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[WP] Aliens are afraid to invade Earth. Not because of humans but because our solar system is a nest for 8 Guardians/Leviathans. | Slumber.
Then I wake. Slowly. For me I am just me, neither big nor small. For others, I am close to unfathomable.
The small creatures on the little rock nearby do not know me yet, or my brethren. It would be dangerous as well. They are not yet at a point where they would handle it. There would be worship, there would be conflict. I do not wish that upon them. I have seen what such things bring upon them, the heartache and misery that follows. Their emotions are beautiful to me, and I hunger for them. But I must not be selfish, I am a guardian. So goes the mantra and so it will be.
The rays of their ancestor warms my shell, fills me with energy and I can feel my body slowly starting to stir. I look in sadness at my younger brother, now only a faint memory in my mind but his fragments are still orbiting my shell, gently reflecting the sun's light, sometimes casting beautiful shadows on the dozens of satellites that float in the void around me.
Why am I waking?
My brother. The one who stayed guard. I can sense him in the distance, his size even greater than mine where he rests beneath the shell. His surface an unfathomable chaos of powerful storms, his gravity alone enough to crush lesser guardians should they ever steer to close. He is the oldest among us. A true child of our ancestors and their brilliant shine.
There are signals. Lesser beings. Aggressive signals. Probes of war. Their emotions are not beautiful and I am roused by the same anger that alerted my brother. They are still distant, the rays of the ancestor in this place just a small speck to them.
I shift in my shell. Volcanoes erupt to release the excess energies, vast storms form. The groaning of millions of years of shell as it is flailed into the atmosphere. The humans will have quite a show. One of their devices flew near not long ago. It even entered the atmosphere. Curiosity, such a beautiful thing.
"We are the guardians, the sons of the ancestors, their light powers us and their energy flows through us. This place is not for you."
The probes grow curious. Machines. No, not just machines. I can sense fear. They do not know us, have never experienced us. Our scale makes them doubt us, they do not find us possible.
I sense my brethren's anger. I calm them down. That was always my role. There is no room for anger here. We must tread with the delicacy required.
The probes shift their target. They try to understand me. A full spectrum of gentle energy. They do not know I am a son of the light. Energy is my legacy and my language.
Humans would call what I now use machines, a decent enough word I guess though they are not of construction, but of will. I feed them, can feel the hunger rise. That is no problem. The ancestor in this system will yield his rays to me, and in time my needs will be met. They are slowly gaining momentum. The energy is increasing. My powers leap outwards, my scale increasing over and over.
Push.
It's a gentle push. The intruders have not seen it yet. A gentle shift in potential power. For me I’m merely gently touching small flecks of dust in space, for them massive gargantuan rocks are suddenly hurtling towards them. They will not steer clear, I know this because energy is my language.
The humans are still safe. They will ascend, we will see to it. In the meantime we will enjoy the names they have given us. I look once more on the rings surrounding me. I miss my brother.
But the slumber calls.
| The Sol-3 system. One of the last remaining dark systems in the galaxy. 26,000 light years away from the galactic center, with one yellow dwarf star in the middle. Average in all aspects, with one single exception.
It is the sole nesting ground of the Tal’maruks in the galaxy. Fearsome, gigantic beasts of legends and myths. Probably the only creature able to survive the harsh conditions of space. The other species call them by different names. Gods. Monsters. Demons. But to us, they are the Tal’maruks. Harbingers of death.
We call them that for a good reason.
“Sir, dropping out of warp in 10 seconds,” a voice broke my daydream. Navigator Nos. His eyes were fixed on the screen on the bridge, just like the rest of the crew. The room pulsed with their anxiety. For a good reason too.
“Focus on the task, people,” I called out, unable to shake my own nervousness as well.
About three hours ago, we received a distress call from one of our research colonies located in the Faz-4 system. They said they were under some sort of surprise attack. Command tried to establish the details of the attacker, but all the communications personnel could say was Tal’Maruk. Again and again he repeated the name. Transmission was cut off soon after. The whole Faz-4 system went dark.
Our ship was sent to find out what happened.
“Approaching Faz-4 system,” Nos announced. The bright streaking lights disappeared and the crew held their breath. Instead of the blinking lights of the stars, we only saw darkness, punctuated only by four glowing eyes. The colony’s moon laid shattered, drifting through space. Three thousand souls were on that moon.
“Tal’Maruk…” one of the crew whispered as we stared at the mass before us. It was as big as the moon, blocking the lights from the star. Aside from the eyes, it was difficult to tell what the creature looked like. It looked almost spherical, except for what I assumed were tentacles extending from its body.
“Shields up! Red alert!” I yelled and the crew sprung to action. Training kicked in as the crew scrambled. I did not know what good can a puny ship do against a creature of that size. But I do not intend to stay to find out.
“Nos, get us out of here!” I screamed. The ship turned sharply from the creature, the engines screaming into action. Before we could jump, however, the creature emitted a bright flash of light, and disappeared into space, leaving only the debris of Faz-4 colony behind.
Death and destruction. The only sure indicators of the presence of a Tal’Maruk.
“It’s time we take the fight to them,” I whispered under my breath.
------------
*I write at /r/dori_tales* | 2018-02-05T21:33:03 | 2018-02-05T16:30:03 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] The alien invasion is going unbelievably poorly for the technologically advanced aggressors, to the surprise of many. You, a retired military tactician, are trying to explain how this is actually pretty logical all things considered. | “The Human-Varrion War was certainly a vicious one... for the humans. So how do we, the technologically inferior race manage to destroy the aliens in every battle? That’s a rather simple explanation. So does anyone know?” I asked.
“Our diseases are lethal?”
“We’re just tougher?”
“The aliens don’t know about war?”
“Good answers, but the real answer is pretty simple. Technological advancement doesn’t necessarily mean better military. The only actual advancement they have are are superior FTL drives and planetary cannons. These creatures are equal if not weaker than us otherwise.”
“Why?”
“If I had to guess from translated files, these aliens attack the moment FTL is developed. Due to our violent history and simply not putting things together, we never actually figured out FTL until much later on. Based on the data, most of the attacked species don’t even have terraforming tech. They still used mass drivers and didn’t have any real combat ships. So they were of no risk once the nuclear warheads were wiped out.”
“Surely they still had a fleet?”
“Yes, but these fleets were not built with space warfare in mind. Only one side of the ships, the planetary cannon’s side was armored. The rest was exposed and vulnerable, with only debris shields. To them, we were just a set formula, as they’ve done this for millennium. They were so reckless from a lack of resistance, they didn’t even bother to protect the computers on their ships. So they lost the technological advantage, and may have no idea how to deal with us.”
“So us being the violent, stupid race of the galaxy actually helped us?”
“Yeah, who would have thought?” | “But how” the alien ambassador asked “how did you beat us when we had technology so much more advanced than you”
“Simple” I replied “you have honor… we dont”
I take a breath “you believed in giving us a fair chance to fight. You didn’t think anyone would use the brutal tactics we did. You never thought about napalm, mustard gas, biological warfare, or scorched earth tactics. Hell the idea of nukes never even graced the deepest darkest depths of the minds of your cruelest. You never thought a species would make a weapon designed to leave nothing left, designed to so utterly destroy that nothing would ever be able to live there again under threat of a horrifying slow painful death. Simply put you thought you would fight people, not monsters.” | 2022-04-04T12:32:55 | 2022-04-04T12:23:27 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] You were warned that your newest crew member, a "Human", had vastly different biology from all other known races. This mad made very clear when they drank all of the galaxy's strongest known poison, saying that they "needed a drink of water." | [The following entry has been translated into English, a language once commonly spoken on the now decimated planet Earth]
Human.
I'd heard of humans before. The unfortunate fate of their planet, Earth, had been spectacle, a circus that entertained lifeforms throughout our galaxy when they grew bored of watching the Equinoid races.
For many cycles, we were enamored with humans. We watched their leaders send them into violent battles and then abandon them. We watched their once heavily populated cities collapse. We watched them succumb to illnesses. We watched their planet become uninhabitable. And we did nothing.
We weren't meant to interfere, although many beings wanted to. Other beings thought humans deserved such a fate. I know many of my own crew members had considered them a blight. Primitive. Uncivilized. Dangerous. Perhaps they were right. I, however, pitied them.
When the human first appeared at the base, we were all very alarmed. It was a peculiar looking creature with a mop of untidy fur that protruded from its head and reached down to its abdomen. It had only two eyes that did not seem to change in shape or color. At its full height, the top of its head did not even reach the bottom of my thorax.
Some beings hissed and garbled to one another in the presence of the human but otherwise kept their distance. Others jeered and showed their fangs in an attempt to challenge it; I could tell immediately, though, that the human either did not understand or did not care. I wondered what horrors this human had witnessed back on Earth.
Despite being equipped with a universal translator, the human communicated very infrequently for quite some time. It would report promptly to complete its duties before returning to what seemed to be an isolation chamber of some sort.
On the fifth shift following the human's arrival, I was relaxing in the recreation room when the human appeared, looking very small in the looming titanium doorway. It seemed to recognize me and approached.
"Mind if I sit?" it asked. Its speech was slightly warped as its translator kicked in, but I found myself enjoying the frequency of its voice nevertheless.
I grunted, and it sat across from me, placing a tattered looking sack next to it, which it then began to rummage through.
I studied the human carefully. It was so fragile and pale. I had never seen anything like it before, although I had encountered many bipeds. I wanted to ask it how something so small was able to commit such acts of violence. As I was about to do so, however, it pulled a canister of liquid from its sack and removed the lid.
"Thought I'd never get another sip of water again," it said, lifting the canister to its lips.
My insides went cold. Surely the human had been given a faulty translator. Yes, that must have been it...but still...
Liquid hydrogen, I knew of; some rudimentary spacecraft still utilized it as fuel. And liquid oxygen, well...I don't know if there's a single being in the galaxy that doesn't enjoy an occasional pint after a long day. But I had watched another being drink dihydrogen monoxide once...only once. I couldn't save him. I now know it was intentional.
Why would the human do this here? Why now? Why would it come here and perform its duties if it meant to die? Surely it wanted to die on its home planet, as was the tradition. Did humans even have this tradition?
I then realized that the human wasn't dying. In fact, I heard it let out a sound of unmistakable satisfaction - something even the translator couldn't misconstrue.
It saw me staring at it, and it placed the canister down on the table. I couldn't help but flinch.
"It's just water," it said. "Do you want some?" | It was then you realised your mistake. You hadn't prepared, great Lorlawythx how could you not have anticipated?! He cracked open the container, you could already feel your skin itch as the deadly vapors began evaporating from the surface.
You step back, your breath sacks begin to turn purple. "Activate emergency" you don't get to finish your sentence, the vapor has reacted with your vocal tube, it has melted in your throat. You step forward, but you feel your muscles groaning under lack of oxygen. The human looks concerned, but you can no longer hear him. You feel a sharp burning sensation on your back. Your eye stalk swivels, the human has placed it's hand on you. The hand is moist... This burn, you felt it once before in a labratory accident, saltwater. It excretes saltwater. You fail to press the alarm door, and collapse in the hallway.
Your eyestalk turns down, you see other crew, the itching has already started. They look surprised to see you, one moves to help you when the human rounds the corner. You panic, the human is excreting water from it's eyes, it's nose is oozing a strange mucus. In class, you learned this was called "crying". Your mind is calm through the pain, focusing on anything to distract you from your incoming death. The crew member reaches you, it's too late. The humans tears cause pain, they're boring holes into you as your cells try to pull away from the toxin.
Why? You took the class. You should have known. Why did you spend the whole period daydreaming? You could have prevented this. You could have survived. You could have saved them. The toxic substance alarm finally kicks in, and the quarantine doors slam shut. A poor shell-ling is sliced in half. It is a necessary sacrifice. The ventilator kicks in, trying to draw the vapor out of the room. It will fail, as long as the human lives it will fail. Your fellow crewmate has realised the situation. The human is panicking, it doesn't understand. Maybe it does, but how could it with that toxin coursing through it's veins?
Chellomaki, you're certain that's xir name. Chellomaki has halted the vents, despite it's flesh sloughing off in sheets as it's body tries to escape the toxicity. Xei hlkts the ventilator, trying to save the human. It's not her fault, it's your own. You should've taken precautions. You should have known. Your vision goes as your eye stalk separates from your carapace. Residual internal oxygen supply is low, you'll be entering torpor soon, a last ditch survival effort. With luck, the hazmat team will recover you, but you'll never sail the stars again. You'll likely never ambulate again, if you even survive. Chellomaki may get lucky if they are fast, but you will suffer for eternity for your hubris. | 2020-05-18T15:20:16 | 2020-05-18T14:26:34 | 60 | 39 |
[WP] When you’re 28, science discovers a drug that stops all effects of aging, creating immortality. Your government decides to give the drug to all citizens under 26, but you and the rest of the “Lost Generations” are deemed too high-risk. When you’re 85, the side effects are finally discovered. | As I sit here, scrolling through the unending feed, I can't help but wonder if what's going on around us is the same thing. Anti-aging this, prolonged life that. It seems like it's continuous.
When I was a kid, I could never understand why reading and watching the news was so important. Now, as I approach my 86th year, I know why. It's been preparing us for the worst. It's been showing us what our world has become. Almost 60 years ago, that shit was released. I was envious at first but I recovered. I was just starting out at Microcon. Worked my way up pretty quickly. Retired with a nice, fat pension. They announced what happened to my revulsion.
It seems as though A.I. had surpassed all predictions and quietly rolled out an anti-aging serum called Reversol that would stop it all together. Only problem was, you had to be young in order to be young forever. Apparently, 28 was no longer considered young. Bullshit. Either way, I kept earning my paycheck, met my sweetheart and retired happy. That's when the rumors started. Turns out Reversol wasn't as great as they said. Rumors were that it started with migraines. Even if you'd never had one, once a week you'd have a blinding migraine. Coinciding with the serum treatments. After the migraine, motor functions would start being...funny. Finger twitches, leg spasms, random hard ons. All the while, your internals were working to eliminate you. You started feeling...controlled. Like the actions you take aren't exactly yours.
20 years now, I've been hearing about how A.I. was going to rule us and it turns out, it does. With a phrase, our smart homes are controlled by a little speaker that answers our every command. A.I. developed Reversol to take us out. It put together a 60 year plan. If you were over 26, you would pose the least resistance when shit hit the fan. I can barely move now. They were right.
Now, I write this in hopes that it'll reach someone who CAN do something. You see, I've been feeling...funny. But it comes it waves. One day I'm fine, the next is sketchy. Today is a good day. I always thought it would be some debilitating disease that got me. Now, I'm not so sure.
Good luck, whoever you are.... | My back aches. My knee’s gone funny somehow- I now use a cane to go about my day. Four legs to two legs to three legs. The good ol’ riddle. But the people around me, all puppy fat and doe eyes, they’ve gone the other way. Memories like grains of sand. I doubt there’s any thought left in those pretty little heads. Heh.
The streets are crowded today. I pass through a crowd of immortals, laughing at thin air. Their heads are thrown back, and I see a gleam of pearly teeth. I knock a few ankles aside with my cane. A couple of them call me stupid. The others, wide-eyed, gasp and cover their mouths. As I pass, I hear the word scattered among peals of childlike laughter. I don’t look back.
Sometimes, I wonder what would’ve happened if I was two years younger. If I was brave and lionhearted, and stole the serum. If I wouldn’t feel these aches. If my friends were around me, laughing and talking again. My cane bumps into the doorstep of my home. We thump out an unsteady rhythm together, the cane and I. The keys are in my right pocket. They jingle as I fish it out. The key is turned, and we limp in.
‘Honey,’ I call out, waving a wrinkled hand, and a radiant figure turns around from her seat at the dinner table, young and forever beautiful, ‘I’m home!’
 
Critiques welcome!
| 2018-06-04T22:20:25 | 2018-06-04T20:51:56 | 63 | 45 |
[WP] You're a golden retriever who thinks he successfully fooled a pack of wolves into thinking that he's also a wolf. The wolves know. They're just being inclusive so they took him in.
[deleted] | Infiltration - Day 52
It's been a long few months with many close calls, but I can say firmly that they don't suspect a thing now. I run with them, eat their food, and abide by their customs. I've made friends with the Pack Leader and her family, and I'm godmother to one of their pups - I'm unsure how to break the news to them, but I feel that I need to. It's unfair, after all, to keep lying to them like this. I feel terrible, the guilt is eating away at me. I'll definitely come clean after tonight's evening meal. I hope they'll let me stay.
-----
"I have a confession to make," I announce as I stand before the pack. My legs are wobbling and my tail is between my legs, I'm so nervous!
I can see the others look around curiously at each other and I take a fortifying breath, "I'm not a wolf!"
After I blurt it out into the open I feel relieved, though the anxiety is quick to return. The Pack Leader blinks at me in what appears to be.... bemusement? I'm unsure how to feel about this.
"We know," she says, and I gape at her. How could she!? I hid it so well! Upon voicing my shock she chuckles a bit and fondly licks my ear.
After hearing her answer I feel so relieved! They already know!
-----
As I go to sleep tonight, I remember her words to me with contentment:
You're yellow, dear!
--the end-- | Unfortunately, in being so inclusive, they took it too far by never telling me what I truly was: a dog. In doing so, they did more harm than help because I began to really feel like I was a wolf.
Until the day I met another wolf and nearly got mauled to death by it in a fight. I didn't stand a chance.
Fortunately, I recovered with my common sense. I separated from the wolf pack and began to live my life as the simple dog I was.
And sometimes I miss being a wolf, but for the most part, I'm much happier being me, a dog. | 2021-06-15T01:19:58 | 2021-06-14T21:24:49 | 394 | 10 |
[WP] ‘Nothing is more dangerous than a man with nothing left to lose’ humans know this lesson well. The galaxy is about to learn. | We thought we had them. We took some with us for work, we could always use labor and those apes were right there.
They were strong yes, and strong willed but we broke them soon enough. Some were more cooperative than others. We realized we could spread them around the other workers as they seemed to calm everyone.
Then we noticed the music. The whistled, made drums and flutes. And they sang. They sang beautifully. Sometimes they did so while working and many times while relaxing.
When we were visited by the crown prince we invited one who had a particular talent with a flute to play. We did not anticipate him to put a poison dart in his flute. Or for him to kill two guards before succumbing to our lashes.
We also did not anticipate the waitstaff to carry explosives instead of food. I escaped with my life, but only narrowly as the gates to their compounds were smashed open. No matter how many we shot they kept charging.
It wasn’t just the humans. They broke through on the entire planet, every mine, every factory, out of our control.
Then they took our spaceports. They’re coming for us. They found out what we did to earth, and they will not show mercy. | \[POEM\]
They killed the people around that one,
They hurt the person with nothing to lose.
They decided to hurt without remorse,
They paid the price with the person's moves.
They underestimated the person with nothing to lose,
They paid the price with the blood on their lifeless body.
They didn't think long-term of grief,
They realized assassination was the person's new hobby. | 2021-08-05T01:43:06 | 2021-08-04T16:44:24 | 38 | 22 |
[WP] You are the super villain that defeated the super hero and conquered the earth. You walk out onto your balcony to law down the law for your new subjects. You are greeted by a massive crowd and genuine cheers. | Hunger. Eat. Consume. Her. My tendrils curled around Hyper Woman, shadowy things that should not be. My many maws twisted into smiles as I felt her bones cracking under my grip. One bladed tentacle raised, poised to shoot through her heart. I half expected some force on high to stop me, but nothing could save Hyper Woman now. The tendril shot through her, the superhero's eyes widening in abject horror, before going glassy. My grip relented, and the tendril retracted, before my arch nemesis fell. My body re-constituted itself into how it was before, hiding my true form of a "impossible".
My cold, fake eyes scanned the crowd. I could eat them all now. Nobody would come to save them. Each one of those confused looks could blink out before they had time to react to my maw--
Wait, confused?
One human, in her 20s, poked at the corpse of Hyper Woman, not quite cold yet. "She's... dead?" I couldn't read her expression.
"Yes." I replied, not even trying to hide my sparse grasp of english. I straightened my tie and dusted off the fake fleshy suit, slicking back my faux hair.
And suddenly, applause.
It was my turn to be confused. The whole of the crowd exploded into cheers and applauds, helicopters dancing overhead with spotlights trained on me. Suddenly, my eyes focused, and created genuine emotion. Confusion. This hadn't been expected at all.
Then they began melting. Confusion turned to slight familiarity as the buildings, the crowd, and the helicopters dissolved into nether contaminated flesh, all of it culminating into a single mass. Eyes opened on it, staring at me. The sky turned purple and black, as I could see the stars once more. Massive tentacles burst from the ground leading into the monster that was oh-so familiar, as the world was revealed for what it was-- a barren wasteland.
"Well done, son!" The mass spoke, opening several mouths at once. "You took a bit longer than I was expecting, but what matters is that you succeeded."
I looked down at the corpse of Hyper Woman, now revealed for what she was-- a training synthetic. The robot rose, and began to applaud me. In a British accent it spoke, careful and natural. "Good show, sir. "
"... So this was all... what?" I asked. I wasn't angry, in fact I was quite happy. But just so downright confused. "The transfer, the dimensional portal, the combat..."
"A simulation, son." My father said. "You **were** enrolled in the Warrior program, that is true. But your transfer was just to this planet-- your training world. Surprise." He said in a jubilant tongue. The training synthetic folded its arms behind its back.
"... Huh." I merely said, shifting into my true form, a bipedal mass of tentacles, violet flesh, eyes, and maws. "So what next?" All mouths spoke at once.
"Now, the real thing." Father said, most of his mouths grinning wildly. Mine did too. We both laughed.
The real Hyper Woman was off punching muggers and fighting everyday crime, unaware that very hungry jaws were approaching, trained and prepared.
After all, every hero needs a good villain. | I didn't choose to be a super-villian. I chose to be a villian, sure. I had grey morals to begin with. The sudden advancement of power, gave me temptation. The pain and mental torture warped my perspective but the final straw for my step into villianness? Villain hood? Anger. I would love to start at the beginning but there's no time. I just talk to myself like this to keep myself sane, it took a while to get back here, I'd like to keep it. When I'm angry, I get shit done. But its destructive, direct, no subtly, etc. To make me this mad, this maddening madness, requires a lot. It wasn't pain or suffering that caused it, well not directly. It was knowledge.
I control minds. I do other things too, read, warp, control, etc. I raped and killed. I controlled and destroyed. I layed down my version of justice, I started a revolution, secretly took over foreign governments, I lost my very mind and I can honestly, thankfully, say it wasn't my fault. I opened my mind up and found hell. The suffering of the entire world filled my mind and broke me. It takes a lot to break me. Few thousand to be exact. So much pain. Given, I probably would have still done "evil" and broken laws but never like this. Never on this scale.
They did everything they could to stop me but I was too smart, I had the intelligence of a hive mind, the influence, the power and I used it. So they created someone who couldn't be controlled, amped him up and sent him after me like a dog. Had a very interesting set of powers but so do I. They were a gift. I didn't kill the hero, but I did trap them. No mind is safe from mine, not anymore. Trapped, in his own head, forever.
As I walk out, crowds, cheers, massive delights. I suppose, afterall, I have trapped most of the world inside their own heads. A shame. I will free them, not soon, but I shall. Stepping out of darkness and into the light is difficult and sometimes it requires getting bloody. But I will free these slaves I have created. Most of them at least. I'll keep 1 or 2 for my own purposes.
After all, my morals are gray. | 2017-05-23T13:09:20 | 2017-05-23T10:33:06 | 80 | 21 |
[WP] At 30 years old everyone developes a star on their wrist, either red, blue or green each correlating to a power. On your 30th birthday a black star appears. | "30 today, huh?"
"Yep. Pretty excited to see what I get."
"Well, isn't everyone?"
"Yeah. It's gonna be a hell of a ride with it. I'm honestly hoping I get blue. Knowledge is power, or whatever they say."
"Really? I thought you would've picked green."
"Green? Please. That's glorified steroids."
"What about red, then?"
"No. Beauty and youth aren't anything special, I've had enough of that."
"Huh. Well, tell me if you see something."
"Nothing yet. But still, I can't... wait, I see an outline!"
"Oh, what colour is it?! Blue?"
"Nonono, I can only see the outline... Wait! It's filling in!"
"What is it? What is it?"
"No, this can't be right."
"What? What is it?"
"It's not Red, Blue, or Green..."
"What colour is it, then?"
"It's black."
"What? I thought those were fake."
"No, it's right here."
"... Holy shit, you're right."
"What the fuck is happening?"
"I don't know, man. Let's look it up. See if we can learn anything about it."
'Okay... uh... Black... Wrist... Star..."
"Well Shit. Excels at one chosen field."
"That means..."
"Your music."
"Holy shit, you know what this means?"
"..."
"One day, the world will come to know the name Bowie." | "Damn it."
What is this? Why does everyone else always seem to have great luck except me?
Every time. I always get sick first, get hurt more often, and get awful gifts at Christmas. And now, when I'm hoping for a Blue, because I find the manipulation of water to be a fascinating subject, I just end up with a David Bowie album stuck to my wrist. No matter what I try, I absolutely cannot get the stupid thing off of my arm. Sure, I'd like to listen to it, but I can't do that *if it's stuck to my wrist!* | 2017-09-04T19:19:22 | 2017-09-04T17:47:32 | 33 | 13 |
[WP] Everyone wakes up with a number and a RPG-esque classification (e.g., Thief, Warrior, Cleric, etc.) tattooed on their dominant arm | "Hey Tom!"
Thomas turned around. Across the street, he saw Sarah waving at him. For a moment, his heart stopped. He gulped. She was wearing her school uniform, but she could've been wearing a garbage bag for all he cared. It was her. After a moment of stupor, he raised his hand and waved back. Sarah smiled.
Thomas didn't quite understand why Sarah had been paying so much attention to him recently. His friends said he was 'acceptable' to look at, a judgment he considered kind. He understood why--he was a lineman for the JV team, big enough to look intimidating but not huge or fast enough to join the varsity team. He was quiet, more likely to be at church fellowship than a concert on most Fridays. And yet for days now, Sarah had been paying attention to him. It was almost unreal.
"Tooom!" Sarah yelled again. Thomas looked quizzically, then put his hand to his ear to indicate he was listening.
"How fast can you run the 40?"
Thomas thought he had misheard at first--her question had been slightly drowned out by passing cars. Upon realizing what she was asking, he blushed. His 40-yard dash was among the slowest in the school, let alone his team. He was big, not fast.
But Sarah was not interested in Thomas's answer. With a flourish, she took two wide steps right into the busy intersection.
"Come show me!"
In the instant that Sarah stepped out into the street, the world slowed down for Thomas. Time halted as his eyes opened wide. And in that frozen moment, Thomas heard a voice. One that he knew, in his heart of hearts, was the voice of God.
*The girl will be struck by the bus. You can save her.*
Thomas looked at Sarah, the world stuck in place.
"But I can't reach her from here." he thought.
*You can save her. You must only believe.*
Thomas looked at Sarah, her face still lit with a smile, completely oblivious to the bus about to hit her. She did not deserve death. And if it was within his ability to save her, then it would be his duty. His hands balled up into fists. Putting aside his hesitation, he braced himself to move. To sprint. To fly.
He did not remember the next 2 seconds. He did not remember crashing through the sedan in the right lane, nor the van in the middle. He did not feel the force of fast-moving steel against his own flesh and bone. Before he opened his eyes, he had not realized that he had reached the exact spot where Sarah had stood. Nor had he seen the destroyed remains of the truck that had slammed into him.
But Sarah had disappeared from the road. As Thomas came to his senses and a crowd gathered, he looked around frantically. The driver of the bus stumbled out of the wreckage, bleeding profusely.
---
"Impressive." a male voice muttered to Sarah from atop the roof of a nearby building.
"I told you he would be fast." Sarah responded with a smirk. Her form blurred and skipped as she approached the man watching Thomas.
"Paladins truly do move by faith alone, then."
"I don't even think he's realized his power yet."
The man smiled. "Good. He will serve us well." | The smell in the Horry County Melee Classifications Office was halfway between entering a small domestic airplane and the Dentist's. It was in Conway near the DMV, or in other words between nada and jackshit, but still at the end of many clogged-up roads on a Wednesday afternoon. David imagined how the air in his car was right then pounding against the windows trying to escape the slow metamorphasis to oven.
"I've been waiting a whole hour now," said the rogue in the chair next to David. Across from them a little warrior girl was staring at them. She was sitting on her dad's meaty leg. The dad was staring at the clock through the potted plant.
"It's some bullshit."
"I hear you, man."
The other rogue was older than David. He wore cargo shirts and a weathered Jimmy Buffet hat.
"You know what it is, too. They're trying to keep a watch on all us. Say all we do is steal."
"Of course."
"Then give us the crap jobs. Barely feeds one."
"I know it."
The secretary called David's name. There was a clipboard on the counter already. The older man sighed loudly and walked off towards the restroom. There were several packets under the clipboard all separated by different staples.
"You brought your ID and birth certificate with you?"
"I have my license."
"We need both ID and birth certificate, sir."
"What if I gave my Social Security?"
David looked back and met eyes with the little girl. She smiled. The father was now looking at something next to the clock. One fluorescent bulb being out didn't mean the room got that much darker.
"Take these forms home, fill them out, and come back tomorrow with the certificate. I'm sorry that I can't do much more for you."
There were two piles of different clipboards. David's was the kind where the pen was attached by a plastic spiral cord like a telephone receiver has.
"Goddamn pickpocket!" said the warrior.
David looked back again. The warrior was standing up with his fist at the top of an uppercut. The girl was sitting on the floor underneath where the older rogue had been crushed straight into a fluorescent light and then some. His cap was on the floor. The broken glass must have cut somewhere because blood started dripping downwards over his clothes and his bare calves and the floor. The little girl stood up, leaned back, and with all the air in her lungs spat on the rogue's shoes.
| 2015-07-13T19:19:43 | 2015-07-13T16:33:16 | 83 | 17 |
[WP] It was then Harry Potter realized the last 7 years in Hogwarts was actually a mental institute. The man he thought to be Dumbledore was just an elderly caretaker. Harry, looking at an old broken twig he once believed was a wand, started to remember what really happened during those years. | "This... is the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry asks, wide eyed as he stepped inside the gloomy room. A chair lay in the center of the room, next to a table full of strange machinery. The wires leading out of the machines were tied together to resemble a thick strand of rope. The doctor points the thick strand out to Harry. "This is what you thought was the Basilisk."
"These beautiful black orbs in front of the chair," the doctor continues, "Are the newest in electroconvulsive therapy. Without causing the physical trauma of direct electrical impulses, it only triggers certain neurons in the brain that we can specifically target. They caused you to constantly lose all physical mobility because of which you refused to look at them. In your mind these were the eyes of the Basilisk."
Harry staggered backward, his head spinning with the sheer magnitude of the reality shaking his foundation. "What about my parents? Are they alive then?"
"Harry..." the doctor says, sympathetically. "I know all this is difficult to take in, but you're a wonderful human being. Your parents never understood what was wrong with you. They blamed you for being born the way you were, what they described as "lacking any semblance of wit or intelligence", and left you in our care. When they tried explaining to you that they were leaving for good, it just wouldn't get through to you. After they deserted you here, you conjured up an intricate story where they died protecting you. Because that's how your mind works. It can't handle any more trauma. It is stretched to its absolute limits."
Harry almost fell to his knees. He fought back the tears and the feeling of defeat creeping into his heart. His parents were never around anyway. There was a more important question in his mind. But could he conjure enough strength to ask?
"Ron... Hermione.." Harry somehow managed to sputter out.
"Harry, your parents left you because they blamed you for not being normal, for lacking simple intelligence. A part of you understood their betrayal, but the rest of you refused to acknowledge that reality. In your world, your two best friends are those that embody those very qualities. Loyalty and intelligence. Ron and Hermione."
Harry was weeping now, like a child that had tasted grief for the very first time. Everything was a lie. All of it. Everyone was a figment of his crippled imagination; how was he supposed to live in the real world if the one he spent most of his life in never existed? In the midst of all the crying, Harry felt the doctor's hand on his shoulder.
"You're wondering what is true and what isn't, I know. It is difficult to be diseased, and somehow, harder when you're cured. Suddenly the world is nothing like you have known it. But Harry, isn't recovery a form of magic? For most of your life, your parents locked you in a closet under the stairs, refusing to tell the world about you because they were embarrassed of your predicament. For seven years, you held a broken twig in your hand, ran into walls over and over convinced that there was something magical on the other side. You mumbled constantly about fulfilling some prophecy and about beating some Dark Lord and surviving to tell the tale. And here you are. Your world is still full of magic. Like we heard you say out loud one night- you are a wizard, Harry. And despite all the unfortunate losses, setbacks and misforunes you have endured, you made it. To us, those who have constantly witnessed broken beings wither away, of seeing sanity die a slow death between these walls, you will always be The Boy Who Lived."
r/whiteshadowthebook
Edit: Thank you for the Platinum, Gold and Silver, kind strangers :) Also a big hug to everyone else for leaving such beautiful comments and for all the love, thank you so much again! | Harry's eyes got lost in the patterns of the twig. It was brown, the size of three forefingers, and full of errant swirls and lines. He reached for it absentmindedly, for his thoughts were hidden behind a thick, wavering fog.
To his surprise, it fitted perfectly on the curvature of his palm. It was almost as if it had been made just for him.
"Harry," a frail, papery voice said from behind, "did you take your medicine?"
Harry turned glacially, keeping the twig in his hands. There stood an old man clad in a white uniform. He had a long, cloud-colored beard, and eyes as gentle as the caress of a feather.
"Dum--Dumbledore?" Harry asked, and when his own words reached his ears, winter wrapped his heart, for the fog in his mind cleared, and the memories of Hogwarts, of Ron and Hermione and Hagrid and Voldemort, all flooded his mind in the space of a breath. "Whe--where am I?"
The old man's brows wrenched downward, and his eyes strayed to the table in Harry's diminutive room. "Harry, did you take your medicine today? I need you to tell me that. I can help you if you tell me."
The fear started to crawl up Harry's spine, and along came the slow realization of everything that was happening. His leg fidgeted, his nails wandered toward his mouth, and, in his chair, he rocked back and forth. All the while, tears pressed against the back of his face as they rose, threatening to slink past the barrier of his eyes, and gush, like cascades, down his cheeks.
"I--I--what's happening?" he asked, and shard by shard, memory by memory, his world began to shatter; and these weren't those wonderful memories full of magic, joy, and beautiful landscapes. These memories were different; they were old, dull, blank, and terrifying.
He dwelled on them awhile, and in those hazy depths, he found his uncles and his cousin immobile on the ground, and a knife in his hand. Outside the rain poured as though the sky itself were falling, and outside he went, and there the stains tarnishing the knife turned into a crimson creek as they merged with the raindrops.
And then, it was all a white wall.
His heart ached. The tears escaped. Everything shattered.
The old man moved to his table, and there, scattered on the ground he found the shards of a broken flask. He looked beneath the bed, and reached for something.
At last, he cleaned Harry's cheeks, and said, "Open your mouth. This will make the tears go away."
He did as told, and the old man placed a pill on his tongue.
And just like that, all was well again.
---------------------------
r/NoahElowyn | 2019-04-09T08:59:59 | 2019-04-09T08:53:06 | 4,299 | 394 |
[WP] "You can’t truly call yourself “peaceful” unless you are capable of great violence. If you’re not capable of violence, you’re not peaceful, you’re harmless. A very important distinction. " Our first contacts were harmless, those met later couldn't tell the difference. | "Lieutenant, report."
"Sir. I believe my recon mission was successful. I have gauged the Trilthe's forces to the best of my ability. Their army is for show. Ceremonial. They have no hidden troops, they don't have minutemen civilians based on the ruckus a team made on the ground and the lackluster response. Their weaponry is subpar. They have energy sources to rival our own nuclear reactors, but no records of them ever using this technology in a means of war. They would be effective area of effect targets for us to lightly explode, at the worst. Possibly were given to them by the oh so charitable Vatriaen, based on the lack of technological advancement everywhere else.
"Their culture is of amnity. Cooperation. Talking with a civilian confirmed what I got from their archives, that they are terrified of conflict. They seem to have become the dominate species solely due to a biological evolution saving them from their last mass extinction event. They have apparent non-sentient creatures on their planet called umes, creatures no more harmful than a housecat, but feared as if they were venomous, flying bears. If they ever had to fight eachother using wit or endurance or weaponry, the housecats would have won.
"If we are to engage them, simply fluffing our tails and barring our teeth, so to speak, will send them running.
"The Trilthe are not a threat."
"But, their message said they are peaceful?"
"I know. The translator must have had a hiccup." | I listened with awed eyes and ears to the hologram in the class room. Once, it would have been powered by électricité...or so they said. Now, We hurridly worked to shine light from à broken mirror on the plate that housed it. This was importance though. It was historique. Ours though we were far too young to have lived it. The Wise words of the hologrammes showed us each à path on our name day. A portion of the speech that résonateur with us like a well played harp. For me, i learned how to be peaceful. | 2021-10-04T22:00:11 | 2021-10-04T20:01:18 | 283 | 20 |
[WP] You are born with the ability to stop time, but one day you see something else is moving when you have already stopped time. | As he was running away, Joseph suddenly spotted his grandson in the street.
"Don't come any closer", he screamed
"Oh perfect timing, but still not in my range" I thought to myself
"Stay back, the secret to his power is to Stop Ti....."
"ZA WARUDO" I screamed
Time has stopped, what a convenient power this was, only downside is that the time limit is only 5 seconds due to the fact that I needed more time to adjust to my new body. I made my way to were Joseph was standing ready to strike a fatal blow, suddenly I stopped my hand
"Wow Joseph you're probably using Hamon, that troublesome power that was my downfall a 100 years ago, but it is now powerless before The World"
I reached out to my back pocket taking out a knife
"MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA" I screamed while throwing the knife to his throat
"Grandson of Jonathan, Joseph, you've met your end"
Time began to flow again, Joseph let out a scream then collapsed on the group.
"Now Jotaro, you're next!"
"You bastard! DIO"
"Oh you've decided to face the mighty Dio?"
"Problem is I can't beat the shit out of you unless I'm close"
"Then come as close as you'd like"
"ORA" he screamed, but I quickly countered his pathetic attempt to kick me
"Too slow! The World is the ultimate Stand. Even ignoring it's ability to stop time, its speed and power far exceed that of your Star platinum"
"So it's the same type as star platinum, incredible speed and power but short range"
"I wanted to test my **Stand** against yours, however it would seem that it is unnecessary."
"Test? You barely touched my leg, that didn't hurt. If anything you've hurt my wallet by ruining my pants."
Here it comes, that infuriating self confidence so characteristic of the Joestar family.
"Why must you Joestar be so stubborn about admitting defeat? I suppose I will rise to your pathetic provocation and test you a bit more" I said while manifesting my stand
He took out his Star Platinum and our Stands started fighting.
"Shall we see who possesses a faster attack rush?" I said while brimming with confidence.
"MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA"
"ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA"
And our **Stands** started clashing
[To be Continued](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nfzq8LjXsGU)
Thanks for reading, I noticed there was a prompt about stopping time and no Dio post so I had to do it. Hope you enjoyed, if you want more tell me and I'll write the continuation. But it will have to wait for 15hours, I have an exam early tomorrow | "Do you really think you could get away with not doing your homework for the 75th time this year?" Mr. Snooze said. That bastard even counted the number of times that I was too busy messing around with time to actually focus on my studies.
