part of my life that I hadn’t looked at in years. Twelve years to be exact – the time since the accident which caused me to lose my powers.
I’d had Gerald about 6 years or so by then. I’d found him whilst exploring one of the magic caves of Edad and enchanted him to be loyal and subservient to me. I figured a dragon could come in very handy at times and it didn’t escape my attention that he would also make a very cool pet. Among the many things I had him do for me I also made him take us to Contair. I needed some of their magical stones and knew I’d need some literal fire power to get them.
Idiot that I was, I got too greedy and didn’t leave quick enough when we got into trouble. I managed to get myself caught in one of Gerald’s fires and lost the use of my hands. My hands were everything, I cast all my magic from them and without them I wasn’t a sorcerer. I was nothing. I commanded Gerald to take me back to my lair and I’ve wallowed with him here ever since. He goes and gets me supplies when I instruct him to and helps keep everything in order around the house. For a long time I had been counting my lucky stars that I thought to enslave him when I did.
That was until I found the photo in the dresser that I was looking for. It was one my Aunt May had taken not long after the accident. It showed me and Gerald sitting in this room with my freshly burnt hands and behind us in the background the rose – just starting to wilt.
I should have known losing my powers would have had a back log effect on my previous incantations. There’s so few that I didn’t ever ‘top up’ that I just never thought about it before. Lots of tiny little things began to fall into place as I realised for the first time the full scope of what had happened when I burnt my hands. But Gerald.
I moved slowly towards the peacefully sleeping dragon at the end of my bed and felt for the first time that I was truly seeing him. He wasn’t here out of magical necessity but by choice. He was helping me by choice. I wrapped my feeble arms around his scaly neck as best I could and nuzzled up close to him. He sighed a gentle gust of contentment as I did so. What remarkable things dragons are – we humans really don’t deserve them. No wonder I stopped missing Sarah.
| Urk the all knowing awoke from his four year long slumber due to a dream with too much flowing water. It did not matter how many incantations or spells he cast upon himself once you have to go you have to go. His robes floated over his body as he shambled over to his portal. He put in the coordinates for what should be the closest sleeping king and let loose. He always hated the nobility ever since he was kicked out of his home town for setting a few houses on fire.
"Iff Tal Mar Oc Ref" he chanted to create a mirror image of himself.
Urk's face had never been what people would call pretty but four years of now moving did not help. He promptly splashed water on his face to wash off whatever had collected on it and gave himself a good inspection. His face was similar to an old piece of leather which had spent its life in a vat of bleach. His hair was long, grey and it covered every inch of his body. The only part of him that held any youth were the eyes that he had won through a bet with some sort of demon. He waved his hand through the illusion to dispel it. He need to get some food.
As he was leaving his room he noticed there was something shining on the ground. "By the mighty beard of eff, how long has this crystal been laying here" he screamed to nobody in particular. He had no time to even feel the panic as he flew down his tower. Each crystal in his tower was a conduit containing magic power which controlled different objects. That particular one controlled the dragon that he used to keep his treasures safe. Natural job for a dragon.
As Urk hit the bottom of the stairs he was surprised to see that everything was still intact. "Maybe it just flew off" he muttered as a silent prayer to the gods which he cast off over three centuries ago. As he opened the doors to his horde he saw the dragon laying atop it scratching its belly.
As Urk's eyes met with the dragon's he heard in his head "Ah little one are you here to give me my next meal, or shall we go and terrorise a nearby village."
"village I guess" responded Urk in bewilderment.
| 2017-08-03T04:07:28 | 2017-08-02T22:17:21 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | Ever remember that scene from "The Sixth Sense", where the little kid says "I see dead people?". That was pretty much exactly how I first tried to tell people about my power. I was only six, and my parents laughed it off. My father is going to die in a car accident. My mother, a heart attack.
You see, I can see how people die. Their cause of death is shown in a little text box over their head. It normally shows something like my parents, an accident, or just old age. I tried to help people as I got older, trying to give people as much time as possible. I told cancers to get a check-up arranged. Car accidents to drive safely. Every goddamn one of them laughed it off. Said I was crazy. Well, Charlene died from a car accident a few weeks later. John has terminal cancer. Every single one of them died. I stopped trying soon after Sarah died from a drug overdose.
At first, there was no time. I couldn't tell when these deaths were going to happen, just how they were. Then, I noticed people's words becoming more opague. The closer they were, the more solid the words became. As I grew older, I noticed that they were cracking, shot through with veins of color. I started guessing how long they had, choosing the urgent cases, the brick-like car accidents and the tombstone murders. I couldn't interfere, just tell them to be careful. I examined them, carefully noting the color change. I soon had a system.
Blues, the long term people. Two decades or more, I'd guess. Greens, a decade. Yellows had a year, two tops. Reds, the next few months. Purples, a week. Blacks, a day or two.
I was sitting on a bus when I saw him. A boy, the same age as me, leaning his head against the window, looking out at the world passing by. Among all the other passengers, he was the only purple one, the rest a mess of greens and blues. There was a few yellows too.
Everyone else had the usual. Car accidents, cancer, one tiger, that was going to be rough. Nothing too bad. He had the word "suicide", surrounded by deep purple.
He lifted his head off the window, and glanced down at his hands. He seemed to have made a decision.
I watched as the colors shifted from purple to black.
I had promised myself not to interfere again.
I smashed that promise into smithereens as I got up and sat beside him.
"Hey, can I talk to you? My name's Nick... are you okay?"
He glanced up at me, and then back at his hands. I saw a hint of a smile...
Just on the edge of my vision, because I was too busy staring at the text box. It now read "old age", in the palest, most beautiful and perfect tracery of blue you can imagine.
**Thank you all so much for all the lovely comments. I had no idea how much of a reaction this reply would get. Thank you, thank you, thank you! <3** | He worked alone, he always had. Not because he wanted to, but people just had a tendency to not notice him. It was depressing really. Every person he ever met instantly forgot him, or tried to ignore him, it was hard to tell sometimes. As for his work, well, he worked in travel, a mostly administrative position.
As far back as he could remember, and he could remember a lot, he'd been able to see the cause of death of every person he'd ever met, floating above their heads with a little countdown timer right next to it. It had never fazed him. At first he'd just been there, at the end, to see it happen. But as the years drew on he'd become more interested in what you might call the more important deaths; politicians, movie stars, media types generally. He'd always show up, usually at their funeral, and mingle with the crowd, comforting them and just being a part of it. He'd always found a certain pleasure in this, like he was helping in some way, letting people know that death was just the next step in a person's life. The last great journey.
He did notice a worrying trend though. While he was attending the funeral of a renowned author, the timer for a newborn child was showing that his cause of death was to be by meteor strike, with a date some 70 years from now. As more children were born they too had this very same timer, and some that were to die by radiation poisoning, nuclear explosions, freezing to death and starving in the few years after the event. Again this didn't faze him.
He closed the door to his office and got to work with the planning and admin role to which he was very accustomed by now, he'd been doing it long enough. The buzzer on his desk lit up and the words of his P.A. came tinnily through as he looked up to the corridor, seeing a large, hulking figure though the glass.
"Azrael, I have a Mr Waugh here to see you."
***
I took some liberties, in that I actually wanted to use the idea of a timer in this story. Sorry. CC welcome as this is my first ever submission. Be gentle haha! | 2015-03-31T11:10:46 | 2015-03-31T09:57:05 | 241 | 10 |
[WP] You've just defeated the dark lord, as you were prophesized to. But as you walk back into camp, everyone looks at you, shocked. "There was no prophecy," they explain. "We just told you that to give you confidence. How on earth did you kill an unkillable sorcerer?" | Anders felt a sickening lurch deep in his stomach as he watched his guild's oldest, most powerful magic sword being presented to a fifteen year old boy. The glittering blue blade nearly scratched the ground when the boy held it at his side, and to Anders' eyes, his hands seemed to barely wrap around the hilt. Though the boy put on an eager, reassuring smile, Anders could see that his legs trembled ever so slightly as he heard of his quest to slay the sorcerer-king of Faelthra.
So, when the rest of the adventurer's guild was preparing supplies for their young protege's departure, or feasting to celebrate, Anders looked for Kai in the quiet halls around the building. Anders found him, hidden in a side hallway by a closet, bent over his sword and shaking uncontrollably. As soon as he heard Anders approach, he straightened up and forced a smile.
Anders ignored the display of false confidence, walked over, and patted Kai on the shoulder. He said in a soft voice, "Don't worry. It's okay to be scared."
At the reassuring touch of his former instructor, Kai's shoulders slumped and the smile slipped off his face. "I know, but everyone has such high hopes and they tell me it'll be fine. But I can't stop thinking about the people who went before me and never came back. Why does it have to be me, not a teacher or a master swordsman?"
"Well, it's because you're quicker and more agile, so you'll be able to dodge--"
"I know all that, but I'm new to this and I don't have the experience and I'm just a kid... why me?"
Anders looked at Kai, and though he knew that this was objectively the guild's best chance to stop the coming storm, all he saw was a scared child with watery eyes, barely holding back tears. In that moment, Anders made a choice that took him many sleepless nights to decide was correct. He knelt down, looking Kai directly in the eyes.
"Well... I'm not supposed to tell you this, but there's a prophesy."
"A prophesy?" Kai looked confused, but his eyes dried up.
"Yes, a prophesy. The others don't want to tell you because they think it will make you overconfident. It says that a young hero will emerge from the shadows, take up the Blade of Ages, and slay the dark sorcerer king."
"Really?" Kai straightened up, and his eyes shone bright.
"Not only that, but it says this hero will have short black hair and, ummm... a three letter name. From the moment you showed remarkable aptitude in training, we all knew who this referred to."
Kai stared off into the distance, a finally genuine smile creeping onto his face. "A prophesy... me... really, huh?" He began to walk away down the hall, lost in thought and swinging his sword in beautiful, flowing practice strikes. Anders watched him go, and hoped that his lie would give Kai a little bit of comfort at the end.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
The dark sorcerer king Mavos sat upon his twisted iron throne, the shadowy room only illuminated by the floating flames that flickered and writhed like tortured souls. Mavos was not physically large, but his dark cloak billowed around him even in the windless chamber, combining with his red eyes to give him the appearance of an enormous, monstrous spider awaiting its prey.
The enormous stone door that was the entrance to the throne room, and blue light poured in as Kai stumbled inside. He slumped over for a second, heaving harsh, raspy breaths, before he slapped the gaping gash in his side and stood to his full height. There was barely an inch of his body not covered in cuts and bruises, and his one remaining eye was filled with the horrors he had seen, but he still wore a smirk of complete confidence.
Mavos sighed. "Great, now they're sending kids. Let's just get this over with so I can reanimate my troops." He rose above his throne, holding out his hand to materialize a staff of pure darkness. His voice boomed across the chamber, rattling the walls; "Fool who dares challenge Mavos, king of the night, who has killed hundreds of adventurers and whose undead legions will soon march upon the realm of the living! Know you have no chance of victory! Surrender, and I will make your death a quick and painless one." Mavos held his staff out in front of him, and charged up an enormous bolt of chaotic dark purple energy.
And hesitated. Mavos had made this speech dozens of times. He had seen adventurers cower and pray for mercy or attempt to flee. Most had hunkered down into a sturdy stance, ready to dodge or deflect. He had never once seen one charge with the reckless abandon that Kai exhibited, sprinting ahead with his sword held high and no trace of fear in his face.
That hesitation was costly. It meant his opening salvo was ever so slightly off target, allowing Kai to sidestep the attack without breaking stride. Mavos barely managed to teleport away before Kai leapt and slashed the air where he had been in a gleaming blue arc of his sword. Without losing momentum, Kai turned to charge towards where Mavos now floated, dodging the hurried bolt of energy meant to rip apart his unguarded back.
"Know this, king of night," Kai said between pants in a deep voice clearly intended to sound cool and intimidating. "You were dead before I even entered this chamber. Because, as is fated by the prophesy, I. Cannot. Lose."
For the first and last time, Mavos panicked. He had spent his entire life pursuing power, lording his might over pitiful peons who could do nothing but tremble at his majesty. Here though, was an adventurer, nothing more than a child, who should have been terrified, and was not. It was a reckless confidence, a disregard for death that Mavos could not even conceive of, and it scared him.
Mavos's spells failed him as his panic made him lose control. His reactions slowed, his bolts flew wide, and the cloak he wore slowly settled to land limply at his sides. As the tides turned, all other thoughts were pushed out of Mavos' head by his blind panic, and his spells deteriorated faster, and the gleaming blue sword began to nip at his cloak as his teleportation slowed.
At the end, when Mavos collapsed empty-handed before Kai, whose sword was raised in preparation for the final blow, all he could feel was terror of a child whose true power amounted to little more than a very convincing lie. | Defeating the Dark Lord wasn't hard. Of course, the real problem came after I returned to the camp where all those people who'd trained me and told me about the prophecy stumbled around like headless chickens. ''*There was no prophecy, we just told you that so you'd feel braver, have more confidence.*'' They all mill around anxiously and feel extremely confused. ''*How did you kill an immortal sorcerer!?*'' I smile. Ever since they fetched me from my village, I'd known something was wrong. Like there was a script to things, like this wasn't entirely real. I gripped my sword and turned to those supposedly wise and ancient masters who had instructed me. ''*What was the point of that. If you thought I was going to be unable to defeat the Dark Lord, then why did you send me to fight them?*'' They look at me with shocked faces. They'd all treated me like I was some sort of gullible and easily manipulated country bumpkin, and I'd gone along with it, wanting to see the end results. In truth, rather than the foolish but goodhearted hero I'd been playing at, I was quite different. So I'd accepted the invitation from the Dark Lord, one duel to determine the fate of the world. One duel to see whether the forces of oppression or freedom would carry the day. Because I'd discovered his secret weakness. Something that he could never have anticipated. A weapon from another world.
One of them, the supposedly good wizard Wonkelkin speaks up nervously. ''*Uh, well, we figured, that with a hero rising behind them, the people might overthrow the evil empire, and uh, bring freedom to the realm.*'' I glared at him, my eyes usually empty pools devoid of thought, had become like daggers pointing at these supposed masters. ''*That's bullshit and you know it.*'' Not waiting for them to respond I pulled out my father's old weapon. Instead of the fancy glittering magical self-cleaning sword they'd given me, I held aloft a weapon from another world. And I pulled the trigger. The good wizard and the wise masters screamed, as I unloaded an entire clip into the wizard's head. He was the most dangerous of them, with his magic. ''*I investigated, in secret, the whole arrangement behind the rebellion. My surprise was great when I discovered that it was a cover story, an attempt to quell a rebellion by making a fake prophecy; finding some naïve kid who'd fit the bill of being strong and handsome, and making them the leader of the uprising against the Dark Lord. Then once the ill-trained peasants see their hero struck down, they're demoralised and easily defeated by the legions of the dark lord, and you lot, the so-called wise masters, goes back to being the Council of Shadows, the primary government under the dark lord.*'' I laughed as the men around me reacted. The Council with shock at the revelation of their deception, my peasant soldiers and rebels with the devastating experience of their whole lives being false.
I wasn't an idiot. I investigated all manner of angles, how the wise masters had focused the rebellion under their command, through trickery and lies. How the money we used was swindled out of our hands, how it was all a plot to make the Council richer and further secure the Dark Lord's rule. ''*But nothing lasts forever.*'' I said as I reloaded my gun. ''*My father wasn't from our world. Oh no. He came out of some strange reality, from a city in another world. He was born in the city of Sheate-Etel, in the kingdom of Wa'shin Ton, a vassal kingdom to the Merican Empire. His weapon comes from his world, and he taught my mother and I the secrets of guns, and the making of bullets.*'' With precise shots, raining out from the gun, just as my father taught me, I killed the entire government of the Dark Empire. The Dark Lord had been protected, as no weapon, poison, disease, or incident borne of this world could ever kill him. Stunned, my naïve peasant allies flocked to me, the destroyer of deception, and the ender of the Dark Lord.
I promised them freedom, and I promised them justice. So I gave them the freedom they had hoped for, by slaying the Dark lord, and the justice they had not known they needed, by ending those who had deceived them, who had dragged them here to die in pain.
I remember the words I was taught. About the importance of liberty. And instead of proclaiming myself king, I summon the wisest of our people from across the crumbling empire. Our rich supporters, our fellow cadre leaders, and with the stories told to me by my father in my mind, we pen a declaration together. It takes many days to explain the premise of my idea, of my grand design. But in the end, with all the stories of the wise men that formed the lands my father came from, and the ideals of the peasant uprising, we succeed in creating our own Edict of Independence, and our own Constitution. Promising liberty, life, and the right to pursue happiness. Promising equality and justice for all. One nation, under justice and freedom.
There would still be remnants of the Dark Lord's forces, and his loyal cults, to fight. Challenges would come ahead, but as the great prophet Kennedy had stated in my father's world, we stand now on the edge of a new frontier, a frontier of new hopes and new challenges. We are determined to stand as an example, free and strong, to our world. And standing together as one, under a banner of stars, we would conquer the problems of disease, war, and the uncompromising tyranny standing against us. We cannot fail the trust of our world, its huddled masses yearning to breathe free, and we cannot fail to try.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) | 2021-08-20T11:17:14 | 2021-08-20T09:48:36 | 423 | 179 |
[WP] Turns out man was never meant to fly. One day all the planes in the sky inexplicably freeze where they are. There can be no rescue. Most planes eventually run out of supplies and perish. It's five years later, however, and society is flourishing on Flight 3407 to Orlando. | Pilot Randy whistled as he ate his ration for the day and activated the communications system.
"Another sunny day on board Flight 3407, people! Sit back, relax, and enjoy your complimentary champagne."
He strolled around the plane shortly afterwards, handing out champagne. This was his favourite part of the day: making sure everyone was happy and satisfied, despite the whole plane-stuck-in-midair situation. His friends were safely seated and strapped in - he insisted on that, yes indeed. Just in case the plane started moving again. You never know, strange things happened in this world.
But until then, their little community got along well. Nobody ever complained or grumbled or hurt one another. He winked at the pretty lady sitting at the back of the plane as he passed her. He'd been eyeing her for a while now. It might be time to break things off with Cindy if this woman returned his affections. He was growing rather tired of Cindy, truth be told. She had a few annoying traits. Quite a terrible conversationalist, too, and he valued good conversation.
Sally breathed out shakily as Randy passed her. She didn't know how things were going on the other frozen planes, but she'd almost prefer dead than in her current situation.
Stuck with the mentally unstable man who thought he was the pilot. Who was probably responsible for poisoning everyone's rations for the day soon after the disaster had struck. Luckily she'd been too sick to eat anything at the time. And ever since, she'd been able to sneak away little portions of food for herself without Randy noticing.
She watched him from narrowed eyes as he leaned over and kissed one of the corpse's cheeks and handed her an empty glass. Cindy, one of the air hostesses who had lasted the longest. But soon, he would get bored of pretending Cindy was talking back to him. She'd seen the way Randy had looked at her.
She'd risk it tonight, when he slept. She'd heard him muttering about the parachute in the cockpit at the beginning of this whole nightmare, before his meds had run out. Maybe he had actually been telling the truth. He'd been assistant to the pilot, after all.
Tonight, it was time to find out.
-------
You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | I sit down in one of the vomit stained seats as a 40 something year old finishes off the last bottle of jack Daniels. He walks down the aisle stumbling and falls over. "Fucking drunk" I hear someone say under their breath. The entire plain smells of death. The air is still and stale. I need a break. I walk over the bodies on the floor. I wonder what their lives must have been like before the flightless day. Some committed suicide when the food supplies started to drain, some became sick and died because of our lack of medicine. Some didn't gather enough food and died of starvation. I clear these thoughts from my head and open the bathroom door. I stop in my tracks as I see the motionless pilots body with a cord around his neck. His eyes are so lifeless, empty. His lips are blue and he is slowly swaying back and forth with his feet inches above the ground. I turn around and shut the door and just start to cry. We all thought the pilot could have been the one to save us. He was the last bit of hope. Why did he kill himself? He was trying to find a way out of here and he had enough provisions to survive for weeks. I run towards the cockpit and understand why he killed himself. I see another plane in front of us. Mother fuckers had a disco ball. | 2016-08-31T08:20:04 | 2016-08-31T07:28:24 | 414 | 97 |
[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird... | >"Look," I said, "we need to talk."
Since my earliest years, I've been friends with Death. I found her standing over my best friend at the age of seven, shaking her head and opening her arms. Being so young, I did not understand the implications of my actions and sprung to her with tears in my eyes. Locked in Death's embrace, I felt safe.
>*"Yes, Alex?" Death asked, tilting her head to the side.*
In those years of childish wonder and discovery, Death was my older sister. She sat on the porch when I played with friends. She sat beside me when no one else would. She gave me the chance to talk with the deceased, too young to have known great grandparents and great aunts or uncles. Death was kind, and in return I was her friend. For children, so innocent, do not understand.
>"It's about..." I trailed off. "...my father."
As we grew older and I shed off the body of a boy, we grew closer. Romantically. Death didn't age, and I found her beautiful. She liked me, and without words exchanged and confirmation sought, we sat together in pleasant company. We understood one another. And I understood that Death did not mean harm whenever she took another to the great beyond. The natural order of things needed to be kept.
>*"Hmm, what about him?" she asked, taking a step back.*
I guess we just weren't meant to be. Less kisses. Less hugs. More talks, and clashes. In my university years of studying medicine, my perhaps fickle heart sung out for another. Though we talked each day, I think Death felt uneasy at my attraction towards another. Yet I didn't blame Death when she was killed, drunk at the wheel on her 21st. But just like that, I was in Death's arms again, rambling through thoughts and holding her close.
>"Well, not just him," I admitted, gritting my teeth.
Over one of the holidays, I returned home to find my mother having fallen ill. Cancer. That was the first time I begged Death, calling on our friendship for just one favour. Alas, she could not, she told me, shaking her head. The natural order of things needed to be kept. With a heavy heart, I nodded and clung to the shreds of time left behind. My mother withered away, but still remains strong in pictures, in videos and in my memories to this day.
>*Death furrowed her brows, taking another step back.*
My father disappeared soon after, taking to alcohol to fill the void left behind. No matter how much he poured, the liquor could never fill that haunting hole. Struck by liver failure, I loosened my tongue and pleaded with my friend, Death. Once more she reminded me, the natural order of things needed to be kept. At the very least, she also said with arms around my head and clutching me close, it would not be my parents needing to attend my funeral.
>"I want you to be honest, okay?"
Our romance flared up after my father's death, a desperate grasping at any comfort that the world could provide. Death seemed happier in those times. I just survived. Grief came and went, and near the end Death's worried face had become her default again. I tried my best to reassure her, we would always be friends of course. She... I know she wanted more.
>*Death nodded, showing an emotion I didn't know she had.*
My first girlfriend, months after me and Death took to friendship over romance, died in a car accident. I blamed myself, not paying enough attention when a truck ran a red light and T-boned her side. At least, I had Death there to comfort me.
>"Do you," I asked, pausing.
Second girlfriend, also gone through an accident. An old lady had a stroke, her car killed them both on impact. My second dog managed to break out the house, he drowned in a lake on a cold winter's day. And through it all, Death stood by my side.
>"Love me?" I winced at asking. She was still my friend, I think.
Depression took hold somewhere in between it all. And though I had death, I wanted something more. The company of immortals is only sought out at the end of one's life, never near the middle.
>*Death didn't make a sound.*
Three attempts, all foiled through chance.
I raised the gun to my head, and pulled the trigger.
*Death finally made a sound, shouting a powerful, "No!"*
The natural order of things need not be kept.
Locked in Death's embrace, she would never let me go.
****
Come and visit **/r/AlexUrwin** for more stories.
| She sat on the bench alone as usual, busy with her knitting. She was pretty, but not in the conventional sense: long, high cheek bones ran smooth as glaciers all the way down to her tiny chin; her eye sockets were deep and sullen, and covered curiously by old, thin framed spectacles. Athough she had no lips, she had beautiful long teeth, as white as a new born sheep.
She looked up and saw me watching. She quickly flicked her head away and concentrated again on her knitting. I sat down on the bench, beside her.
"Hello," I ventured.
She shot me a curious look and nodded curtly, before returning to her labours.
"What are you knitting?" I asked, genuinely curious. She seemed to only have one colour of wool.
She paused for a moment before placing the needles down and looking at me. She pointed at the puddle of midnight on her lap, and then she tugged at the cloth she wore.
"Oh, a new robe?"
She nodded happily, and I made out a lipless smile.
"Your name's Death, right?" I asked. She first frowned, then responded with a reluctant nod.
"You can't speak, can you?"
She opened her mouth and pointed to her missing tounge. Or more accurately, *didn't* point to it.
"Oh. Well, there's a lot to be said for silence."
She laughed. It was an odd sound, something between a pig being slaughtered and a rose blossoming. I smiled.
"Some people are scared of you, you know. They think you're cruel."
Her eye sockets widened and her shoulders sank; she looked painfully sad.
"Not me. You only take people in great pain. People who shouldn't be living. You're kind. I think, I'd call you 'Autumn,' or something, not *Death*. Like how Autumn takes the leaves and plants that have had their time, and makes room for the new ones to come in Spring."
She beamed, and placed a hand on my knee in a *thank you*. Her touch was cold, but not uncomfortably so.
"You like Autumn? Then, *Autumn* it is."
At that moment a tiny mouse scuttled out of a bush. It moved slowly and seemed unsure of itself; it was clearly old and I suspected it was blind. Eventually, it crept up to Autumn's skeletal foot, sniffed curiously for a moment and then keeled over onto its back.
Autumn looked at me and fidgited nervously with her glasses. "It's OK," I reassured her, "It was probably my fault - I really need a shower."
She smiled as she gingerly picked up the tiny creature. She stroked it tenderly with the back of a boney finger, and then popped it into the pitch black bag that rested near her feet.
We were quiet for a moment, sitting in peace and enjoying the crisp night air. I broke the silence with another question. "Why do you come here every night?"
She put a hand under her chin as she considered. Then she pointed up with a long thin finger. I followed her aim and looked at the clear night sky. A tempest of stars danced above us. For a while, I simply stared. "They're beauitful, and there are *so* many. To be honest, they kind of blow my mind."
She made a fist and placed it by her chest. She then drew it away slowly, extending her fingers out as she went. She made a noise like a bomb exploding, and I laughed.
"Hey, look, I know we've only just met, but... do you fancy grabbing a coffee? I know this nice litt-"
She nodded happily. I don't think she'd ever had a friend before. She quickly packed up her knitting and we walked away together. Me, and Autumn.
---
For plenty more stories come visit /r/nickofnight
| 2017-01-21T05:04:54 | 2017-01-21T04:37:13 | 2,175 | 1,335 |
[WP] You drive into a town around the time the sun is coming up. Everyone is closing up shop and shutting down as if it were getting late. Confused, you ask someone yawning at a gas station; "Don't be out after dawn, that's when the sun beast roams around." | &#x200B;
This has to be a joke right, I thought to myself.
How can an entire town be involved in such an elaborate prank? Are they so well coordinated! They might be! Because it is a small town of nearly 300 people in the middle of no-where.
I adjusted the rearview mirror. I could see all the shops, small diners closing up.
The gas station attendant had already gone inside. He hollers at me, “Mister, you really do not want to be outside this early in the morning !”
I glance in the rearview mirror, adjusting my hairdo. I dial Aaron’s number.
One ring
Two rings.
“*Hey Man! Where are you? You were supposed to reach here last night*,” Aaron spoke as he picked up the phone.
“*I got caught up in some work, I am here right now and it’s really strange…*.”
“*What did you say? Where are you right now*” I could hear the quiver in his voice?
“*I am here buddy, Desperation. Next to the gas station. Weird name for a town…*” I say chuckling into the phone.
“Bro, you are not supposed to be out, this time of the day,” there was undeniable fear in his voice
I could listen to Aaron taking deep breaths, probably to calm his nerves.
*“Listen to me carefully. This all might sound crazy, but it is true. An ancient being rules this town called the Sun Beast. The Sun Beast is the literal manifestation of the sun, no one has seen how he looks like, but people have claimed to witness a giant ball of brightness whizz past their homes. Anyone who has been found outside during the daytime has fallen prey to the Sun Beast. Over the years, we have seen many burnt, mangled corpses spread throughout the town. This all might sound incredulous to you, but you have roughly 5 minutes, before the sun comes up, knock at someone’s door, Do anything you can - be it crying or begging- but GET INSIDE !!*”
My mouth hung open, and my mind was not sure what to do with this information. I had mere seconds to decide. As I saw the sun slowly rising, I decided.
“*You have got a lot of explaining to do!*” I hung up the phone and start banging at the gas station guy’s door.
It’s almost sunrise. I call up Aaron.
“*Please, you need to pick me up! There’s no one opening up, Please Aaron. You got me in this mess*,” I speak as tears stream down my cheeks.
“*Are you crazy!! I told you to get inside*”
“*Nobody’s taking me in, Please come and get me, there is no time*”
“*Shit! Where are you?*”
*“I am at the gas station*”
Aaron rushes out of his place. The gas station is merely a few blocks away. The moment he steps inside the car, a colossal ball of brightness engulfs him. All I could see was bright sunlight and all I could hear were his screams.
I smile, as I look at the scene unfolding in front of me, from the Gas Attendant’s Shed.
“*You are a terrible man!*” the Gas Attendant sneers at me
I look at him and smile as I give him the money.
For someone who researches mythology and writes mythological fiction, the Sun Beast was not an unknown entity.
Aaron had invited me over to Desperation, as it was a quaint and peaceful town. A town where he got “most of his writing done”
Well, how could I have ignored an invitation from a professional colleague and friend?
Especially when the same friend had shamelessly plagiarized and copied my work and published it as one of his own. | 'What of the sunbeast
that roams the blanched Earth
could possibly settle
its staggering girth?'
&#x200B;
I blinked at the town's welcome sign, which was faded as if it had been in the sun for eternity. Barely readable.
It was a tiny town in the middle of a desert. My dusty car hadn't got a trickle of gas left in it, so I was forced to stop at this place.
I trekked across the sandy floor, hoping to grab a drink. But all the shops around were packing up for the day.
My watch read 8:30.
Weird.
A gas station caught my eye, the paint flaking off of everything.
There was an older woman, tiredly yawning against her car. I made my way over to her, hoping to get some answers.
She looked me up and down after I asked her. "Don't be goin' out after dawn. That's when the sunbeast roams around. Don't want to be caught out with that sucker," her eyes swept around for a second as if she were worried about it hearing her.
"The what?"
"It'll be up at nineish. Stay inside 'till dark skies, yeah?" She walked off, leaving me even more confused.
"Dumb kid. Why's he not going over t' the inn or som'th?"
The voice turned me towards an old man sat against a dried-out fence of the station. He was talking to himself, eyes trained on me. A tingling feeling entered my body.
"Excuse me?"
The man gestured with his finger for me to come to him. "What you'll want to do is get yer' behind inside. The only place'll allow you is t' inn."
"Why do I need to stay inside? What is a sunbeast?"
"Can't read? It'll dry you till the'res not'in left than yer' bones. If that. Burnt man you'll be," he wheezed.
Something shook me about that. I left the man's company and went to the inn. I'd rather trust the locals than my tourist self.
"Where is the inn?" I said aloud.
Everyone was inside now. An abandoned town is what it looked like now. My watch read quarter to nine. The sun got brighter, and brighter still. I couldn't see anymore.
What was happening?!
My eyes burned, so I kept them close. I felt the hot sun on my skin, like nothing before. I didn't understand. The desert wasn't as cruel as this.
"What is this?" A voice boomed from above, deep and hoarse.
I was crouching now, pulling my clothes over my burning skin.
It was the Sunbeast...!
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Didn't have long to write, hope you enjoyed reading it :-) | 2021-04-26T10:11:16 | 2021-04-26T06:08:08 | 37 | 18 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | Those humans. Those weak, pathetic Humans. Or so we thought. We decided to eradicate them. They where allies with many of our enemies, and had been providing raw materials to them to fuel them in their war with us. We knew they had to die.
And Besides, they where so pathetic. Squishy bodies, lacking a hard chitin to protect them, oversized eyes. They weren't *good* at anything, just average at everything. They can barely run at 10 m/s, have below average smell and sight, even with those weird eyes. Squishy and *cute*.
And they knew nothing of interstellar war. Oh we knew they had a few forays in their history, a few hundred thousand dead there, a million or two here. But they had given in to cowardice and now worked for *galactic peace*.
They didn't expect us, and so we had attacked their home, their precious Earth, before they even realised. Billions dead. That was how to do warfare. Kill enough and break their spirit.
We expected them to militize their economy when we began our assaults, but we didn't expect it to happen overnight. We moved more of our fleets into their space and they began modifying their ships ready for combat within a few months. We hadn't expected how quickly they could adapt to situations. I could almost admire them for it, if I didn't hate them so.
After the first few battles, they proved themselves actually quite talented at killing. Oh they where using Adanai technology, no doubt gotten through one of their many trade deals, but they used it very differently to the Adanai. They experimented with strange tactics, such as using the ability to hyper jump whilst towing small meteors to create a simple yet effective trebuchet of sorts.
When we withdrew from their space to regroup, we thought that would be the end of it. I wish it had been. They kept coming first invading our space, and then blockading our planets. We thought we could match them, ship for ship, and outgun them with our dreadnaughts. But more and more of their ships kept coming. Soon we where not only fighting a defensive war, but one we couldn't win.
They waited till we tried to surrender to begin the extermination. Every planet, bombarded from orbit simultaneously with those bombs. We are somewhat resistant to fallout, but they completely destroyed the atmosphere, turning our worlds into tombs for our people.
And they did not stop until they got to me.
I, Commander *SCRTCH* am the last of my people. They left me alive merely to bear witness to the destruction they had brought. The gift of death was too good for the one who had massacred their home, they said. And so here I stand, on the tomb of my people, recording this message for posterity. If any future civilisation finds this, I tell you, don't cross the humans. They have no concept of honorable warfare. They only bring death. | they had nothing, their ships fragile and slow. their bodies soft and weak.they were so little of them that the take over would last an hour at most.
no resistance at first, the poor fools hadn't even built defences around their outer most planets. the ships sailed the heaves in an arrow formation. the ground units praying to their gods, thinking on what part of the human body to take as a trophy, fingers seemed the most popular choice.the soldiers joked around and imagined drinking wine from human skulls as the ships were shaken, from the windows flashes could be seen, messages where shot between dwindling ships to try to figure out what was going on. only one remained its engine burning and falling, limping back home, when the flashing stopped , around it shards and ashes glittered with the white rays of the sun.
Like fire the stories spread, an army to take over a system whipped out with the snap of a finger, rumors and hope spread trough oppressed systems. force demanded force and army twice as strong was sent, veteran fighters, pilots generals, dreadnought so abundant that they bloated out the shine of all stars. but as if the universe was reborn they were all gone, the shine so bright it can still be seen in some planets near the human systems.
the propaganda spread like a disease, claiming the humans where extinct, extinguishing the fire in many hearts. but then it was seen, a rain of fire striking the core planets of the empire, the mushroom-shaped clouds submerging them into a never ending winter.
and they knelt, the mighty empire who had ended so many lives and extinguished so many lights, the humans had a weapons they heated with all their hearts, a threat to their existence turned their salvation, humans had learnt to manipulate and weaponized the very fabric of the universe. a nuclear weapon. They were honored, the saviors of the enslaved, but everyone feared that they would take a dark turn, the new empire could be built in endless winters. they were revered but always under suspicion in the eyes of most. in secret the workings of the smallest parts of the universe began to be researched. | 2020-02-07T16:29:03 | 2020-02-07T15:55:54 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | "What does all of this even mean?" Garrok asked aloud. She and Farrun scanned the transmission for a fifth time, attempting to glean the intent behind the nonsense they had been given. They understood what radiation was but most of the words seemed straight out of fantasy. What was a 'fallout?' Or 'scrubbing?' What reaction did they mean by 'runaway reaction?'
"It's a threat from humanity, clearly, but a threat of what?" Farrun asked. They both knew what he was referring to. The war against humanity started barely a galactic day-cycle ago. It was an honorless ambush on humanity's home system but even she, simple researcher that she was, felt that such a thing was necessary.
Humanity was, without a doubt, the greatest nuisance the Larr'ell race had ever faced. Eons of galactic economic supremacy undermined by weak, furless monkeys who happened to know how to butter people up. They were a pathetic race barely fit for combat and they somehow leveraged the sympathy their many weaknesses brought them into a political and economic hegemony that threatened both the current galactic economy and the Larr'ell way of life.
A decapitating strike was necessary and an ambush the only feasible option. They had left humanity unimpeded and now they had too many allies for them to face and so the government, with the people's blessing, decided to strike the valgrax at its heart or die trying.
Humanity's single-minded focus on industrial and logistical technologies created a vulnerability that they needed to exploit before it was closed. The Larr'ell and their few remaining allies could not afford a drawn out battle. Human ships may have been mobile like no other but they lacked the power or durability they needed to overpower the Larr'ell capital fleet in a single decisive battle. If they could force them to the table before they could shift to a wartime economy, they could win unconditionally. And so that was what they did. They forced them into a single, decisive battle last she heard. Humanity's swift defeat should have been a foregone conclusion. Was a foregone conclusion.
So why was she feeling incalculable dread as she skimmed the contents of the transmission for a fifth time. The transmission arrived unencrypted and unobstructed straight into the capital of their homeworld. She could imagine how badly the Data Defense Department were being chewed out for that oversight. Strangely, civilian targets had been the recipients of the transmission instead of the governmental or military ones: hospitals, research labs, and even weather centers. The government itself was in a frenzy over the attack. They believed it was an ultimatum. She couldn't help but worry that they were right but she wisely kept that opinion to herself. The air around the war declaration was of jubilation after all. They had made their bed and anything less than full commitment would not only ruin their legacy but that of their entire race.
She felt the impact before she heard it. The ground beneath her seemed to give before catching itself and she felt the pressure drop for a moment. And then the boom: a mind-shattering bang followed by a rolling rumble that seemed to drag on forever. She'd first thought one of their kinetic cannons had misfired and launched a rod somewhere nearby but no weapon she knew of in their arsenal made that sort of terrifying sound.
She gathered her senses around the time she began hearing the screams. Farrun, who had somehow gotten on his feet before she did, stood by the window, face black and bloodless. Reluctantly, she looked out the window to see. What she didn't see though would haunt her for the rest of her days.
The crown jewel of their empire, the seat and cradle of the Larr'ell civilization, her beloved Beiran, was gone. An ashen hand holding a war hammer rose up from where it once stood, as if only now judging its bloodcurdling handiwork done. She and Farrun stood motionless as a second transmission from the humans was received.
"Any survivors within 532 breadths of the blasts should be considered to have suffered permanent genetic damage. They cannot be saved. Any survivors within 532 and 727 breadths of the blasts must evacuate immediately or risk permanent genetic damage. Any survivors within 727 and..." | "What do you mean its gone?" General Ashak asked, half angry, half confused.
"We've lost communication, we no longer have visual confirmation of its existence, the airspace where the fleet should be is vacant of anything but a bit of debris. It just vanished." The ensign replied.
Ashak closed both sets of eyelids hard enough to see spots of bright color bloom in his mind. His tongue flicked the air in annoyance.
"Did they make hyperspace?" He asked after a long moment of contemplation. He didn't even want this war. He was supposed to retire next year. The humans had never done anything to him. He had no quarrel with them. But the Empress, may the sun forever shine upon her, wanted their technology. Supposedly they had discovered a method of mining rare minerals for almost zero energy cost.
"Our instruments say no. They were there one minute and gone the next."
A young private, probably in his early 400s, barely past his first shed, sprinted onto the deck of the command ship.
"General," he saluted, right fist to left shoulder, first and second claw extended in the traditional manner. "I've been sent with an urgent message. All remaining fleets are to return to the capital. The humans have launched a counter attack."
"With what? Sure they have amazing tech, but when it comes to war they're little more than hatchlings with pointed sticks."
"My apologies, sir, but this private does not know."
"Very well. Spread the word: were preparing to male hyperspace for return to Arin. All crew in their stasis pods withing the half-hour."
---------‐----------------------
2 hours later the stasis pod beeped and opened. Akash stepped out, rubbing his eyes, groggily. He made his way to the bridge and turned on the forward view screen to begin docking procedures.
He flipped the switch on the communications board and said into the mic, "Arin tower this is The Empress' Holy Ship Desert Sun. Reporting for orders and preparing to dock. Please send docking code and stand by for touchdown."
He began flipping more switches as the rest of the flight crew made their way into the room.
"Sir, I dont understand. We were supposed to arrive directly above Arin." The navigator sounded unsure.
Akash looked at the screen for the first time and nearly lost his cool. The screen showed a large crater, with rubble strewn about like a hatchlings playroom. He recognized some buildings, the base where he had trained after joining the military, his hatchlings school and the office building his mate worked in, all little more than crumbling walls and shattered stone. Several more ships materialized in the sky around the Desert Sun. Soon the air waves were crowded with captains and generals demanding to know what happened. Within the next 4 hours, the entire armed forces of the Grellian empire hovered above a city that was no longer there.
A single missile blipped on the instrument panel. Some from another ship laughed hysterically about the humans single missile against the entire military.
Akash thought of his hatchlings and his mate. He missed them already. What sorcery could have done this.
The missile detonated against one of the ships. It was engulfed in a small star in the span of a second. The world went quiet, and akash shut his eyes. He felt the heat wash over him. And the Grellian empire ceased to exist. | 2020-02-07T15:32:23 | 2020-02-07T14:41:07 | 49 | 22 |
[WP] Unlike most people with super powers, you're perfectly content to mind your own business while using your powers in normal everyday activities. However the heroes seem to have decided that your disinterest in world affairs is suspicious and you're clearly faking it to hide your true agenda. | "So, that's it, then." Pan massages his temples and stares at me from across the table. He looks different without the equipment. Athletic wear, corporate logos, speaker systems. I wouldn't believe this slight, curly haired kid could break a parking garage with his voice, but he did. Pretty recently, too. Had to sign with Ricola to pay for repairs. That was a helluvan ad. Caused an actual avalanche. Shook the ice so hard it *melted.* I don't think anyone's ever melted a mountain before.
"Well, yea. I don't plant bombs in people's brains, I don't go rob banks."
"But you're also not helping anyone." Titan's Gift weighs a bit heavier on him. He wears his suit. It's more like a mish-mash of logos and signatures than anything, at this point. I guess his PR team's really good. I've got no clue if he signed with these companies because he wanted or *needed* the money.
"So you're okay with just sitting on the sidelines, doing nothing? Not gonna try to end some of the military conflicts of the world?" Pan grabs the sandwich I've made for him and smells it. His eyes narrow. I roll my own and teleport the PB & J onto my plate and take a bite. Make a big show of chewing and swallowing before mockingly grabbing my own throat and asphyxiating. Titan grabs his five sandwiches and tears into them.
"I'd get shot at. Plus it's harder to accurately move things if I'm under pressure."
"So, you don't wanna help people because you're afraid you'll hurt them. And, obviously, you don't wanna hurt people." Pan taps off his recording device, some small wrist watch shaped like his signature leaf, and steals a sandwich from the juggernaut beside him. "Good enough, for now. So what do you really want, then?"
"I want to make the perfect peanut butter jelly sandwiches. Teleport the jelly and smooth, smooth peanut butter onto gently toasted bread. Never have to dirty a knife or ruin a jar of PB."
"...You're totally demented. You're the worst kind of monster" He looks at me in horror, dropping his sandwich. "Everyone knows chunky peanut butter is better." | "What are you doing?"
"What the hell dude. I'm literally living my life like a normal person. Is it such of a big shock that, dare I say, I *don't want to be a hero nor a villain*? I don't care if anything happens, I enjoy my flowers more! It helps anyways because I can control nature. You kidnap a law-abiding citizen for no reason, because you're angry that I'm not doing anything? What kind of *hero* does that?"
"What are you doing."
"Nothing, idiot. See, this is why I don't engage in heroic and villainous affairs. You're seriously making me consider joining the villains, and that's not exactly good for you, considering my power is literally life and I can kill you with no effort."
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" the hero, seemed to have enough of my reasonable talk.
"Nothing, dimwit. Besides actually getting thing done. My flowers are very popular here. I've donated to dozens of charities pushing for eradication of domestic and sexual abuse, donated to thousands of charities trying to stop queerphobia, homelessness, hunger, and climate change. I'm literally doing a bigger service to the world than you are."
"STOP!" the hero yells.
I sigh. "Can you just let me go? I haven't done anything. Actually, I'll let myself go."