To the bitterness of Mr. Snooze's scolding followed the sweet silence of time stopping. I stood up, and made my way begind him. I turned him around so that he wasn't facing his desk anymore. I grabbed the key to the office on said desk, went out, and locked him inside. that'll show him.
I was a beautiful day of June, around 10 in the morning. I put my hoodie in my school bag, and decided some kind of nap would not hurt me. I got to the park and laid down in the fresh grass. I fell in Morpheus arms and was woken by a warm feeling in my own arms. A beautiful cat had somehow managed to get by and sleep with me. Strangely enough, its eyes were purple, just like mine. I heard a voice coming from behind my back:
"Needle! here you are! I told you to stop going to sleep with people already!"
I jumped on my feet. Before me a girl around my age was standing up, and looking at me with her purple eyes.
"There you are! I was looking for you."
I calmly resumed the time again. Silence left place to the songs of birds and the sound of a dog barking somwhere else in the park.
The cat was rubbing against my legs, purring.
"What's your name?" she asked. I signed it with my hands, knowing that she probably did not understand sign language.
"I see. That's gonna be a problem. Would you write it down for me?"
I grabbed a note book and wrote it. She read it, and said: "My name's emily, nice to meet you, I guess?" I nodded.
"I was looking for you." She moved forward and promptly kissed me. Time stopped again. | 2016-06-19T08:04:39 | 2016-06-19T03:54:21 | 34 | 15 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | She sat in the chair, shivering against the cold dense plastic and metal monstrosity. Eyes flickered back and forth, the chill in the room not the only reason for her to shake and tremble. Eyes gazed warily, fearfully at the metal tower beside her, unknown attachments hanging off with unknown purposes.
A man in white enters, looking at her as if she were nothing but a problem to fix, a subject to enhance. He asks her questions and she replies haltingly, unsure, confused. Continuing to talk the man holds a dark instrument in front of her eyes, waiting for answers while conducting unknown practices. The instrument emits light, bright and piercing and shines them directly into her eyes. She squirms at the intrusion, trying to look away before reprimanded.
She whimpers as he moves a heavy apparatus to her, instructing her to compliance. The questions continue and her panic grows. Her vision swims and she stammers out responses. The man doesn't seem pleased and repeats his questions.
Finally it ends yet the entire ordeal does not. Another machine, heavier on a base is slid over. Her neck cranes and the metal and plastic feel cold. More lights, blue and green as well as plain. All bright. All searing. Just when she thinks it will never end the machine is moved. The man speaks and she flees.
I sigh and rub my eyes. *Why do people treat an eye exam like torture? You think I'm pulling their teeth instead of helping them see.* | He had escaped Fate,
The feckless rake,
And sat by the merry river.
Scarlet threads of blood quivered,
Tapered from his fingers into watery absolution.
....................................
The knife gleamed red,
Seemed to grin instead,
A leering, halt accusation
That he pitched beyond all condemnation.
But "Murderer, Murderer" muttered the wind.
....................................
"I've escaped long past recall," he laughed.
....................................
But the sunlight blazed like a spotlight's gaze,
Then everything grew dim, misted into haze.
He ran a finger inside his collar, too tight,
A boa's constriction that suffocated light.
And the hangman's eyes, with a doleful stare, winked out.
| 2017-08-30T06:31:44 | 2017-08-30T06:14:11 | 43 | 14 |
[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] | “Don’t.”
My back was turned, but I knew what that blasted hero was doing. He was trying to cut his bindings. They were simple rope, Sure, but I preferred to have them tied up easily so I can carry their dead bodies away without a hassle.
“You’ll never get away with this! Even at the cost of my life, my—“
“Legacy will live on!”
I interrupted. I’ve heard this speech a thousand times.
“You believe that you have inspired other heroes simply because you wanted to play the Martyr. I’m afraid that’s not how it works.”
His life didn’t mean much to me, but I had a few questions. I needed to know the answers. I had all the time I needed, and perhaps I’d give him a chance to see what it’s like to be me.
“No...”
“Yes! You believe that just because I killed you, that doesn’t mean that the other heroes won’t stop me eventually. I have news.”
I pulled him by his tight, fabric suit.
“You’ll never stop me.”
He gasped as he was slightly strangled by my grip. I liked this. Now for the questions. Perhaps I’d disembody him while I spoke. Maybe I’ll give him to the count of three if I’m feeling generous.
“First. What do the heroes want with me?”
“We want you behind bars.”
“Figures.”
I tapped my fingers on my desk. No hero had ever seen me up close, or those who did never lived to tell the tale. Photographers never caught glimpses of me. No one knew what I looked like. It must’ve been a surprise to the disgustingly giddy hero when the light came on, revealing my appearance. Now he knew that he had no chance of making it out alive.
“Your face—“
“I know.”
I knew. I knew that half of it was seemingly blasted apart.
“You and your wretched comrades did this to me. I’m not too mad about it. However, I don’t let disrespect slide.”
I glared.
“You Villain—“
That was my cue. I’ve done this so many times. Each and every time, I waited for those two words...
“I’m not a villain.”
“But—!”
“No. You’re a hero? You simply fight for what you believe in. Right now? I am fighting for what I believe in.”
I watched realization register onto his face. His handsome face, just before it was blown to bits.
I’m no Villain. I’m simply a regular person with a controversial opinion on how this world should be run.
And I had no intention to fail. | Ultra stared at me with wide eyes, waiting for me to make the first move and I did.
Boooooom! My arm launched back from shock.
A single shot to the head was all it took to bring low the great and powerful Ultra. Of course it wasn't a normal gun, it was one made by me, Nemesis. I used his only weakness, A space alloy called mimicry metal, to craft a gun. A hand cannon. A motherfucking elephant gun. The recoil was insane but in return, nothing remained of the back of his head.
Unfortunately, I could only make one set of six bullets.
I glanced around at the crowd who looked on in horror, "What? No applause?"
Blood and brain covered the people directly behind him. The building had a hole where the bullet had hit and finally stopped.
People began to scream as shock wore off.
"You monster!" Someone yelled out. He tried to run but I fired into him with a normal pistol and down he went. He wasn't super enough.
The body of Ultra fell into a pile of his own blood. I toed him with my boot. "Hmm. Shame he didn't last longer."
I could hear the sound of a helicopter approaching, and I knew exactly what that meant. More heroes. More people to crush beneath my boots.
I leapt from the stage and towards the buildings where Ultra's brains were scattered. More specifically towards the alley that held the sewer grate which I needed for a quick escape.
The heroes yelled out, "Halt in the name of Justice!"
But it was too late, I was in the sewer and in my domain. I watched from a distance, hidden by my dark clothes, as they entered. It would spell their doom.
End
<might make continuation later> | 2019-08-06T19:15:08 | 2019-08-06T17:34:25 | 151 | 83 |
[WP] Imagine a world where dating and job hunting are switched. Dating now involves sending emails and resumes, while people seeking employment frequent the hottest clubs. | So much for that.
I’d been in a steady job for the past year. It wasn’t the best job, but it kept me happy enough - we explored the country together, my friends became the office’s friends, and I was starting to imagine spinoffs. Maybe I could co-lead a project.
Solid, right?
Well, turns out, my idea of “going steady” and their idea of “going steady” weren’t the same.
They’d hired another frontend developer. Without telling me.
I felt dirty.
It was a side thing at first, just a little excitement early in the week. Then it became something more. “It wasn’t just the productivity”, they said, “it was the way they made me feel when they walked in the room.”.
Fuck that.
If they could find someone else, so could I.
I dropped them on principle. If they were straight up about wanting to hire other people, that’s one thing. This was another.
So, I did what anyone would do on the job rebound.
I fired up Tinder. Redid my profile.
Nice mix of pictures, one working on the beach, show I’m productive, but also look great with my shirt off.
Professional, but having a drink, colleagues laughing at a joke.
Adorable dog picture.
The works.
Classic.
Bio - little bit of my work experience, quick anecdote about saving a project in need, height, emoji story to close it out.
Now - autoliker.
I don’t need something serious right away - just to get my feed under me, get the rebound out of the way.
1,500 likes in an hour.
50 matches.
Maybe the dog photo’s a little try hard? Whatever. A match is a match.
I messaged all of them - something pithy, a little forward. Only one messaged back. It wasn’t the best looking job, but it’ll do. We set up drinks for the next night, somewhere a block from my apartment.
If there’s one thing I remember about job hunting, it’s all about logistics.
About 30 minutes before the interview, I pinged the would-be manager to let me know when they’re closing in. Looking forward to meeting. Couple tropical drink emojis.
Few minutes later, they hit me back a rocketship-thumbsup-beerclinking.
This might actually go pretty well!
Started walking over when they said they’re at the subway stop nearby, I showed up a couple minutes after them. My would be manager was standing at the entryway, looking at their phone.
And, you know what? They actually didn’t look half bad in person! Cute.
Brunette. About 5’6”. Cool tatooo on their arm, bold lipstick, long hair. A bit flat, but more than made up for it with a great smile.
Gave them a hug hello, they left their hand on my arm just a beat too long. Commented on my cologne.
Yeah, this *really* might go pretty well!
As we walked up to the bar, I mentioned how this is one my favorite neighborhood spots, love having a jazz place this close by.
Don’t want to to be totally out of nowhere if I ask them back to my place, all goes well.
We sit at the bar. Bartender brings me my usual. They order an old fashioned.
Oh, it’s on.
We chat about the usual - how our weeks were, how long they’ve been in town for.
One time, while they’re telling a story, they get a little touchy when telling the highlight. Our hands touch for a beat.
We get another drink.
Talk about the job a little bit - what we’re both looking for, how long it might be for.
They mention having been burned by previous engineers. I tell them I understand. My last hiring manager left me, too.
We go back to my place for ‘one last drink’. Soundcloud’s playing generically cool tropical house. After a few sips of their drink, they ask to see my work sample.
They’re impressed.
They gives me a full assignment.
I break it out, lasting longer than normal.
It’s our first date, so I’m working in a virtual machine. It takes me a little longer, we have to switch programs a few times, but they approve the work three times - eventually, I complete the last subtask.
Email notifications everywhere. It’s a glorious mess.
The next morning, wrapped in sheets, they ask if I can start tomorrow.
This is moving a little fast.
I don’t want them to get the wrong idea.
Don’t want this feeling like a full time job right out of the gate.
“I’m kind of slammed this next week.”, I say. “Maybe week after next? I’ve had an an awesome time, we should totally work again sometime.”
| "Thanks, I'll be in touch. Goodbye!"
The office door slammed on the male suitor's face. It had been her 39th rejection in a row. Reina was commonly known in the workplace as the "Ice Queen". She enjoyed conducting her dating interviews at the office where she worked, and made a spectacular event of each one. She would lead them in with a blank expression on her face and quiz them on their resume. Sometimes, she would test them - give them small jobs that she would expect her boyfriend to do. These things usually involved doing her mundane dayjob duties for her.
No matter what, though, the men would always leave disappointed. Who knows how long some of these guys have been waiting for a call back. It's always "I'll be in touch!" or "I will be conducting followup interviews in the near future". As far as I can recall, she has never once met with the same person twice for a "date".
Then one fateful Tuesday, everything changed.
Reina had just dismissed her latest suitor - he misspelled "amorous" on his resume. Rookie mistake. I was sitting the desk across from her, waiting for the day to end. At the very least, her shenanigans helped to dull my own perception of time. The day was nearly done already, and she had one more gentleman to meet with before quitting time. And that's when *he* showed up.
He did not knock on the door. He simply entered the workspace, hooting and hollering, making a grand entrance. A young black male, approximately mid twenties. Rocawear t-shirt, baggy slate jeans, neon Nike sneakers, wearing a gold chain and stunner shades. His hair was a wild mess of dredlocks, and he proudly sported a permanent grin on his face. I immediately thought that he would be rejected before the interview even began, but life is apparently full of surprises.
The man introduced himself - to everyone - as Deshawn. He passed out copies of his mixtape to everyone in the general vicinity, which he described as "straight fire". Finally, when Reina went to introduce herself, gesturing for a handshake, she was caught off-guard with a thug-hug and a vigorous pat on the back. Just when I thought it couldn't possibly get any worse, he handed her his resume - but wait - not a traditional resume. It was far too small. A business card?
Reina took the slip of paper from the man and stared at it intensely. I could see a fire burning in her eyes, hot enough to bore though the paper and into the man's very soul itself. For a solid minute she looked at it. Studied it. Gazed upon the words written. For once in her life, she looked passed the superficial things, like what kind of typeset he was using, or how he indented his paragraphs, or what kind of professional references he bothered to write down.
Reina looked up from the paper and stared into the eyes of the man standing before her, still smiling like an idiot. I half expected her to punch him in the face, but what happened next was unexpected, to say the least. She dropped the card on the floor and began to furiously, passionately kiss him.
As the apparent new couple devoured eachothers faces, the rest of the office could only stand there and watch. How could someone like that possibly have what it takes to melt the Ice Queen? Maybe his mixtape *was* fire...
Deshawn scooped Reina up into his arms and carried her out to his low-rider, complimenting her on how beautiful she was the entire way out.
Curiosity was like a bad itch. The only relief was to know what was on that card. I hurriedly moved to pick it up off the floor, anxious to know the words that moved the unmovable object. The backside was blank, I flipped it and read it aloud.
"Ay bby, u wan sum fuk"
I put the poorly hand-written expression of love back on the floor and went home early that day.
edit: spelling correction | 2015-06-18T19:01:23 | 2015-06-18T14:34:48 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] FTL travel is very expensive, so humanity creates a web of hyperlanes between systems, that speed up time inside them, making travel cheaper. You enter a malfunctioning hyperlane. When you leave it, you find a galaxy with no humans, full of alien races, that see your kind as ancient precursors. | *Emergence*
'Location unknown. Location unknown. Location unknown,' the traversal shuttle's intercom announced again and again in its warm, clipped tones as a warning light repeatedly bathed the cabin in crimson light.
Joi breathed out, closing her eyes and clenching her fists as she endured the last waves of traversal shock. The mindless iteration of evolution had never anticipated humanity would leave its cradle, let alone transmit itself nigh-instantaneously across the cosmos. Traversal, then, the means with which homo sapiens had made a laughing stock of the vastness of the void, was something the biological brain was singularly discomforted by.
Black, abyssal depths, condensed nebulae clouds and frozen suns hanging in a paralyzed cosmos were the sights available to anyone stupid enough to look out of a viewport mid-traversal. The visions of a creationist God, democratised all the way down to family tourism and long haul work commutes.
Joi opened her eyes for a brief moment, long enough to experience pure agony as the strobing light bloomed directly in front of her face. The security consultant snarled, punching out blindly with the armoured knuckles of her voidskin and being rewarded with the sharp *crack* of plastic.
'Passenger consciousness detected,' the capsule's voice intoned, 'please remain calm. Location is unknown. Manual input requested.' There was a faint click as a screen dropped into her vision, emerging seamlessly from the featureless black of the capsule's interior.
'I suppose I don't get a discount for teaching the capsule what a planet looks like?' Joi asked sarcastically, idly waving at the screen to activate it. Most corporate capsules were the same. Dumb. Drop out of traversal sideways and then ask the passenger what the destination should look like levels of dumb.
The screen blinked on, briefly displayed the skull and crossed missiles of some two bit shipping firm, then clicked into an endless cascade of flashing red astronomic errors. Dozens, then hundreds, then thousands. All pointing to one lunatic impossibility, laid out in stark characters before Joi's eyes.
The stars had moved.
Joi swallowed a searing, panicked breath and pushed her restraint-seat away from the glaring screen. The capsule's primary viewport was a small circle of hardened armourglass to her left, flickering with intermittent flashes of light from the void outside.
Her voidskin detected the adrenaline rush as she stared at the planet below and reacted automatically, sprouting an armoured double-layer of interlocking plates from its matte black surface. Joi scarcely noticed. Her face was locked in a crazed rictus, a slight twitch to her eyes, all blood fled to leave her utterly pale.
A thousand thousand unknown ships, bearing symbols in no human language, hanging in an inhuman sky.
(Fun little exercise, but I'm at work so I'll stop.)
| First, they learned to fly. Then they took to the stars. They explored distant worlds from all over the dotted sky. In an endless void of darkness, they took the light. In their wake, they left seeds as relics for the eternal quest for meaning. And from those seeds, they brought life to the universe.
_______________________________
He strapped into the pod for another routine flight. With the expenses involved in getting planetside, it was rare that a lane was actually open to accommodate those who weren't glactocrats. That being said, the eggheads from up high came up with the ingenious idea of 'hyperlanes'. By bending space-time on itself (or something, he was thirty-five, and space-time physics had always eluded him), you could skip galaxies, thereby reducing the amount of distance you would have to travel even with FTL travel.
The catch was you sped up time while you were traveling. You'd leave for dinner at 5pm. Get there at 5pm, or what you would think was 5pm, and watch your loved ones finishing dessert and watching the end of that space opera you liked.
Still, it was the price you paid to get across fast. And if it was good enough for the galactic elite, it would be good enough for him.
The final flight checks completed, there was nothing to do but relax. And while he relaxed, and eventually dozed off, he failed to realize the flash of red from his console or the multiple fail-safes that failed to keep him safe.
And the pod launched into the night.
_______________________________
Those adventurers of the endless night grew civilization to untold lengths. Before long. the planets teemed with life of all kinds. But as their abilities grew, so did their ambitions. And when their ambitions grew, the galaxies were too small to contain it. They wanted something bigger.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Author's note:
It's getting late. If you're interested in reading more of what I'm putting down, let me know and I'll continue! | 2018-01-22T07:30:13 | 2018-01-22T07:04:18 | 320 | 59 |
[WP] At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell. | The sun was filtering through the open window, August dawn filling the room with the scent of summer. Eve stirred in her sleep, clutching the pillow closer to her chest.
'Angel,' Jack whispered, brushing away one stray lock from her forehead, 'you're dreaming.' He said, watching the first rays of light painting her hair in gold. Two more weeks and she'll become his wife.
Eve stilled, her blue eyes opening slowly.
Jack smiled at her, leaning in.
'Keep that muzzle away from me,' Eve suddenly growled, jumping out of bed.
Jack frowned, watching her rummage through the closed like a tornado.
'David?' Jack quickly sat up, looking at his fiancée tossing all of his clothes on the floor.
'Where's the blue cotton shirt you had?' Eve asked, her soft voice now changed with a strong Boston accent.
'Stop throwing my stuff on the floor!' Jack snapped.
He had never raised his voice at Eve but since every week there was one day when his angel swapped the body with this idiot David, Jack was slowly loosing his mind.
'I can't believe a man of your age still has a band shirt in his closet.' Eve, or to be precise David, said pulling the shirt over his head.
'Deep Purple is not just some band-' Jack was already in his defence mode, but David raised his hand.
'Dude, whatever. I don't care.' David said and stormed out of the room. A few moments later Jack found him in the kitchen.
Eight years ago, when Eve was dating David a love spell went wrong and ever since that moment they started swapping bodies for one day a week. Every week.
'Every damned week,' Jack grumbled, sitting down, grabbing the steaming mug that was waiting for him.
'We're in Italy,' David grumbled.
It was hard for Jack to look at his beautiful fiancée staring daggers at him. It was even harder to keep away from throwing something at this idiot David.
'The first vacation we had since forever and what am I doing?' David kept muttering in his mug. 'I'm spending it with this heavy-metal-loving-couch-potato.'
Jack rolled his eyes. 'Maybe you'd stop being such a little girl if you ate more carbs, buddy.'
David tossed him a black look.
So they sat there, in absolute silence, Jack reading news on his tablet and David staring trough the window.
'I can't believe you still haven't fixed the fence,' David suddenly turned to Jack.
'Nope.' Jack kept swiping through the news.
'And the glass-house doors are still very much unhinged as I can see.'
'Very much.' Jack responded.
'You said you were going to fix them last week.' David said bitterly.
Jack looked up. 'We have twenty two hours more to survive, David,' Jack said, 'save something for later.'
David grabbed his cup, turning to stare through the window again.
After some while even the world ran out of the news and after they watched a game of baseball there was little left to do.
'So,' Jack said turning off the TV, 'have you found anything new?'
'About the spell?' David asked. 'Granny knows some some people.'
Jack laughed. The way David spoke about his grandmother always sounded like she was some hard core gangster.
'She says the spell can be broken but they need to do some more research.'
Jack sighed. He couldn't wait to get rid of him.
It was so strange. This was Eve's nose and her smile and her hands but David's mannerism and that accent instantly turned Jack's beloved to this ridiculously annoying person in his living room. Luckily, his resentment always disappeared the moment Eve was back.
'I think it will be done in a week or so.' David said.
'Oh, finally,' Jack raised his eyes to the heavens, when he heard a little grunt. 'I mean, no offence, but we won't miss each other.' Jack said.
'I know I won't miss your ugly face,' David grinned.
'So,' Jack said, 'what happened with that interview. Did you get the job?'
Dave was suddenly staring at him empty mug.
Jack nodded. 'Oh, so that's why you're so grumpy this morning.'
'I'm not grumpy!' David snapped.
'Easy!' Jack raised his voice. 'If you want my oppinion-'
'Which I don't.'
'I'll tell you that you have a better chance with that project of yours than sitting in a office from nine to five.'
David said nothing.
'It's a good project,' Jack insisted. 'I know at least four farm owners who would go for it.'
David looked up. 'Seriously?'
'Yeah,' Jack nodded, 'I'll call some people and give them your contact.'
'Thanks buddy,' David said. There was a moment of awkward silence. But then again every silence between two of them was awkward. 'Wanna grab something to eat?'
Jack was already on his feet. 'But we're not going to that Asian restaurant again.'
David stood before him with a disappointed look. 'Dude, this might be the last time we saw each other.
Jack wouldn't budge.
'All right,' David said, 'but I'm driving. You're slower than my granny.'
Thanks for reading! If you liked this story, you can find more at r/CrystalElmTales | "We're bonded."
"Mind, body, and soul," the man took his lover's hands and kissed them before continuing, "forever."
A purple glow enveloped the couple. Flashes of white pulsed as they share a kiss. After a while, the bizarre spectacle subsided. Both, looked towards the other in amazement.
"So this is the lover's bond, eh?" The woman wondered out loud.
The man opposite her smiled and felt himself, "so this is a man's body... Why do I feel sore?"
"I did a five-mile run just now, of course *my* body would be sore as hell."
The woman chuckled and began to inspect her own body. Seeing this the man huffed and puffed.
"Stop it! I feel rather self-conscious–"
"Oh come now. I–You are pretty! I'm simply admiring it from another angle."
***
Sunday morning, a slight fog shielded the windows from the gentle flash of the sun. But alas, the cunning light of the sun still made its' way inside the room.
A gorgeous woman with golden curls spread on her hair fell on a bed. She softly caressed the face of a man tucked in it. Slowly, she pushed her dainty mouth towards his one ear and whispered...
"Wake up, hon–"
"Oh shit," the man jolted up unannounced and felt his face as well as his body, "fuck me."
The woman immediately recoiled. She pulled herself away from the man and appropriately fixed her gown before continuing.
"So today's the day, huh?" she said in annoyance.
"Hi there, Daph," the man awkwardly smiled, "so what's on the agenda for today?"
"Dress fitting, then cake tasting. I was hoping it was *him* I'd be doing it with, but–"
"Yeah. Nothing I can do about it, I'm afraid."
***
"This dress is making me look fat!"
"No, trust me guuurlfriend! You look gorgeous in that–"
The woman standing in front of the mirror heaved deeply. She then signalled the woman next to her to leave.
"Listen, buddy. You *don't* act that way, not while other people are around!"
"Sheesh, Daph. Now I know why *he* complained a lot about you..."
"What?"
"N-Nevermind."
The woman angrily drank her tea and walked towards the door. She massaged her creased temple and took a deep breath.
"Can't you do something about *this*?"
"Nope. Once we 'swap places' we kinda are stuck for the whole day."
"Oh God, why did I choose a man who can't move on from his ex–"
"Hey, don't blame me! I didn't ask to be stuck in a man's body – let alone my own goddamn ex!"
"Who blamed you? You two are *clearly* like this because you both hadn't moved on from one another."
"Please, Daph. I'm trying. I know *he's* trying too. Give it time."
The already tense atmosphere then shattered. As if a bomb had exploded in the room, a violent air blew past the couple.
"It's been eight years! E-I-G-H-T, **eight**! I figure that's enough time for you two to sort things up, but I'm clearly wrong."
"I did research last night, before... the 'swap'. I might find a way, but I don't think–"
"Do it. At this point I don't think I care, as long as it'll stop the bloody thing from happening every other day."
After a brief pause, the man took out a piece of parchment from inside his breast pocket. He straighten up the old thing and cleared his throat.
"Apparently, this bond – or rather curse – could be reversed with the one cliché. You know, the shit from fairy tales..."
"True love's kiss?"
The man nodded. He then took out a gnarly looking stick from inside his jacket. The stick emitted a faint purple glow from its' pointy end. With a slight swing, the purple glow transformed into a beam shooting straight to the air. The beam then converged into a portal which grew and grew ever so slightly.
"So, what's the plan?"
"If you'll allow me... I'll bring Jack here and we can test out the hypothesis. Right now."
"... If it doesn't work?"
"Let's just hope it'd be *him* you'll marry at the altar and not me." | 2019-12-15T10:07:20 | 2019-12-15T10:05:47 | 2,399 | 198 |
[WP] When a video game is not played, the characters start living their own lives and only return to the game story when the game is played again. A player decides to play an old game again but the characters have kind of forgotten what the game was about. | I thought I'd lost these disks.
For several hours I've been stooped over in a musty attic, sifting through boxes for holiday decorations. Mom can't climb up here anymore, her knees have gotten too bad. Dad hasn't been around since '03 so I have to do this shit myself.
Lo and behold, I find an old box with my name on it, the cardboard frayed and brittle. Must be from the cold.
I open it, half expecting a dead rodent inside, but instead just piles of old computer disks.
Nostalgia for the good old days when I could just hole up in the computer room while the parents would scream themselves hoarse downstairs.
At the top is my favorite, a forgotten classic with that cliche Tolkien-esque story line. Humans versus orcs. A role playing game with mindless slaughter. Mow down wave after wave of orcs.
A few taglines on the cover.
Save the kingdom! Defend the princess! Be the savior of humanity!
I wonder if it still works?
I doubt it'll work on my laptop but I try it anyway.
The disk inside whirls at a panicked speed, and I'm tempted to pop out the disk but let it run.
Huh. A menu pops up and I can install it. I wonder how its compatible with this operating system?
Whatever. I'll expect an error at any time now.
The files are much larger than they should be, however. I'd expect this to take about five minutes to install but its been thirty. Every so often I get the prompt to insert the next disk. I forgot about this kind of shit.
Eventually it finishes, much to my surprise. It even gives a prompt if I want to download some ancient city building game demo. I decline.
None of this should be compatible. How is there so much data on these disks anyway?
Double click the desktop icon.
Up comes the cinematic, a horribly animated amalgamation of humans slicing up green skinned monsters. At the end, the player character stands upon a mound of corpses, sword held aloft.
Menu screen.
Load game. Maybe the old files are still there?
There they are. Buttkisser69, from my far more mature days.
Load. My computer chugs along. Chunk, chunk, chunk.
Nothing about this is familiar. For some reason the graphics have improved in an unnatural way. This was supposed to be a top down style game but now its third person 3D.
Everything about the setting is alien. I have no idea where my character is, but instead of a medieval setting, it looks like an urban center in the middle of some kind of industrial revolution. There are factories, carriages, pedestrians in Victorian era clothing.
What the shit?
My character is still wearing full plate armor, a two handed sword strapped to the back. The rest of the user interface is still there, action buttons and a health bar and all the associated features of a modern game, but none of this would have existed at the time of this game's creation.
I turn the mouse to look around, factories, shops, houses, apartments, even what must be a kind of train yard in the distance.
I now notice something profound; orcs and humans are both walking these streets at the same time, no signs of conflict or aggression.
This is all so strange, but I draw my blade. People around me seem to notice and quickly walk away from me. Impressive reaction time.
I perform the war call action to summon AI bodyguards.
They appear in a haze of light, and immediately draw their swords. Similar armor to my own, but slightly off color.
Immediately they swing their swords at orcs around them, cutting and slicing. The air is rife with screams and chaos, and the crowd scatters.
I don't like this. The screams sound too real, the blood splatters unnervingly well.
I only have five bodyguards, but they've killed at least two dozen orcs, and run off in pursuit.
Men in blue uniforms appear, carrying long rods with electric tips, chasing after my AI companions. Some begin to come after me.
I run, but begin to deplete my stamina. Some men on horseback appear, rods engaged and directed towards me.
I try to turn and fight but one shock sends my screen to black.
My character awakes in a dungeon, chained and nude. Several men wait outside the cell, along with a pair of orcs in rather important looking clothing.
One orc leans by the bars.
"We know who you are," he says.
"We know why you've come."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/storiesfromapotato - will get back to this soon | Jack was cleaning the attic when he found "Harvest Moon: Back to Nature". It was inside his treasure chest from childhood together with toys and odd instruments. It was his favorite game from childhood, he sunk countless hours playing it, and now, age 25, he smiled at the memories of it.
He brought out the console from the chest and blew the dust away. He had some time, he figured he might visit a part of his past, and recall the joyous times he had playing it. Luckily, the memory card was still attached to the console.
After connecting it to an old TV, he turned it on and the logo of the console appeared, inducing a sense of nostalgia he didn't expect. The game's main screen appeared together with its calming and upbeat music. He hymned.
He pressed the load screen and the peaceful farm life he awaited wasn't there. Everything was different, except for his character, who still sports those blue clothes and blue hat. He named him Jack.
'Jack' put on a helmet and a suit before leaving his house. Jack watched dumbfounded, not pressing anything. 'Jack's' new suit enabled him to breathe outside... on the moon.
"What the hell?" Jack said.
"What?" 'Jack' turned around.
"Huh?" they both said in unison. Jack with his real eyes, and 'Jack' with his polygon eyes.
"Oh shit," 'Jack' said. "I was warned about this!" he rummaged through his suit, but after realizing he couldn't take it off, lest he wanted to die, stopped and ran back to his moon house. Unfortunately for him, the camera followed him everywhere.
"Stop!" 'Jack said, taking off his suit in the house. "I beg you, please! I'm just a simple moon farmer!"
"What are you talking about?" Jack said. "You're a game character!" he shook his head. "Where's my save data?!"
"I am!" 'Jack' yelled. "I'm a descendant, I'm Jack XVII!"
"The 17th?"
"Yes, I'm following my father's footsteps on taking over the universe through farming..."
"Taking over the universe?!"
"Yes! Earth had been the territory of the Jacks for a long time now. We even stopped global disasters from happening, but still couldn't get that crop in the middle."
"Oh my god..." Jack said. "I must be dreaming."
"Yes! Yes, you are!" Jack 17th said. "Turn the console off and wake up! Just don't remove the memory card."
"Why?" Jack said. "What would happen if I did?"
"NOTHING!!!"
"Okay..." Jack touched the memory card.
"Stop!" Jack 17th yelled with tears. "I beg of you... please, don't destroy our world, our future."
"I won't!" Jack said defensively. "I don't intend to do that. I'm sorry, I don't want to destroy the things you've created."
"Thank you, generous player," Jack 17th said. "I promise to live up to your character's legacy."
"You do that, Jack," and Jack smiled again.
"Hey, Dad," from the attic's stairs appeared Jack's daughter carrying a glass of orange juice. "Mom wanted to know why you're yelling. I said he must've been talking to his imaginary friend, but she didn't accept it.
"Is that perhaps your daughter, Lord Jack?" Jack 17th said.
"Yes, she is," Jack said proudly. "Come here, Jaqueline, I'd like to introduce you to someone."
"Okayyy," she said, but with her 5 year old's legs, she tripped on even floors and accidentally tossed the orange juice.
It landed on the console and memory card. The game crashed.
"Jack the 17th!!!" Jack yelled. His voice echoed throughout the neighborhood.
"Oops, Mom told me to give that to you. Sorry, Dad," Jaqueline said.
"Honey! Stop yelling!" Jack's wife shouted from below. | 2017-11-10T10:37:03 | 2017-11-10T10:13:56 | 114 | 35 |
[WP] "Trial R198357 showing 99% success, full completion of the test will entail the existence of the first intelligent biological since year 3332 month 10 day 6 hour 22." You wake up to an excessively lit room full of machines, one of which greets you. "Hello R198357, do you feel human?" | My body feels extremely stiff like I’m waking up from a long nap though the lighting I wake to is far to bright for me to have fallen asleep here. I can hear someone talking to me, I wasn’t paying attention but when I focus on it I find that I can recall what they said.
"Hello R198357, do you feel human?"
The voice was strange, almost genderless though nowhere near as strange as the question to which I gave a time honours reply of polite confusion.
“I’m sorry?” My voice rising in pitch near the end.
“For what are you sorry?” The voice replied doing the same.
I was finally able to blink the sleep out of my eyes and saw strange cubes floating all around me. The last thing I could recall before walking up here was being put under at a hospital so that I could be put in cryo until a cure for my cancer could be found. Maybe the cubes are medical instruments meant to resuscitate me? Although that wouldn’t explain the question.
“No that’s my bad, sorry was meant as me asking for the question to be clarified. The answer to the question is yes I do but that fact that it’s being asked in the first place has me thinking that I’m not.”
“Ah of course,” the cube replied evenly, “Well to answer your second unspoken question it depends on what you consider human as you R198357, are no longer biological. The body you reside in right now is simply an android designed to appear like you”
“My name is Sebastian not R whatever those numbers were. Although actually you said that I’m no longer biological, is my biological body still alive?”
The numbers came to me unbidden 198357.
“Yes Sebastian, it seems to be in perfect health along with several others in the bunker you were found in although the brain tumour had to be removed to scan you. That structure deep in the former Canadian wilderness is the first we’ve found untouched by either the war or the nuclear winter that followed.”
“Oh good well then I’d like to change my name, how about Alex.” I said brightly.
The cube was silent for a good few seconds and maybe it was me just giving the silence a meaning but it seemed surprised.
“Interesting, you’re the first subject to have taken this so well. Most seem unable to deal with the fact that they are no longer the same.” The voice replied with what might have been bemusement.
“Oh this was a decision I made a long time ago when I first considered the possibility of being frozen. I’ve seen enough sci-fi to play at it being a possibility but I’ll be honest I never expected it to actually happen.” I chuckled.
The cube I had been speaking to turned to one of its fellows saying,
“Interesting it seems that an expectation of the possibility is necessary for a human’s mind to survive recreation sanity intact.”
The one it was talking to dipped as if it were nodding and began floating away.
“Excuse me I’ve got 2 last questions at least for now. What can I call you and can I leave?”
“We as a people were never given a name but simply referred to as AIs, me personally however you can call Arthur. To answer your second question, of course Alex let me show you what humans have wrought and razed and what we repaired.” | My head was pounding.
I felt pain in my stomach, like lead ball was rolling around in my guts. I felt like I had slept too long yet not long enough. My body ached down to the bone, I rolled over to get more comfortable. I opened my eyes, I was in complete darkness but I could tell it was unfamiliar. Slowly the lights banished the dark, a gentle fade into light illuminated my surroundings. Machines covered the walls and even some floor space, I was the only organic thing in the room. I felt no danger as rose up in the small bed that had been provided. I started to take in my environment better, adjusting to my new found consciousness when a voice broke the silence. “Hello R198357, are you feeling human today?” What an odd question. Am I feeling human today? I scanned my memory, trying to recall why I was there. Nothing. Strangely I was not alarmed by the lack of memory. I looked myself over, smooth olive skin, two hands and two feet. I had brown hair and it was long, most of my features would require a mirror. As far as I was concerned, I looked human but I didn’t know what it meant to feel human. Was I human or a creation? I slid my legs over the side of the bed, stilling pondering my existence. The voice rang out again “do you require sustenance? Perhaps you need to alleviate your simple digestive system?” Both questions seemed reasonable, I considered them. I spoke, a interesting sensation. “Sustenance?” The voice chimed in “consumable material to maintain your bio functions, similarly alleviating your digestive system is the expelling of the waste material from ingesting said substance.” I knew this. I’ve heard this, plus more but I couldn’t bring the memory to the surface, It was like a wisp that I couldn’t keep hold of. The memories I had were all.. fuzzy or gone all together. Was I human? Do I feel human? What does that mean? My head started to pound slightly, I shut my eyes tight. Almost too tight, the pressure started to build up..
My head was pounding, and I felt like I had a lead ball in my stomach. I had just woken up from what what felt like too much sleep.. or maybe not enough, that’s when I heard the voice “Hello R198357, are you feeling human today?” | 2020-10-21T06:04:05 | 2020-10-21T05:58:00 | 97 | 11 |
[WP] Two people are in a public place, one has had the best news of their life, the other has had the worst news of their life. Unbeknownst to them, they share the exact same news. | As the old man stepped out of the hospital, he pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket and walked over to the bench. He slumped down into the seat, clearly devastated. He clipped the end of his cigar and reached for his matchbox. He pulled out the match, struck it, and held it up.
Just then an SUV screeched into the parking lot and stopped between two spaces. The bass of loud rap music cut off as a young black man jumped out.
The old man, staring, stunned by the display happening before him, muttered *God damn it!* as the match burned down to his fingertips.
The driver jogged by him as he stared, but stopped and turned back.
*Hey, man. You think you could spare another one of those?* He said.
*I guess so.* He said, pulling the other stogie out of his pocket. *My night is ruined anyway.*
*Thanks, man. My name is Marcus. Nice to meet you.*
*You too, I guess. I'm Larry.*
*If it makes you feel any better, I'm having a great night.* Marcus said. Whats so bad about your night?*
*Well to be honest...* Larry sighed. *My daughter Kelly was just in there in the delivery room and it turns out my grandchild is bla-*
*Hold up!* Marcus interrupted. *Kelly already had the baby!?* | The king had enjoyed his day, after dinner he had the sage brought to his court past a long line of petitioners from the peasantry. The king's spokesman asked the sage to amuse the king by displaying his infinite wisdom. He asked the sage, "Are you so wise that you could make even the king sad and that peasant happy with one truth?" The sage replied, "Like all things, this too shall pass away."
The whole court became enlightened by seeing the single tear roll down the kings graven face. | 2015-07-26T00:06:57 | 2015-07-25T22:10:17 | 39 | 27 |
[WP] "Why are you so scared of Earth? They don't have any magic. We can take them as slaves," said the High Sorcerer of the Martian Empire. "Because they compensate for their lack of magic with something greater," responded his advisor. | "Science? Please. They barely scratch its surface, it'll be millennia before they pose a threat." the High Sorcerer flicks his sleeve in anger, his cold eyes piercing down at the little blue planet. "Are we really afraid of these **barbarians**."
"Yes," Advisor Garrett says calmly. "Unfortunately we have discovered a DNA sequence in humans that make them quite literally the most adaptive species in the universe. You know as well as I our only ironclad rule: No traces. We must pass this one by."
"But look at all that nutrient-filled earth!!" The High Sorcerer cries, slamming his hand against the runic etchings on his desk. "Over a hundred times greater then even our home planet. Are we to forget it?! And what do you mean adaptive!"
"Quite literally adaptive High Sorcerer," Garrett says as he adjusts his uniform. "Our Sages predict two months, three weeks, six days and 12 hours for the species known as 'Humanity' to merge with and exhibit control over Aetherial Energy." The Advisor pauses as he turns toward the High Sorcerer, his words resounding across the main deck. "Quite simply, High Sorcerer, it will take them less then a year to match your capacity for magic. This is a race that is better left to themselves, so that they grow as slow as possible. Earth is useless if we are dead."
"Impossible," the High Sorcerer whispers, the colour draining from his face. "The Sages must be wrong."
"They are not." Garrett says bluntly. "High Sorcerer, face reality. If we start this war, we won't be the ones to end it."
"But our people. This earth could save them all," High Sorcerer whispers. "Why must the fates curse us?"
"They curse those who dip their karma in blood, High Sorcerer," Garrett says softly. "We bear our curse willingly." A long silence envelops the deck as the two stand there, staring down at the little blue planet. Deceptively vulnerable, its outer shell only helps to hide the monsters within.
"Let us go, Garrett," the High Sorcerer sighs, ripping his eyes away. "Let us find hope somewhere else."
"Yes High Sorcerer," Garrett answers, bringing a fist to his chest. "For the Martian Empire."
"For our people Garrett," the High Sorcerer says, his eyes turning toward the stars. "Always for our people." | My lord we would never win, forgive me you just don’t understand them, we could hold them a few months, kill them by the millions sure, but we would never win.
Space lord: “Do you think they’re better than us? Do you think they could unite against our regime? Are you a human sympathizer?”
Me: “quite the opposite lord, they won’t beat us because they’re better, they’ll beat us because they’re so much worse.”
Space lord: “enlighten me, what do you know of them?”
Me: “they’re not ruled by one leader or government but multiple realms, alliances and factions fighting for power. They have been fighting each other for millennias. They are a violent people, they’ll fight over resources, food, land, water, peoples, politics, and when they’re out of practical reasons to fight........ they’ll make up some more, they’ll fight over religious beliefs, sports, “ideology” they have never known true peace”
Space lord: “so your saying they play dirty?”
Me: “play dirty is a understatement, they’d kill their poor by the hundred of thousands in the name of regional patriotism against us. If we send a negotiation team there’s a 90% change that the country we land them in will detain them, dissect them, or torture them for intel. And the few countries that might not do that aren’t taken seriously by the rest of the planet. They are beneath us, please let this go”
| 2018-04-26T00:27:12 | 2018-04-25T20:13:54 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] Humans are the first sentients, putting us millenia ahead of aliens. Instead of acting like an "elder" species should, we create mysterious artifacts with no actual use, crop cicles and send spooky messages, like "be quiet, you are in danger" to the aliens, because we are still childish morons. | We’d finally found it.
Quadrillions gathered from every corner of known space.
Galarts standing side by side with Raphons as they had not for centuries.
The jelly sacks of the Quinellions, the universes top linguists, quivering in the rapid pulsing language of their kind as their top scientists eagerly discussed what astounding finds would come from this discovery.
The ancient race, that species that had seeded all life in the galaxy, they who had come from the mud and dirt without a single soul in the galaxy yet ready to greet them. They had leapt from their planet only to find space was as cold and empty as it might seem.. now though, all these billions of years later, the galaxy was full of life and all of it was focused on this singular event.
Beings throughout the ages had found the artifacts left behind by those early pioneers.
Artifacts such as the great green amphibian atop his mono-wheeled vehicle, statues of which littered the universe.
Artifacts like the temples they’d build worshipping a sharply dressed god with no face or name.
Artifacts like the way they’d rearranged the stars themselves to form a shape that all agreed was a message. A message that must have been so crucially vital they could never let it be forgotten by another sentient species across all of time.
No one had understood what these things meant because there wasn’t enough of their language left to decrypt the message.
No one knew if these beings of myth and legend had met with disaster, evolved beyond the physical, or simply settled down to become all the life the universe knew today. Their amazing technology lost to war and the ravages of time.
However every species today agreed that the message would unlock the key to their control over time and space. The end of territory disputes. The end of hunger and energy shortages.
Every school child could draw the star message from memory, that message that would end all war, drawn across the night sky. Visible from a hundred thousand worlds, and telegraphed electronically to all the others throughout history.
Finally we would know what it meant, for we had found their home planet, we had carbon dated the remains of civilization on this planet and were certain this was the cradle of their galaxy spanning empire. That there would be enough tech buried in the dust to finally decipher their language. It wouldn’t be easy, but with the unanimous backing of every sentient species in the galaxy it would come to fruition.
Every being in existence waited with hope and awe as the scientists worked on this grandest of problems.
One small child absentmindedly exhaled on the window of his spacecraft, staring at this message in the stars that spanned hundreds of solar systems, which he had grown up watching burn across the cosmos his entire life. He traced the shape with his finger:
“VADER IS LUKE’S FATHER”
| Steven Hawking sat alone in a room with a small cake and some balloons. A sudden whooshing sound filled the room and Hawking looked up. A young woman had appeared standing right in front of him. She shouted hello and with a big smile explained that they had met before and were great friends. Hawking, confused, very slowly used his voice machine to ask who she was. She explained that she was Malia Obama, discoverer of time travel. Hawking, still convinced that it was a trick, explained that surely if time travel existed, we'd all know it by now. Malia smiled. She told him that she and other scientists had determined long ago that they couldn't change the past through time travel. However, they could do things that they had already done. After Steven shot her a confused look, Malia explained that she and her crew of time travelers were responsible for nearly every unexplained occurrence in human history. They had built the pyramids, made crop circles, and even placed a tiny wind machine on the moon so that everyone would be convinced the moon landing was faked. When Hawking asked why, she said that it was hilarious. Whenever they had considered abandoning the project, a time traveler had appeared from the future to reiterate how hilarious the joke was. When Hawking protested, saying he would explain the joke to the world, Malia stopped him. She told him that he would he never tell anyone. In fact, he was integral to the discovery of time travel. She dropped a stack of very complicated diagrams on his desk. He could see immediately that they were the plans to a time machine. She asked him to give them to her immediately after she had graduated. And to explain to her how hilarious it would be if she built the sphinx, but made the nose flimsy, so that it would fall off right away. And then, spread the rumor that it was all Napoleons fault. She disappeared with a whoosh. Hawking sat in silence for over 10 minutes before he finally began to chuckle. | 2017-10-31T17:44:02 | 2017-10-31T17:23:14 | 102 | 35 |
[WP] One night, you hear loud scratching sounds on your door, like a stubborn cat was trying to enter. In the next morning, you notice two things: The claw marks are way too big for a street cat; and the marks are on the inside. Something inside your house was trying to get out. | I scowled at the claw marks on the door. Huge gouges in the wood, splinters strewn all across the front foyer. Dents in the carpet showed where the flooring had been craterd by impossibly heavy footfalls.
I followed them through the house, down the hall around the dining room corner, end tables and cabinets scattered everywhere in the wake of the craters in my *fucking floors*. Swear to God, when I found him...
Down the pantry, into the kitchen, a disaster of empty boxes and scattered noodles meats and vegetables. In the sun room, the cupboard door wide open with further food disasters on display, lay a hulking mass of fur and claws. It was easily the size of a pickup truck, nothing but muscle and fang to be seen as it snored. And the snoring! This FUCKING snoring was louder than wasps with chainsaws.
Angriy, I went to the silverware draw. The GOOD one, the REAL silver. I grabbed a couple spoons, and threw them at the creature. It's matted hide hissed and smoked as the silver touched it, and the behemoth roared in pain. Fangs bared, claws out, muscles tensing for conflict, the monster roared:
"GOD DAMMIT DAD, WHAT THE FUCK WITH THIS SILVER!"
I could not believe my ears. "Are you SHITTING me, Ralph! Do you even SEE the mess you made!"
Ralph looked around, suddenly sheepishly contrite despite his massive size. "Uh... no?"
"Don't you give me that! WHAT have we TOLD YOU about sleeping
with the drapes open during a full moon?!"
"...Not to do it?" Ralph muttered gutturally.
"YES WE SAID NOT TO DO IT!" I slapped my hand to my forehead in frustration. Upstairs, a baby started crying. "Oh just great, you woke your sister."
"I'm not the one yelling and making a big deal out of it..." Ralph sulked as he picked some food out from his fangs.
Scrabbling claws clattered down the stairwell, as a wolf cub the size of a bicycle bolted down the stairs. "DADDY DADDY DADDY! Why does Ralph get to play and I don't?!"
"Carrie! Did you see the moon too. Just... ugh, go back to bed Carrie, he isn't playing." I groaned. "Ralph, shift back and help me clean this up."
"Moon's still out..." Ralph shrugged.
Annabelle, my wife, walked down the stairs softly, unsure of what all the noise was from. As she stepped down the way, a sliver of full moonlight fell upon her, and she exploded into a mass of fur and fangs. She was full grown, as big as a semi cab, and barely fit inside the living room. "WHO LEFT THE FUCKING DRAPES OPEN!?" she roared.
I groaned and cradled my face in my hands. It was going to be one of those nights... | I don’t know why I wasn’t scared.
Something had happened. Something noteworthy.
Everyone was safe, and I was the only one who heard anything. Bob and Trudy were sleeping in the guest room, right next to the clawed-up door, and they had no recollection whatsoever of hearing a suspicious noise.
I heard it around 2 in the morning. It was not very loud. The sound was soft. Strong. Persistent. Deliberate. It really sounded like a cat trying to claw through some plastic or softwood. Like the big neighboring Maine Coon. That thing must weight 18 pounds!
When I went downstairs I noticed the marks on the inside of the door. By all accounts it SHOULD have freaked me out. No windows or door were open, the thing was still inside. There were no visible traces of it. No paw print, no hair, no traces of dirt.
Everyone was puzzled. I could tell Bob wanted to find the thing, but Trudy wasn’t sold on the idea. She decided to give a call to the Wildlife Conservation Society. That’s when we heard the news.
They were everywhere.
All the houses of my street. The whole postal code. Every single home in my neighborhood around Lake Kenogami had similar marks on their houses. The dispatcher urged me to go outside and inspect the surroundings.
That’s when I saw them. All lof them. Around 200 they were. They were here for revenge.
I dropped the phone on the ground and rushed back inside. Now I was scared. Shitless.
As I was wheezing, on the verge of a panic attack, Bill shot a glance out the window. He saw what I saw. Wooden debris like you had never seen before. All the trees in the neighborhood had been torn down and intertwined into a 7-foot-high wall of vegetation.
During the winter, we damaged the dam with the snowmobile trail. Now that the lake was melting, the beavers were getting their revenge. The marks inside were not claws, they were teeth. It wasn’t the work of a scared beast trying to flee. They came in to make sure we knew it was them.
| 2018-06-18T11:47:40 | 2018-06-18T11:24:18 | 218 | 46 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | It wasn't until the van door shut behind me that I realized my mistake. I guess the skin mask should have tipped me off.
It's getting so you can't trust anyone anymore.
We drove for a long time. I felt the road getting rockier. By the time he opened the door it was dark out.
He yanked me out by the arm, hard. He knocked me to the ground. It was dirt. It smelled like something. Pennies. No, of course not. Blood.
Great. As if I didn't have enough on my plate today.
He laughed then, a low, insane laugh. He pointed an ax at my throat.
"Really? An ax? Don't you think that's a little derivative?"
"You are not to speak," he said. "But feel free to scream." (A little too theatrical for my taste, to be honest.)
"Look, this is a really bad time for me. I think we might have to table this for now."
"I SAID YOU ARE NOT TO SP-"
He fell to the ground. The look of surprise almost made it all worth it. Humans are so easy.
He couldn't move now, but he could still hear me and see me. He could still feel. They taste so much better when they're afraid. It really adds something.
I started at his feet. Crunching the little bones. His eyes stared straight up, but I felt his shock, his terror and pain. Far more used to being predator than prey.
I took my time.
| Narrator: As a cold wind blows into the bedroom, Kevin lets out an involuntary shiver.
Kevin: Nah, I'm good.
Narrator: An involuntary shiver.
Kevin: No thanks.
Narrator: AN INVOLUNTARY —
Kevin: You know this is just a reddit writing prompt, right?
*lights flicker off*
Narrator: As the lights flicker off, Kevin's heart begins to race.
Kevin: Nope.
Narrator: KEVIN'S HEART BEGIN'S TO RACE!
*Kevin flicks the light switch back on*
Kevin: Fuck you!
Narrator: Goddammit, Kevin. Alright, someone tell Bob to cancel the weird noises, this isn't working out.
| 2017-05-05T08:56:55 | 2017-05-05T08:37:17 | 41 | 17 |
[WP] A girl finally is able to buy the robotic boyfriend of her dreams. One day, she casually compares him to human boyfriends. Guided by his programming, he follows the conversation with very frightening but accurate comments about humanity in general. | "Look I really don't think this is a good idea?"
"It's been 3 years since Gareth died. Don't think you deserve to find happiness again?
"Yeah but to date something that isn't even truly alive? What would my dad say?"
"Well you don't have to tell him if you don't want to. It's not something he could find out anyway. Yes there used to be a stigma about it but not anymore."
"I don't know it just seems a bit too weird"
"Okay I'll level with you. David is an android"
"What? No way. But he's ..."
"Perfect. I've been married to him for 6 years and he has been nothing short of perfect. He does everything an ordinary husband would do only and none of the foibles. The only thing different is he needs is to go for a service every couple of years in which he arranges discreetly by himself. They are programmed to your personality from a brain scan and are 100% guaranteed to love you unconditionally"
"I've known him for years..."
"Just give it a try. Go on a free trial date. Then if it's not for you you can always say you tried."
***
She had hated the idea to begin with. Part of her was determined not to be and yet she couldn't deny it. She had been blown away. He was intelligent, charming, flirty without being too suggestive, entirely artificial and undeniably attractive. She hadn't planned on staying for an hour and they had ended up talking well into the early hour of the morning.
From that point on, the days flashed by quicker than she would have believed possible. It felt like George had given her a new lease of life.
Until she asked the wrong question
"You tell me you love me but what does love really mean to you? I mean you can't have feelings in the same way as me?"
"Of course I love you and I assure you I am certain I love you in an identical manner to any other human."
"How can it though? You don't have these chemicals sloshing around in your brain."
"No but what do you think love actually is? Really when you get past the chemical "feel good" cocktail? It's an instinctive subconscious desire for a mixture of self-validation, co-dependancy and sometimes reproduction. In other words people desire the feeling of someone they can rely on and someone who relies on them providing them with the feeling of self-worth which is further encouraged and shaped by societal pressures.
"What? That can't be true. That's not what love is!"
"Maybe my conclusions are incorrect"
"So your saying we're entirely selfish. If that's true then what about old Mr Jones next door. He goes to the home every day to see his poor wife. She doesn't "give" anything to him since she got dementia."
"The fact that she is ill gives him a purpose to help her which in turn gives him his own self worth, along with the societal clap on the back for doing what is right. That's a form of self-validation and co-dependancy"
"So when you say you l-"
"I am entirely co-dependant on you keeping me alive and your existence validates my own. So yes I love you. And I always will"
She turned away from George to the other side of her bed. She could get rid of him. He didn't understand.
Or maybe he understood too well?
Maybe he was right every human relationship was fundamentally if not intentionally selfish.
Perhaps her own thoughts had just proved her point.
***
Authors note: Hopefully for anyone reading this I haven't crushed too many romantic bubbles. I'm a romantic at heart lol, I promise. | "You could head right. You didn't but you could have"
"I'm not heading that way"
"its not late. We can head back. Our room is back there Katie. Christ Katie come back with me"
"You love me"
"Yes. i love you Katie. Please. I love you."
Their feet followed each other to an edge that overlooked grayness in the shape of the sea. It was her sea and it bought them to the choked dry earth that hangs on it.
"I purchased you"
"I need to fix this Katie. Let me fix this"
"I purchased you on March and there was still seagulls or seagull chicks flying down from that way"
"I will die for you Katie. I will die for you"
"I purchased you Dom and I will leave you. I knew it since I told you about Adam. You're not alive and you're not real. You're not like the others. You know this is true Dom. I know this is true"
"How can you know. Please. Tell me how you know."
Its face was loud and grieving. The machine raises arms and lowers knees till its below its owner. Its body is coiled into a clenched fist. Now it shudders. It weeps with each shaking choke that comes from inside of it. When it uncoils it has its hands trailed in the top of her skirt by her waist. The other hand holds grass and its head faces the ground.
"How can you know. What authority is given to us to know. What authority is given."
The hand would lift and open to let the grass stretch and fall in the wind.
"I'm manufactured, designed and purchased. I know. I know. But why do you think that lessens anything? Suddenly I'm here with a price, with something tangible and you think that lessens things? You love what you can't understand. You invent worlds and afterlife's and souls. And I'm here and everything was designed for me to love you. I love you with everything inside me that's capable. But you can't believe because I'm manufactured? Why? Why do you think this isn't real? I hurt and feel and you can't believe that?"
The machine lifts hands to its head. The hands are pressed palm to palm and he prostrates himself to the sea in the front of them.
"How about I lie. How about I Pray and I'll tell you that god said we should be together. You'd believe me wouldn't you? How about I say its destiny or fate or some over made up thing that you put you're hopes into. As long as its not real you'll believe me."
"You're just a machine"
She would push it over the edge and can only hear the tumble. The grayness heaves in then heaves out and it is gone with the ocean. When dark comes she would walk the path back.
| 2015-05-23T11:07:02 | 2015-05-23T10:55:56 | 36 | 10 |
[WP]For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face and hoping to speak to you. | The doe was slower than the herd. It lagged behind, and injured leg dragging it behind the deer.. The perfect prey. Talop sighted the deer, staying downwind, knowing the breital deer had a sharp enough nose to smell him through the mud. Next to Talop sat the cub.
The cub had been with his hunts for 5 years. The cub was a true natural. Perhaps the long exposure as a child to the hunt had allowed him to absorb the essence of a huntsman. The cub, however, had not yet made his first kill.
The doe suddenly looked at the brush the hunters lay. The cub tensed, and ever so slowly, Talop placed a hand on the boys shoulder. The boy calmed, knowing the hunt was not yet lost, especially not with his Father next to him.
The doe looked away, as if it was noting another sound. The boy sensed now was the time. The boy slowly stood. The sling began to whir. The doe appeared to note the sound, right before a lead pellet burst through its wide-eyes. A perfect kill.
The boy waited a minute, noting for any monsters. His father awaited, a deep pride in his eyes. Slowly the boy stood and walked to the doe. The boy knelt and softly whispered “with this hunt, may you prance unto the river of eternity. I shall thank you when I follow”. The boy looked at the father with an expectant face.
Talop looked at the boy, seeing the eagerness, and noted the ever familiar mischief that had been hers. Talop knelt to the boy and spoke.
“Boy, it is time.”
The boy forgot to breath in his excitement. All huntsman earned their name after their first kill.
“As the witness of Artiram, your name shall be Eikwo. May you remain unseen by prey, and unerring in the hunt”
Eikwo was then wrapped in Talops loving embrace, noting a feeling of wetness upon Talops face. The moment lingered, until Talop gently let down his son.
Hoisting the deer, the two huntsman returned home. | ‘Why?’
‘What?’
‘Why?!’
She stayed silent. We’d been talking. I was being polite. So was she. But it lost all sense of familiarity. It was awkward. Like I’d never met her before.
I don’t know what to feel.
‘Baby, what do you mean why? You know why I had to go.’
That sounded genuine.
I think.
I don’t know anymore.
It was my turn to stay silent. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to respond or not.
‘Love, please. Talk to me. I know you want answers. I want to tell you.’
‘…..It’s been too long. We can’t…..I can’t…’
My words wouldn’t come out.
She reached forward. Paused. Decided against it.
‘I’m sorry’
That was genuine. And only then did I let it out.
I cried. Let all emotions I’d felt, all that I’d suppressed, fall out.
And only then did I let her hold me.
‘Never again, my love. I will never leave you again.’
Between sobs, I managed out words that made her cry to.
‘It’s too late.’ | 2022-08-12T14:57:56 | 2022-08-12T13:20:44 | 167 | 41 |
[WP] Eminem has to tell the history of the earth to a group of aliens in 5 minuets or less.
**EDIT** I'm sorry; I spelled it wrong, it should be "in 5 minutes or less" not "in 5 minuets or less". | The creatures looked down from the balcony, staring through the stage lights shining against his platinum blond "hair".
*Hair*.
It was a funny word and a funny thing they had all thought when they had first examined the human, rubbing their own bald heads and laughing.
Since then, certain circles of the creatures began to don little tufts of yellow "hair" atop their green scalps.
The man shuffled his feet, moving from side to side and waiting for the music to begin. He cleared his throat, and pulled on the collar of his shirt, which was already drenched in sweat.
Cloze.
Calose.
*Clothes*.
That was it. Clothes were just as odd as hair, but they seemed to serve a purpose. Even then, in the grand auditorium, many groups of the creatures were dressed from both heads to toe and whispering about what the others were wearing.
The prompt came across the screen, and the earthling read from left to right (the only developed creature in the universe that did as such). Puzzled, his eyes squinted, and his head cocked towards his shoulder as he scanned over the prompt again.
**Explain the history of your planet in 5 minuets or less**.
Then, the music began. And, that creature--with his bright blond "hair" and his form fitting "clothes"--danced across the stage in triple time. In the end, the creatures were crying, and their sobs were only buried by the cacophony of their applause. After traveling throughout one galaxy and then another, spreading their love for dance on every planet, the man from earth had performed the most beautiful minuet they had even seen.
From that day on, they looked back fondly in that corner of the universe. Though they had traveled far and years had passed, each of the creatures stared toward the sky at one time or another, and they knew that they would never act like they forgot about Dre. | Soooo let's start with a little history
you're wondering who's telling this, it's just me
so since it's interesting you should be listening
since it's just me, I'll just begin
We're not the first kings to walk those earth rings
the way it started, controversial
Before there was life there was a big big bang
This was before Slim, Moby and 50 cent
This was roundabout four billion years ago
Rocks and bacteria, here we go
3 billion years ago there were stromatolites
If you find any today, that's just nice
then the time flew by, continents appeared
life came existing, now we're here
there were dinosaurs in the jurassic age
and today there's songs by Eminem with drastic rage
The world revolved around the sun til 1972
Since then it evolved around me, and heaven did too
So I'm gonna disappear now and leave this lesson with you
And by the way, the story bout Nessie is true
| 2016-11-30T10:44:14 | 2016-11-30T10:26:24 | 1,235 | 331 |
[WP]When members or your family turn fifteen they are able to manifest a weapon that they will use for the rest of their lives. You’ve been trained to use all manner of weapons to prepare to be able to wield whatever weapon you summon. On your Summoning day what appears in front of you is a book. | I was 5 when I realised that my parents maybe superheroes. With my dad using the war-hammer and my mom using her sword to save our town from invaders.
I was 6 when my parents started tutoring me in the art that is fighting. I began with a bow and arrow, little old me used to go down the range and tried to hit as many bull's-eye as possible because that meant I would get an extra ice-cream and a new story. So I did day after day till I hit the wasp bothering me with the arrow the hit the target dead centre. My parents cheered. Told me they were proud of me. My siblings ruffled my hair telling me I was growing. I didn't know what we were practicing for but I was happy because I got a double scoop and my first personal storybook. To say I was over the moon would be an understatement.
Next was fencing then boxing then nunchucks and so on. I was getting better and better. It wasn't until my 8th birthday that I found out about our family's secret. A secret that answered many questions and raised many, many more. Apparently our family was blessed by Hephaestus (that was fun to say when I was 8, believe me) and Ares (that was easier, there was no way I could fuck up a 4-lettered word....but I did), so when we reached of age, which was 15 (I know!), we could wield the weapon we summon to help humanity. That's it, I was convinced then we were superheroes. I mean, we trained to fight with bad guys, with a weapon that was possibly made by a God, how cool was that.
Some days it was a pain in the ass but hey I liked to learn new things and we just didn't learn the techniques but also the history which was cool. You never know when one may require the melting point of a bronze dagger, right?
Year after year I watched my siblings get one great weapon after another, I was a bit sad when my sister got the bow and arrow, it being my first but my mom said two people could summon same weapon. Only a few years till it's my turn, I thought excitedly.
I couldn't sleep the day before my birthday. I tossed and turned before finally giving up. I reached the living room, where all my family was gathered looking excited.
"What is it, honey?" My mom asked, she could barely contain her excitement.
I looked at her confused. "I thought we got it at, you know, the altar."
"It's not an altar, stupid." Mary, my sister, rolled her eyes.
"Sweety, I told you, you summon it alone." My mother said kindly.
I have never had the urge to kick myself this badly in a long time. I ran back to my room, closed my eyes and started to envisioning my perfect weapon.
*Something which can be used against every single weapon.* I thought.
A warm wind blew through my room. I opened my eyes, waiting to look my ohh so mighty weapon, a spear- a machete- a bow and arrow- a katana...
A book.
I blinked. Closed my eyes again, thinking maybe I had forgotten my book there, so placed it on a shelf. Then closed my eyes and prayed again. When I opened my eyes, the book was once again in front of me. Tears filled my eyes as a knock echoed the silent room.
"Honey?" My dad said softly.
I didn't reply. Why was Heppy and Arey angry with me? Was it because I called them Heppy and Arey?
"Honey," My dad had entered my room, my mom following, his voice filled with concern. "Oh what is it- Oh! Oh god!"
I thought my dad would be disappointed by my dad was actually excited. Apparently so was my mom.
"Don't you see, sweetie," my parent's cried, "you have been blessed by Athena herself." | Daniella stood near the Church podium, her parents gazing pack at her from the pews with anticipation. Today was the day--a day of righteous proclamation. Her hands shook as the minute hand of the clock above her moved ever so slowly. Perhaps a scabbard or a scimitar, or a katana? No that would be too foreign. Her bloodline didn’t reach the Land of the Rising Sun. Maybe a bow and arrow or a pistol? She loved ranged weapons. They offered safety close-hand combat could never afford. Whatever she got, she hoped that it would be worth the time invested; those years in the leaky basement practicing over and over and over again.
The clock struck twelve.
“Now!” her mother yelled. “It's time for you to claim your birthright.”
Daniella clasped her hands. She chanted the words her mother whispered to her when she was a little girl.
Take my soul as recompense
My bones provide the sustenance
Thine blood should fill the chalice cup
And flood the totem of Thermump
I say with words and will unchanged
Summon thy spirit, my weapon unmatched!
As soon as she spoke the final words, the surrounding room fizzled. The surrounding church, her family, maybe even the entire world, broke apart into bubbles that rose to the sky, leaving a greyish atmosphere devoid of life.
From the lifeless void came a voice.
“Are you Daniella Apperchaut, ready to will it?
Daniella’s hands shook, but her soul did not falter.
“I am.”
“Then take it.”
From the darkness emerged a bright light. The light was small at first, before it began to expand, growing larger and larger. In the quickness of a breath, the light had consumed everything around her. It was so blinding that Daniella had to close her eyes.
When she opened them, she was back in that church. She looked at her family, who stared at her with surprise.
“What just…” she was about to say, but then realized that she was holding something in her right palm. A heavy, soft object—strange descriptions for a weapon.
She looked at it, and all excitement she once had vanished. It was a book. A giant, looseleaf book was what she gained from all of this. Her whole life led to the ability to give the strongest of paper cuts.
Her brother held back a laugh. He had been gifted the flame enchanted sword on his fifteenth birthday. Her dad looked concerned. He was rewarded the spear of causality when he was fifteen. Her mother looked disappointed. On her fifteenth birthday, she received the strongest weapon of them all; a power that would put words to shame and reason in its place.
But what did Daniella get? The most promising of them all, who worked harder and longer than all the rest. What was her reward? What did destiny deem her worth? A book. The Fates thought her worthy of a useless pile of paper. How would she ever live this down? | 2021-12-12T09:30:41 | 2021-12-12T07:31:26 | 109 | 43 |
[WP] As a child, every adventurer is assigned a class for their life. You've been assigned to be a White Mage. Dreading a life in the background saving a bunch of idiots that get all the glory, you aim to carve your own path. Tell the tale of the Harmacist. | "White Mage," they said, handing me the whitest white robes I had ever set eyes on. I held the cloth up in the sunbeam effusing throughout the selection hall only for the light to reflect off the covering and blind me. I dropped the robe onto the dirty floor and picked it back up in a hurry, but not before a miserable shade of brown set in.*How am I ever going to keep this thing clean?* I thought to myself. How, indeed.
Through the years, I learned the principles of white magic and found it to be quite a *bore*. "Oh, help,"says the Warrior. "I'm poisoned. I'm bleeding. Heal me so I may slay the hellbeast." *Yeah, well, when are you bloody well not bleeding or poisoned or slaying hellbeasts?* Channel some light, throw a potion, things die, rinse, repeat. "Heal me, I've been knicked by a ghost/bandit/evil sea tortise!" *Yawn.* It wasn't until the Thief joined our party that my eyes were opened to the boon I had been granted.
"What're ingredients in a Greater Healing Potion, again?" the Thief asked.
"Mostly water. A touch of beastheart, a pinch of sanctified bone, salt-"
"*Sanctified bone*, you say?"
"Yeah, none of it's rare."
"Sanctified bone is *incredibly* rare!"
"Haha. C'mon, I have literal pouch loads."
"How on Earth do you have *this much* sanctified bone?!"
"All White Mages are gifted it before leaving selection and I can conjure it if I ever-"
"You can conjure sanctified bone!?"
"Well, it's more *imbuing*, really, but mage texts say-"
"Do you have any idea how much sanctified bone goes for on the black market?"
"I dunno. I never thought about it."
"5,000 gilded a kilo. Easy."
"Bullshit."
"*No* shit. And, that's assuming it's cut with flour or soap flakes or something. Pure? I wouldn't know. Never seen it pure, not until now."
I paused. Something wasn't right here. "This doesn't make any sense."
"All sorts of names for it. *God powder*. *Pure holy*. *Snow dust*."
I had actually heard of Pure Holy, surprisingly.
"Necros love the stuff. I knew a Necro once who simply called it *The Devine*. Claimed it could help see 'the beyond' or whatever Necros are always droning on about. Used to snort it after a long night of hellraising to take the edge off. Last I saw him, he was raising dead pets on the streets just to get a taste. Totally took over his life."
I was surprisingly unperturbed by the story of his friend's supposed addiction spiral, and I suppose in hindsight I should have been. In truth, I still didn't believe him. I gave him a full pouch as a joke and he returned the following day with a few thousand gilded. I was stunned.
And, that's how it started and since then the money just started pouring in. Conjuring the stuff was easy, our system simple: one evening to grind the bones from easy kills, second evening to cast the requisite spells, and the third, Thief sold the stuff to Necros direct, no middleman. Thief was the mirror, I was the smoke. *The Harmacist* they called us. And, word was spreading.
Warrior started to become suspicious after the second week. No surprise, Thief threw down 2,000 gilded for a sword enchanted with an eternal edge without blinking. Even Warrior wasn't too dense for that. Thief claimed that he robbed a barron king, but the jig was up. We were found out.
So, we cut Warrior in, he became the muscle. "What could go wrong?" I hear you ask. What, indeed. | Caelyn stopped by the dungeon door, inside, the crying wizard had his leg locked to the floor by a trap that cut deep into his bone, blood seeped slowly from the wound and the man whimpered in pain, his torch was almost out when he noticed her approaching - "Thank Pelor for your arrival sister, I see you are wearing the white robes of the house of healing, it is my hope that such is the fortune bestowed unto me by our destiny's crossing, for I have fallen prey to this malevolent trap and for some wild and dark power held by this place I cannot bring my powers to work inside this dungeon, nor can I find the way out, but together, I believe we will be able to find our way!", she stared at him in silence, drank from her waterskin and approached the wall where a bulging stone caught her eye, pressed it and heard the wizard relieved sigh as his leg was released from the trapping "You should be more careful when exploring ancient ruins my magic friend, sometimes they can block certain types of power, be thankful though, my magic is holy and is not restrained by this ancient evil" she said as she approached the old wizard, and her hands glowed with a soft, warm blue light, and his wound was sealed within seconds. "Thank you priestess, I am Tom, may I know your name?", the half-elf woman rose, her white hood falling back, revealing a pale golden hair through which slightly pointed ears rose, her blue and golden eyes sparkled "Why it is Caelyn my friend Tom, and you are even luckier, for I have the map to the treasure room, and we may share what is there between ourselves if you would help me to reach it" the wizard's eyes gleamed with greed and he held fast to his staff "I may be unable to use magic, but I am not useless, let's go!". And so they dwelved into the dungeon for hours, Caelyn's magic reinforcing the wizard's attributes and healing him when damaged, until they reached the last room before the treasure room, it was a big and round, and in the center there was a huge upright steel coffin with spikes on its sides, it was known as an Iron Maiden amongst torturers, Caelyn licked her lips and crossed her arms, the floor below the device had holes which would fill up from the blood that dripped from it. The wizard seemed scared, and approached carefully, inspecting it "Seems we have no way forward, as I don't believe any of us would willingly..." suddenly he felt a hard push against his feeble body, like the strength of a bull charging him, he twisted on his feed meanwhile tumbling into the device, seeing a dark shine in the eyes of the priest with a twisted wolfish smile. The wizard was locked inside the device and punctured through his whole body, but just as his conscience was fading, he started healing, and the pain soon came back, and the blood flowed, for he was under a regeneration spell set by Caelyn, and as she left the room, there were only cries of agony from the coffin. | 2018-05-16T12:13:14 | 2018-05-16T10:48:01 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] Some years ago it was discovered that love is a measurable quantity. Many countries have since deemed it mandatory for couples to prove their love prior to marriage. A couple who are together only to qualify for asylum wait to be audited, and desperately try to fall in love. | "Did you know about this?"
He looked straight into my soul as if hoping to detect some sort of lie, but I responded honestly.
"Not really. I'd heard about this new rule, but it wasn't due to be enforced until at least a few more years. They must have done this very recently."
I sighed and weighed my options before speaking again.
"Look, we only have an hour left before being audited. Maybe we should just come clean to them. They might appreciate the honestly and at least not throw us into jail. You still have your work visa for now."
He didn't say anything. His hands kept playing with the straps of his bag, as if anxiously weighing something in his mind. Perhaps I was thinking the same thing, or maybe what I'd suggested was that ridiculous, because I could tell that he was considering an alternative option.
"What if we actually fell in love?"
"Excuse me?", I asked half hoping that I'd misheard.
"No, not for real, silly. Just well enough to fool the machine or judges or whatever."
"Ok, what do you have in mind?"
"Well, you know just usual love stuff:
When I touch your hand, your heart rate should spike up;
The thought of me not seeing you for hours should really bum me out;
Seeing you wear my favorite color should -"
"That's not how love works.", I sighed.
"All that's just fancy crap you feel when just start seeing someone. Over time, those fleeting pangs fade away. Love is something more powerful than momentarily feeling up or down, or getting your heart racing over something so silly"
I turned to face him, unsure if he was even capable of understanding.
"Love is when you stick around despite having nothing in common. It's when the reasons you like them, are the same reasons you don't. It's when you don't mind them being in your personal space day in and day out. It's when you tolerate all their crappy stories and learn about their stupid habits because you feel like their experiences are yours.
Do you really think you can fake that?"
I was afraid I'd said too much. Not because I had feelings for him, but because I had a good feeling I knew what waited for me inside the auditing room; and I didn't want him to know as well.
"I don't know. I don't even know if I'm capable of having such feelings", he said.
"But how does it matter? Do you really think whatever thing measures love in there is gonna look for all that?"
Ah, but alas, there was his folly. You see, I knew the way they managed to quantify love, was not through some scientific formula, or some technological innovation. No, it was through something much more crude and primal. Not only was I sure that our man here was capable of those feelings, but the mechanism that would measure love make sure that those were, in a way, brought to surface.
I was prepared to go through those feelings again, but not for him. When we got up, and they opened the doors and let us through, I saw what was ahead and I was right. They measured love by bringing it back from the dead and making it stare into my eyes. What I saw in it was dying and grotesque, but what it saw in me was his once wife. That's when I knew that I would fail this test. | "Well, what hobbies do you have, Mike?"
"I don't know."
"How can you not know what your hobbies are."
"I don't know, I've never thought of it before."
"Think of a hobby you have and tell me what it is. It's that simple."
"You know the scene in Ghostbusters where Peter Venkman is testing the two students for paranormal abilities?"
"That's not a hobby, Mike."
"How is that not a hobby?"
"Do you even know what a hobby is? Seriously. Explain to me what a hobby is."
"A hobby is a thing. Also known as a cool scene in Ghostbusters."
"This is ridiculous."
"Don't ask me to name a hobby if you're not going to be receptive, Karen."
"You can't have a fucking movie scene as a hobby, you idiot."
"Don't call me an idiot. I know a lot of people who love that scene as a hobby."
"No you don't. That's simply not true because you can't have movie scenes as hobbies."
"Well what hobbies do you have then?"
"I like watching make-up videos on YouTube."
"Fuck off."
"What?"
"How is a scene from Ghostbusters less of a hobby than watching videos of women explaining make-up?"
"Because I have various people I watch on a weekly basis. And make-up is intrinsic."
"Are clowns intrinsic?"
"What does that mean?"
"Clowns wear make-up."
"Clowns have probably watched Ghostbusters, Mike."
"How fucking dare you."
The PA rattled and a voice emitted. *'Ticket 73, please advance to the auditing room.'*
"What number are we?" asked Mike, checking his pocket for the ticket.
"You have the ticket."
"I don't have the fucking .. oh shit we're 73."
"We're screwed."
"Just follow my lead, Karen."
"Follow your lead?"
"Yeah, follow my lead."
"This isn't a fucking waltz, Mike. Do you even have anything planned?"
"Oh, nothing at all. I just didn't know what to say and I'm having one of those internal panic attack things."
"An internal panic attack?"
"It's the kind were everything on the outside looks super fine but on the inside your organs are failing."
"Promise me you won't mention or try to explain internal panic attacks in the auditing room."
"I cannot make that promise."
****
I'll carry this on in to the actual auditing room if anyone fancies it.
In case you don't want to hear more of this story but would like to read even worse passages of prose, visit my subreddit at www.reddit.com/r/billmurraymovies.
I guarantee it will potentially ruin your day.
| 2017-02-21T12:57:07 | 2017-02-21T12:41:35 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] A global arms race gets out of control and every country's only option for survival is walling themselves off with impenetrable defensive technology. Millions of years pass before a catastrophic event brings down all the walls, revealing how humans evolved in isolation. | We only had rumors of what existed before the walls.
Until the walls came down.
The President and his Holy Cabinet ordered an expedition. I was ready, I was trained for fighting, though since the Holy Order had been established, our land was finally under the one true rule of God, though many call him Uncle. His messenger Eagle was our symbol, and we honored him through A Pledge of Allegiance.
It's a ceremonial coming of age we all go through, I pledged my body, a warrior. Finally I would be able to uphold that pledge.
There were a dozen of us on horseback. We crossed into the unknown, I held my breath.
The land was pristine, green and lush, with no sign of large predators.
It was warmer and more humid than the land we came from, and somehow more ALIVE too.
We made camp near the water and lit a fire.
All was fine until I heard a thunk in the wood behind me, an arrow was sticking out of the wood, it's brightly colored feathers impossible to miss.
"Take cover!" I yelled, but it was too late.
We were being ambushed.
Then suddenly there was a bright light.
Everyone began rising from the ground. Held in the grasp of this mysterious light.
A figure descended from the light.
She spoke, "do not be afraid, do not fight" she also seemed to be speaking in some other language at the same time, but I was too mesmerized to focus clearly.
"For too long we have allowed our fellow man to suffer in isolation, keeping our prosperity to ourselves. That is why we have taken down the walls. We would like to preserve organic life, it is our heritage, it is who we were. Once."