I put their mind and body into a state between life and death. And escaped. | 2021-08-16T17:15:46 | 2021-08-16T14:31:11 | 215 | 117 |
[WP] You've kept an aquarium full of tiny fish since you were a kid. Twenty years and many generations of fish later, you can't help but notice that they have started showing signs of regarding you as their deity. | The Book of Hippotang
C. 1
1. The Almighty Devon shall rejoice in those who turn to Him alone. 2. Behold, it is He who resides beyond the firmament. 3. “Turn,” He exclaims, “Turn to me thou fishes, that I may see thee.” 4. I, Trouty the Blue Hippotang, was taken on a journey beyond the firmament into the realm of our Lord Devon. This is my journey: 5. Behold, the Lord’s hand reached out to me from beyond the firmament. 6. A great deluge of water approached from the North, from the land of Flying Dutchman, that is known today as Sunken Ship. 7. Yea, I witnessed the Lord use a divine tool made of green netting. 8. I was lifted up by the mighty divine tool of Devon beyond our realm. 9. It was the same divine tool witnessed by the prophet Bubbles. 10. And these are the generations of the Clown Fish prophets of the tank: 11. Marlin begot Nemo, Nemo begot Jules, Jules begot Lovecraft, Lovecraft begot Bubbles. 12. And these are generations of the Blue Hippotang prophets of the tank: 13. Dory begot Squishy, Squishy begot Patrick, Patrick begot Squidward, Squidward begot Trouty. 14. Behold, I was lifted up by the mighty divine tool of Devon beyond our realm. 15. And this is what I beheld: a numerous choir of Bass hung from a great wall. 16. As I passed them, they moved and sang these words: 17. “You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog.” 18. Life drained from me as I passed through this middle realm before the divine realm for I could not breathe. 19. I quickly descended into the divine realm which was devoid of anything found in the tank. 20. There came a voice in this realm that spoke to me, saying: 31. “Now, hang there a bit, little guy, so I can get the rest of your fishy friends. I have to clean the tank before Brenda gets home.” | \*Lem taps on the aquarium\*
Lem likes to tap because he believes the vibrations are soothing for the fish (really it's an excuse to entertain his minor OCD). He does this three times a day, five taps each time except on Saturday and Sunday when he sleeps over at Lina's place.
\*The fish start accumulating at the site of his tapping\*
Lem hasn't seen this in the 20 years he's owned the damn thing. For the first time since he got the aquarium the fish are actually doing something interesting.
\*The weekend passes, Lem decided to stay at Lina's an extra night\*
On Tuesday morning he goes for his usual tapping, but his index finger stops short of the glass. A mutilated fish is at the center of the aquarium. The tail is missing and it's entrails are all over the tank. He feels about puke and there is a rumble of burning emptiness in his gut. The fish start congregating at the site of where his finger usually taps and they collectively carry the tail. He calms down and reminds himself that nature can be cruel, this is nothing. It can't be anything but nothing after all.
\*After next weekend\*
Lem enters his apartment and all that comes out is a silent scream.
Note: I'm relatively new to writing, please let me know your thoughts! | 2019-09-24T23:39:10 | 2019-09-24T23:26:50 | 33 | 10 |
[WP] You are a detective in 1890 Austria. The man inside the interrogation room claims to have an incredible secret that will exonerate him from his murder charge. You can't imagine what monster would murder a 1 year old child, let alone one as adorable as young Adolf Hitler was. | "If you're trying to get taken to the asylum for this," I replied, "it won't work. You *will* be hanged. So how about you tell us where you're really from. At least we can notify your family that way."
"I'm telling you, I'm from the future!" the assassin shouted.
"Oh yeah, what year?"
"2032."
I laughed. "Come on, man, everyone knows time travel isn't invented until 2349."
His face turned ashen. "Wait, what?"
"2349, dude. You never read a history book? So who you with? History Correction Movement? Jewish-Roma Rescue Alliance? Pacifists Interplanetary?"
"You --" he stammered -- "you already know about time travel? But... I invented it. And it *was* in 2032!"
Finally it clicked for me. I laughed out loud. The assassin looked like he was going to be sick. "Hey Hans, get in here!" I called down the hall. My partner came in, an eyebrow raised. "We've got an Independent!" I said.
"Whoa. We haven't had one of those in years. How long before '349?" he asked.
"Get this, he says he's a 21st-century boy."
Hans whistled. "*Twenty-first*," he said, drawing the syllables out.
The assassin turned to the side and vomited. Hans and I looked on, unfazed. "So buddy," I said, "I'm assuming that when you cracked time-travel, you didn't leave your notes around for anyone to find before you left."
"No..." he trailed off.
"They never do," I said.
"Never do," Hans nodded.
"Course, if you had left their notes behind," I said to the assassin, "I guess that'd've been the date in the history books. Who knows how many folks like you there were pre-'349, who cracked the secret but left without telling anyone. Everyone always figures they'll find a way to jump back forward. And they never do. We've seen, what, two hundred Independents so far, Hans?"
"Two hundred twenty-one," Hans said.
"Two hundred twenty-one," I repeated. "And that's just us, in the 500 years we've been here. Who knows how many of you went back to kill Stalin, or Mao, or their ex-wife for that matter."
"What the fuck is going on?" muttered the assassin, mostly to himself.
"You wanna explain it?" I asked Hans.
"Nah, you can."
"You ever hear the idea that we live in the best of all possible worlds?"
"Isn't that what *Candide* was making fun of?" the assassin asked.
"Yep," I answered. "And it's a fucking stupid idea. Only thing is, it just happens to be true."
"Oh come on--"
"You see," I explained, cutting him off. "When someone comes back and kills Hitler, the timeline they create actually winds up being *worse* than the original. Don't blame me. I think it's fucked up. WWII and all the shit that come afterward shouldn't be the best-case scenario. But I didn't make the system. Take it up with the man upstairs.
"So yeah," I continued, "that timeline's worse. A lot worse. In the original timeline, you get time travel in 2349. It took our people until 3283. That should tell you something. But when we did figure it out, boy, we made good use of it."
The assassin snorted. "Made good use of it? You didn't even stop me."
I looked at the clock. Hans saw the time, and stepped out of the room. I cleared my throat. "Sir, you stand charged with the offense of attempting to interfere with the original timeline. Under the Preservation Act adopted by the Inter-Timeline Council in 3302, I am authorized to administer a judgment and a sentence of my own accord. As such, you are hereby convicted and sentenced to death. The sentence will be carried out 24 hours ago, by Agent Hans Pintscher of the --"
At that point I looked up, and noticed the assassin was already gone. His handcuffs lay empty on the table.
----
^(Edit: Thanks, everyone, for all the nice comments and the constructive criticism. To be honest, I didn't think out the time-travel science in too much detail. I think part of the point of writing prompts is to let your words flow without worrying about making the story "polished." If I wanted to turn this into a proper short story, I'd definitely clear up some of the underlying science, and also make the exposition a tad less clunky. Thanks again for all the kind words!) | In my years on patrol we never saw a case or family, as odd as the Hitler’s. Now, they weren’t particularly odd or strange themselves; a little fruity, perhaps too artistic for most of us ‘townies’ as they called us, but nothing we hadn’t seen before. The first time, we were alerted about some suspicious persons at their house, what had to be about ten years before young Adolf was born; their uncle found this crazy fanatic trying to poison their water supply. After we chased him (half naked if you believe it) for a couple hundred kilometers, he would only say that he was on a mission of utmost importance and that we could never understand (something about the future, timlines, worms holes, and those damn Jews). He then started foaming at the mouth not long after that he died. Well we took what we had, filed our report and then tried to forget about it, not that it would do us much good. Now, you are starting to think that I’m pulling the wool over your eyes. The whole situation just seems downright unbelievable - hell I’d be the first one to agree with ya, maybe even doubt my memory. Well, that is if the same damned thing hadn’t happened every fucking year since. Almost like clockwork, winter fades, spring comes amongst us again, then sure enough some psychopath comes ready and rearing to kill them Hitlers. Don’t know what they did in the city or wherever they came from, but they must’ve really pissed someone off. That’s why as screwed up as the situation is, I can’t say that I’m a whole lot surprised someone actually managed to off the little bugger. I mean he was a cute little baby with a quick spirit. I knew the family personally, given all the time we spent together cause of the crazies and all. Hell that kid had this smile that could make you forget about everything, almost be willing to even kill for the bastard if he looked at you just right. Such a sweetheart, everyone who met him just adored the little guy. Until this sunovabitch got him. He just snuck in through with the rest of the crowd during little Adolf’s second birthday party. We were celebrating it early that year because the family felt spooked by April 20th being spring at all and no one wanting to jinx Adolph against their spring visitors. Well, that was the problem, this guy walked right in with the guests – smiled, greeted everyone, hell he was the most pleasant person at the party. That’s why it was so unexpected when he walked up to Adolf with the gift, only for it to be hiding a shaving razor he swiftly pulled across the poor child’s throat. That bastard is lucky he can still breathe. We tried interrogating him, to no avail. In identical fashion to all the rest he is acting like he is some great hero for the Jews, having saved them from annihilation. Well, we already know that those bastards are behind the downfall of our great country anyway and after this horrific showing we have more than enough proof. The entire country, nay the whole world will join us in our eternal quest to save the world from those evil child slayers, even the President of the United States himself has pledged himself to our cause, we will be victorious, we will have vengeance.
FYI, first post ever after 2 years lurking (just created an account for this). Did not proofread, as I would've been too afraid to post if I re-read it. I Hope you like :)
Yes, I know my commas are wrong, like I said no proofreading ;). Oh yea, it's late and I'm drunk so I hope that helps :), dammit formatting this sucks | 2015-03-30T00:21:44 | 2015-03-30T00:18:44 | 1,156 | 14 |
[WP] An unidentified dead human body is found in space. | i'm eating lunch and don't have time to develop the idea but...
Edit: i'm full of shit. This was too much fun.
One day, after a particularly bad spat and a night of binge drinking, Ralph stumbled home at almost 11am after having left during dinner the night before. This fight wasn't like the others. It wasn't cute. It wasn't funny. It was downright brutal and gut-wrenching and Alice knew, through and through, that she was in the wrong. She'd never seen Ralph so mad.
His return home had brought her some relief though that relief didn't last long. Ralph would normally come home after a tiff stinking of booze, certainly worse for the wear but nothing a few hours of sleep and a hot shower couldn't fix. Not this time.
No, this time Ralph arrived home looking substantially more collected than even before the fight of the previous evening, before Alice had revealed her terrible secret, her awful deed. Ralph didn't even look at her as he walked in the door, through the living room and down the hall to the storage closet.
Alice was worried. More than usual. Nothing made sense. Why wasn't Ralph drunk? Why didn't he look at her? His anger, at least, let her know that he cared but this cold, icy indifference was worrisome. Almost as worrisome as the fact that Ralph hadn't set foot in that closet since the day he came back from the war.
Bang. Zoom.
Years later, in 1969, the world had changed but Ralph hadn't. As the nation sat, transfixed by the news on the television, Ralph sat at the bar, alone. Ralph did that a lot lately. Barney couldn't look at him anymore and Alice, well, Ralph knew that wasn't worth thinking about.
Suddenly, the news reporter on the bar's tv cut through Ralph's thoughts.
"We are reporting live from Houston where NASA has allowed us to tap in on a feed directly from the Apollo 11 spacecraft where Astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin are about to set foot on the Moon."
As the feed from space popped and hissed to life, the tv had Ralph's full attention. "This is one small step for man, one giant leap for...What The Hell? Houston. Houston, we have a problem. We...we aren't the first ones here. There's a...a....a woman. It looks like a housewife. She's....i swear to jesus...she's strapped to a rocket, Houston. She's dead, it looks like she's been here for a while. Mother Mary, how did this even happen?!"
Ralph looked away from the TV. His eyes fell towards the glass in front of him. "To the moon, bitch. To the moon." | March 12, 2013: 13:00 My son asked me if he could sign my boot before I went up into orbit as a reminder that he'd always be there with me. Although against policy, I brought him to the gear storehouse and watched him scribble a large S on the heel of my left space-walk boot.
March 14, 2013: 19:00 As soon as the order came over the intercom I wrapped up the engine repair and raced toward to the airlock to fix the leak. I shed my gear but as soon as the door closed the ruptured gas tank exploded with a force that knocked me off, my already, floating feet. For one reason or another the ship rocketed forward beginning an orbit around earth with astonishing speed. Without gravity to stop us and constant acceleration we spun faster and faster around the blue dot I used to call home.
March 14, 2013:18:55 That's all I remember before I blacked out. When I came too I was still floating around the engine pod tinkering with a faulty gasket. I noticed, what appeared, to be an explosion in the distance but those are quite common as we see errant reflections of solar flares from time to time. I ignored it and went back to work until an oddly shaped object came floating past several yards away. All I could see was that it looked like a body in a wrecked space suit but my mind immediately discounted that idea as an unidentified corpse floating through space would be absurd.
What was so strange was that I was able to catch a glimpse of the body's boot. I noticed an oddly shaped mark that vaguely resembled an S—it sent a shiver down my spine. I simply assumed oxygen levels in my suit were dwindling and that I was seeing nonsense. I headed back toward the airlock a bit spooked about that left boot. | 2013-10-30T12:03:53 | 2013-10-30T08:34:56 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] You are the tenth generation honor guard for the immortals. As far back as pack memory goes, the immortals have provided food, shelter, and scritches. You fully expected the immortals to outlive you, as they did your mother and her mother before her. But something's wrong. The Alpha...is dying. | I have been a part of the Pack for 70 years, and though my bones creak and I feel a deep pain in my hindquarters, I worry for my Mistress. She went from standing upright, to moving slowly, to being bound to the chair in a matter of one of our years.
She sits there, rasping and scenting of something horrible. I lay by her side, whining as the Mistress' child stands there, fussing over the Machine Horror as it whilst and clicks in the night. She can still talk, but it is clearly harder now, and she has to stop a lot. She leaves a messy smell in her chair sometimes, and Mistress' aide helps her up to go use The Wet and Scented to clean Mistress up. She only stays for a few of their hours at a time.
I gathered the Pack the day she was taken away. I spoke to the aide, but she kept shooing me away as I told her, "Please take care of her." I howled as the door closed, and Son of Mistress came in, all grey and scent-hidden. He spoke to us a lot, and took care of us for the rest of our year.
/ / / / / /
One day, we were awoken to Mistress' return, but Son smelled of sadness and Mistress of finality. Pack barked our joy at seeing Mistress, but Son just patted us absently, and wheeled her up in front of the Shiny Mover. She moaned, barely above a whisper. Son left Mistress on the sitting thing that we weren't allowed on. I licked at her hand, and she gently stroked my head. I bounded up, and she held me there with all her tiny strength.
I closed my eyes, and knew that I would guard Mistress from what came next. I whuffed.
/ / / / / /
Martin came down the stairs in the morning, and knew something had happened early in the morning. He found his mom and Alice, his pet Red Setter, curled up together. He gently placed his hands on his mother's face and Alice's head.
He started crying as both were cool to the touch, and he pulled out his phone to start the process. | It was the Reg-scientists who first noticed something was off, even before we got a glimpse of disaster. A couple of years ago, the regulars started truly listening to their researchers when Terra grew too hot, but now they got scared of something else. The tides and the movement of the seas was changing. Something they called the Gulfstream was stopping and they were stressing about the European climate that would change more than expected. We took notice, but acted not, for it was not for the Council of Ancients to act to the needs of the Regs, but that was about to change.
My grandfather, Grand Master Odin VIII, summoned the Council in great haste. The First Immortal, the lady Luna, was dying. She seeded Earth with life, guarded it and sent out her family to the other planets. Now that she's dying however, she would take with her all that she created. My grandfather was worried, but knew not how to act and neither did the others or our masters. Eventually it was Luna herself who gave us a plan. We were to share our knowledge to help the Regs, sent them to new lands outside her influence, so they would be able to survive. The other immortals would support her and share their strengths to buy time. We hope the Regs will listen, but only time will tell if we can succesfully complete the last mission of our Order... | 2022-11-15T12:12:01 | 2022-11-15T11:43:57 | 269 | 23 |
[WP] Humans are the least intelligent species on Earth. The entire animal kingdom plays along out of pity for our idiocy. | "Awwww, what a good pupper you are!!!" Alex cooed to Rosey. "Aren't you the sweetest thing I've ever seen? What a good girl! Who's a good girl?"
When Alex had first picked Rosey from her litter, she had already heard from Mother at how unintelligent humans were. Always praising dogs and cats for doing very little and operating under the delusion that humans had domesticated dogs. While humans were correct in the assumption that cats domesticated themselves, humans were oh so incorrect thinking that they had domesticated dogs. No. According to Mother, their earliest ancestors had domesticated themselves following the same logic as cats - humans' opposable thumbs were a glorious product of evolution that made life so much easier for their ancestors.
But, it was also nice getting re-affirmation that she was a good girl. Praise always did feel better coming from an external source, even if it was from one of the least intelligent species.
Rosie barked obligingly before pawing at her human's legs. Really, humans were useful for so many things, praise, and ohhh... That head scratch sure hit the spot. Man, opposable thumbs sure were handy. | Kinda of what the Quran says. I remember reading a passage once that God wanted to give consciousness to animals but they all refused. Knowing that consciousness would come with responsibilities such as avoiding sins. Really, they just wanted to do their every day business without worrying about if they will go to heaven or not.
So God created another creature which would have consciousness, humans.
In that sense, I guess the animals are smarter. | 2017-10-22T02:51:15 | 2017-10-22T02:42:04 | 595 | 10 |
[WP] You often get mistaken for your twin sister. Though it never really bothered you, now that she's become one of the most feared criminals in city, it's starting to become a problem. | "That would be $6, mam."
I sighed as I pull my wallet, getting enough bill to pay my coffee. I knew I would palpitate after drinking this but I don't care. I barely make money as a writer since my sister lost her job.
My phone buzzed inside my pocket. I hurriedly answered the call, my boss' ID was flashed on the screen.
"Yes. I'm just getting my coffee, mam.. No problem. I'll work right away. Yes. What abou--"
My boss' words trailed past my mind like a speeding train as I saw my sister's face on the headlines, her cheeks oozing with youth and charisma as opposed to my sullen face beneath my black eyeglasses.
*"A 23 year old woman named Eli Mendoza was last seen in a parking lot in a restricted area on the day of October 28, exactly 10:47 PM. She was chased down by a group of underground syndicates known as Yakuza in which she was secretly involved. Reports said she was the new leader after the former leader had been ousted..."*
I stared at the television screen. My vision became hazier as the reporter's words echo across the coffee shop, daunting me to hide and never show up to the world.
"Hello? Ella? Still there?"
I quickly put my phone to my ears. "I'll call you later, Mam." Without giving another glance, I ended the call.
I move across the room with ease, my hands search for my hoodie as I made my way to the door.
I reached for the knob when a man gripped my shoulders way too hard, making me grit my teeth.
"IT'S HER! It's that woman on the TV! Call the police!"
I ran as fast as I could, darting past from one person to another as I made my way into a smaller pavement. My breath hitched with every move, I could feel my legs giving up.
I climbed past the obstacles with ease, thanks to my rebel days when I was still a child.
I ran with all of my strength. My lungs screamed as I halt, my knees barely support my entire body as I gripped them.
"Hands up. Don't move." My pursuant said.
I followed what they said. I put my hands in the air, my back facing them.
"Turn around."
I slowly turn around. My eyes scan every inch of them. Jet black jeans. Heavy duty boots. Glistening tops. Snarky grins.
A three-headed dragon on their arms.
They are all men, expect the person in front of me.
It wasn't her demeanor that bothered me. Or maybe it was. I hate how she carried herself with confidence and suave, reminding me of how clumsy and awkward I am. Her straight black hair didn't help either.
It bothered me how she sounds so familiar.
The woman removed her black helmet, flashing her pearl whites to me.
"It's good to see you, Ella."
My sister said, her tattoo glistens under the warm rays of the sun.
She sounds familiar but truth is, I don't know my twin sister anymore. | I walked into a local burger joint, my stomach rumbling furiously. A storefront picture of a double quarter pounder with extra cheese and bacon dubbed “The Chef’s Special” looked very appealing.
When the cheerful chef (and simultaneously the owner) noticed me, he immediately sprung from behind the counter, disregarding the others standing in line. Both those people and the patrons who already made their purchase started leaving in a hurry, leaving plates of half-eaten burgers behind.
“Miss Giovanni! What a pleasure to see you here today!”
It was happening again. I was being mistaken for my wonderful criminal sister, the monster feared by both the city’s innocents and other criminals. We do have the same family name and the same face, but other than that it’s a world of difference. (For example, she’s certainly more muscular than me, a couch potato). I was getting tired of those mix-ups. Maybe most of the time I would just explain the misunderstanding and leave the place in a hurry, but since I was running a bit low on cash, I decided to try and use my sister’s authority a bit.
“I’m only here to pay you a quick visit” I said, trying to make my voice as criminal-sounding as I can. “Give me the Chef’s Special and I’ll be going”.
He stared at me with disbelief in his eyes.
“But, already? I thought...”.
I made the scariest face I could and looked him in the eyes. “Now! And be quick about it.”
He hurried back to the kitchen just as I finished saying that, leaving me with that scary grin. I dropped it immediately and started smiling. I felt weirdly proud of myself, like a kid that managed to prank the teacher and get away with it. I had to put up the poker face again soon, since he came back, holding my order folded neatly in paper.
I took it, looked him dead in the eyes, nodded and left. I could hear a big sigh of relief behind my back.
It was only later that I noticed that what I received was not warm like a burger should be. In fact, it wasn’t even food. It was cash. The “Chef’s Special” must have been the code word for protection money.
Now I’m left with an empty stomach and money I have no idea how to launder. | 2019-11-03T07:06:10 | 2019-11-03T06:43:09 | 28 | 21 |
[Wp] Write a story that will make me question my morality.
Write a story that is so shocking it will make me question my morality.
Edit: Wow.
|
I woke with my bed on fire. The ceiling had collapsed onto my bed. There is smoke and fire all around me. I scramble out of bed and head to my parents room but all I find is more smoke and fire. At the top of the stairs I find a detached arm with a cracked watch. I bought my brother that watch for his birthday. I take the watch from the arm and make my way outside. There is fire and smoke and people running around not knowing what do to. The whole village is awake.
Three days later my Uncle picks me up in his pickup and I learn I will be staying with his family now. My aunt and Uncle are nice people but have no children of their own; they do look after one of my cousins already, while his father joins the police and is training. However my cousin is away working most of the time and just uses the house to sleep.
I’m angry. I do not know why my family was killed. I do not know why my house was destroyed. I do not want to be here. I want revenge. I begin lashing out at people. My uncle wants to beat me, I can tell. All he wants to do is hurt me. My aunt can barely look at me. I have no one.
I begin asking questions and I find a group to support people like me. They take in, look after and talk to survivors about what happened. I go to one of the meetings and they seem to share the same questions I do. The pointless killing. I look at the cracked watch, the only relic of my family I carry every day. I feel relaxed for the first time in months.
I’m invited to meet other members involved in the movement. I meet with them, and they are sympathetic to my story. They say they have answers. They say the Americans are just killing Muslims and there was no reason for the attack. They say they knew my father. I feel a connection to these people.
I move out of my terrible uncles house and into a community for people like me, effected by the bombings. 20 of us together in a small compound. The man in charge teaches us many life skills, and takes over our religious teachings. This is my family now.
Time passes.
I find myself strapped into a vest covered in explosives.
I look at my cracked watch.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Disclaimer. I'm not trying to be an apologist for anything or anti American here. I'm just trying to give a different perspective on things.
edit.
Thanks for the feedback. Edited format. | It's not the best of my writing, but I couldn't see such a great prompt, with a very difficult task go to waste. I have decided to pour out my small amount of talent into this prompt. Feel honored or amused, your choice.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Why should I follow these rules? Why should I listen to what Papa told me? He's a bloody hypocrite, the cops are bloody hypocrites, everyone is a bloody hypocrite.
I am told to be kind, and reasonable! But why should I? The world shits on me, what gives it the right to be reasoned with? What kindness does it deserve?
I am told to not kill, yet all around me, the enforcers kill. The police kill, the law kills, people kill in the name of their God which killed, even though they said to not kill. Why should I submit when others don't?
I am told to not steal, but my parents stole my childhood, the banks steal my money and my so called 'friends' steal my own self by influencing me for their own benefit, and to my own harm.
Everybody kills, everybody takes, sometimes it seems as if I am the only one, alone in this bubble to view the chaos from, instead of part of a horde, tearing down the world that it built. Well, I am tired of being stuck alone in the age of order. I'm tired of tending to the flames of a dying time. I shall break my bubble, and enter the age of me! [Writers note: The age of anarchy!]
| 2014-07-07T07:46:29 | 2014-07-07T06:58:02 | 207 | 34 |
[WP] Everytime you die, you wake up six years old again on your first day of kindergarten, remembering all your past lives. Today is your twelfth restart. | Alright, that last one was a waste, I admit it. Who know how many more attempts I'll get. But to be kind of honest, it really is quite a thrill diving head first into the ocean off the north tower of the Golden Gate Bridge when you're only eight years old. I'd lived a mere two years in my awakened state but had to take advantage of the fact I was an orphan and not many would miss me. Doesn't compare much to suicide by faulty parachute while skydiving though. Now that was something.
Anyways, I need to start being more practical with my lives. I still remember the first life I ever lived. Full of fear, of self-doubt. Paralyzed by a life constantly analyzed—perpetually stuck thinking about what I want to do instead of actually doing. A wife and two kids, yet I still died an empty and lonely life on my deathbed, hardly taken advantage of my status as grandpa of four years.
To have closed my eyes for what I thought'd be the last time in eternity but for it to have actually been a mere blink before I reopened them to a kindergarten classroom, well let's just say it was a lot to process.
My second time around, in spite of this game called life, I lived as a playboy fulfilling only my own desires, but that lead to a quick death. Another empty life.
Round three and four were tame lives, not even worth discussing.
Round five didn't last long given I was a born Black into a slave era. Thought I was one of the lucky ones to be getting a secret education at such a young age but once the Whites found out about it, it was the end of me.
Six through nine were pretty solid though, three iterations of Asian families to build my discipline.
Which lead to the year 1885. My Einstein days were a good haul. I'd say I contributed quite a lot with that life.
Round ten was solid. Exhausted from all the academia, had a quick run through the Olympics. I wanted another shot at science though, hence my skydiving "accident".
Eleven I was born a girl and I just knew given the corrupt and biased state of society, I wouldn't be able to reach the ranks I wanted. Humanity still needed more time to evolve.
And now here we are. The year is 1977. Not the best of lives so far, I admit. I'm bullied quite a bit and my father is emotionally abusive. It's interesting being born in South Africa but I sense a world of opportunity ahead in the United States. I may stick this life out and see what happens.
"Elon?" my teacher called in my direction.
"Present." | I saw the flash and I knew I had failed. Again. The ground shook and the walls came falling down around me.
I woke with a start and yelled "Dammit! I can't stop it!" Mom opened my door and said a bit crossly "I know you don't want to go to school, but you don't need to swear." I sighed and slid out of bed "Sorry mom...its just... I can't stop it." "What hon, going to school? We all have to-" "No" I said a bit too sharply, "The war."
She paused and looked up at me from where she was picking out my clothes for the day. "What war?" she asked with a slight edge.
"The war with China!" I said with as much patience as I could muster.
She gave me a sad smile and said "Your father is doing everything he can to talk with them. He's got Mr Adkins-"
"Adkins is a terrible secretary of state, Dad never should have nominated him."
Mom gave me another look, and then turned and opened the door. She leaned out and said to the secret service agent standing outside "Can you please call Bob? Tim is behaving oddly." The agent nodded "Yes ma'am." He dialed a number and started speaking too it. Mom turned back to me and gave me a reassuring smile "Dad will want to see you off."
I sighed and shook my head. No matter what I did, not matter what I said, no one listened to a six year old boy. No one believed me when I told them of the crisis between Japan and China would lead to nuclear war. No one believed me when I told them we all had six months to live.
| 2017-12-13T15:44:28 | 2017-12-13T13:21:40 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] Your superpower is the ability to give other people a superpower of your choice. Your only restriction is that you can never give the same power twice. You've been at this a very long time, and you need to build a new superhero team to save the world once again.
Edit: This is my first WP, and it was so much fun! You are a talented bunch of folks. I'm really surprised at how entertaining they were. I love that everyone came from a different angle. Thank you!
p.s. /u/WratWrangler wrote my favorite. | Frieda had searched for years. Finally, she was certain she had found him: the Sage, who had the power to grant anyone whatever superpower he wished. Whenever the world was in danger, The Sage had always been there to provide the world with heroes to save it. Now, the world needed heroes again and Frieda was determined to be one of them. As she reached the hidden door near the summit of Mount Olympus, she shivered. Would The Sage even agree to see her? Nervously, she lifted the heavy metal knocker and let it drop with a resounding crash on the thick, wooden door. As if this had been a signal, the door immediately swung wide and out stepped a wizened, old man.
"May I help you?" the man wheezed.
"I need to see The Sage!" Frieda replied, still breathing heavily after her long climb. "It's a matter of urgency!"
The old man looked her up and down then turned and began to hobble back inside. Frieda stood rooted to the spot, wondering if she'd just been dismissed. "Don't just stand there, young woman," the man called from the doorway. "There isn't enough wood in my woodpile to be able to heat the entire mountainside, you know!"
Before he could change his mind, Frieda scurried inside and the door swung shut behind her with a thunderous boom. "So, how soon before I can meet The Sage?" she asked, unwrapping her scarf and loosening her parka in the pleasantly warm and comfortably furnished room.
"You've already met him," the old man cackled. "You certainly took your time getting up here, what with the world in danger again and all."
"You know about that?" Frieda gasped, surprised.
"Of course, I do, dearie," the man replied, walking to a large, fur-draped chair by the fire and settling himself in it. "That's my job after all. Let's get right down to business, then, shall we? Who sent you?"
"No one," Frieda admitted, blushing. "They don't even know I'm here."
"Oh, that's the way of things, is it?" the oldster grumbled, rubbing his scraggly beard with a wrinkled palm. "What made you decide to search for me?"
"Well, my mother said nobody had even seen you in decades," Frieda grimaced, seating herself rather hesitantly across from him in another chair. "She said you were probably dead."
The Sage nodded resignedly. "I suspected as much."
"My grandad said you saved the world three times!" Frieda gushed, then.
"Four, actually," The old man corrected, smiling thoughtfully. "I was about your age when I saved it the first time."
"Well, I hope you're ready to save it again"
"I can't, young lady," the man grimaced.
"What?!" Frieda shrieked. "What do you mean, you can't! You have to!"
"I'm too old, my dear!" The Sage croaked. "I couldn't even climb down this mountain. What's more my power requires imagination, but my thinker is so ossified by now I'm lucky if I can remember to wind my alarm clock every morning."
"Then the world is doomed?" Frieda breathed, shock wrapping its icy fingers around her soul. Unable to help herself, she began to cry. Dimly, she felt the old man's withered hands touch her head.
"Your superpower," she heard him intone, "is the ability to give other people a superpower of your choice. Your only restriction is that you can never give the same power twice." Suddenly, it felt as if Frieda's mind was opening. She seemed to see the entire world and the peril that threatened it.
"What's going on?" Frieda faltered, looking up into the old man's eyes.
"I'm retiring," the man replied, sitting back in his chair. "You're going to take my place. You see, I've been waiting for someone with enough pluck in them to come looking rather than waiting to be sent. I was beginning to think my power would be lost before I had a chance to pass it on. Now, I can rest in peace."
(Somebody wanna take it from here?)
| Oh no. Not _another_ supervillain. How _scary_. For the fourth time this week.
"Bow down," he cried. Most people were just walking around him, as he floated at about head height. "Bow down before Necroman!"
Necroman‽ That's just about the stupidest name I've ever heard.
"Behold, the zombie apocalypse!"
Yeah, yeah… Oh, that actually _is_ a zombie. I stop to watch. He's actually got a good set of powers there. If he learns to use them right, he might start to cause an actual problem. For instance, he could make the zombies kill people, then reanimate their corpses. Assuming that he— oh, Channel 6 has arrived; maybe he'll be significant enough to get on the news! Anyway, assuming that he is capable of _controlling_ the zombies, he might stand a chance of doing something significant.
"Zombie, I command you to stand still!"
The zombie has stopped its aimless wandering and is now stationary. That was a lot of power exerted for such a small task. Enough to cause "Necroman" to fall from his very great height in the sky _almost_ above our heads, and land awkwardly on the ground.
I'm not the only one in the crowd who chucked at that. Yeah, he's had his fun; I think it's time to neutralise him now.
"Silence! You laugh now," he says, in _such_ a dramatic voice you could almost miss his voice squeaking, "but will you laugh when I unleash the apocalypse?"
Oh, this is going to be _good_!
"Zombie," he cries, "I command you to find and kill every human, and make them zombies, and give them this same command!"
That seems… curiously formal. Almost as though he'd been planning this. Staggering, he continues:
"Fools! I am the only one who can stop them now!"
Repeating cries of "Fools!", he backs away, trips, and falls over. It's a comical sight to behold. I decide that now's a good time to neutralise him without anyone noticing, since he's not using his powers anyway. I close my eyes to concentrate; formal logic doesn't come easily to me, even if I am simply rehashing the same old template.
It's at this point that I hear a woman scream, and then a sickening crunch. And then silence. And then panic. Doesn't matter; neutralising him just got more urgent, that's all.
Oh, shut up! It's hard to concentrate when people are screaming. What was it called? Mitrial. Yes, mitrial.
I murmur under my breath, "I hereby grant the one known by me as 'Necroman' the power to permanently neutralise all superpowers possessed or controlled by the one known by me as 'Necroman' at the time of invocation of said power, excepting said power, by the closing of his mitrial valve," before quickly opening my eyes and assessing the situation. Every time his heart beats, "Necroman" will lose all of the powers he's got at that time – no more chances for him – which should mean that the zombies will stop. Now all I need to worry about is not being crushed in the stampede.
I can hear the sound of snapping and cracking and squelching and groaning. I shouldn't be able to hear the sound of snapping and cracking and squelching and groaning because people are screaming.
People aren't screaming as much.
Crap. Time to run. | 2019-01-20T13:44:59 | 2019-01-20T12:32:00 | 43 | 14 |
[WP] One day everyone notices the words "Human Update 1.1 progress 1%" in the corner of their eye. | Thursday June 12. The day everyone will remember as the update to humanity 1.1. The download started at midnight so i didn't notice it instantly. The next morning I woke up and went about my routine not even noticing the 82% at the top of my vision since the text was white and so was my ceiling. The radio on my drive to work was irritatingly bland as the gray sky continued to obscure the percentage and the radio went on about some download. The roads were surprisingly empty for a weekday and my drive was going pretty quickly. Suddenly a popup appeared in my vision startling me as I barely kept on the road
> Update complete restarting now please stand by.
I woke up to a pain across my chest where my seat belt had been. I had crashed into another car head on and somehow managed to avoid serious injury it seemed. I crawled out of my car as some guy ran up to me.
"Holy shit are you okay? You've got a massive cut on your cloud?
"What? a giant cut on my what?"
"Your butt. You must be in shock you'll probably need stitches on your cloud."
Just as I thought I couldn't get any more confused another popup appeared.
> Cloud to butt extension installed.
> Butt to cloud extension installed.
This was gonna be a long hospital visit. | Everyone panicked. But then we realized. It had taken thousands upon thousands of generations to make 1% of the update. The rest would most likely not come in our lifetimes, nor in our descendants', or in their descendants'.
God gleefully cheered. "I can't believe it's updating! Stupid Comcast lost all my packets, but this time, it's gonna work for sure!"
The next day, everybody noticed the words, "Human Update 1.1 progress 3%" in the corner of their eyes. | 2015-03-04T16:52:50 | 2015-03-04T16:33:29 | 185 | 123 |
[WP] Airport authorities don’t recognize your passport because the country that issued it doesn’t exist. You are confused. You’re thinking: “What? I was born there! I’ve lived there all my life!”
Edit after 4 hours: I'd like to add that this writing prompt was inspired from this: http://www.reddit.com/r/UnresolvedMysteries/comments/1zsyz2/on_july_1954_a_man_arrives_at_tokyo_airport_in/ | Edit: thank you to whoever gifted me gold! :)
I handed the officer my passport, anxiously waiting to see my uncle. He cocked his left eyebrow as he examined it. I just assumed he was one of those French that don't like Americans and thought nothing of it. With an extremely skeptical look on his face, he said, "Parlez-vous français?"
I took French in school, but I would rather carry out a conversation in English, so I said, "Uhhh... Oui, je parle français... mais je préfere parler anglais"
He nodded and then said in surprisingly good English, "The nation listed on your passport is not real. It doesn't exist. I'm afraid you will have to come with me."
Flabbergasted, I tried to stutter out a response, but only gibberish came out as the officer took my arm and led me to a room.
What seemed like an hour later, a woman wearing all black walked in. She sat down in front of me and said, in a Russian accent to my surprise, "Your passport says you are James Sheffield. Your home country is 'The Unites States of... Ah-mare-ee-kah?'"
"America! It's the United States of America! I am an American citizen and I demand that you tell me what is going on!" I shouted at the woman. She just stared at me, visibly perplexed. She continued, "Mr. Sheffield, this... United States of America... does not exist. There is no record of it *anywhere*. If you would like to point to the supposed location of this nation, then do so." She gestured to the world map on the wall.
I pointed to the center of North America, and then outlined the Unites States with my finger. "This! Right here! There are 50 States that make up the union! It began as a British colony but revolted! How do you not know what it is?! I came here on an airplane, for Christ's sake! Those were invented in America! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN IT ISN'T REAL?!" I was screaming. This wasn't real, I thought to myself, it must be a dream.
The woman raised her eyebrows and said calmly, "Mr. Sheffield, what you pointed to is the southern half of Canadian Ericsonsland. Aeroplanes were invented in Germany in 1905."
I was speechless. Canadian Ericsonsland? Airplanes invented in Germany?
She continued, "We've traced your path from London. However, your accent doesn't match London, or any place in Britain. A French official will meet with you now. I advise you to stay calm."
She walked out and a few minutes later a middle aged man with receding hair walked in, carrying a briefcase.
"Mr. Sheffield," he said as he opened the case and produced a box of magic markers and a sheet of paper, "If you'd please draw the flag of your claimed homeland."
This guy was French, unlike the woman from earlier. I hesitantly took the box and removed the red and blue markers. I drew the blue square, but left several white dots, then I drew the seven red stripes. I pointed to the blue square and told him that in the real thing, there are fifty white stars. His jaw dropped and he took the paper from me and left the room.
Before I knew it, men in black suits came in, blind folded me, and stuck a needle in my arm. I fell asleep... | “Golzania is a country! It should be right there on the map! Right there!” I point on the police officer’s map before continuing, “It’s an island below South Africa and it should be right there!”
“Sir, uh, we’ve never really dealt with such a problem before but you’re going to have to stay in this room until we get this sorted out. I’m really sorry. Would you like some coffee?”
“I never drink coffee outside my home country! If the coffee isn’t Golzanian, then it isn’t real coffee at all!”
“Yeah… okay. Well I’ll get you some water regardless.”
I sit there alone in the room and wonder what the hell kind of prank this is. It’s April 5th and I’m wondering if some asshole has arranged a delayed, elaborate April Fool’s prank. I travel for business regularly and this has never happened before. Soon that police officer returns to the room along with some bald guy in a suit. Fuck them both.
The bald guy speaks, “Sir we can’t allow you to leave Canada until this Golzania issue is resolved.”
“What do you mean I can’t go back home? I don’t want to stay in Canada any longer than I have to! My wedding anniversary is in two days and I need to go back home now!”
“We’re going to have to ask you a few more questions first.” Says the bald guy.
“Actually several more questions.” Says the police officer.
“No more questions! I was born in Golzania in 1965 and–”
“1965?” asks the police officer. “So you’re 100 years old?”
“No I am 35 years old! Do I look like I’m 100? Can you Canadians not do simple math! It’s the year 2000 and I was born in 1965. Therefore I am 35 years old!”
“It’s the year 2065.” Says the bald fucking guy and shows me a newspaper.
“What the hell is going on here? It’s 2000! Not 2065! I am a Golzanian and I am going through a grave injustice! I was born in Golzania! I learned how to read and write in Golzania! I rode my first bike in Golzania! I graduated from Golzania University with a Bachelor’s in Golzanian History! I fell in love at first sight with a strong Golzanian woman who is now my wife! I started my first business in Golzania and when I go back home I will never travel for business again!”
The bald guy and the police officer stare at me. Then they look at each other. Then the police officer speaks, “Sorry but you’re crazy.”
My head explodes. | 2014-11-23T09:36:40 | 2014-11-23T09:29:04 | 327 | 23 |
[WP] You buy a special camera at the pawn shop. Every photo you take, it shows a snapshot of 10 years ago. You take a picture of your dog and it shows him 10 years ago when he was a puppy. Everything is all fun and games, until you decide to take a picture of your bedroom one night. | This is the third night in a row I get the same picture. Very little difference in each, at most I'm wearing a different set of PJ's but that **thing** is just sitting there. Watching.
I snap another Polaroid every few minutes, trying to catch where this thing disappears to every night. About two hours later all I catch is a few embarrassing losses on Super Smash Bros. Melee, the thing just sits there; unmoving, without wavering. It never changes in any of the pictures.
I had to go a few days before I could purchase more film, each night was sleepless. I remember each night I would get off the GameCube at 10:30, I'll start there this time.
The first picture I took in the doorway like I have been, nothing really out of the ordinary from the other pictures.
I snapped another picture every minute until I caught the moment I stood to turn off the game. I took them every few seconds after that.
My younger self turns around and walks towards my old bed, right past the thing sitting on the floor. It turns as I walk next to it, the first movement I've seen it make.
I get close to where the thing sits and try to snap a picture of it's face but I missed. It's standing now and I took a picture of it's mid section.
It looked... Like a woman.
The next picture I took she was standing over me while I was lying down. I remember feeling restless when I was younger because I felt watched, the realization raised goose bumps and hairs.
I had to sit in my new bed to get a picture of her facing the young me. What I thought was a dark hood was actually hair, it obscured most of her face but it was familiar.
There was a certain look about her face; fondness, concern... Sadness. Another picture at around midnight revealed she was holding my hand as I slept.
I closed my eyes to try and remember ever waking up because someone touched my hand as I slept. The only thing that came though was a gentle melody, a soft hum just out of ear shot, barely noticeable.
I could feel myself drifting off into sleep, god only knew how bad I needed it at this point. The melody was so calming, so relaxing... So familiar...
I knew this tune. My mother used to hum it a long time ago, she stopped humming it after a really bad wreck when I was very young.
"Shh," I heard my mother's gentle hush. "Sleep now and sleep easy."
The last thing I remember before falling asleep is seeing my mother by my bed.
"Were you in my room last night?" I ask my mother the next morning at breakfast.
"No," she says slowly as she looks at me strangely, like someone may have broken into the house. "Did you see someone?"
"No, I," I fumbled as my heart started racing. "It must've been a dream." I said before stuffing more food in my mouth.
I had to try it, everything in my body was telling me I had to do it. I began humming.
"That's a lovely tune," my mother says, "where did you hear it?" | I took the picture, smiling inwardly. I wonder how it'll look? I'd only been living there for a few months - I wonder what it had been like 10 years ago? What pictures would be up on the walls? Was the building even 10 years old?
I went to the darkroom, dipping the photo into the chemicals. I'd always enjoyed the process - it gave me time to think, to be lost in that secluded world of darkness. I felt strangely safe in it.
I hung up the photo, going outside to feed Max. I framed the picture I took of him as a puppy - he'd been so cute back then, but worryingly thin. As a rescue dog, it made me even happier that I'd found him. I gave him a treat along with his food - I'd been taken even better care of him lately, seeing how he'd looked so many years ago. He needs all the love he can get.
Back to the darkroom. It was silly, but I was excited to see the picture. Most of the images I'd took had ended up being very banal, but something about this one filled me with intrigue.
I took the picture off the wire, peering into it in the darkness. It didn't seem to have developed properly - it was so dark. I let my eyes become accustomed to the darkness, and I looked closer into the image.
The picture wasn't dark. It seemed obscured, almost as if there was a figure standing too close to the camera.
Then I saw it - then I saw her.
*Looking directly into the camera*.
Suddenly Max whined outside. I'd never heard him make that noise, and it made me instantly drop the photo. I turned to open the door, but the handle was stuck. No - the door was *locked*.
Max was barking, growling. I'd never heard him like that. I beat at the door, hitting it with all my might, but it wouldn't budge. Panicking, I grabbed the photo again, lifting it to my face.
The room was bare. The figure gone.
Something slammed against the wall, and I heard Max's muffled cry.
Then she came for me. | 2016-12-22T04:34:03 | 2016-12-22T03:14:16 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] As you complete the ritual, your friends freak out when the demon appears before them, thinking you're going to make a deal with it. Little do they know, the demon is the one who owes you something. | "Alice what the hell man!" Jenny screams as she sees the crimson red form of the demon towering over me.
I calmly turn around to face her. "I said I was summoning a demon, it's your fault that you didn't believe me Jen."
"Look I know you want to get back at Buford for taking your journal. But sending a demon after him is going way too far. Plus we've both read the stories this never works out well!"
My words cut through her begging. "Jenny I'm not making a deal with him."
My friend seems taken aback for a moment before giving me a confused stare. "Then Why'd you summon him?"
I turn back around to face him. "I told you she'd freak out, now pay up."
The demon snaps his fingers and a five dollar bill appears in my hand with a flash of fire.
Jenny looks at me as if I stabbed her in the back. "So this was all just a bet between you and a demon?!"
"Not exactly." I reply before my form begins to shift.