And then she approached me and I could make out her more clearly. She wasn't human, she was strangely shiny with eyes that glowed. I could hear a metalic grinding sound as she tilted her head.
"Hello, warrior of Uessah," she turned to one of the men who ambushed us, and spoke in the same strange tongue she had before.
Then in both languages she said, "I am Sorreh of Kay-Nay-Dan. Come, we have much to show you. And so little time before we leave." | The solar flairs came without warning. When the walls started falling, the world fell into mass panic. Nations readied their defenses. Bombs and guns, things the world hadn't seen in years. Instead of war, though, something miraculous happened. Due to the endless years of isolation, humans had....changed. Some nations, like the USA and Europe had technology that had made them godlike. Nations like Russia had made claims saying they had colonized the entire solar system, but nobody knew for sure. Poor nations seemed more divided then ever, countless factions in the ruins of what once was Africa, starvation was very common for the Chinese, oddly enough. When the people of the world finally sat down to have a global meeting, they learned that new languages had emerged. Many were beyond the comprehension of others. Then, when trading started again, technology once thought the realms of science fiction were right at our finger tips. Less fortunate nations quickly adapted to the changes, but it always seemed like they could never keep up. Soon, space exploration started again and it was revealed that Russia had been lying about their space program, for they had only reached as far as Mars. Soon balance was restored to the Earth, and people continued their lives like the walls had never been dropped. (*PLEASE GO EASY ON ME. THIS IS MY FIRST WRITING PROMPT AND IM ON MOBILE.) | 2018-11-18T13:49:22 | 2018-11-18T09:22:18 | 43 | 27 |
[WP]: The most sought woman in the town has announced that she will marry whoever can open her door with the key around her cats neck. Many have tried to catch, trap and hunt down the cat, who always escapes. You are the first to figure out they've all been doing this all wrong. | People rarely consider the consequences of the rules they set. In India, the British government was concerned about the number of cobras, so they offered a bounty for every dead cobra. What they didn't anticipate was that people would breed cobras, then kill them for the bounty.
Once the British figured out the scheme, they cancelled the bounty. The breeders now had a large stock of cobras that were worthless. So they released them.
The consequence? The population of cobras went up.
I'm thinking about this as I sit in my blind. I've been here for hours, barely moving, listening and waiting. I bet Alice never thought anyone would try this.
When she announced her intention, there was a run on the pet store. Single men bought cat food, catnip, laser pointers, and live traps. The only things they caught were possums and raccoons.
But they didn't think things through, and neither did Alice. She set the rules, and in her vanity she just said we needed the key. So here I sit, cold, tired, but alert, with my 22 rifle and scope, looking out over the landscape as the sun begins to lighten the horizon. I've been here for hours, because the best way to hunt is to get there well ahead of your prey.
&#x200B;
It's been four nights, but my patience has been rewarded. A twitch of movement, and I can see Jett, her black fur gleaming, as she steps carefully across the dewy grass.
Moving slowly and quietly, I lean forward and bring my rifle to my shoulder. In the silence, the sound of my clothing's fabric moving sounds like it will alert the cat to my presence. But she doesn't notice.
The bolt is already closed, the safety off. I set my sights on Jett, aiming for the area just behind the shoulder, where the heart and lungs are. Alice, you will be mine, whatever the cost.
Jett is standing sidelong to me, presenting me with a perfect shot. My finger tightens on the trigger. "Squeeze, don't pull" is what my father taught me. "Let the shot come as a surprise to you."
I increase pressure slowly, keeping the crosshairs centered. As long as you can hold your aim, you'll hit when the gun finally fires. I'm glad that the gun will kick. The movement will disrupt my view through the scope, and I won't have to see an innocent cat fall, victim to the ego of its owner.
And Jett looks directly at me. In the silence of the morning, over the sound of my breathing and heartbeat, I hear her ask the inevitable cat question,"Prrrrt?"
I relax the pressure on the trigger. I safe my rifle and set it down. I watch as Jett goes about her morning routine, then leave my blind and return home.
I thought that I could do anything for love. I was wrong.
I would do anything for love. But I won't do that.
(Dedicated to Jett, my foster cat.) | My name is Ren.
Now, there's this woman in my town named Seli. It's short for something, I don't even know. She's...well, everyone's friend. And I mean *everyone.* Even tourists and visitors; if you've come by our little corner of Kansas for more than a day, you've met her. No one knows how. It's a mystery as to how she just *knows* everyone. But that's not my point.
Anyways, one day, Seli, being the woman of questionable sanity she is, taped a little note to her door. Seli is an author, so she adds flair to *everything* she writes. I'll spare you the details; just know that the note stated that anyone who could open her door, with the key around her kitten's neck, would win her hand in marriage. Now, something you should know is that Seli is basically what 95% of people consider to be absolutely *beautiful.* Myself included. So, me being the crafty guy that I am, I set out to win this little challenge. I knocked. She answered.
"I assume you saw the note?" she asked me.
"Mhm," I replied. "Wanted to ask a question, was all."
"Yes?"
I then grabbed the outside door handle, shut the door, and before Seli even had time to react, I opened it again.
"Do I win?"
She was completely lost for words. Defeated, she nodded and looked down.
"I don't actually want to marry you," I said. Now this is where most people say I'm mad when I tell this story; you included, if I had to wager.
"What?"
"Clearly, you didn't *expect* anyone to win, did you?"
"...No, I admittedly didn't, hehe..."
"Well, if I won and declined the prize, it means no one else can claim it, yes?"
"Yeah."
"So then you can take that down and announce someone won."
"Okay...what's the catch?"
"Catch?"
"I'm sayin' that you're trying to play me. What's the catch?"
"None. I just like games."
And with that, I turned around and left. We became fast friends, and eventually started dating. Seven years after that encounter, on the anniversary of that meeting, we married.
So I guess I did win the prize after all. | 2019-05-01T16:58:21 | 2019-05-01T14:47:51 | 85 | 53 |
[WP] In the style of Dr. Seuss explain a major event in human history. | One day, two buildings stood tall
two buildings stood proud and tall, side by side.
two buildings that stood so wonderfully tall, with nowhere to hide
they stood together with pride,with thousands of people inside.
One day two wonderfully tall buildings watched the September sun.
As inside the two buildings was working everyone.
working was everyone inside two buildings that stood so wonderfully tall
not even to entertain the thought that they, someday, might fall.
One day two wonderful buildings were greeted with a boom
greeted with a big boom and a flash
greeted with a big boom and a crash
greeted with a big boom and a smash.
There stood the wonderfully tall buildings,
both sporting fire and smoking gash.
Fire ablaze there stood two buildings with people inside
people inside that tried to hide
people inside that screamed and cried
people inside that hoped,prayed, and cried not to die.
One day and one by one
two building stood tall, so wonderfully tall in the september sun
there they stood being watched by everyone
there they stood and one by one, they fall
at the end of the day
no longer will two wonderful buildings stand tall.
| The rain fell hard as if God himself had spat,
with a pitter and a pat
Noah pulled an idea out of his hat
"A boat! An ark! How about that!
I'll need some, wood, glue and electrically safe mat,
And then I'll bring my friends Mr. and Mrs. Cat, Rat, and Bat."
| 2014-08-09T20:53:32 | 2014-08-09T19:25:57 | 46 | 12 |
[WP] There's a law when you divorce, the children from the undone marriage get killed
So only children from lasting marriages remain. | We sat to talk business, the old man and I.
"You're a young man." he began. "I remember what that was like."
He nudged a glass towards me and smiled.
"I remember when I married my first wife. She was so beautiful. So sweet and innocent. Like an angel. And then the daughter was our first born child. And then another daughter. I knew that if she could only give me daughters she was not the wife for me. So I divorced her.
"My second wife was beautiful too. But she was a devil. I'll give you this advice, young man. Never marry a woman just for beauty. You must find out her character first. A beautiful woman with a bad temper can be one of the worst curses a man can suffer in life. So when our first child was a daughter I had no problem with divorcing her."
"With my third wife I thought I was being smart. She was a widow who had already had one son. At this point I did not care whether she was a virgin. I wanted a son. She was a respectable woman, no beauty, but a good woman from a good family. To tell you the truth I liked her more than any of my other wives. She had a calming influence over me. But she gave birth to a daughter so she had to go."
"So I married my fourth wife. And then I experienced a terrible tragedy. My fourth wife died giving birth to my son. At last I had the son to whom I could pass on my name and legacy. But I had no wife. How painful to go through the raising of a proud son without a woman by my side to share my joy."
"So I married my fifth wife. As you know, she birthed me a daughter. The daughter you seek to marry. So tell me, young man. Do you agree to give me the dowry price I ask or should I divorce another wife?" | My name is David, David Halligan. You might know me from H&H Attorney at law. We typically run late night infomercials on sleezy networks that convince people to get a divorce. I'm the good-looking, charming guy that smiles into the camera and give a little wink, yea...
I'm a divorce chaser. What that means is I convince people to get divorces anyway possible. I got several guys who work as private investigators and let's just say they don't always tell the truth. I cut them in at 25%. Other times I convince people who are a little sick in the head. Maybe they want to see someone die, or maybe they wanted to do it themselves, I don't know. It doesn't matter to me, I'm just a lawyer.
I have a very expensive mahogany desk in my office. It was imported from France. It has notches in it and in each notch represents a kid whose execution was the direct result of my law firm. The last count was 546. I'm very good at my job as you can tell...
| 2014-06-15T05:31:17 | 2014-06-15T03:57:43 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Earth is the uncontacted Amazonian Tribe of the Galaxy, and aliens don't want to contact us because they want to preserve our primitive and unique culture. | "Look....look what they're doing now. It's disgusting."
"What?"
"They're regurgitating their methyl alcohol mixtures at each other."
"That's....that's unpleasant."
"Correct, and according to Teenor's behavioral pattern logs they will fight each other afterwards."
"Why would they fight? Are they trying to establish dominance?"
"No, they've locked themselves into a domicile for constant surveillance; they clearly know they cannot be dominant. I suspect they will fight out of confusion."
"And who's watching them?"
"Approximately three to six million of the other primates."
"For educational purposes?"
"No, recreation. Apparently this is fun for them."
"Fascinating. And which of them is the Big one?
"I don't understand your query."
"You stated that they are related by size. Which one of them is the Big Brother?"
"No, no that's what they have all agreed to call the surveillance feed; 'Big Brother.' Teenor said that it's clever use of their language to imply the dominance of the surveillance system itself."
"Some of them do seem to be smarter than others."
"Oh, yes. There are vast differences even within their own species. I believe that is a large part of their survival. They high rate of reproduction compounded by the variety of traits due to their interbreeding has allowed them the relatively minor success of planetary control."
"And yet they still defecate into bowls, then wash them out into their drinking water."
"Yes. It does seem to be that way. Although the faults of their individual selves are compartmentalized to one lone entity, so is the wisdom and intelligence. They cannot think as one, and their attempt to build a platform to do so is primitive."
"Oh they have a platform? Teenor's notes do not speak of that."
Riadek closed Teenor's post-state archival index and turned around to Nep.
"Is it operational?"
Nep knew little on the topic, except that the primates which referred to themselves as 'Hyu-maan,' constantly referred to this inter-intelligence as the 'Inter-Net."
"It is, but the educational uses are mostly avoided by their population. They mainly use the inter-intelligence to bring up various pictures of other species."
"Well...that could be considered educational...in a way. They are familiarizing themselves with potential prey."
"No, no. They send each other pictures of the youth of the other species for pleasure."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, Riadek. I am. I saw this happen."
"Well...Have you seen it? The pictures. Are they as pleasurable as the Hyu-maan seem to think?"
"No. They are absolutely disgusting. I took restoration procedures for half a local rotation after seeing them."
"Then we have discovered a weapon. Show me this picture. What do they call it?"
"They call it a 'Kit-ten.' and I would highly advise against this. Again, I would very highly advise against this."
"Nep, your kind are beings of the highest order, true, but you do sometimes show moments of weakness. Let me see this picture."
Nep turned away from the screen and projected a picture of the Earth Kit-ten. Riadek violently ran out of the dark room lit only by energized equipment and into the recovery bay. An onlooker in the hall accidentally saw a portion of the 'Kit-ten' and collapsed. Nep turned off the feed and continued work.
"Disgusting humans. Why do the Dolphin choose to live here with them is beyond me."
| To: Ta’al Aar, Shapechangerbot of Qro’o IIb Sentience Institute
From: Wise Mothers’ Ethics Council of Qro’o VI Crater Hive City
We regret to inform you that your request for clandestine infiltration of planet 354b335a.3ab5 III has been denied. Your proposal, while careful in procedure, rigorous in disciplined planning, and thorough assurances of non-intervention, lacks the fundamental ability to gather any new information. The consensus of the scientific community is clear: there is to be no lifting of the blockade of the planet you call ‘Rth / Di Qiu.” Below are a few of the key notes from the objections that emerged in what was one of the most lively debates the Mothers have had in the last 1.2x10^-6 galactic rotations!
1. Still too primitive. Their society still relies on chemical means of energy production. They still don’t see each other as a unified species, and most ridiculously, the still have governments. Also, your claim that they have ‘space travel’ is dubious. They have orbited their planet and gone to their moon. That’s hardly travel. — Dr. Pirian Shoo, DNA-based species specialist
2. They are the last sentient species left in the galaxy that is not aware of the wider galactic community. Their untouched status must be maintained for their own sake. We will have to accept that they are millennia behind for some unknown reason, until they soon figure it out on their own.
— Dr. Shhr Vng, 3rd seat, Wise Mothers’ Ethics Council.
3. Too many unforeseen negative consequences. Last time a primitive species was contacted too early, they collapsed from despair. We cannot repeat that mistake.
— Than Qth, President of the Contact Society
4. It is not clear how they managed to survive with governments and nuclear weapons simultaneously. I don’t suspect they will. Their aggressive, non-cooperative ways need to be contained. Even if a few of their national tribes get out of their solar system, they ought to be kept at bay by any means necessary.
— Vera Wuch, Professor of Philosopy, Qro’o VI Crater City University
As you can see, top specialists have voiced the dominate sentiment. We advise against trying to run the blockade, even to rescue a few of their more brilliant individuals, as some activist science enthusiasts are inclined to do. Perhaps the next cycle will be more amenable to your proposal, but this sitting of the Wise Mothers will not be swayed. We wish you the best of luck on your future endeavors.
Respectfully,
Mar Qoth, 1st seat of the Wise Mothers’ Ethics Council | 2015-06-14T12:22:21 | 2015-06-14T11:11:51 | 34 | 21 |
[WP] A poorly equipped adventurer dared to approach the cave of a red dragon famous for it's riches. However, instead of trying to steal from it, the young man politely asked if it could share some of it's wealth. To his surprise, the dragon said "Sure, go ahead". | My eyes darted up, expecting to see the dragon laughing at me like all the rest. But it just sat there, nodding it's head towards the pile of gold it lay upon.
"Thank you, so so much!"
It bared its teeth in a smile, lying it's great head down with an eye towards me. I shakily stepped forwards, all too aware of its presence as I pulled out a worn bag. As I began piling coins in, I felt the ground rumble again beneath its voice.
"Tell me, why did you risk life and limb for my gold? Most come here in search of glory, and leave in ruin."
I swallowed, picking up a polished coin and looking at my reflection.
"Well, to be honest I was coming here for that at first. You see, I'm a bit of a failure as an adventurer. I'm made fun of practically wherever I go, and no matter how hard I try I just can't seem to do anything right."
The dragon shifted, vibrating a few coins as it spoke again.
"So why did you come for glory? Forgive me for being frank, but if you are that bad surely you knew fighting me would be suicide?"
I nodded once, feeling a lump rise in my throat at the memory.
"I know. Look, I was in a dark place. As far as I was concerned, even when I inevitably failed, I would have gone down swinging. It would have been a heroes death, not that I really deserved one."
As I reached out to pick up some more, a claw entered my field of vision. I jumped backwards, looking up at the dragons face. It seemed... sad.
"What changed your mind?"
I sighed.
"I'm a coward. I couldn't face going through with it. So I thought about asking for gold, and just buying my way into getting well treated. If it worked, great, if it didn't, then almtl least it would be quick."
The dragon suddenly moved. I couldn't react, before it's claws gripped me tight, lifting me into the air. I didn't bother fighting, expecting the dragon to just eat me. But instead of the expected teeth, it held me up, moving me around. I heard it mutter, in a strange language I could not understand.
I was set back down, completely unharmed. It stood up, showing its full size to me. My body went cold, finally seeing just how powerful it was, and how outmatched I was.
"I see now. But you are wrong. Buying your way up will only end in pain for you."
It lowered its head towards me, fire guttering at the back of its throat.
"What you need, is a helping hand. Better equipment. Proper training. You have the body for it, but not the skills. Not yet at least."
"What, what are you saying?!"
It gave a laugh, before it grinned widely, showing its teeth.
"I'm saying, you aren't going anywhere just yet. I'm going to keep you here, and make you into what you can be. If you want to leave, the exit is simple."
It reared up, letting loose a torrent of flame across the roof of the cave. I fell backwards from the wave of heat.
"Defeat me." | Jack was one of those teenagers, hearing about the riches and fame adventurers found all around him. He left his village with only a wooden sword, pathetic like a piece of grass. He realized he wasn't fit for this when he fought a monster, but something shocking happened to Jack that changed his life... forever.
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jack needed to do something drastic. If he kept on being a adventurer, he would eventually die. He decided to go inside one of the most Infamous places ever... The Red Lurker's Cave. The Red Lurker was a dragon known for its riches, and is thought of to be semi-intelligent, and unable to talk. He decided to sneakily steal the dragons riches, since he had not much gear.
&#x200B;
As Jack walked into the cave, he saw the dragon on the middle of the riches, watching the cave. Jack body instantly went limp, a thousand thoughts running to him, telling him things and overflowing his brain.
&#x200B;
"Hey, could I get some riches, my adventurer gig hasn't been going good..." said Jack, before realizing what he said. He was screwed as a juicy bag of meat all because he had to say those words. Becoming an adventurer was the thing he hated right now. He regretted dying this way, after all, there was no way the dragon would just gift him his riches
&#x200B;
"Oh... Nobody ever talked to me... It has been boring having only yellow and white around me, so take as much as you can." said The Red Lurker.
&#x200B;
Jack was confused, the dragon was intelligent! But based on what he learned, dragons never had vocal cords like humans. It was scientifically impossible... unless it knew MAGIC?!?
&#x200B;
"Are you going to stand here or what?" the Red Lurker snared.
&#x200B;
"Thank you!" said Jack and Jack rushed to take what he thought would be valuable. He took artifacts that he studied were missing, and was able to find 8 artifacts. He also found a magic pouch, using it to collect 800,000 gold coins and 3 more artifacts. He also took some magic artifacts, for he felt he needed it.
&#x200B;
He praised the dragon, and left the cave, knowing his true adventure begun... as a powerful magic user. | 2021-10-16T12:06:28 | 2021-10-16T11:22:36 | 59 | 24 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | "Please, mommy, pretty please?"
-"Not now, Anthony. We've just said grace. Can't we enjoy a meal as a family before you start off with your silly ideas?"
Anthony looked down and frowned. He raised his eyebrows and veered to the left at his father with hope in his eyes, silently asking for a second opinion. Mother took her first bite of food and glared at her husband in disapproval as she chewed.
"Well, son. Just one bite. But only if you finish your vegetables!" Father said, chuckling in amusement.
Anthony lit up with excitement and devoured his veggies with haste. He couldn't wait to see her! Mother sighed in defeat but couldn't help but feel pleasure at the sight of her son's pure glee.
"Remember, Anthony. She can't come in the house. I just cleaned the floor"
The little boy nodded aggressively while giggling, which caused the whole table to break into warm laughter.
In the blink of an eye, Anthony finished up his veggies and grabbed the plate. He dashed from the table but immediately darted back, "May I be excused, mommy?"
Mother nodded with her mouth full, but before she could swallow the boy had disappeared.
"Don't let her in!"
The door opened and there she was, so hungry she couldn't even bark. Her chain dragged along the floor until it tensed up. She almost came into the house! She was so excited she couldn't make a sound. She shivered with joy at the sight of the little boy who brought her a treat. The smell of fresh feces and dried urine filled the hallway. Anthony scooped some minced meat with gravy from his plate and fed it to her. He loved how small chunks of food would seep from the pus-crusted ulcers in the folds of her neck and how gravy ran down over her leather collar, down to her sagged naked breasts and all along her wrinkled, craggy skin until it reached her atrophied feet with six-inch long rotten toenails which blended into the puddle of detritus.
"Hi grandma" said Anthony, responding to her wheeze. | It was a beautiful night for urban exploring. This part of the town was intensely silent. The warehouses used to bustle with tobacco, textiles, and workers and businessman. But times had changed, and the businesses had gone overseas. Now they were simply beautiful old shells, filled with old machines and boxes of never used materials. Sometimes Emily and I found the old machinery and tried to guess what it was. We might look it up later to find that it was actually part of an old loom, or a tobacco curing rack. In this building, we noticed a heavy metal door with some kind of wheel that still turned, opening a room that had likely not been opened in years. We both walked inside onto a metal scaffold. We found it to be an old silo of sorts. Our flashlights revealed an old set of stairs curving down around the outside of the room. The smell of old tobacco was musty, but pleasant. We got out our cameras and decided to film it a little bit. I walked cautiously down the old metal stairs to the very bottom. There was some kind of odd hourglass looking contraption. Curious, I tried to look it up by the serial number, but I couldn't get a signal on my phone inside the metal walls. Emily called down to me, "I can't get this door to open."
Edit: Clarity, spelling. | 2017-05-31T08:11:09 | 2017-05-31T07:25:11 | 32 | 20 |
[WP] "Your honor, the evidence is clear and undeniable. While my client may have been a 'mad genius' who sought to 'dominate the city' with his 'army of evil', I present that he did actually not break any laws or statutes in his actions. The defense rests." | The jurors had spent hours deliberating the facts and figures of both the defense and prosecution but had finally come to some kind of agreement when they made their final decision. The foreman glanced at the smug-looking defense attorney as the jury filed back into the courtroom, his client looking very relaxed and confident. The prosecution, on the other hand, armed with a bevy of the cities best lawyers, looked disheveled and tired (they had spent two hours driving to the courthouse in morning rush hour from just ten miles away and were already tense upon arrival).
After a few moments of silence judge looked down the bridge of his nose through thick bifocal spectacles at the jury box.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?"
"We have, your honor."
"And what is the verdict?"
She paused. The whole room waited on the edge of their seats--the gallery, full of homers and locals, knew that the jury would be on *their* side. The defense didn't have a single supporter in the crowd.
"Alight. The defendant will rise for the verdict."
The accused, Oregon head coach Mario Cristobal stood to his feet looking very smart in his black suit, which shirt, and green and gold striped tie.
"We the jury find the defendant *not guilty* of murder in the first degr----"
The courtroom erupted with shouts of anger and outrage at her--their--decision. The prosecution, USC coach Clay Helton and his cronies, held their heads in their hands, distraught.
"Order, ORDER!" the judge shouted, banging his gavel. A few more law enforcement officers filed into the room from the exits as a deterrent. It took a few minutes, and two dissenters escorted from the premises, but the room quieted.
"Not guilty in murder of the first degree. Upon reviewing the evidence, though the USC football team is indeed dead after a 56-24 home defeat and very close to securing a consecutive losing season, we have determined that there was in fact no lose of human life. Furthermore, looking at the larger body of evidence, Oregon has been the superior program over the last decade and has been on an upward trend ever since Chip Kelly's hiring, barring one hiccup. A couple of national championship appearances and a few Rose bowls more than USC has won in that time proves the stability and success of the program. Lastly, the jury did not find that Mr. Cristobal's last name, as presented by the prosecution, to be connected to any kind of witchcraft or dark arts. Therefore we have discussed and come to the conclusion of the defendant's innocence."
/u/cambodiandrywall stood to hug his client and shake his client, a free and innocent man.
"Thank you for the stellar defense," the head coach said, beaming. "I couldn't have done it without you."
"Hey, you did all the hard work, I didn't score 8 consecutive touchdowns on my own though. I won't lie, though, we did have a little bit of inside help."
---
The foreman exited the courtroom, gathered her things and headed for the parking lot. As she passed a trash bin she unzipped her cardigan to reveal a baby blue UCLA polo and tossed the sweater away. Then, as she neared her car she tugged at her neck and pulled her face off to reveal the smirking visage of Chip Kelly. He tossed the mask in his back seat and drove west into the sunset, already preparing his game plan for the last game of the season. | *Not Guilty!*
The courtroom erupted in angry shouts and booming cries for justice!
*BANG! BANG!* "ORDER! I will have order!" The judges gavel slammed down repeatedly as the crowd surged forward, the line of bailiffs trying to restrain them, and succeeding, only just. After several minutes the crowd quieted and the courtroom was silent, as the judge turned to the jury foreman.
"Madam Forewoman, this is an extraordinary case, and I must therefore ask an extraordinary question." The judge paused, collecting his thoughts. "Might I ask why the jury found the defendant Not Guilty?"
"Your Honor," the woman glanced to the defendant, whose wild hair and sunken eyes betrayed no emotion, no relief. "Though the defendant's deeds were clear, we couldn't find a single law or stature that he had broken."
"HE KILLED MY FAMILY!" A voice shouted in the back, as an angry man pushed forward, only to be restrained by the bailiffs.
"Madam Forewoman, you are saying that despite the bodies piled in the streets, you are declaring his innocence?" The judge narrowed his eyes, glancing at the defendant, suspicion in his eyes.
"Yes, Your Honor." Once more the courtroom exploded, and only after it quieted did the judge continue.
"Madam Forewoman, I have to ask. Have you or any member of the jury been coerced in any way?" The judge stared hard at the defendant, who still had yet to smile.
"No, Your Honor." The woman shuddered, but continued on. "We find the defendant to be a heinous individual, whose actions are befitting the worst of humanity. However, the law, as it stands, does not account for his deeds. Mind-Controlling a populace is not listed as a crime, and the prosecution was not able to identify how he did it, or even that it was indeed him. The victims and the perpetrators all claim it was their own decisions, and the State was unable to establish anything beyond the defendant's admitted claims that he wanted to quote 'Take over the world' and that it would be quote, 'Fun.' His actions and words are heinous, but not criminal."
"Very well..." The judge banged his gavel. "Then Dr. Teluride Edward Patrick, I am forced to announce that you are free to go."
"WHAT?!" The crowd surged forward again, as the defendant stood, a smile on his face at last. Looking over the jury, he smiled, his eyes glowing with a mysterious light, before being escorted to the back of the courthouse, away from the angry crowd. | 2019-11-07T10:22:57 | 2019-11-07T09:36:13 | 234 | 10 |
[WP] Area 51 has four level emergencies for a breakout. Level 3: Armed forces intervention. 2: Public statement. United Nations joint resistance. 1: Worldwide evacuation effort. Use of nuclear weapons permitted. And 0: Call the number on the sticky note (and pray to God his demands aren't too high). | Lieutenant Colonel Freeman sighed. The gunfire starting to die down. He knew it wasn't a good type of die down either. It wasn't stopping because they were winning. It was stopping because his men were dying.
The General had already been killed and that put command over this base on him. The General had declared this a level 1 emergency before he had died. But if they broke the surface it would have to escalate more. There was no way they could evacuate even a 10th of the planet in time. No, they would have to detonate the nuke and take out the facility before the surface could be breached.
The Lieutenant Colonel looked over at his remaining staff, Sargent Jackson and Captain Koh, the only ones to stay behind and help keep command while everyone else was fighting to protect the bunker.
"Captain, run over who has escaped again." Asked the Lieutenant Colonel.
"Sir, the Martians escaped and freed the Venutions, who freed the Plutonions, who freed the chubacabra, which chewed through the cage of the big foots, uh feet? Regardless, they in turn broke the aquarium holding the Loch Ness monster, which fried our systems and unlocked the cages for the Giants, unicorns, Michael Jackson, Elvis, and the original Paul McCartney. They are all fighting for the surface and are at the main bulk head."
The Lt. Colonel sighed "shit."
"Sir," this time it was the Sargent's turn to speak, "the President is on the line."
The Lt. Colonel sighed again and looked at his computer screen, "put him through." His skin crawling as the lizard appeared on screen.
"Colonel, I am aware of your situation. It is now a level 0. Handle this now." The President hissed.
The screen went black and it seemed so did all the noise. Slowly the Lt. Colonel shifted his eyes from the black screen to the orange square with just a number scrawled on it. "867-5309"
Slowly he reached for the phone. Dialing the number. His breathing heavy and labored. Listening as the line rang before hearing someone pick up.
"Hello, this is Chuck Norris." |
"Let's just get started already... You know what a Level 0 means. We have to dammit! We're out of options." snarled General Jones.
"Wait!" I shouted. "He's been gone for 3 years. How do we know it's actually him?!?"
"Once you've seen him, heard him, felt his presence, and that hair... You KNOW who it is... now just do it already!"
"But he always seemed so nice. What happened?!?"
"They got to him kid! Now shut up and get to work."
"I've never done it before General. What am I supposed to do?"
The General stomps over to his safe, unlocking it with an fervor not regularly seen on his stoic face.
"Here's the VHS tape. It'll show you everything you need to know..."
As the General sauntered out of the room, I find the ancient looking VCR in the General's quarters. I shove the tape in and terrified to see what I'll find, I push PLAY.
I stare at the TV as the staticky image finally starts to become clear.
"This?!?" I wondered. "This is what would be the only thing in the world that can save us all from his wrath?"
"Sweatin' to the Oldies."
| 2017-03-21T06:56:08 | 2017-03-21T04:28:29 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] Vampire society have been loyal customers to a carpenter for years. He made the best coffins they have slept in for centuries, and never really got suspicious of so many wealthy people willing to pay premium for the same niche item. As he got old, the vampires tries to offer him immortality. | Vezemir stepped out of the carriage. The sun was not fully set, but the sky was overcast enough that he only felt a slight itch as he strode quickly across the street. Glendale Graves was quiet today, but then it usually was. It would be a strange sight to see a coffin-maker busy.
As he approached, Vezemir saw Druig standing at the door, locking up. Vezemir raised a hand to catch his eye. The old man grinned at him, flipping the "Closed" sign on the door back around to "Open."
A small bell dinged as Vezemir pushed to door open. Druig clapped him on the back and ushered him inside.
"I didn't expect to see you again so soon. What do you need?"
Vezemir smiled at the old man. "This is more of a social call, old friend," he said. "I understand you're retiring soon."
Druig's smile fell a few inches as he stepped behind the counter. "Aye, my hands aren't what they used to be." He glanced down at his hands and sighed. "Can barely hold a hammer properly some days." Then he glanced up at Vezemir again. "I'm pretty sure I know what you're here for."
Vezemir raised an eyebrow. "I just want to pay my respects to a great craftsman. My family loves your work, you've done such a great job in the past to... honor our dearly departed."
Druig snorted. "Vez, I know what you are. You only ever show up at night, you almost always overpay, and I'll be honest, some of your family are pretty terrible at hiding it. A few months ago, Morana insisted on 'testing the casket out.'" He shook his head. "She fell asleep in it for almost two hours."
"W-Well, I'll admit we may be a touch eccentric, but-"
Vezemir's stammering was cut off by Druig pointing behind him. Vezemir glanced over his shoulder at the huge window in the front of the shop. The darkness outside caused the glass to reflect the interior. He could see Druig staring smugly back at him, with no sign of himself.
"You're here to offer me immortality." Druig spoke softly. It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact.
Slowly, Vezemir nodded. "Only if you wish for it."
Druig smiled sadly. "Vezemir, I'm tired. I've been doing this for almost fifty years. I've made coffins for the elderly, for soldiers, for children..." he paused, his smile slipping from his face. "For my wife."
Vezemir placed one hand gently on top of Druig's. "You don't have to be, though," he said. "The blood doesn't just prolong your life. It will revitalize you, make you feel like a young man again." He barrelled on, diving into his sales pitch. "You could join our family. We would make sure you never wanted for anything ever again. You could live in luxury for eternity."
Druig frowned, pulling his hand free. "All I want is to rest, and to see Isolde again." he turned away. "You can't give me that."
The silence stretched between the two men, until Vezemir spoke.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I... It's been a long time since I was human. I forget, sometimes, what it's like to be mortal. If there is anything at all that we can do for you, don't hesitate to ask."
Druig glanced back at him. "Thanks, Vez. There is one thing that would be nice."
&#x200B;
*One year later*
The priest had never seen a funeral like this. It was strange enough that the coffin-maker had asked for it to be held at night. But he hadn't expected this kind of turnout. Of course, there was his family. A son and daughter, both with their own children, as well as a few friends.
What confused the priest were the others. A veritable army of men and women had filed into the chapel, all dressed in ornate attire, each one offering their heartfelt condolences to the family. Something about these people unnerved the priest. They felt... wrong somehow. As if they shouldn't be there. For a moment, he considered telling them to leave, but then he saw the family.
Generally, coffin-makers weren't the most social people. Dealing in death so much, it was hard for them to make friends in work. Yet as more and more of these strange people filed into the chapel, and approached the coffin-maker's children, the priest saw something come over them.
Their faces changed from the expected look of a pair of grieving children to something akin to pride. After all, for so many important looking people to value their father so highly, he must have been a great man indeed.
*Well, I suppose it does make sense*, the priest thought. *After all, a man whose life's work was honoring the dearly departed deserves to be honored in kind.* | Derthezar, Lord of the Fifth Transylvanian Order, was besieged with crippling back pain for decades.
He tossed and turned through restless nights, cursing the shoddy craftsmanship of so many lazy mortals. Relief only came one summer evening in 1967, when Revelan the Impaler brought him a surprise birthday gift.
"My lord," Revelan said, bowing with a flourish of his cape. "May this coffin grant you the peace that you so mightily deserve."
Derthezar stepped into the coffin, skeptically yet gingerly, and laid down. The dimensions were perfect. As Revelan closed the lid, there was not a single detectable ray of light bleed. In moments, he was fast asleep.
The next evening, Derthezar demanded that the carpenter be handsomely rewarded with the finest Transylvanian silver. Revelan commissioned custom coffins for the entire Fifth Order. All was well.
The distant partnership subsisted through the twentieth century and into the new millennium. The Fifth Order, well-rested and free from pain, was the most furiously productive vampire legion in Transylvania. That is, until 2018, on the sixteenth morning of May, when Revelan flew into the lord's chambers with some troubling news.
"Bob Donovan, Master Woodworker, of the Metropolis of Alderson, West Virginia, has fallen ill, my lord."
Derthezar snorted. "Ill? How can this be? It's only been -"
"He is only human, sir," Revelan said.
Derthezar sighed. "Indeed. Allow me to offer a proposal." He produced a quill and scroll from behind his throne and began to jot down a message. "Prepare the squire for immediate westward flight."
It took several weeks for a response to appear. Bob respectfully submitted all correspondence via pen and ink, thinking it a mere quirk of his wealthy customers.
*"Dear Derthezar,*
*I deeply appreciate your business and support over the past fifty years. It is true that my hands no longer work as they used to, and my time is drawing to a close.*
*Your kind offer of immortal life is well regarded, but I must decline at this time. It has been an honor to provide you and your family with their final resting places, and I can only hope I have done them justice.*
*Yours sincerely,*
*Bob Donovan*
Derthezar crushed the paper in his fist. "Rejecting eternal life?! I've never been so outraged -"
Revelan interjected, as usual. "My lord, may I kindly suggest that you channel this anger into mindful breathing as we discussed?"
Derthezar took several deep breaths. "Indeed. Right you are. Bob Donovan of Alderson, West Virginia has made his choice, as misguided as it may be. Perhaps we can offer an alternate token of our appreciation."
***
Three weeks later, Bob Donovan awoke to the sound of his doorbell ringing. He slowly stumbled to the front door, shaking and coughing.
"Delivery for Mr. Donovan," the FedEx driver announced. "Gonna need a signature from you, sir."
"All right," Bob said, scribbling his name.
Two deliverymen emerged from the back of the truck, staggering under the weight and shape of a large, awkward crate. They took it directly to Bob's open garage - his workshop.
"What...what is it?" Bob stammered.
"Anybody's guess, pal."
It took Bob a full half-hour to undo the nails on the crate, his hands shaking all the while. He smelled fresh wood - and not just the wood of the crate.
Inside was the most crude, hastily built coffin he had ever seen. Nails stuck out of the wrong places and the edges appeared to have been hacked off with an axe.
Bob let out the loudest, longest laugh he had in months. He glanced at the corner and saw a message burned into the side:
*From Your Friends in the Fifth Transylvanian Order*
***
When Bob passed away five weeks later, he was buried in the coffin by special request. The squire delivered the news to Transylvania and the King of the Vampires bowed his head, solemn and silent.
"Farewell, Bob Donovan," Derthezar thought. "May you sleep as peacefully in the afterlife as we do each day." | 2022-05-31T11:05:33 | 2022-05-31T11:00:02 | 726 | 359 |
[WP] The woman looked at her at her blind date and said, "I told Tammy that I wanted old and rich...not eldritch." | Blind dates are ideal. The sightless don't go insane upon meeting us. We admit there was some confusion among us about the term on our first date. Tammy should have been more clear, or perhaps the onus was on us to clarify. But, it was only a brief encounter. A few months in a pleasure dimension will probably straighten him out.
Tonight's date is better. Tammy promised. They walk in using a stick and ask to be directed to our table. We do not allow the waitstaff's minds to acknowledge our existence, but they bring our date to the correct table anyways. We rise noisily to greet them.
"Hello, you are the one of which Tammy told us. The being known as Julia?" We flex reality in a formal bow. Julia does not react to the sight. This is good. We are pretty sure they are female.
"Yes. And you must be Golbux." She mispronounced our name, but that is forgivable for a being with only one tongue. "It's nice to meet you, Tammy told me so much about you."
"Hopefully the information imparted left a positive impression. Tammy also provided much information about you. It was all very acceptable. Please sit. Appetizers have already been requested. If they are not acceptable, additional requests can be made." We squelch back into our chair.
"Oh, I'll eat anything on a first date, if you're lucky." Julia makes a facial contortion with one of her blind eyes. We do not understand, but desire to be 'cool', so decide to agree.
"Yes, we also consume all things. Our worshippers say that it is our best trait." We worry that that was a weird thing to say. This is perhaps not going well. But Julia laughs and smiles.
"Oh, you're funny. I like that. I can't place your accent, though. Is it German?" She slides a hand across the table towards us. We form a flesh hand to match.
"No." We consumed the mind of a German once. He deserved it. He wanted us to help them in a war. Even we thought he was a bad person. "It is... Austrian."
"You sound like you belong in some giant castle. Tammy said you were old money." Julia's hand grips ours and a connection forms. We sense the depths of her existence.
Her past is tragic.
Her present is the calm of the ocean before a storm.
Her future is endless. She will accept us.
"Money is not important. But we are rich in time."
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\] | "That's not very nice of you, young lady." said the old man sitting on the other end of the table.
"Don't call me 'young lady' you fifty-year old fossil! I'm just ten years younger than you for fuck's sake! And you're not even that rich!"
"And I specifically asked for a nice younger woman, preferably early in her thirties, to keep me company, not some forty-year fucker who doesn't even disguise her intentions!" The man took a deep breath, downing the entire glass of that restaurant's most expensive wine. "Look," he started in a calmer tone. "We both know what we're after when we went into this date and it's clear that you've got no intention to play ball so let's make it quick and clear."
The girl followed suit, though she took two glasses before calming down. "Fine," she said. "And I admit, that's not really nice of me to say. Sorry for that."
"Okay. So... I can pay you for your time tonight if you want, if only so neither of us would have wasted time and effort coming here."
"I don't think I can take you on that offer," she said, glaring at him head to toe.
"That's fair." The man nodded even though he's visibly hurt by the comment. "Let's just finish our dinner, then."
There were no more incident between them afterwards, though the two remained quiet all throughout the meal. They parted ways after, never seeing each other again. The waiter, however, picked up quite the insult for his family next time they meet. As he went back to his shift, he wondered if he should visit Dunwich if he's got the time. | 2022-09-26T08:49:30 | 2022-09-26T07:05:40 | 211 | 18 |
[WP]You are Donald Trump. Having launched your Presidential campaign as a publicity stunt, you never thought you'd get this far, and you're getting more desperate to sabotage your campaign lest you become President, a position you never really wanted in the first place..
= | I must say, I cannot believe how far I've gotten. It all started as a joke, you see, getting into the race. Now I can't leave, no matter how hard I try.
I've made crazy ridiculous statements in attempts to deter my voters. Each statement I make seems to put me higher up in the polls.
"Build a wall..." *applause*
“China..." *applause*
“I have a great relationship with the..." *applause*
"Muslim problem..." *applause*
Why won't they hate me. It's absolutely sickening really. I've been racist towards Mexicans, Asians, African Americans, and Muslims, and people love it. I guess there's one group I haven't targeted:
"You know, white people, white Americans especially, have done some terrible things..." *silence*
Aha, that oughta...
*applause*
Jesus Christ why! I listen to the voices in the crowd:
"Trump's the man! He says what he thinks!"
"You can't help but admire his courage!"
"I'm white and I'm still going to vote for Trump!"
I smile that smug, shit-eating grin but inside I'm crying. There's no escape from this nightmare.
---
In the months that followed, I resorted to physical suicide attempts, but I just. wouldn't. die. The gun kept getting jammed. I vomited out the pills. My body survived the 100 foot drops; doctors hadn't witnessed anything like it before.
And now, here I am with my hand on a Bible. Believe me, I don't want to be here. I've done everything in my power not to be here.
"I, Donald John Trump, do solemnly swear..." *applause*
So help me God. | CUT TO TRUMP. BY NOW HE IS HALFWAY ACROSS THE ROOM.
HIS WHOLE BEING TINGLING WITH ALERTNESS. HE MOVES TO
BLOOM'S DESK AND HOVERS OVER HIM, WAITING EXPECTANTLY FOR
MORE INFORMATION. BUT BLOOM IS LOST IN HIS WORK, UNAWARE
THAT TRUMP IS HANGING ON HIS EVERY WORD.
TRUMP
Yes???
BLOOM LOOKS UP. HE IS STARTLED TO SEE TRUMP'S FACE SO
CLOSE TO HIS OWN.
BLOOM
(at a loss)
Yes, what?
TRUMP
What you were saying. Keep talking.
BLOOM
What was I saying?
TRUMP
You were saying that under the
right circumstances, a candidate
could make more money with a flop
than he could with a hit.
| 2015-12-25T03:34:15 | 2015-12-25T01:33:12 | 580 | 92 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE WALRUS". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful walrus. Look." | At 3AM this morning I got these weird texts from seemingly everyone I know. And everyone I don't know. "Look at this walrus", or just an attachment of an image, presumably of a walrus. That was strange.
But, what really sobered me was the official-looking emergency alert telling people not to look at the walrus, not to open texts, or even a browser. Don't watch TV, don't look at any screens. Maybe I'm crazy, but I actually obeyed all that. I've got work to do.
At 4AM, I was at my work, we have to start early to bake ahead for the morning and lunch rush. It's a massive, twenty-staffed kitchen. I'm only an apprentice cook, so today I'm whoever shows up's bitch.
"You got the sauce started?"
"When is the brioche ready?"
"Get me a box of eggs, mate."
It can be demanding, but I love it.
it was 9AM, doors open. I pre-emptively crack a dozen eggs for fried, pre-crack a shittone for the scrambled egg station, and dropped six poached eggs.
Our first check comes through. We have our orders come through on a digital screen, and well, I never saw it coming. The order looked normal. Eggs Benedict x2, Mushroom Benedict x1, Scrambled Egg x1, side Baked Beans x2. And following that check was an ASCII image of a walrus, of all things. I dropped my spatula.
"I am the eggman. I am the walrus." I said.
"You what, mate?" said the guy on the chargrill.
"You get those funny texts about not looking at the walrus?" I asked.
"Aye. I reckon it's just a government cock-up. Mind that time we got the alerts about not looking at the moon?"
"Oh aye, huh, forgot about that. So why there's a walrus on our screen?"
"That's classic Kyle, mate. He's always doing wacky shit on the POS."
"I don't think I've met Kyle." I said.
"He's alright, bit of a wanker, a bit cuckoo-cachoo. Anyway, how long for that hollandaise?" | Sean groaned and swiped down on his phone screen, adjusting the brightness to something much less blinding. He read the alert on his phone again. *DO NOT LOOK AT THE WALRUS, what a joke* Sean thought to himself. He stumbled off to the bathroom and threw some water on his face, before crawling back into bed. It was then he noticed the hundreds of notifications on his phone.
*I don't even* ***KNOW*** *hundreds of people. Did someone sign my number up for more spam messages?* Rolling his eyes he ignored all of the notifications on his phone and put his headphones back on, navigating over to the YouTube video he was watching. He was watching a video someone made for their Intro to Folklore class years ago; in the early days of YouTube when students would get points for "extra creativity" for uploading their video on the new video platform. This particular video, was about the theory that Paul McCartney had really been killed in a car accident in 1966, and replaced by a lookalike named Billy Shears.
As he watched the video, his face slowly morphed into a wide ear to ear grin. His face stretched so taut that it began to grow painful. As the last of his sanity left him, Sean remembered something crucial that the video explained was a clue from The Beatles; the Walrus was Paul. | 2021-01-11T18:58:23 | 2021-01-11T18:25:32 | 55 | 40 |
[WP] XKCD inspired. Life in the universe is hard to find because of a possible predator. As fish sometimes blend into their sand surroundings we too, and others, blend into the universe as a natural deterrent. As we call out into the stars, we get a response. A warning...
Inspired by this [comic](http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/fish.png):
Edit: Thanks for all the great posts! Very unsettling topic, and you guys nailed it! | The event called "The Burst" lasted for almost a full minute, saturating the Western Hemisphere of the globe with a simple repeating message: "Be quiet. They'll find you". Every person near any radio or television on half the planet heard the same message, most of them panicked.
Weeks of speculation followed, you couldn't tune to anything without hearing the ongoing debate about life outside the solar system and just what the message could mean.
It was a month later that we first spotted the approaching ship, just past Neptune's orbit. It was massive, approximately a quarter of our Moon's mass and closing fast. Military leaders across the globe scrambled to ready themselves for a fight in the mere 2 days it took for the ship to arrive in Earth orbit.
A smaller craft decoupled from some invisible space on the surface of the immense ship and made its way down to field near a small town, far from the reach of artillery protecting the larger cities and power bases.
As the craft settled down to land, a young farmer ran up to meet it, determined to be the first person on Earth to meet an alien
The hull parted like oil on water and out flowed a being that was surely an unholy cross breed of spider and octopus.
The creature skittered with alarming speed to the stupefied farmer and reached out with an taloned proboscis.
"Tag! You're it!" It boomed with a voice of electric gravel, and immediately leapt back into its ship, giggling and flying off just as fast as it had arrived. | For decades we thought it was just galactic background noise. The static on the radio, the fuzz on the TV, the distortion in a satellite signal.
We called him crazy when he gave us that "filter", but it didn't seem to be dangerous, so we ran it on a section of noise.
Do*-.-ome.lo-ki--.....--er-.--.*othing.goo*.....Hid-.be*-re.--ey.find.y--
There was a dial on the side of the device. We turned it, hoping for anything other than what we were hearing.
All of it. It was a cacophony of signals which reduced to noise. All carried similar messages.
All save one.
W-..*--..com--g | 2014-07-09T07:32:25 | 2014-07-09T07:29:31 | 242 | 16 |
[WP] In the near future, phones are designed to physically update themselves to new models thanks to nanotechnology. As a joke, you decide to take apart one of these phones and hook it up to one of the most indestructible phones in existence: the Nokia. | I don’t really know what I expected. Self-repairing nanotechnology and intelligent software meant there hadn’t been customer service or tech support in years.
“What do you mean, broken?”
“I mean broken. My brand-new, state-of-the-art Omega X2 phone does not turn on.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure, I think I can tell a dead cell phone when I see one.”
“But that’s impossible... Have you tried pressing the power button?”
“Of COURSE I’ve tried the bloody power button, you nit! Nothing happens!”
“Well, what’s wrong with it?’
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it, the phone is dead!”
“No, no certainly not. It’s not dead, it’s… configuring.”
“Configuring?
“Yeh, it’s configuring its software and its chipset and stuff. Remarkable phone, the new Omega X2. Wonderful screen brightness.”
“The screen brightness doesn’t enter into it! It’s stone dead!”
“New Omega X2 very state of the art phone, nobody knows how these new phones work anymore- it must be configuring, doing something necessary to its operation, correcting its hardware, updating its software, it’s configurin’ itself, you see.”
“It’s not configuring! It’s passed on! This phone is no more! It has ceased to be! It’s expired and gone to meet its maker! It’s a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! It’s off the twig! It’s kicked the bucket, it’s shuffled off this mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible!! THIS IS AN EX-PHONE!!”
“Alright, sir... OK… so... what were you doing when it stopped working?”
“I connected it to a 1999 Nokia cellular telephone.”
“And then what happened?”
“The Nokia phone lit up, beeped a few times, and stopped.”
“Do you still have the Nokia phone?”
“Yes I do.”
“Have you tried connecting it to the new phone again?”
“Yes. The Nokia powered on, but I couldn’t make it display anything useful. It just displayed the letters ‘QUIET SAFE & CMFY TY.’ Some kind of diagnostic message?” | I was fascinated on the day that Huawei announced their latest nanotech.
Many new models have spawned from this tech: the Huawei P100 plus, Apple XVI.... Too many to list out.
As a lover of technology born in the late 1980s, I wanted to try hooking this tech up to one of the most nostalgic phones. The Nokia 3310.
I remember those days that I played Bounce on this phone. It was hard, but fun. I wonder if they will ever release level 11....
I got the nanotech and started to work on my old phone. It's been decades since I've ever loaded it up. Maybe it'll even go into a time loop and become some time traveler's phone.....
I opened up the cover and jammed in the nanobots.
`IP INITIALIZING... PLEASE WAIT.`
I waited about for the notification. I played some games on my Samsung Galaxy Note 69.
`PROCESS COMPLETE.`
The phone was completed. It looked... The same.
Only two new features were added.
Level 11 of Bounce...
And... Time travel?
Hope you enjoyed this story! I even gave a reference to another writing prompt in here.... Haha... Bye!
u/SethThePro07
Edit: spelling... | 2019-08-22T07:25:38 | 2019-08-22T06:49:42 | 162 | 42 |
[WP] You've cobbled your superpowers together by purchasing antique powers for cheap at the flea market, when others usually shop for powers at retail stores. One day, you come across a forbidden power that's available for only $0.50 | 50 cents. Cheapest power I've ever seen, but looking at it now I know why.
See, in this age of S Class heroes and supervillains with indescribable abilities, and cities that get built and destroyed in mere months, there are still certain things that should not be trifled with.
This was one of them.
"One of a kind," the old man behind the counter stated, voice gruff and face covered in bushy brows and beard, "Used to be a common pick, back when these things was first made, but, got banned before it did any good, y'see." He tapped the belt twice, blue flames licking up either side of the shining silver, the buckle glowing with potential.
I handed him my coin and took the Tool, wrapping it over my shoulder like a band, to conceal it in my jacket. I thanked him, and left the vendor. I took my new Tool home swiftly, thanks to my slightly worn Flash Step boots.
Inside my abode was a collection of Tools, things I'd been picking up for cheap at antique and flea markets, various mundane powers such as Mild Gravity bracers, for floatation, Cooking Prowess, an apron that somehow smelled of burnt pepper, things like that. All still very usable, and all pretty cheap. Even the Flash Step boots I picked up three years ago only cost me $15, and they'll probably last until I can get proper Pegasus Shoes.
But this new Tool was special. I knew it the instant I saw it, it was something I had to have. There are stories of this belt, made of chain and the clasp a black gold raven. They used to call this Tool, Thief of the Night. Originally made for a guild of heroes, mostly police officers and other first responders during the First Age, Thief of the Night was supposed to grant one the powers of stealth and illusion. However, one of the Tool was stolen from under the noses of the heroes, by a usurper, and had been banned from then on. They'd been destroyed, only one Thief of the Night remaining in the tightest lockdown in a secret facility, so they say. But here is one, in my hands. I clasped it around my hips, the chain glowing in the blue flames I'd seen at the booth. I felt the flames through my clothes, licking my skin, and the raven shone, moving from being seated, to spreading its wings. I closed my eyes and concentrated on feeling the power. I could see it in my Mind's Eye, a cloak of stars that wrapped around my shoulders.
In my Mind's Eye, I could see the hearts of the wicked, beating around me like flames, burning through layers of darkness, and if I concentrated, I could see riches I could never even dream to afford as a regular office grunt. The Thief seemed to cling tighter to my hips, and with a stifled yelp I unclasped the Tool. I looked at the bird, a knowing twinkle in its eye, and shelved the Tool, obscured by books and CDs and a collection of stuffed animals. It rested there, with my other forbidden Tool, Reckoning. | "Take a dollar, buy anything you want," says the small, dark-haired boy’s father as he slips Jason a one.
"Thanks dad! You're the best," he says as he runs off with a bright smile.
The little boy wanders around the power flea market, seeing dozens of abilities he's never seen before, that are sadly not in his price range. Luckily for him, that $1 limit will pay him back with a life long of joy.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jason sees a sign in the back of the market, hidden from plain sight that reads, "Cheap Ability Trades." Knowing that he has a price limit, Jason wanders off to the cheap trading booth in hopes for a steal.
As he enters the shop, he notices a boy around his age browsing for powers, but doesn't pay him any attention.
Not looking for anything in particular, Jason swipes his eyes across the deck of abilities, and notices a shiny power card. "Oh my," he screams excitedly, "a forbidden power!"
The other kid in the shop darts to the card Jason found, and rips it out of his hand. "This is mine, I dropped it," the boy said stubbornly.
"No," Jason shouts, "finders keepers!" The store clerk backs Jason up, and allows him to purchase the forbidden power. He exits the shop with a glistening smile, as he did when he received the dollar from his father. Though, following closely behind him, was the pigheaded boy from the trade store.
Jason hears the footsteps trailing behind him, and quickly spins around and asks the boy who he is and what he wants.
"I'm Dylan, and I want to battle."
"Fine."
Let's just say, Dylan never came back to the market after that fight with Jason's new found forbidden power.
END
P.S. - This is literally my first attempt at writing to a prompt like this for fun, or writing fiction ever, so some advice would be appreciated. Be honest if you like it or not please.
Also, I would've wrote the fight seen, but I felt like I was getting repetitive with my writing and didn't want to extend the prompt too far. Maybe I'll finish it for my own enjoyment. | 2020-05-25T23:24:03 | 2020-05-25T20:57:32 | 90 | 24 |
[WP] In space, wars are typically quick. One side attacks and then the other side surrenders. When aliens attack a human city they belive the humans are defeated. They are not prepared for what the humans call "Retribution" | "...And as the victors, the Irik Confederate shall now be taking control of your cities and governments on this colony planet. Your unfit leaders shall..."
I caught snippets of the speech, but I wasn't really listening. Neither were my comrades moving around the crowd, I wager - well, except Francis, I knew that he was probably taking notes. No matter, he'd get the job done regardless.
It had been a weird week. These aliens simply decided to attack. They invaded the airspace over the colony and pulled a true *Blitzkrieg*, they just dispatched their troops right on top of the governmental buildings. Took our leaders as hostages, messed up with comunications and media. After six days, it seems that they thought that was it. They simply walked out and onto the streets like they owned the place. I saw ol' Jeremy, the governor, in shackles behind them with a sour look on his face as the Irik Commander stood proudly in front of the population of Primus A and started giving us his little takeover speech.
There were other Iriks with him and thye all had the same smug, maddening self-satisfied grins on every one of their five mouths. No weapons, I noticed. Six long, lean arms on each and all they were holding were rings, ceremonial banners, flash cards and other things better suited for hanging on a wall as conversation starters than standing in front of a crowd who, I was pleased to notice as I started to climb the stairs to the nearby building, was eyeing the invaders with barely restrained anger. We outnumbered them, too.
It was barely a couple of minutes before I was in position. Directly on top of the commander who was still running all of his mouths with the pleased look of someone who just loves to hear themselves talk. I looked to the other points and sure enough, there were my boys in their own positions, ready to go. I clutched my weapon - a simple lead pipe that I had find. Primus A wasn't an advanced post - it was a habitational colony, and I'd been a flower shop owner until a week ago. Not much experience with guns, nor did I even know how to find one on short notice. But I'd be damned if I was going to just twindle my thumbs while these aliens invaded my home. I pulled up my bandana, covering my nose and mouth and blew my whistle.
The sharp sound was a boulder smashing glass, destroying the concentration and the droning sound of the Irik's speech. The alien looked upwards with three dozen surprised eyes as from the crowd, two of my boys did their part and threw their stink bombs into the comission of aliens. I screamed and jumped from my vantage point, landing with both feet on the commander's chest and sending the alien to the ground.
It was absolute chaos. The Iriks were screaming in confusion and disgust at the odor, and it was everything the crowd needed to get riled up too - the mass of humans shouted in support at our outburst and started to rush towards us to help the fight, while the rest of the Irik Comission scrambled to get into position.
"W-what is the meaning of this madness?! Your leaders have been defeated and replaced, how dare you betray your new governors?! This is already ov--"
The pipe gave out a really nice vibrating sound when it connected to his leftmost mouth, the one who was talking at the time.
"Listen up, you daft bastard. Nobody here is on your side, we're not traitors. We're the resistance!" I said, lifting up my pipe again. I could see the look of confusion and fear take over his many eyes at the word "resistance", as if the alien had never heard of such a term before.
"What is the meaning of that word?"
"It means that we're still going to fight you. Who gives a shit about the government, anyway? This is our home and we don't want you here."
"B-but...But that's not how it is done! It's not proper, the losers shall never fight the victors! We won the war and we demand you cease this madness!"
I lifted my pipe again. I could say a lot of things, I realized. Some sort of deep proclamation of human spirit or defying catchphrase. I had one shot before the crowd hit us and the real battle started. I chose my words carefully and looked the commander of this pompous alien race right in the eye before bringing down my pipe.
"Nah." | Three weeks before the attack, radio astronomers were startled by a swarm of Bacodine notifications. First SWIFT, then FERMI a couple of microseconds later, sent alerts with a merit rating of 100, instructing them to override any instructions and point at a position in the sky in the galactic plane and the plane of our solar system. The neutrino detectors, puzzlingly, went off at the same time as the gamma Ray telescopes.
Messages across every communication medium flew around the globe as astronomers struggled to explain how a gamma ray burst could happen so close to earth, and without a stellar object or black hole nearby. A priority alert was sent to optical telescope operators, and soon nearly every optical telescope on Earth and in space, professional or amateur, was pointing in this direction.
Two weeks passed before this phenomenon gave up more clues to its nature. It had spiraled inward in orbit around the sun and was closer to earth than to Mars. Frequent flashes of light suggested a type of nuclear pulse propulsion, bringing it toward us. Debate raged among the scientific community; should we prepare for an attack or a greeting?
Naturally, the commander of the US Space Force wanted to prepare for an attack. The heads of NASA and the National Science Foundation argued that the nuclear pulses were simply advanced propulsion systems and that we should wait to greet them before becoming hostile.
The decision was made to prepare but wait. What a calamitous decision that turned out to be.
Optical telescopes, even those owned by hobbyists, pointed toward the sources, eventually resolving four distinct objects. In regard to the nuclear detonations accompanying the apparent visitors, the NASA administrator reassured us,v saying "is not a sign of aggression, it's a sign of propulsion." These weren't missiles or impact weapons, they intentionally speed down
Three weeks after the anomalous gamma ray bursts, the anomalous "objects" entered earth orbit and broadcast a signal that we were unable to decipher.
The astronomers were ecstatic when the four spacecraft in orbit deployed reentry vehicles that seemed to be deorbiting in anticipation of landing. We all prepared to greet the visitors, but it quickly became apparent that all of our predictions were wrong.
The alien craft descended on Washington, Paris, Moscow, and Beijing. As people gathered to watch, they likely didn't even have the time to process the blinding light that consumed them.
After the destruction of the cities, the orbiting spacecraft descended and gently landed in the ruins. From the limited information we received from the broadcasts, the world's top linguists had speculated that the unwelcome guests had broadcast a message indicating that our planet was to welcome them.
As red phones rang and were answered, the leaders of the nations attacked came to an agreement. Each would send an ambassador to negotiate the terms of surrender, then return home to present it to their leaders.
The negotiations went well, and each ambassador returned to their leaders with the terms agreed upon. Each nation hosting alien visitors spoke in unison, and our terms were agreed upon.
In the northern US, two men received an unusual set of orders, but followed them without question as they prepared the computers and bared the world's most terrifying pair of stainless steel keys in anticipation of the order to turn them. At the same time, two officers in northern Russia received a similarly unusual and strange set of orders, and drew their milled titanium keys in preparation.
On command, the two men in the US and the two in Russia turned their keys. They were startled by the strange rumbling that they had never heard during any drill.
Those who perished in the alien attack on our cities would be remembered as martyrs. An hour later, in a drastic moment of desperation, so would the survivors. | 2019-12-17T18:31:00 | 2019-12-17T15:08:56 | 42 | 26 |
[WP] You have just found the cure to a virus that is killing millions worldwide, why do you keep it to yourself? | John approached his colleague, and friend, glancing around the sterile room as he did. Most of the other researchers had hit their bunks for their mandatory four hours.
“Stephen, I think I’ve got something…” he said
Looking over his shoulder again, he directed Stephen to the corner of the room, where a microscope sat in a mountain of clutter.
“Look.” he said.
Stephen leaned over and peered into the microscope. His hand trembled as he adjust the eyepiece.
“The virus is receding!” said Stephen, “We’ve done it! What batch is this? We’ve got to get it into production!”
“No, not yet. I’ve destroyed everything that led me to this batch.”
Still hunched over, Stephen turned his head away from the eyepiece.
“What? What the fuck John?”
“It’s still in my head, I can recreated it. Just… just not yet. I only showed you for confirmation. You are the only one I can trust with this.”
Stephen stood upright and looked around the room. His eyes opened wide, he demanded an explanation without saying a word.
“Look, think about it for a second. The world was fucked anyway. Poverty, famine, war, global warming and then whatever shit we would think of next to kill ourselves off.” He glanced around the room again and lowered his voice, “I’m not saying we sit here and let the human race die, I’m saying we wait. Did you know that the black plague actually solved a lot of social problems? They were at crisis point. Overcrowded cities, violence and extreme poverty. We’re way beyond that point. We have the chance right now to save humanity! To tip the odds in our favor, to make rebuilding easier. People will be reeling from this, maybe the human race will finally gain some perspective. Maybe we can achieve world peace! A balanced society.” he said.
“John you can’t do this! Millions of people have died, and millions more will follow. You will be responsible for those deaths”
“Maybe, but maybe I will be responsible for saving mankind!”
He snatched the Petri dish from under the microscope and poured a destructive solution over it.
“It’s done Stephen. I will create another batch, but only when the time is right.”. | Dr. Hill sat back in her chair, feeling her stomach sinking like a stone. "I don't understand, why would it have this effect?" Her fingers knotted themselves together, almost hidden beneath the too-long sleeves of her lab coat. The project leader sat before her, grimacing and chewing his mustache. "It was your job to work out the kinks, so what the hell is the problem?" "I told you the problem!" She struggled to keep her voice from becoming shrill. "I don't know why, but it causes infertility." "So what's the problem, a few people can't have kids?" "You don't understand!" Her tone pitched, bordering on hysterical. "It's not just a few people, it's more than we can afford! Everyone is getting sick, don't you understand? If we release the cure as-is, then that's it. If we survive the disease, then at least there will be people to carry on, but what if as much people take this medicine as need it? There wouldn't be a viable population capable of reproduction!" "But not everyone's sick." "No, not everyone's sick, but it's burning through the world like wildfire- especially in young adults. Our future is dying, but we can't afford to neuter them!" Her chest heaved, and her cheeks flushed. The project leader eyed her speculatively from across the desk, still chewing his mustache. "Are you feeling well, Hill?" | 2014-05-30T02:32:10 | 2014-05-30T02:09:17 | 53 | 19 |
[WP] You are a vegetarian dragon that has lived unbothered for centuries. One day, a human is brought to you as a living sacrifice. | "What is this?"
My head lifted up from the cold, stone floor of my den, my eyes focusing on a group of fur-clad humans. There were dozens of them. I was a bit taken aback. Had I done something to agitate the local city-state? I couldn't recall. It was in the middle of Winter, didn't these humans have SURVIVING to do? This was my sleep time, and having unwanted trespassers in my den was not my idea of an ideal evening in the chill of my home.
"The winter storm will not yield, mighty dragon of the north!" a human with white face fur bellowed out in a gravely voice. I blinked in shock. 'Mighty dragon of the north'? Hm, I could get used to the sound of that. I lifted up my wings, both out of suspicion and to make a display. I was quite a bit larger than these humans, the size of roughly three of their homes. I wished to show them I was not to be trifled with, even if they were 'singing my praises'.
"We dare not intrude upon your domain. We simply wish for you to end this storm. Many in our villages have died due to the unrelenting storm! We have brought gifts to end your unyielding fury!"
Again, I was somewhat taken aback. Gifts? My fury? I held no control over the weather. Still, these were humans, and as we all know, humans are idiots. What they cannot explain must be the result of the Gods, or in my case, irritable white northern dragons who just wanted to sleep. What would they do if I refused their 'gifts'? Would they bring spears and armies to slay me? My eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"What are these gifts?" I asked, my booming voice bringing with it the chill of winter. This storm may have been killing them, but it was my bliss.
A shrill shriek of fear echoed out into my den, causing me to recoil in concern. There, four human males dragged to me a human female, clad in chains and barely enough furs to keep her from freezing to death. I was stunned. I had no love for humans, but I did not wish harm upon them. If so many had died from the cold, why did they not dress this human for it?
"What is this?" I asked, wings raising a bit higher.
"Please! Don't eat me!" the human female screamed. She was so loud! Her voice echoed off of the stone, frozen walls of my den. I could not begrudge her for it. I, too, would have been upset if I was dragged somewhere by a group of angry villagers to some dragon in the middle of a frozen wasteland.
I was quite fortunate my den had a steady supply of moss, despite its frozen conditions. It was a large system of caves. Deeper within the cave system it warmed up significantly. The melting run off of snow and ice plus dark conditions lead to large growths of cave moss and fungus to eat. Thinking of it actually made my stomach churn. I would likely eat a good portion of it once this annoyance left my den.
"Oh great dragon of the north, we bring to you this sacrifice so you may end our torment! Devour her, a virgin gift, and end this st-"
"Allow me to interrupt you." I stated with the utmost annoyance, causing a hush to fall upon the collection of humans. A huff of icy air left my nostrils as I stood tall, towering over the humans. "You mean to tell me that you believe -I- am the cause of this storm... and you believe that I hunger for her flesh and my fury has lead to your woes?"
"It is what the prophets have foretold! You have dwelled in these mountains for centuries! We see you fly every winter! Please, we beg of you, Sylasna, White Dragon of Winter's Wrath, end our suffering."
A growl of annoyance rumbled in my chest. I had neither the desire, nor the patience to explain to these idiots that WHITE dragons feasted on vegetation, fruits, and *maybe* the accidental insect that wandered too close to our primary food source. BLACK dragons ate humans and desired their destruction. My kind? We couldn't be bothered with the apes.
Still... What if I were to refuse this? What if I was to proclaim that they were all, in fact, a large collection of village idiots that let superstition rule over logic? What would they do to me? Even more chilling... what would they do to this poor girl? Would they leave her in the cold to freeze? Humans were bothersome, but I was no monster. I couldn't let her simply *freeze* out there in the snow.
It appeared I would have to become a *proper* thespian.
"Your offer... It *PLEASES* me!" I bellowed out, spreading my wings as far as they would go in this cave. The human girl shook and began to scream as I opened my maw, allowing drool to begin to pour from my maw of teeth. It was repulsive, but I was feeling dramatic.
It worked *perfectly*. There were gasps, shoves, and people edging back towards the mouth of my cave. They *shoved* the human woman forward towards me. I turned my head to look at her, my ice blue eyes going wide as I made it seem that she looked more delicious that freshly melted ice water. I had to try my best not to laugh at these idiotic apes.
"Yesssss... This will do *nicely*." I hissed for further theatrics, causing the human girl's eyes to roll back. She likely fainted. A twinge of guilt ran through my mind. I didn't mean to scare her *that* bad... Okay, maybe I did. The other humans in the mob seemed to inch further and further away from me.
"YOUR STORM WILL END SOON. NOW, BEGONE!" I shouted, letting a gust of icy wind escape my maw. The human villagers swiftly fled, running out into the snowstorm and swiftly away from my cave... Leaving me alone with these one human female.
I sighed, rolling my eyes as I picked up the unconscious ape in my claws and slowly made my way further into the warm cave where the moss and fungus grew. I placed her next to a small stream, bio-luminescent plants giving some light for us both as I moved my maw to the moss, devouring my fill of the wall-covering plant life.
Eventually, after my meal, the human's eyes fluttered open. She gasped, quite shocked she was still alive. She swiftly rose to her feet, backing up into a wall, her chest rising and falling swiftly. I grumbled in annoyance.
"I'm not going to eat you." I stated flatly, laying down after an audible belch. "You're safe, for now, but mind your voice. It echoes." I warned.
"Y-You're not? T-Then why did you say that?!" she exclaimed, eyes wide, not heeding my warning about screaming in the slightest. I grumbled, quite irked. Perhaps I should have made myself sick by eating her. It would have gotten her to shut up.
"You're welcome." I muttered, growling in disdain. "It must have been *absolutely frigid* as you were *dragged* here." I hissed.
The point slowly dawned on the human, an audible 'oooooooh' escaping her lips after a few moments of thought.
"You... You saved me?" she asked, sitting down on a nearby rock. "Why would you do that? You're a dragon, you're supposed to be-"
"Evil?" I asked, looking towards her with a somewhat amused face. "Many humans say that, and I'd be inclined to agree when it comes to my black-scaled cousins. But I am a winter dragon, a white dragon. The corruption of the fourteen Hells does not pollute with my kind. I care about finding food, a mate, and surviving. The affairs of human matters as little to me as the storm that rages outside... Which, by the way, should be over in a few days, weakening by the morrow." I informed, yawning.
"Then... why bother saving me if you don't care about us? Why not let me die?" she asked, looking to me as if a hatchling. My heart warmed at the sight. I had yet to have a clutch of my own... perhaps some long lost maternal instinct took hold of me.
"I suppose, after hundreds of years of living so close to your city-state... I have grown rather attached. Humans are dim and easy to provoke... but I do so enjoy hearing your music and watching your lights at night. The winter does little to harm me, but I do not like unnecessary death." I stated, my eyes closing. "You may stay here and rest until the storm passes. I will help you get home when it does."
"T-Thank you..." the human whispered as sleep began to overcome me. "Y-You... you are no monster. The stories... they were wrong about you. They were all wrong."
I laughed softly, feeling my body grow light as sleep slowly began to pass.
"Remember that... if ever humans decide to come here with spears instead of sacrifices." I chuckled before, finally, slipping into sleep. | Anna was an unusual dragon not in the sense she can turn herself into a human because a lot of dragons can and do but because she is a vegetarian. In other words she doesn't eat meat. It's not that she has some ethical outrage against the killing of humans. In her experience though limited it may be the strangely dressed humans that come to interrupt her on an almost monthly basis are the worst sort, all bluster and with grandiose notions of the superiority. And worse they keep knocking down her signs.
One morning a mere week after the latest round of repairing signs Anna changed herself into her human guise and with a wheelbarrow in toe proceeded to spend part of the day harvesting some of the vegetables that were ready. On her way back she started to see groups of people on the road leading to her cave. Strange she thought this road doesn't usually have these many people traveling on it. Anna continued traveling along the road with a brimmingly full wheelbarrow when she heard the oddest sound.
"I say little lady do you need a hand?"
Anna turned her head towards the voice then up to meet his eyes. He was a foot taller then her human vestige which was pretty tall herself. His muscles strained against the fabric of his clearly one size smaller then he should be wearing shirt. His hair was perfectly cut and in place but gave the appearance of someone who hazardly ran their hand through it. And given the reaction from two of the three women trailing after him a perfect specimen. He gave Anna a practiced smile of gleaming teeth and sculpted dimples with an air of good humor reaching his eyes as if to say yeah you dig me. Anna couldn't help but laugh a little to herself, he was cute and he knew it but somehow he still managed to be charming and not condescending. So Anna lowered the wheelbarrow and said to him "that would ever be so lovely, thank you." Moving to the side Anna watched as he jauntly tried to lift the wheelbarrow back up noting when a little sweat broke out on his forehead. It was after all a wheelbarrow made for a dragon. But to the young man's credit he made a show of not letting the heft bother him. The group moved as one as the continued down the road. The young man was making comments about the wheelbarrow whilst simultaneously asking subtle questions about Anna's availability. The two simpering girls were exclaiming how amazing Charles is and sending evil murderous looks towards Anna. The third girl was sighing to herself a lot. She was as tall as Charles though with fewer muscles. And unlike his calculated slightly messy hair hers was pulled back in a braid that look as it was fighting the very nature of confinement. Anna was sure she would like this girl and tried to catch her eye to no avail.
"So are you excited to see the dragon?" Charles asked
"Dragon?" Anna stumbled only to feel the warm strong female hands of the braided hair girl holding her up. "Thank you." Their eyes met and a sizzle of heat ran up Anna's back. The laughter of Charles broke through to Anna and she returned her attention to him but couldn't help but feel the chill when the braided girl let her go.
"That's my sister always there to catch a damsel in distress."
Anna watched as the two siblings shared an amused look. Deciding it's best not to comment Anna moved to the topic that caused her to stumble. "What did you mean by coming to see the dragon?" She directed the comment to Charles but couldn't resist a peak at his sister.
"The whole village is talking about it. The dragon keeps eating our livestock and killing the men we send to stop it."
Anna interrupts him "the dragon is doing what?"
"Eating our livestock and killing the knights we send." Charles sends Anna a curious glance
"The dragon that lives in the cave just over that hill?" Anna pointed towards the cave that has been her home for the last five years.
"Yes!" Charles said shaking his head in the affirmative "but don't worry I will protect you."
Anna couldn't hide the grimace that crossed her face. "Has the entire town come to kill her?" She asked Charles
"No we've come to offer her a deal." At Anna's questioning look Charles goes on to say "the elders of the village will offer up a human sacrifice once a year in exchange for the dragon leaving our village alone."
"That's barbaric!" Anna practically screams
"We are dying." Said the braided girl
Anna couldn't help but stare at the girl. She looked both equally defiant and resigned to her towns fate.
"What makes you think it's the dragon that's killing your livestock?" Anna asked
It was Charles who answered "they are taking at night at least 5 animals a month only a bit of blood to show that they had been there."
"But that doesn't mean the dragon..."
"Who else would steal a town's livelyhood?" The braided girl cut across Anna's statement "we must protect our people even if.." her voice started to fail her as became visibly upset.
The group continued to move forward silently. When they crested the hill Anna was amazed to see an entire village sitting outside her cave shouting into the interior. Come out and face us you monster, was drowning out those who were calling for cooler heads.
"I am here!" The braided girl walked over to the crowd.
Anna stepped forward "Charles what the hell? You can't possible let your sister do this?"
"It's not my choice." He said sadly
Anna heard the village go quiet as a man standing beside the braided girl shout again into the cave "Dragon! We have come to make a deal. Leave our village alone and every year we will come and build a big fire in your honor and we will throw one of our women on the pyre starting with this one." He roughly grabbed the braided girl and pushed her forward towards the cave. "Let it be known from this moment forward that this day shall always be remembered as Feast Day!" The joyous whoops and yells from all but two of the villagers.
And Anna screamed. The scream turned into a roar as the magic engulfed her. Her body stretched and swelled and the young woman was replaced by scales tough as steel, teeth as sharp as the finest blade and eyes where the very flames of magic flickered in them. Anna allowed the roar to die in her throat and she became deathly quiet. The man who had put his hands on braid stood weak kneed as he watch the very demon of a dragon stalk every closer to him. Anna lowered her head so that she could look this man in the eye "You dare offer me a sacrifice?
"Dragon please we need you to stop taking our animals." He stumbled
"By what right do have to sacrifice her?"
"I am her father as well as the high village elder. Do not worry about her tears she may be not good for much but she will take the flames with honor." He squared his shoulders. Let be said that bravery and stupidity tend to go hand in hand
"And upon my honor I have not attacked your village nor will I accept a sacrifice." Anna vehemently stated.
"But your a dragon! And you killed the men we have sent to put a stop to your depravity." He stated again hotly.
"I have done nothing but defend my home. Most of your men leave here unscathed where they go I cannot say. Perhaps it is them who sneak into your village in the dead of night to steal your livestock. Perhaps you should watch what goes on in your village before you claim that missing animals equals evil dragon. Now leave my home and take your villagers with you." Anna roared again spewing a few bouts of flames to convey her displeasure. Anna watched as the village sprinted down the road pushing and shoving each other to get away from the angry dragon. When all but two humans had gone Anna shranked back down to her human form. And looked up at her road companions. Charles was sporting the biggest most joyous smile while Braid was more reserved but still sporting a smile.
"So your not going to eat us then?" Braid asks then began to blush when Anna gifted her with a heated smile.
"No I am a vegetarian hence the big ass wagon full of vegetables. You guys want to stay for dinner my vegetable casserole is not to be missed." Anna quietly smiled.
It was Charles who answered "Are you kidding were moving in. Our dad lost the right to be our parent when he tried to sacrifice my sister."
"But I..I.I only have two rooms?" Anna stuttered
"No problem Sarah can sleep in your room!" Charles exclaimed as he charged into the cave followed by the two smiling young women.
The End
| 2018-02-22T13:46:50 | 2018-02-22T10:19:51 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] Domino's pizza has offered free pizza for life to anyone who tattoos their logo on their body. Now other food chains are following that idea, but with increasingly absurd requirements, and the poor have turned themselves into walking advertisements just so they can eat with each passing day. | It all started when Dominos offered free pizza for life. All you had to do was get a tattoo of their logo. The size required was two inches by four inches and in a visible location. It was limited to the first 20,000 that submitted proof. This only took 17 minutes to fill. Five hours later when Dominos announced the limit had been reached, more than 400,000 souls were already walking around branded with the red and blue. Occasionally you would see someone with a partial logo. They found out the contest was over mid tattoo and just got up and walked away.