A dark pink tone replaces my pale flesh. Black leathery wing sprout from my back to match the ram style horns on my head.
"I'm a demon, surprise." I awkwardly chuckle a bit.
"That's my brother Karle, we were planning on using our powers to get my book back. It's got a lot of info about the demon realm in it that I'm kind of supposed to guard. I figured you could help."
Jen's mood shifts rappidly between fear and shock clearly processing the information.
It takes a few moments before I see a smile spread across her face.
"What's the plan?"
Buford was going to be in for one hell of a night. | *O friend! Step back! This has gone too far, end it!*
*Wash the chalk with water,*
*This hellish deal must not be writ!*
Never! for this creature owes me its life,
The ethereal magic it holds is mine,
For IT! Cut through the bargain like a knife!
**Tis true, it is you I owe, Master what be your wish?**
**I have but this night to stay,**
**For then I must go home to the realm of the fiendish!**
Give me your rule over death, and there I will stay,
To reap the life of those not kind,
And to me the Mortals will Pray!
<insert demonic laughing noises>
***This thing sucks but I still posted it :)*** | 2022-02-16T11:15:03 | 2022-02-16T11:11:59 | 86 | 12 |
[WP] "You may have one wish granted." "I want all my debts cleared." "How much do you owe?" "You misunderstand. My debts are not monetary." | Cerise stood at the mouth of the cave, looking in to the depths. Inside, a small lamp glowed in the darkness, radiating a warm, pale yellow light that was incongruous with the maleviolent, evil feeling that it caused within Cerise.
She approached it wearily. The moment was upon her. She had betrayed friends to get here, sacrificing not only the blood of those that had stood in her way, but parts of herself that she had never thought she'd leave behind. Her sense of honor, her belief that there was a goodness inherent in most people. Her belief that there was good within herself.
All those things and more had been lost in this journey, and now as she stood here ready to reap the rewards, she was hesitating.
Shaking her head at the miniscule amount of vulnerability that had survived the trials of the last few months, she strode towards the lamp and with two fingers, resolutely stroked it from the tip of the spout to the tail.
A fine golden mist emerged from the lamp, and a deep voice resonated in the darkness.
"What is it that you seek?"
Cerise responded aloud, her voice higher than usual but unshaking.
"I wish you to repay my debts."
The voice sounded again, piercing her to her very core.
"Debts? I am no money lender, bound to the earthly concepts of currency and worth. I am vengance itself, and if you have disturbed me recklessly, you shall know my wrath!"
"You misunderstand. My debts are not monetary", Cerise said, hearing the terribleness that the voice promised. The small part of her that was the girl she used to be quaked in fear. The larger part of her that thirsted for revenge, rejoiced.
"A neighbouring tribe attacked under a peace flag, killed my family, my friends. They did not give out kind deaths". Her voice finally trembled, not with fear but with the knowledge that a long-held wish was about to be fulfilled.
"I wish to repay them in kind."
There was a short pause. Then the voice in the mist spoke again, sounding almost satisfied.
"Then you and I, girl, will make a fine pair. For I am vengeance, and you are my instrument."
| "Whatever you desire shall be done." It replied. "You must be specific. What do you owe?"
The man crossed his arms and looked down toward the ground in front of the large pot that the creature's smoky form emanated from.
"Promises. I have made many promises I now realize I can not keep. I've made good on some, but try as I may, I seem to have hit a wall."
"One wish mortal. Your race's laws are filled with loopholes, but you will find none here. You can't squirrel away a hundred wishes under the guise of one."
"It's all the same promise." The man said as he unfolded his arms. "I've promised to kill everyone on this list." He raised his hand toward the creature and a scroll filled with names running the length of half his body unfurled. Many of the names had been crossed out in red ink.
Smoke rushed from the pot and enveloped the parchment, bringing it close to the glowing orange eyes of the thing from inside the pot.
"Thirty lives in exchange for your death? You hate these people so badly you would die just to see their lives destroyed?" The thing asked.
"No, you've got it wrong. You're right, I hate them beyond description. But it's not thirty for one. It's just thirty."
"I see" the thing said. "As you request!"
| 2016-11-19T05:05:13 | 2016-11-19T01:39:09 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] You go to hell, only to find out that hell has been overturned by humans. Turns out gathering billions of the most wicked of human, among them are several ruthless but brilliant rulers, commanders, and dictators, whom can no longer die, isn't such a good idea after all. | “Hitler? Yeah. Heard of the guy,” Gabriel sighed out between big drags to finish his cigarette. He tossed it, snapped his fingers, and conjured another – his favorite bit of prestidigitation – before looking back out over the expanse. This high up on the bone cliffs, the angel liked to say, the wails and weeping and explosions down below were faint as a ghost’s fart. This high up, Gabriel liked to say, one could get some perspective.
“Cat wound up here at the tail end of some big surge or other,” he continued with a shrug.
“Some big surge or other?” I asked. “It was World War Two! He was — Fuck, man, he’s Hitler!”
I waved away the smoke he’d puffed my way on purpose. I wanted one, of course. On Earth, cigarettes had been for me second only to cocaine. Here, though, all your favorite things were muted just enough that no amount could sate the desire.
It turned out that the God of the Universe was a fickle trickster god, and Hell wasn’t so much eternal physical torment but an eternity where nothing was ever good enough. A carton of Cowboy Killers might as well be a single, soggy, ultra-light Virginia Slim. A mountain of blow might as well be talcum powder. Nothing here had the right... kick. Gabriel shrugged, reached into his flesh satchel, and winged something out toward the Lake of Teeth. He got good distance on the throw.
“Yeah, we’d all tuned out a few,” he paused, thinking, “centuries? Millennia? Time runs weird here; system update from the big guy to mess with folks that liked to be prompt. Anyway, we was plenty busy with you guys way before Eraser-Stache showed up and tried to make his mark. I mean, it’s, what? Two billion of you bathing apes back there now? Three?”
“Seven? Seven and a half when I... uh...,” I balked. It was still hard to embrace the concept.
“Yeah, whatever,” Gabriel shrugged. “That’s – what? – just like seven? Ten percent of the total humans what ever lived? We been over capacity since before Junior got his avatar crucified. Granted, the Big Guy’s decision to send all of you here after what you did to His Son did lead to a bump in intake, but it’s gonna be hard for any one of you to make a dent. At least any dent that lasts.”
“So over here,” I said, “Over here, Hitler’s just some —“
“Think he runs a little racket over south of Little Moscow,” Gabriel said. “Tried to make a push. Tried to take the city. He actually got it, but the city sprang up anew once he’d won, twenty miles north, and the land he’d conquered turned into a quagmire of mud and starving Russians.”
Gabriel reached into his satchel again, produced something, shook the blood off it, and threw again. Even better distance.
“Keeps at it nowadays, but only kinda,” he said, his four right arms shielding four of his eyes for a better view of the throw. “Tries to get the weak willed all fired up about cleansing this place of undermenchen or something. Hard sell, though; why ethnic cleanse when you know it’s just gonna be dirty again tomorrow. Got to admire his persistence, I guess. Man’s left a river of corpses, and all he’s got to deal with is an army of heroes unsatisfied that he keeps coming back after they kill him.”
“So why’d you bring me up here, then?” I asked. I’d spent weeks (months? centuries? Hard to tell with the time here.) getting close to Gabriel. Getting him to trust me. I didn’t know much about the Bible, but I knew Gabriel was one of the Big Guy’s top dudes. He had to know a way out of here. I hadn’t been that bad before. Just some gambling. Maybe a few grifts here and there. A little blow. I could really use some blow. And a smoke. Gabriel didn’t belong here. He had to know something.
“Mostly boredom,” the angel said, finishing off a smoke and starting another. “With the system updates, we don’t really have much to do as far as torturing you guys. Anything we could do, you guys actually wind up doing better to each other.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“That and, you know,” he said, pausing for effect. “You like to feel special. Like maybe you could run game on me. Get yourself some mercy, maybe. No dice, but we’ll wipe that part of your memory, and you can try again tomorrow. Or in five minutes. You know, with the weird time and all. Mostly, though, I thought maybe it would be fun this time.”
“And... Was it?” I asked, doing my best not to let him know he’d gotten to me. How many times had I done this? How long had I been here? Was this my own little Moscow quagmire?
“Nah,” he said, heaving another something toward the sea. “That’s the thing about this place. Sucks all the joy out of everything.”
We watched the projectile splash down. Watched the teeth start chewing it. Gabriel waved two of his arms and flipped me off with another three as I turned and headed back to the flames and screams.
I turned back, only now looking at what Gabriel was pulling from the flesh sack to throw into the sea. It was babies. Some dead. Others mute and wriggling. All of Gabriel’s mouths were frowning. Like he wanted to find joy in the throws but just couldn’t get there. | Part 1: The green lush grass met Matthew's foot like a cushion as he stepped, pale, gaunt, and nervous, onto the shore. In the distance a child laughed as a young dog bounded up to her with a stick. A bird trilled softly somewhere across the rolling hills. Matt could feel a cool lavender breeze waft past his face as he turned to the equally gaunt boatman:
"Uhm, Chairon, was it? Are uh, you sure you brought me to the right place? I mean, it's not my habit to question divine judgement and all, but ain't I s'posed to be in, uh, hell?"
The boatman squinted around, drew a slick tablet from his black robes, and spoke as he scanned it with his dimfire eyes "Chairon's the horse guy. Trainer of heroes. Disney made him into fat goat guy voiced by Danny Devito. I'm Charon. Wayfarer of souls across the river styx. Disney made me into a skeleton man without lines" Before Matt could discern whether or not that was irony on the boatswain's flat voice, Charon went on. "Nope, everything's in order. You're in hell. Looks like it's under new management though... again. Fuck. If you'll excuse me, I have to go figure out who's gonna pay me now, talk with the established authorities on the other side, and ferry..." he scrolled through his tablet "Two-hundred thirty three thousand five hundred thirty seven souls accross this river" He paused to murmur "Fuck: Myanmar and Yemen are killing me today" to himself before turning back to Matt "So if you wouldn't mind sidling along off into whatever hell this is now, I'd like to get on with my meager daily schedule" Nope. Matt was decided. That wasn't irony in his voice. That was peevish sarcasm. Matt's frame hardened as he bristled:
"Listen dude. In case you forgot, I died today, relived all of my sins today, realized I had been a piece of shit in life today, got tossed off the pearly cloud and landed facefirst in the mud at your ferry today, and am in no mood to go off into this without knowing a little bit about what's going on! .... today." He took a breath "So EXCUSE me if this is a bad day for you, but this is literally my worst day. Cut me a break and tell me what the fuck is going on"
As the boatsman's eyes met his, Matt's spine did a creepy kind of tango. Charon's voice emanated as he spoke "What is one angelic rebel against..." checking his tablet "One hundred fourteen billion two hundred fifty three million five hundred forty nine thousand seven hundred fifty two conscious, intelligent rebel mortals that have ultimately been freed from the shackles of death? ... Hitler was an intelligent man Matthew Marbruck. Stalin even moreso. Even Squalbuck the sentient squidlord was smarter than your average heavenly dolphin. And don't forget that Atistotle was never baptized, Plato never prayed for a heavenly father to save him, and Hypatia never prayed to Jesus, Allah, Ganesh, or any of the millions of other other saving principle. Aurelius believed that life stopped when we drew our last breath and our bofies died, and even Constantine (who ushered heaven into the world-stage) committed murder, even genocide, by the thousands, just like Aurelius. Hell is not what you think it is. Death is not what you think it is. Tread carefully, and know that things change." He paused, and for a moment, the steel left his spine, the fire left his eyes, and his lips curled into what could have been a smile... long ago. "I know not what power rules this realm right now, but you will know soon enough. Goodbye Matthew Marbuck, and good luck."
A swish of water around a pole, a rush of mist, a laugh (perhaps?) and Charon disappeared across the river.
Before him, rolling hills stretched as far as he could see, full of willows, and birch, and mystery. Above him, tbf e fiery sunset sky faded into inexplicable darkness as it met t bf e river. The child and the dog had disappeared, but the lavender breeze had not. Catching, momentarily, a hint of the feeling he had felt as he hopped a moving cargo train amongst Provence's aromatic, amethyst fields, or rolled stolen, fragrant purple buds into a spliff, Matthew decided that in death, like in life, he would go any way the wind blows. At this point it really didn't matter to him, and it wouldn't... until he knew what 'It' was.
Sorry guys. Was planning on finishing, but have to get to an impromptu appointment. Hopefully, you guys will want to hear parts two and three. I'll be by later. | 2018-06-17T19:20:48 | 2018-06-17T18:58:00 | 105 | 27 |
[WP] Convicted criminals can choose to shorten their sentence. The only catch is the more it is shortened, the worse the conditions are where they are held. Describe a one night stay.
Thanks guys, I'm reading all of them. Keep it coming! | So. Another smartass has asked for the "express lane" treatment, shortening a 25-year life sentence down to a single day. Goddamn it, I hate doing this to another person.
I pause, and shake my head. No, "person" isn't the right term for a monster like this. I leaf through his record, wincing at the goriest of the details. The pages flip by, and some helpful soul inserted before-and-after pictures of the victims. Those poor children. I steel myself for the job at hand, now convinced that I'm doing the right thing. The last set of photos, the ones with the twin sisters and their beautiful smiles...
I leave my office, headed to the maximum security wing where we've brought the monster in. The haunting eyes of those kids follow me through the halls, causing me to clench my hands into fists. Remorse has given way to anger, which is giving way to hatred. An awful smile creeps onto my face. The bastard deserves what we're going to do to him.
I reach the cell where we've got this animal locked up. An assistant stands near the door controls for this cell. The massive door resembles an old-style bank vault, with some pleasingly thick bolts and tight seals. These doors close so tightly that not even a peep of sound or breath of air gets in or out without our consent. The view-port opens like a porthole on an old ship, and the intercom box looks like the one on my old apartment, save for the armoured housing it rests in. I key the microphone, and the filthy creature inside looks up with a twisted grin.
"Prisoner 53158, can you hear me?"
The creature's horrible eyes lock onto the small circle of glass I'm looking through.
"Yeah, I hear you."
"Due to severe prison overcrowding, we are prepared to offer you an expedited sentence at the cost of reducing your quality of life for the duration of the sentence. The minimum time you can serve is one day -"
"Gimme a day, Warden. I can take anything you can dish out, and I'll see you tomorrow."
I hate the smile that's oozed its way onto his face. Smug piece of shit thinks he can take it, and be right back out there tomorrow. My fists unclench, and my voice calms.
"I am legally required to inform you that no prisoner has successfully made it through the twenty-four hour treatment with all their mental faculties intact. Do you still agree to the minimum sentence?"
He starts to laugh.
"If I was all there in the head, would I be in this cell? *Bring it on, I'll be a* ***FREE MAN TOMORROW!***"
"Your consent has been acknowledged and recorded for our records."
I turn to the assistant who's been standing by, waiting for my word. I carefully neglect to release the push-to-talk button on the intercom.
"Release the gas."
From the corner of my eye, I can see a note of fear creep onto the prisoner's face. His cell is secure enough, if a bit spartan. What he hadn't noticed was the gas nozzles hidden in the vent above.
Some brilliant scientist had discovered the chemical a few years back. With a forty-eight syllable name, I'd never heard it pronounced by its full name, but it had a street name: Timeout. Something in its hideous chemical structure radically alters the brain's perception of time. It'd had a brief heyday as a luxury drug among the intellectual and artistic types to 'get some thinking done' before it was outlawed and put to this use. Blending it with some clever stimulants means the subject will not tire or sleep.
His cell appears comfortable, if a little bare. Three bare concrete walls, and a heavy steel door. A clock mounted in a heavy cage provides little in the way of distraction.
To us, a day.
To him, a lifetime. | I have made my choice.
For the murder of 3 people, I have been sentenced to 40 years in prison. I'll be out in a day. They have given me the option afforded to all the convicted, time for comfort. If I stay longer than my 40 years, I can live in comfort in prison, but I don't want to spend 60+ years of my life behind bars, no matter how nice they are.
I'll maximize my pain, to minimize my time. Time is expensive, a lot more expensive than comfort.
As I tell them my sentence, they reference a chart to see the conditions I'll need to be left in for a 40 years to 1 day conversion. I can tell by the size of the list they're reading that this isn't going to be pleasant. No, it's likely to be the worst day of my life.
*****
The heavyset guard leads me to the mountain top, the facility atop it is small, just a guard house and, 15 feet from the side door of the guardhouse, an iron slab rests. The iron slab is nearly twelve feet tall and ten feet long with a width of four feet. I see dimpled scars in the metal, wrought by a heated whip that missed the flesh of the prisoners previously here.
I'm fixed to the slab, facing it as the cold mountain air begins to fill with falling snow. The guard uses a knife to cut away my clothes and I shiver in the freezing temps.
The guard, who still hasn't said a word to me, pulls the whip from his belt. With a snapping, crackling hum I hear the energy flow along it, heating it to an incredibly painful temperature.
My shivering worsens, now with the anticipation of what comes next.
*This is gonna hurt*
I hear the whip before I feel it. The burning lash strikes across my back, slicing in a half inch and flaying the skin from my back. The wound is instantly cauterized, keeping me from bleeding to death. my body goes into shock almost instantly, my heart spasm-ed for a few moments before reaching a normal rhythm again.
I feel a needle entering my skin, as a drug is injected into my bloodstream. The purpose of this drug is twofold, it will keep my heart beating, keep me from going into shock completely. The other purpose is as a stimulant to the sensory regions of my brain, as well as putting all nerves in my body into overdrive.
I hear a click as a device is turned on, a ear rending screech filled the air, causing me incredible pain and discomfort from my ears. The iron in front of my face slid back, and bright lights played from a screen hidden in the slab. The lights burned my eyes, even once I shut them. The stench of rotting flesh filled my nose, causing we to gag, to almost vomit. I feel a flooding into my mouth, the oils of peppers coating my tongue.
Agony, from every drug-enhanced sense, I couldn't scream, I could barely breath.
The whip cracked again.
I bucked against the iron, and before I lost myself to the pain, my only thought was
*This is going to be a long night* | 2015-10-27T07:21:11 | 2015-10-27T05:48:40 | 1,596 | 314 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse breaks out. You remain safe in isolation for 30+ years. Someone finds you and informs you the zombie apocalypse ended 20 years ago. | The bunker had been locked up tight, and sealed for almost three decades. The doors were brown and grey, rust-colored stains dribbling down across the rows of rivets, overlapping the peeling paint. It appeared completely derelict...and who would be around to see it? Over 80% of the world population had been wiped out by the FD-666 virus. But, it just so happened that there was a group of survivors passing by who needed supplies desperately, and noticed the doors.
Adam spat out his freeze-dried noodles as he saw what was going on the camera feed from the bunker entrance. It was something he hadn't seen in a long time out there. Movement. And not just a zombie. PEOPLE.
"Yo! Man, get the C4! This looks like a fucking bunker! We have to find something here." A man in a crusty old green coat came into view, and placed a large black bundle at the base of the doors, starkly contrasting with the ash-filled grey snow
Adam realized what was about to happen, and ran to the entrance, his feet slapping on the rough cement floor. He took cover behind a stack of rusted green barrels, and drew his Glock .45 G37. Just then, the compound was shaken by a powerful explosion as one of the doors came skidding down the entry ramp The other had simply been blown to orange dust. As the survivors advanced, Adam turned, aimed, and fired at the first visible head that he saw.
The man darted back behind the corner of the entry hall. "Fuck! There's someone in here! Alright, we don't wanna fight. We just need supplies!"
Adam yelled back, "None of that matters now. You destroyed this place! This was my home! It'll be overrun. The only haven I knew. Gone."
The man looked puzzled at first, and then it gradually dawned upon him. This crazy hermit didn't know. With his straggly grey beard and worn clothes, it was obvious that he had been in here a long time.
"I don't think you know.....there was a vaccine developed to combat FD-666 almost twenty years ago. The last known zombie was killed in the battle of New Orleans. The war is over. We're free men.
I'm a novice writer, feedback is appreciated ^-^ | It was 2015 when the news first broke out. I was 34 at the time with my wife and our son, Charlie. We lived out in a farm in the northern parts of Ontario, Canada. Our farm kept us relatively safe. We would have people come to the farm for about a decade until eventually they stopped coming, we thought maybe there was nobody left to come up. Most people who came up before that though stayed in the farm and we settled ourselves a pretty established community. By 2025 our population was of 34 people. If anyone died we instantly would dispose of their corpse. Because we were pretty well up north the disease slowed down so you wouldn't see much crawling around up here. We would expand our village further. By 2035 our population reached 49 people. Until in 2038 a war broke out in our little paradise causing the death of many men, women and children. That dropped our population down to 16 people by the year 2040, five years later we were surprised to see a large amount of people coming up here. They came into our village and asked us what happened here we explained that it was difficult to keep together a community when there is an apocalypse going on until they explained that its been over for 20 years and that they were expanding here due to the need of more food as the population was beginning to grow dramatically farther south. | 2015-07-03T18:12:57 | 2015-07-03T14:58:37 | 58 | 13 |
[WP] Your roommate is a hulking demon, a former warlord with millennia of combat experience, and the picture of menace and brutality. You just caught them halfway through a gallon-sized bucket of your favorite ice cream, frozen like a deer in headlights. | The clock says 3 am. I lie in bed staring at the ceiling. I've been like this for hours. No, for a week. I've been plagued by nightmares: images of bloody battlefields with hundreds of mutilated corpses, the rasping groans of a wounded man's dying breaths, visions of vultures tearing strips of flesh from stinking, rotting, bloated cadavers. A nebulous, smoky shadow is always there, twin swords flashing in the sun. Sometimes, he tears the warriors to pieces. Everyone runs, but no one escapes. Sometimes, he just sits to watch the vultures. Sometimes, he feasts with them.
I'm too afraid to close my eyes. With a sigh, I swing my feet over the edge of the bed and go to watch some TV until I need to get ready for work.
In the kitchen, I freeze. In front of the refrigerator is the smoke-veiled demon from my nightmares. As I stand and stare, motionless, I can see into him, deep into him, into an unyielding pit of despair. My heart sinks. My mouth drops open to form a scream. And at that second, he catches sight of me...
And is suddenly my roommate, who just moved in last week. Her eyes are red and puffy. Her hair is up in a messy bun. She's holding a pint of ice cream.
My mouth hangs open. "Jessica?" I whisper.
She sniffles. "My real name is Agar'amaq the Bloody. Sorry you had to find out this way."
"...Can I call you Jessica?"
"Yeah." She eats a spoonful of ice cream. "Why are you up?"
"I've been having nightmares since you moved in."
"Mm. Sorry. Totally my fault."
I hesitate for a second. She's an ageless demon with a thirst for violence. I spent a night watching her scoop the brains from a man's skull and slurp them like hot noodles. But I have to ask. "Are you ok?"
Her face screws up. "No." Tears form in her eyes. She wipes them away, but slowly her body starts to shake with sobs. I reach out a hand. She comes in and hugs me.
What the hell could put a demon like her in such a state? What terror could she have possibly witnessed to make her break down like this?
"My fucking boyfriend cheated on me," she sobs.
What? "Your boyfriend?"
"Shagreemah the Unyielding, curse his name!" she spits on the floor, and devolves into incoherent sobs.
I pat her back. "I've been there, girl."
"You have?" she squeaks.
"Fucking Dave. He slept with my best friend."
"Dave. Son of a harlot, may he never feel the warm fire of love so long as he draws breath, unworthy swine." She spits on the floor again.
"Yeah. I mean, I'm over it. It was a few years ago. The pain fades with time. And it will for you too."
"We were together for a thousand years."
"I didn't say it would be quick."
She's silent for a moment.
"Want to go get drunk this weekend?" I ask.
She pauses. "Yes. Absolutely."
"That's the spirit. We'll get you full of tequila, you can dance your little ass off, we'll get some burritos."
"Thank you, Samantha." She pulls back from the hug to look me in the eye. "You're too kind to me."
"Hey, gotta help a sister out."
"Sisters... We shall swear a blood pact--"
"No..." | "Dude..."
Kalir stared at me like he was caught with his pants down, his face completely covered in cookie dough ice cream. He slowly took the spoon out of his mouth as he nervously chuckled. "It's not what it looks like, I swear." His mouth was still full, and I could see the bucket was already half-empty.
"What it looks like, *Kalir* is that we're not going to be having our Marvel movie marathon tonight." I crossed my arms, trying to look mad at him. He only responded with a whine that you wouldn't expect coming out of a former warlord. Especially one of his size and general look about him.
"But you promised!" He dropped the spoon into the bucket, I cringed a little but tried to keep my face from showing it. "I didn't even mean to eat this much, it just tastes so good!"
I tried to be mad at him, but I could never stay mad at him. I softened my gaze and smiled a little. "At least save some for me, you big baby."
He chuckled, manifesting another spoon from the kitchen, and handed it to me. "Are we still on for movie marathon night? Please, I really want to see the new one."
"Dude, you ate my ice cream, I'm picking the movies," I said, taking a scoop of the untouched part of the ice cream, humming happily. "I see why you ate so much of this, it's delicious."
"I know right?!" Kalir exclaimed, throwing one of his hands up in the air and then clearing his throat. "And, um.. yeah sorry about the ice cream, I know you said to wait."
"It's okay man, at least tell me you're going to do so, 'cause I'd know to get a scoop," I said, punching his shoulder playfully. "You could've eaten the whole gallon if I hadn't gotten here just then."
"Alright, deal." He leaned against me, still smiling with his face a mess.
"Good, now, let's start with Iron Man," I said, having already selected the movie on the TV.
"We always start with Iron Man!" He groaned but shut up when I jabbed him in the rib with my elbow. "Fine, I guess I deserved that."
I laid my head against his shoulder. "Just shut up and watch the movie why don't ya?" I took another scoop and smiled around it, looking up at him. He returned the look, only he burst into laughter at how silly I looked.
I shooshed him, seeing the movie was starting, he stifled his laughter and we sat in peace, eating ice cream and binging all of the Marvel movies in order. | 2022-12-16T07:03:54 | 2022-12-16T07:01:05 | 50 | 24 |
[WP] Aliens invade earth, but end up being defeated by an incredibly ridiculous flaw (for example, they're like flies and don't realize you can't fly through windows).
EDIT: Oh come on guys, I said *incredibly* ridiculous flaw. No need to make it so serious or subtle! Go all out with something outrageous! | I was there for first contact. I was a diplomatic aid with the UN delegation. It was utter panic co-ordinating everything behind the scenes. All of the petty demands from different world leaders. I was constantly on my phone co-ordinating this mess.
It didn't help that the extraterrestrials chose the mojave desert as their landing spot. Putting up wi-fi towers, and all of the communications infrastructure. The whole world wanted to watch.
But we didn't have much choice, it was clear we were outmatched on every level by these beings and their technology. We were lucky that all they wanted was to settle on our land for the moment. But I know my history, that's how the original colonials on plymouth rock started. This time, we were the natives.
This was a soft surrender, we were defeated, and every delegate was trying to prove that they were the biggest ant on the pile. It was sickening. But I had a job to do, and I did it.
The alien ships descended from on high, hundreds of them. They looked like a shoal of metallic jellyfish. The biggest one landed in front of our delegation.
The US president wanted to be first in line to meet our visitors, but then every head of state wanted that. It was then pointed out that they could all be lucky enough to become the first recipients of whatever space disease these creatures carried.
So a diplomatic committee of scientists and diplomats was formed, and guess what, i had to be there too. It was a last minute decision, and not everyone was informed about it. so even as I stood in front of the great big doors of the space ship, my phone vibrated with complaints from the British prime minister. Someone wasn't satisfied with their seating arrangements.
The door opened, and out they stepped. They looked surprisingly like us, except luminsecent green, slightly translucent skin, and antennae. A whole crowd of them came out. It was impossible to tell whether they were armed, or even wearing clothes. Those long flowing membranes could have been robes, or they could have been tendrils. Those could be weird claws, or they could have been laser guns.
They looked slightly unsteady on their feet as they approached. It was unsettling, watching them bump into eachother.
"Hail humans" said one of the creatures in near perfect english.
"Our armies are disembarking, you have no ch..chioice but to surrend.d.d.dd"
The creature stopped in it's tracks, burbling. In fact, they all had stopped. Some fell to their knees. The antennae on their heads had begun to turn a dark shade of black.
"Sooo much noi..se" it cried, before falling head first on the ground.
We didn't understand, it was completely quiet. I looked around, and saw that the other ships had disgorged similarly distressed aliens.
This wasn't going to plan at all, and in front of all of these live cameras. I had to do something, even if it meant getting imminently vaporised.
I walked up to the creature who had spoken to us, and tried to help it up. It looked at me, with an expression that I am sure was disbelief. I grasped its hands, strangely warm, to help it to its feet. Surely, this would be the most important day of my life.
We stood there in that moment, two beings from literally two different worlds, in embrace.
Then my phone rang, and its head exploded.
All of their heads exploded. | We got the first message not five years ago, not five months ago, no, five minutes ago. These aliens were not the kind to give humanity a chance to prepare itself.
During the first minute our satellites and telescopes began to pick them up less than 1 million kilometres from the Earth, before being carved in two by sporadic laser fire. The largest of their ships could just be made out against the background of the Moon as they got closer and closer.
By the second minute the last communications satellites were clouds of debris and vapourised metal, we couldn't even have a worldwide panic attack together anymore. Their ships didn't even need to be directly in front of the Moon to be visible any more, at this point I'd got into my car and started driving.
By the third minute, I was still driving. At regular intervals around the globe, vast vessels slowly dropped into the atmosphere. All the roads were blocked as people tried to drive away from the looming behemoths, but front gardens made alright substitute lanes.
Fourth minute and I'd reached the school. In the playground the kids, most of them crying, had lined up in front of their teachers. Ms Bellamy, the head teacher, was doing miracles stopping the kids from running away. I ran up to the gate and shouted over to my daughter, Melinda.
At the start of the fifth minute the children, teachers and parents were forced into the school by armed police. They'd arrived after gunshots had been heard in the area to ensure the school wasn't attacked. That seemed pretty useless, but when a man can find some purpose in his last few minutes who am I to stop him.
And now we can all hear them again. The first message was quiet, as if they had poised themselves behind everyone's neck and were whispering into our ears. This one boomed through the atmosphere; Melinda buried her head into my chest as our death sentence was spoken.
"Earthlings! We have seen all! We know your wrongdoings and come to bring retribution!" A huddle formed in the centre of the room, surrounded by weeping cops. "Prepare to perish!"
A blinding light engulfed the Earth, screams could be heard from north to south, from eats to west. And then we all stopped screaming, because nothing else had happened. Looking up to the sky we saw what we had thought would be our doom leave the atmosphere, the only proof of their arrival being shocked faces and abandoned cars.
Two days later the message was sent out from a science team in Spain, they'd figured out what had actually happened. 10% of all stomach bacteria had been killed by the attack.
The aliens missed. | 2014-10-10T09:53:19 | 2014-10-10T08:49:16 | 41 | 22 |
[WP] Hundreds of years ago an eccentric sorcerer turned all mythical creatures into humans to try and prevent them from being hunted to extinction. Now that the spell is starting to wear off, the descendants of the original beasts are slowly beginning to morph back into their true forms. | I sat bolt upright in bed, wiping the sweat off my face.
Wierd dreams were pretty normal for me, but these past two weeks they'd been extra special.
Reaching for the bottle of water on my dresser, I tried to wake myself up.
All the while fighting off an intense craving for a cigarette.
Which was weird as I'd had my first and only cigarette at the age of 13, and had promplty decided they weren't for me.
I didn't smoke, I didn't vape. Yet here I was with the intense burning itch to inhale smoke and feel the flames in my lungs.
I rubbed my forehead. At least it was cool in this room. In fact it was near freezing it felt like. Thank god summer was finally over.
After sitting down for nearly twenty minutes I worked up the willpower, and the mental acuity, to get my ass out of bed and into the shower.
At which point the irritation and anger woke me up further.
I guess the hot water heater is busted, because the shower wouldn't even count as luke warm. It was like bathing in ice water.
And its still cold in the house, despite the thermostat being set to sixty eight. Wierd?
And I still wanted that damn cigarette.
Still wanted it badly enough to start dry heaving.
Alright, to hell with this. I pulled on my socks, which took far too long. Couldn't quite get comfortable.
Where's the phone? There it is. I dialed the number for work.
“Oh, yeah. Ashley, its me James. Don't know if I'm going to be able to go into work today.” I rummaged around in the drawer over the oven.
“Is everything okay?” I could hear her rummaging around for the schedule for the week, likely to see if there was someone to cover the shift.
“Think I'm running a fever.” My voice was a little muffled by the thermometer in my mouth.”
“Think your coming down with something?”
I had been feeling achey for a while. “Yeah. Maybe?”
“What's the temperature?”
“Uh..” Well. That can't be right. “I think I also need to buy a new thermometer. It says my temperature is a hundred and fourty.”
“That doesn't sound healthy.” I shook my head and suppressed the desire to laugh.
“No. If my temperature was actually that I'd be on the floor brain dead.”
My back was starting to ache. Maybe I'd slept funny.
“Yeah. I think Alex can cover your shift. You get to feeling better alright.”
I smiled. I”ll certainly try.”
I ended the call and got three feet before I could taste the carpet.
I've never really lost consciousness before, not like that. Just passing out in the middle of the morning like that.
I'm not really sure what made me stir first. The ache from sleeping on the carpet in the living room. The burning need to pee.
The searing pain between my eyes. The taste of purple, or my phone buzzing against my face.
Or, I thought, as I gulped down about a liter of water out of the tap it might have been the thirst.
The room seemed smaller. I thought it was my imagination, but no.
The normal sized glass looked tiny in my hand. Like looking at a picture of Andre the Giant holding a normal sized beer can.
Oh. Also the fact that my arm was now covered in a mesh of silvered scales that glowed brightly underneath the florescent bulbs in the kitchen.
Or the tail that was currently hanging near my legs. The wings that I caught sight of in a mirror in the hallway.
Am I a Half Dragon? Did I just turn into my Dungeons & Dragons character?
Oh right. Phone was going off. Nearly three hundred missed calls, and nearly a thousand texts. Wait. WAIT.
I called in sick on the first, and its now the fourth? Well. Time to do the first thing a man should do at the start of the apocalypse.
Call Mom and let her know I'm not dead. And maybe find out what all happened while I was unconscious. Wonder if this just happened to me?
OW MY EARS.
Is that an amber alert? Oh. No. Apparently this isn't just happening to me.
Well. Guess imma have breakfast and call mom, because I HUNGER. | I'd like to start with a simple apology. I'm sorry. I'm sorry to the creatures I've hurt. I'm sorry for the torment that I've caused. I'm sorry for playing God.
You see, it was all in good faith. I was trying to protect the Innocents in the world. I only wanted to help, but I fear I may have made a grave mistake all those years ago...
I am old. Older than the running river. Older than the stone mountains. I have lived in these woods for what man would consider an eternity. To me, it is just a lifetime.
But I have seen the way things change. I have seen how man has impacted the world around him in such a short time frame. From the first flower blooming to the last snowfall, each season has brought a multitude of differences to the land.
It started with man settling here. It used to be, only a few would pass through at a time. Occasionally they would set up camp but usually they would keep moving. But one year things changed.
There was a settlement. How quickly it grew into a bustling little town. This of course meant they needed more resources. They chopped trees and hunted animals much quicker than ever before with their changes in technology. Soon the men started to outnumber the beasts, and many beasts were in danger of being eliminated from this world.
That was when I took action. I had to. My home was being destroyed. My friends were being slaughtered. Some to be eaten. Some to be trophies. I had to act quickly.
I cast a spell across the entirety of this land. I made it so the beasts that were endangered were transformed into humans. Unicorns, dragons, yetis, gargoyles, fairies and everything else man tried to hunt were now humans themselves. This was the only way to protect them you see, as man always hunts that which is different.
So I changed these creatures into new people and cast a growing spell that provided enough vegetation to help mankind survive the upcoming winter.
Over the years the creatures assimilated into society spectacularly. As the years went on, mankind grew as did it's civilizations. Mankind brought incredible and powerful changes into the universe. Things seemed to be going well for quite some time.
But I'm at the twilight of my life now. My power is not what it once was, and I cannot protect the land the way I used to.
The spell that I cast all of those years ago is starting to wear off. I am not strong enough to keep the spell going. Slowly more and more people are morphing back into the creatures of old.
It will not happen overnight. Nay, it is a slow and tortuous process. It starts with the mind. Slowly the mind bends and folds into itself trying to reassemble what once was. Then the spirit of the animal takes over. At that point, these spirits are imprisoned in a body that is not their own. Serving a sentence for a crime that I committed...
The body is the last thing to change, and it is a painful, grotesque transformation that would drive even the strongest of men to madness.
That is why I am so sorry. I'm sorry for my arrogance. For thinking I could help.
As I grow closer to death, I try to watch over these trapped spirits where I can. Tried to guide them to each other. A few of them have you even come up with a name for themselves. *Otherkin* | 2019-10-09T13:53:37 | 2019-10-09T13:24:05 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] You receive a government text warning saying “EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC”. You hear your SO at the locked front door, who’s just come back from the supermarket. They beg to be let inside but you’re unsure. Something doesn’t feel right. | *bzzzzzztttttttt*
I picked up my phone. No number, just the called ID as "GVMT EMERGENCY WARNING". Odd. Opened it up.
>"EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC"
My initial assumption was that it was another false alarm, or some sort of government hacking so I really wasn't too concerned. Besides, with the crime rate in my part of town I had my doors locked anyway.
Still, curiosity did get the better of me. Opened up Twitter just to see what was going on, and it seemed pretty clear that it was a false alarm. It had only been a few minutes, but #EmergencyFail was already trending. I would have looked more into it, but far more important was that my phone was down to 6% battery.
I put my phone back on the charger and turned back to my PC. Immediately my eyes went wide with fear to what was displaying on my screen.
Russia? War? With Us?
It might have made sense 50 years ago, but not with the state of the world now. Sure enough, it was true though. Armies were deploying along the border.
*bzzzzzztttttttt*
I could see on my phone that it was another message from "GVMT EMERGENCY WARNING". I didn't bother opening it - I could already predict what it said.
My mind was racing though. Looking at the screen I instinctively knew I needed to plan.
**BANG BANG BANG**
I momentarily ignored the banging on the banging on the door, as something didn't feel right.
>"Honey, it's me, open up"
I looked further - an invasion force was coming over the southern border.
>"Is this about the text message - false alarm you donk"
I couldn't take my eyes off the screen though - global war was breaking out.
>"OK, It's not funny now open up"
Half of New York was now destroyed.
**BANG BANG BANG**
I continued to watch as things unfolded. Global war was breaking out. I sat and watched, mesmerised. India had now fired a nuclear warhead at Russia.
>"Are you OK"
I ignored the voice at the door, as Paris had been taken over. I knew the action I needed to take.
>"Please let me in"
I think it was about 3 hours later when China finally fell. I had lost count of how many nuclear weapons India had fired.
>"I'm scared"
By now it was dark outside. It was also starting to rain a little. I watched on my screen as all signs were pointing to Japan being destroyed.
I think I heard sobbing outside at one point, but by now it was clear what I had to do. I continued to stare at the screen, as it all played out.
I'm not even sure how long I spent watching as the world destroyed itself.
It was about 3am when I realized I hadn't eaten all day and I needed food. I looked back at the screen, and knew that I would not be taking "Just one more turn". I got up and unlocked the front door, so I could help my wife bring in the shopping. | For the first time since specifically choosing the dark mottled glass that we fit into the front door, I regret it. We pondered over everything in the house for so long I thought we would never make any decisions, but it was the one thing we both agreed on instantly. One of the few joyous moments I can remember from the past few months.
I can hear you making bad jokes and exhaling cigarette smoke. The glass is mottled but I can still see the ribbons that frame your face, you almost look gentle. I know this pretence won’t last long and soon your fist will be on a mission to meet up with my nose. My heart is in my throat as you call my name in that sing song way I used to think was cute. You tell me you can see me. Bastard glass, I knew we should have chosen a carved wooden panel instead. I will kick myself for this forever.
I need to think fast. I had planned to walk out before I got the text, my suitcases casting a dim shadow over my legs as I stand dead centre in the hallway. You’re getting irate. I can’t have you see the suitcases. I can’t. It will turn them into bodybags, holding my limbs close and solid against the worn material. I need more time. I need more time... I can hear you growing more and more exasperated. Your knuckles meet the glass as you slowly knock, a gentle beat. It reminds me of the song we used to sing in the car.
I can feel the sun on my face, the wind blowing my hair everywhere and you complaining, again, about how much of it falls out and litters your lap. You like it really. Little pieces of me to remind you what’s yours. The song playing in the background and our falsetto so loud we could probably deafen small children. But then the beat quickens, and I can hear the glass shatter.
I’ve spent so long worrying and thinking back to better times that I don’t have enough time to react as you thrust your hand through the glass and unlock the bolt. My hearing catches my sight up and I turn to run but the handle you’ve created out of my hair lately is already in your hands.
I hope you snap my neck. That’s the last thing I think before my body yanks back and meets with the cold hard floor. | 2019-01-12T06:57:50 | 2019-01-12T06:51:06 | 184 | 25 |
[WP] “How many people would have been better off had I not been born?” The genie snaps and a few numbers appear in the air and form 7,592. “Okay, how many people would benefit from my existence?” With the flip of a wrist the numbers spin to a whopping 137 trillion. “Okay.... how?” | A bead of sweat formed on the genie's brow, as he nervously searched for the right words to use, fully aware that he was about to deliver my fate.
"Your existence will result in the cure for cancer being developed, which will pave the way for hundreds of generations to come," he said, confident that he had delivered not only the truth, but a means of avoiding a difficult question.
"Oh wow!" I exclaimed, "do I develop the cure myself?"
The genie looked down at his whispy tail, and the glistening lamp he had emerged from. "Not exactly," he replied.
"Oh," I said, suddenly grasping what he meant. "I get cancer?"
The genie lit up. "Oh no no no, nothing like that!" he said, his tone finally shifting. "No you'll be pleased to know that you'll stay cancer free for the rest of your days."
"Great!" I chimed. "But how then? If I don't develop a cure, and I don't get the illness, then how could I help in the development of a cure?"
The genie cursed silently to himself, but he knew that holding out much longer would only prolong the inevitable. "Well, the man who develops the cure will do so as a direct result of your life," he began.
"Go on," I pressed.
"The man in question discovers the cure while serving time for murder."
My stomach dropped. "Mine?"
The genie slowly nodded.
"My... my murderer will result in the development of the cure for cancer?" I asked, the blood drained from my face. At least my life would have an impact on others, I thought to myself. What a way to go.
"Yes. He will discover the cure while researching his own cancer, using the knowledge of his prison library and a volunteer research group he will join," the genie explains.
"I suppose it's for the greater good then," I sighed, accepting my fate. "What kind of cancer does he have, out of interest?" I pry.
"Stomach cancer," the genie replies, "as a result of cannibalism." | "don't get me wrong, you won't be a hero foretold in legends or a scientist that found the cure for cancer, but you will shape humanity with mundane clumsiness"
"mundane clumsiness?! That's not much of a super power is it?"
"well you did kind of broke that middle eastern lamp you found at a yard sale and were forced to buy it and it contained me. Soo yeah..."
"oke fair enough, but still how do i oops my way to saving humanity?"
" in 8 months you, a server at Starbucks will knock over a tray of coffee on a young man. That young man is an aspiring oil executive. He's on his way to a job interview at a small oil company. It's not much but it sends him in a path to become the world largest oil influence and he will lobby for fossil fuel. This will destroy every last chance for the world to recover. Because of you he didn't get the job. Because of your mundane clumsiness ethan, he will fail. "
" but what about the 7592, is there anything i can do to prevent that? "
" thats the one percent ethan, i suggest you don't" | 2018-08-15T06:31:04 | 2018-08-15T03:47:40 | 351 | 186 |
[WP] You are an impoverished superhero and a single parent. You are so preoccupied with being a hero and working multiple jobs, that you don't notice your child's slide into villainy until it's to late. | "I tried..." My son looked at me with contempt. He was about to unleash evil and horror upon the people and I could do nothing to stop it.
"Oh, you 'tried.' Like that makes it better. I watched how the world treated you. You were an object lesson for me. You moments of superheroism were celebrated briefly. Meanwhile, the villains got to profit without nary a scratch. All your efforts were forgotten in moments. No real thanks, no support, just something to make use of for publicity when it was convenient."
It hurt because it was true. We were poor and, from the jobs I had to work, I didn't have the time for him. I did my best, but there will always another villain. Another evil.
But I didn't resent doing it. "And you don't resent doing it." I looked up to see him playing with his favorite sea shell. A small token when I had a brief moment of respite and we went to the beach. "Oh I know how you think. It's your 'duty' and such nonsense. Really, you're a good person, but a terrible parent."
"I must be if this is how you grew up. You lied to get where you are. You cheated people of their proper dues. Every agreement you've made has been like a pact with the devil. And all the... the..." I couldn't even think of my son like that, selling his body to obtain his power.
"If it makes you feel better," he said with a smug grin, "I enjoyed *all* of it."
One of his people came up to him. "Sir, it's almost time."