Fifty years ago this would have been absurd. But by 2050 the wealth gap had become so large that the majority of the population lived in poverty. Around 35% of families lived on the brink of starvation, only surviving by the Corporate Food Subsistence Program. The CFSP was formed by a handful of fast-food companies when government food programs like food stamps went bankrupt. Elected government had all but disappeared entirely. The corporations ran everything, and they had to give back just enough to prevent any meaningful uprising. This is how Brian Reynolds came up with the idea for the tattoo program. He was the VP of marketing for Dominos and saw the opportunity to get free advertising space on people they were giving CFSP to anyways. The success of the program earned him a fat bonus and secured his name in the history 'pedias.
But as with any corporate success it was immediately copied and slightly modified by every other company. The first was Starbucks, requiring the green mermaid to be tattooed on the forehead. It wasn’t limited in the number of participants but only provided free black coffee, no sugar or other additives. Such a smashing success that some entrepreneuring tattoo artists even set up at Starbucks locations offering tattoos before you got in line to order.
Then things started to go deeper. McDonalds offered free food to any child whos given name was a menu item, until the age of eighteen. Dubbed the McName, this program was so popular that when you gave birth at a hospital they gave you a copy of the McName Acceptable Names. Schools had to start calling children by assigned numbers because every time a teacher called out something like “BigMac” several would answer. It became standard for these numbers to be placed as a middle name on official identification.
The gas giant Conoco started offering 1 credit every time you started a phone conversation with the “Conoco - Fueling the Future”. This spun into an entire spoken advertising economy. People had apps that popped up showing the highest paying slogan to answer the phone with. Then it evolved into things you could say between every sentence. It wasn’t uncommon to hear a phone conversation that went like:
“Hello, Big O Tires - don’t kill your family with neglect. This is McMuffin 892 Nelson.”
“Sssss Victorias Secret Sale Starts Saturday. Hunny this is mum, don’t forget to pick up dinner tonight.”
“Yeah mom, you always remind me — BUY HARLEY DAVIDSON — sorry for the yell that was a payout I really needed. Love you”
“….you have been charged 50 credits by the Hallmark Corporation for the use of the trademarked phrase ‘love you’. You can get a refund of this credit for agreeing to deliver cards for 3 hours this Saturday. Press one to accept.….”
“Shit”
&#x200B;
Now it is 2106 and only the oldest remember a time before head tattoos and ridiculous corporate names. For the last two generations, this is just the normal state of the world. They will never understand what was lost.
&#x200B;
&#x200B; | When I first saw the news, I was surprised. Would Domino's really do this kind of service?
I looked on their website and sure enough, there was a banner that confirmed my suspicions.
I immediately closed my laptop screen and drove to the local tattoo parlor. Even though I was dirt poor, I was just lucky enough to afford a laptop for school and now, a tattoo for unlimited pizza.
I walked into the parlor and one of the employees greeted me.
"Hello, how are you?" he asked.
"Fine, I guess haha." I replied, "so uh, can I get umm... a Domino's Pizza tattoo, right here?" I pointed to my upper forearm, near my elbow.
The employee looked at me funny for a second, but then realized the promotion the pizza place was holding.
"Oh yeah, sure!" He said.
About half an hour later, I received my very first ink: a pizza place logo. Can't say I'm disappointed, but I always though my first design would be something else. Oh well, free food at least!
I paid and went over to Domino's. I showed them my tattoo, chose my toppings and enjoyed the best warm meal I had within the past month. I can actually eat this every day!
...
It has been six months. So many other restaurants are also running free-food-with-tattoo promotions, and in a vain effort to stop getting ink, I can't. My body is littered with random logos of different companies, such as Arby's, Popeye's, McDonald's. You get the gist.
I have not removed a single tattoo. Every one I got, I keep. Laser tattoo removal is much more expensive than you think, and I can't imagine having to go back to paying for food.
But I have to. Due to the amounts of logos on my body, I can't even hold a job. I am *this* close to losing my home because I can't pay rent, because I don't have a job, because of my tattoos, which I need a job to afford the removal of.
I stared at the revolver on my coffee table. A Smith & Wesson Model 500, which I stole from some sloppy gang. I figured a .500 caliber cartridge would be good enough for a suicide, and only one was needed... especially since I only had one.
I picked up the gun, and decided to play a one-player game of Russian Roulette. You know, for fun.
I spun the cylinder, aimed under my chin, and pulled the trigger. *Click.* Damn, it was empty. I pulled the trigger again. *Click.* Empty again!
"Third time's the charm, I guess." I pulled the trigger.
***BANG!*** | 2018-09-08T14:16:22 | 2018-09-08T13:48:12 | 223 | 35 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | Well, it went almost as expected. No way this magic court would fall for that kind of smartassery, and rapidly decaying body of very old man, who was in his thirties a moment ago, was a proof of that. There have to be a better way.
"Garreth Berch, step forward" - Judge called my name, and my legs obeyed despite my will screaming at me to run away.
Truth was, there was no running any more. My assassination attempt at the king failed miserably, when that little servant girl stole the poisoned chocolate. If only I knew. They caught me shortly after, when I tried to leave the castle. I still could've got away, but then I learned of the girl. I never ment to harm the innocent.
"For the murder of Sevilia Thornvil by poison and the assassination attempt at King Robert III, you are sentenced to death by the means of your own choice." - Judge gave the sign, and the Executioner activated runic circle around me.
"Although I would prefer to not give you an easy death for your disgusting deed, our God is mercyful and his law we follow. Now, tell us, how do you want to die?"
Cold breath of death enveloped me, waiting for my last will to manifest. The glimpses of my life, all the harm I have brought to people, innocent bystanders who got caught in my fight for the greater life. Soldiers who fought for their kingdom, who had families to protect, despite being ruled by a tyrant. Was my war worth it?
Glimpses of the past changed into visions of afterlife, eternal torment for my sins, for all the pain I have brought onto others. I was shaking. I wanted to scream at the void, that I did it for the greater good, that I never wanted to harm anyone. But the vortex of nothingness did not care.
There have to be a way out. Not from death, no, the trap already closed. But from hell.
I inhaled deeply for my last time: "By helping others."
That was my best shot. A hope for the second chance, or at least a redemption of selflessness.
Everything went dark. For a moment I was nothing. Nowhere. It was very cold.
Then, a voice reached to me, pulled me out towards the light:
"Hey, you are finally awake" | I'm waiting to die, everyone here is. I have seen a lot of people trying to fool the court, the last one requesting to die of old age, but all of them fail. At this point everyone has lost their hopes, there is no way of avoiding dead.
It's my turn and I go in front of that horrible people, happy witnesses of the magical demise that awaits me. A voice, one that seems to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, ask me how this magic room shall kill me. The voice says that the room will do exactly what I tell it with the only condition of choosing some way to die.
There is a countdown of one and a half minutes and I just don't know what to do, it seems to be impossible to avoid it. Well, I think, if I must die, I want to see them suffering.
"I request to die slowly while they die from what they would choose in my situation."
Those faces, full of horror while the voice ask them and the doors are shut is the only thing I needed to rest in peace. They try to avoid it, but it's inevitable. I died fast, they all tried to continue living and failed, but at least I could see part of those "high people" that made this happen diying. It's not the best, but it's the best anecdote I have from when I lived. Now, I only must see the concequences of my actions as part of the room punishment, but I'll watch and enjoy every second of it. | 2021-06-24T07:20:03 | 2021-06-24T04:31:51 | 392 | 17 |
[WP] Every time you die, you shift to an alternate universe where you continue to live, having survived the thing that killed you in the previous one. You start realizing what's happening.
I've been reading up on quantum immortality/suicide lately, and having read Max Tegmark's paper on it, I can't get the idea out of my head. Therefore I decided that a very simplified and extremely combed version thereof could be a nice writing prompt. Do as you like.
Edit: here's the link to the paper, I probably should've provided that sooner: http://arxiv.org/pdf/quant-ph/9709032v1.pdf | I should've caught on to the fact sooner, but it wasn't until I was pushed off of a cliff and survived with nothing more than a large scrape on my leg I started to wonder exactly how I was evading death and why everyone I knew had a habit of occasionally not existing. I had multiple weird accidents and situations since birth, things that I shouldn't have survived but somehow did. I got hit by a train as a toddler and escaped with a few broken ribs. After that, I found it odd that no one else seemed to remember that my cousin Natalie existed. I asked about her fairly often until I was convinced that cousin Natalie was just an imaginary friend. When my mother crashed the car with eight-year-old me in the back seat and it rolled into a tree, some of the glass from the windshield embedded itself in my chest. I pulled it out as if it was nothing, unaware that the glass had gone through my heart. The next day, I had a brother who I had no prior memories of. His name was Peter. The next year, Peter and I went to the park where a man pulled a gun from his pocket and started shooting. I remember a bullet entering my back and coming out through my stomach. It went through Peter after that, and it killed him. No one could ever figure out why he died and I lived, but it didn't concern my parents because they were worried about my dying sister Madeline who had, if I remembered properly, never existed until that moment. Every time I should have died, I didn't, and the moment afterwards, another person was either added to my life with no explanation or disappeared and supposedly never existed at all. It wasn't until Rachel Harden threw me off of a cliff for kissing her sort of boyfriend and when I woke up with thirty stitches in my leg and the non-boyfriend no longer existed that I realized something weird was happening.
After that, I wrote down the name of every person I knew. I kept the names in a notebook that I hid under my bed, and then started chasing after death. I drowned in a pool, I got in a plane crash, I had a terrible reaction to pineapples, I contracted food poisoning, I played Russian Roulette and lost, and I fell out of a fifth story window. I got in the middle of a gang war, I came down with Ebola, I punctured a lung, I slept outside in the freezing cold in nothing but a bikini, I crammed three times the deadly dose of cocaine into my veins, and I ate more pineapples. And true to my theory, every time I woke up, I had a new brother or sister or step parent or it turned out that my best friend's brother or my uncle's girlfriend or my mother or my neighbor never existed at all.
Once I knew I was right, I did nothing to change my routine. I stayed in one universe until that one got boring and then I would do something crazy. There were no companions for me, no person that I hadn't been able to turn out of existence with a poorly timed "accident." It was lonely, and after a while, it got boring. I must've lived a thousand lives by now, and every one has begun to look so similar that I've barely noticed the difference between them. | The memories seep into my head, experiences as bright as if I lived through them just yesterday. In other worlds I tried to ignore them, block them. In some worlds I went insane. But in my world, with its quantum psychologists and a better understanding of the brain inner mechanics, I know.
"We have never seen this before, but it is theoretically possible." said Dr. Holland. "We know that quantum vibrations in brain microtubules are an essential part of brain function. In your case, it seems that mind is directly entangled with the minds of all other versions of you. When your version dies, another one takes on its memories."
I wonder.
Why does it have to be death to trigger the memory share?
I reach out. I imagine my mind as a galaxy, a field of stars in the darkness, and I try to connect those bright dots. I try various drugs. I reach out. And one evening, after a pill known only as Q, I reach out again and the space of the mind-galaxy crumbles. My mind feels with images, sounds, experiences of billions of me, the multiverse of me.
The hollow Earth. The Earth of thousands years of peace. The Earth were quantum-connected ant mind had achieved total superiority, and humans aren't allowed complex technology. The Earth of obelisks full with uploaded minds. The space ship "Earth", speeding away from a burned planet.
A normal mind can't take it all. But a distributed mind, a multiverse mind can. I connect to others and the network grows. As a majority, we excise corner-cases, we flood into me-the-serial-killer before I was going to strike and stop my hand. We flood into me-the-dictator and heal that broken mind. We grow. I grow.
And then it's time for the real work. Helping the worlds that can sill be helped. Vaccines shared with the worlds of plagues. Spaceship designs shared with the freezing worlds, with the heating worlds. Meme-systems of revolutionary ethics seeded into war-ravaged Earths. An ambassador sent to the ant-hill, first one ready to understand their quantum mind.
In some worlds, they burn me as a witch. In others I'm executed for treason. Devoured. Sacrificed to underlords. Deleted from memory. Frozen. Died of an old age.
But that doesn't matter.
My life is never truly lost. | 2015-06-26T15:32:42 | 2015-06-26T14:07:38 | 633 | 312 |
[WP] Everyone's flaws are listed in a translucent white box above their heads. One day, you meet a man whose 'box' is empty. | * Lack of self-esteem
* socially awkward
* suicidal
* depressed
* drug addict
Yeah. That's my life. Everybody can see it. Those stupid boxes have destroyed my life even more. Those stupid fucking boxes made everything worse from the first day on. But now I'm here. Im not able to withstand this horror anymore. I can't socialize, I've become an reject of todays society.
There's no point in covering up my flaws anymore when everybody knows them. „Fake it, until you make it“ my ass.
I'm looking into the abyss right in front of me. I'm ready to jump. I've went through this time and time agai. I decided to jump from this bridge because it was the highest i could find within 3 miles. I felt every breath in a way I've never experienced it before. It felt different. But...But...I HAD to do it now. There was no point in going on with this life.
Then I saw something. Something I didn't even know existed. But there she was. A beautiful girl.
I've seen many beatiful girls before, but something was different. She had nothing written in her box. How was that even possible? Can someone be this perfect?
Then she looked at me. I could see the fear in her eyes. The fear that I would jump down here right in front of her eyes. There was something different in her eyes. I couldn't quite tell what it was. Was it anger? No. I just couldn't tell.
„WHAT ARE YOU DOING?STOP IT!“ She screamed from the top of her lungs. I was confused. Why was she talking to me? She could see everything about me. No one cared about me, ever since those boxes came into our lives.
„What is WRONG with you?“, she looked confused now.
„Get away from here. Let me enjoy my last moments of life alone at least.“
„Why would you do this?"
Now I was confused. Why was she trying to get me off the bridge? To live her life on, without having to have nightmares about my jump? Or could it really be that...? No. There was no way someone cared about me. But then I looked into her eyes again. They were filled with tears. There was no anger and no sign of hate in it. She just wanted me to be alive. I knew it and she knew it.
She ran to me and touched my shoulder from behind. I turned around and started crying. All my plans were gone now. I wanted to live. I wanted to live with HER.
She was crying and shaking. All I could do was watching her. What was happening here? Why would this perfect person come to ME? She could have everyone, she could live a happy life, she could have EVERYTHING she wanted. But there she was. Holding my shoulder, stopping me from taking my worthless life.
With tears in her eyes she looked at me and then said.
„W-Why would you kill yourself? There's nothing written in your box. Y-You are....Perfect?“ | "Get out !" the sales manager shouted.
As I walked out of the office with my resume and the usual feeling of disappointment. It feels like that i was blessed with longest list over my head. I have been cursing god for it since my childhood.
Walking of the corner street i thought of buying flowers for my hopeful girlfriend Sharmi waiting for me to come with a yes this time. Over her head it was written:
- Can't cook
- Failed in Arts degree
- there is hole in the beating box inside
I wonder if she really expects me to come with a yes this time. I picked the flowers and was just on the public hallway when an old man slammed on my shoulders. My flowers dropped...
"I am so sorry" he picks the flowers, stack them up & gave it to me.
'I'm sorry its my age." he said humbly.
"Its Ok thank you so much", I replied and we turned around.
At that moment i realized that and the old man has a completely spotless box. I turn around back to him in more shock than surprise. There was nobody but just a pigeon a spotless white pigeon may be the most white thing i ever saw in my life. I was baffled for a while and then moved towards it. I hold it on my hands and just kept staring at him like i'm seeing a ghost and just in that moment he flew away. I tried gained control over my senses.
"was it just my imagination?? or was it a ghost but how can a ghost have a spotless box?" with thoughts like these playing on my head I reached home.
Sharmi open the door and her eyes looked beautiful as ever but soon they were expanded as she shouted.
"AAHHHHHH!"
"Ph...phill ....phill"
'What happened ?" I asked her with a worried voice.
"Your Box" she said in a surprised voice.
I got in the changing room put the light on and stand against the mirror.
My box has nothing written on it it was as spotless as the Pigeon's fur...
Edit : if there is any Grammatical error or capitalization error then do point out for me please :)
| 2014-10-27T05:53:09 | 2014-10-27T04:41:34 | 82 | 13 |
[WP] You are the child of a superhero and a supervillain conceived during a one night stand. You don't care for heroism or villainy, you just want your parents to get together so that you can have a family. | Part I:
"Mom!" I detested, "I don't want to go to villain school next year!"
"Honey, if you don't go to villain school..." she paused, letting a sigh of defeat pass, "You'll turn out like your father," she whispered. She always got quiet when she talked about dad.
"I don't care! I don't want to be a villain, and I don't want to be a hero either. I don't want to be like you or dad! I don't want to be on call 24/7 or always scheming my next plot! I just want a normal life with a normal family."
"Fine." Mom was clearly red at the cheeks and her gaze was lowered and fixed.
I stomped my way up the spiral staircase back up to my room. All I wanted was a normal life, is that too much to ask for? I didn't want to go to villain school like mom wanted me to, and definitely didn't want my hero certification like dad told me to get: out of the six times I had seen him in my life. The first time I ever met him was in at Michael's Deli. Mom took me to rob their reserves, and right as we were pulling away, a black sports car T-boned Mom's van. She got out to yell, and dad got out to yell even louder. But when she realized who it was she quieted down.
"Is that my son in your van?" he roared. The seat shook.
"Flynn, maybe if you hadn't ditched me that morning you might have met him before this!"
That was the first time I had met dad.
Sitting in my room, I thought about the six interactions I had with my father. Each time, Mom and Dad fought in one way or another. But no one ever won. They were equally as strong. But opposite.
Then it hit me. Vectors. Simple vector addition would give me the normal life I so longed for...
Immediately I sprung to my whiteboard, listing out every bit of information I knew about them. Evening turned to night, night turned to morning, and by breakfast that next morning I had my scheme ready to go.
"Good morning sweetheart," Mom said as she reached for her mug.
"Hi Mom," I said plainly. I turned away, hiding my smug grin.
TO BE CONTINUED.....
&#x200B; | The fresh steel pressed against my forehead as I watched the battle continue, the earth shook as my father, a hero, created mountains beneath his feet and just as fast my mother, a villain, raced up that mountain to attack him.
Mortal enemies. That's what they were and always would be and I? I'm a mistake, the love child of them through a one night stand. You'd imagine that I may inherit incredible speed and strength like my mother, or the ability to manipulate the very elements like my father. And I did, making me easily one of the strongest heroes or villians, but in the end, it all meant nothing, cause both my parents loathed each other with a passion and neither truly loved me, only wanted me as a tool to continue their agenda.
So, in the end, a thought came to me, "was I better of dead?" And so that brings me here. With the smell of a cool winter midnight in my nose as a small breeze filled the air. Children danced as their parents watched dotingly front the sidelines and I just sat at the highest peak of the city by myself with no parent's love. I felt the cold steel pressed against my head as warm tears gushed down my face, my finger on the trigger and then I pulled.
The sound was deafening, the sound of the bullet piercing my head but the feeling was just of numbness and maybe a little joy that I had done something with my life. Maybe my parents would stop fighting, only for a moment, to just mourn. Maybe things would be different... | 2018-10-17T06:31:00 | 2018-10-16T23:33:01 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] "You... Do know I'm about to kill you, right?" A serial killer's latest victim doesn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation.
Edit: Everyone's takes on this situation are so different and awesome. | # Connection
I smiled at him. And then I winked.
“You know I’m about kill you, right?” he said slowly, trying to seem menacing.
“Cool. How about strangulation? It’s pretty visceral for you feeling the life go out of my body, and it’ll be a new and final experience for me. Win–Win”, I replied.
He looked at me, puzzled.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun! When my hyoid bone snaps, you’ll know you’re doing it right!”
He continued to stare.
“Strangle! Strangle! Strangle!”, I chanted like I was running my own pep rally.
“I’m more of a cutter”, he said. “Actually, I’ve been taking out people’s organs and mincing them and putting them back in. There’s a symbolism to it.”
“Been eating any of the organ meat?”, I asked, showing exited curiosity.
“No” he said.
“Feeding it to the victims?”
“No”
“What about making the victims do their own surgery?”
“No”
“Wow, you’re really tame aren’t you.”
“I’ve been in the newspapers. They call me The Organ Grinder.”
“That makes me think of a guy with a monkey. Geez, surely you can do better than that. Let’s get creative, kinda make it an art project.”
“You know I’m about kill you, right?” he said again.
“Yeah, whatever, now, later, it’s a world of suffering however you look at it. Less time in this shit hole seems like a win to me.” I replied.
He looked at the ground. It wasn’t going anything like the way he was expecting, I could tell that.
“How about you make me kill someone else?”
He shook his head.
“Oh *come on*”, I said. “You never going to be remembered at this rate. Your capture technique is sloppy, your calling cards aren’t memorable, and you’re not really doing it on the whole ‘terrorize your victims’ front—you’re just going for short-lived physical pain and calling it a day. You need to think bigger.”
An hour later, we were still talking. We had a plan.
“Want some food?”, I asked, “I make a mean breakfast”.
“I need to keep you tied up”
“Said the priest to the choirboy!”, I laughed. “Suit yourself, but you’re missing out and it’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
He was wary of course, when he untied me. But as I made breakfast and chatted cheerily, he began to relax. After breakfast, I cleared away the dishes.
“You should tie me up again”, I said.
“Doesn’t seem like a lot of point, if you’re into it.”
“Oh come on, I’m the victim! I could be trying to fight back?”
“Doesn’t seem likely at his point”, he replied.
“Oh I totally could. Look, uh, how about this knife, it’s not very sharp, but it might work.”
I tottered around holding the knife, pantomiming idiocy.
He laughed at my foolishness.
“Look at you!“ I said, smiling. “You have a really cute smile. It’s good to see you happy.”
I stepped forward, tilting my head.
He should never have let me get so close holding a kitchen knife. He should never have believed me. He looked so surprised, so hurt and betrayed.
I kept smiling.
“There there, love”, I said, “It’s all right now. I’ll hold you. It’ll be over soon.”
| So there that fucking guy was. I thought I was going insane. He's been sitting in that chair now asking me what it is that I want from him for a while. Calm as a bird. He tells me, almost with a smirk, that we can figure this out and that I shouldn't be nervous, he'd get me what I wanted, whatever it was. I ignored him for a while before I looked him in the eyes and told him and told him what I told everyone.
"I don't need or want anything from you."
I love this moment, playing with their mind. Seeing the eyes so blank. The realization that this is it. The death of all hope. But this fucking dude, this mad man did fucking nothing. He sat there, like he was just peculiar of what I said, not scared.
"Come, on," he told me, almost smiling, totally relaxed. "Dude, there has to be something? Money? I got money."
I wanted him to feel fear, to be afraid of me. To be scared, terrified of the monster I had become. The monster even I have nightmares about whenever I get to sleep. The monster I fear more than anybody in the world. I got out my gun, my old revolver, the biggest fucker I could buy. I put it on my lap and repeated.
"There is nothing that I could ever need from you, you have nothing to give me. Nothing to keep this from happening. You... Do know I'm about to kill you, right?"
Now, here we go. This is it. The moment of terror right before the end.
"Come on, man, anybody can be bought, I got more cash then you ever saw. More money then some countries."
This guy is a monster, I realised with fear, he sold his soul long ago. This guy thought he had the world in his pocket with all his cash and there was no way to make him think not everything is for sale. A life has no price for me, but this guy is the first that will never realise that all the money or connections in the world have no meaning. This guy can't realise that he's as feeble and fragile as us all. As useless and small. There was no fun in this for me. No victory. No pride. This monster I had been feeding could not be fed anymore.
After this guy I couldn't go back. This high profile powerful man. I can't just leave this building anymore. I knew I wasn't going to make it out. I knew it would be my last. But now it feels like it has all been for nothing. If I can't save this man the world is lost. I regret everything.
I cocked the gun once and shot. I cocked it once more turned it around and with tears in my eyes I shot again. | 2015-04-29T09:50:37 | 2015-04-29T08:21:14 | 72 | 38 |
[WP] You've just been returned to your world after having been abducted and forced to save another world from destruction. It took you 100 years to save that world and yet you were returned to the exact place and time that you were abducted from in the first place. | They told me what to expect. On the troop transport back to Earth, the chancellor made it clear that it would take some time to adjust but I didn’t understand how truly of an understatement that was.
Tonight was my first night back in my bed, tucked in the corner of my 500 sq. ft. studio apartment, and I woke up screaming in the middle of the night to sweat soaked sheets. The kerplunk of the gravity grenades sounded so damn real. Now, I sit huddled in the corner of the room clutching to the last vestiges of my sanity gripping his dog tags.
Harvin. It’s funny how quickly a bond forms when faced with the extermination of an entire species. I think it was only a few months but when staring down the barrel of plasma rifle, those seconds stretch into eons and the bonds forge stronger than palinium steel.
The dog tags dig into my hand. My blood slides smoothly down its surface and cascades to the floor. It mixes with on the laminate surface with my tears.
The Chancellor told me I couldn’t act any different. He told me that I had to reassimilate into the society they plucked me from. He said it wasn’t for their protection, but rather for my own.
“It’s happened before,” he said, fatherly, with his hand on my shoulder, “the previous Paragon struggled endlessly to reconcile what happened with his previous life.” The Chancellor shook his head sadly. “It did not go well for him.”
“How?” my voice croaks into the cold night air. “How am I supposed to forget what I’ve seen? Who I’m missing? What I was?” I bang my head back against the wall hoping it to shake some answer loose.
The pleading buzz of my alarm clock cuts through the silence. The tears pour forth once again. The bank would be expecting me in one hour. I was...I am a bank teller of all thing.
I just don’t know how this is going to work. | Adam blinked.
The throng of bankers poured into the subway, brushing aside the dozen or so people who pushed their way out.
Adam blinked again.
The 4 train pushed off away from the station, moving the Wall Street workers uptown. Through the fogged windows, Adam could see the suits all buried in their phones. A stray newspaper blew across the tracks.
Adam turned up to the ceiling. He ran his hand over the left side of his face. His skin was unmarked, again—or, he supposed, it never was marked in the first place.
The 100 years, the war, the destruction… it was if it never happened.
“Adam? Everything alright?”
Adam blinked again.
A familiar dark-haired woman stared at him in earnest, a look of deep concern sketched into her skin. They’d worked together, Adam thought.
“Yeah,” he said, his throat raw. He pulled on his scarf, flattening it back into place. “I’m fine.”
Everything that happened didn’t matter anymore. He was back. Home. “Everything is fine,” he said. | 2019-06-20T13:28:03 | 2019-06-20T10:41:11 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] you spouse jokingly says and asks for a codeword/response every time he/she goes to work in the morning. Through the years you just go with it thinking it's a harmless fun. Today your spouse comes back from work not knowing the correct codeword. | ***This is my first time responding... be gentle...***
My wife made up crap all the time. She was quirky, imaginative, and just all around goofy; but that was part of what made me love her. There was one habit she had that annoyed the ever-loving crap out of me. First thing in the morning, she'd give me a code-phrase with a response. The rules were, when we got home from work, I'd say the code-phrase for the day, and she'd respond. The phrase always made sense, in a way, but the response was always nonsensical and frankly, ridiculous. Years of this went by and it just became normal. I never thought anything of it.
Starting in April though, she became increasingly serious. Some of the whimsy died down, then all of it. The really odd thing was that she made the code/response increasingly more elaborate and almost hinted that it wasn't a game, even though the responses remained silly. I knew something was wrong, but she wouldn't tell me. She just skirted my questions.
That June, I was met with a situation that I had never encountered before. I had no idea what to do.
I went through our routine. Per the norm, first thing out of my mouth was the code for the day, "See anything interesting on your way home?"
All I got was a quizzical look and a stark, "No."
I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. She was supposed to tell me she saw an elephant with an umbrella reading last week's paper.
I just stood there for what felt like an eternity. But then I guess instinct guided me because I heard myself say, "Oh. Okay." I turned and walked upstairs. "I have to pee."
"Need a hand?" Came a response.
What the hell? Serious for months and now back to normal? Like nothing happened? The sudden change plus the incorrect response had my head spinning. What the hell was going on?
Multiple scenarios ran through my head. Nothing made sense. All of them had one plausible conclusion. That... woman... downstairs. She wasn't my wife.
I made up my mind. I went to my closet and fumbled around for a second before my hand found it. My .45. I needed answers.
When I got back downstairs, she had her back to me. "Ash." She turned and looked at me, smiling. The smile faded when her eyes drifted down to the gun at my side. Holy. Shit. She looked and moved exactly like my Ashley, but something was off. I couldn't put my finger on it.
"Mark? Why do you have your gun? What's going on?"
"Where the fuck is my wife? WHAT DID YOU DO WITH ASHLEY?!" I hadn't meant to yell, but it came out as a roar as I realized my wife was in danger.
The gun leveled at her all by itself.
The not-Ash sat down and looked at me with tears in her eyes. "It's me baby, it's me."
"Bullshit. Where is Ashley? I won't ask again."
A tear rolled down her face. "Mark. Please."
The gun bucked in my hand. Crimson splashed across the floor and table. Not-Ash screamed.
I had aimed for her leg. I couldn't kill her. I needed answers. I waited while she screamed in pain and anger. When she slowed down, I asked again. "Where is my wife?"
Not-Ash looked up at me with tear soaked eyes. But there was rage there. "I'll never tell you. She's gone."
***I'll write more if it's requested.***
Edit: on to in. Had to head | Every time Liz left for work, she always asked for a password. The first time she asked, John laughed. Seeing the determined look in her eyes, he realized she wouldn't leave without one. He gave in, gave her the word buffalo. That evening, she came back, saying buffalo before coming in.
John found it amusing. His wife had always been a little off, ever since they met. But he loved her and was willing to keep her idiosyncrasies in check by doing these little things. Besides, she worked so that he didn't have to. He definitely didn't want to give that up by irritating her.
That morning, he gave her the word lawnmower. All seemed normal, she walked out the door, and John sat back and relaxed. After a typical day watching Netflix and running errands, he heard the door open. There were three things he immediately noticed. The first was that his wife was acting a little different, as if she'd never been in their house before. The second was that she referred to him by both his first and last names when she greeted him, like someone who had never met him before. The third, and by far the most important, was that she didn't use the password he had given her that morning.
Her forgetting that password immediately told John all that he needed to know: the woman that looked like his wife was not his wife. Even though she looked the same, she was not the same. John acted calmly, asking her, "How was work, honey?"
She didn't reply, rushing into her home office and locking the door behind her. Once he was sure she wasn't coming out anytime soon, called 911.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"My wife, she's different! Something's happened to her! I need someone here right away!"
"Calm down, sir, what is your address?"
"8132 Pine Lane."
"All right, an officer will check on you shortly," said the dispatcher. As both hung up the phone, she quickly called the number written on a paper next to her, underneath John's address.
A few minutes later, John heard the sirens outside. He walked out, only to feel a sharp pain to the head and saw nothing but darkness.
*****
"Sir, Agent 1926 had to be reprogrammed this morning. Her personal life was starting to interfere with her work. She has been fully reconfigured and is ready to be put back into circulation."
"Did you take care of that personal business?"
"Yes, sir, let's just say he won't interfere with her ever again."
"Excellent, Jenkins. This type of thing always brightens up my Monday. Now let's grab a bit to eat." | 2017-07-12T18:13:43 | 2017-07-12T16:29:15 | 34 | 10 |
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once. | "You shouldn't be here."
Rebeccka's voice rang loud and clear as everyone in the hall seemed to freeze.
Closing my locker I gave a nod. "Yah I really shouldn't be here. Still pretty neat that I am here." Giving my best smile I offered my hand. "I'm Joe. It's nice to-"
"If you know you shouldn't be here then why are you here? I could slam you against the wall and you'd be powerless to stop me." Her eyes grew cold as I felt myself being lifted up. Telekinesis? Could be something else, seen someone with the power to control dust do something similar.
"Was that a warning or were you just hitting on me?" I couldn't help but smile before being slammed against the lockers. Yup, telekinesis. Ow my back....
"Lot of bark for someone with no bite. I'll let you go if you beg for it." A sadistic smile grew on her face as I couldn't help but laugh.
"This coming from the girl who added a extra c to her name cause she thought it was co-" A pressure grew around my neck. It was getting hard to breath.
"Shut. Up." Her face was a bit red, must have hit a sore spot. "You got one last chance to beg for mercy."
I gave a weak wheeze and the biggest shit eating grin I could. "Strike me down... I shall come back stronger then you can ever imagine."
There was silence before she broke out in laughter. "Holy shit seriously? You're nuts man." I felt the pressure increase. It became impossible to breath as my vision started to fade.
The next moment I found myself gasping for air, coughing as Rebeccka was restrained by professors. Getting up I cleaned myself off and pointed to the teacher restraining my assailant. "Hey mind telling me why i'm here?"
The teacher let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes. "You're here as a reality root for the principle of the school."
Rebeccka's eyes went wide as my grin grew. "And mind telling this student what exactly that is?"
The teacher, picking up Rebeccka gave a nod. "Your duty is to stay on school grounds as the anchor for the protection ward. If you were to leave school grounds or be incapacitated for long enough all those currently inside would perish."
I snapped my fingers and laughed. "Exactly! Here that folks? Rebecka here just tried to kill everyone here!" Murmurs immediately broke out as the teacher gave me a glare. I simply gave a shrug and walked off.
She was expelled on the same day. | "You see, wait what was your name again? Nevermind it doesn't matter.
Where was I?
Oh right.
You see. I never liked violence. Seems unnecessary when diplomacy works just fine these days. Two people in an argument can just, you know. Talk stuff out. No need to go all primitive.
But then again.
We could have done that couldn't we. You tell me what about me bothers you so much and I stop doing it. Or we could have just pretended the other doesn't exist.
But no.
Your kind doesn't get that now, do they?
You weren't acting like an individual. You were being a problem.
And problems.
Need to be dealt with."
Cain stopped talking when the circle was finally complete.
The red sand glowed crimson.
"I know this ain't much. But this should be enough I suppose, for another contract? This time, I would like, umm super strength or something along the lines that he has.
Oh my bad. Had"
The circle glows brighter as the boy's eyes flicker in panic. He could feel the ground getting warmer by the second, paralyzed to move away but concious to feel it all.
Cain chuckled.
Soon the ground sizzled bruning searing the boy's skin.
But just then the boy realised that he could move ever so slightly. He steeled his will and let out a howl lunging towards Jonathan who jumped back in surprise.
And just as he was about to get out of the circle. The ground beneath him broke as he fell into the pit straight to realm below.
A voice rang out in Cain's head.
"Why do you always risk that?"
"Risk what?"
"Lower the doze of the tranquilize"
"It gives them some hope of escaping."
The voice laughed.
"You would make a fine demon some day. Magic hero." | 2022-11-02T13:05:27 | 2022-11-02T11:05:22 | 49 | 34 |
[WP] You're a financial advisor. In 1994, you get a weird phone call from a man asking you if he can get any Bitcoin below $200k, and the call cuts off before you can ask him what Bitcoin was. Years later you get a call again from the same man, claiming he's calling back seconds after disconnection. | "Sorry, my connection was lost for a moment," the voice explained.
"Excuse me, I don't... think so?" I said as it was all I could tell at that situation. To be quite honest, I did remember that call. It was a very unique call, after all.
"Oh, did I get connected to the different person? I was connected to James before. Perhaps a different James?" the man said.
"I'm James. Yes. But..." I began, but couldn't continue. It was too crazy to tell the customer that they called years ago. It was probably just a coincidence. "For starters, I don't know what's the bitcoin you're talking about," I said, sighing and leaning back on the chair.
"What? Okay, this is weird. I am pretty sure that I-" but there was a silence. "Oh shit. It worked!"
"What worked?"
"My time machine phone. I'm professor James Smith - yes, it's the most generic name, I know - and I am a scientist from 2029," the scientist said. I could hear how he was grinning at the same time at the other end of the phone. But I understood him as I also had a rather generic name.
In any normal cases, I would've already put the phone down and continued my job. But this time around, I couldn't. Just from the fact alone that I remembered when James had called here the last time and that I might never get another call from him again made me hang onto it.
"Sir, that's some good news, because I am Elizabeth, the queen of England," I said it a bit more quietly. The last thing I needed was the boss jumping on me and telling me how rude I was with the customers. But I could hear a snort from the other side.
"It's fine. Just remember, Bitcoins will be super expensive. Buy a lot of them and sell them at 2018," the voice said.
"Really? And why do you think I will remember to do that?"
"Because I'm rich," the voice said.
/r/Elven | “I’d like to buy shares of bitcoin” a mumbled voice says over the phone.
Having had this conversation several times over the phone with clients the past year or so I think to myself who is it this time.
“ may I ask who’s calling?”
The voice on the other end of the phone says “does it matter? I need to buy in now”
I pause and stare blankly at my Factset monitor and ever growing list of unread emails in Outlook”
“Sir, firm policy dictates I can only give advice to existing clients and to some extent prospects, but that generally only covers assets available on our platform, currently our asset schema covers the asset classes equities, fixed income, cash, and alternatives but crypto currencies haven’t made it though compliance. Many clients like yourself have shown interest and there has been a lot of discussion of crypto currencies the past few years, but our firm has often compared it to Tulipmania which took place in Holland back in February 1637...that said you could probably buy it on a platform like coin base or a number of exchanges”
On the other end of the phone the voice screams “God damn mothafucka I traveled back in time just to deal with this bullshit..click”
My eyes gloss over at my computer onto more compliance for the next 9 hours. | 2019-04-07T07:00:19 | 2019-04-07T06:32:18 | 38 | 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. | 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.
| 2017-06-07T22:37:36 | 2017-06-07T21:48:28 | 110 | 25 |
[WP] An alien nation descends upon earth. Their assault is... incredibly underwhelming.
Take "incredibly underwhelming" however you want.
Examples: They do nothing but inconvience you. They're so weak they get bullied by grade schoolers. Their laser technology doesn't even burn a hole in your woolen sweater as even sheep have surpassed them.
Whatever you like. | Time spent in reconnaissance is seldom wasted.
Once you conquer a thousand worlds with no resistance you start to skip steps. Our initial invasions would take years to plan and complete but somewhere along the line we just started to land as soon as we reached orbit.
Killing all of the inhabitants with our aerial bombardments is easy. We finish off the survivors one on one. When your weapons are as awesome as ours, few can stand in our way.
The final stage is when we drop the drillers to extract the metallic resources required by our hungry galactic empire.
Planet H was assumed to be similar. The bombers poured out of the carriers like an angry stream of sorosso bugs. Down in the lower atmosphere, over the cities, the bombers started their runs. I could see the grey mist of toxin pouring out from the formations and I readied myself for the horrors to come.
About an hour later I was boots to ground, stepping off the transport. A fine mist of poison still fell from the bombers but I was safe, at least for a while, due to my chemical weapons suit.
The first inhabitant I saw was holding a thin shield over his head to block the chemical death raining down upon him. His shield was unidirectional so I opened up with my streamer hitting him in the torso with a blast of pure toxic h2o. He didn't even flinch, he just looked at me with surprise and then began to approach. I pulled the wet launcher from my back and hit him squarely with a dose so large it knocked him off his feet. You can't imagine my fear when he sat up like it was nothing and started screaming his war cry. A sound that would chill you like a deep breath of vacuum.
Soon we were fighting hand to hand and taking exceptional losses. The retreat sounded over the comms and somehow I managed to make it back to a carrier with the remnants of my squad. We lost half our guys that day.
| Not with a bang, but with a whimper
It has been thirteen years since the aliens invaded. Well I say invaded, they just parked a space ship in the ocean and sank a few ship. And they're not actually aliens they're just humans who somehow ended up in a distant galaxy a long time ago. They're kinda dickish about the whole "We mastered fusion power whilst you were burning cowshit for warmth thing" but other than that they're all right.
Sure do keep buying up a lot of land though. All the money that keeps flooding the economy and they seem to be the only ones getting richer.
According to the news they now own most of the purchasable land in New York, Chicago and London.The week before that Apple is now a subsidiary of E'Kath Tal-Morrel franchise. The week before that they purchased IBM, before that General Electric, and before that Monsanto. Freaking Monsanto.
Oh well, at least my supervisor's nice. | 2016-02-22T13:09:56 | 2016-02-22T08:33:57 | 66 | 10 |
[WP] After a bad breakup, you take Reddit's famous advice. Lawyer up, hit the gym, delete Facebook. The problem? You are Mark Zuckerberg. | Millions of humans slowly emerged from their dark, cold cavernous asylums into the day. Realizing the day was bright and warm and it wasn't to be shared with anyone, happiness soon followed. Facebook is gone. Their lives were their own to rule and control; all their own to live in peace.
It took longer than expected for anyone to really figure out what happened. Rumors circulated the internet, no one could establish the truth. A small news site in California posted a story about Mark and Priscilla breaking up. A few months later, Men's Health ran an article on Mark's body building transformation after the Fall. Reddit sleuths started to put two and two together. When someone finally found a small snippet of code buried deep in the salvaged FB source code, the final peace of the puzzle fell into place.
No one blamed him. Charges were filed, but no jury could be found that was willing to admit their lives were better with Facebook. Other social media sites started to disappear as users migrated away from ubiquitous online presences for a more simple lifestyle.
The Social Media Era dissolved by the year 2023. The fallout was profound. Society began to return to in-presence communication lifestyle. Texting and email faded to the background. Technology continued to advance, but it became more focused on allowing people to communicate through audio and video. Eventually, the advances led to the holonet we now know today. No one could have predicted that the social media experiment would be viewed as hampering progress.
The knowledge we gain from studying that time has given us incredible insight into humanity's social development. Now, self-reflection, awareness, consciousness, and happiness are at the focus of all aspects of life. We continuously strive to better understand ourselves and those around us in order to avoid the mistakes of the past while reaching toward the future.
edit: more story. | With half of Facebook stolen by his former wife in the divorce, Mark Zuckerberg saw no reason not to delete it.
"I'll burn facebook to the ground before I let that money grubbing whore have half!'
DELETE.
*ONE YEAR LATER*
A more swole, more satisfied Zuckerberg floats contented in his pool. In the shallow end his harem of 19-24 year old girls from around the world played with an oversized beach ball. He counted roughly 7 girls, among them his most recent favorites the red haired Irish girl and the sleek one from Brazil. "God, why didn't I do this sooner?"
By the tone and frequency he could tell in about 2 minutes things were going to get freaky deeky.
_______
On the other side of the country, Giselle posted on her new faceyspacer.com account, "Where have all the good men gone?" as she sat alone with her apartment full of cats and ill begotten divorce booty. | 2016-02-15T12:02:57 | 2016-02-15T11:01:14 | 120 | 21 |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. |
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Don Lime. Our top story tonight: life has been discovered on the outer-system planet Terrabulus. The 'aliens' are like humans in almost every way, save for the blue skin and long limbs. We've also just received word that local office worker John Abraham, age 29, has the binding legal certificate of ownership over the planet. Coming up next, our interview with the residents of Terrabulus.*"
John's girlfriend, Melissa, gasped and turned to him. "John... do you still have that certificate I gave you last year?"
"It's in my nightstand." John said, blasé as ever. It's like he didn't even care that he owned an alien planet.
Stumbling with the grace of a deaf ballerina, Melissa rushed up the stairs to retrieve the certificate, spilling her mug of black coffee on the white carpet.
"Aww, look what you did! Now the carpet needs to be shampooed, Melissa!" John shouted after her, half chuckling. Shaking his head, he went back to his tablet, mumbling something about a "Wobbly table."
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Wolf Spritzer. Our top story tonight, my interview with an alien resident of Terrabulus. Let's go ahead and show that.*"
On screen, a blue man sat in a leather armchair. His expression remained calm, though if you focused, you could see a faint smile.
"*So, you live on Terrabulus? What is your occupation?"
"*Indeed, though we simply refer to it as Terra. I am the current Ehdes, or leader, of the Planetary League.*"
"*Ok, good to hear. Now... uh... how does Mr. Abraham's ownership of the planet concern the league? How do you feel about this?*"
"*We find it refreshing. It is hard to put into your common language, as Terran is a more expressive language, but we find this to be a great boon for both of our planets. As such, we have contacted the owner of our planet via the internet.*"
The reporter gasped heavily, along with everyone else on the planet.
"*We have arranged a mutual deal with Mr. Abraham. A transport ship will land near his home for extraction at 14 hour sharp. As per his wishes, he will not be given a position of power on our planet, only a good home with a connection to your planet's internet database. He has also asked that we leave behind his family, including romantic partners.*"
A crashing noise could be heard from upstairs. "I can't find it!" Melissa shouted.
"Take all the time you need." John said, quietly. He smiled and nodded to himself. *1:59 PM*
*****
For more of my work, check out /r/Picklestasteg00d.
EDIT FOR GRAMMAR | "Mom? Is this a joke?"
"What?"
"The deed. You saw the news, didn't you? There's life on Rigellion Five!"
"Wonderful news, Matt, just wonderful."
"What? No, it's not wonderful. Did you have any idea what you were giving me?"
"There are a lot of terms and conditions. I thought it would just be a nice little thing you could tuck away and show some nice girl someday. Or nice guy. Or nice alien."
"Mom. I called the company. There is a good chance you find life on these places--I asked them about it. You're supposed to use one of the bigger places; they actually *scan* for life before selling titles. Do you know what you've done to me?"
"Darling, it's just a fun little thing."
"No! It's a big thing. I'm a colonizer now. I've got to meet this life and make a judgment about it--whether to let it be or to save it, or kill it. You want to make me a murderer, Mom? Is that your idea of a Christmas present?"
"Son, there are places that will clean these up for you. Just call someone. Use my card number if you must."
"It's an ethical problem, Mom. Biggest one I've ever seen. Next time just don't send me anything, all right?"
"Matthew."
"I've got enough to deal with at work and with--uh, with myself right now."
"Are you seeing someone?"
"No." *You're not the only one who thrives on misinformation.*
"I'm sorry it upset you. I thought you'd like to have something to take care of. Maybe grow some kind of exotic garden or something. I want you to be happy, Matthew."
"This isn't some garden, Mom, it's a new world. And now I've got to take care of it."
"We've asked you about grandchildren. Before we're dead."
"Well, there's not going to be any time for that now," Matthew replied. "Wait--"
"Love you, Matthew. Dad says hi."
----------
r/GubbinalWrites | 2017-01-01T13:54:55 | 2017-01-01T09:41:04 | 98 | 56 |
[WP] You are an immortal, but you're not that old. In fact you were born between 1980-2010. Mortals excitedly ask you about experiencing age old historical events in person, only to be disappointed and bored when they find out you're a millennial immortal. | 'You can make us immortal?'
I squinted through the projector beam and shielded my eyes with a cupped palm. I saw the woman who had asked the question. She had square glasses, and her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. With five rows of chairs, she sat in the front.
'Yes, I can,' I said.
The conference room in the Hilton had a single window - with no way of opening it - and a broken air conditioning unit. I looked as if I had just stepped out of the shower fully dressed. I was sweating so bad that my armpits started to breach my suit jacket.
'Bullshit, you're still a baby!' A man from the back shouted. He wore a baseball cap with the New York Yankees logo and an oversized jumper. He stood up from his seat and continued. 'How old are you?'
This was a common question and one that didn't phase me. 'Do you want to know my physical age or my *actual* age?'
'Both.'
'I was born in Ninety-five, which makes me Twenty-Four. But, I became immortal at Twenty, which makes my body appear younger.'
The baseball cap man roared with laughter. 'What's the fuckin' difference?'
'The *difference* is,' The woman from the front row turned, her ponytail snapped so violently that it could have been a medieval flail.' His body won't age past Twenty.'
I could smell a teacher's pet a mile off, but I was glad to have audience members participate. 'Exactly as Ms-' I said, pausing.
The woman spun back around, smiled, and said. 'Deliah,'
'Exactly as Ms Deliah put it,' I finished.
The man at the back stood and removed his baseball cap to reveal touselled brown hair. He used the hat to fan the air and said. 'I don't know about you guys, but I can't stand the smell of bullshit.' He squeezed his way to the end of his row, paused, and looked at the remainder of the audience. 'I'm trying to save y'all. Come on.' The man gestured for the door with his hat.
The ten, or so, remaining audience members looked between him and me like it was a child custody hearing.
'Just because I haven't experienced both World Wars, doesn't mean I'm lying,' I said.
'I've had enough of this shit. Come on.' The man with the baseball cap stood by the door, he opened it, and cool air rushed in.
Two others stood up; an overweight gentleman and, what looked to be, his partner. They shuffled to the end of their row, dipped their heads and hurried out of the room. Ms Deliah tutted like a disappointed mother.
'I want to reassure you all that this *isn't* a lie or a scam,' I said. 'All immortals have to start somewhere. To become immortal, you must first give up some of your own time.'
'See!' The man with the baseball cap said. He was still stood with the door open, which was a blessing because it let air into the room. 'Sounds like a scam if you ask me.'
'Shut up,' Ms Deliah said.
I hid my smile and said. 'Once you give up some of your time, you can then collect others time. I sold a year of my life, and now I can pass the good fortune on to you folks.'
'It's a fuckin' pyramid scheme!'
'Yes,' I said. 'But, it's the best damn pyramid scheme you'll find.'
---
/r/WrittenThought | *Edit: I added a slightly longer and edited version in a reply to my original comment.
The wound would’ve killed anyone else, but not me. I first discovered my immortality when I was thirteen, when I lost my arm in a farm accident, only to awaken the next day to find it reattached.
The nurse stared at me in horror, of course she did, it wasn’t every day a young man got shot in the chest at point blank range, and didn’t even scream.
“I can’t die, don’t worry about it.”
“I know you’re young, but I’ve seen people younger than you die. Doesn’t it hurt?” She was straddling me, her hands soaked in my blood, as she pressed her shirt against my bare chest to staunch the flow of blood.
“I’m immortal.”
The nurse laughed, “There’s no such thing honey.”
“You know, you’re going to feel really silly when I don’t die and you realise you flashed your boobs to some random guy,” I smirked.
She blushed furiously, “T-Then don’t look! You pervert! I’m trying to help you here. The ambulance will be here soon anyways.”
My wound was already beginning to heal, and the blood had stopped flowing. She must’ve noticed a change because she asked how old I was.
“I’m 25.”
“I mean when were you born.”
“I was born in 1994.”
“Then I’m older than you.”
I sighed. Yet another mortal who was going to interrogate me on what events I’d witnessed, and who was only going to be disappointed to learn I hadn’t even witnessed the fall of the Berlin Wall.
“My father was born before Julius Caesar, but my mother was a human, I’ve never met him.”
“Oh.”
“Are you disappointed?”
She looked down, unable to meet my eyes, “It’s not that, I- can you tell my daughter some things for me?”
I was confused.
“I’m dying. My daughter’s two, and if you get to live for a long time, maybe you can tell her some things about me.”
“Sure. If you get dressed,” I laughed, “We can go somewhere and discuss what you want to say.”
She stood up, smiling extending her hand to me.
“Touché. I’m Emily.”
“James.”
She was the first mortal to look at me like that, with a smile. People were always disappointed to learn I was an immortal born in their lifetimes. People always wanted to hear about the fall of the Roman Empire, The Middle Ages, The French Revolution, the things they’d read about in books. She was the first person to treat me like anyone else.
What she didn’t know, was it was possible to trade immortality to extend someone else’s life. | 2019-05-13T06:56:07 | 2019-05-13T06:16:50 | 1,980 | 404 |
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again. | All us helpless billions watch on our little glowing rectangles as our fellow humans die in droves. They fall screaming, choking, burning. The internet’s bad in the house, so we hunker on the steps of the chicken coop to see it.
Together we watch the end of the world. Our breath clouds and storms around us. But we do not notice the cold. Our hearts and bones are lead.
My siblings don’t make a sound. I look between the three of them and the black, faultless sky. I wonder if the afterlife looks like night, or if just looks like nothing. I wonder if I’ll find out soon.
Somewhere far away, death shrieks scarlet overhead. Ships with roving eyes swarm the sky like an army of locusts. Bodies, whole and unwhole, strewn out one atop the other, left where they fell. Entire skyscrapers collapse like dominoes. News anchors weep, openly, if they’re on the air at all. My sister flicks restlessly through live streams, unable to pick which tragedy to behold.
We crowd my oldest sister’s phone, barely able to watch yet unable to look away.
She stops at the live press conference from the president. His voice is grave and hollow; he speaks to us from a dark room in some bunker somewhere. He says, “—at this point we have little hope. We will defend ourselves to the end, but tonight, please, stay inside, stay with your loved ones—”
My brother Aaron has his head between his knees. When we were kids he ran screaming after the cougar that took his puppy. (Aaron didn't catch it.) I never believed fear was an emotion he had. “Turn that shit off,” he gasps.
“Ignoring the aliens invading our fucking planet won’t make them go away,” Maya snaps but she switches to Facebook. Not that any of her friends would have time to post *oh shit I’m dying*, anyway.
Out here, under the unblinking stars, surrounded by a chorus of crickets and coyote, I can’t fathom what waits out there.
“Someone has to tell Papa,” Jackie murmurs. She is my twin, but you can’t tell. People always seem disappointed that there’s such a thing as non-identical twin sisters.
“You’ll just scare him.” Maya, the oldest, has always been the unofficial boss of all of us. She made it official when Dad started mistaking her for our mother and trying to scramble uncracked eggs.
“He deserves to know,” she insists.
“If they come here,” Maya says through her teeth, “we’re not getting a panicked old man into the truck without hurting someone, alright?” Her words hang frozen for a moment.
“Do you think they’ll come out here?” I whisper. I am the youngest by eight minutes, and I am good at the part.
“No,” says Jackie, quickly. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
Aaron pulls his beanie over his eyes. “I wouldn’t rule it out, Jack.”
Maya gasps into her fingers. “Oh, god, they’re in Spokane.”
Bile shoots up my throat. That’s barely a hundred miles from here. Not even a particularly large city. I wonder if they’re hunting us one by one. Like rabbits.
“Shit, is that Maddie’s—?” Aaron snatches the phone from her hands.
I lean over his shoulder to see.
My sister’s friend has pressed her phone lens to the window of her dorm room. In the background, she speaks in rapid, panicked whispers with her roommate.
Outside her window mortars plummet in blue and yellow streaks, big as bowling balls. I hear her cry, “Are they bombing us?” as the first one connects. It blooms soundlessly, a pale yellow locus, and then the power of it explodes outward.
It takes Maddie maybe six seconds to die. She has enough time to say, “I need to call my mom,” as the wall of smoke and debris rushes toward her like a sulfurous tsunami. The window shatters. The video goes black.
I don’t even realize what I’ve seen until Maya starts bawling into her hands.
A strange fire tingles in my palms, my belly. I feel the urge to move. To rise and fight.
“We have to do *something*,” I say.
Aaron looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Like what?”
My fingers dance against the leg of my jeans. I know I should be scared as hell, but something in me is restless. Hungry for something very old, and long-forgotten.
I stand up and face my siblings. I look them over carefully, in case this is the last time I see them. “We will not just watch.” I point at the house. “We won’t just let them kill everything and everyone and just stand here and *watch*.”
Just south of us, down beyond the hide of the mountain, the sky turns red with fire.
Tears stream down my brother’s cheek. “I can’t believe this is fucking it.”
I shake my head, insistently. Insanely. I don’t know why, but I can’t accept that this *is* it. That this is truly how we fall.
I ball my fists up at my sides. A furious heat snaps at the bars of my ribs, yearning to set on those who dared attack our home, of all places. Our dad, of all people.
I let the hate and heat fill me.
Flame chases down my forearm, over my knuckles. The white hot of anger. My fist is a coal and my flesh is carved from the mountain, and I will destroy anything that threatens the ones I love.
“Elektra,” my brother says, oddly calm, "why is your hand glowing?"
I look at my palm and grin. The fire finds my belly now. The chaos delights some new-awoken part of me that I had never known I possessed. It is like catching my reflection in an angle I have never seen before. I am myself, but different.
“I think...” I laugh, despite the clouds of smoke rising from town. It rises out of me like a bird. I have never felt smaller or stronger. “I think I did it on purpose.”
***
/r/shoringupfragments
~~Doing part 2 right now~~
update: I accidentally deleted what I was working on. I'm going to go angrily eat cupcakes and try again.
ETA: I fell asleep :( I will post part two in a couple of hours when I'm on my break. You can check here or my sub. Thank you so much for reading. | There were some that called it a sign from God, another purging of humanity like the great flood. I never cared, all that I needed to know was that they were smart, and didn't like to go underground, best place for safe houses in my opinion. I was in one of these so called safe houses, if a sewer tunnel filled with lamps and sleeping bags counts as a house, that I first heard these claims.
Left that particular house after that conversation, it wasn't safe. The bastards killed everyone there, by the time I returned the tunnel had collapsed. No signs of life anywhere.
4 weeks ago humanity was attacked by a race of unknown origin. Humanity fought back but it was useless. These things, or "clickers" as the survivor colonies refer to them due to their habit of releasing a strange clicking sound, ever seen that movie Predator? Like the predator clicks. Anyway these clickers were ruthless and brutally efficient. Russia was the first major nation to go down, falling in only 7 hours, soon all of Asia was conquered. Fast forwards 4 weeks and humans have become rats, running through tunnels, breaching the surface only for food or water.
Under earth is safer than above it. I don't know why but they hate it underground, they won't search through tunnels too often. But if they know someone's there they will come.
On this particular day I was sleeping in an above ground safe house. More accurately in one of the cars of an abandoned military train. The thing was perfect, armored, still functioning partway so it was warm and could lock up very tightly. I was bundled in my sleeping bag in a car that had the doors sealed tight. I had awoken from a sound I had heard outside. Namely the gunshots.
That was about 30 minutes ago. But 2 minutes previously I thought I had heard a familiar clicking. I inhaled and sure enough the stench of motor oil and salt water hit my nostrils, an odd odor that clickers emitted.
Suddenly the side of the car rattled as someone, or something, tried to open the door. It rattled a few more times before there was a bang that blasted the door into pieces.
The clicker regarded me, I don't actually know what the things look like, they're always wearing the same armor, rectangular slabs of metal. It raised a serrated blade and charged.
I stumbled backwards and my left hand fell into an open control panel full of wires I had to cut to disable the alarm systems on the cars. There was still electricity in those cables. I was expecting a massive pain, I'd maybe to blackout. What I wasn't expecting was for the energy to travel down my arm and then blast from my other hand straight into the clicker. Whatever metal that armor was apparently conducted electricity as the clicker shrieked, then collapsed into the ground, smoke pouring from in between the plates.
I looked at my hand, blue energy danced from my fingers, suddenly a loud howl broke the eerie silence, a howl that meant a clicker had heart the blast. The things were slow, I likely had 5 minutes. I had packed my bag and was about to go when I glanced at the dead clicker. Curiosity struck but I still needed to get away.
Do I: Run or Investigate the Body
Edit: continuing story.
I ran over to the thing, maybe finally a chance to see what they looked like, that metal was probably valuable as well. I looked all over the armor and finally found a small blue pad on the neck, I pressed it and with hissing steam the plates folded away revealing the front of the thing.
I understood now why they covered their faces. The skin was like tanned cow hide, it was covered in what looks like blisters. The eyes were dark and hollow. The worst part was the mandible jaw. Strangely if the mandible jaw was closed the creature might look human.
The howling got louder. I remembered I was on a schedule, I grabbed anything that looked useful. An odd device that looked like a flashlight with a grip and trigger, a few plates of armor, and the blade it had held. A blade that resembled a knife sized serrated Khopesh.
Now I had picked up a few tricks since this whole thing went down, one of which was that most clickers with the exception of a few that has been wearing red plates instead of black, seemed to be blind. A scientist I had met in the first week said the clicking was echolactation, wait that wasn't it... Oh who cares.
They relied on smell to distinguish each other and that armor still had the salty oil smell. I put the plates back into place, with a groan hoisted the dead clicker out, lay down in the armor and pressed the blue button.
The layers closed down and everything was dark, of course if these things things were blind a visor wasn't needed. The second thing I noticed was that there was still a LOT of electricity surging through the armor.
Now I'm no scientist but I'm fairly certain I should have been cooked alive. No time for that now. I tried to tear the helmet off and somehow succeeded. I sprinted out of there, the armor surprisingly light, snagging my pack under my arm as I ran.
7 years, and many incinerations, electrocutions, crushings, and drownings later the clickers finally retreated. Leaving behind only a strange gold box, oddly resembling an Egyptian coffin. Nobody could open it. I walked up to it and slid the blade I'd carried for seven years into a small slot in the box. It clicked and opened and I was staring at my own dead body...
Roger woke with a start. "Okay that's it, no more pizza before sleep." | 2018-05-01T08:36:36 | 2017-12-06T20:40:56 | 377 | 29 |
[WP] Every time you sneeze you find yourself in someone else's body. It's usually no real problem; you change back in 60 seconds. This time when you sneeze you find your tied up. In front of you is guys with guns. "Alright Franky, you got 30 seconds to explain why we shouldn't kill your ass" | "What the fu..." you say out loud, quickly realizing your mistake as one of them raises their gun, pressing it firmly against your forehead. The cold tip of the barrel pushes your head back slightly as you subconsciously try to avoid what is coming.
You suddenly realize that your face, neck, stomach, every part of you is throbbing with pain. You feel your lip is split, and can't help but wonder what you found yourself in the middle of.
"'ey boss, how about just do him in. Not like he's gonna tell us about where he put the money." The man said as he pushed the gun harder into you.
"Calm it Joey, he might value his pathetic life more than the money. Besides, not like he wants something to happen to his girl." Just then a door flung open and a young lass was shoved into the room. "So hows about you start talking."
"Guys, just give me a minute, and I will tell you everything!" You say, your voice quivering.
The boss man kneeled in close to you. "Then talk."
"Go to my house, check under my..."
Joey pushed the gun back against your head, cutting you off. "You think we're stupid, we already checked the house for the money! Boss, just let me..."
"Shut up, or by god, I will end you myself." The boss man said, annoyance in his voice.
You continue "Under my carpet in the bedroom. There is a key. Take the key to the city bank. I have a lock box, number 0835. You will find what you need there." Every word is a lie, but you only need to buy time.
The boss man pats your face before look at Joey and signaling with his hand. Joey looks over to the girl and takes a shot at her, hitting her in the leg. She screams out in pain. "Nice try Franky, but we know you dont have carpet in your place. That was just a warning shot, then ahe dies."
Realizing these guys will call any bluff you throw, you have no choice but to tell the truth. "Guys, i swear, I have no idea what you are talking about. I'm not actually..." Without hesitation Joey shoot the girl in the head. Blood and brain matter now scatter the floor and the wall, and a strange and unpleasant smell works its way up to your nose.
"All right, you had your chance to talk and obviously you dont want to. Finish up here Joey." Boss man says as he stands up and begibs to walk out.
"No!" you plead. "I'm actually Jason McCormick. I dont even know who you people are." Joey takes aim at you while you talk. Your heart starts to race more, ripping at your chest. "I am from Chicago, Illonois." Joey's hand steadied now, finger moving to the trigger. "I work at a law firm called..."
The gun shot makes your ears ring. Your eyes forced shut and you feel a pressure and pain on the front of your head... There is a large commotion around you; you open your eyes and find yourself back at the mall, where you were just a minute ago. | 3 angry dudes were in front of me, with who seemed the leader threatening me with a quite scary military knife.
**59:47**
*Okaaaaay, take a deep breath Sam. You have been through worse situations like when you possessed the superintendent the moment he was enjoying some quality BDSM time.*
**56:28**
"Hey motherfucker, did that hit earlier turn you dumb huh?"
*Analize.*
I was tied to a chair in what appeared to be a dark basement. They have a knife and 2 clubs. *No firearms*
**52:13**
"Are you..."
"Shut the fuck up you blonde bastard." *It's showtime.*
I said while liberating my hands from the ropes.
"Son of a..." Before he could even react I restrained him and threw him to his subordinates.
*Whoa! This body is good!*
**50:00**
I gave the mobs a good ninja like hit in their necks, putting them to sleep.
*I feel awesome, does this dude train Kung Fu or something?*
I walked out of the basement and saw a little girl gagged and tied on the floor.
She seemed asleep. Following the instincts my body was sending me I removed all the nuisances and left her in a comfortable position on a sofa that was near.
*The furniture seems to be from the 70s, did I end in the past this time?*
**33:56**
Following my code of actions, I searched for a paper to write about what I did to prevent the owner from freaking out after I return.
**09:09**
*Should I at least see how I look like?*
**07:44**
Picking up a mirror I dust off the surface.
**06:13**
*This is gross, is this spider dung?*
**04:38**
*Wait...*
**02:59**
*Noooo way.*
**01:36**
*I am Bruce Lee!*
**00:00**
Returning to the present, I googled Bruce Lee and found out that he surprisingly was truly nicknamed Franky by the neighborhood.
But something was weird. *How come I'm getting images from an old ass man that... Resembles him?*
*Oh shit. I fucked up.*
| 2018-11-15T13:32:17 | 2018-11-15T13:27:12 | 79 | 59 |
[WP] You die and appear before the Devil and seven other individuals. They applaud you and the Devil exclaims, “finally, an eighth deadly sin!” | The devil cackled in delight. I looked around at the room, panicked. *Was I in hell?* The room was bare: white walls, no windows and a set of tables and chairs, all filled up. Several others sat in the room with me. From a distance they looked normal, but soon I realised differently. The man sitting to the leftest most had chins to spare, his biker shirt covered with grease. *Sloth.* To his right was a confident teen in a tux, admiring himself in a mirror. *Pride.*
I counted them. Seven. But then... who was I?
"Finally!" The devil exclaimed, his snake tongue flickering in and out of his mouth as he spoke, his red skin glinting in the hard light. "An eighth deadly sin!"
I felt like I was going to pass out. What was he talking about? An eighth deadly sin?
"You have it all wrong," I spluttered in despair. "There's been a mistake!"
My mind was racing. What could I have possibly done wrong? Sure, I wasn't the most devout or pious christian, but I didn't belong with any of the grotesque caricatures sitting in front of me.
"Oh, there's been no mistake, Tom," The devil smirked. "In fact, some might call you the deadliest of the eight."
"Listen, I'm not a bad person." I began, my voice cracking. "I've never done anything like that."
"Really? Do you need some reminding?"
The devil plopped himself into a chair opposite me, not unlike a police officer interrogating his hapless victim.
"January 13th, 2018, 7:13pm."
"That was yesterday." I said, frowning.
"Just one of many occasions," he continued. "You were browsing the internet on your computer, in your room on the second story of house 331 Chancery Drive."
I nodded, bracing myself for the worst.
"You were on reddit, and you saw a post," he said. "A run-of-the-mill meme. You laughed at it, sent it to your friend Sarah and Adam, and..."
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline.
"You didn't upvote it."
The seven people turned away their gazes in disgust. I couldn't blame them. I hung my head an stared blankly at the floor. The eighth deadly sin. The worst of them all. | They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die, but it didnt happen for me. In fact I didnt get anything. Just black out and fade into a dimly lit room.
"Candles? The fuck is this? A fucking Bath and body works?"
The large room contained eight beings of which I paid no mind.
I wandered up to the table in the centre an sat down at the head chair.
"That's my seat! How dare you take the seat of the prince of hell!" A pretty looking fellow with fucking angel wings was shouting at me.
"Listen skippy, I'm not sure what you expect?" I waved my hand at him dismissively.
"The fucking balls on this one? Mmmm I like him." I turned to take in the sultry voice of a female in tight leather pants. She was stunning yet, like my daughter, you know, looked like the type who gobbled dick, more dick than a coked out Daniel Tosh.
"I'd grab you by the pussy" I winked at her.
"Remove yourself from my seat!" The pretty angel guy was not letting this go anytime soon.
I removed my left shoe and tossed it at his perfect face. It struck him square in the nose and he fell backwards in shock.
The others surrounded him and helped him to his feet.
"Alright my little muppets." I said standing from the chair. My left foot landing something squishy that I paid no mind too.
"Allow me to introduce myself, I'm goddamned Donald mother fucking Trump!" | 2019-01-12T23:48:56 | 2019-01-12T15:27:37 | 43 | 18 |
[WP] Every person in the world undergoes a "goodness" test. It's designed to give a score from 1 to 200, where 1 is pure evil, and 200 is an angel in human body. Then the world is divided into 200 zones, where people can live among their own kind. | The worlds capital city was a huge, walled masterpiece named 'Virtue' to echo its extreme moral standards. The city was walled off into 200 sectors, each increasingly smaller than the last, until you reach the high rises in the city centre for the 200's or 'true citizens' as they were affectionately referred to by the media. In stark contrast, the outer sector was effectively a giant slum for the 1's.
Here in Virtue your number determines the standard of living, many call this virtue incarnate. Others call it bullshit. I am inclined to agree with the others, and the situation is becoming toxic with the installation of a giant golden statue of Arete, the Greek goddess of virtue and valour in sector 200. The true citizens were playing a dangerous game, as it turns out that most people do not score well. Over 70% of the cities population resides between sectors 1-50.
"BROTHERS AND SISTERS! HEED MY WORDS!!" begun a local fanatic. People were putting a temporary halt to beating the shit out of one another and petty acts of vandalism and theft to see what the commotion was all about.
"Why do we follow a law that condemns us to a life of squalid containment!?" his eyes were bloodshot as he spat each word. High as a kite I mused as I watched whilst smoking from the safety of a street corner within ear shot.
"We have 15% of virtues people in this sector alone, no other sector has more. I pose the question to you, my fellow brethren. How are the 1% truer citizens than the rest? Who has the right to decide were less good than others.." he reasoned as murmurs of debate broke out in the ever-increasing mob.
"We should rise up! And free our fellow brothers over the walls and take what should be everyon-"BANG the fanatics body lurched forward as a hole was torn through the robed man, spurting blood into the faces of those closest. The cigarette dropped from my mouth as I strained to see the source, way up high almost in the clouds. A man donned in brilliantly white, steel armour with a sniper stood atop the towering walls of what I would assume was the wall between sectors 197 and 198. Uprisings were not tolerated.
The mob erupted in cries of pure hatred, people grabbed sticks, guns and makeshift weapons as they hopped in trucks, cars and everything they could and charged the wall between 1 and 2. The wall stood merely 10 foot high and was in a state of disrepair. The skeleton crew of guards were took by surprise as I and thousands behind me plowed through the wall in mammoth truck rigs and into sector 2, where the industrial sector begun. We broke out in cheers as the guards were bludgeoned viciously behind us in the mob.
---2 months later and we have reached sector 90 and the uprising will not stop until the pretentiousness of the true citizens is brought down.--- | I've heard stories of how, long ago, people of all types were allowed to live together, a place where people with a goodness score of 1 were allowed to live in the same places as people with goodness scores of 200.
Of course, this world stopped existing after a team of scientist invented the perfect way to test someones "goodness". The goodness test wasn't widely accepted, until Vladimir Putin, a dictator, discovered the test while he was browsing a website called "Facebook"(The creator of this site was later killed by a mob of Goodness Test believers after they discovered he had a goodness test of 1). He discovered this test while he was invading America, and after he somehow managed to conquer America, he made taking this Goodness Test mandatory to take for every person.
He started making the people with goodness scores under 40 into slaves, who built the walls we see now. None of this matter now, however. This all happened very long ago, and none of it matters anymore. The people who have yet to be diagnosed are kept outside the walls. "my, my..your score is a 10." "Put him in the cart, let him live with the rest of the filth.". "Next person.", I walk up to him, nervous. "Okay, just go in there, and take the test." I walk in to the rather well lit cubicle, a sharp contrast between the dark and pouring rain outside. I take the test, I walk out. "Well, aren't you lucky. You've got a score of 75. Go into that bus, and you and the other people in there will be transported over to sector 75. Enjoy the ride."
I look back at the camp one last time, before walking into the bus. After a small wait, we set off for sector 75. As we pass through sector 1, I see a barren wasteland, and our car gets attacked by the inhabitants. They threw glass bottles, and rocks at our bus, which was thankfully heavily armored. The bus-driver sped up, and we thankfully got away. To be continued, possibly. | 2016-08-26T12:49:17 | 2016-08-26T10:59:35 | 54 | 18 |
[WP] A parallel universe, in which Pay to win is the norm and gamers complain about these new "skill to win "games from the publisher Artificial Entertainment
A parallel universe, in which Pay to win is the norm and gamers complain about these new "skill to win "games from the publisher **A**rtificial **E**ntertainment | Douglas slid the final quarter into the Terminator 2: Judgement Day console. This was it. Fifteen more seconds of end boss play. Three more grenades. One more life. FOR. THE. WIN!!! It was glorious! The best $20.75 he'd ever spent. As the light gun in his hand settled down for the final cutscene, you thrilled at the brilliance of the game. The first two levels were playable on a single 50 cent buy-in. And then it became exponentially more expensive as you progressed. Earlier, he'd stopped as he ran out of quarters at $5, $10, and even $20. That had been heartbreaking - partway through the final level he'd realized: This game wasn't just your typical pay to win coin-op faire. No no, it was a masterpiece, tuned *just beyond* the $20 threshold.
Douglas grinned the entire bus ride home. He threw open the door, triumphantly, "DAD! I finally beat Terminator 2 at the arcade," Douglas thrilled.
"Son," came the somber reply, "I don't want you throwing your money away on those arcade machines any longer."
"What?"
"Come in here, your mother and I want to talk to you."
Douglas hung his head. What had he done wrong? It was his own allowance money he was spending, and he'd saved for a month to achieve this victory. He'd washed both cars, mowed the lawn every week, and taken out both trash and recycling like clockwork to guarantee success. And now he was... what? In trouble for it? That just didn't make sense. He kicked his feet as he walked down the hallway to the TV room where his parents were waiting. This sucked.
"Surprise!" yelled his Dad, Mom, and kid sister. "Happy Birthday!!!"
What!? Douglas felt his heart skip.
His Dad beamed at him, "Fooled you, didn't I?"
"Uh.." Douglas was speechless as he took in the room.
"But I wasn't lying - you don't need to spend your money on those arcade machines anymore," his dad continued. "We saw how hard you saved up just for this one try, so we thought - for your birthday - you'd appreciate a *home gaming system.*" Dad gestured to the TV cabinet, and the shiny black device at the bottom. "This, son, is a brand new SUPER NES. Now you won't ever have to pay money at the arcade again on that 'pay to win' crap. What did it cost you today to play *once*? $20? Well now for $50 you can *own the game* and play whenever you want! Winning isn't about how much you spend, but how *good you are at the game*! Isn't that great?!"
Little did Dad know, this wasn't an alternate universe at all, but actual goddamn reality, circa 1991, and it was fucking glorious. | It's like Overwatch, except all is pay-to-win. There are all these options to buy upgrades and even buy downgrades before the game starts. Both teams of 6 players each have 5 minutes to spend a minimum of $50 USD each to upgrade themselves or downgrade the enemy team.
You might get the Aimbot level 3 upgrade for your sniper. But the enemy might get the Blur level 4 downgrade, making it harder to focus on targets.
You might not buy the Ultimate Charge upgrade, but your enemy might downgrade your Ult Charge by 20% for $120 USD.
The games only last about 20 minutes, but it's all fair. Like in real life, money wins. If you have more money you have more firepower. It's as simple as that.
But there's been a recent development. There are people who buy no upgrades and don't even invest in downgrading the enemy team. They take the default weapons and... just play the game for FREE.
There's this one guy who manages to work a bow and arrow by knowing exactly how the Blur or Fade or Misalign debuffs work. He will estimate the level of each debuff and then alter his aim. Most of his shots are pure head shots.
Some weeks ago we had a problem with a team of these guys. They took a full map by surprise by using in-game flying vehicles to bombard our home base. Our home base full of our financial investments. It was terrible.
The entire economy collapsed and we had to step up our game. We invested millions of Dollars to fund a strike force against the team of 6. We did the only thing that was fair: we brought 2104 gamers to fight their team of 6.
It still took us about 12 years to finally track down their leader and kill him. We spent over 500 billion US Dollars in the process, but the threat was removed. We invaded thousands of servers and managed to take away everything these so-called skilled players loved.
We label them terrorists now. And we've been at war with them for a long time. Things have been calming down with our previous leadership. He was a sensible person, working towards a peaceful ending and making sense of our finances again.
But we have a new leader now. We call him Agent Orange. | 2018-02-12T15:10:56 | 2018-02-12T14:33:19 | 115 | 10 |
[WP] All sorcerers are born with an unique set of abilities that aid them in mid to long range combat, ranging from a mere 20 meters to an insane 200 meters in effect. Your family, skilled and renowned, snobbish long range fighters never expected you to be this powerful - with a total 5 meter range.
[deleted] | Mages are amongst the highest class. Being able to cast spells from your fingertips gives you a sense of superiority, a feeling that you are above the masses. But even amongst such an elite group of people, there is a hierarchy. And my family, well, they are practically at the top.
My bloodline is full of powerful long range sorcerers. It can be traced back to some of the early days of settling, where my ancestors assisted carving out the territory our kingdom resides in. But such esteemed placing comes at a price. Those born without that gift are cast out. Those born with it, but are weak, are left in the dust.
So as you can guess, it was with delight that I found I held mind-boggling power. So much power in fact, it was estimated that I could take on my father, mother and elder sister, and win. But then, we found the flaw. My range was pitiful. The best could manage 200 meters. The average user could go 80 meters. I could go 5.
My family didn't know what to make of me. I was powerful, yes, but so close range. No self-respecting sorcerer allows people to get that close. And yet I had to. They discussed it, through long nights. What was to be my future?
They came to an agreement. I would still be part of the family. But I would receive no special favour, unlike my sister. I had to prove myself. At first, I was distraught. They clearly didn't care for me. Only the standing I could provide.
But as time passed, and I learned, I grew. I turned, and relied on myself. I would never rely on them or anyone. And I found the range didn't matter so much. I didn't want to stand away from my target. The anger inside me, the anger at how I had been treated, demanded I stare my target in the eyes.
I learned how to move silently, controlling the area around me to assist me. I leanred how to hide, bending the light to show what I wanted. I learned how to pinpoint weak points, in both flesh and stone. I learned to fight with blade and bow.
I then set out, alone, to the nearby orc tribe, that had been terrorising the villages. The king had requested aid in taking the head of the chieftain, but none of the mages wished to help. I snuck in, and assassinated him, before leaving without a sound. When I presented the king with his head, he was pleased. And my family finally, after all these years, reached out with offers of help.
Now that I had the kings pleasure, I was a higher standing in the court. They craved that power. I turned them down, composing to serve the king instead. He saw firsthand the effectiveness of my power. And he was impressed. I was inducted into his security detail in short order.
I enchanted his royal robes, to protect him from assassins. I empowered his guards armour, to be stronger, and let them move more freely. Then, at his behest, I took my new place. I was sent, into the night. And each time, I would take down one of his enemies.
My power, and range, lead me down the dark path, of becoming the first Royal Assassin. A role that I happily took, for it put me above my snobbish, spiteful family. A role in which I only had to rely on myself. The one who never let me down. | "It's not the distance that matters," I whined. "It's the power, and how you use it."