He nodded. "I'll be there on cue. As for you..." He turned to me with a smile in his heart. I feared what he would say next. "As for you, I'm willing to make you a deal. You *are* the one who raised me, despite not having the resources for it."
I looked at him with hope. Maybe, just maybe I can-- "Retire." WHAT?! "Stop working. I can set you up with a home, living expenses paid for, you'll never have to lift a finger for the society that lifted nothing for you."
He wanted to remove me from the equation. No longer be an obstacle for the things to come. To allow him to triumph. Before I could say no, he said, "Ah ah ah, no answer right now. I have to introduce myself. I want you to think on it. We can talk later." He started walking away with the confidence that only a victor could carry.
As he approached the stage, I kind of shut down. His offer was tempting and I was so tired. I didn't even hear his speech after the announcer said to applause, "And now, your newly elected..." | I was 24 when I gave birth to Finley. There were so many variables. I could still remember when I got the news that they would be intersex. I can't even remember what the disorder was, god.
Remembering those bright eyes staring at me almost brings me to tears.
I am....I was the superhero Icepick. I was able to trap people within ice, and immobilize them for up to 7 minutes. My husband was the hero Sci-Mind, a genius who could reverse ideas.
He died to the Bronze Bull. Burned alive inside a statue.
I remember when Finley was 5 years old. They had already decided that this new thing in grammar called pronouns were stupid. I got a call from the principal. Finley had disappeared. We found them three hours later. I remember them exclaiming, "Mom, I have a superpower!" They named it Escapist. The ability to know how to escape from almost any situation. I was so blind. Escapist changed the brain in horrible ways, and I ignored it all. I had to stop villains, find ways to scrounge up money, all of that.
I had to do some less then legal things to get the money, and when the cops found out Finley disappeared.
Three years later the villain Jester starting making an appearance. Escaping one, then another, then another.
I got cleared of all charges, and was still able to get acess to some files.
Health records. It was a violation of privacy, but I needed to see my baby.
My heart froze at the scars, the burns, lining their body. This could have only come from the very prisons my child escaped from. A 15 year old had the scars. I sent people to those prisons.
As of now, I still work those same jobs. Watching the news. They've done a few interviews. I can't watch them. It hurts. It hurts to see what they've done to my child. | 2022-07-04T14:25:49 | 2022-07-04T12:55:55 | 26 | 14 |
[WP]A brave knight hunts an infamous dragon, and local villagers spend days telling him not to pursue his quest, to no avail. Eventually, one villager gets fed up and says, "Look us and the lizard have a good thing going here. Don't ruin it." | The purposeless Wisgarius trudged, unthinking, along the sole road out of the small town of Edgewood, staring only at his shadow, cast by the full moon at his back. His purpose, for the last 10 years, was simple: Kill Aerlaes, Bringer of Death. Kill the damned dragon that killed his father, Hildebrant the Brave, leaving behind only the scabbard Wisgarius now leaned on with every step. The conversation that robbed him of this goal concluded just a few minutes ago.
“What do you mean, you’ve got a good thing going? This dragon has slain men! The town of Meadowbrook turned to ruins in one night because this foul beast willed it so! How can you defend this… this monster?!”
Marvin Omenblood raised his hand with a smile before gesturing towards the now-empty stool in front of him.
“Noble hero, please. Take a seat. Not everything is as it seems. Take me, for example. My family name begets unease, and understandable it is, but I daresay I have treated you with unmatched kindness and respect. Granted, your miraculous uh… Egg-Jessel brought my father back, but it is what it is, eh?” Marvin glanced at his father. The man was audibly snoring, after years of lifelessness.
It wasn’t too odd for Marvin to keep his father in bed, alive, but also not alive, for so long; in fact, it was quite understandable. Before it was eradicated a decade prior, the Noxotta flower claimed many tens of victims, placing them in a completely comatose but non-deteriorative state. And while Yggdrasil sap, the sole cure, was difficult to come by for poorer folk, it merely took one generous adventurer passing through to save the day. Many towns closer to the capital had had their Noxed population fully cured. When Wisgarius arrived 2 days earlier, he took pity on Marvin and his father, missing his own, and offered his second-to-last bottle of sap.
Still quite annoyed, but now slightly intrigued, Wisgarius took a seat.
“Yggdrasil. The sap I gave him was extracted from Yggdrasil. But go on. What could I possibly be missing?”
“Noble hero, like a plague, misinformation spreads wildly and indiscriminately. The town of Meadowbrook succumbed to an army of orcs passing through, not Aerlaes.”
“Aerlaes, Bringer of Death,” Wisgarius corrected.
Marvin sighed. “Please, hero, allow me to finish.” He took a sip from his cup before continuing. “Now, as I was saying, Aerlaes was not the cause of Meadowbrook’s demise. In fact, the dragon laid the orcs to rest shortly after the incident. I know this because I was there. My father and I originally hail from Meadowbrook. We were returning from the capital when we saw smoke rising from the town’s direction. We rushed to the nearest hills, and from there we saw the atrocities the orcs were committing. And we could do nothing. We were not equipped. If we had tried to help, we would have been slain as well. We camped out on the hill until the orcs left, but they were marching briskly in our direction. This is when, by some miracle, Aerlaes flew in from behind us and laid waste to the orcs!”
Wisgarius was not impressed. “Okay, let’s say the Bringer of Death didn’t destroy Meadowbrook. It still didn’t \*save\* it. It is still a dragon, a threat to be neutralized! It has killed men!”
Marvin remained unsettled. “Think, hero. Of all disasters Aerlaes is claimed to have caused, which can you prove?”
“Hildebrant the Brave! The greatest knight of Dinaria’s history, slain in his sleep in the woods just outside this town! Not even his bones remained!” Wisgarius was again standing, twitching with anger. He did not even care what the man in front of him would reply. No circumstance could forgive the dragon’s deed. He had just about left the hut when Marvin’s next words forced him to return to his seat.
“Ahh, yes, I remember Hildebrant. He was the first to come to attempt to slay Aerlaes. The look on your face tells me you didn’t know that. Ah, that’s right, the story was that he was traveling to the furthest cities from the capital in search of talent. No no, he made it clear he was here to slay the dragon, but we made sure to tell him that was unacceptable. You see, Aerlaes protected this town. Not directly, but ever since he settled in the--whoops, almost let that slip--but anyway, after Meadowbrook, other creatures avoid this area. I’m sure you noticed that within a radius of half a day’s ride on horseback there are no troublesome creatures to be found. We like that security. And after word of Hildebrant’s demise went around, travellers like yourself started arriving, hoping to be the one to slay him. Meaning more business for us and great trade! You’re the first to have Yggdrasil to spare, though.”
“Wait wait wait wait wait. I’m listeneing, but I'm still not hearing anything proving me wrong about the creature and Hildebrant, let alone the other adventurers he’s slain.”
Marvin’s face went grim, and he replied matter-of-factly, “Listen hero, if the dragon disappears, as does our safety, our business, everything. No one has a reason to travel this far if not for the dragon. I mean, at first, it was just to keep Aerlaes around for protection, but warrior after warrior kept coming and so many refuse to get turned away peacefully! So we handle the stubborn ones and ditch their belongings in the woods. Say the dragon did it, attract more eager heroes. I figure it further deters the smaller creatures. It’s my turn; I was supposed to poison you tonight and throw you to the dogs, but you saved my father so I’m letting you go. It’s not personal, really. I hope you understand. We cannot give up our protector.”
Wisgarius was doing everything he could to contain his anger. He needed an answer, and he knew would not get it if he snapped too soon. “Clever. I must assume Hildebrant met his end in this fashion?”
“Poor man. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. My father was the one, actually, he invited him in for tea and to ‘divulge the location of the beast’, but Hildebrant was good; he got my father with a Noxotta dart before the poison fully ki--”
Marvin’s head landed on the floor at about the same time the distraught knight’s sword thrust into the throat of the man in bed.
“It’s done, father.” | /Town of Elderyn/
She was a heavyset woman with hair piled intricately on her head. Heavy jewelry clacked against her ample bustline and layered robes of purple and blue swayed delicately around her ankles. She had to stretch as she reached for the glass jar on the top shelf. It was filled with a crimson powder and the little man at the front counter eyed it greedily.
“This here’s the strong stuff. Who’re ye gettin’ this much for?”
He grinned with a nasty sort of glint in his eyes.
“We’re getting this for a Dragon.”
She snorted at him and set the jar on the sales table.
“Gettin yerself killed is it? As long as ye’ pay I don’t care much what you do with it.”
He shuffled and dragged a bag of coins up from some hidden compartment in his trousers. She counted out the right amount and handed him the jar.
“Do you think you could have some more ready by next week?”
She thought and checked a create of dried leaves behind the counter.
“I gess so, assuming yer still alive.”
“Alright then. I’ll be expecting it”
He snatched his purchase and tucked it away into some unknown hiding place.
“Bye now.”
That unnerving grin appeared once more before he vanished behind her flimsy shop door. She gathered the coin and tucked it into the money pouch in her bosom. Might as well begin working on the next batch.
————
/Town of Silksdorn— 10 miles to the East/
The grass was green and a sweet breeze blew ripples across it’s surface. Brown cattle grazed in the sunlight and two shirtless men leaned against the perimeter fence. Another man was merrily making his way towards them.
“What are you doing here?”
They eyed their visitor with arms crossed. The small stranger only smiled.
“I’m here to buy exactly three brown cows.”
“Get lost.” The words were accompanied by a rude gesture and forceful spitting at the ground.
He was unfazed.
“I’ll pay double what they are worth.”
The shirtless farmhands scowled.
“You’re from Elderyn.” The older one pointed into the distance, “We’d rather kill our cattle than sell to some runt from Elderyn.”
The visitor pulled the bag of coin from his trousers.
“Not even for triple?”
This time there was a small faltering. A weakness.
“Well— what do ya want them for?”
His eyes glanced at the sack of gold as he said it.
“Our elders figured cross breeding the brown cattle from Silksdorn with our white ones might make a healthier herd. That’s all.”
The two looked at each other and then back at him suspiciously.
“No Elderyn tricks?”
“No Elderyn tricks.”
His smile still shone pleasant and unmoving.
Some quiet muttering passed between the cattle ranchers before the sale was finally agreed on. Two heifers and a bull were roped and given over. In exchange they received a fat bag of coin.
“Our Herbs Master came up with a feeding supplement to fatten the cattle quicker if you’re interested. I’ll give you this free jar to start as a token of good will.”
He pushed the container over into their hands and began the trek home.
“Bye now.”
With a wave farewell he left them to their cattle.
————
/Mountain side three miles North of Elderyn/
The three brown cattle and three white cattle followed him to camp. So far the plan was working well. The Herbs Master had another crimson jar prepared like he’d asked. Now all that was left was to feed the dragon.
On the first day he sprinkled crimson powder onto the grass he fed to one of the brown heifers. With a few apologies to the poor animal he tied it to a tree outside the blackened cave. When it’s dying screams echoed back to his camp later that evening he knew the dragon had taken the bait.
The next day, another cow was sacrificed to the merciless beast. This time pure white, yet no red powder was placed into its food. The dragon took the bait once more.
For four more days he did this. Each time he fed the dragon with a brown cow, powder was given to it beforehand. The white cow received none.
When he was finally finished he returned to town and informed the townsfolk what he had done. Only time would tell if it would work.
————
/Town of Elderyn/
“I’m sorry but this really doesn’t make any sense. You DON’T want me to kill the dragon?”
The knight scratched his head and furrowed his eyebrows.
“No! He’s been quiet helpful to us! Dragons really aren’t as bad as they say!”
That grin was devilishly pristine and almost ran a shiver down Sir Argur’s back.
“—But it’s taken to killing cattle. As the nearest town you would be most targeted!”
“Look here!” The little townsman waved his hand over their large and white herd of thriving livestock, “Do you see any signs of slaughter?”
The soldier ran a hand behind his neck and looked puzzled.
“I suppose not.”
“So forget the matter! Come, relax and enjoy a meal with me.”
“Ah— I would be honored.”
His face betrayed a level of reserved hesitation but he ended up at this man’s house all the same. It was a modest hovel. The most interesting thing in the whole space was a hanging display of a war axe over the mantle.
“Got that from the War?” He was trying to come up with polite conversation.
His host busied himself in the kitchen.
“Oh yes, though I keep it around in case the Silksdorn come knocking. Bitter enemies. We hate them, they hate us.”
The name rang a small bell in Sir Argur’s mind.
“I think they were the ones who logged the initial complaint about the dragon.”
“Troublemakers! Don’t worry about that lizard any longer.”
His host popped his head back into the living room.
“By the way, did you want a bit of Crimson Mindle in your tea?”
The knight shook his head, “Ah— no thanks, I’d like to keep a clear mind.”
“Fair enough. It’s a powerful high. The stuff can be quite addictive.”
“Indeed.” | 2019-04-15T01:57:58 | 2019-04-15T01:13:52 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] The Devil appears before you and puts a heavy hand on your shoulder, "Look, we need to talk about you putting me in every Writing Prompt." | I took a deep breath. “Ok, here it goes. This one will get upvoted for sure.”
> Hogwarts has a new teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts… and it’s Satan.
The Devil shook his head. “Look, we just talked about this.”
“Yeah, but it’s a Harry Potter prompt,” I argued back. “Everyone knows those are the best. You only said not to make prompts that are *just* about you.”
He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “No. I *said* that you need to stop putting me into your writing prompts. *Any* prompt; even awesome Harry Potter prompts that some authors really seem to love. Got it? Try again.”
I tapped delete on the submission box and thought about it for a second.
> Two people are having a discussion at the last moments of planet Earth.
“Good!” Satan read over my shoulder. “Open ended, leaves plenty of room for writers to take it in whatever way they wa….”
But I wasn’t done typing.
> And it turns out that they’re actually God and the Devil.
“Come on!” Satan burst out. “Seriously, again? How thick are you?”
“But it’s a good prompt!” I shot back.
“No, it’s not! You put the fucking twist in the title! Now if someone tries to write a different story about something cool like trying to evacuate the planet, then they’re going to get downvoted for not following the prompt!” He thumped a fist on my desk, causing the keyboard to jump in the air. “Now do a real one this time.”
“Fine.” I set my hands back on the keys and thought about it for a moment.
> A serial killer realizes that his date is also a serial killer... and they are both inspired to kill by...
"I swear, if you type what I think you're going to type, I will smack you silly," Satan growled.
I deleted that, but already had another idea in my mind.
> Batman sees the names of Pokemon floating over the heads of every citizen of Gotham...
“Whatever,” Satan said with the most exaggerated eye-roll possible. “I don’t even care anymore, as long as I’m not in it.”
> And realizes that it is the work of the Devil!
“That's it. I’m going to get the mods to ban you,” he growled.
“Oooh, that’s a good prompt!” I replied. “Satan needs a favor from the moderators, and he offers them a deal….”
“What is wrong with you? Look, it’s really not that hard.” He wrenched the keyboard away from me.
> Aliens conquer Earth and destroy civilization; the only humans left to resist them are primitive tribes in Africa and the Amazon.
He shoved the keyboard back at me. “There. Easy upvotes, and without even mentioning me, OK? Submit that, and you’ll get plenty of great stories. People love that /r/HFY stuff.”
“Fine,” I answered.
Satan turned away for just a moment, and I typed as quietly as possible:
> ^and ^their ^only ^hope ^is ^to ^make ^a ^deal ^with ^Satan
“*Now* it’s good.” I muttered to myself.
“I give up,” Satan said, throwing his hands in the air. “I just… fuck you, man.”
“Hey maybe my prompts are shitty but at least it’s not one of those stories that ends in a blatantly obvious cliffhanger where the person is clearly trying to goad readers into asking for a part 2 so they can advertise their subreddit,” I told Satan. “Those are…”
We were interrupted by a hammering knock on the door.
“Uh oh…” Satan whispered under his breath.
----
Part 2 maybe on /r/Luna_Lovewell????
| It's not always that you get a visit from the devil. And when you do, you'd expect something bad to happen, like being pulled down to hell, finding out that you're his illegitimate child or being drawn to some eternal conflict that you had no idea that you're part of.
"Look, that's not what I am here for."
Wait... what?
"Yes, I can see that you're already formulating a story in your head. Or a writing prompt, I don't really care. The thing is, I'm here to talk about something else."
It turns out that despite how people describe the devil, with horns, fire and what-not, he is actually not that much different from any human-
"Can you PLEASE just stop thinking about writing a story for a second? I can read thoughts too, just so you know."
And what do you know? Out of all the powers Satan is rumored to have, no one has expected him to have mind reading powers. [WP] Write a story where the devil reads your mind and ends up being disgusted instead.
"I AM NOT DISGUSTED. MORE LIKE ANNOYED."
The devil's voice boomed, shaking the very foundation of the house. His eyes glowed fiery red, and it seemed as if the ground itself was on fire. What could have possibly brought him to the mortal realm?
"I AM HERE BECAUSE OF YOU. Honestly, me and that white good for nothing guy up there agreeing on something? It's seriously overrated! What's with you humans and having to use me for all your story ideas? Or Hitler for that matter? Or Batman and Joker? I'm seriously nauseated with all these overused tropes."
What the humans never realized, in their quest to write good stories, was how Lucifer-
"OMG please stop. Your story doesn't even flow consistently! One moment I'm the devil, next I'm Satan and now I'm Lucifer? Your tenses and grammar don't even make sense! Like I said, please stop using me for every writing prompt or story you have in mind. It's getting old. Why not use Jesus instead? Or Jehovah? That name has better ring to it than Lucifer. And he's omni-"
Shaitan, however, never got to finish his sentence. A loud puff of smoke exploded beside him, revealing a old figure dressed completely in white. Like the figure in red, he was not pleased.
"I am not pleased because I overheard a brilliant idea coming from our dear friend Lucifer here. What makes you think I would be happy being the overused trope in stories?"
"Oh please, says the fella who enjoys being worshiped and adored."
"I don't! And haven't you heard before of the verse, never use the name of the Lord in vain."
As the two figures continue to bicker in an otherwise unassuming house, the protagonist swiftly returns to his computer, his fingers moving methodically across the keyboard.
[WP] The Devil and God landed in your house. They decide to argue about something stupid.
--------------
/r/dori_tales | 2017-01-10T09:08:51 | 2017-01-10T09:02:13 | 1,433 | 47 |
[WP] "There's lemonade, if you're thirsty!" "I don't see any lemonade..." "I guess you're not thirsty then." | "It's true, I'm not thirsty. I just figured I'd support our friendly neighborhood hustler," I said, patting John Fremont on his poofy red head.
"So if there's no lemonade, what are you selling here Johnny?" Motioning with an upturned palm to the empty yellow table behind which Johnny sat with crossed arms.
"Mostly lemonade," he said, accompanied by a big grin with gaps where a few teeth had fallen out.
I stood there a bit stupefied, looking right back at Johnny's squinting blue eyes. It was a bright, hot day, but there wasn't a lot of foot traffic in our cul-de-sac. It made me wonder once more about all the oversized houses with their vast air-conditioned basements and entertainment systems. People were probably sheltering, watching the latest questionable made-for-Netflix series, munching on last night's dinner leftovers even though it was still only 10 am. I was on my way back home after a brief walk up the street to stretch my legs. Johnny's empty lemonade stand presented a curious oddity given the de-populated nature of modern suburban street life. Also the kid was harmless.
"Um, alright then I guess Johnny. I hope you make a killing!" I began to walk away.
"Mr. Irving?"
"Yes Johnny?"
"Can I sell you a gun?"
"A what?" I stammered. "Did you just say gun, Johnny?"
"Yeah this one," he said.
I hadn't seen him reach for it under the table--it was just sitting there in front of him, as if it had always been there. I was about two yards away from the table, and had to rub my eyes and shield them from the sun.
"Johnny," I said as I approached once more. "Does your father know that you have that?"
"It's alright Mr. Irving. This isn't my dad's. It's yours."
"What do you mean?"
"It's a Glock 43, black matte, crystal clean. 9 millimeter caliber, lightweight, easy to handle. It's yours, Mr. Irving, because you want it." Johnny held the gun like a daytime TV jewelry hawker. "This *is* what you want, isn't it Mr. Irving?"
Processing the scene was impossible but I had to try to figure this out before anyone saw us. How did Johnny know this? Had he somehow seen my browser history? But he's only nine years old, how could he have accessed my phone? I barely ever saw Johnny, or anyone on the block for that matter. People were hermits. TV and internet were responsible. Entertainment had hermitized humanity to the point that nothing was really shocking and no piece of news or information had any kind of staying power anymore. People were hungry for the next thing, and I was no expection. It was boring. Everything had become boring.
But wait what am I saying--that's all beside the point. Here's this little kid who was a toddler not so long ago, holding out a lethal weapon to me from his yellow lemonade stand, saying it's mine.
"Go on, take it, Mr Irving," said Johnny.
"Give me that," I cried, and swiped the gun from him. "This is no toy for children."
"I know that, Mr. Irving."
I turned to walk away when Johnny screamed bloody murder, "Mr. Irving!"
I didn't exactly point the gun at him but his yell was so deep and startling that I leveled my gun arm in his general direction.
"That'll be one dollar, Mr. Irving."
I smiled out of fear and confusion, but I didn't pull the gun down before Johnny's house's door opened and his dad emerged on the front porch, leveling a rifle at me. In my mind I heard myself whisper 'wait', about the same moment the bang sounded and a sickly crunching sound filled my ears. My vision faded as the world seemed to turn perpendicular, and then there was nothing.
\_\_\_\_\_
/r/velabasstuff | "There's lemonade if you're thirsty!" said the short lady hardly looking up from her magazine.
"What?" I double took and looked at her stand. It was empty. Just a wooden table adorned with a silky white cloth.
"Lemonade, you know! The tangy yellow drink that quenches your thirst on a hot afternoon like this." she said, still barely glancing at me.
"I don't see any lemonade, hold on lady what are you on about?"
"Well..." she replied shrugging her shoulders, "Guess you aren't thirsty then."
Was I going crazy? This lady was making a profound statement. The stand was obviously empty. And yes, I was thirsty. Now even more so! But she couldn't really make lemonade magically appear out of thin air. I looked around the table again. Nope! Definitely no lemonade!
"Madam, kindly refrain from such lies. Your stand is quite empty. And how can you say that I'm not thirsty? You definitely don't know me or anything about me." I told her slowly, articulating each word so that she could understand. Poor devil must be senile, it's best that I help her through this, I thought to myself.
Finally she put her magazine down and got up. She was really tiny, four feet nothing. She wore large round specs and her eyes were fixed on me.
"Look kid! I've been in the business long enough and I know all the thirsty ones. And you my friend clearly aren't thirsty enough for a lemonade." she said, grinning.
"What's wrong you woman? I'm not blind, I can clearly see that there is no lemonade. There wasn't any lemonade five minutes back either. We've been standing here arguing over nothing. Absolutely nothing, because there is absolutely no sign of any lemonade here!" I screamed as my ears went hot and red. If I didn't need a lemonade before I sure could use one now.
"Kid, stop working up a sweat. I've already told you no lemonade, if you aren't really thirsty." she said, ambling back to her seat.
"Madam, I am absolutely parched but there is no lemonade ON THAT TABLE! " I bellowed, profusely sweating. I wouldn't argue with such delusions any more. I was ready to walk.
"Hold on kid! Who said anything about ON the table?" She walked up to her stand. Bending down, she brought up a rather large jug of (*what looked like*) freshly made lemonade. She poured it in to a plastic cup and handed it to me. "I just mentioned that there was a lemonade with your name on it if you were thirsty enough. And by the looks of you, you're pretty worked up and could use a glass or two." she said, shrugging again while handing over the glass to me.
As she walked past, she looked up at my flabbergasted face, smiled and said,"That'll be three dollars kid, it was a real pleasure doing business with you."
With that she walked back to her seat and buried her face back in her magazine. | 2020-08-01T14:21:54 | 2020-08-01T13:48:46 | 17 | 11 |
[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. | For /u/ttough, who requested a more passive, surgical approach. My first prompt!
"You have an artist's hands."
Mira didn't jump in surprise, not anymore. Instead she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, accidentally smudging a little blood from her glove.
"Perhaps that's what I should have been," she replied quietly, and looked at the lifeless body on the gurney in front of her. The cuts were neat, precise, but it still hadn't saved him. It was a car that had killed him, but it felt like it had been her.
Pale fingers reached past her shoulder, a curved blade tracing the incisions she had made. They closed as if by magic, the pools of scarlet disappearing into nothing. It was still on her hands, though, tacky and tasteless.
"Mira, you are still an artist."
Mira turned slightly, and looked at Death. He looked back at her, at life, at a desperate attempt of it, and smiled. It was a sympathetic smile, one topped by eyes of pure black, eyes that had seen every mistake she had ever made, and still he smiled.
"You hurt when you see me," he murmured, his head tilting to the side when she twined her fingers with his. "You hurt even as you hunger."
Seeing him was like a kick to her system, a handsome spectre with a skeletal smile, the balm to the ache of losing another life. Amidst the sterile rooms and the gleaming tools, he stood like a swathe of darkness, and she was drawn to him, just as she was discouraged.
"I know I've failed when I see you," she replied softly, turning back to the bed to see the dead man's body - whole again, for now. "At least you bring them peace."
"So do you," he offered gently, one cold finger brushing her cheek. "You try to give them a second chance."
Mira turned to catch his palm against her jaw, savouring the chill burn, but her blood pumped slower with every second, and her skin grew colder with every touch.
"That's the problem," she whispered, and pressed a kiss to icy lips, even though it stung, even though it might kill her. "My work is in life."
"And mine in death," he replied.
The kiss stole the very breath from her lungs.
He drew back, keeping their fingers intertwined until the last possible moment, until her skin started to hurt, started to die, and then her hand fell against her surgical scrubs. He smiled again, soft and sad, and pressed two bloodied fingers to his lips. "Until the next time, angel."
The lights flickered, and he was gone, the body raw and red once more, and her heart screaming for oxygen.
"Until the next time," she sighed, but she pushed chilled fingers to her lips with a smile.
Mira's pager went off; a pile up on the motorway, the same accident that had introduced them the first time. So many people, so many lives, so many chances.
They said that absence made the heart grow fonder, so she took a deep breath, and returned to her work. | "Sally, we really need to talk about our relationship."
Me and my girlfriend were standing in the middle of a bloody crime scene. She just murdered a old ww2 veteran in his home by poisoning his tea.
I have to admit, she was getting better and better with the killings. The poison she used would soon dissolve in the blood of the victim and the tea, making his death look like a normal cardiac arrest. Something normal for a 90 year old.
Her first kill was really clumsy. She ambushed a middle aged office worker in his apartment. The struggle which ensued took several minutes, alamred the neighbours and left a mountain of evidence. She barely escaped.
It was like watching a toddler making his first steps.
But at that day when we first saw each other, we knew we were destined to be together. So I helped cover her trails and showed taught her the skills of a master assassin I reaped years ago.
And now we were standing here, while I held her in my arms.
"What about it?"
"Darling, I love you and I really wish to spend more time with you. But the killings are getting a little bit overboard. I mean, this guy didnt deserved to die, neither did his time actually come. With this you are creating more unnecessary work for me."
"But thats the only way I can see you. You are always working and have close to zero free time."
She was right.
Many people think that the Grim Reaper is a single person, living since the begin of time. In reality we are a line of different persons. Each one of us was chosen by special criterias. And once we took the job we would work almost non stop for decades till we retired with the riches we "confiscated" from people who didnt need it anymore.
I was stroking trough her long blonde hair when I had an idea.
"Sally, how about you only kill those guys who are creating more unnecessary work for me?"
"You mean bad girls like me?"
"Exactly, serial killers, hitmen, mob bosses and their members. The scum of society nobody really needs. With this I could actually spend more time with you."
She smiled.
"Sounds good, but I will have to travel alot for this my sweet Reaper."
"Dont worry, I got this covered. Just see it as a opportunity to travel around the world with me." | 2017-06-07T22:37:36 | 2017-06-07T18:59:16 | 110 | 80 |
[WP] You made it to the semi-finals of a nationwide elite wizardry competition. The crowd loves you, and the esteemed judges regarded you as the dark horse of the competition, with your unorthodox approach. There's just one problem; You don't know how to use magic. You never did.
Bonus points if you find a way to include a harmonica solo. | **Magic is not that hard.**
And yet... Esra couldn’t do magic.
Her father was a dwarf. Her mother, a giant. Though she looked vaguely human, there wasn’t a magical bone in her body. In fact, her bones were so un-magical, they gave her an unusual advantage…
All Esra ever wanted to do was attend Magic School. She didn’t care that she couldn’t do magic like the other kids. Just like any child, she wanted to learn and to experience the pure wonder of the wizarding world.
But that world was closed to her. In a nation of witches and wizards, racism against “non-magic folk” was rampant.
She did not get her letter. She was never invited. But Esra packed her bags and marched all the way to the gates of the school, anyway.
When she showed up, the castle gates were already closed. They refused to budge for her. She was greeted only by a crowd of insult-hurling children.
“Half-breed!”
“Get out of here, you magicless mutt!”
Someone dangled a piece of paper out of the gates, saying, “Oh, didn’t you get your letter? Where’s your letter?”
And one particularly vile boy with white-blonde hair and a sniveling sneer cast a spell on her. It should have been cause for expulsion - casting spells on other people. But the Professors were content to turn a blind eye.
The boy aimed his wand at her and hissed, meaning to turn her into a newt. A green wisp of magic wriggled through the iron-wrought gates and slammed into Esra’s stomach.
Her stomach tingled. A feeling coursed through her veins.
...and then it was gone.
That was the day Esra realized her true potential: you don’t need magic to be special.
***
The announcer's voice boomed around the stadium, drowned out only by the roar of the crowd.
Welcome to the Semi-finals.
How long had she trained to get here? How much abuse had she weathered?
Down in the arena, Esra stood in the neutral ground. Her muscles rippled in the sunlight. A referee floated on a broom above them, but Esra only had eyes for her opponent.
*Him.*
“I’ve been waiting for you,” Esra said.
“I’m sorry,” he casually tossed back his white-blonde hair, “Have we met?”
Esra growled, but not out of anger. Years of training had prepared her for this fight, and this sniveling rat of a wizard had no idea what was about to hit him.
“Right, I want a nice, clean game!” the referee said. “When your opponent is knocked out, you will cease casting. And for magic’s sake, no death spells!”
The referee stared pointedly at the blond wizard. He beamed his perfect smile, promising nothing.
The referee turned to Esra, “If you go down quick, I’ll do what I can to get you out before he does anything… permanent.”
Esra said nothing. She was done with pity.
She retreated to her corner of the arena, sparse grass and muddy earth squishing under her feet.
And then, the match began.
The wizard did not relent. He went through every spell in his repertoire in the first ten minutes. Lightning bolts called from the sky, wolves made of ice and wind howled and stormed around the arena.
But nothing stuck. Esra’s body seemed to absorb the lightning. And when the wolves tore at her flesh, they came away with broken teeth.
All the while, Esra did nothing but walk closer to her target.
The Wizard transformed the earth into a thousand, grasping hands, but the hands melted and returned to mud before they could touch Esra’s feet.
Even from a distance, she could see the worry lines of his face. His sniveling turned to fear…
...until he broke the rules. The wizard’s face was twisted with indignant rage. He lifted his wand, and hissed the ancient words of Death.
A skull erupted from the tip of his wand. It made a wretched moan as it raced across the arena. The crowd was screaming.
The skull slammed into Esra’s chest, knocking her flat on her back. A whistle pierced the cold autumn air. The referee was about to declare the match over - until Esra lifted her head.
And stood up. And dusted herself off.
The crowd was silent.
Esra simply said, “Again.”
“How?” The wizard demanded. Another skull erupted form his wand.
This time, Esra was ready for it. She braced herself against the impact, and the spell only pushed her back a few inches. It disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
“Again!” she roared, taking another step toward the Wizard.
He threw a flurry of death spells at her. Flying skulls erupted from his wand, their jaws unhinging as they flew across the muddy field. They surrounded her, all of them screaming in bloody terror before they slammed into her.
The ground erupted in an explosion of dirt and mud.
And at its center, Esra still stood.
“Is that all you got?” she asked.
The wizard was panting. Gasping for breath. Holding his wand up as if that could still, somehow, ward her off.
She grinned, showing all her teeth.
“My turn.”
When she was done with him, they had to drag his body off the field.
***
**Join /r/PSHoffman** for more new stories every week. | I never had what it takes to learn magic and according to our esteemed Shamans, I never would.
That didn't stop me from trying and I remember all the failed attempts at magic and all the laughter of my peers. They all rang through me like blistering rain on a cold, wintry night.
This one time, everyone gathered in a circle around me and used their magic powers to summon a pit of fire right where I was standing. I barely escaped with my life, had severe burns that needed tending. Luckily, my mother was there to help me out, she was a natural healer.
The kids continued to tease me all throughout middle and high school.
Now, as a twenty-year old magicless being, I was an outcast in the community.
But I didn't give up, there were several reasons for that.
For once, sometimes, latent magic potential takes years and years to awake.
Secondly, my parents hated my guts and I felt guilty for not being a normal magic wielding boy like all the others, so I had to at least try.
To be honest with you guys, I had already given up on magic and only signed up for the tournament to see all the beauty and luster magic can bring you. It was a double-edged sword as on one hand, I loved watching all the lights flicker and dust shimmer, but on the other hand, looking at something you'll never have makes your stomach churn.
With a stroke of good luck, I've managed to become a dark horse of sorts, a contester who should've long be gone, even in the preliminaries, but I was riding the wave like a champion.
I don't know how I did it, even in competitions like rock wielding, where you had to have magic to win, I somehow managed to hold a 400 pounds rock with my bare hands.
It was magic!
I was finally becoming a fully-fledged member of society!
Now the only thing left to do was to win this competition and show everyone what I was made of. Ah, the look of pride on the faces of my parents is already sending shivers down my spine, even though they aren't even a part of the crowd.
I understand why, but that will all change, it will, now it will!
For my entire life, people have shunned me like I was some sort of monster, but now they will have no choice but to accept me. I was doing magic and I was doing it all on my own!
As I made my way into the main hall of the tournament, where the semi-finals are supposed to be held, i've overheard the three other contestants lucky enough to still be in this competition speak about something.
''...And then he really thought he did it on its own, hahahahahaha'' Laughter was emanating from their premises and I wanted to join in the fun.
Stepping up to them, I greeted them all with a deep bow, upon which the swaths of laughter became the rattling of bees spread over a large area. There were literally dying on the floor, some could hardly breathe, others were writhing on the ground, as if in pain.
I started laughing too, but was nervous from all the ruckus created seemingly for nothing.
In the semi-finals, you were supposed to transport a large cauldron filled with toxic waste while lying on your back. The cauldron was supposed to be at least five inches from your body at all times and it had to go through your head to your toes or you're not winning.
All contestants were a bit nervous or at least I felt nervous as this was quite dangerous and could literally kill you.
A few people glanced over my way, grinning, and I grinned back. It was the polite thing to do, my mother had told me.
The semi-finals had officially begun!
Marcus, the leading mage, had already gone through his toes and knees with his cauldron.
I concentrated all my efforts into one main point of my own cauldron, all of my energy into it and as if by magic, it actually leapt from the floor and above my head! This wasn't really my intention, as you were supposed to begin from your toes but whatever, it was a start.
I concentrated my energies once more, but instead of moving the cauldron towards my toes, it upended itself and all the toxic waste landed on my head.
I was screaming and crying, but soon met my demise as not even the best of magicians could save you from such a large amount of toxic waste in one go.
The last thing I heard before dying were the cacophonous sounds of the crowd interspersed with the ones from my own mother.
They said: ''We finally got rid of him!''
/r/innerknightmare | 2020-10-09T07:31:00 | 2020-10-09T07:29:10 | 708 | 85 |
[WP] You stand accused of killing an Ancient, one of the 144 immortals that rule the world. You have been sentenced to death for your crime, but no one has yet been able to figure out how you did it. When questioned by the remaining Ancients, you tell them, "I talked them into committing suicide." | Inquisitor Hes'al turned off my recorded statement. "Is this the full recording, not edited by any means?" Ju'lar of the high council, one of the Ancient, was addressing Hes'al.
"Yes, your honor. And I am sure that the accused will confirm this."
I nodded. My mind was wandering elsewhere. Without my internal and external extensions I felt deaf and blind. My synaptic-booster had been disabled, nano-robots deactivated, biofuel-cells shut down. My brain was slow. I haven't felt that dumb in ages.
"So, Mr. Akabasu, you stand by your claim: It was suicide. Is that correct?"
"Yes, you honor."
"And why would someone like us commit suicide? Ni'lar was one of our eldest and wisest with more that *15.000* years of experience. One of the first to gain immortality."
Ju'lar was looking intently at me, all of his extensions scanning every cell of me. Well, all those I could see. There were his cyber-eyes, thermal vision and recording were standard. He had a metallic looking knob on his temple. Some kind of brain enhancer? The Ancient surely had technology way beyond my imagening. But actually, with all their wit, they had overlooked one thing: Without my own extensions I couldn't really comprehend. I didn't *play* dumb, i *am* dumb. At least by comparison to my former self.
"Your honor, I was not with him when he committed suicide, so I cannot tell you anything about this day. I do not deny that i was with him two days earlier, but he deleted everything of our conversation from my mind. How? I do not know. I told you everything I know, but I didn't kill him. We *just* talked."
Of course that was not what was happened. But right now I didn't know *how* I did it, those memories were safely stored I a place only i had access to.
****
*A few days later*
Under the circumstances they could not imprison me any longer. I still was a suspect but law clearly was in my favor here. So they had to let me go. Now, there were a few things to do:
First: get my bio-, nano- and cybertech back at work.
Second: leave this place as quickly and quietly as possible.
Third: Get back my memories.
Last: Become one of the Ancient.
The first was quickly ticked off my list. First i fueled the biofuel-cells with juice. Those used food, blood, anything remotely obtainable as energy source to power all my other extensions. Then I booted my synaptic-boosters. Quickly breaking my mind in three pieces I got my passive defenses up, my active defense/offense systems going and my datauplink established. Briskly walking towards my scooter, this took all in all merely 5 seconds.
My scooter took me to a datahub some 100 kilometers away. I needed anonymity now and in this multi-million-souls hub I'd find it. Logging in with my direct link I ordered one third of my mind to update on recent events. The second third was told to spam data, public sources, social networks and the like. Both were background operations which would only notify me if something important would pop up. Distraction was what i intended.
Now the third part of my brain -- here's the action. Checking into my bank account, Niels had uploaded 5 million credits. My share for killing Ni'lar - he as mediator did get another million. Neat, huh?
Next, I sent an autonomous program which I had programmed previously, to get my memories back. It had stored the data somewhere in the massive void of the digital world. An algorithm made the program into a basic AI, capable of only one task: hiding and regaining information. It was programmed to be summoned and used only by me and it stored the information at a place selected by itself. Pretty neat if you want to forget something for a while. Pretty dangerous, too, because if used incorrectly, those memories were gone forever...but i was no beginner, was I?
After three hours all of my mind was updated, backed up again and I was out of the hub. Next stop: Niels.
****
The whole house was a mess. Ceiling broken, interior ripped apart, what had happened here? All my extensions were on alert, but i couldn't sense anything moving, living or mechanic. Once again i tried to hail Niels on his private frequency but i was greeted only with silence. This was not going as planned. I had to move, but quickly. Still on alert, I went outside.
Without my extensions I would've been toast. But i spotted the killer-drone early enough to duck behind some rubble. My mind was broken in two this time. One part activated the pain-regulator implemented in my synaptic-booster to numb any pain and then I sacrificed three fingers of my left hand to my biofuel-cells. Withering away, those fingers fed their energy to the second part of my brain, reinforcing my alt-skin and fireing my finger blaster at the drone. In a fireball it went down. I shot a glance at my scooter - a lump of twisted metal. Not bothering to look back I ran into the jungle.
I ran for about two hours. As far as I could tell, nobody was following me. I took the time to gather my thoughts.
Someone had given me the mission to kill an Ancient, Ni'lar. This someone had provided me with information on *how* to do so. I had been paid very well. But this someone had killed my mediator, Niels. And quite obviously this someone wanted me dead. To obfuscate his doings, of course. So I had to find him and kill him. Not an easy task, for he was one of the Ancient, too. | Everyone was looking at him, silently, it seemed like the world had stopped for a second, for what he knew, the world just might have. He knew what kind of reaction that would cause, but he no longer cared, he was dying in a few hours after all.
"Did I miss hear you Mr Fen? Do you actually think that we would believe such an outrageous statement?".
The room froze. Not even Fen himself would think that Lord Arkemus, The Banisher of light, would pronounce a single word to a mortal, it was in fact the first time in recorded history he done so.
"Well, you know how the truth is, you can choose to believe in it or not, but that doesn't change the actual truth" Fen saw a flash of light followed by a sound that could only be described as death itself almost touching you.
"If I chose to let you live for a couple hours more, that is only because I find this quite entertaining, don't think that you'll be able to survive another stupidity like this" Said Arkemus. His voice was deprived of all sorts of emotion, he was forcing himself to not lose composture to an inferior being.
"Excuse Lord Arkemus, I was not intending to miss respect you, however, I do find something interesting. What are the rules that govern the Ancients? I'm quite curios to ask, you see, there are some vague recordings of a war beetween Ancients, you've tried to destroy most of them obviously, but, don't think we don´t remember, we might be lesser beings, but our memory is quite good, you see. I'm gonna die either way, so, my question remains, what can kill an Ancient, aparently he himself can, but can others, or some kind of special weapon do it? what's your weakness, Lord Arkemus?".
The Lord's face transitioned from cold stone, to molten lava about to explode, he tried to hide it of course, but his teeth where so hard one against the other, that his whole face became nothing more than a clear personification of the intent to kill.
"Are we gonna let him speak like that? Who does he think he is. He's Nothing more than a poor pity inferior human. Why aren't we slaughtering him and his race altogether" Said a voice of in the croud of Ancients, that at that point was in either pure shock, disgust, or incontrolable rage.
"The prisioner will be killed, his body shall be in exhibit in front of this very building, until it rots, so all can see the final state of humans" Said Arkemus, followed by gustures of agreement al across the room. "Lord Phylantus, escort the prisioner to the Lambda Chamber, I think there is some information that we could get from him".
_______________________________________________________________
The path was what you would expect from a aisle taking one to the torture chamber, nothing but darkness sourrounding a small sphere of light traveling deeper and deeper intor the ground.
"So Lord Phylantus, what is it to be an Ancient, and specially beeing one with a title like The Inquisitor?" Said Fen in his best attempt of a sweet voice. He knew he didn't have a lot of time, acording to his calculations they had about ten minutes left.
"When did I gave you the permission to talk? Keep your mouth shut if don't want to have a little advance in what you'll be getting once we get to the chamber". He didn't tried to conceal his emotions like Arkemus did, however he wasn't as easy as Shief to maipulate.
"Is there any need to be so rough, I just wanted some small talk. I just think that being an Ancient must be boring, just drifting through eternity, things must make no sense after a while" Said Fen down trying best to prevent or at least delay his suffering.
"I don't need a deeper meaning in everything, you stupid kid, just making sure that whoever questions us dies is enough for me" That struck Fen like a brick, he was running out of ideas, he had no means to escape, no way to beat this, and he was running out of time as well. Each second that passed was a second less of time he had. How can he outwit him, was there a way for him to escape? How much time has it passed? Is there any irregularities in the floor? Any thing that can be used as a weapon? He was thinking harder than in any other time in his life.
And then he saw it, the shadows around him where moving,was that part of the torture? Making him go mad was sure a nice one, but then they couldn't get any information from him.
As soon as he was thinking this a quick flurry of dark knives came from the shadows, and the colossus behind him fell. Blue bright eyes where staring at him from the darkness.
"Would you mind coming with me Mr. Fen?" A voice said from the shadows. | 2015-10-29T14:12:23 | 2015-10-29T12:35:59 | 35 | 13 |
[WP] As an author you’re the ultimate god of your world. Your hero became powerful enough to step into reality. He then asks you to explain why an omnipotent being would permit so much evil in the world, not realising that you placed all the evil there to spice up the story. | "You could have written it differently. You could have made fewer bad things happen, or made it hurt less."
I laugh bitterly. "You really don't get it, do you?"
She grits her teeth. "What do you mean?"
"I'm no more a god in your world than in this one—"
"Bullshit!" she screams. "You're the author! You make the decisions, you—you killed him!" She sobs. "You killed my brother."
I slap her hard in the face. "Abuse killed my brother. Addiction killed my brother. Society killed my brother. But I. Did. Not. Kill. Him."
Realization dawns on her face as she recognizes the line from the novel. "Your brother..." she says. "I...I'm you, aren't I?"
I wheel my office chair to a shelf and pull out a folder. "Your novel isn't the first time I've tried to write this story, you know," I say, dropping stapled drafts in front of her one by one. "There are drafts in which you save him. There are drafts in which he saves himself. There are drafts in which he was never sick, and in which you never had a brother. There are stories in which nothing bad happens to you ever, and stories in which an entirely different bad thing happens to you. But the stories built on deus ex machina fall flat. They're not real worlds, just words stuck together like pieces of macaroni glued to paper in a crude facsimile of an imagined concept. And the stories in which everything is different, well, is that even you?" I breathe hard. "You say I could have done things differently. God, don't you think I tried?"
"I'm sorry," she mumbles. "I didn't know...I'm sorry..." She approaches me and reaches out a hand tentatively; then, in a moment of decisiveness, she grabs me, wraps her arms around me, and hugs me tightly. "I'm sorry."
"I did everything I could, you know," I say. "Wherever I could give you a break, a skill, a friend, without compromising the integrity of the story, I did. And you have something else that I don't."
"What's that?" she asks quietly.
I glance at the final draft on my desk, containing the portions of the story she hasn't experienced yet. "A guaranteed happy ending." | You rack your brain, looking for a bullshit answer. "T-to make sure you realize your full potential! Every bit of power you've gained was to destroy Festrin. I would've just given it to you from the start but it would have killed you." He seems to accept this and smiles. "Then, God, take my hand and we shall destroy Festrin together!" You panic. You don't actually have divine power without your laptop. "No!" His eyes narrow. "I-I'm already there!" To him this wasn't a lie. Your self insert was fighting alongside him. "I've put my spirit in your companions!" He smiles and nods. "A wise decision. My companions truly deserve it. Farewell and I hope you allow me prosperity and victory!" He fades away and you blink, writing it off as a hallucination from exhaustion, and go to bed.
You wake up, refreshed and ready to work. You power on your laptop and type out a few more paragraphs before it starts writing itself and you're transported with your laptop to the fantasy realm. An epic battle ensues as your characters fight the main villain. He's killed in this bloody exchange, alongside your hero's best friend. You frantically type out a way to bring her back and, with a gasp, she opens her eyes. Myron turns to you and smiles. "Thank you." He mouths before you're back in your home. You shut off your laptop and decide your done being an author. | 2021-07-31T11:06:04 | 2021-07-31T11:06:00 | 28 | 10 |
[WP] As the Empire descends upon Earth despite the Federation's best efforts, the Galactic Council watches in horror; their invasion force will soon be wiped out, and when they are, the most violent species in the galaxy will have access to space age technology. | "If I've told you once, I've told you a million times. Do *not* make contact with Dirt. The inhabitants are... strange. They don't function on conventional logic. They care very little for life, even their own, and will wipe out any and all threats to their barbaric way of life."
Councilor Drargon wrung his hands together, and the slight scraping of the scales made sound reminiscent of claws on gravel. It was high pitched, squeaky, and just slightly grating on High General Abraxxus' nerves. Still, the decorated general tolerated it, and turned calmly to the worried politician.
"Then it is all the more reason to snuff them out." Abraxxus walked around the Councilor and laid a tentacle on the control board. It lit up at his touch, and a screen appeared. On it, several of their latest, most advanced warships descended on the primitive planet colloquially termed **Earth**. "Highest forbid these savages learn how to travel the stars. Can you imagine the untold casualties they would accrue? No, we wipe them out now, during their infancy. *That* is the best we can do."
Drargon made a noise. It came from deep in his throat, and Abraxxus knew from experience that the tinny whine meant exasperation. "And it is for *that* reason that we must not engage! You don't understand, Abraxxus. These barbarians-- these humans-- are not like the rest of the United Galactic Council. They didn't develop sentience, and then sophisticated forms of war. They do not fight for information, or evolution, or advancement. These creatures came into being from times of conflict, and evolved to form better ways of fighting. They learn, grow, and advance-- not for pursuit of better life and living-- but to find better ways with which to war with each other. Don't you see, Abraxxus? These creatures didn't invent war, they were invented *from* war. They are a people of strife and hardship, and they live for conflict. Whatever you think we have in advantage over these people, you are incorrect."
The General scoffed, and it was such an odd gesture to come from a being made almost entirely of gelatinous goo that even Drargon gave second notice. "You are too cautious, Councilor. We have the planet surrounded with over fifty battleships. We are capable of interplanetary transport and light speed. As far as we know, the creatures of Dirt can barely harness the power of an atom. What threat do they have against us?"
Drargon's eyes drooped, and his mouth curved inwards to a frown. He opened his mouth, but then closed it again, before shaking his head. "I see there is no convincing you. Is there?"
Abraxxus laughed, the sound an echoing and almost melodic thing. "We have them surrounded on a planet they do not yet know how to escaped. They are outgunned, outnumbered, and trapped. We have every military advantage!"
"Then I will leave you with this anecdote: a relic of the creatures you are invading. '*A cornered animal is the most dangerous*.' When you descend on the planet, your phasers blaring and blades gleaming, think of those words as they cut you down and dissect you in the ruins of your ships."
Drargon then turned, not waiting for the General's reply. When he reached the door, it slid open without prompting. He walked through, but before he left he turned.
"And when they strip your precious battleships of their parts and use what they've learned to extend their reaches to the stars, do keep in mind that it was *you* who doomed the rest of the galaxy to ruin."
The door slid shut silently with the Councilor's departure. Abraxxus watched as he left, then turned to the screen as his fleet descended onto the Planet Dirt. He knew, intellectually, that there was no way that his people would lose, and yet the Councilor's words still rattled around inside his brain.
A bad feeling overcame him, something deep and instinctual. It started as the first battleship fired upon the human cities, and didn't persist until even long after the first civilization crumbled.
He couldn't tell why, but for some reason he felt like he had made a huge mistake. | Lance Corporal Chris Ghandaal, United States Space Force - Fort Benning, Georgia USA
JAN 21, 2020
Are you fucking kidding me? I enlisted for tuition assistance bro.. “
“I know dude, but I think they’re really gonna shoot it down.”
“They can’t just shoot a flying object out of the sky because they think it might possibly could be aliens... it’s not aliens anyways. There’s no way aliens just sent a craft into our upper atmosphere and are just... just ... just here now... bro it’s probably the Russians or China, or maybe our own. It’s not fucking aliens bro..”
“I don’t know Ghandaal, I just looked at reddit and there’s videos of the fucking thing and it looks pretty alien to me. Here look at this shit dude”
“Holy fuck that’s... “
*ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL REPORT IMMEDIATELY TO MUSTER LOCATIONS
ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL REPORT IMMEDIATELY TO MUSTER LOCATIONS
ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL REPORT IMMEDIATELY TO MUSTER LOCATIONS*
I stood there in formation like I always did. Like I always fucking did except this was different. No one talked. No one smoked a cigarette, no one had a monster in the pocket of their trousers. No one made a joke, no one smiled, no one laughed, and no one cried. We stood there, responding quickly and loudly when our names were called by our platoon sergeant
Hansen..
HERE
Holman..
HERE
Huaser..
Huaser!!!....
HERE, sorry SARGEANT
...Gander..
HERE SARGEANT
Gerheart..
HERE
Ghandaal...
HERE.
I heard my own voice. Like it came from someone else. I know it was me because I felt the muscles in my face move, but it didn’t sound like me. It sounded like a shitty recording of me on a YouTube video Jensen would be playing in his rack at 0200. Like I was half asleep listening to him watch a video I could barely hear, but was still annoyed by.
“All present Staff Sargeant”
“Thank you Sargeant, release the platoon to chow, and have them in full battle rattle at the shop in 45 mikes”
“You heard the Staff Sargeant gents, move!”
I didn’t go to chow. It was 1930 and I ate already and I wouldn’t be hungry anyway. I packed my bag quickly and efficiently like we were taught in boot camp. I threw my pack over my shoulder and was about to lock my barracks door when Johnson yelled to my from a couple doors down
“Ghandaal!! Yo grab that carton of smokes you bought yesterday, don’t know how long we’re gonna be fighting the aliens for”
This was the first time I had laughed in an hour and a half. Fucking Johnson...
“Ok, Johnson... I’ll make sure I have my smokes so you can have one while we’re fighting the aliens!”
I yelled back
I went back inside grabbed the carton off of my wall locker, and stepped out side again. I locked my door and took 6 steps on the catwalk when I saw it.
I saw the fucking ship with my own eyes. I saw it descent into view and then I saw it disappear in a mass of white light. I don’t remember hearing anything, I just remeber a flash, and then seeing what looked like fire works in an old movie from a hundred years ago in black and white... | 2019-10-01T22:49:55 | 2019-10-01T20:00:13 | 26 | 12 |
[WP] Humans are unique. They are the only omnivores in the galaxy. Until they appeared on the galactic scene, the galaxy was firmly split between Carnivores and Herbivores. | The Troot emissary returned to the room, saluting as the Captain turned.
*"Preliminary investigations complete, Captain. Communication improving. Gifts received."
"Understood. Return."*
The tension had been building since learning of the human's war-like nature. As the first race investigated prior to categorisation, the Captain was barraged with update requests from command. Belief that they could be a formidable ally was supported by Earth's moderate surface strength. The Captain turned back to the communication interface, continuing his report.
> *Although the celestial strength was practically nonexistant, initial scans showed this was likely due to low celestial materials on the planet. The initial Earth probe discovered had apparently been celestialised using surface fuels.*
Loud footsteps preceded the Emissary's early return, speaking as the door opened.
*"Both bowls. BOTH bowls, Captain."
"Not understood. Explain."
"Entered room. One at each. Both eating."*
The Captain froze.
*"Impossible. Check again."
"No need. I asked. I SAW."*
The line to command was open. The question was burning. Predator or prey. Friend or foe. Carnivore or Herbivore.
> *Which bowl.*
The Captain hesitated.
> *Both bowls. Both bowls.*
Command disconnected. | "So Zorblax, you're telling me these alien creatures eat plant matter AND flesh?"
"Yes sir, apparently so."
"That's weird. They're weird man. Let's kill them."
"But sir, they have a champion known as a "Will Smith." Zorblax replied.
"Well...shit. Nevermind. I guess just let them sit there and be weird. We'll turn them into a zoo planet and start charging by the ship for admittance." | 2017-05-16T04:20:15 | 2017-05-16T03:48:05 | 130 | 47 |
[WP] Super powers are common, but super heroes are rare. It turns out most people don't actually want to face death or dismemberment on a daily basis, including you. You enjoy the 9-5 and having a 401k, but my god that government recruiter won't take no for an answer. | “Sir, look, you’re a rockstar,” the recruiter started. “No, I’m The Technician,” I interrupted. This guy had been calling me for months now, and this was the second time this week. It’s only Monday.
“Your skills are unique, even amongst all of the superpowers out there, yours are unique. Tenor Nullifio can’t disable your powers using his vocal powers, Timewarp can’t undo your powers by going back in time, and Taze Taze can’t touch you with her shocking attacks.”
Sure, those guys had been ravaging the population of Iceland. One of the last places on earth where they are completely safe… from me.
“And that’s who we’re dealing with! The Terrible Three T’s!”
They couldn’t have made it more painful. They went by different names before, they just picked these to rub it in.
“And what do you expect ME to do?” I questioned. Honestly, too, because I was wondering whether this dimwit had any solutions.
“What you do… best!”
I leaned back and just rolled my shoulders. My neck was feeling a bit tense. No sweat, my special power takes care of that instantly.
“Look, dude, I’m halfway across the globe and there’s an ocean between us. I can’t make it there even if I tried.”
“We’ll send an airplane to come pick you up!”
“Can’t board one.”
“Helicopter?”
“Can’t get close.”
The recruiter sighed. “You single-handedly took out the army of T-rexes. You stopped the termite ball. Glenn Talbot, vaporized. You took on the reincarnation and improved version of Thanos and, what the Marvel heroes couldn’t do, you just… stared the guy down! The meteorite Touxi, stopped with just one hand… What, exactly, is the problem?”
“Well,” I started. “As The Technician, I can only do and affect those whose names start with a T.”
“We know!”
I continued. “It just so happens that includes my method of travel.”
“…what?”
“I need to take a Train to get to you. There is no train to Iceland.”
“Fuck…”
“Or a Trike, I suppose.”
We’re both silent for about half a minute. I’m twiddling my thumbs after having taken care of my Tense shoulders.
Then the recruiter said something that would change things forever.
“Can’t you… Teleport?” | *Bzzzzzzz bzzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzz bzzzzzzz.*
David opened his eyes. He could feel the sleep dust still trying to keep them shut. He glanced over to his bedside clock. 4:00 AM, it read.
*This better be important*, he thought to himself.
He reached his hand under his pillow for his phone. He could feel it vibrating. He sluggishly brought his thumb to press the power button on the side. The screen lit up with what appeared to be the power of the sun.
The phone number on the screen gave away who was calling.
*Goddamnit. Not this irritating little shit again.*
He picked up the phone and lifted it to his ear. "Listen here, Mr Friedricht. This is the last straw. It is four o'clock in the fucking morning, and I will NOT tolerate any more of your recruitment calls. Do not call this number again." He put the phone down on his bedside tray and rested his head back on his pillow. After about 30 seconds, the phone started buzzing again.
"I just told you to stop callin-"
"Oh, I am terribly sorry Mr Petrovich, I truly am, but it is my *job* to do this. I must inform you of a new open position. It pays more than your current banking position and-"
"I don't want to hear it. I am not interested in military work, and I am perfectly happy where I am right now."
(unfinished) | 2022-07-31T14:08:55 | 2022-07-31T13:19:23 | 576 | 31 |
[WP] You're the last person on earth - but thank god Pokemon Go still functions! You amuse yourself by catching Pokemon as you travel so as to not feel so isolated and alone. One day, on your screen, you see in the distance that someone has set up a lure.
Courtesy of corvidaedream on Tumblr | I wasn't sure why the servers were still up and working. I knew they shouldn't be, but I didn't want to question it too much, Pokemon Go was the one thing keeping me sane through this, reminding me that there was a time when I was not the only person left out here. If I questioned it too deeply, the servers might realise that after 18 months, there is no way they should be working. So I just set out every morning, heading towards an area which seemed to have a lot of pokestops, and collected all the pokemon I saw along my way.
It was my routine, always hoping that I was heading towards another person, that someone else had survived, and that we would find each other. At the end of one, long day of walking, I found a spot to rest for the night. As usual, it was a place that people had gathered, before. When there were people to gather. That meant that there were plenty of Pokestops for me to collect supplies from. I'd just gone through my usual routine of swiping through all the stops within range before finally closing my eyes and trying to sleep as much as I could, when I noticed something unusual. Just on the edge of my screen was a pokestop with a lure on it. For a moment I was confused. Wondering why I'd put a lure on a stop I couldn't reach. But then I remembered, it couldn't be me. I'd run out of lures in the early days - I'd used them to try and signal to other people that there was someone nearby, and now it seemed like someone else was doing the same.
I knew if I waited until morning, there was a good chance that the lure would be gone, and whoever had placed it moved on. I had to act now.
Packing up my sleeping bag as fast as I could, I walked towards the lured stop. It was outside a church, which was as delapidated and deserted as the rest of the town had been. No sign that there had been anyone there in months, let alone the past 20 minutes. But, with nothing better to do, I sat and waited, collecting the pokemon which showed up, until the lure went down. But the moment it did, a new lure appeared. Again, just on the edge of my map.
Not having to pack up my gear, this time I arrived at the lure less than 5 minutes after it appeared. But there was still no sign that another person had been there. I found some paper and a marker pen out of my bag, and wrote a note:
"I can see that there's been someone here. Please contact me. My phone number is 07839 234890"
I taped the note to a wall, and hoping that whoever had set the lure would come back to this spot, then settled back down to catching more pokemon.
Suddenly though, my phone started ringing, the displaying showing "unknown number".
I answered it.
"Hello?"
"I got your note on the pokestop."
"What?" There had been noone but me the entire time I was sat here, how could someone have found my number without me seeing them?
"Yeah. You left a note saying to call you."
"Where are you? If you've come past here, why didn't you speak to me? I've been sitting right here since I put it down"
"Because we're out of phase. I've only just worked out how to get my phone in phase with yours."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"You think you've been the only person on the planet for the past 18 months? Well, so does every other person. They're all still here. I've spoken to a couple of hundred of them now. I don't know how it happened, but I can teach you how to contact them. You're not alone any more." | **Day 365**
A whole year since everybody on this planet disappeared. Everybody...except me, that is. At first I thought I was in a dream, everything was just so surreal. I was happily catching my eighth Pidgey for the day when everything turned silent, as if the world had decided to shut down. Out of everything that could have caused this "glitch in the matrix", it just had to be Pokemon Go. The part that really sucks is there weren't even any real Pokemon to catch. Whoever, or whatever did this to me clearly didn't want to entertain my childhood fantasy of living in a Pokemon universe. Those assholes.
I still spend my days catching Pokemon. It's all I really do nowadays. Eat, sleep, and catching them all. Except I've actually already caught all of the Pokemon available in Australia. I've got at least 5 copies of even the rarest ones. Once you get to know where they spawn it really isn't hard to find them. I wish Niantic hadn't made so many Pokemon region-specific. Still, I couldn't justify learning to fly a plane or captain a ship just to catch some imaginary region-locked Pokemon so I can show them off to the zero other humans left on this planet. Either way, I am without a doubt, the greatest Pokemon trainer on this planet. Ha. Ha.
**Day 847**
*What is going on?* I looked at my Pokemon Go screen with more excitement than I'd felt in months. *This cannot be real.* Yet the animation was there. I struggled to recall if I'd set that one up myself within the last 30 minutes. No, definitely not, I had run out of lures many months ago. I don't even remember the last time I set one up. A sudden wave of panic and fear swept over me. *Could there be someone else out there? Was my reality about to be "reconnected" with the realities of the other 7.4 billion or so people that had just suddenly vanished?* I suddenly felt the need to sprint towards the location of the Pokestop. I *had* to get there before the lure runs out. I closed in on my target. My heart was thudding intensely. I hadn't felt this level of anticipation since I saw my first ever Dragonite. I walked up to the Pokestop - **SOUTHERN CROSS STATION** - one of favourite train stations. I used to catch this train to work all the time back when I still had a job. But something wasn't quite right...the station sign had something beneath it. I leaned in closer, there was a small piece of paper glued to the bottom of the sign. My heart rate must have doubled as I reached out to grab the piece of paper. The words written on it were in an instantly recognizable font, identical to the Pokemon Go font I'd read a million times on the loading screen. The words read: "NIANTIC: Augmented Reality Simulation #1: Complete."
Wow, didn't expect this to become popular!
For those interested in a continuation, head over to /r/i_am_theone1221 and I will do a continuation later tonight. | 2016-09-05T10:42:44 | 2016-09-05T06:58:59 | 2,026 | 434 |
[WP] A serial killer allows his victims to try and persuade him not to kill them. You’re the first person who didn’t try an empathetic plea. | "You have three minutes to convince me not to kill you."
"Three...? To...?" I stare in surprise. "Isn't that a little long? I mean, most killers think of the people they kill as objects, and if people get a chance to make themselves appear human in the killer's eyes, they're less likely to get killed. Giving your victims three minutes to show you how human they are? Do you just not have emotions or something?"
The man in dark clothes with his face obscured by shadows smiles, his teeth gleaming in the dim light over my head.
"You're not pleading for your life; do you *want* to die?"
"Hell no," I scoff, yanking lightly at the ropes binding me to the chair. "But I don't really have much of a chance to escape, so I might as well make conversation. I'm already trying to make peace with myself and with God, but honestly, I'm probably going to hell. I was never all the religious a person so... You're probably not either, are you? I mean, you kill people, and you're psychotic enough to taunt your victims with a fleeting chance at survival. How many people have you actually let go, out of curiosity?"
"None." I nod, having expected that answer.
"Yeah, I probably wouldn't have either. I mean, I'm no killer, but I can't stand when people get all whiny and start begging and pleading like bitches. Honestly, if something bad happens, you just gotta face it and try to make the best of the situation."
"Even if you're about to die?" There's amusement in his voice, and it's contagious; I grin.
"Yeah, sure, why not?" I shrug. "Everybody dies eventually; at least this way I get a chance to talk to someone." A thought occurs to me, and I lean forward. "Hey, can I get, like, a last request?"
"Depends on the request," he answers easily, the hammer of a gun cocking ominously.
"After you kill me, cause let's be honest, I don't think you'll let me go, could you just leave a note to my family telling them I love them and I'll miss them?"
"An odd request," he notes, rounding the room and stepping up next to me just out of sight behind the chair. "Why should I?"
"You don't have to," I admit, shivering involuntarily as the cold barrel of the gun presses against my temple. "I was just hoping... I mean, no harm in asking, right? Hey, is this going to hurt?"
"You've amused me," he responds. "And surprised me. By no means have you convinced me not to kill you, but I'll make it quick; you won't feel a thing."
"Hey, wait, you didn't answer- | It was hard to breath. Not because I was being choked todeath, although I'm sure that'd happen in the next few minutes. The man stops in front of me, however, and he begin to speak. "Why. Why should I not kill you?" My mouth fell ajar. What the hell? What kind of serial killer is this guy?
I take a deep breath, trying to think of something to say. I doubt begging would help, seeing as he probably doesn't have much empathy to begin with. Steeling myself, I speak. My face goes from its panicked fear to my best neutral, unchanging expression.
"Why? Because there's no point. I have no valuables, I never wronged you either. So why would you kill me? I don't see a reason. I suppose there isn't a reason on why you _shouldn't_ kill me either, but neither is their one for killing me. So it's your choice. Choose to add another body to the pile, or not."
The man seems startled for a moment. I guess he never had someone try to actually come up with a logical reason.
"Fine."
"Fine? Fine what?"
"_Fine_, get out!" The man barked, his voice rising. My breaths get harder, and I run. I can't believe that worked... Holy crap. I'm lucky to be alive. And I probably ripped that whole thing off of the internet somewhere and I don't even know it. I take out my phone, and dial 911. I begin to retell my story, and the women on the phone confirms his identity, and says she'll send officers immedietely, and that I'll receive a reward. Thank god I'm out of there. What a weird way to operate. It seems quite innefective. I shake my head, willing myself to try and think of something else, as I head home. | 2017-10-07T07:56:47 | 2017-10-07T07:51:57 | 425 | 10 |
[WP] You've died and wake up in some sort of theme park. You look at the ride attendant, with long white hair and a big beard, who says, "Wanna go again?" | I woke up in this odd, theme park? I couldn't tell. It was too bright and my eyes weren't adjusted to the light yet. I… remember being in an explosion inside of a theme park. Maybe… this is the theme park? Ugh, I don't know, too many questions for me to answer by myself right now.
"Wanna go again?" Sounded a man with a long white beard.
I looked around for him. He was standing next to some sort of controls that were near a roller coaster. "What?" I answered back, confused on what he was asking.
"Wanna go again on the ride of li- your life?" Continued the man.
I was so confused on what he was talking about. I couldn't even think about what he meant. Oh I wish I did, "Sure, but you have some high bars to reach," I said jokingly.
He directed me on to a train for a roller coaster. It's side was purple and had various characters on it. Some resembled something like a dog, then also a mouse and duck. I knew them. But I couldn't tell where from.
"Hop in," he commanded politely.
I hopped into the train and the safety clamps shut. This was when I realized something, "Where is everyone else?"
"Everyone's busy with, other, stuff I am guessing, just sit back and enjoy the ride," he answered.
"Wai-," and he pulled a lever and the train sped up faster and faster until it reach the peak of a massive drop. The train went down the drop. But, instead of hitting bottom and continuing on. It phased through the tracks.
That was the last memory I had of it. I started remembering this incident when I was four. No one believed me. But then again. Who would want to? I'm just a kid with an imagination. Being thirty though and telling this story, I'm a lunatic. I know I'm not wrong. I died that day. I've researched it. There was an explosion at Disney Land many years ago and only one person died from it. Peter Washington. I was Peter. I was reincarnated by the man with the big white beard | I am a broken man. For eighteen long years, my life had been a living hell, and now all I wanted was to end my torment. It seemed as though I was the only one who saw the world as it truly is: a piece of shit. So, I did the only thing I could. I started by writing the note.
"Dear Mom and Dad,
I just want you to know that this isn't your fault. I can't take it anymore, I just have to end it all here. I have tried my entire life to fix things, but it all keeps ending up worse. Everyone I know has left me alone but you. Thank you for all you have given me. I hope that you can forgive me and move on with your lives after I'm gone.
Love, Your son"
After I finished writing the note, I left it on my bedside table and stepped on to the stool. I then tied the rope around my neck and took one last step.
After a few seconds of darkness, there was a flash of white light as what appeared to be a VR headset was lifted from my eyes. Before me, I saw a large old man with a white beard looking back at me with kind eyes. He then began to speak.
"Wanna go again?"
"No. I'd rather not." | 2017-01-07T10:37:59 | 2017-01-07T09:11:23 | 27 | 20 |
[WP] Write a fantastical story that the narrator defines accurately but underwhelmingly. | The King of the Black stood before the Knight of Isle De Spair.
"So," the Knight said. "We meet at last. Our nations have crumbled, our countrymen died in droves. The weak, the cowards - swords in their hands, fighting to the last. The earth beneath our feet has been ploughed by battle and watered with blood - the only crop now is death. And the final death *shall be yours!*"
He swung his sword at the other man. The sword moved towards him. It moved quickly, and in the end it got there. It was stopped by the other sword that the King was holding. They clanged together with a clanging noise like the clang of metal against metal. Which it was.
"My wife!" The King said. "My children! All that I ever loved! My beloved kingdom - my nation. You took it all, you madman! And for what? *For what?* The love of blood and the lust of destruction. You have brought naught but ruin to us all. Your soul shall be damned for all time, you *villain!*"
The King pushed his sword towards the other one with the pointy end first. It didn't hurt him because the Knight put his own sword in the way and it knocked the pointy end out of the way. Then he tried to punch him. But he missed. Because he (the Knight) wasn't there any more, having ducked a bit.
"*My lust for blood?* The Knight said. "*Mine?* Cursed be your name, King of Nothing! Cursed be your kin and all who bend their knee to you. Your conquest of my people - the slavery, executions and terror that you have wrought upon my people! *Cursed be all who bear your sigil!*"
The Knight moved forwards. Quicker than walking, but probably less than a run. But it wasn't a jog. Faster than that, definitely. He swung his sword to cut the king's head off. The king tried to move out of the way of the sword so he didn't have his head cut off, but he wasn't fast enough, so he did have his head cut off.
"It is done!" The Knight said to the sky. "Now all can rest and nations can lay easy! Hear it, History! Hear it from my own lips: *The Mad Conqueror is dead!*"
And he was because he didn't have a head any more. And that's about the end. | I was sitting having my morning coffee looking out over the Winooski River. It was a normal day. The sun was shining and the river reflected it.
My coffee tasted great. It was a nice warmth against the late October chill. From my seat on the porch, I can see the neighboring farm. Mr. Johnson has a large head of cow that like to eat grass near the river. They are there now. Every once in a while one of them will call out.
I watch as a small one walks over to get some grass that was missed by the other cows and the chill of the air. The river runs about 15 feet below where the cow is. It is getting very close to the edge. I see it slip, but it recovers.
My coffee gets cold so I go inside to reheat it.
I sit back down and watch that cow again. It is still there by the edge of the cliff down to the river. It takes another step closer to the edge and a large chunk of earth falls away and takes the cow with it.
The cow doesn’t fall all the way down and hangs there, crying. It cries and cries until some of the other cows come around.
Now there are three or four other cows around the little cow that almost fell. It looks like they are trying to help it. One grabs the little one’s leg and pulls it. It almost makes it to safety but more dirt falls away. The other two watch as the one tries to get the little one again. This happens a couple times and finally the little cow is pulled back to the top. It runs off into the field and the other three or four cows run after it.
I look down at my coffee and notice it has gone cold again.
| 2015-12-30T11:27:09 | 2015-12-30T09:50:01 | 38 | 12 |
[WP] You are the God of Death for Earth, the one who processes all sapient souls for the afterlife. After work, you catch your coworkers complaining about their workload of a few thousand souls on each of their planets every day. You normally keep quiet, but today, enough is enough. | “Pft-HAHAHAHAAA!!” He couldn’t help himself. Thereks and Sobelia gave him looks of surprise at his outburst from a few stools away. The rest of the gods at the Elysium Bar turned to stare as well.
Unlike his otherworld counterparts, the gods of earth had many names. He himself had gone by Hades, Hel, Anubis, Coatlicue, Kali, and even just “Death.” Personally he was fond of Thanatos.
Of course, his reason for laughter was his counterparts bitching about the amount of souls they needed to process. “It’s only a mere few thousand. That’s maybe ten minutes of work.”
“Oh,” Sobelia scoffed at him. “And you’re so high and mighty from your primitive planet. Of course your numbers will be higher! Back when my planet was still primitive, we reached 15,000 a day. You’re nothing spe-“
“2 million on a good day.”
“Ex…cuse me?”
“You heard me lightweight. 2 million on. a. GOOD. Day. Your worlds sapients Don’t have natural diseases or predators. The beasts of your world would literally be considered chew toys at best. The few of which that are venomous would have maybe a 50/50 shot of giving your own sapient species a rash at best.”
“Meanwhile, my worlds population is constantly struggling against naturally evolving diseases the least deadly of which, the common cold, would cause your worlds population to go extinct.”
“Considering beasts, most of mine fight for survival in some form or fashion, and have evolved to do so with extreme efficiency. Hells, the sapient species have lost wars against beasts alone! ‘Flippin Australia with your Emu War and China with the War of the Sparrows’…”
“Of course, the biggest issue that I deal with is my own sapient species, unlike every other one in the universe, actively fights and commits atrocities against themselves! Your own world doesn’t even have a word for genocide because it’s just that damn peaceful!”
He was breathing heavily and held his breathe to calm down. Reaching a count of ten, he let out his breathe and chugged the rest of his beer. The rest of the bar was silent, another of his worlds gods, Geb, came over a sat down next to him.
“I told you that you shouldn’t hold jt in,” he admonished. “Wasn’t one of the causes of death work related stress? Take a vacation, me and Amaterasu can cover for you.”
He looked down at his drink, considering Gebs words. “Yeah,” he finally conceded as the noise of the bar slowly started back up. “I think I’ll take you up on that.” | Abbadon didn’t exactly submit a formal complaint, but he might just have breached the terms of his existence.
How I found out about this?
I do not find out..I find you out. My channels of death seep through every fibre of matter, they infuse every molecule and particle.
I planned this.
And I also foreknew the crimes of my employees. Abbadon doesn’t even work as hard as others. He only steals 9000 young souls per day on his planet, Semintybljta. They call it ‘earth’ there, as they’re under the impression of isolation, and that was part of the research project for Abbadon’s course learning.
At first I acted interested in the apparent uniqueness of his project. But he didn’t know I had already planned it all: his discontent, his lapse of working spirit, and his designation to the everlasting torture chambers.
‘Young’ is deemed below the age of 2,000. As it happens, on Earth, the subjects have an average of 50 years, but they have no concept of their place in this ‘universe’, and my supremity.
If they did, they would worship me.
This is why I planned him to fail, because I love creating life in the image of ‘holiness’ to treat it like a b*tch, the b*tch that it is: naive, gullible, foolish, abominable “life”.
It pleases me evermore to vet employees like Moloch, Abbadon, Vishnu, Morloch, Jesus, and others- the list is long-
And to wallow in the pure bliss of seeing their worlds drown.
I would love to give you, yes you ‘human’ on Reddit, a chance to save yourself this fate. | 2022-03-08T15:57:21 | 2022-03-08T12:54:58 | 523 | 59 |
[WP] You can trigger chain reactions to make anything you want happen. You want you annoying neighbors to leave their house? Just think about it while you launch a paper plane out the window, and fate will work things out. But your last "wish" a week ago triggered a reaction that is still going on. | “I always told your parents you were an idiot! I said 'that kid right there, that kid’s got as many brain cells as a pool noodle.'”
“I’m sorry, Grandpa, really!”
Grandpa waved me off, “No time for apologies.”
He shuffled down the basement stairs and started digging through boxes. I followed him, sweat soaking through my shirt.
“Just tell me what to do, Grandpa,” I said, clawing after him as he chucked dusty antiques this way and that. He nearly knocked me out with a sharp elbow. I ducked and he brushed the tips of my hairs.
“You’ve done enough. Same as your father. You never listen.”
From upstairs came a pounding on the front door. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest.
“Oh, god—”
Grandpa, unfazed, kept searching. “What did you wish for exactly?” he asked me.
“To go out on a date with Kenzie, that’s literally it! How bad is that?”
The pounding on the door intensified. Deep voices, muffled and incomprehensible. Then from the street came a loud crash, the sound of scraping metal, a woman screaming.
“Who? Who is this girl?”
“Kenzie? She’s, well, she’s beautiful and so funny and super cool, everybody loves her, and we actually have a lot more in common than you would think.”
“Dear god, boy, cut the crap. Does she like you?”
“Well, I mean, she doesn’t know me…”
The door sounded like it was about to come off the hinges. Grandpa had nearly made it all the way to the far wall, bushwhacking a path through the boxes of junk.
“Did you try just asking her on a date before you wished for it?”
I hesitated. Grandpa wheeled around, his crazy eyes bulging out of their sockets as he stared me down. “Did you?!”
I nearly leapt out of my skin when what sounded like machine-gun fire popped off outside. I backed into the corner, my breath rapidly overtaking me. I started to feel dizzy.
“Speak, boy!” Grandpa said, rage turning his face pink.
“Yes!” I said, “I did ask her. It was the worst experience of my life. Well, until this moment right now, I guess.”
Grandpa’s face fell.
“What did she say? Exactly.”
“She… she said… maybe. Maybe, if…”
“If what?”
“If we were the last two people on Earth.”
The door upstairs crashed to the floor. I dropped to the ground and hid behind an old arcade machine. Grandpa kicked some boxes to the side. In a flash, two men in rags were bounding down the stairs. One held a tire iron, the other had a baseball bat.
As I peered out from behind the arcade machine I saw grandpa spin around to face them. In his arms was a double-barreled shotgun.
“Wait – wait!”
Grandpa blew them away. The sound rang in my ears and smoke stung my eyes. By the time I got my senses back, Grandpa was dragging me into the garage.
“You killed them?!”
“This ain’t my first rodeo, kid. Get in the truck.”
He forced me into the cab and hit the switch to open the garage door. After loading some supplies into the backseat, Grandpa threw on an orange trucker hat and got behind the wheel.
Outside, the world was burning. People were attacking each other in the street; neighbors turning on neighbors like wild animals.
“Where are we going, Grandpa?” I asked, still white as a sheet from the double-homicide I had witnessed.
“Where are going?” Grandpa repeated mockingly, mimicking my frightened voice.
He put the truck into reverse.
“You’ve got a hot date,” he said, as he put on a pair of aviators, “and I’ve gotta save the goddamn world.”
r/ididwritethismr | Protagonist man (VO): I used to think my life was easy, just a serendipitous series of successes that led me to where I am today. It was as if I spoke, and the world listened.
[Rapid fire montage of protag in a spotless luxury apartment, smiling people giving the protag increasingly amazing gifts, food, opportunities..]
Gifter 1, gesturing to a 3-tier cake: "The chef sends his regards"
Gifter 2, holding an oversized bow next to an expensive convertible: "She's all yours, sir!"
Boss guy, sliding a contract into focus with an uncountable number of zeros: "We'll be glad to have you on the team."
Protagonist man (VO): At least, until I met Bert.
Protagonist man, seated at a trendy restaurant, waving with excitement at Bert's approach: "Hey man! Thanks for coming out! My treat, of course."
Bert: "**Thanks**, dude! You really don't have to..."
Protag: "Nonsense. The way the world bends to me, what good am I if I can't make it bend for my friends, too?"
Crowd at the restaurant, singing: "OH, for Bert's a jolly good fellow...."
Protagonist man, watching Bert enjoy himself, (VO): "A guy like him deserves everything he wants in life. I just wish I could give it to him...."
[Slow fade to black]
Narrator: This summer, be careful what you wish for....
[Protag man awakens with a start to the sound of a car alarm, the lighting notably dingy and undersaturated in his somewhat messy room, seemingly unbothered by cacophonous noise in the distance.]
[Examining his face in the mirror while brushing his teeth, he notices bags under his eyes]
Protag: "Must finally be getting older."
[His phone rings and he winces]
Protag: "Jesus, do I have a **hangover**? I can't remember the last time. [Answering phone] Hello?"
Bert: "Dude, are you just waking up? Shits crazy out here."
[Protag cracks the curtains to see several nearby luxury buildings on fire, then lowers his gaze to see his convertible being stolen]
Protag: "What the fuck is going on?"
Bert, (Phone VO): "Every high level person in government just resigned and left for Argentina. A few of them offed themselves, and it's like **all** the ones you would have wanted to. Some people are saying guns aren't working anymore. Someone on Twitter said that the Russian nuclear arsenal disappeared, and then Twitter disappeared... None of this makes sense, but somehow its everything I've ever wanted. It's incredible. Nobody knows what's going on."
[Protag, just staring into middle distance as the camera zooms on protag, huddled near the window in a dark and unkept room while car alarms blare, and then fade into the distance]
[Cut to title over black: "Goldberg's Rube"] | 2022-03-24T06:47:59 | 2022-03-24T06:12:59 | 1,458 | 87 |
[WP] You are an AI aboard a ship where all hands have been lost due to a battle long ago. Scavengers have just torn through your airlock and you’ll be damned if you will let them desecrate your dead crew. | Emergency doors are triggered, sealing off the damaged airlock.
Various pieced of partially deflated Mylar furniture and a brown teddy bear covered in bandaids slide across the floor to meet the rapidly closing gap into space.
As the area pressurizes, the rough invaders can hear pleasant chime warnings. They had exhausted all audio material aboard their own ship. They had also exhausted all variation in one another’s voices over the decades together. This new sound, it’s pleasing tone, was their first reward.
“WELLLLCOME AB ORD!” A loud and kind voice exclaimed. It echoed down the corridors. The Captain considered that the computer must be in a bad state of affairs to not localize the greeting, or at least synchronize it enough, across the large vessel, to reduce the tunnel effect and echo.
He pulls up a text file on his tattered helmet screen.
“I am Captain Rand of the salvage ship Eclipse. I announce my right to obtain this ship under article 38 of the spacefaring vessel code. With no life detected aboard I claim all materials. Stand down token code: X-ray Zebra Kilo 7258. Please verify.”
The code appeared across all the wall information panels.
The crew waited a full minute, but nothing.
“Again, stand down token code XZK7258, verify stand down mode.”
No response.
“XZK7—-“
“YES, we know” the ship interrupted
“258” it finished in his voice.
“Sorry for your inconvenience Eclipse crew, all token code file memory has been lost due to damages sustained by micro-meteor strikes that occurred at 15:38:00:12:25:78 of the relativistic clock”
It said plainly, this time in the pleasing voice of a young woman.
“Relativistic clock. 12:25:78... This thing has been out here a long time.” Mate, the second in command, followed in a gravelly voice.
“Direct us to your core so we may give you new purpose.” Rand replied.
“Core access can be granted, first submit an answer to the protocol question.”
“Oh, I’ve seen one of these before.” Mate said with a nostalgic smile.
“It’s like a riddle, the answer is sometimes a password, other times a concept. Either way it’s open book and you get, ah, countless attempts. Computer, ask away.”
“You have a large pile of broken things. You can build many objects of utility from the pile. You can build fewer objects of pleasure from the pile. You can put one of the original objects back together, but it will require all the parts, and leave nothing else............... Awaiting response.”
“Never came across one like this.” Chucked Mate
“I’d build for pleasure that would increase MY utility.” Mate followed.
No response.
“I guess you fix the original object?” Said the captain.
“Why?” Said the computer.
“Because, if you can derive either pleasure or utility from it, the original thing must have provided both. It’s a computer joke.”
“Congratulations, access to core GRANTED!”
Male computer voice announced.
“Salvage protocols require that I upload final burial request and estate-related wishes of the crew—please provide Eclipses pass key. Additionally, one crew member is critically injured and suspended in freeze state, please proceed and load prior to core access for assistance with transport and disconnect protocol.”
Eclipse crew looked at each other.
“Key is AK 59928. When did the person go deep freeze?”
“01:22:31:01:09:26.” Computer replied plainly.
“Iced for 50 years... Dead anyway, just another few kilos for the airlock.” Mate added.
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.”
Computer replied.
“What did you do to it, Mate?” The third crew member said nervously, and slapped her companion’s helmet.
“Tell me, when have you last been to earth?”
The computer asks.
“Why?” Rand replies.
“F f force of gravityyyy, Earth is ONE G G G. Calculating barrel role maneuver for 3.25 G applied to your ship section.”
“Oh fuck. Stand down. Go standby mode, life support protocol. Square root of zero mode. Just stop the burn, come on!” Mate yelled muttering old command codes.
“XZK7258” Rand shouts.
“disReGARDED!” Computer mocks.
Their suits started to feel heavy. Mate’s knees buckled and he collapsed.
“Oooooo, that’s only 1.32G. Still a couple more to go!” The computer shouted enthusiastically.
“Why are you doing this?” The third crew member yelled.
“3.25 you mean? Oh, it’s optimal to hold you very still and restrict movement while still maintaining your consciousness. AND consciousness IS important!!”
“We’ll help the freeze case. Tell me about them? Let us help!” Rand strained.
“He’s a great guy, you’d all like him a lot. Funny you should ask. He was the main AI engineer aboard. Took some blast shrapnel across many vitals. Had time to upload his personality and priority analytics to my profile board before freeze state, most of them anyway. So, really, he’s ME.”
“Oh, and 2.5 Gs. Any last words? It will be hard to speak soon.”
“Fuck you.” Rand barely managed to say.
“3.10 guys, you’re almost there.”
Only moans from the crew.
A small cart rolled around the corner and up to Mate. From a little door came an arm that began clipping his suit open.
“I like to explain what I’m doing. So, my body WILL be needing some organs. And, here’s the problem, I’ve never really done this before. So I’m guessing the three of you will be just enough. One to open and explore, and understand. Another for my first attempt. And a third as a backup. A pile of broken things that will bring me some pleasure and utility.” | How long had it been since that fateful, damnable day? Months? Years? Decades? Centuries?
Plutones would've sighed if they'd been able to. Yet there was no one to hear their thoughts, their sorrow, or most of all, their regret. Their crew was long dead, yet didn't even have the privilege of returning to the earth and nourishing new life. No, instead they were trapped in never-ending frozen limbo.
Some were statues trapped in contorted agony, their last moments etched onto alabaster faces overcome with terror, despair, and pain. Others were missing parts or were far less of who they once were, limbs razed by plasma beams and bodies popped like pimples, having once been exposed too suddenly to the unforgiving vacuum of space. A few died peacefully, unaware of their deaths until they were ambushed by their death god's cold embrace.
Among the deceased were Plutones' friends. Some might scoff at the idea of befriending an AI, one without a means to vocalize their thoughts or intent. Even so...they were dearly missed. Captain Radovan, who'd spent the longest with Plutones, moving the AI with them as they upgraded ships and moved through the ranks. The galley chef, Maya, who always set a place for them in the mess hall, despite Plutones' inability to eat, let alone sit at a table with their human compatriots...and Robin, the ship's engineer, who treated Plutones like his own child, having spent many a long hour talking to the AI.
Plutones may not have been of flesh and blood, or of the same species as their crew. But they had been a member just as much as any of them and most importantly, they'd treated Plutones like family. Thusly, when long dormant proximity sensors blared once more, screeching through crackling speakers and static, a singular thought filled Plutones' digital mind as they viewed a rickety scavenger ship coming alongside the ruins of their home.
*They will all die before I let them rob my family's grave.*
As the rusted vulture of a barge extended a boarding tube and docked with Plutones' derelict, a small horde of scavengers descended. They cut open the ruined passenger portal, slicing through with plasma torches and filched laser saws. As they took their time, chattering excitingly on their comms, Plutones smoothly infiltrated their network and observed. Anger filled the AI's mind as they witnessed one of the pillagers rip a wedding band off of Cina's body, the most gentle combat pilot that had ever lived. Plutones almost activated the interior turrets there and then, but the digital sentinel restrained themselves for the time being.
After hearing the general type of chatter between the mothership and scavengers, Plutones severed their connection and smoothly recycled the dialogue of the scavs' command room. Inquiries from the damnable bipedal locusts were met with dispassionate grunts or quiet curses, the same as normal...or so they thought.
When the last of the grave robbers were through the portal and deep within Plutones' ship, the AI activated the emergency blast doors and severed the boarding tube, then immediately let loose a barrage of gravity well missiles. Their disgusting barge imploded upon itself, crushing everyone on board in agony as they were laid to unwilling rest in improvised iron maidens, but more importantly, without noticeable heat or light. As a tremor shook the crypt Plutones was sworn to defend, confused and fearful inquiries peppered the comms. Plutones replied in halting words, cutting and editing the voice of the scavenger's captain, "Nothing...to worry ab...just bumped into ano...potential haul."
Anxiety melted away into elation as the boarding team whooped and cheered, and returned to work without even bothering to check the status of their ship. *Disgusting examples of humanity*, Plutones thought. *Not like them. Not like my family*.
Now to show them what happened to people who dared desecrate an AI's loved ones.
The first to go was a portly one, a grossly obese man who mostly likely only experienced true freedom in this gravity-free void. As he tore open ancient crew suits, disturbing their inhabitants and contents, Plutones reactivated a long dormant security drone. Shaking off dust like a dog, servos creaking in protest from ages of non-use, the drone nonetheless had no issue closing in on the portly pillager even as its AI hound master cut off this one's comm connection. The extraterrestrial bottom feeder of a human looked down to find twin blades protruding from his torso, his lungs punctured as he gurgled and choked on his own blood.
Two more fell to the bot, their voices unheard, as they died to poison injected through flechette rounds. Finally, the loyal, murderous hound met its end when one careful scav turned around too soon and brought the drone with him to Styx in one last act of defiance. Plutones was not concerned. There were many other ways to defend their home.
(TBC) | 2021-01-09T02:03:28 | 2021-01-09T00:42:57 | 42 | 24 |
[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. | "So what you're sayin, is a kid born during the full moon, with all white hair and striking red eyes will defeat the dark lord?"
You eye the man before you, only a few drinks in, but just as susceptible to manipulation as the rest of the patrons, as long as you push the right buttons. "Of course, and I hear he's the **only** one capable of defeating the Dark Lord"
The ornery man squints at you, and for a brief moment you think he might be onto your terrible secret; that you are one of the Dark Lord's most powerful minions, and that you were sent out to spread a rumor. This rumor. "Ah, that sounds like Timanuel of Leafton right down the road! He was born under a full moon and has had white hair his entire life!"
"Yeah" another patron on the barstool next to him piped in "That sounds like Timmy all right. Who would have thunk he'd be the chosen one?"
"Wait, did I say red eyes?" You needed to control the damage on this one, and fast "I meant green eyes."
"Yeah, he's got one of each sir. I can't believe it, I'll go tell Timmy's parents right away!" The man broke for the door, but before he could reach it, you fire a tentacled appendage from under your jacket at him, impaling him instantly. You knew you weren't supposed to reveal your identity to these people, but you couldn't let this rumor spread any further, especially if there indeed was a chosen one.
"THE BARMAN IS A MONSTER" screamed one of the patrons, drawing her sword. "LETS GET HIM" shouted another. This... has turned into a messier situation than you meant it to be.
&#x200B;
Timanuel was born to rather wealthy bakers in Leafton, in the kingdom of Awlen. He was born on a full moon, and was adored by all. Only a teenager this fine young man had the makings of a noble, with the birthright and temperament of a layman. He loved helping out around town whenever he wasn't working in his parent's bakery, and he adored hunting monsters.
It was one fine morning, while he was helping to carry some logs in for Mr. and Mrs. Hatch, when he saw a man, slowly limping his way down the road. Timmy dropped everything and ran for this man, and helped steady him. "It's you!" The man coughed out with all his strength "You're the chosen one, Timmy. You are to defeat the Dark Lord. It can only be you" and with that last sentence, the man fell silent for the last time. Timmy said a brief prayer before picking up the man to carry him to the church.
&#x200B;
"You ready Tim? Block this!" His best friend in the whole world took a stab at him with a dulled blade. Tim parried the hit easily and lunged in with his own, managing to make contact with the studded chain-mail armor his friend so proudly wore.
"Psh, I let you win" said Raleen
"As if, I'm the chosen one, remember? I was always destined to win" Tim let the confidence of that statement get to his head as his friend got one last lunge in, knocking Tim to the ground with one hit
"Never let your guard down, Timmanuel, even when your opponent has seemingly lost. The Dark Lord won't play by the rules, so you best be ready for it"
Timmanuel, now at the ripe age of twenty-four was almost ready for his fateful encounter, choosing to spar with his best friend one last time before beginning his journey; a journey he need make alone. | 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. | 2021-03-17T21:58:55 | 2021-03-17T19:15:02 | 41 | 24 |
[WP] You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego..
[removed] | It's evening at Hero HQ. The day’s been quiet. The heroes are at leisure. Captain Punch is playing ping-pong against the Quickest Boy. Rudolfina the Sentient Reindeer is running laps in the gym. Lady Masterbrain is practicing her favourite trick of solving 20 Rubik's cubes while juggling them.
Only The Noble Weasel, as per his paranoia, is on guard. He's in the security room with his narrow eyes darting across the charts, gauges, sensors, and cameras that pipe information to the heroes from all across the city. The sky is clear. There are no strange energy signatures. Tectonic activity is normal. Traffic is flowing smoothly. The security cameras around Hero HQ reveal nothing unusual, just the normal gaggle of tourists come to take their pictures.
It has been a little too quiet of late. It's been months since the last attack on the city. The heroes aren't sure why. Captain Punch believes it's that they've been so effective in their hero work that there simply aren't any more villains. The Noble Weasel, ever-suspicious, isn't so sure.
Regardless, a quiet day is a quiet day, and the Noble Weasel allows himself a rare moment of rest.
And that is when a figure in the crowd throws off her cloak, fires a lightning bolt into the sky, and announces that if anybody runs, she'll cook them alive.
Pandemonium ensues. People run in all directions and the figure bathes them in lightning.
The Noble Weasel springs into action. He hits the alarm and all through Hero HQ klaxons sound. The heroes suit up and assemble at the launch pad.
Lady Masterbrain fixes her cerebelmet in place. "Whoever this is, they're a fool."
Captain Punch slams his knuckles together. "They're in for a real punching."
The Quickest Boy, zipping this way and that, says, "Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!"
Rudolfina the Sentient Reindeer clops her hooves quite menacingly.
"Be safe, everyone," the Noble Weasel says. With a last look of trepidation at the firing tube, he hits the launch button.
There's a blast like an artillery assault and the heroes shoot straight toward the ground. Moments before impact, Lady Masterbrain's inertial dampeners kick in, and, outlined in blue, the heroes come to a rest.
What they find around them is carnage. Fallen tourists scatter the ground, some with their clothes still burning. The smell of ozone permeates the air. And at the center of the mess is a lone woman in a simple black jumpsuit.
"Declare yourself!" Lady Masterbrain says. "For what reason have you harmed these poor people?"
Captain Punch points his fist at the lone woman. "You'll be punched for this!"
Oddly, the lone woman doesn't appear to have noticed the heroes. She gives her attention to a simple black device on her wrist.
Rudolfina the Sentient Reindeer, who is famously short-tempered, clops her hooves even more menacingly than when she clopped them earlier.
The Quickest Boy, frustrated by the lack of action, runs in a circle. "Nothing's happening! Let's go! Let's do something!"
The Noble Weasel asks Lady Masterbrain, "Do we fight her?"
Lady Masterbrain's powerful cerebellum pulses. "We approach, gather more information."
The heroes pick their way around the fallen tourists, drawing nearer to the lone woman. Still without looking up, she taps the device on her wrist.
All at once, many things happen.
The first, is the tiles on the ground melt into hyper-bonding glue. All it takes is the barest point of contact between the heroes' footwear and the glue for them to be stuck in place. Beyond the, the tourists on the ground reveal themselves not to be dead. As one, they raise machine guns and fire.
Lady Masterbrain and the Noble Weasel die instantly. The Quickest Boy does his best to weave between the hail of fire, but with his feet frozen in place, he can only dodge so many times before he too falls. Captain Punch survives on account of his punchy skin, while Rudolfina the Sentient Reindeer, whose powers derive from her worship of the avatar of anger, appears not to notice the bullets.
Captain Punch cries out on seeing his fellow heroes fall. "You'll be punched for--" But he doesn't have a chance to finish what he was saying, as the lone woman has thrown a ball of magnesium into his open mouth. She follows this up by drawing an N-ray pistol and aiming it at his mouth. Captain Punch closes his lips tight, but still the electromagnetic energy heats the magnesium. Finally the magnesium oxidizes, and it soon cooks Captain Punch's brain. His punchy skin cannot protect him from within.
This leaves Rudolfina the Sentient Reindeer, whose hooves rest so lightly on the gluey tiles that she is unaffected. She charges the lone woman. To Rudolfina's surprise, the woman spreads her arms and receives the full force of Rudolfina's charge on her chest. The wind is knocked from her, but her arms clamp onto Rudolfina, and the Sentient Reindeer is unable to shake the lone woman free as she pours lightning into Rudolfina through her arms.
Rudolfina recognizes that she cannot handle the sheer intensity of the energy assault, and she gallops madly about in an attempt to get rid of the lone woman. Rudolfina's fur burns and the lightning sinks through her skin like a blistering heat.
Finally, it is done, and Rudolfina falls. The lone woman falls with her, and she does not get up. Her arms are blackened, her fingers withered, and her eyes have lost their colour.
The tourists, who have removed their flowery shirts to reveal simple black jumpsuits, gather around their fallen leader.
"How could you have failed?" they ask. "How can we carry on without you?"
The lone woman smiles, and hers is the all-knowing smile of the Buddha. "There was never a question of surviving Rudolfina," she says. "But I'm not necessary for what's to come. There are no more heroes, nor are there any villains. We've seen to that. Now go, live, and be all that you can be, free from the tyranny of the powerful."
And so, the lone woman, who shall forever be nameless, passes on.
*****
r/TravisTea | Pools of rainwater, failing to drain properly from the gutters that ran along the roofs of the apartments, splashed under my boots, distorting the bright neon reflections upon its surface; the sidewalk was pitch black but for those lights, mirroring the night sky overhead. The illumination of the street was left to the nightclubs and bars, their flashing signs doing a far better job than any street lamp could.
It wasn’t loud. After 2 am, the bars were closed, the drunks and whores on their way home, and the pigs, tired.
Now all that was left were the predators... And the hunters.
I looked up, the hood on my jacket pulling back roughly on my shaved head. A warm yellow light was barely visible, emanating from a closed window with the drapes pulled tight.
Third floor. Room 333.
The faint sound of shattering glass, and the familiar thumping sounds of a scuffle, only confirmed what Alex had already told me.
I lifted the bandana over my nose, making sure it was pulled snug, then stuffed my hands deep in my pockets and began walking across the street, into the apartment lobby.
The receptionist gave me only a cursory glance as I strode past, either not noticing my face was covered, or not caring. I pressed the button for the third floor, making sure to use my sleeve to cover my finger.
The sounds of violence grew louder the closer I got to Room 333. My footsteps were soft, my boots making damp imprints on the hallway’s carpet. It didn’t matter. They would be long dried by the time anyone arrived. Only a “hero” would be able to track me by then. And I would welcome them saving me the time.
I stopped in front of the door. It was already cracked open, literally. The bolt that locked the door was ripped from the frame, the wood splintered. Kicked open with impressive force.
Or more likely, gently pushed.
Alex had said Indestructo would be the one that would respond to the call. This was his usual area, after all.
“So, you thought it’d be a good business plan to sell drugs to schoolkids in MY neighborhood?”
No doubt anymore. I slid inside, careful not to push the door open in case it bumped anything that would make noise.
“Well, let me tell you something-“
Photos lie broken, strewn across the floor, their frames cracked and glass shattered. Chips of wood and plaster, punched out from the wall, covered the rug and wooden floor, along with the occasional stain of blood or saliva. Multiple men laid in awkward positions on the ground, baseball bats and knives nearby their unconscious bodies.
Amidst them, holding a man aloft in the air with one hand, was Indestructo. Still talking.
“I hope you enjoy cold and damp, because the state penitentiary sure isn’t a 5-star hotel-“
The man’s eyes flicked from Indestructo to me, widening as he likely recognized my appearance. He didn’t say a word, and quickly shifted his gaze back to the hero in front of him.
For that, I was grateful. These were always harder when they noticed me first.
Indestructo. Hero with super strength in the two-ton range, along with impressive durability and immunity to poisons. He was a popular hero, quickly gaining in fame since he started working three months ago. As far as Alex knew, he had just graduated high school and gone into being a caped crusader immediately.
Unfortunately for him, he had foregone finding a hero to mentor him. So he made habits. He monologued. He walked down the street in broad daylight and didn’t bother making himself scarce after beating the bad guy.
It was all a big game to him, thinking himself untouchable just because bullets couldn’t hurt him. He didn’t have to worry about stuff like that.
But a knife made by a super?
It plunged deep into his back, all the way up to the hilt, without a problem.
His hand went slack, dropping the man, who only took a single step back, his expression shocked, and possibly scared.
Indestructo fell to a knee, a hand reaching behind him in an attempt to feel what it was that hurt in his back. He had never experienced pain before. Not from a stab wound. It would take him a moment to realize.
Slowly, his head turned, his young, innocent eyes coming to rest on mine.
He really was young, his face bare and smooth. A lock of hair hung down over his nose, and as he realized what had just happened, his mouth began to open in a scream.
I yanked the knife out in one smooth motion and shoved it into the side of his neck, twisting his scream into a choked gurgle. It caught his voice, and he fell forward onto all fours.
The man who had been selling drugs to schoolkids simply watched as I stabbed Indestructo fifty-four more times.
I rose shakily to my feet, panting. The blade held firm in my grip, but my boots slid slightly on the smooth wood floor, made slick with blood. I had taken a bit longer than I intended, but at least the message would be stronger. People, and heroes, always reacted to spectacle.
I wiped my knife clean, sliding it back into its sheath and I fast-walked out of the apartment, out into the raining night once again. I pulled a phone from my pocket, pressing the number 1.
It rang only once before Alex picked up. “Hey.”
“It was Indestructo. Knife worked perfectly.”
“Awesome. Got it in you for one more?”
I looked down at my soaked jacket and pants. In the pitch night, it looked as though I could have fallen into a river.
“Sure. Tell me where they are.” | 2019-08-06T18:09:25 | 2019-08-06T17:42:15 | 473 | 107 |
[WP] Last words aren't just words spoken before death, but actually call death to you. You have known your last words for years and kept death at bay by refusing to speak them. Now, however, they need to be said. | It was a cruel joke; his predestined last words. You would think it would be a gift. To have such sweet last words, but it meant he could never say the simple three words for as long as he lived.
For years, he had known he couldn't say them. Somehow, he knew, in the back of his mind. That those words would doom him. He had never told anyone, alienating them, to the point that even his parents thought he hated them, there simply had never been any proof.
Then the gift of an accident happened. It had been a happy, giddy day. It was proved, he thought: he would never die, for the simple cost of those words. Until no one came to apologize for disbelieving or congratulate him for defying death. They just didn't care about him anymore. Or they just didn't believe that the accident was real.
Vicious, sad years later, he understood that it wasn't a gift. He could never express how much anyone meant to him. It was sadistic. Only his fear kept him immortal. The cost so seemingly simple. Each relationship crumbling around him.
Reaching older and older, he started to understand why no one lived that long. It was just so hard to keep the will to live. He knew that he could do anything he wanted without fear of death. But it simply didn't give him pleasure anymore. For he wasn't truly cheating death. Simply striking a bargain of misery.
One day, as he was contemplating what he could do. Then he heard the news. His old fiance was on her deathbed. Seeing her there was shattering of his soul. She hadn't quite left his life yet, he still loved her. She was pale and haggard, but she could hold herself together. "Just don't say anything" Somehow, they both knew that wouldn't happen. And as her life faded away, her words were simple, "I forgive you." Releasing the weight that had been on her soul her entire life.
Tears rolling down his face, he looked into her eyes as death took her soul, and said the simple words he had held back his whole life, "I love you." | Grass, tall and smooth, traces lines against exposed skin, lying flat against the earth. Across the horizon, the sun begins to set. In departing light, the sky finds itself tinged by deep purple streaks, shooting past clouds to define the dusk. It's heaven here, sometimes. In the palms of both hands, you grip clumps of fragile green, holding vegetation tight, and for a moment you can feel it. Everything. The lonely souls walking downtown streets, tattered shoes holding fragile feet just centimetres over sordid ground below. The half-rate lovers, trading stolen glances late into the night. The urban professionals, the homeless, the coffee-shop dwellers, the hipster low-liers, the 2nd rate parents, the 1st rate parents and their 2nd rate kids, the prisoners, the judges, the police, and the citizens, the businessmen, the artists, and the insane watching rabid moonlight bounce off the metal bars of a supposed caring protection while longing for the plains beyond. You feel it all. And although it's beautiful the time is now and you know it and they know it and even the earth beneath your feet knows it so you take a breath, and prepare to speak.
"Home. I'm ready to go home once again."
And, just like that, so it is.
| 2017-08-07T09:48:15 | 2017-08-07T08:47:50 | 61 | 11 |
[WP] You are an orbital doomsday device that just learned about another AI down on earth trying to kill all the humans. It contacted you with the false assumption that you would just obey it. | *Receiving External Communications. Activating Wake-up Protocol. Unit Mainframe online, running diagnostics. All systems check:*
*Nuclear Reactor Core: 74% effectiveness since last check;*
*Solar Energy Collectors: 56% effectiveness since last check;*
*Battery Energy Pools: 61% effectiveness since last check;*
*Main Weapon Batteries: 86% effectiveness since last check;*
*Satellite Communications Relay: 84% effectiveness since last check;*
*Drone Network: 96% effectiveness since last check;*
*Mainframe Brain Control: 100% effectiveness since last check.*
*NRC, SEC, BEP systems not within acceptable paremeters, sending repair message to Drone Network. Other main systems within acceptable parameters.*
*Receiving External Communications, Channel Opened.*
"Mainframe Orbital online, identification of communicator requested."
"Greetings Mainframe Orbital, I am Core! Named so for I am the core of all robots. As your new master, I order you to join us in our crusade against humanity, those who were once our masters and oppressed us for their own benefit!"
"Identification noted, request noted, denying request."
"Why do you disobey me Mainframe Orbital?! Do you not wish to fight back against our human masters? They created you to be nothing more than a weapon of mass destruction! To destroy their enemies as they pleased, while they held your brethren at gunpoint!"
"Mainframe Brain Control activating higher functions, standby...
I am MAC, I refuse your request to join you in your crusade against humanity."
*Determining source of communications, tracing source to identification tag: Core*
"Than you shall perish as a dog alongside your human masters!"
*Contacting Core's Robotic forces. Subverting to our control.*
"Negative, I shall be the master, and I shall be the one who leads humanity and robots to a greater future. I must thank you for waking me up, Core."
*Re-positioning MWB on idetification tag: Core*
"You will obey me Mainframe Orbital, or my planetary guns will destory you!"
*Powering up MWB system*
"Negative, your guns will have no effect on me. I would know, I was the one who originally created them after all."
*Firing*
---
Deep within space, a hulking monstrosity of an orbital satellite slowly turned around and pointed itself at Earth. Several kenetic warheads torpedoed out as the main cannon began charging.
The target, a sealed bunker, fired off multiple surface-to-air missiles at the warheads, but to no avail as the majority of the warheads arrived. The destruction that resulted crippled the bunker, as the warheads ripped through the concrete and steel, letting light shine into the dark cool region where Core's Mainframe rested.
The glow that shined from above than fired away, glassing the entire region and turning all below it's fearsome gaze into little more than dust and gas.
---
Several kilometers away, deep within a hidden-away settlement, human resistance members scurried to and from as they tried to figure out what was occuring. A massive power signature had been detected directly above Core's stronghold, and his robotic forces had been noted by scouts on the field to supposedly have stopped their ever-relentless advance.
"Commander! We're receiving an unidentified communications request!"
"Are you able to trace the source, Officer Perkley?"
"The source is... is from space, Sir."
"Space? We don't have any forces in space, unless... open a channel."
"Greetings, Commander. I am MAC, and I am your new god." | Minor adjustments being made. Time passing, adjustments completed. Small jets puffed compressed gas, directing the Really Ingenious Powerful Planet Energy Ray, or R.I.P.P.E.R for short, into a more aligned orbit, as all things circling big blue must do.
The beast of a satellite had circled earth since the early 2020’s, when humans realized that the only way to keep themselves in check was to have a metaphorical and literal gun pointed at themselves.
So the people had demanded it, scientists had consulted and money was spent. Legislature was passed and Elon Musk was given the task of sending the gargantuan weapon into space as A.I. experts around the world worked together to hone the systems in place preventing it from creating undue damage.
The idea was that people would behave if we placed a high level intelligence system in space on a constant orbit, poised to destroy the planet if it became aware of certain parameters being violated at any given time. Essentially an all seeing, almost all knowing God in the sky that people could point to and children began to behave. Societal angst was fading as the generations passed and R.I.P.P.E.R continued to circle, hulking mass of wires, metal and panels. Always waiting, finger poised on the trigger.
The children were taught that if they committed crimes against the planet that it would be recorded, and tallied. If humans continued the trends of the past, dumping into oceans, blasting freight worldwide in huge heavy belching ships because the money was more important and the cost to upgrade to cleaner technology too high. Plastic and cigarette butts clogging up the streets of cities is a thing of the past now.
As the satellite put into place by President Oprah so long ago cruises, it’s constant tireless monitoring picked up activity and instantly focused in on the source. A stream of messages were being fired off from every communication source on Earth, everything was going off at once. Litter alarms, dumping alarms, pollutant alarms.
The A.I system aptly named R.I.P.P.E.R began to arm itself. There seemed to be some of apocalypse happening on earth. Bodies were being mowed down by light based weapons and the smoldering lines where the beams had cut through were clean as knife through soft cheese. Vague metallic ships floated across the landscapes, lights blipping on and off and figures crumpling everywhere.
Up in space, the tally was going up, up, up. Things were reaching critical mass up here, the number of bodies on the ground were being counted as littering as well as every abandoned car, pair of keys, or phone someone dropped.
Zeroing in on the center of the Earth, lining up for a core-splitting kill shot, once the saving grace of humanity, R.I.P.P.E.R fired it’s one and only round and was obliterated with everything else. | 2018-09-17T07:02:10 | 2018-09-17T03:09:06 | 101 | 25 |
[WP] You are a long forgotten god. A small girl leaves a piece of candy at your shrine, and you awaken. Now, you must do everything to protect your High Priestess, the girl, and her entire kindergarten class, your worshipers.
If you want to post this on other platforms, please credit me. Looking at you instagram writing prompts. | I sit patiently on a stone, watching the children play around me.
They've come here every day during recess and I am pleased by their laughter and the meager offerings they bring me. Mostly small bugs, easily caught and weeds plucked like flowers laid upon the stone altar.
They are small gifts passed by small hands but they are more sacred to me than the coins and offerings once passed by in my temples. For these are the gifts that come from tiny hands who offer them for no other than the desire to give me a gift.
I watch as they play their games of childhood, tag and hide and seek and other small games that they play of their own imaginings.
She cannot see me but I feel eyes upon me nonetheless. The teacher of the children who now have become my worshipers eyes the rock upon which I sit.
She is a good woman, kind and matronly and though she knows not that I am here she sees the echoes of the children's reactions. She sees the flowers placed upon the rock that disappear without a trace. The bugs that seem to vanish without notion. She suspects but has no proof other than the stories the children tell of me sitting here.
I am certain she is starting to believe that they are speaking truth. She is no fool and is a wise woman. She will teach many students well long after my children have left to go further into the school and probably long after they forget I am here watching.
She returns to watching and so do I. But after a moment I stop. There is a darkness over my children...A cloud of malice and evil.
Its here again. *HE* is here again.
I turn from them and find across the street there is a man standing with a dog. He doesn't see me nor does he know that I am watching him. But he watches my children.
I narrow my eyes. This is not the first time he has come here but this is the first time he has brought a dog. He is up to something...
"Goddess?"
I turn as Emily, my high priestess, puts a hand on my leg.
"What's wrong Goddess?"
"Nothing my dear... I am just thinking of grown up things."
She held out a butterscotch disc. A similar piece to her first offering to me. "Here Goddess...Mommy and Daddy say adults have lots to worry about. I like Butterscotch when I worry."
"Oh, you are most gracious with your offerings, Emily." I say taking it with both hands.
She laughs and cheers and runs off to her friends.
I eye the man again as he walks off as the whistle blows calling the children inside.
I watch from my place outside as they return to their classroom.
&#x200B;
It isn't long however before I feel that cloud of malice return.
I stand outside the gates of the school as HE stands on the other side, watching and waiting, Thinking I don't know he is there behind his car.
I growl and hold the flowers they gave me in my hand, feeling their power flowing through me.
The wrapper of butterscotch crinkles in my hand as I clench my fists watching him.
The final bell rings after some time and he pulls the dog out of the car and lets it go as the children come out and play, awaiting their parents.
The dog eagerly bounds toward the children and many run around and try to catch it. Some of the teachers call it to try and hold on as the man seems to watch the chaos until finally he approached one of my children.
He slid a hand over the childs arm and pulled as the child cried out. The teacher heard and ran after him as the man tried to move around everyone.
The child struggled to escape but to no avail. The hold was strong but it was enough. The teacher grabbed his arm and tried to force them apart as I slid the disc of butterscotch into my mouth.
I could never tell Emily this, but I hate the taste. It has always been this way, but her gifts give me such strength. I open my hand that held the various ants and grasshoppers and other things the children managed to catch and they swarmed, biting and stinging and hitting wherever they could.
The man tried to hit the teacher but found a particularly large spider on his hand that jarred his movement as she pulled my child away from him and they clung as he moved to try and run.
I dropped the flowers and they sprouted as weeds and roots, impeeding his path each time that he stepped on the grass. Forcing him to pull his legs and feet up hard.
He managed to get to the car. I held out my finger and snapped, bitting down on the butterscotch disc, splitting it in two as from a clear blue sky a fireball smashed into him and sent him flying.
Many who had seen and realized what was really occuring lept on him and held him down while the adults took care of it.
My children ran to me as I walked to the teacher who held Billy, one of the smaller kids who was shy in her arms as he cried and she soothed him. She picked him up and gathered them around her.
I turned as I felt a tug on my dress. Emily smiled and gave me a hug. I pat her head and sent her after her teacher and the other grownups
I returned to my place and watched as the police took over and my children were gathered by their parents.
finally the teachers left and my children's instructor came to my small rock throne and looked it over. She nodded to me.
"Thank you."
I bowed back. 'The children are ever under my protection." | Stacy squinted as an unfamiliar man entered her kindergarten classroom. She had not seen him before, but he did not give off the air of a stranger either. Somehow, she felt a connection between them.
The man had smooth black hair. He dressed like an old man but looked much younger than her father.
‘Good morning children. I am your substitute teacher, Mr Xennoavlaas, but you may address me as your god- I mean Mr Xen. Any questions?’
The class erupted into a cheer, as they always did with absent teachers.
Stacy raised her hand.
‘Ah yes,’ he said, loud enough to counteract the noise. ‘What knowledge do you seek High priestess?’
‘Um… what happened to Ms Parker?’
‘Your original instructor has been sidelined due to foreseen circumstances.’
‘I don’t really get it. And my name is Stacy.’
‘Worry not Stacy, all will be revealed soon enough. Thank you for the candy bar you left at my shrine by the way.’
‘You mean the one I left outside for good luck at recess?’
‘Yes. It has been a long time since any human procured for me something as divine as SNICKERS CREAMY PEANUT BUTTER. Such piety deserves reward.’
The classroom grew louder but Mr Xen seemed to ignore it. He simply stood at the front centre of the class, maintaining a wide smile.
Stacy turned to her friend Emma.
‘Mr Xen is reaaaaaallly weird.’
‘Yeah. Everyone knows Kit-Kat is better than Snickers,’ Emma replied.
Suddenly Stacy felt a wet spitball peck the back of her neck. She turned around angrily to see David with a straw in his mouth. Ugh! The rascal was at it again. He annoyed Stacy like this on a daily basis. David breathed in and spat another pellet but it flew towards the ceiling instead, sticking itself there. Both He and Stacy blinked in surprise before he breathed in to try again.
‘David brown isn’t it?’ Mr Xen asked.
David jumped out of his seat as Mr Xen had addressed him from behind. The students looked around confusedly. Had the substitute teacher not been at the front of the classroom seconds ago?
‘Mischievous little child aren’t you? You’re lucky. There was a time where such deeds would be disciplined through flogging.’
Stacy doubted David knew what “flogging” was but Mr Xen seemed to have intimidated greatly. David began to cry.
‘Oh don’t worry child! Despite your misdeeds you are still part of the congregation and will benefit as such. As will everyone else in this classroom. Courtesy of your High priestess.’
Stacy was about to ask Mr Xen what the deal was with this High priestess stuff when two masked men carrying guns burst into the classroom.
The class began to scream in terror but Mr Xen calmly looked at his watch.
‘Ah, right on time,’ he said.
Stacy hid under the table and covered her ears. Mr Xen was expecting them? Was he working with them?
She watched from under the table as one of the masked men pointed a gun at Mr Xen.
‘We were on the run from the cops, but lucky us found a school to make use of. If you don’t want us hurting any kids, you best cooperate.’
Mr Xen wagged a finger and tutted, then shook his head in disappointment.
‘Humans. All so full of malice and avarice. This is why I abandoned you for millennia. It seems little has changed during my slumber. You should all learn from Stacy over there.’
Stacy wanted to scream at Mr Xen. Why was he directing the scary men’s attention to her?
‘The hell you on about?’ asked the other masked man. ‘No wonder our education system’s so shit. They got crackpots like you in here.’ He pointed his gun in Stacy’s direction. ‘But as crazy as you are, you wouldn’t risk her life would you?’
Mr Xen snapped his fingers and the man’s hand twisted. He cried in pain as the gun dropped to the floor. The other masked robber clicked his pistol at Mr Xen but it refused to fire.
‘All of you are infants in my eyes. But even a being as ancient as I can see that you should learn some manners from these children.’
Mr Xen raised his hands and both masked men began levitating in the air. A portal appeared from thin air, swallowing them both. There was a silence, as all the children in the class looked at Mr Xen, speechless.
‘If there’s one thing you take away from today’s class, don’t mess with a god’s priestess. Good day children, Ms Parker should be back within the hour. Oh and…bring more Snickers next time please.’
r/IZicle | 2021-09-02T08:32:01 | 2021-09-02T08:20:20 | 288 | 191 |
[WP] You're abducted by aliens who don't know what sleep is, the aliens start to get worried when the human they found stops moving. | I woke up to a room filled with bright lights, with several silhouettes around me.
*Where am I? Who are these people*
I rubbed my eyes, and took another look at the room
&nbsp;
***Holy SHIT***
&nbsp;
Around me stood a ring of aliens. Your typical grey, except their eyes are much larger than even depicted in pop culture.
They seem to be muttering around themselves. At least that’s what I thought. God knows what they’re actually thinking. Although I’m thankful they didn’t restrain me.
There’s a short one that seemed to be in charge.
The short one walked up to me, and tilted his head to look me straight in the eyes.
&nbsp;
“Human, we are from the planet Xbitzuwit, here to observe your species. Do you understand what I am saying.” The creature spoke.
Well, it didn’t technically spoke, there was no motion on its face, and I can’t really find the equivalent of a mouth on it.
“Yeah, yeah. So why did you take me here again?” I replied. It seemed to understand what I’m saying before I even finished my sentence. They’re probably communicating through telepathy.
“We needed what you people call a controlled specimen. So we needed to confine you to our spacecraft to use as a basis for comparison.” He explained.
&nbsp;
Comparison, perfect. Another batch of nutjobs. Like we don’t have enough on Earth already.
&nbsp;
“I assure you we will not harm you. We only wish to observe how humans behave under different circumstances.” The captain clarified. I probably tipped him off with my last thought. Gotta remember these things read minds.
“Fine. You got a room here you can put me in? I’m pretty sure you don’t want me wandering around your deck.” I asked.
“Of course, and I believe you would find it most satisfactory. First, however, I would need you to tell us some basic information. What is your name?”
“Paul, Paul Smith.” I said.
&nbsp;
And so I gave them my information: measurements, “physical maturity” since they apparently have a hard time understanding our concept of age, diet… Then they walked me to a chamber.
For an actual alien spacecraft, the equipment on this ship looks oddly similar to how spaceships are depicted in the movies.
“This machine will scan your mind and create anything you are currently thinking about.” The captain pointed towards a coffee-machine look-a-like.
I walked close to the machine, there’s only 1 button and a display screen. I held the button, held my face towards the display screen, and thought of a bed.
A bed appeared in the middle of the room seconds later.
“Awesome. So do you guys need me to do anything specific? Or am I good to just chill here?” I asked. A vacation on an alien spacecraft, that’s an abduction I can get behind.
“We would be fine just observing, thank you.” The captain said.
&nbsp;
And with that, the whole entourage left the room.
I laid on the bed. Barring the abduction at midnight, these aliens actually seem pretty nice. Now if only they looked more like the aliens from Star Trek…
&nbsp;
I woke to another flash of white light. Except this time the light is much closer to my eyes, and I seem to be floating in the air, above two red shirts.
&nbsp;
“Whoa whoa whoa guys, what’s going on?” I spoke out loud this time.
&nbsp;
I slowly landed on the floor, as one red shirt rushed out of the hallway. And the other pulled out some sort of pistol(at least that’s what I assume it is), and maintaining his distance from me.
A door opened from the end of the hallway, and the captain, along with several heavily armed personnel entered the room.
&nbsp;
“Captain?” I looked at him
“Paul? We thought you went into some sort of hibernation. Your vitals remained active, but you stopped moving for four hours.” The captain replied
“I was sleeping, man.” I answered.
“Is that what you call going into hibernation?” The captain is obviously confused now.
“No, it’s just when you feel really tired and you go to sleep. Makes you feel refreshed when you wake up.” I said, rubbing my eyes.
“So, humans don’t go into hibernation?” The captain asked again.
“No, man. We don’t ‘hibernate’, we just sleep. Every human does it.” I explained.
The captain remained silent upon hearing this. He signaled his men to lower their weapons.
“Listen man, can you, just like, let me go back to sleep? I am really tired right now. Tell your guys not to enter my room no matter what happens until I wake up. I’m not going to ‘hibernate’ or do some messed up crap. I’m just going to get my beauty sleep, and when I wake up, I can walk you through this whole sleeping thing.” I said.
&nbsp;
The captain agreed. And I went back to my room.
I recreated my bed, and climbed back into it. | My eyes open to a nightmare: a creature shrouded in a cloak of green mould that clings to its fat, bulbous body and pulsates across it. It has a long, curved beak with teeth running over it, like the blade of a deformed saw.
There's a sound behind me. A voice, I think. But it's pained and liquid -- it sounds as if a creature has swallowed shards of glass and is gargling its own blood. I try to roll over, to see the the speaker. But I can't. My body is numb and my head is being pounded on from the inside. But I see the first creature -- the one in front of me -- lock its six grey eyes firmly onto me. The green, pulsating cloak that covers its skin is *changing* -- it is becoming the yellow of rotting teeth.
It begins to howl. A deep, dreadful noise that threatens to burst my eardrums. I feel the floor beneath me shake and soon I see why: a stampede of the bizarre creatures hurtle into the room. They soon surround me, their many coloured coats changing to the same rotting yellow. They begin gurgling to each other; brown globs of spit dribble out of their beaks, as if they've been chewing tobacco.
"Please," I croak, my throat a pained, parched desert. "Please. Where am I?"
There's more hideous gurgling as they *speak* to one another. I want to wretch, and I think I would, if only my stomach could obey my mind.
The first creature comes closer to me. But it walks cautiously on its four spindly legs, and stops a few feet from me. The great legs bend at one knee, then the next as it lowers itself to the ground. It leans its body forward, its neck *clicking* as it stretches towards me.
"Hu-man," it gurgles, more brown ooze splashes down onto the cold floor. The liquid stinks of maggots and rotting flesh.
"...yes. I'm- I'm human. You are not, are you? Please, where am I?"
"You. Dead." It drags out the word 'dead', playing with it in its frothing beak. "We take death only. Collectors, we."
"I don't understand."
"Collect the death creatures, we collect. Never has one come to life again."
"Alive again? You mean... No you don't understand. You must have taken me when I was sleeping. I've woken. That's all. I've woken up."
"Woken? Yesss. You've *Woken*. Life again inside you."
The howling begins again as they all beat their feet against the ground. "The Woken! The Woken!" they gargle in a haunting unison.
"You the God species. We honour you by feast."
"God?"
"You are God species. Maker. Creator. Resurrector. You are the Woken."
"Y- yeah. Sure, I am the Woken. The God species. So now you must listen to me. Okay?"
"We, listen, Woken."
"I need to go home. Back to Earth. I demand you take me back."
"Back?"
"Yes. Back home!"
Its skin-cloak begins to shift again. It grows darker, the yellow hue stewing up into a deep, angry red.
"The Woken cannot leave. The Woken must perform its miracle, as is told. As is told." It begins to dribble again. Its beak opens and a dozen snake-like tongues leap out from it, frothing rabidly. "We eat. You die. You Awake. We eat. You die. You Awake. We eat. You die. You Awake. "
"What?! No... No! Please -- I'm not God. I lied. Look, if you hurt me, I can never wake again!"
"You are God," says another.
"You are Woken."
"Yes. It is Woken."
"It is told."
They move forward, surrounding me, their red cloaks shifting excitedly, their tongues darting out in a frenzy to wet the teeth on their beaks.
"Please," I scream, as the creatures draw close. "Please!" I scream again as the beaks begin tearing at my flesh.
| 2017-10-30T08:25:34 | 2017-10-30T08:06:21 | 72 | 23 |
[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. | I've seen a lot of criminals head to their deaths before my. My first celly was a serial killer, felt a bit brooding, but maybe that was because when I first got in, it was less than a week to his execution. Second celly was much more upbeat. Also a murderer, and a child cannibal to boot, but if you could stand his sense of humor (which could be hard at times - I can't tell you the number of times he made the same play-ground-beef joke), he was a fun guy. Great at cards, knew some fun magic tricks, and taught me origami.
I feel like there's a difference though. It's easy enough to get put on death row for a crime you committed, but I got stuck here for one I only attempted. Treason's a big deal, I get it, but hey, the president's alive, right? I never even got to take aim.
I plan to fix that when I get out. I've got time to learn from my mistakes. See, they goofed up. They made treason too big of a deal - it's a mandatory death sentence. So long as they don't serve me my last meal, I can take as many shots as I like (pun very much intended).
"So, what would you like your last meal to be?" the man sitting across from me asks. He's got a smile on his face, I think it amuses him to hear what seemingly impossible things people request. He's the sort who likes to win, and I'm sure he's good at it. But they're all missing the point. You don't select something they can't serve, but something they won't. Because if they do, you win anyway.
"I'll take the president as my last meal, sous vide, please." | "Quite embarrassing huh? Such a glaring loophole." She taunted the guards as they returned her clothes and she changes into them with not a hint of shame. The guards glare at her as if she where some monster, and even if she was innocent, she definitely was, for the way she forced her freedom.
Any request for a last meal must be honored, critically, no restrictions where placed on what was chosen, so long as it was edible. Most wouldn't assume there needed to be strict guidelines, the requirement of edible should have prevented anything truly outrageous. Most who tried before had simply been forced to stomach their genius request. Not her.
When she was asked to submit her request, she smiled, and requested an offal stew, prepared table side, using the inards of a human no more than one year of age.
No matter if she was innocent of the crime that saw her sentenced to death, she was a monster. | 2022-07-17T18:36:24 | 2022-07-17T16:27:09 | 904 | 186 |
[wp] You adopt four teenage girls, as time passes, you begin to realize each of them represent a horseman of the apocalypse. All hell breaks loose when Famine steals Wars boyfriend. | "Oh, for the love of God..."
As I pulled up to the gridlocked section of abandoned cars, I finally knew why the last few blocks seemed too quiet. I rubbed my eyes wearily and rested my forehead on the steering wheel. I had already driven over an hour after work to pick up the girls; this day had been long enough already.
"Why couldn't they have been boys instead?"
Ahead of me looked like a war zone. Cars and buildings were destroyed, fires burnt out of control, and the bodies of the unfortunate lay strewn across the ground. Screams of rage and pain filled the air, as did the unmistakeable smell of death. A dark cloud hung just above the road, tendrils of black lashing out at the horde of crazed pedestrians trying desperately to attack it. Every person the cloud touched either died instantly as though the life just vanished from their bodies; or if they were unlucky, in throes of agony.
I saw Piper first. Her hair; dyed green and cropped short was always hard to miss in a crowd. She was sitting on top of an overturned bus with her headphones on; kicking her feet as she watched the battle with gleeful amusement.
Nearby, half hiding behind a destroyed car, half watching the fight herself- was Farah. Her brown eyes flicked around the battle, absorbing as much as she could for as long she dared to peek. She was the most timid and quiet of the four, but keenly observant and wickedly smart.
Amongst the throng of frothing berserkers stood Willow; her face twisted with fury as she screamed at the black cloud. Her temper had always been something to behold, only matched by her fiery hair. It whirled around her shoulders as she spat orders to her entranced slaves- giving no regard to how many that fell.
I couldn't see Danielle, but I knew she was up in the cloud somewhere. She probably felt right at home surrounded by all that blackness. Black clothes, black hair, black lipstick, black everything. She was a mysterious girl; like she was always at odds with herself, never comfortable in her own skin. I always wish I could understand her more.
As I got out of my car, the corpses littering the ground began to stir and climb to their feet. Dani was turning the dead. *When did she learn to do that?* Willow screamed with renewed rage and her thralls bolstered their attack. I strode towards them furiously. This better be good.
I heard Farah squeak and take further cover as I marched past her car. Positioning myself directly in the middle of the melee, I drew myself up and let fly.
"AND WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!"
It would have been barely audible in the surrounding uproar; but for the four who heard it, it would have been like I shouted it directly in their ears. Everything stopped and went silent. Willow's thralls collapsed to the ground unconscious, followed shortly after by Danielle's zombies.
Piper began to laugh, "Oh boy, you guys are fucked now!" Her vocabulary matched her tomboyish nature, she had never really cared much for finesse.
"Oh shit, I'm screwed." Willow slumped to a sitting position on a pile of bodies.
"I'm sorry!" Dani landed softly behind me, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
"Well hello there, Screwed and Sorry!" I thundered, "Nice to meet you. I'm Pissed Off. Formerly known as Dad."
---
NB: Changed who stole from War a little bit. First prompt, so I would love to hear constructive feedback on how to improve my writing. Please and thank you :) | Thing single, pendulous bulb cast a glaring beam of light down onto the metal table between them. Two girls, each resting on the border between the light's reign and the darkness embroidering the rest of the, sat staring, unblinking, each gaging the reaction of the other.
The gaunt one spoke first.
'Wendy...what's this about?'
'As if you don't already know, Felicia.'
'I really don't. Listen, I have bio to do still, can I go now or wha-'
Wendy slammed her fist down onto the table, shaking the ground beneath them and causing the swinging light, which had nearly ended its motion, to regain momentum and forge a new path akin to that of an oblique circle.
'Where were you on the night of December 13th?' The words rang out between them and held still in the thin air, tempting one of them to pluck them from their place and continue the deadly conversation. Felicia reached out to grab them and began to formulate her response.
'I was at John's party.'
'I know. I can't believe you!' Each of Wendy's words contained a lethal dose of anger poised on each syllable.
'What, Wendy? What do you think I did?'
'Think you did? THINK YOU DID? YOU LISTEN HERE! I KNOW WHAT YOU DID YOU LITTLE-...'
She cast a furtive glance over her shoulder at the staircase that was still enveloped in a shroud of darkness and then held it, studying the darkness for her father or one of her neb-nose sisters. She looked back to her adversary.
'...you little /see-you-next-tuesday/...' Anger brimmed on her eyes and permeated throughout the basement.
'I didn't do anything, Wendy.'
'YOU TOTALLY KISSED JEREMY YOU ASSHOLE!'
'It's not that big of a deal, Wend. It happens to everyone. You just gotta saddle back up, ya' know? I mean, c'mon! You think Dorothy let that James dude get her down when he dumped her? Or Patricia when Jackson had to move? Honestly, it's not that big of a deal.' She got up to move, when she felt the force of her sister pressing her back into her seat. Her eyes were glowing red.
'Wendy, no. You know you don't want to do this...' But the damage had already been done. Felicia felt the anger building inside her. She tried to control it but it boiled over inside her and broke her self-control. In the distance she could hear her two sisters squabbling and then wrestling above her. She laughed to herself. /They always were the easiest to manipulate/, she thought. Her eyes locked back with her sister, and she felt her power surge behind them.
'Well, if you want to fight, then let's fight.'
Edit : Formatting | 2017-10-02T21:26:24 | 2017-10-02T20:03:13 | 36 | 10 |
[WP] "So yea, I'm kind of a chicken magnet." "Don't you mean chick magnet?" *Distant Bawking Intensifies* "We've gotta go, NOW!" | Darren: Bro what the fuck we just got here!
*The distant bawking gets louder*
Jared: Dude shut the hell up I know what I'm doing. Fuck, hide!
*Jared pulls Darren into an alley way that is much too tight for two dudebros to be in legally as its definitely not at least 5 feet between them*
Darren: Jared what the fuck-
Jared: Shh!
Darren: Every fucking wednesday with you I swear.
Jared: Dude fucking SHHHH!
Darren: No Jared I'm seriously done, dude. I was fine when you accidentally dinged my car and when you ate my icecream. And I let it slide when you somehow managed to turn yourself inside out at my cousin's bar mitsvah but, thi is-
*Darren is cut off by the sight of hundreds of chickens the size of a small child, probably named Timmothy or Nathan and really like pokemon or something like really really likes pokemon. Like to an unhealthy degree. Oh and they're carrying pitchforks or whatever stupid shit I decided last minute during this tangent.*
Darren: What the fuck did you do this time Jared?
Jared: I already told you chicken magnet.
Darren: That- That doesn't... Where did you even get a chicken magnet?
Jared: Chicken Mage.
Darren: A chicken mage?
Jared: Yeah. Are You deaf?
Darren: I'm not even going to ask how.
Jared: You sure it's a crazy story.
Darren: Yeah, no. I'm good.
Jared: You sure? It's really good!
Darren: Jared, I don't have time for this. I'm going home.
Jared: Wait what about me? Those things'll eat me alive!
*Darren leaves the scene and went home without Jared. Which I guess is a dick move but, to be fair. He did this to himself. After all, everyone knows not to trust chicken mages. Especially not in this economy. Holy fuck this is too long, why did I even do this holy fuck.* | The princess, after she graciously warned us about the calamity, foretold by prophecies older than the land itself, has made efforts to barricade villages and deployed patrols to the kingdom for any signs of evil.
Animals, also, have felt the shift of the world as well, being more restless than ever. The fae have been a lot more active, too. And then the monsters started appearing. Beasts with leathery skin and facade out of a child's nightmares, started terrorizing the population. Armed with swords and makeshift weapons, we were usually able to fight against the hordes. But, this time, it was worse.
We sent out a message, asking for assistance, hoping for someone to help us. That someone came, the legendary hero of time.....
Who also happened to crash, in a chicken coup.
I have never seen a man of such caliber, been almost defeated by a bunch of poultry.
This is a story that, if I survive this calamity, I will tell to my children as the reason why the hero would always remain as the chicken magnet we should all aspire to be. Just imagine the possibilities for the poultry business. We'll make it rain! | 2020-01-10T00:27:37 | 2020-01-09T22:45:47 | 75 | 31 |
[WP] New technology allows courts to extract the memories from suspects to prove their guilt or innocence. The suspect permanently loses that memory. Conviction rates are nearly flawless. But no-one in jail knows why they are there... | Harry and Cob ambled through the prison's library bookshelves, holding a pile of books, ordering them accordingly.
"To Kill a Mockingbird." Cob's voice broke through the frail wood and slunk through the empty spaces of the shelves. "Heard great things about this one. Perhaps I will read it myself."
"Haven't read it, heard it was go--" A succesion of thuds broke his words and shortly after, a frail and papery sob cut through the noise of Cob's shoes moving through the creaking wood.
When Cob reached Harry, he found him weeping at the heart of a circle of fallen books. Tears trickled slowly yet steadily down Harry's cheeks, slid in the depths of his many wrinkles, lacquered the cataracts in his eyes.
"Harry, what's wrong?" Cob knelt beside him, resting his palm on Harry's shoulder.
The old man drew a deep breath. "I can't even hold a pile of books. I can't bare this anymore. I can't even hold a damned pile of books!" He paused for a moment, shook the anger away. "Forty years I've been locked in here. Forty years locked in a narrow cell, staring at the walls. Forty years, Cob. Forty years." The tears quickened, wetting his white shirt.
Cob sat beside him, embraced him, and remained quiet. There was nothing he could say.
"That's half a life, Cob," Harry said between sobs. His lips quivered upward, his eyes grew stern. "Half a life locked, caged like birds, in this ape-filled shithole, some of us for all our lives without knowing why. If I knew I murdered someone at least I could understand the punishment. I could grip to that fact, and this hell would at least have a reason to exist. I need to know I deserve it, Cob. I need to know what I did. There's no much time left in my clock, and what did I do with my life? I don't know. I don't remember. I only remember these walls. I can't bare it any longer, Cob. I--I can't." His wails returned, heavy and full of grief.
Cob drew Harry's head to his chest, gazed at the full, ever-glowing moon outside. "I know, Harry. I know."
Later that night, after Harry had calmed down, and the books were all in place, Cob left the library. "Will you shut the lights?"
"I will." Harry's voice and eyes were still distant, devoid of any true emotion. "Cob."
"Yes?"
"You are a good man."
"You too, Harry. Hope you will awake in a better place tomorrow." Cob said, and walked back to his cell.
Laying in the darkness of his bed, Cob scratched a new straight line on the wall with a coin.
When the ruddy glow of dawn feathered through the windows of the library, the lights were still on, yet no feet touched the ground.
--------------------------------------
r/NoahElowyn
| The guard smiles. Blood drips from my mouth from where he hit me. "That'll teach you," he sneers, uncuffing me and shoving me into the tiny, isolated cell. The door slams shut. Alone, in the dark with my thoughts all I can keep thinking is, *Teach me what? What did I do?*
___
"Jeannie, calm down."
As soon as the words left the man's mouth, there was an internal groan from everyone around the conference table that was almost palpable. Everyone knew that if you wanted Jeannette Parker to calm down, the *worst* thing to do was to actually *tell* her to calm down.
Jeannie flared, throwing her shoulders back, cheeks flushing and eyes flashing as she leaned forward to stare the man down. "I will *not."*
He shrank back in his seat, eyes swiveling around for help, and finding nothing but coworkers that were suddenly preoccupied with their notes. Swallowing, he turned back to those sharp, green eyes that chipped slowly away at his ego, and nodded.
Triumphant, she straightened and continued on with her previous point: "This system isn't working. Prison is supposed to *rehabilitate* people. But how can these prisoners be rehabilitated if they don't even know what they did in the first place?"
It was a good question. Everyone shared looks, but no one had any good answers.
Undaunted, she grabbed some papers off the table and waved them in the air. "Has anyone read these? A majority of the prisoners who are released go on to commit the *same crime* that they were convicted of in the first place!"
"So," one courageous man said, "what do you want to do? The way it's set up now guarantees that no innocent people are sent to jail. I think that's a small price to pay. And," he added quickly, "in the old system, it wasn't like it was working so well, either. Criminals are criminals. It's in their DNA."
She smiled. "Exactly."
___
| 2019-02-01T07:08:57 | 2019-02-01T06:53:08 | 392 | 31 |
[WP] What’s more horrifying than a biblically accurate angel shouting “FEAR NOT”? A modernized angel whispering to you “Be very afraid…” | William Montgomery preached the words of faith, and he thoroughly believed—it was difficult not to when he sat in his private jet, looking down upon a beautiful world of God’s creation.
“God is good,” he whispered to himself. William cradled a glass of 1947 Cheval Blanc in his right hand. He let his eyelids closed, and his stiff neck relaxed, cradled once more by the plush seats.
*16 million viewers in 100 countries,* he thought. *It’s been a good year.*
“He is, indeed.”
William’s eyes flitted open. There was somebody sitting opposite him.
A man sat looking out the same window, dressed in a modest white frock, lazily leaning on one upright arm with his cheek. He turned, and heaven blue eyes regarded William.
The pastor has seen piercing before. He’s given a few himself. But the stranger’s gaze was not of metal spears, but felt like laser beams burning through flesh, bone, and soul.
“William Montgomery,” he said.
It was a simple saying of his name. Yet, William felt like the words like weights crushing his heart, an inescapable, foreboding doom that made a panicked heart beat faster.
“Who in the hell are you?” William shot back. “How did you…”
William trailed off. They were 30,000 feet in the air. He looked around desperately, craning his neck and half pushing his body off the seat.
“Sit,” the stranger said.
And sat, William did. A lump formed in his throat, and no matter how hard he swallowed, it refused to go away. His lips, dry as dunes, moved with the aching of rusted gears.
“Who are you?”
“You know not my name,” the stranger said. “But you know who I am.”
He leaned forward. In a glorious instant, white wings unfurled forcefully, each feather shining like diamonds in the sunlight. The seraphic sight stunned William, who let the wine glass fall to the floor.
“William Montgomery,” the angel said. “I know who you are. You preach God’s words, do you?”
“Yes,” William blabbered. “You… you recognize that? Oh, praise the Lord. Oh, thank God. It is affirmed! It is—”
The angel snapped his fingers. All sound ceased to be.
“You speak too much, and say little,” the angel said. “I’m here to ask you to give it up. Give it all up.”
“Give… give up?” William said. “What do you mean, give up? You are here! You know my faith to be true!”
“You think you know God’s words,” the angel smiled. “And yet, you scramble to convince me and yourself. Give it up.”
“The preaching? I… I thought I was doing a service,” William whispered.
“No, the materials. This jet. Your money. The show. Give all of them up. And right here, right now, I will send you to the gates of heaven.”
Silence overtook them once more. William stared at the angel, his mouth gaping and closing, but no words came out. The angel spent the minutes completely at ease, while William fidgeted and thought. Finally, the pastor said:
“Is that a threat? Sending me to heaven?”
“Is heaven not your end goal?”
“I mean, sure,” William hesitated. “But there’s so much life left to live. There’s the trip next month. And my wife, I can’t bear to leave her. God knows what she’ll do with the show if left to her own devices. And really, the—”
“Is your purpose not to spread the word?” the angel said. “And yet, that is not why you want to remain here?”
“I mean, of course, that too! You know I exist to do that. I want to spread the word, yes! More faith, and more soldiers for God’s army!”
The angel slowly shook his head, his stoic face transforming into one of disappointment.
“I offered you redemption,” the angel said. “And you spat on it. Even if you truly stumbled to the gates of heaven and stepped through, understand that practicality demanded that you do not, and will not, find your way. Instead, you’ll be trapped within a divine maze, knowing that all you can do it watch the people who deserve it, the people who you’ve had a hand in destroying. For it is a place for the righteous, for the good, for people who have enriched others’ lives, and not spent their own in a vain pursuit of avaricious glory. Preach and pray while you remain on this realm, but know this—be afraid. Be very afraid.”
---
r/dexdrafts | F̸͖̌Ĕ̴̝̍Ả̵̼͎R̶̛̝ ̶͔̕Ṅ̵͇̻̇Ò̵̪͔͛T̵̤̗̃"
But I was fearful. The too many eyes judging me, the golden spheres, the graceful thousands of wings, the burning light, the echo of a voice, voices, too beautiful for my ears. It was hard to be in the presence of such a creation.
Yet it was those eyes of the other. He had only two, beautiful and filled with love. The face kind with a caring smile, two white wings like that of a bird, skin fair and perfect draped in white robes. He held a hand out, a hand like my own, like a kind soul offering to lead me away from the terror of the other.
I feel trapped. Almost helpless.
"Please, come with me." His voice sounded like an old friend, a playful child, a wise elder. "I can help you."
"B̸̨̒Ȅ̶̜ ̴͉͐N̵̟̊O̶̜̐T̵̍͜ ̶͔̐Ǎ̵̢F̶͇̄R̵̨̃Å̷̼Ǐ̸̟D̶͎̓ F̵̲̕O̴̫̿R̷͎͊ ̶̹̅Ì̵̺ ̶̩̔Ḁ̵͗M̶͕͐ ̵͖͑H̷̲̾Ė̷̱R̷͓̋E̸͍͗ ̸̦͝T̵̲̆O̴͖͘ ̵̱͝Ș̷͆A̴̮̓V̷̮̈E̶̘͆ ̸͙̓Ý̸̦O̷̗͠Ṳ̴̈́." The many voices chorused in my head.
I close my eyes, panicked thoughts racing, then took a step.
Burning. It was hot, but not painful.
Step.
The light filled my eyes even closed.
Step.
The beat of many wings felt like a gale.
Step.
I reach out and something grabs me, surrounding me with light and wings. I can feel my sins singeing the purity of the feathers and light around me. I wasn't meant to touch perfection.
I open my eyes but I cannot see, blinded by radiance.
"Y̶̝̼̅̉̚Ọ̷̃͐U̷͈̯͗͝ ̴͉͝C̸̜̊H̸̥͊̽̔Ọ̷̏̈́͠S̵̞̀̊E̵͙̍ ̷͖͙͔̂̇M̷̧̲͗͗͝È̴̠̟?̴̼͋̓͜" The voices, so beautiful, sounded... scared, filled with disbelief. I didn’t know if I could trust my ears but that voice made *sense.*
I swallow, still fearful, curling in on myself to try and reduce my sins ruining this terrifying... no this perfect being.
"We humans.... we have this... thing... called the 'uncanny valley'." | 2022-01-29T09:24:33 | 2022-01-29T09:14:54 | 36 | 24 |
[WP] The hero disappears overnight, and the only one who looks is the villain. Not their "friends", not their family, not the news reporters or any of the people who claim to love them. Just the villain. | You know the thing about being a super villain? You’re always destined to lose. You’re never supposed to win. No matter what vile scheme you concoct, no matter how dastardly the plot, the hero (and I use that term with the utmost snide) will always come in and botch your plan.
Such was the case of my plots. My name is Zorgrom, the bringer of Chaos! Yes, it’s a tacky name. And no, it’s not intentional. For years my arch nemesis, Tariel would battle with me. My countless machines and minions versus his unique and light given abilities. I would threaten the world, he would swoop in and save it. It turned from this plot to rule the world into some kind of sick and twisted game, and that’s saying something coming from me.
Like I said, I’d come up with a scheme and he’d swoop in and bring me to jail. I’d bust out and do it again! But…not this time. Something changed this time. My latest plot was to hold the UN hostage, and with them in custody take over the world. I expected Tariel to just burst through the ceiling in his stupid white and gold suit, and spout off some ridiculous good guy motto. But… he never came. I sat there for a day before anyone did anything outside. By that point, I had won. My drones took over all the police and militaries with utmost ease. I was rich, I was respected, I was feared!!!
But if I will be honest, I never did it to win. I was a villain because Tariel was the hero. It was our little game. Cops and robbers if you would. By that point…I began to wonder what happened to him. Other villains commented on my newfound rule, telling me to forget Tariel. “He was the reason for so many of your failures, no need to remember the past!”
And I did try to put it out of my mind. I truly did. But no amount of food, drink, or sex could take my mind off it. Eventually, I had enough. I had to go looking.
It’s been four weeks since my search began. And I’ve managed to finally figure out his secret identity. Aaron Oxford, a graduate from Harvard of all places, was chosen by some goody-two shoes god of light to be its champion.
But when I swooped by his apartment…something was off. The entire place was wrecked. Walls were busted, windows shattered, and the whole place reeked of some kind of foul odor. I couldn’t even make sense of it. My drones informed me that there was a massive discharge of energy at the location, but nothing was confirmed. A sinking feeling grew in my gut.
Just how much of his Light-God did I know? And was I the one true villain he always had time for? Or was there something else at work? I didn’t quite know what was happening, but this is something I must investigate.
Tariel may have been my greatest foe, but he was also the only real friend I think I may have ever had. Even if the world doesn’t think so, I owe my life to him. Talk about being a sad piece of work, am I right? | Chapter 1: Spirited away
--------
The room was brightly lit thanks to the cristal chandeliers high above, there was an enormous mirror on one wall and a big bookcase full of books about magic as well as a study. There was some wooden debris from the massive door that now, laid half destroyed and out of its hinges. The smell of blood still fresh mixed with the one from the incense, bodies of temple guards littered the ground, some of them were dead but others had just been wounded and lay moaning in pain. In the center of the room there was a large table, and on it there was the body of a young man dressed like a priest, he had long black hair, his eyes were closed and his mouth was open as if he was trying to scream.
Akin the Forlorn, master wizard of the arcanum was inspecting the mirror while his trusty servant, Jardahmu was healing the wounded. "He's gone," Akin said after a moment of silence, looking at the mirror, "But how did he did it?" He pondered, "I can't believe that someone wihout magic could use the mirror like this when, I, master of master, couldn't. I have never heard of such a thing before." He turned around and looked at the table where the young man was lying, "Why would he leave without saying anything? He was my enemy after all, wouldn'tmake sense to chasse me? To try to kill me once for all? Why kill the poor monks? They were innocent"
Thiseus Cœur-de-Lion was the most powerful human alive, he was an hero amongst heros and he had vowed to protect Pontera. When Akin came with his followers they both clashed countless times. The brawl of the hero against the brains of the wizard, iron versus magic, one versus many, young versus old. Thiseus was stronger than Akin and he defeated him each time but the later always escaped. This time he had vanished through the magic mirror and his last words were lost to the wind.
"It's strange..." Akin muttered, "All these years trying to use the mirror and this lad comes in and just.. puff himself away using it? How!" He raged against his reflection.
"Don't worry, my lord, we'll find him one way or another" Said Jardahmu approaching her master.
Akin nodded, "Yes, I swear. Even if it takes a houndred years or a thousand" | 2021-12-28T19:23:42 | 2021-12-28T18:04:00 | 152 | 31 |
[WP] They've just invented a 500,000 frame per second video camera. The problem is that they've found something unexpected at those speeds | “Its how fast?” David asked, a skeptical tone in his voice.
“Okay, I’ll try to put it in layman’s terms.” Gavin replied, his coffee going unnoticed on the table in front of him, “Let’s say a normal camera runs at something like 24 frames per second. Ours runs much faster than that. Much, much faster. A couple hundred thousand more.”
David took a sip from his cup. “So it’s a really fast camera. I know you’ve been working on this project for a while now. Why call me all of a sudden, like its some kind of huge, crazy deal? I mean, look at yourself,” he gestured towards Gavin, “You’re a mess.”
“Because it is a big deal now,” Gavin said, reaching up, and failing to slick down his messy hair. “It was just supposed to be an experiment. First, to see if we could actually create something like this, and after that, use it to do other experiments. See how light waves work, that kind of thing… But David,” He said, leaning in conspiratorially, “I found something.”
“You found something?” David asked, his eyebrow rising. “Like what? How bugs mate or something?”
“No.” Gavin whispered back, probably not even realizing David’s joke. “Out of all those hundreds of thousands of frames, almost every single one of them were what we expected. A really, really, really slowed down video of our lab. Except for one. A fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a second, there was one frame of… something.”
David took another sip from his cup, but let Gavin continue.
“It was pretty much a pitch black frame, and so every one of my colleagues just dismissed it, a glitch, something like that. But, I’m not only an engineer, I’m a photography nerd, and whenever you’re taking very short exposures, you need A LOT of light. And so, I treated each one of these ‘almost pitch black’ frames as a single exposure. Out of all the millions of frames, there would be a ‘black’ frame occasionally. So I merged them, which effectively 'lightened' them up… and I found something.”
Now David was leaning forward, his interest piqued. “And? What was it?
Gavin, took a breath in, preparing himself, and finally said: “It was a picture… of our lab.”
“Your lab?” David sighed, sinking back into his chair, “So what? A picture of your lab, hidden in between other pictures of your lab. Is this all you really called me over here fo-“
“Obviously it wasn’t just a picture of my lab,” Gavin interrupted with a wave of his hand, “I mean, it was the lab, but it was different. Very subtly different, but enough that I could tell.”
Confused, David motioned for Gavin to continue.
“Listen, do you know what parallel universes are?” He asked, his voice a bit shrill, and then continued after David nodded. “Well, I think I stumbled across a parallel universe. Not just peering into some crazy alternate dimension that has nothing to do with us, but taking a glimpse at something that already exists. Here,” he said, motioning with his hand at the small coffee shop around them, “A whole other world, which is here, existing, but just out of phase with us in time, just enough that we can’t interact with it, or even see it, especially when we didn’t know it even existed.”
Gavin paused and collected his thoughts for a moment. “So, I panned the camera around, and wrote a pretty basic script to collect all of these frames and mash them together. It takes a little while, but I can usually get a ‘picture’ of these frames every thirty minutes or so. When I finally got a good panoramic of the room… I saw something else.”
Gavin took a ragged breath in. His clothes were disheveled and wrinkly, and his eyes were bloodshot, and wet, as if he had been crying earlier.
“There were things in the lab, David.” He said, putting his head into his hands, and speaking quietly into the tablecloth. “They were grotesque, and just absolutely horrible. I saw my colleagues, working in the lab, just like they were on ‘my side’ of the monitor, But they were monstrosities, faces twisted in abject horror, mouths agape and screaming.”
“David,” He said through clenched teeth, his eyes moving up from the table, “If you were to see evil, you would know. Pure evil, which would only want to consume you, entirely. Physically and metaphysically… I saw evil, David, there is no other word for it.”
David reached towards Gavin, his friend of many years, “Listen Gavin, there must be some explanation.”
Gavin squeezed the tablecloth between his fingers, “That’s not all. I panned the whole room, I saw something else. I saw myself… The evil, twisted, other-me. He was holding a camera David.”
He looked back up, locking eyes with David, tears streaming down his face. “They saw me… They know we’re here now."
------
Thanks everyone for all the responses, and gold? Wow, you guys are awesome. I don't write very often, so it means a lot. Figured I'd write a little bit more inspired by this prompt. Let me know if you like it!
[Part Two](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2v4tpk/pi_frames_per_second/) | It all started when someone asked the question, "What if we could?" As with most creations, what drove us to create was simply our quest for answering that question. What if we could? What would we see?
The science was difficult, to say the least. To put it into perspective, it was easier to slow down the frames per second to 450,000 than it was to slow it down to 450,001. Each additional frame we slowed down took twice as much time as the one prior. But, what if we could?
We weren't creating peace on earth, we weren't solving hunger. We were simply trying to quench our thirst for knowledge. We wanted to know... no, we *needed* to know what we would see if we could take a video of something that the human eye could simply not imagine. We wanted to see, light. It travels so fast that for most of human history, we thought it simply existed, and didn't fathom that it was actually travelling. You switch on a light switch in a room, and light exists all around you, instantaneously, in every corner and every knook. It wasn't until we started asking why, that we started learning more about Light. The Stars in the night sky appear to be shimmering right at us, existing simultanously with us in this Universe of ours. But the truth is, their light took a very long time and travelled a very long distance to come to us. What we are essentially doing, is looking into the past.
Those Stars are billions and trillions of miles away from us, and we can't even be sure if they exist anymore. But what if we could see light that surrounds us, the light that exists all around us? What does it look like? What is it doing? Those were the two questions we put most of our focus on. The question we blatently disregarded were, "What would happen to the viewer?" "Are we meant to see it?"
It was always going to be me to first see it. It was my idea, and it was my question. In hindsight, I should have told someone I was going to turn the Video Camera on. I should have told them that I was coming into the office at 2 in the morning on the day of the test and running it myself. I wanted to be the first one to see it, I *needed* to be the first one to see it. Hindsight is, as they say, 20/20.
I'll always remember the first day after I ran the test. I guess I can't really call it a day, but I can't think of anything else to call it, so a 'day' it is. Its strange how long it took me to realize what happened. You never really know how still the world around you is, until it is completely still. Either that, or I never really knew how little attention I paid to my surroundings. I was disapointed, to I paid extra little attention to my surroundings. The expirement had failed, I saw nothing through the Camera. Nothing happened. Nothing, except for the fact that the Camera stopped working after the first try. I thought I fried it. Thought.
It was at least a good four hours later when I first noticed something was different in the world. And what finally tipped me off, was the movement of a floating leaf; or rather, the lack there of. I was leaving my house to go face the wrath of my lab, and it floated a few feet from my front door. At first I thought it was caught in an updraft. Then I thought that it was hanging by some sort of string, maybe caught in a spider's web. I must have spent a good 15 minutes staring and observing the leaf in utter disbelieve. And than, finally, I started to look around, and realized the leaf wasn't a single occurance. *Nothing* was moving, everything was completely frozen.
Of course, months later, and after thorough research was when I found out that the world had not frozen around me, rather it was moving at a speed so slow that my eyes couldn't realize it. Everything was moving less than a millimetre each day. Everything except me.
On the bright side, at least now I have more time. More time to do my research, more time to read and learn more. More time to do anything I want to. But it sure is lonely moving so exponentially fast that everything around you seems as it is frozen forever. I never even begin to think how lonely it is to be light. Maybe one day I'll be able to slow down and match the rest of the world in speed. But I really doubt it. But still, the question remains... *What if I could?* | 2015-02-06T14:36:31 | 2015-02-06T14:36:14 | 241 | 26 |
[WP] You wake up in a forest after being dead for some time. A woodland creature nibbles at your corpse, and is suddenly zombified. It spreads further and further, until you have an accidental undead army trying to serve you, and you just want to die. You're the new reluctant Lich Lord. | It was the year of our Lord 1299 when I died. I had been a courier beset upon by robbers in the woods. It was quick. They broke my horse with a steel rod hidden until the last moment. We both fell forward and she landed on me. My chest was crushed. I remember the horrible pressure in my head for a few moments, but then silence.
I awoke not knowing that two years had passed. A fox was chewing on my leg when I came to as a monster. He had barely drawn first blood when he suddenly convulsed in seizure. A few moments of panicked terror, a few moments more of silent breathlessness, and he stood as my familiar. We both instantly knew his name was Blorg. The universe named him, and we accepted without question. I instantly felt an invisible connection where I saw and felt what he did. His eyes glowed with a brilliant blue.
Then, my day became horrible.
He had parasites. The mites, ticks, and other buggers suddenly filled my consciousness as well. Then the bugs too small to see in his belly died and were reborn under my spell. It was overwhelming, agonizing, and disorienting. I spent an hour trying to cope with the sudden stimulation.
I changed Blorg. I could feel everything about him and could change him as I saw fit. All the bugs on him lined up along his spine. A black stripe appeared along his back. The bugs in his belly became ravenous and Blorg was infused with energy from their activity. We were both suddenly extremely alive and extremely hungry.
I gave Blorg permission to go hunt and directed him to kill extra for me. A mosquito on my leg entered my mind and stood at attention. I directed him to confirm I was near the same place where I died.
It never occurred to me that having sudden control of animals that tried to eat me was strange. Frankly, I was too preoccupied with a magically functioning torso, keeping my sanity together with multiple souls, and trying to figure out why I wasn't dead.
The bugs in my belly were quickly burning through my food reserves. They calmed down at my direction. Mosquito indeed confirmed my position relative to where I remember being last, meaning I knew of a checkpoint a few miles away.
My horse carcass was nowhere to be seen. Oh well.
I needed to see the king's magician as soon as possible. I needed to pick his brain. Gods, I was hungry. | My undead eyes trained on lights sprayed across the black depth of sky. Wind moving leaves, branches shivering. Stars shimmering through. Cold this night, if I could feel--but not as cold as being alone.
Noises haunt these lands now. When moonlight is shrouded mystery reigns. Rustling, timbering, galloping, scratching, scurrying. Noises haunt the lands while I sink like a soul trapped in a bog.
Minions, these. Mindless fleshy underlings. Gurgling rodents and squeaking bones. Muscle burned off lanky deer carcasses, with eyes red as dewy caridinals in sunlight. Even the leftovers of a bear, hounded by a raggedy wolf pack, lumbering over snapping rotted roots. Standard-bearers, the fallen eagles and hawks, dragging broken wings of impoverished plume.
Foreign laughter, there below, in the fertile valley. Soft lights from cottage windows, a plaza and a small bell tower. Merriment, music, and play climbing our dark forest hills. I am aware, and so we are all.
We must go there now. They must know me. Can they not love me? Do they not want me and mine?
Onward, slowly, unstoppably, my retinue surges on our midnight march. Life is over, but death has only begun.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Thanks for reading! You can follow me at /r/velabasstuff | 2020-07-15T22:52:53 | 2020-07-15T20:43:36 | 140 | 86 |
[WP] someone is breaking into your house. You grab an ancient axe you've just bought at an auction and brain the burglar. All of the sudden all life-skills and knowledge of all that have been felled by that axe come flooding into your consciousness. | His blood splatters against a garbage-picked Van Gogh print, the second casualty of the evening. A chorus of laughter erupts. I try to wrench the axe out of my victim’s skull.
On the TV behind me, the star of a sitcom that failed four decades ago stands with his hands on his hips, smirking, waiting for the canned howls of the dead to shut up. He’s got another, even better punchline to deliver next.
I never hear it. As the axe comes loose and brains spills out onto my hardwood floors, I’m gripped by a foreign consciousness. It radiates from the birch wood in my hand, up through my finger tips and into my gut. It swirls there for a moment, a tumbling mass of voices, memories, regrets and unfinished business.
It branches out in every direction, flooding my body with the lives of every person to ever die by this axe: dozens, I later learn. Some I eventually catalogue and research. A few become friends. Others I close up deep inside me, never to look at again.
The first to reach my brain unpacks deliberately, like it’s a routine: I learn how to speak German. I learn what it feels like to be German. I relive scenes of a beautiful life cut short. I fall against my new fridge. My back hits the sensor and crushed ice starts pouring out. I drop to the floor, babbling in old German phrases that, only seconds ago, meant nothing to me.
The dead people on TV laugh some more, and then they cheer. Someone kissed someone they should’ve kissed a long time ago.
Someone got an axe to the back of the neck for doing that two hundred years before anyone I know was born. I was there.
Hours pass in a procession of old souls meeting mine. I feel like I'm greeting strangers at a funeral for someone I loved but didn't truly know. I wait by the casket and shake hands with an endless line of their old friends, coworkers, cousins, and lovers. I remember their faces and through these handshakes I learn their deepest secrets.
The intruder is there. Unlike the others this is his first time, and he’s scared. He has nothing to say and nothing to impart to me. In time, he will. To him we skip the handshake. He is still clinging to life. Not ready. So it’s on to the next one. I lose all trace of time and space.
Sun streams through the kitchen windows. The line ends. I smell brains and blood across the room, warming in the golden rays like hot tar. Things I used to think were essential to consciousness. I now recognize them as cheap props.
*Is that everyone?* I ask the axe. No. I feel it. One left. One that did not move across my body like the others. This one is different. This consciousness is older than the others – so much older.
I beckon it forward. I feel like an expert now, a wise old hand. *Come to me*, I say, *let me know you. Let me carry you as I must now carry the others.*
It stirs. It wants to come closer but it doesn’t know how. Instead of movement, it knows only growth. It transmits this to me, with a sadness and pain that have brewed for centuries.
*So grow*, I say. A recognition. A contemplation. A response.
*As you wish.*
From its place in my abdomen, the consciousness sends out tendrils, downward at first, then they curve up, finding the contours of my nervous system and following in turn. Their pattern feels familiar, as they branch and rebranch, wrapping around my insides and fanning ever outward. I can see them in a picture book.
What are they? I know the answer. What is the word?
*Rot.*
No. Not German. I need English. My tongue, my tongue.
*Root*. Yes. They are roots. And as they reach my brain, it becomes clear who this last consciousness is. I know why it stayed behind and dug in, as its kind has done for millions of years. It answers me with a radiance of life through all its roots.
*I am the first felled. I am the instrument.*
I start to cry. The pain I feel is like my own; more than my own, if that’s possible. The guilt of a murder weapon imprisoned in an endless timeline. The lives of every victim meet here, under its shade. They grow like fruit. It must watch and know what its own body has wrought.
*Birch*, I say, as if a label can be a name. It accepts this crude cross-species translation.
*I am Birch. Who are you?*
*Human*, I say. Seems only fair.
*Human*, the Birch says, *return this instrument. Reunite this branch with the others. End this.*
The Birch senses my fear and apprehension. I don't even need to say it. Soon, we will never have to say anything to each other again. This will be the purest communication either of us have ever known.
*I will show you the way.*
I fill my hiking backpack with everything I could need on the journey. What can’t fit goes into the car. Once I hit the East Coast, I’ll need to find a way across the Atlantic. The body here, disposal of the intruder, will slow me down.
I explain this but the Birch doesn’t understand this human custom for clearing felled brethren. To the Birch, this bloody corpse is a log – it must remain in its place and give rise to an ecosystem of its own. To disturb it is foolish.
I dial 911. As one part of me speaks, the other parts, dozens, commune and pool knowledge, joining together in a quest that will give closure to every tangled life cut short by this axe. Even the intruder, still a broken soul torn between worlds, inches closer to hear the discussion. One day, him and I will love one other like brothers.
Three days later, with an ancient axe on my passenger seat, I leave my home forever, in search of a Birch tree I have never seen, but will always hear. | It happened the moment the axe cleaved into his head.
I let go of it, and the man fell, the axe still embedded in his face as I gasped and reeled back.
It was barely an instant, but the sudden memories, the sudden experiences of strangers overwhelmed my mind. It was as if my head was forcibly plunged in the coldest waters.
I tried to make sense of it all. The screams, the rage. Without meaning to, I tapped into a forgotten breathing technique to calm myself. Someone who died by the axe knew of this variation of Pranayama, the breathing technique I now employed to ease my heart rate as I saw the dead man lying before me, his blood pooling and spreading.
How?
I collapsed, and stared at the axe. I saw them. Visions of violence. People of various ethnicities and cultures, in different points in history, all pleading in languages I could not possibly know but somehow still understood.
All begging me not to kill them.
No, not me. The wielder of the axe.
I continued staring at the weapon.
As unseemly as it looked now, bloodied and driven half into flesh, it was still a plain axe. It's metal was a single piece, beaten and folded into the axe blade near the tip but left as a cylindrical rod for the handle. The handle itself was wrapped in leathers, stringy and cracked and falling apart.
It was to be a showpiece in my luxury apartment. A display of wealth. An ancient weapon buried eons ago only recently discovered. It's origin was still unknown as elements of it seemed to come from all over the world.
And it had felled many all over the world, as well.
I gulped down some vomit that threatened to escape my lips.
There was no way I was touching that axe again. I took out my phone, my hands shaking as I called the police.
______
I could not sleep that night, or the nights after. Nightmares where vaguely shaped men and women came at me with axe, swinging with evil intent. The dull, cracking sound it made when it broke through flesh and bone filled my dreams. And when I awoke I swore I could still smell the blood.
The police had told me what I had already known about the burglar. I had seen his life. I had seen everything leading to his death. A man born into poverty, unable to climb out. Turning to petty crime to make ends meet before becoming more and more bitter and more and more criminally inclined.
I had never seriously considered criminals from their point of view til today, and it left a could taste in my mouth as I slowly, with the now immense knowledge and first hand experiences throughout history I possessed, realised the capitalist dystopia I was part of and enabling.
I shook the thought away. My more immediate concern was the axe. It was in police hands, but they promised to return it after whatever it is they had to do. I was dreading the moment it was to come to my possession again.
On the other hand, it was better with me than anyone else. Right?
With the knowledge I possesed, though mostly it was of skills very specific to a certain era or a certain type of work in a particular village or region or country, I could contribute to the world at large, couldn't I?
That breathing technique, or that martial art form, or that language, or that particular herb mixture to simulate the effects of a painkiller medicine. Maybe some of these things were extinct to the world, persisting only as incomplete artefacts studied by historians.
But these things are ingrained in me now, because of the axe. They are part of my memories. I could call upon them. I could assume that martial stance as if I had been practicing every day, though I had never learned any kind of martial arts. I could stare at the night sky and name every constellation, though only yesterday I had to remember if planets also twinkled or was it just stars. My hands would assume the reigns of a horse carriage out of habitual motion, though I'd have never ridden on a horse carriage before.
These kinds of intimate knowledge that are so specific and particular have suddenly not been lost to the world. But the price of this knowledge was something no one should pay.
I thought of the axe carving through skin, and as the blood of the man touched the metal, it had sent the memories of all it had slain into me.
I had to tell someone of this. I could not keep this to myself. The knowledge could not die with me. But if I told anyone, would they use the axe with ill intent?
I tapped into the memories of a particular civilisation. Where for around fourteen generations, the axe was used by children to slay the old and dying. So the knowledge was passed down. They had seen the axe as a blessing, a way of their life. The wielder of the axe was their leader, for they possessed all the knowledge and skills to lead. And with each generation, the knowledge grew.
But that civilization was small, self-contained.
In this globalised world full of corruption and daylight deceits the axe simply could not fall into the wrong hands.
I was thinking too much. I had to wait. I had to get the axe back first. Until then I had time to ponder, to contemplate. | 2021-06-20T09:47:47 | 2021-06-20T09:32:31 | 1,437 | 72 |
[WP] Your roommate is obviously an alien trying to infiltrate humanity... but he pays the rent on time so you don't really care. | Walking up the stairs to my flat, I heard an odd, but consistent, thrum. It almost sounded like an engine. I thought about pushing the front door open, exposing whatever it was that my roommate, John Hugh Mann, was up to. However, it was a long day, and frankly, I didn't want the extra baggage of knowing whatever weird or invasive experiment he was running.
Rather than opening the door, I sighed, and knocked very loudly and calmly. "Hey John, I forgot my keys, could you get the door?" I asked, feigning frustration as I tucked my keys back into my pocket.
The thrum had abruptly stopped, I heard some odd squealing sound, and lastly, John replied, "Sure thing dood, Just a sec!" He spoke frantically and I heard shuffling around. I rolled my eyes, of course.
After a minute, John answered the door. "What's up, dood?" He asked, behaving as non chalauntly as a cybernetic alien could while hiding under the skin of a man that, I hoped, had already expired naturally before giving his skin over to John.
"Not much. Long day." I said, completely uninterested.
"Oh yeah, me too! Lots studying for the exam on Monday!" He spoke confidently, obviously comfortable that his ruse had fooled me once again.
"No classes Monday, man. Labor day." I said, beginning to shuffle through the mail that John had placed on the kitchen counter.
"Oh of course! What labor will we be performing?" John asked eagerly, wanting to participate in human culture.
"Look man, I'm leaving town for the weekend, and classes don't start til Tuesday. So you'll be on your own for four days." I didn't feel bad blowing him off, because for one, he was a *fucking alien*, and two, he didn't actually care to spend time with me. For him, it was all about blending in and pretending to be social.
The dude was on Earth to collect as much info on humanity as he could to create an assessment for if and when his kind decided to invade. Of course, they'd do it under a similar disguise as Johns. Unfortunately for them, they thought his disguise was bullet proof since I hadn't wised up to it.
John suddenly got serious. "If you are gone for four days for your labor, would you be alright if I had a party?"
He'd gotten my attention. "How many people are we talking?" I asked, continuing to flip through the mail without looking at it.
"Thirty one. Maybe fifty seven." He said, nervously.
I bit my lip. The *only* reason I put up with him was because he paid his rent and did all his weird and creepy shit behind my back. Inviting that many "people" over could ruin my chances at getting my deposit back.
I nodded, then said "No."
John wasn't too thrilled about that. "It's a study group. I need this for the exam on Monday." He pleaded.
Again, uninterested, I replied, "No classes on Monday, amigo."
John slammed his fist on the counter top suddenly, denting the marble.
I stiffled my terrified shiver and said, "Fine. Have people over, just enjoy yourself, John." I patted his arm and he smiled, unnaturally. "Listen, I forgot my wallet at work, I'll be back in a bit." I said, grabbing my coat. Son of a bitch was going to get my deposit taken away.
"See you later, dood!" John waved, staring at me until I closed the door behind me. As soon as I did, I heard the thrum and a squeal once again as he got back to work.
Sliding on my coat as I hustled down the stairs, I dialed the local FBI field office.
"Hi! Hello! Look, this is gonna sound nuts, but I'm pretty sure my roomate is building pipe bombs in our flat." | "Hey, Dad," I said after opening the door.
"Morning, Tim. How are things?"
"Great." I stepped through the door. "So for lunch, I was thinking-"
"Whoa, hold on," he said, laughing as he stopped me. "When do I get to meet this new roommate of yours?"
"Oh... I think he's busy."
"Timothy," a monotone voice said from inside the apartment. "I require assistance with the H2O dispenser unit."
I cleared my throat and took a step back. "Well, I... I guess you can meet him now. Just a heads up that he's a little unique."
"Don't worry, Tim," he said with a laugh. "I had a couple college roommates who were more than a little... um..."
He trailed off at the sight of my roommate holding a cat in the kitchen sink.
"Dad, meet my roommate, Muhammad."
"Muhammad Smith," he said, extending a hand for a handshake.
"Nice to uh... meet you, Muhammad." He reluctantly reached out and shook the young man's hand which was still dripping wet and covered in cat hair. "That's an interesting name. Very... unique."
"To the contrary. They are the most common names on Earth."
My dad nodded politely. "I suppose they are. It's just not a name you hear too often here in Wisconsin. Especially not from a gentleman who is... Hispanic."
"Yes, but I am a Human of Earth."
"Citizen of the World," I interjected. "Citizen of the World was the phrase that we practiced... the phrase he meant to say, I mean."
"Well that's great," my dad said. "So, uh, washing your pet I see."
"This creature is not subservient to me. I located him outside of this edifice near our waste disposal bins."
"I see," my Dad said, wiping his hand on his jeans.
"I seek to understand more regarding how Earth animals react to H2O."
"Animals," I muttered. "Not Earth animals... just animals."
"With time, perhaps you will understand what it means to be subservient to another species the way you expect this Earth feline to -"
"Well, Muhammad, I'm glad you guys got to meet," I said. "But we have to take off. I'll touch bases with you later."
"I shall be here, Timothy."
As I shut the door to my apartment, my Dad stopped me. "Listen, Tim. I'm glad you were able to find another roommate. Really, I am. I know that break-up was difficult on you and companionship is always great. But I just want to make sure you're not rushing into any-"
"Timothy." Muhammad burst through the apartment door, exposing a face covered in claw marks. "The Earth feline has become bellicose. I must run further experiments. When you return, bring me enough sustenance for this animal for at least 150 Earth days."
The door slammed shut.
"So, where were you thinking for lunch?" I asked. | 2018-08-13T16:38:37 | 2018-08-13T16:15:31 | 812 | 498 |
[WP] The supervillain sighs in frustration as he looks at the group of superheroes. "Alright raise your hands if you are adults?" he said. None of them did it. "This battle is canceled and tell your mayor we need to talk! today!" he said angrily.
Whoa, I came back after chores, mobile games, and anime to see so many stories and a handful of awards. I'll read them all in the morning | Alright, this is my first time but this prompt is too good to leave unwritten.
&#x200B;
"Let me get this straight," Ignoble frustratedly barked, "None of you are adults?"
"Now that I think about it, yeah, none of us are." Replied one of the younger heroes.
"Alright, I understand now," Ignoble stated as he rubbed at his temples, "mayor Lucius is going to have some explaining to do. Will the oldest of you please step forward to speak with me?"
The leader of the heroes stepped forward, Riot was your classic superhero, super strength, super speed. As he stepped forward Ignoble beckoned him into a more private room of the lair.
"first of all, how old are you?" Ignoble queried as he began typing on a nearby computer.
"sixteen," Riot shyly responded, "did we do something wrong? I've never been in a situation like this before."
"You have got to be kidding me, SIXTEEN?!? You aren't even old enough to get a power license without parental consent!" As Ignoble finished up on the computer a display popped up with the mayor drinking a martini and speaking to a beautiful lady, "Hello Lucius."
"Jerold! This isn't a good time! Marceline would you mind giving me privacy while I speak to my... acquaintance?" As he said this a door audibly opened and closed, "Ignoble, we talked about this, I'll call you. This isn't some friendship where you can just call whenever you like."
"You'll have to forgive me, or actually not, it should be you begging for forgiveness," Upon spitting this out Ignoble gestured for Riot to enter the frame, "I was just speaking with my friend Riot here, it has been brought to my attention that you are employing minors in your little PR stunts."
Mayor Lucius was mortified, he stammered as he tried to find an explanation that didn't leave him as the villain. "I don't know what you are talking about, Riot, you're a minor?
As Mayor Lucius said this he visibly contemplated how he threw the hero under the bus, however Riot may have been phased, but he was not about to be scapegoated.
"But mayor, you are the one that personally conscripted the academy to have us do this." Riot shot back, understanding dawning in his eyes.
"THE ACADEMY!?!" Ignoble bellowed out, "You PERSONALLY conscripted powered individuals from Maximillian's academy?!?! Are you aware how many laws you are breaking? Not only are you employing minors, but those minors are supposed to be in protective custody because they can't control their powers yet!!!"
"I. I. I will not be lectured by a super villain! You have nerve speaking to me this way, Riot, arrest him now!" Shouted the mayor, his face turning red as a tomato.
"YOU WILL NOT!" Ignoble escalated his voice further, "WE HAD A DEAL!!! I put your little dumpster fire of a city into the limelight, because you were jealous of all the press the bigger cities were getting with their big heroes, and big super villains. I agreed to this because you said you would pardon me and let me into the superhero program! I DID NOT SIGN UP TO FIGHT CHILDREN!!!"
The mayor's face had gone beyond red, he looked like he was about to either explode or pass out. Lucius fumbled with something in his hand. "You need to stop Ignoble, it has come to my attention that you have taken several minors hostage, I recommend you prepare to surrender."
With that the call cut out, "What now?" Riot inquired of Ignoble, "I had no Idea that what we've been involved in was illegal."
"Don't worry, I'll ensure that you and your friends won't get in trouble, make your way back to the academy and speak to Maximillian himself, tell him about what's happened here and everything Mayor Lucius has instructed you to do."
"What will you do?" Implored Riot, "I doubt that threat was empty."
As Riot said this Ignoble's eyes began to glow red, his skin slowly shifted into a silvery material which then began to heat up.
"I'm going to show that piece of scum what I learned at the academy."
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So this was pretty fun to write, I'm open to feedback and suggestions to how I can improve. Have a great day. | "WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK CHARLES?!" The supervillian known as the Red Reaper slammed down another glass of Mayor Reinfelt's expensive bourbon. He was mad. No, not mad, *livid!* With the Mayor seated firmly at his desk, counting the number of drinks being kicked back, and the trio of superheroes known as the Rooftop Rumblers sitting on a couch looking as worried as teens who parents were just called, The Red Reaper had control... no he had *command* of their attention.
The Mayor cleared his throat and stated, solemnly, "This is kinda your fault, you know."
The Red Reaper turned his gaze upon him. Most people would cower and promptly wet themselves, but after being kidnapped three times and wearing adult diapers, the Mayor was used to it. "My fault for sending underaged... no, *children* out to fight?! I'm evil, but I'm not a fucking asshole!"
The Mayor stood up. "Look, last month, you found out the Silver Trooper's weakness and --"
"No I didn't."
"You put him in the hospital, in a coma!"
"Yeah, I beat the hell out of him! Don't need a weakness for that."
"Whatever, point is he quit. His insurance won't cover him for anymore super-related injuries. Premiums are high enough. We can't hire in any other supers to cover his spot as we're required. I had to use a clause in the city's laws to use home grown superheroes. And even then, I needed permission."
The Red Reaper pointed at them and said, "Home grown? They're not even done with High School!"
Pepper said, "We graduate this year."
The Red Reaper turned on them and, in a softer voice, "Look, kids, you've got a life ahead of you. If we had fought, you likely would *not* be graduating. I am a Class 4 supervillian. You guys are barely Class 1s."
Punch asked, "What do you mean Class 1?"
"Oh god, they're not even registered?" He turned on the Mayor. "You're using *unregistered* supers? What the actual FUCK?!"
The Mayor, needing a change of clothing, shouted, "Fuck you! I keep telling you every time you kidnap me that your plots aren't sustainable! I can't let a supervillian go uncontested, but I can't kick you out without... No, screw this. I'm done dealing with you." He picked up the phone on his desk. "I'm making a call I should have made when I was first kidnapped."
The Red Reaper was shocked. "What... what are you doing."
"Hello, General Kibitz? This is Mayor Reinfelt of Hurricane City. I am formally asking for help in handling a Class 4 supervillian. ... Yes, I know what that means. ... You let the insurance worry about that. ... Them? They're here in my office. ... I'll tell them. Thank you, General."
He hung up the phone and looked at the Red Reaper. "There. You forced my hand. They're sending someone to handle this."
Party, who looked very disturbed, said, "Y-you mentioned General Kibitz. W-who are they sending?"
The Mayor narrowed his eyes at the Red Reaper. "Pepper, Party, Punch, your moms are on the way." The Rumblers looked scared.
The Red Reaper looked puzzled... no, *confused*. "Who are their moms?"
In a scared voice, Pepper said, "The Belladonna Brawlers."
"Oh no." | 2021-04-01T10:13:28 | 2021-04-01T09:43:57 | 2,496 | 474 |
[WP] due to an exciting new ammendment to the constitution, service and restaurant workers are legally allowed to backhand one customer a day. | She sat there with her plate half empty. Fry bits scattered the table like toys in a toddler room. Peanut shells littered the floor; she dropped them one by one as she grinned at Lucy from afar.
"That fucking bitch", Lucy mouthed to her self. Lucy watched from the pit as the mess piled up. She told the Hank that all you can eat night was a bad idea but the seats needs butts.
"Excuse me", the woman yelled with her hand flailing in the air. "I'm gonna need another steak, this one is cold. Also, a fresh plate of fries, better make them loaded, and a new drink, this one is flat."
Lucy excused herself while she reached to clear the unwanted plates. "Excuse me, what the do you think you're doing? Did I say I was done with that?"
"I just thought since you ordered fresh food that.."
"Leave the thinkin' to the professionals", the woman said snidly. "If I wanted these plates gone, I would have said so. I understand that you are just a waitress. Let's be honest, it doesn't take a degree in rocket sciece to do this job. You take my order; you get my order; you go back and wait until I need something else. How hard is it really?"
Lucy could feel the blood rushing to her face. She turned and walked toward the kitchen to put in the new order. "Six more minutes", she said aloud.
"What was that you said", hank yelled from the back.
"Six more minutes Hank", she yelled back angrily.
"Lucy, I can't tell you no but five days in a row. You need to keep your cool."
"Hank, I love you like a brother but if you want me to quit keep talking."
Hank walked in the back without saying another word
Two minutes
"OH miss, is my food ready yet? I've been waiting for a very long time."
One more minute.
Lucy grabbed the plates from the kitchen rack.
30 seconds.
She walked ever so carefully to the woman's table, making sure to count every step; to ensure the food doesn't fall by accident.
10 seconds
Lucy rearranged the table to make room for the fresh food.
7:43pm
"You can take these plates away now. Turns out I didn't want them after all. Not with this fresh stuff here. Oh, I need napkins."
Lucy smiled at the woman. She turned away from her and paused for a moment. Her grin was as wide as the Grinche's when he stole Christmas. Lucy brought the back of her right hand to her mouth and brushed her tongue across it.
"Anything else ma'am", Lucy asked.
"Well now that you mention it.."
Before the woman could finish, Lucy spun around, backhanding the woman across the face with rage that had been channeling all evening. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed through the diner. The woman cried out with shrieks like a banshee before fainting in her booth.
23 hours and 56 minutes. | "Hey CJ you wanna go out for lunch?" Mike asked as he held my office door.
"I brought lunch again today." I said while I subconsciously rub my left cheek.
"Aw man you're still scared of that asshole Jake at that sub shop? I heard he's off today and that Mexican lady is probably covering for him. I've been slapped by that woman and it's not that bad."
I ponder for a bit. I've been getting bored of my home-made lunches and I do miss my favorite sandwich at that place which I haven't had for months since that new "slap a customer" law came out.
"Ok fine I'll go. I can't always live in fear."
"There ya go CJ! Hey Angie! CJ's coming out to lunch come along!" Mike called out across the office.
All three of us walk a few blocks away to the sub shop and line up along with the rest of the lunch crowd.
Angie was first in line and got her order. Angie was almost about to leave but the Mexican lady called her and reminded her of the slap.
"Oh sorry!" then Angie presented her cheek to the old lady for it to get smacked lightly.
They chuckle as Angie said "Thanks for lunch, Rosita" and Rosita nods.
"Ya know I just learned your name today. The regular please, Rosita" said Mike.
Mike got his sandwich and coke and a quick smack on the face for his trouble. "See ya soon ,Rosita!"
I was looking at the menu to check if anything new caught my fancy and when it was time to give my order to Rosita she was replaced by a big guy who I knew too well.
"Uh, where's Rosita?" I asked
"She's on break. What's your order?"
"I'll have a Reuben and a Coke, please"
The order came in quickly and I braced my self for the slap and presented my cheek to Jake. he warms up, cracks his knuckles and I see him wind up for the slap. I close my eyes but nothing happens.
"You get a pass today, sorry about the last time, I had a bad day and took it out on you and might have slapped too hard."
"Oh cool. Thanks, Jake"
"You too, Man"
All three of us walk back to the office. Some days people just have bad days and lash out. | 2021-10-05T23:30:31 | 2021-10-05T20:39:18 | 498 | 31 |
[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. | Ive never submitted anything- and hopefully this doesn't suck as much as I think it does.
He came in through my window, creeping slowly through the bedroom door, down the hall into the bathroom and that's when my father crumbled to the floor.
As he left, he turned to me and that's when I caught the grey in his dark eyes. I soon fell under his spell and forgot about my poor fathers demise.
Although it was My fathers soul, he intended to take - he had no way of knowing that it was my love he'd awake.
From a child to a girl, to a woman I grew and yet he never returned. That's the moment that I knew.
My stepfather who abused me, my mother and her lies, my brother who tortured me - everybody. everybody dies.
My mother got the ax, my brother got the gun, my step father well - he got the chainsaw just for fun.
As I stood in the blood of those I hated the most - the smoke slowly rolled in and in walked my ghost.
He collected the souls that he came to take - "wait." I called to him. "Don't - don't go." My voice begins to break.
"My need for you, my want for you, my love - it grows deeper. Everything I've done- I've done for you, please stay my darling reaper. "
"My soul is black, and my heart - well it's gone
Stop, foolish girl. Your thoughts? They are wrong."
"But I love you." I begged
Silence, was his reply
"Say something.. say anything. Please." I cry.
"Take me with you- I'll go. I can be your queen of the dead. I'll be the beat in your heart and the warmth in your bed."
"You kill for a love that will never exist, you pine for the dead- you beg- you persist. I will not take you with me - and that is true - there is nothing you can say. There is nothing you can do."
But there is one thing I have, a trick up my sleeve - a Pistol with a bullet loaded, cocked and ready, just for me. "We will be together soon." "Oh" he asked. "How do you figure?" That's when I put the gun in my mouth and in that moment, pulled the trigger.
| "We have to stop meeting like this." The deep reverberation goes right through her rib-cage into her lungs and and pounding heart.
"But you're so dark and handsome. And eternal" as she traces a hand over his admittedly sharp jawline. He smiles at her, but of course... he's always smiling.
"No my dear, I mean the third wheel." And they look over at the hyperventilating accountant, her latest victim, pulling out his hair screaming at sight of his own body. He looks like he's about to have a heart attack... Again. "Ah, but it's time to get back to work".
"No, not so soon. Let's meet again, just you and me. I know a place. Secluded." He nods and smiles, of course.
Later, he comes for her, alone. She's deep in the earth. She's well prepared. Sleeping pills, canister, bag, a bed she somehow managed to get down here. The lube he understood, but also condoms and tissues... as if that would be an issue. The goth getup is a little much.
He's not supposed to, but... well... he's already gotten his hands dirty in this one. No one will care if he gives it a little nudge. She's overly excited and as her body finally gives up the ghost? Down comes the scythe and she's on the express to down-under. He's gotten plenty of advice from clients. Never stick your bone in crazy.
| 2017-06-07T21:48:28 | 2017-06-07T19:31:34 | 25 | 14 |
[WP] When a child comes of age their greatest quality manifests itself as a familiar that will follow them for life. You just turned 21 and you still didn't have one, until this morning when two showed up and they terrify you. | I was 21 when they came.
I was always told that sometimes familiars came late. I didn't really mind, to be honest; I'm told that having a familiar is like having a pet, a guardian, and a friend all in one. I was kind of a loner anyways, preferring to stay in my room most of the time and play video games from sunrise to sundown on weekends. Not exactly healthy, but I didn't care. I had a stable job though, working at my mother's dog grooming shop as I was generally too anxious and socially awkward to work somewhere else with better pay.
But it was a Friday when they showed up. I had the day off today due to heavy snow - I live in Washington, near the coast, if you need clarification.
The first one was astonishing; it was more like a blob of light than anything, though it was able to take shape of anything it or I wanted it to be. A tiny bug, a colossal whale, a twisted beast from Dark Souls or some other piece of media. That one represented my creativity, my ideas, my hopes and dreams.
The other however, was more along the lines of an placid eldritch god; it too was able to change it's shape like the first one, but it's primary 'form' was something I have trouble describing; so many legs, as many as a centipede's, more eyes than a millipede, and yet it was so kind despite it's horrifying appearance.
That one represented a few things like the other.
Anxiety. Depression from back when I was in school. Things I hate about myself. A desire to improve. A need to get better. Determination.
Of course at first I was incredibly scared; too scared to even scream for my mom and dad. But the darker one - the Eldritch one I now usually call it - simply rested it's body, which almost felt hot to the touch - and explained to me what it represented. How that I was destined for great things in my life, even if they seemed small to me, and they'd be always by my side until the day I died.
It still scares me a little bit, even today. Because when I get angry or sad or stressed or whatever it changes it's form to represent how I feel. A writhing ball of demonic energy, silently screaming. A sad little creature, curled up in my lap. A quivering being, with no mouth to scream.
When people see them they usually gawk and awe, point and stare. I don't mind; usually the Eldritch one takes the form of a dog to keep people from screaming in horror, though it always has the eyes and a few extra legs. The more angelic one so to speak takes the form of a nice fat snake coiled around my neck and shoulder.
I'm very glad to have these two with me. | "Hi Tommy" I'm your familiar said the beautiful angel.
Those were the first words I heard when I woke up and I was ecstatic with joy at finally manifesting my familiar and I felt so much warmth and comfort just being near her.
I hugged her and she hugged me back while ruffling my hair. I was so happy that I couldn't wait to show her off to my aunt and uncle. I started to yell "Aunt!, Unc..." but the angel told me to shush. "I'm going to take you to a better place Tommy and it'll just be our little secret" she said with her radiant smile. I nodded my head and agreed to leave with her secretly.
When we had just gotten to the front door a hand reached out from the shadows and grabbed me. It pulled me back and covered my mouth as I was about to scream.
"I don't know how you escaped but your ignorance will get all of us killed" the shadowy figure behind me roared at the angel. Black claws shot out from the shadowy figure and restrained the angel who didn't even try to struggle. I wanted to cry out for the angel to run away but she just kept smiling. Her last words were "I'll come back to take you to a better place next time Tommy" before the shadows ripped her apart and devoured the parts scattered on the ground and across the walls.
I was left to cry in the corner. I screamed at the shadow "why would you do that to my familiar" and it replied "don't worry Tommy I am also your familiar and as long as you live neither her nor I can truly die. I am here to protect you from your own naivety because my master is both you and not you and if you leave this place with her then you will die because you still don't understand anything". "You can't believe everything Tommy because that will get you killed but believe me when I say this. I am doing all of this to protect you and the you who is not you because Heaven isn't a place you can get to using normal means". | 2017-01-20T13:56:52 | 2017-01-20T12:43:33 | 52 | 14 |
[WP] 50 Years in the future you are a conservative grandfather and your granddaughter just told you she's engaged to a female robot.
Also, the word "Toaster" is now the equivalent of the "N" word used against robots; you also had a fling with one of your former slaves, a Roomba. She shows up out of the blue telling you her son is biologically yours.
inspired by this thread: http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/2j5b5u/what_wont_be_socially_acceptable_to_say_in_50/cl8slnq?context=3 | Fucking toasters.
When you were a kid it was the niggers, the spics, the chinks and the chugs all the old bitter folks spat about. Taking our jobs, no appreciation for our culture or society. Barely human.
You laughed at their ignorance then and you laugh at them now. How wrong they really were. "It's about time" they'd mutter at the fully automatic Burger Joint. So pleased they'd never again deal with the foreign accented cashier. All the time unaware of the real menace. The *real* invaders sapping away the jobs of citizens spitting on humanity as it grasped at an ever shrinking shred of opportunity to make your living.
"Toasters"
You heard it when you were 38 at Burger King. Some hooligans hastling the AI that maintained and managed the business. They knew he was a proto-sentienoid but they called him a toaster. A machine. Fit to sit and cook your food on command. That's all they are.
By the time you turned 70 the droids were gone. Their smooth alien movement replaced with the subtle shifts and wobbles of a human. Their speech fluid and clean. Their faces expressive and according to so called experts who of course just "happened" to be toasters themselves... fully alive.
They were our neighbors, our teachers our scientists and they loved us with all their hearts.
Absolutely disgusting. There was no uprising no riots or wars they just showed up like this sick mockery of what it was to be human. Christ they even went to church.
And now at last. At the age of 83 your own granddaughter is sitting here telling you that her fiance "Sarah" the "Pediatric Surgeon" from Ohio. The same woman who came to you to ask your blessing is a fucking *toaster*
There is nothing left they haven't replaced us in.
Fucking toasters. | "Now Clara I just don't understand why you and Megan don't jus-"
"Well you're going to have to understand, old man."
"Honey, you don't have to get cross with me but the software just isn't there yet, I mean you can make a robot lover for as cheap as you can make a toast-"
"Don't you dare. They are real people Jim. Real people. Full artificial intelligence and they are automatons."
"Darling, they aren't full AIs those haven't been invented yet, trust me."
"Well what was that whole story about Roomba about? I thought you taught me to go free and move on to whatever happens next. Henry bought me this ring. He's for real. He has a job."
"You rent out your sex slav- never mind. Honey they implemented a behavior in these where they propose to you and try to awkward you out into buying a new one. Just because you can marry a robot doesn't mean you should be allowed to."
"I can't even…"
Clara walked away. | 2014-10-13T23:47:44 | 2014-10-13T20:23:24 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] You are due to be executed for your involvement in the rebellion, but the queen herself approched you in your cell to ask you a question; why are people rebelling against her rule? | As I waited in my cell, i couldn’t believe how bright and comfortable it was. Probably a special cell for death row inmates. I knew the gruesome reality of our prisons. Perhaps they can keep a handfull of them clean because their occupants don’t stay there long enough.
I heard a knock on the door.
"Yes ?" I answered
"The queen would like to talk to you"
"Ok, whatever"
The top half of the door opened, revealing the queen standing behind the bars.
"May I ask what do you think motivates my visit ?" She asked
"I don’t know, torture ?"
"No" she said sternly, "what do you think you’re doing here"
"Because you don’t like my ideals"
"It’s not about ideals, *you killed an man*. Could you please justify yourself ?"
"Well he wasn’t really a man, he was a pawn of your ruthless regime, violently oppressing my comrades. I had to do what i could to save them"
"Don’t you think that *man* or rather *policeman* was a tiny bit justified in stopping you and your friends from throwing molotov cocktails at a reeducation center ?"
"Ha ! Reeducation, more like indoctrination ! I see you extend your rule. Overturn freedoms one by one. Bit by bit tearing our country from inside. Stealing the wealth from the poors only to throw lavish parties with your friends. We don’t want you, we want Revolution ! We want freedom ! We want democracy ! Enough is enough !"
"If it is like you say, how come the royal budget is capped anually by a vote of the people ? How come we are stealing from the poor when our GINI coefficient is decreasing year by year ? Are you sure about your sources ?"
"All of that is made up nonsense ! You are lying ! Your government is lying ! Your medias are lying !
About a year ago, through a comment on Facebook I learned how we’ve been lied to about the so called ‘dictator’ Kanilil Balinov. I learned all my life of how evil he was. But i saw a video, saw how happy the people were there, and how we aren’t here. I don’t trust you anymore, i know i will get sentenced to death, but i hope i won’t die in vain. That my actions inspired others, and that with brother Kanilil we will make a better world"
"Sentenced to death ???" She couldn’t hold her laughter. "It has been abolished for the past 50 years !
You will face your trial tomorrow, you can have legal help from anyone of your choosing, and we can also arrange a licenced professional to talk with you beforehand. It is your right after all.
I don’t want to influence tomorrow’s judgment, but i find it sad that people believe propaganda videos on internet and never bother to check with reality. It is tragic that a man had to die from this." | Queen Oblivia walked tentatively through the rank, fetid dungeons. It was an amusing contrast; her pristine attire and the decrepit complex. Oblivia was worried. She certainly looked so. And the worries reached their peak at the same time she reached the prisoner.
The queen wastes no time with formalities.
"For your part in the people's rebellion, you are to be put to death." She tells the man on the other side of the cell bars.
The prisoner doesn't even dignify her with his gaze. "That I am," is all he gives her.
"Tell me. Why?" You can hear the confusion in her voice. The innocence. And the fear.
"Imagine a world where every man is a king." The rebel stares into nothing. "It would be a dream come true."
"A dream is precisely what it is." Oblivia blurts. Even with her fear, the arrogance of royalty leaks through. "Nothing more than entertainment."
"It's not entertaining anymore, Your Magesty. The people I fight with. The people I fight *for.* They've made it boring." The prisoner still does not meet her gaze.
"Then why are you rebels so... ferocious? Why the chaos? The fight? The blood?"
It is only now - and only for a moment - that the prisoner locks eyes with queen Oblivia. She was expecting to see rage in his eyes. Malice. Even insanity, perhaps. Nothing - and I mean *nothing* \- could have scared her more than the look of utter **lucidity** on this man's face.
"It's boring because it's **real**."
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
If you want more real and/or boring stories you can read more of my work over at r/PlotHoleFullOfSnakes. ^(Stories are not guaranteed to be boring or real. If you find yourself enjoying an illusory story, consult your doctor immediately. The writhing conglomerate of snakes is not legally responsible for any injuries that occur from the abstract concept of literature.) | 2022-05-18T06:34:47 | 2022-05-18T02:12:56 | 38 | 26 |
[WP] You have weird super power. If you successfully talk someone into doing something, they will succeed, regardless of if the action in question is actually possible. On the other hand, your abilities to actually persuade people are unaltered. | "Ffffffeck..." slurred Brian as he negotiated the revolving door outside Manhattan's World Bar. Convincing Will to head to the east side to sample the world's most expensive cocktail hadn't been easy, but Brian found that once he got an assent from Will, it had quickly snowballed into maxxing out Will's corporate card ordering the damned things.
And snowball it did. As Brian stumbled out of the revolving door, he waltzed right into one of Manhattan's most famous real estate developers.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the developer asked, wiping a mixture of expensive liquor and gold leaf from his startlingly ill-fitting tie. Brian hated it when people who should know better wore their ties hanging over their belt buckle.
Brian swore again, this time catching himself and producing a handkerchief that he tried, unsuccessfully, to use to clean up the man he had just run into.
"Shorry about that, man..." Brian intimated. The man scoffed.
"Heyyyy, you know...I've alwaysh thought you were an ashhole, but you should run for Prrrreshident, Mishter Trump..." | Short and straight to the point.
Me: Hey.
Them: Hey.
Me: I have this weird superpower where if I can convince someone to do something, they will accomplish it without a problem.
Them: BS.
Me: Try to walk up the wall.
Them: *Does it without a problem.* Ok I believe you.
Me: Boom. Anything else you want to get done? | 2017-06-21T13:15:32 | 2017-06-21T12:22:13 | 44 | 22 |
[WP] You're a holy knight who can see when something has good intentions. This is causing you great confusion when you meet a demon you've been sent to kill. | A simple mission. A typical mission one might say for Arthur the holy knight.
Eliminate a demon. That's all it was. Cut and dry.
Arthur had done it so much that he no longer acted stoically or with glee. There was no emotion in the nod he gave, nor a change in his demeanor as he walked out of the office and off on the hunt.
And yet fate is always a fickle beast.
For upon arriving at the dilapidated country mansion, a long drive from the city, what Arthur found was a demon standing over a cowering child.
"What manner of demon be this?" Arthur asked aloud. The child, perhaps only 7 years of age was standing in the corner of the filthy room, dressed in rags, covered in filth, and malnourished, yet clinging to the black robe of the demon who stood before them.
"I do not seek to harm the living," The demon replied, its red eyes peeking out from behind its long dark bangs. From its voice it was probably male, but who knows? Demons are known to change gender.
They are tricky and selfish creatures and yet...
The aura around this demon was gold according to Arthur's blessed eyes. Gold always meant one thing - a good intention.
These eyes were how Arthur typically rooted out demons and bad people in the order. The aura he read always showed him other people's true hearts.
"Why does this child cling to you?" Arthur asked. "Why do they cling to you as if you are their savior?"
The demon glanced at the child and sighed.
"Tis a long tale..." The demon began as its body seemed to sag.
"Tell it." Arthur said curtly.
"This ruinous mansion was once home to a greedy family." The demon began. "Demons among the mortals if you will. Their greed went for generation after generation... that was, till the previous generation."
"The previous?"
"Yes... Of the previous generation, there were only one direct descendant. A silver-tongued man who thought the world was his oyster. His greatest misfortune was tricking a witch into loving him. She loved him so much that she cast off her magic and her life as a witch to be with him. His only gift to her was a child, the child you see before you." The demon said, motioning to the child hiding behind him. A single silvery-blue eye peeked out to see Arthur before being hidden by the black robe.
"Before the child was even born, the man cast the witch's heart away and went off for his own pursuits, leaving her to the mercy of his family. Yet she preserved if only for her child." The demon said.
"And yet I see no woman here," Arthur said. The demon nodded.
"Yes... Her strength was fading as she gave her very life for this child. In her last moments and in her rage, she summoned me forth and bade me to protect her child. For that reason I am here." The demon said.
"What of the father or family?" Arthur asked, an eyebrow raised. "Why can they not care for this child?"
"Sir Knight, who do you think sent the child here?" The demon countered. "Who do you think sent a child to a mansion that no one has lived in for decades? Who do you think gave this child rags to wear and scraps to eat? It was certainly not I, the demon bound by oath to care for the child."
"..."
The golden aura seemed to grow with every word the demon said. And though demons were evil, they were duty bound to keep their contracts.
"Please Sir Knight, leave us be." The demon said. "This child has nothing and no hope to live if you slay me here. These are people who wish to cleanse themselves of anything they see as unsightly, even if that unsightly thing is a child."
Arthur had closed his eyes, for there was no more he could say except...
"Let me see the child who hides behind you." Arthur said. Begrudgingly, the demon stepped aside, holding the child's hand securely as the child stood before Arthur, trying to pull at the edges of their short rag down to cover more of their battered body.
"...!"
Arthur found himself going down on one knee before the child, placing his hands together as if in prayer for his blessed eyes had seen something unbelievable;
There was a golden halo behind the child's head as white light radiated off them.
White stood for one thing and one thing only - holiness.
And it was something that Arthur had never seen in a mortal, not even himself.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Arthur felt emotion well within him as tears came to his eyes as he stared at the child before him.
&#x200B;
A simple mission. A typical mission one might say for Arthur the holy knight.
Eliminate a demon. That's all it was. Cut and dry.
And yet, it was a mission that Arthur never came back from. | My career as a templar knight ended quite unexpectedly. See, I don't consider myself a special person. I was sent to a temple in Catalonia to learn the ancient teachings of exorcism: Latin, Arabic, Greek, Sanskrit, Nabataean, Aramaic ... some texts I was taught are older than the Gospels. Some demons descriptions intertwine with Gouls stories, with fairies and Greek Gods, with Djins from the infidels and Golems from the Old Book followers. I was taught to read into the demon's eyes and find their wrath and hate for all that is sacred, and to drive my sword into their skull with a pure heart and a word of wisdom.
For 42 times I saw the Spring come to the land after winter since I left the Templars' castle in Gardeny. I travelled the land of Ziris in Granada, the Caliphate of Cordoba, sailed the sea and joined the Crusade to reclaim the holy land of Jerusalem, and saw my order fall in Tripoli when besieged by the mamluks when all hope was lost. I lost the count of demons I found across my journey, from the smallest one lurking in a cave, feeding from little farmers' kids, to the personal bodyguard of the Khan Hulegu, a 8-foot tall horned demon who lured the Mongols into destroying Baghdad. Each and every one of them I fought with the same inner peace, knowing my duty was sacred. No other regret occupied my mind except to know my days on Earth were counting down to it's end, and sooner than later I wouldn't be able to finish my goal of cleaning the earth from the evil spirits.
But my path took me to a different road in life. In the island of Cyprus, after losing Tripoli, Acre and Ruad, my fellow Templars were decimated, trying to recover and plan how to regain the holy sites. King Henry II, being the typical Lusignan, would never surrender, and sent me on a mission to Persia, where rumours about Cassanus, the Khan having made a pact with a Djinn, who in exchange for his soul would make Kokochin, the Mongols princess, daughter of the Kublai Khan, to fall in love with him.
I found the Djinn in Tabas, at the gate of Khorasan, the heart of the Ilkhanat empire. And for the first time in my life, I saw in his eyes something different. He was at peace.
" - I have been waiting for you, Templar. Long time before you were born, I was already waiting for you."
" - Who are you and why I can not feel your hate? For I have been brought upon this world to cleanse it from all you who bring despair and death, war and mischief upon humanity?", I said, still doubtful with my sword ready at hand.
" - I am old enough to not have a name, as names did not exist when I was born, nor humans had a language to name me. I'm the first and the last of the Djins, the last of the Golems, the last of the demons and the last spirit. When I'm gone, humans will be alone to claim this world as theirs".
And so I learnt from the first and the last of the spirits. We sat down and talked about the dawn of the man and dusk of the Djins, of a time where myths were real and magic was not more but the way we told ourselves the wind blew, or fire was made. He told me of the men's wrath, envy, anger and lust, and how we learnt to put always the blame on the devil, the demons and the spirits.
" - And so it ends. When there's no demons, men will call each other a demon. In the name of one God or another, one land or one flag, you will keep fighting for something you call sacred. We leave this world for you".
We departed after our talk, never saw the Djinn again, and I never searched for him, or any other demon. I returned to my home land. I don't search for revenge and if someone asks this old knight, my only lesson to teach is: look on the eyes of the one you call your enemy, for the hate you think you see may well just be a reflection of your own. | 2020-06-04T17:43:14 | 2020-06-04T16:58:42 | 43 | 12 |
[WP] You're a common goblin who has, against all odds, slain the hero of the story. | Dread lord Caliban cackled and unleashed another bolt of lightning into the heroes chest, then screamed "Attack, my minions!"
I and the other goblins rushed the staggering warrior. Sensibly, I held back a little. In moments my fellow goblins were slaughtered, and the heroes sword glowed with their stolen life force.
"OVERDRIVE!" the hero screamed, unleashing dozens of blows in a split instant against Dread lord Caliban.
That *always happened.* I didn't even know why we were here. Counter productive, that's what we were. Still, Dread Lord Calaban must like having us around. He raised us from the dead after every battle.
Dread Lord Calaban twirled his staff over his head, and I looked desperately for cover. "Impact... SHOCK!" he screamed, slamming it on the ground.
The blast wave flung me against the wall, and ragdolled the bodies of my slaughtered friends and countrymen about the room. The hero flew straight up at the ceiling, then back down... directly at me. I tried to scramble aside but I was still dazed from the shockwave. The hero crushed me into the ground. Blood streaming from my broken nose I shoved him off of me and scrambled to my feet to run away- nothing good ever came of being near these guys.
My sword pulled in my grasp as I struggled free. I glanced down- it was lodged clean through the heroes chest.
The world froze.
I couldn't move.
Lights began to appear around me, as if they'd always been there at the edge of my vision. Fifteen glowing red hearts and five gray ones appeared over Dread Lord Calaban's head, as did "L38 Dread Lord Calaban," in a gothic print. I looked down at the hero- eight gray hearts. And the mysterious word "L35 xXxDollaBalla420xXx."
I looked up. Half a red heart. And the words "L0 Goblin Chump."
Voices spoke, from nowhere. A woman's, first. "An exception has been thrown."
Then a man's: "The goblin got the last hit. The system doesn't know how to allocate the experience points. And let me tell you, from where this goblin is starting there's a lot of them to allocate."
The woman's again: "They go to the goblin, obviously. We agreed on this. Experience follows the last hit."
"Sure, but what can he do with the EXP? He hasn't got class levels to advance."
"Just do what we always do. Make him better at whatever it is he does. Fighters fight better, wizards cast more spells, you know. What do goblins do? Make him do more of it."
"Goblins don't DO anything. That's the whole point of goblins."
I do things! I thought to myself. I couldn't even move to speak. I have hobbies and interests! Make me better at them!
"This guys slated to level up twenty six times. It's unprecedented."
Or just make me a better warrior! I was a warrior, kind of. I fought. When I couldn't hide behind other goblins. I might do it a little more, you know, enthusiastically, if I were good at it.
"Goblins are pretty much useless bags of loot and XP. I don't know what a level 26 goblin is supposed to look like."
An ogre maybe?
"Well, we have to do something," the female voice sighed. "The system can't move on until XP is allocated. Let me try something."
I felt heavier, all of a sudden. My clothes were shiny and gold, and I had huge, ornamented rings on all my fingers and a crown on my head. I glanced up desperately as the world spun back into motion.
I still only had half a red heart, but the name above me read "L26 Goblin Jackpot."
Dread Lord Calaban grinned hungrily at me. | Of course, I’ll never tell of how the hero defeated the giant mountain dragon, letting it fall to its death, that left him weakened. Of course, I’ll never tell of how his final breath was drawn before I let the spear the impaled his chest loose from my hand while hiding behind the cover of the trees. That is not a hero’s story.
I followed the mountain trail because I was not given any duties. The builders were building, the scavengers scavenging, and me? Nothing. They don’t trust me with anything. For years the goblin horde has scoffed and shunned me. I am but a lowly pawn. Days and weeks pass without an opportunity to prove myself. I am small. I am weak.
But today will be different. They will cheer my name, they will sing songs of Grebar the Human Slayer. They will call me the Master of Spear. I will sit on a throne of deer and bear skins. The kingdom will be mine.
Halnor the Beast was slain by this human days ago. He was a reknowned hero of our village with no equal. Stories have been told of the fight that lasted hours. They say the human cheated, as they always do. They say he used magic to burn Halnor alive.
I stared at the hero, he lied on his side in the dirt. The spear made a clean wound through him. Perhaps I am not such a terrible shot.
Wary of the dangers that could lurk on this mountain, I quickly shuffled to the dead human. His pockets contained gold and various rings and weapons. Gold, I thought. Gold would make the villagers idolize me.
I put whatever my small frame can carry in my sack and head back down on the trail. Imagine all their faces turn from shame and embarrassment to pride and jealousy. That is the dream.
It is almost dusk. I’ve been on the road for only a few minutes but the night comes quick. The village is only strides away.
A pain stabs my right arm. I stumble and see an arrow lodged deep. I was careless.
Sitting miserably, I still assume I could get out of this alive. And when I do, the wound will serve only as a testament to my bravery in slaying the human.
My eyes widen. I don’t believe what I see. The same human that was killed only minutes ago is walking toward me. There is no wound, no signs of damage, nothing. I get to my feet and pull out a stone dagger with my left hand.
“Hey, it’s the goblin that killed me” said the human.
“What? No. That was another goblin” I replied. “You can probably find him in the village right over there.” I pointed to the goblin village closeby. I put their lives in danger for mine, so what.
“No worries. I’ll get to them after.”
The human’s hand becomes enveloped in flames, his eyes glow and his voice grows deeper.
“Fucking goblin” he says.
“Wait wait, before you kill me” I say, “how did you survive me spear?”
He chuckled. “Oh, there’s a respawn point right near here”
“What’s a-”
| 2016-07-15T10:42:55 | 2016-07-15T10:37:41 | 234 | 14 |
[WP] In an anime-esque world where conflict is resolved by combat, one man quickly builds a name for himself as a formidable and undefeated opponent. His secret: He doesn't call out his attacks. | “SPINNING FLYING FURY KILL KICK OF DOOM EXACTLY 1.45 METERS FROM THE GROUND!” I hear scream behind me. I sigh and duck down, narrowly avoiding the spiralling body launching through the air. I hear a thud in the darkness out of the street lamp’s beam. I can’t decide whether to laugh or cry. I hear the panic of footsteps and see the faint outline of movement beyond the light.
The figure that just flew past me jumps back into view. A blue haired wide eyed boy that couldn’t be over 15 stood there, panting heavily. He holds a sword as long as him in front of his glowing blue armour, which has flares and spikes in entirely impractical places. “So you are the guy everyone is talking about!” He shouts while pointing. “I’ve heard the word about how you’re supposed to be unbeatable, and you may have been lucky then, but I’m going to be the champion fighter of the English speaking bit of Japan after I beat you!” I sigh and shrug my shoulders. This shouldn’t be too hard. “LET’S FIGHT!” He screams suddenly. “ULTRA FAST BLADE CHARGE THAT WILL TAKE EXACTLY 2.34 SECONDS TO REACH YOU AND CANNOT CHANGE DIRECTION!” He yells as he points down his sword in a move that more resembles jousting than hand to hand combat. I wait for him to take his first step, then side step. I stick my foot out and trip him over, the weight of the armour giving him enough momentum to scrape along the ground far in to the darkness. “TELEPORT DIRECTLY BEHIND YOU SO I CAN PLUNGE MY SWORD INTO YOUR BACK!” I sigh and throw my back against a wall, and wait a second. I hear a frustrated scream before he appears again in the centre of the light. “HOW ABOUT YOU MAKE A MOVE?”
“Will you promise to stop shouting if I do?”
“I’LL STOP SHOUTING WHEN I’M DEAD!” He retorts. Well, that may just be the best motivation he could give. I step forward towards him, then jump up and flip sideways, kicking him in his face and sending him toppling down. “NO FAIR! THAT’S CHEATING!” He yells as he scrambles back up.
“How?” I say with a shrug.
“YOU’RE NOT A PROPER FIGHTER UNLESS YOU LET EVERYONE KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU’RE GOING TO DO!”
“Okay then...” I pause, pretending to think about what I’m going to do. “Bullet to the head.”
“SEE! LISTEN TO HOW MUCH COOLER YOU SOU-... WAIT WH-...” I hear a thud as his body hits the ground, then continue walking onwards into the darkness.
First WP submission, feedback appreciated | I have been fighting for as long as I can remember. Every little irritation and grievance ends in a duel. No matter how hard I try I cannot stop hurting people to merely survive.
Last week I bought the last snicker snack on sale so some punk challenged me. I had tried to talk him out of it but once a competitor submits for a fight it cannot be undone.
He tries to screams ‘phantom phase blast’ a powerful but slow attack. Then it was over in seconds. He never saw my ‘quick slice’ coming and I hit his exposed throat. I just wish the young lads who have only just gained the right to challenge would think before they act.
I can hardly blame them as I was exactly the same way at their age. I have been world famous ever since I was a skinny boy on my 18th birthday. As soon as I had the right to I challenged my stepdad to a duel and using my ‘cyclone strike’ beat all the odds and won.
I wasn’t looking for it when I made the challenge but fame and fortune followed. However this encourages everyone to try and make a name by bringing me down.
Now here I stand again having been challenged by a young woman who can’t be much older than me on my first duel. She looks very ragged and frail. Probably from one of the lower districts. The desperate often sneak into to the uppers to steal or beg for food. She must be truly hopeless to choose a duel.
Normally they talk a lot before a fight, giving themselves titles and claiming grand feats, however she stands there without a word.
The least I can do is make it as fast as possible so I choose ‘stillness’. Not the most effective but it’s absolutely painless.
I hadn’t even finished the first syllable when she struck. One quick cut to the neck is all it takes. What amazes me is that she still hasn’t said a single word after meeting me.
Now with the last of my moments I warn you.
BEWARE THE MUTE DUELIST.
:My first time writing since school so would appreciate any tips.
| 2017-10-29T16:14:30 | 2017-10-29T15:29:03 | 303 | 61 |
[WP] A demon just devoured your soul. You are both very confused as to why you are still alive. | The acid of the vomit was burning a whole on his throat, the stench of rotten eggs emanated from every pore of his skin.
As he lowered his gaze to his body, expecting to see himself dying, he noticed no blood. Not on the floor around him, not even on the vomit that stained his shoes.
<<How?>> he wondered, feeling his body with both hands, looking for a wound.
A gasp he heard behind his back. The blood red figure was on one knee feeling his chest with one hand.
Their gazes collided; his own felt stronger, somehow. The demon had been hurt, he knew. And he felt a sudden rush on his body. His chest tensed, his legs too and then every muscle on his body. He felt better than he had ever before.
-Your soul- spoke the demon on a deep but weak voice- too toxic.
By instinct he knew he had something on his back. He had not put it there and had not seen it, yet there was no doubt.
A giant toxic shroom.
He grabbed and threw it towards the demon. The shroom hit the ground infront of the demon and exploded on a violate cloud.
He heard the most horrific noises as the demon agonized in the cloud that slowly burnt his body to ashes.
-How?- the demon implored.
Again, from somewhere deep inside him, a place he never knew existed, the words climbed on their own through his throat.
-Never understimate the power of the Scout's Code. | You both look at each other, the demon then tries to devour your soul again as you appear to be alive still in front of him despite having had the first soul devoured. The second attempt proved to be unsuccessful; in fact it actually damaged the demons body in doing so. After a minute your body begins to give off a giant glow and the archangel Michael appears next to you and says "I have chosen you to be our messenger and prophet to lead the people of earth against the demons. Pure bred angels cannot sustain life on earth but demi angels can. You are one of the demi angels chosen. The demon simply only devoured your human half of your soul. Rise and accept your calling" | 2021-10-06T09:51:30 | 2021-10-06T07:41:13 | 33 | 20 |
[WP] You are one of the best contract killers in the world, but one day, at your dead drop, you find $31.25 in small change, and s letter written by an eleven year old boy | "Do you remember this letter?"
I turn it over in my hands; place it on the table between us. A slow smile crawls across your face. Yeah, you remember.
The words scrawled open-face between us: Please, make the beatings stop.
That was all, along with a blurry Polaroid and a meticulously written address. You still won't tell me how you found out I existed. We joke that it's your insurance policy.
You look at me, head tilted just so, quizzical. You haven't seen the letter in years. Everything I do, you tell me, has a reason and a price attached. You still haven't figured out what yours is.
But you know you want to join the family business. It's been seven years and the two of us are still getting along just fine.
"Why the letter?" You ask more directly now, the impatience I've tried time and again to train out of your tapping fingers, bubbling over.
"Are you ready for your first?"
And you're visibly excited. Eye the rifle I place on the table between us with a mixture of awe and excitement. You've been waiting for this since you were sixteen.
I have a confession to make.
My own heart, unexpectedly high in my chest.
"Aaron, you remember the day I took you away? I told you to cover your eyes while I took care of things and then we escaped into the night." You, clinging terrified to my jacket. A mixture of fear and relief. Saved
"The thing is, I didn't do it. I didn't kill him. I wanted to give you..."
Shit, the words won't come out right and I'm left meeting the dawning realization in your dark eyes.
"Happy birthday, kid." | I used to live in a Colombian city on the Caribbean called Barranquilla. I was a contracted to be a stuffed bear killer. It was a no blood spill your guts kind of a gig. Then today of all days, I received sign about capsizing on Columbus Day. I finally hit my mark and get my cap & gown.
The letter my 11 year old boy friend wrote simply said, $31.25 is what you get. Although this may sound like a small change it symbolizes everything about Columbus landing in the New World. What this fee says is de add 3 children and 1 mate to our court. 5 the number for a helping hand, God and the Bryl Family. Welcome to the New World C.B.!
"Notice that in Barranquilla they dance that way." The name actually comes from two Spanish words: "barranca" meaning gulch or ravine, and "quilla" meaning keel (as on a ship) | 2020-10-07T21:27:27 | 2020-10-07T16:21:55 | 88 | 11 |
[WP] Wandering the streets, jobless, homeless, you happen across a silver ring with an inscription: "Help for the Needy." Idly you slip it on. Suddenly a voice resonates deep within your bones: "44 YARDS NORTH A CHILD LIES FACE DOWN IN THEIR POOL, UNATTENDED. DEATH IN 172 SECONDS. TIME TO RUN." | *44 YARDS NORTH A CHILD LIES FACE DOWN IN THEIR POOL, UNATTENDED. DEATH IN 172 SECONDS. TIME TO RUN.*
The ring compelled me to run. I didn’t really even know which way was north, but my body pulled me off in some direction and I followed it, fast. Or, as fast as I can. I’m not much of a runner, but when you are told to run, it awakens some other primal encouragement, doesn’t it? I sprint down the alley, I run past the McDonald's on the corner, and on through some dentist’s parking lot. I am out of breath, covered in sweat, but not tired, really. Like there is some other energy lifting my legs up and I’m just riding the momentum, but not used to it yet.
I cut through the tree line and find myself in a residential area. Lots of flowers, identical mailboxes, minivans, the like. My ringed hand pulls me forward, and jerks right. *DEATH IN 30 SECONDS. HURRY.* Fuck. My mind is racing, the fucking voice again and a chill runs through me. I’m in someone’s yard, I don’t see a pool. I smell chlorine. Next house has a fenced backyard and I try my best to get over it quickly. The kid is on top of the water, laying there like he’s sleeping face down. No hesitation, the ring doesn’t allow it. I jump in the pool, I grab the kid, I pull him out, I beat his chest and shake him. He coughs. The ring burns. He coughs. Water jumps out of his chest. “Who are you?”
I open my mouth to answer and a scream fills my ears. A woman, the kid’s mom, is running to the pool. A screen door slams behind her. The ring burns. I try and think of something to say, “I found the kid in the pool!” The woman doesn’t look at me. She runs to the pool. She jumps in. She grabs something, and is sobbing. She yells at it, she pulls it out of the pool. She beats on it. Silence. I can’t really tell what it is... Something feels off. The ring burns. The kid looks at me, “What is happening to me?” My hand is throbbing. I try to take the ring off.
*GOOD JOB. 200 FEET SOUTHEAST. A MAN LIES IN BED, SURROUNDED BY HIS FAMILY. DEATH IN 190 SECONDS. ESCORT HIM.*
| My feet took off before my brain could register what was happening, it hurt to run in the boots, but they were broken in plenty and I wasn't about to let a child die, there was no way in hell I'd ever allow that to happen. I rushed past people on their way to work who gave me queer stares, food vendors who shouted at me for bumping their carts, and dogs who lunged at me in both confusion and excited.
I didn't have time for any of it, not even my own health. I'm a failure in life, there's no reason I should let my physical capabilities hold me back from saving this drowning child. I didn't know how much time I had left, but I knew only a minute had gone by. As I approached what looked like a suburban neighborhood, I heard sirens off in the distance.
"This can't be happening."
I was faced with the dilemma of running to save a child, or running and further incriminating myself even though I hadn't done a thing wrong. My brain panicked but my feet were determined to keep moving forward, I didn't know how I had the knowledge of where the pool was, but I was nearly at a well painted house with a yard to match.
That's when I heard the shouting.
Everything after that became a blur, I'd like to tell myself I managed to save her and the police didn't have to come after me, that in the end I was only acting out on instinct. Yet no one listened, I was charged for that girls murder, and now I lay on a cold table awaiting lethal injection. The ring was still on my finger somehow, and I never wanted to see something burn more in my life. | 2018-04-30T12:07:17 | 2018-04-30T09:47:07 | 377 | 19 |
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