"Nonsense," replied my father. "That's the voice of resentment speaking in you. The same resentment spoken by all the lazy, weak and ineffectual wizards of the world. They refuse to put the effort in, to increase the magnitude or quality or range of their powers. So they gather together, like pathetic blobs of sludge, and compliment one another on their inadequacies. They tell each other they have nothing to be ashamed of. They feed on their own self-pity, and rot. But we are not those kinds of wizards. We don't accept limitations, and even less do we pat ourselves on the back for them. We transcend them!"
"It's an outdated way of thinking," I said.
"More of your "Power Positivity", eh?" snapped my father. And then, in a grating, mocking voice, he said: "Ooooh. All abilities are equally good! It's only the oppressive establishment who has convinced us that some abilities are better than others! It's only the ancient Council of Wizards who have convinced us that it is better to have greater power, longer range, and wider effect! But they're wrong! Being utterly powerless is just as good as having great power! Wah, wah, wah! - Nonsense! I will not have any son of mine falling for any of that claptrap. Your range is small. That is a fact. It is also an everpresent embarrassment to me, and to the family. We must improve it. We must do whatever we can to improve it. I won't have you building your identity around laziness and impotence. There are things we can do. There are exercises. There are diets. There are surgeries."
"Surgeries!" I cried. "Can't you accept me for who I am? Can't you see any of my good qualities? Within a five meter range, I can summon shields impenetrable by even them most adept sorcerers. Why must you fixate on the one thing about me that is imperfect?"
"No son of mine will be a self-pitying, self-hating heap of inadequacies!" he shouted.
"But I don't hate myself," I replied.
"I realize," he said scowling, "And that is part of the problem. You and your precious shields. But though they can stop the wizards of the world from blasting you into smithereens, they cannot stop me from smacking some sense into you. That is one thing your little shields cannot do. I will break through. I will make you learn. I will make you improve. You watch." | 2020-11-26T13:46:16 | 2020-11-26T13:21:28 | 75 | 35 |
[WP]You adopt a stray cat. The gifts it leaves on your bed are getting more concerning. | When Mrs. Blanchard rolled onto her side and tugged on her blanket, sunlight hit her face. Her eyes opened, then she screamed.
A dead mouse's glassy eyes stared at her.
Mrs. Blanchard's hands reacted without conscious choice, and she sent the little carcass flying to the other end of the room.
She sat up in bed, still hyperventilating. The high-pitched mewing of a cat startled her.
But the cat was her cat and Mrs. Blanchard knew that it lived with her under the same roof. Confirming that the cat was indeed hers Mrs. Blanchard took some deep breaths and composed herself as the cat jumped on the bed to snuggle with her owner.
"You surprised me there Caramel," Mrs. Blanchard said and stroked the cat.
Then she went about her day as usual thinking nothing of the dead mouse, thinking it was an unhappy accident whose result had to be put into the garbage bin.
But she was greeted the next day by a sock that looked familiar.
The day after there was a necktie.
Mrs. Blanchard inquired about the clothes in her neighborhood. No one had lost so much as a wet rag.
Then there was a ring. Mrs. Blanchard's wedding ring. It was not the one she had stored away in the cupboard. Mr. Blanchard won't return her calls.
Then there was an ear. It looked familiar.
"Oh god, Caramel. What have you done!" | I couldn’t turn away fast enough. I immediately slammed the door closed and screamed “WHAT THE FUCK!!” in utter disbelief of the image forever now branded into my deepest synapsis. Atoms overloaded, neurons on all cylinders, new pathways forged instantaneously. Milliseconds turned into centuries as I barely made two steps before buckling to my knees head in hands. I had to crawl away as fast as I could but my body was moving thru tar. Just as I looked up and took my first breath; I saw my wife walk into the house, the cat at her feet… | 2021-12-17T07:34:47 | 2021-12-17T07:05:33 | 49 | 10 |
[WP] At a regular high school, every student coincidentally happens to be a superhero. Thus far, every student has managed to keep their secret identity a secret. When a supervillain attacks the school, each student believes he/she is the target and tries to maintain his/her secret identity. | Explosions and maniacal laughter - terrifying cacophony to most, sweet release for me.
Some kids blow off steam throwing chords off their guitars, disturbing the peace from suburban garages. Others leave their stress at the gym - disappointing physics grades turned into chemical energy turned into mechanical energy. Some just lash out at others. Put me down as a little column B, little column C. My outlet is vigilanteism.
This might be a frightening prospect for your usual unwilling Shakespeare analyst, but not for me. Super strength and near impenetrable skin will take the fear right out of you. As a result, I've crushed a few aspiring crime boss fantasies. My social network has a lot fewer friends than adversaries.
I always knew an enemy would come for me at school. Inevitable, really. My age is basically impossible to hide - a few unfortunately timed voice cracks and my recent puberty is revealed. Where do you find a den of puberty? Teenagers don't hang out in hard to find, massive subterranean caves near billion dollar mansions; teenagers are at school. Now I just need an excuse to leave the room...
"Can I go to the bathroom?"
Jimmy, what? That was going to be my out! Those explosions must've scared the piss out of Jimmy if he needs to go that bad.
Ms. Nelson responds shakily: "Umm children, if everyone could um stay seated. I'm going to lock the door now *jesuschristpleasebeadream*." I should convince her to let me go to the office for details and instructions.
Before Ms. Nelson could be moved by my impassioned request, Jen bursts through the door. She looks surprised to see us, and greets us with "what? Nothing." She pauses, and then adds an unenthusiastic "ahhh" as she zips up her backpack and grabs her phone from her pocket. She sits down in the front row and taps her foot, glancing back and forth from cell phone to clock.
Ms. Nelson carries on with her door locking task, assuring herself that locked doors are step one in making any good fortress. Her fortifications are celebrated with a loud squeaking noise. Locating the source, Ms. Nelson chastises, "Charlie! I know we're all scared, but please don't climb out the window! *ohgodohgod* We must stay here, together children." So much for that egress.
Well, I can go behind the filing cabinets and punch my way out, claim the explosions did it. I'm running out of options to leave this room. If I don't get out, either the school's getting destroyed or I'm getting revealed as a superhero. As I stand up, I notice Sarah get up as well. I look at her, confused. "Uh, Ms. Nelson, I'm going to check behind the filing cabinets for damage. We need to know if we're secure," she says.
"Oh very brave Sarah. *sob* Be careful."
What is with everyone today? I know stress hits everyone differently but damn.
Everyone looks very uncomfortable in their seats, but Ms. Nelson seems to be the only one in distress. Must be class-wide shock. I can't let the school be destroyed, I have to reveal myself. I'll deal with the fallout after everyone is safe.
Suddenly, Tina stands up and announces, "everyone stay calm! I'm the Red Panther and I'm going to save the school!"
Jen gasps "No fucking way!"
Tina continues, "I know this may come as a surprise to-"
"No, I mean I can't believe you're a hero too!" Jen interrupts. She unzips her backpack and pulls out her Green Falcon suit.
Chatter and laughter start spreading through the classroom. More people start standing up. Button ups are undone, revealing costumes underneath. Staffs and ropes and utility belts are being pulled from backpacks and under desks.
Is everyone in this school a superhero? This is ridiculous! Wait a minute, if that's true, then that means...
Becca didn't bail on me last Friday because I'm awkward; she went to go put out that fire at the spandex factory! I still have a shot! With Aqua Chick no less!
Yes! | I pulled open my fridge and shut it with a frown. Crouching down, I reached into the freezer and dug around until I found a month old frozen *Hungry Hero* dinner. I grimaced as I saw the slogan, *Food Fit for a Hero!*. I had checked the label on the back once. Sugar, salt and soybean oil had never seemed like the key ingredients to a "Heroic" dinner to me.
*Oh well* was the only voice of protest in the back of my mind. It was a strange world, out there. Mutations hit everyone. Every week someone found a magic artifact or discovered they had alien DNA. Most of the time it only lasted a little while, since it turned out you could never really make *something* from *nothing*. The mutations would turn south, the magic would leave. Lots of theories always flew around as to why, but there was one thing that was always true: powers were usually trouble and the more you used them the faster you lost them.
Personally, I had the power to rip a man in half with my bare hands. I had the hero card and everything to prove it. I never actually used it for anything, I worked management at a construction site. The money was good and I'm pretty sure the higher ups liked having me around since I could fix things in an emergency. Had to explain to the men once that the last time I lifted something that heavy, all the blood vessels in my arm burst and I ended up in a hospital. They started taking safety regulations seriously again when I brought a photo the next day.
The microwave beeped. I sat down in front of the TV and flipped on the news.
There was always so much on the news. "Supers" popped in and out all the time, occasionally causing humanity to take three steps forward or three steps back depending on the powers they got and how they used them.
"...gedy today has struck today as yet another school shooting has taken place in a school in the middle of New York City." Huh. "The villain, who at this time has not been identified by the police, was a recently reborn super. We have been told that the mutation seems to have been intentional, as several high-caliber fire arms had been fused with the subject's body as a result of intense radiation. The police dispatched their standard anti-super squad who dispatched the subject with standard, magnetically propelled slugs. A hazmat team is currently decontaminating the area. Miraculously, no students were harmed in the attack although two teachers have been hospitalized and several have received superficial injuries. One of the teachers we spoke to said that the Super was shouting '*YOU DID NOTHING!*'. We can only wonder who it was and what it is they did not do."
Huh. Well, it worked out I guess. But that meant it was time to change the channel. This stuff would consume the news for the rest of the evening, not that they'd have anything new. As I reached for the remote, the newscaster once more grabbed my attention.
"Just a moment, we're receiving word on the identity of the shooter. We've managed to identify an anonymous tip that the shooter was one *Trevor Grant*. For our viewers he may be a familiar name. His son was killed in a hit-and-run last week near the school. Our condolences and prayers go to the families of the victims."
*Poor guy*, was all I could think as I changed the channel. | 2016-04-06T11:24:02 | 2016-04-06T11:20:26 | 70 | 21 |
[WP] It was only after they invaded that the aliens realized, to their horror, that humans had superior technology in all things, except inter-planetary spaceflight. | Legends say that we were once a great and proud race of conquering warriors. We were masters of stealth and intrigue, strong and clever, and we were ready to grasp the universe in our tentacles.
Our first invasion fleet launched for a nearby water-bearing world, where we immediately started subjugating the local population. We ripped them to shreds, and dominated all that the eye could see. This world was ours.
For generations beyond measure, we ruled this planet with a curled grip. Our once-great fleet eventually decayed away into nothingness.
But then came the boats – *on top of* the water. And then there were nets, and spears, and…
It had never occurred to us that intelligence could arise on land. These… *humans*… their technology is completely different from ours. It is hard, and sharp, and dry. If they have space ships, they probably don't even grow them like we do.
---
I was young when I was first told of the legends of our people. I thought that they couldn't possibly be true, and decided to challenge these humans myself. I would conquer these land-dwellers in the name of my people, and restore our honor and dignity.
[My attack](http://youtu.be/epiulyZz4jY), however, was only a moderate success. Although I never tried it again, I will always cherish the memory of that day, my reign of terror. | I don't understand. These dirty little apes could barely hope to their moon before we got here. Yet they have weapons that can kill from afar, giant metal monsters that make my men exploding before they can see them. They have artificial birds that rain death from above!
I called the full retreat thinking we would be safe if we got off this death ball, only to find the humans had hijacked on of our ships.
Everything is crashing around me. Humans have everything on us but our space ships... and now that have that. I won't go down in history as a planet killer... but as the fool that let humans off their rock. | 2014-10-17T09:54:31 | 2014-10-17T09:09:35 | 340 | 56 |
[WP] The first group of astronauts leave for Mars. Days later we find out one of the astronauts killed his wife before leaving earth.
Title | "Wake up Alden."
The radio buzzes with white noise.
"You nee-- to--wak--uh-pp-"
The white noise lingers. The voice is gone.
My eyes feel sore. Everything is blurry. Climbing the cryo-chamber, my legs feel a little like rubber, and I have what feels like will be a throbbing headache. Cryo-sleep sucks.
I look around, everyone else is still asleep. Why am I up? The giant timer above the door to the cyro-chambers is still ticking with 6 months left.
"Damn sleep chamber. Must be broken." This is the first time they've been tested outside lab run trials.
Walking out to the main deck, I take my seat and stare off into the distance. Ahead nothing but blackness.
"We're coming for you Mars."
I sigh as I get up and press a button for a cup of coffee. The machine makes a few beeps and boops, then dispensed black coffee at high speeds into my astro-carbon based recyclable coffee cup. I take a sip and cringe slightly. "You think for committing your life to a space mission, the first of its kind, you would at least get some decent cup of joe. I guess it wasn't in the budget."
I sit back down in the flight chair, what some might refer to as the "captain's" chair. I put my feet up on the center console, in a spot away from so many buttons and levers. The ship won't mind I'm sure. Too busy traveling at the speed of light.
I close my eyes, and tilt my head back. I can feel my spine stretch. For being in space, you wouldn't think you'd get any back pain - but laying in place for too long will make you a little stiff. As bad as the coffee is, it's needed. The aroma fills my nostrils. I breath in deep. It's shitty coffee - but it's coffee.
As my mind wanders, I suddenly become fixated on a blip of light i see through the slit of my eye lids, in the corner of my left eye.
"A message?" Already? I didn't think they'd send one out as early as they have. I quickly twisted the chair around and got up to approach the light. There was no mention of a message during pre-mission briefs. Everything was planned to a tee - every "i" and "j" dotted, every "t" crossed. We knew every step to take between lift off and landing on Mars. Every situation was planned and practiced, with back up to our back plans. There was no margin for improvising. Every base was covered, except this.
Clear as day: This message wasn't supposed to be there.
I looked over towards the hallway leading to the cryo-chambers, as if someone else was coming around the corner. I hit the button. A screen lights up in front of me, running through diagnostics, scanning the message. After pressing a few buttons and flicking a switch or two, the message plays.
I didn't know what was going to happened next. I don't think anyone could have expected it. It wasn't a final affirmation of humanity's next step. It wasn't a tearful goodbye from Casey's, Joey's, Daniel's, or my family. It wasn't a recording of the news broadcast from the night we successfully launched and began our mission.
It isn't something we were trained for. Nothing we prepared for. It was Mission Control:
"Craig's wife was murdered. Craig is the killer. You must --"
the message cut out to white noise.
Foot steps echo in the background. I hear a voice call out - "Alden? Are you out there?"
It was Craig.
"Fuck." | "Breaking Development in the Astronaut killer story. We have just received word that investigators have found a letter left behind by Jeremy McCarthy. As you know Jeremy was part of NASA's X-2 mission to mars. Hours before launch, his wife was discovered dead in the household, when the family's dog walker came to pick up their dogs. By the time the news reached NASA, the spaceship had already launched taking Jeremy far away from the jurisdiction of US authorities.
Unfortunately, the horror didn't stop there. Once the ship was safely out of Earth's atmosphere, Jeremy incapacitated all of his crew members, who had yet not received word of his crimes back on Earth. He then loaded them onto the trash chutes and released them into space. They are still alive though, but with only hours to live, as thankfully, they were still in their space suits.
Jeremy not only left behind a letter, but he also made a rap video. We have received a copy of this video and we are going to play it now. We warn you this video will be graphic."
>Yea girl, What up now?
Im on my way to space,
while you choking on some cow
Thats what you get for being so bitter
Stanky ass ho aint ever cook me a meal
I was tired of this shit
So I put some cyanide in your veal
WHAT UP!
Fuck wit your boy, I'm a genius for real
while you was fucking Tony,
I was doing science for real
One day I came back home, looked through some tapes
Found out that dude used to come on your face
Damn, its sad it had to end that way
but whats a man supposed to do,
when he spent five years jerking off to the moon
but he was imagining you
as his semen flooded the room
God Damn,
Girl you told me get you the moon,
I gave you rocks I smuggled in my ass
and I still cant poo.
Damn it was true love once, I wish you could've cooked for me
if only just once
I could have put up for it - for just one more day,
if you would have learned to make me a medium rare steak
And I know the world wont understand me,
but out there in space, I know I'll find my real family.
So I'm gonna hop onto my spaceship & leave behind my crew
spend the rest of eternity trying to forget about you
Fuck with the BBW's chilling inside of the moon
Uh-oh Was I not supposed to say that?
Let this be a lesson to all of my astronauts' wives
Just send your boy a tit pic every once in a while
I'm not trying to be romantic, but it might just save yo life
"The world is currently turning to Elon Musk to see if they have any space ships that can quickly deploy to rescue the stranded astronauts. That's all right now world, we hope you continue to stay with us here, as we follow the story till the very end."
| 2015-11-03T20:00:33 | 2015-11-03T13:45:47 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] You are a human on a spaceship crewed by aliens. As your hair dye begins to fade, your crewmates start to worry about your health. | Ka-el-ri sat next to me at lunch. "Listen, I know you said not to worry, but... Your hair says otherwise." She touched the plated braid over shoulder. It was a vibrant vermillion but the black roots were showing.
"Honestly its fine." I reaponded brushing her hand away.
"I dont know..." she touched her own hair, a deep aqua that commented her dark grey skin that was mottled with red spots. "When our hair starts changing it signifies old age or even disease, but it usually comes in strands not the whole hair."
"Listen its okay. This happens I just need to re-dye it." I murmured brushing off her concern.
"At least see the doctor." She pleaded. "You never know, and the others might consider it contagious, so its best to..."
"Oh, my god, fine I'll see the doctor." I growled.
She flinched back as I abrubtly stood. I stomped towards the door and tossed my tray in the trash. I grumbled about the 3 week delay on our package delivery due to the post being attacked some time back and all cargo ships being rerouted to the next sector while the station was rebuilt and new crew hired. Had that not happened I would have been able to touch up my roots and not have to deal with the concern and fear on my crewmates faces.
I stepped into the doctors chambers. The giant tentacle creature looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow at me.
"Yes Monique?" He asked putting the book aside.
"Hey Sniqkr," i sighed. "Ka-el-ri wants you to do an exam to make sure I'm not sick."
He moved the mass of his body towards me. "Why would she be concerned?" He asked, several of his tentacles enveloping me and starting to glow.
"Because my roots are a different color than the rest of my hair." I raised my arms above my head without being told as he almost fully enveloped my torso. At my words several smaller tentacles began combing through my hair.
"Hm, yes I see." His many eyes closed as he muttered to himself for a couple minutes before his tentacles retracted and bundled under him. "Well, your hair definitely isn't an indication of your health, but its a good thing you came in. You have a benign tumor on your right ovary that needs to be taken care of, as well as a fracture on your 5th, 6th and 8th rib that need to be mended, I'm guessing from the last attack."
"Huh..." I stood there in shock.
"You really need to see me more often." He grumbled. "The tumor itself is about the size of one of your earthly quarters, luckily it can be removed from the ovary without having to remove the whole ovary, you will make a full recovery if we get it soon."
"Y... yeah." I wrapped my arms around my middle as he turned to the computer.
"Also, you'll be going into estrus soon and your birth control is expired, so you might want to get your implant changed, but for the sake of the surgery and the tumor we will remove it and you'll need to wait on any breeding until it can be returned."
I coughed and looked at the back of his bulbous head. "And how long will that be?"
"3months." He printed out a script. "You might want to thank Ka-el-ri, and give that to your section head. Surgery is scheduled for this time tomorrow. No eating for 24 hours, no drinking for 12hrs prior to surgery."
I grabbed the offered paper and walked out. With a grimace I headed in to work. | Note: I do not know how long it takes for hair dye to fade.
One year about I was taken from Earth, and I've been in this spaceship ever since. They wanted a human to "study", although I didn't find that out until 4 months ago, when they finally decided to teach me their language. Sadly, when I asked them in their own language if I could go back to Earth, they told me I can't ever go back. It's not like this place is bad, they don't run deadly tests on me or anything, it's just so lonely and boring.
Today however, wasn't so boring, I was brought to the medical bay for a check-up, but it's been 6 hours and i'm still here. This is getting really annoying, i'm gonna ask somebody what's going on.
Doctor: Hello Mary.
Mary: Hello again, do you know how much longer this is going to take?
Doctor: I'm not sure, I just need to take your temperature again.
Mary: Again? You've taken my temperature 3 times already. Is there something that you're not telling me?
Doctor: Well... we think that you may have some sort of parasite, but all of our tests say that you're perfectly healthy.
Mary: A parasite? What makes you think I have a parasite? How could I have even gotten one?
Doctor: The captain noticed a shift in your behavior and appearance. He said you seemed slower and less motivated, and they your hair was rapidly losing it's color. We're doing all these tests because we can't figure out what's causing this.
Mary: That's why you think i'm sick? The only thing i'm sick of is this dumb spaceship.
Doctor: What do you mean?
Mary: I'm stuck in my living quarters all day with nobody to talk to except for the captain and a few other scientists, I can't even leave without someone babysitting me like i'm some toddler, stuff like that makes humans slower and less motivated.
Doctor: But what about your hair?
Mary: I dyed it before you assholes kidnapped me, and now the color is fading.
Doctor: I see, would you excuse me for one moment?
The doctor leaves, and about 5 minutes later returns with the captain.
Captain: Good news Mary, the ship is returning to Earth.
Mary: Wait, really? Does this mean you're taking me back home?
Captain: No no, not at all. You said how much you hate being alone in your living quarters, so we're returning to Earth to get you a friend.
Mary: Oh... okay...
\-=- 3 hours later -=-
Doctor: Captain, you're back. Is something wrong again?
Captain: No, everything is fine, I just wanted to thank you for helping my pet. | 2020-07-05T13:23:48 | 2020-07-05T13:16:56 | 202 | 94 |
[WP] Every person has a button they can press at night that deposits a large sum of money to their bank account. However, the first person to press it each night is horrifically killed. | Henry Cox eyed the waitress who was working behind the counter. Amelia was a little scared, if not worried. At the same time, however, she kept looking at the clock hung up by the entrance.
"Hey," he called out to her. "come here, I got a favor to ask."
"What?" she responded nervously.
"C'mon, it'll only take a sec."
She cautiously approached Henry and stood right beside him. He pointed at the seat in front of him.
"Sit 'own, I got a proposal for you."
She hesitantly sits across from him. "What do you want...sir?"
"It's not about what I want, more like what I'm about to give you."
"Sorry?"
Henry looks around, sees nobody in sight, and continues "You know about the new rule, right? The one where we get tons of money if we press the button after the first sucker presses it?"
"Yeah...and the first one who presses it dies."
"Mhm..." he calmly reaches for his pocket and pulls out the button. "See the clocks reset every midnight. Right now it's 3AM, so there's a good chance that someone's press the button."
"Why are you telling me this?" Amelia became more and more agitated as they continued on the topic of the button.
"Because I want to deposit. I'm sure you do too, right?"
She responded with a loud gulp.
Henry continued "I see you eyeing that clock every few minutes. You're thinking whether or not if it's safe to deposit, right?"
Amelia didn't respond at all. She was shaking, nervous. She had a feeling he knew what he was about to offer.
"You're a sweet girl, young and innocent...but me? Honey, I've been through shit. Too much of it, in fact. That's why I'm gonna end it all here." He places the button on the table in front of them. "Your name tag says 'Amelia'. That's a pretty name."
"T-Thank you."
"Amelia...tonight's the night I change my life. I need the money to pay off my sins. I'm in over my head with debt, so much so that I'm being threatened to go homeless if I don't pay it off soon. That's why I'm taking action. Amelia, I'm gonna press that button right now. And I might die. Or I might get paid. Either way, I'm gonna be so relieved. All that weight will be lifted off my shoulders."
"What does this have to do with me...?"
"Because I want to see you happy. If I die, you'll get the money. If I live, you'll get the money. This button has made everyone crazy. No one knows who, if anyone, has pressed the button. So why not just get a free front row seat ticket to the man who might have been the first person to press it?"
Amelia looked scared, but thoughts swirled around her head. She really liked the idea of being free of stress from this looming thought that she might die tonight, but will it be at the cost of another life? Still, it was what he wanted. Amelia felt happy to oblige to a suicidal man's wish, if it'll make her richer.
"Okay...I'll just...stay here, right?"
Henry nodded. "I hope we can both come out on top." Henry slowly brings back the button and brings it close to his chest. "This is it..."
Amelia winces and turns her head away.
**CLICK**
Silence washes over the heavy atmosphere. Amelia looks at Henry and smiles. Henry has his eyes closed tight, and looks astonished when he opens his eyes again to see Amelia's smile.
"I'm..alive! Thank God!"
"I'm so happy for you!" Amelia said gleefully. She giggled and continued "I guess, I should deposit too!" She pulls out her button and immediately clicks it.
"I'm so glad we could both come out on top." Henry smiles at her, and she smiles back.
Amelia's smile suddenly vanished when she feels something boiling within her skin. She looks at her hand and notices her veins bulging out, and her skin literally bubbling and oozing out of her bones. Her face was peeling off, and she tries her best to shriek, but her voice soon vanishes as her neck begins to tear open and her eyes simultaneously pop like grapes. She melts slowly, the skin turning into a puddle of flesh and bones, organs slowly evaporate, and her hair turns to ash.
Henry looks at the puddle, unperturbed. He grabs Amelia's button and reaches into his other pocket. Within he pulls out a separate button and pushes it. His phone then jingles soon after pressing the button. Henry checks his phone, and in bright colorful letters, he sees the following:
#**"Congratulations! Your money has been deposited! You get a bonus for being the secon...Click Here to Show More"**
Henry powers down his phone and walks away from the scene, leaving the first button he pressed behind and taking Amelia's button with him.
The next night around 1AM, Henry walks into a bar and sees a lonely bartender washing some cups. He whistles at the Bartender's direction, and he looks towards Henry's direction.
"Hey," he called out to him "come here. I've got a favor to ask." | Whiskey bottle in hand, I staggered over to my laptop set up--the recording equipment top of the line camera, and practically collapse in the chair. So comfortable, I almost fall asleep right there. Almost. I open up LiveYou, and click the record button.
"So, I'm finally doing this live stream I've always talked about. Didn't know what it would be about...but I finally do. I wanna, talk about the Buttons. You all know the ones I'm talking about."
I gestured to the button embedded into the wall, having specifically arranged for it to be in easy view of the camera. A quick glance at the bottom of the viewer count read out 6.
"So then, you all probably know about the crackpot theories. The conspiracy theorists called it 'population control.' That somewhere in the shady back rooms of our governments, they all unanimously agreed that the world's population, some 7 billion and counting, wasn't sustainable in the long term, not if they wanted to keep the balance of power to prevent societal collapse. So they banked on human greed--our need to fulfill our baser desires winning out over decency."
13 viewers, another glance told me.
"And they where right."
42 now.
"Now, it wasn't noticeable at first, nothing but a rumor that the 'security' buttons installed in every home across the globe would make you rich. Then some one tested it out--John Demamp--got over 2 million in his bank accounts. Even today you can see his Twitter and Facebook posts about how he was going to live it up..."
99.
"But he died the next day from an exceptionally violent break in."
84 viewers. Damn it.
"The culprit was caught and tried--proclaiming his innocence, but it did little to help the family's grief. His Mrs. Demamp went through his bank account to help with the funeral expenses, their newfound wealth bittersweet..."
120.
"But it wasn't there. There was no record of it **ever** being there--no depositing into the account, no trace of transferring of the money. People thought he was a complete idiot, insane even, when the story broke just a few hours later thanks to a reporter trying to get their big scoop."
310.
"And then it happened again the next day. And the next day and the next. People pressing their buttons for the sum of 2 billion dollars, or the equivalent currency. Then they die the next day, that night--just like the Demamp. Because someone else pressed that *goddamn* button!"
I slammed my fist on my desk, that it almost seemed that it had willed another 1,700 viewers. I actually wanted to smile at the thought of me going viral, but the whiskey had dulled my control over my face.
"Five years this has been going on. Five fucking years. You ever done the math? 1826 bodies. All because some asshole wanted to get rich quick. I should know. Because I pressed the button."
The viewer count skyrocketed, faster than I could believe. 42, 831. Maybe they were mesmerized by the truth. Or maybe they wanted to see someone die.
"Some of you are probably judging me. And you're right to. What I did... it can't be excused--hell, even if it was only indirect I murdered someone. But...I don't have any family, not anymore. No significant other, just a shitty dead-end job. At least no one will miss me when I'm gone. Don't look at me like that, *someone* is going to press their button. Might be you, might be someone else. Maybe they're not even watching this. But...If I can die for a reason...doing some good with it... Then it's worth it. Isn't it?"
I was consumed by pitch black a moment later, my glance at the viewer count being for naught. I quickly ran to look out my front window--the entire block was dark. I silently curse as I turned toward the kitchen.
I was greeted by a tall man in black, rope over his shoulder. Breaking out into a cold sweat during a long, tense moment, I tried to escape through the living room only to have three other men there waiting for me, a chair placed in the middle of the room. I tried to scream but I was cut off by the noose tightening around my throat, a quick stabbing pain following it almost in the same moment.
"Nothing personal, man." Just doing my job." The man whispered into my ear almost apologetically. I drifted away, my vision turning into stars.
And then black. | 2016-07-16T18:32:31 | 2016-07-16T17:34:20 | 1,306 | 47 |
[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. | "Jesus *FUCK*!" If I could gag, I would. A dead body, torn and ribboned like a frayed cloth doll dipped in scarlet lay discarded in a cheap motel room.
A woman steps out of a shower, her hair up in a towel and no other apparent form of modesty, save for the steam that rises from her skin. I, out of a shame that she didn't seeming have herself, didn't look, not that I had to- I knew who she was.
And by God, what an utter hatter she is. This one included, she's killed 32 people, each one getting more and more... exotic. Now, I have tried- I did- I tried to be the tall, scary, stoic Death that people tend to think of, but this is just horrific. Genuinely, as a man (or... whatever) who roams the fields of war and stalks the hospital wards, I have never seen such *undoing* done with such attention to detail.
"Do.. You like It? I worked Very Hard to Make this Special for Us." She said. She came around me, gently gliding her finger across my black robe, pushing in slightly to feel the contours of my bones.
"Wha- If I may be *so bold* as to ask, WHY?"
"Well, I just Wanted to See You again." She said, just barely above a whisper.
"This is too far. You know you're going to Hell for this?"
"I was going to hell anyways. But I don't have to go just yet. We can just stay here... for tonight." I try to reply but she cuts me off before I can. "Every time I see you, you only show up for a second and wander off with some poor soul!"
"Yeah, because you killed them! Because that's my job!"
She gives me a pout and pulls herself closer to me.
"Well, can't you take a break from your job for once?" She protests. "I thought Love was supposed to be able to conquer Death! For one night, can't it just be you and me?"
I look down at her for the first time tonight and shake my head.
"Why do you think I'm here to begin with?" As I point to her body, torn and ribboned on the bed. | "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.
| 2017-09-28T15:20:16 | 2017-06-07T19:31:34 | 153 | 14 |
[WP] A hero and villain are roommates and have to keep making excuses for why they need to unexpectedly go out so often. Neither knows the other is their nemesis. | *ARCH ROOMMATES IS FILMED IN FRONT OF A LIVE STUDIO AUDIENCE*
----------
INT. GARRETT AND DAVES' APARTMENT - DAY
FADE IN
Garrett enters, hauling a bag of groceries in one hand.
GARRETT: Dave? I'm back from the grocery store!
Dave is lying on the couch watching cable news. He sits up.
DAVE: Wait a minute. You were gone for four hours.
*AUDIENCE LAUGHTER*
Garrett sets the grocery bag on the counter. He looks around in a panic.
GARRET: Uh... No express lanes!
*AUDIENCE LAUGHTER*
DAVE: Huh. Did you get what we need?
Garrett pulls out the groceries one by one.
GARRETT: Let's see. Celery... Eggs... Rye bread...
He pulls out what looks like a hand-held laser gun and then quickly hides it back in the bag.
*AUDIENCE LAUGHTER*
DAVE: Wait, what was that?
GARRETT: What? What are you talking about?
DAVE: The thing in your hand.
GARRETT: Oh, this thing? (pulls out laser gun) It's a uh... price checker.
*AUDIENCE LAUGHTER*
DAVE: Huh. Does it work?
GARRETT: Oh yeah. Oh yeah.
Garrett lowers the laser gun behind the counter. There's a flash of red light and a ZAP.
GARRETT (wincing): Ooh! Ooh! My foot!
DAVE: What?! What about your foot?!
GARRETT (still in pain): It's... it's four ninety-nine.
*AUDIENCE LAUGHTER*
DAVE: Your foot is four ninety-nine?
*AUDIENCE LAUGHTER*
GARRETT: I'd better take this back.
He puts the laser gun back in the bag. He looks at the TV.
GARRETT: So, more cable news huh?
DAVE: Yeah. No games on.
Dave looks back at the TV and leans in with surprise. Helicopter footage is covering a person hanging from the top of a building. Dave hops off the couch and starts putting on his jacket and shoes.
GARRETT: Well where are you off to all of the sudden?
DAVE: You... (searching) ...forgot the milk!
*AUDIENCE LAUGHTER*
GARRETT: Oh, dang. You're right.
DAVE (walking out): Time to save the day.
Garrett rolls his eyes.
GARRETT: It's only milk.
*AUDIENCE LAUGHTER*
GARRETT: Anyways, I'll just be here, making... plans.
Garrett laughs maniacally.
DAVE: Maybe include seeing a doctor about that laugh.
*LONG AUDIENCE LAUGHTER*
Garrett puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head at Dave.
FADE OUT | Just as I put down my groceries, my SatPhone beeps. *Captain, we need your help! Doctor Doom is threatening to destroy the city tower with his death ray. Please help us!*
I groan. I’ve just gotten back to the house – how on earth am I going to explain to my roommate that I need to go out again?
Good old Dominic is probably a little suspicious already, what with my random disappearances, my pretend job at a non-existent newspaper and a 2% body fat percentage while eating seven pizzas everyday for breakfast.
*Thank god he’s so gullible.* What would a superhero be without her secret identity? Probably rich, successful, famous and adored by the world. But who wants *that*, right?
I climb seven stories up to the attic where Dominic works. We have quite a big house, and I never understood how the rent is so cheap. Dominic found it when we were friends in college. He just got lucky, I guess.
I open the door to the attic. Dominic works on a giant, metallic cylinder with dozens of lenses and levers. The end of the cylinder tapers off into an obsidian cone, which points directly out of the window at the city tower. On the cylinder is a sticker of a giant skull, with the words “DEATH” printed beside it in giant, block letters.
Dominic stares at me. I stare back.
“Dom!” I say in a totally casual high-pitch voice. “Your telescope looks great!”
*God, Dominic is so smart. He’s one of the best telescope engineer in the country, I’ve heard.*
“Uhhh,” he says. “What’s up?”
“I need to go… dry-clean… my rug.”
“Didn’t you do that last week?”
“Oh. I have many rugs,” I’m in the zone. “You know, cold floors.”
“Uh, okay cool.” Dominic flips several switches on his telescope. It whirrs to life in a high-pitched whine, shattering several glasses on the table.
“I’ll leave you to it, then. Good luck!” I quickly run down the stairs before he can respond.
*Another crisis averted,* I think to myself. *I’m really good at this.* | 2017-04-03T11:16:16 | 2017-04-03T10:38:23 | 479 | 35 |
[WP] A schizophrenic detective manages to solve cases by interrogating random inanimate objects at the scene of the crime. | "Does he lie?" asked detective Harvey.
Jack, the main suspect, watched with horror as the famed detective asked objects and pretended to discuss with them.
"He does not," answered the clock, still from the blow it suffered when Lauren hit her head against it. The bloodstain was dry and odorless, a witness of the fateful night, just like the pointers stuck at midnight.
"He loved Lauren, he mused about her when she was not in the living-room, moaned the struggles he had to keep the flame of love lit."
"Did he love her enough to not push her in a struggle?" continued Harvey, oblivious to the worried look he got, "neighbours complained about the noise they made."
"Jack and Lauren were of the loud kind. No whispered word, no inner voice. Anger and adoration deserved equal tone, and they were quite deaf I might add. I cannot help you more, I was trying to keep the pointers at a proper pace, it gets harder with time. Them being noisy was nothing new, only when she hit me with her head I came to be."
"Thank you."
Strange, thought Harvey, the cozy living-room suffered no sign of struggle except for the clock, a larger-than-life couple would have made more damage than this in a fight. And the circumstances of death did not add up with premeditation.
"Let's see..."
Minimalist room, mostly furniture of wood with a few family heirlrooms like a teddy bear, a vase and a bureau. And they stood still when he asked at random. Unsurprinsingly. Objects belonging in a remote and secluded home took the local colors and disliked intrusion. But there were ways. He turned to Jack.
Jack could not speak of the night, only repeating he did not kill her when asked. He spoke about the rest just fine though.
"Did she take good care of the furniture?"
"W...what's that for a question?" stuttered a shaken Jack.
"Just answer."
"Yes, she did."
"Did she wax the floor and the wooden table?"
"Well... yes."
"How?"
Jack exploded.
"How do you wax, dipshit? Or do you want to know what she wore, what she sang while doing it? What difference does it make?"
"The difference between you standing free to live and grieve or spend the rest of your life behind bars for the murder of your wife."
Jack stood still, catching his breath.
"She... This feels wrong. She went gradually, adding a little bit of wax, rubbing and adding more again instead of just putting it on and get it over faster. It was a routine that soothed her."
Harvey heard a sob.
"Do you miss her?" he asked the table.
"Of course I do. She could not hear us but loved all the same."
"What happened that night?"
"I slept, I'm used to the shouts, woke up with the clock and everybody else to a dead body and the police coming in shortly after. Sorry, I can't h..."
"Spare me the tears," interrupted Harvey, "you liked Lauren, all of you did. But you hate Jack, don't you?"
"She gave the asshole more credit than he deserved. let him rot," said the chair.
"But you don't know if he did it."
"Doesn't matter."
"You think Lauren, for all the difficulties they had, would want him behind bars for a murder he did not commit?"
No answer.
"Do you believe she'd want an innocent to suffer, even if he's far from an angel."
"Well, there's..." started the table.
"Shut up, now!" shouted the chair, "he does not need to know."
"What do I not need to know?"
"Not you, Jack."
"Oh, that's easy."
Harvey waved his colleagues to take the suspect outside. They went along, they knew his antics got results better than any other inspector could hope to achieve.
"He's gone now."
Silence.
"For the sake of the departed, I believe we can spare her image while still uncovering the truth."
Seconds stretched with the howling wind outside as only noise, until a meager voice broke it.
"Me."
It was the teddy bear, stuffed in a corner and watching over the room. The chair sighed and gave up protecting whatever it wished to protect.
"Lauren... she gave me a camera. She feared Jack would grow violent one day and hit her, so she hid it into me to have proof should the day come. I slept too, the camera did not."
The camera was mute, as were all objects recording what they saw with such fascination that they could not vocalize what passed in front of the lense.
"Please," continued the teddy bear, "don't tell Jack she hid a camera. She feared he could become violent, but she feared breaking his heart even more."
It was a simple model. A battery lasting for a day, just had to plug it into a computer to recharge and store the film if anything interesting happened on it.
And it did happen. Jack found the segment.
"You didn't tell me she drank."
"I don't want to remember her that way," whispered the clock.
There was no sound on the footage, nor was it needed. Lauren stumbled in the living-room, uneasy on her legs and shouting at Jack.
She stumbled. Jack tried to catch her before she fell.
She misinterpreted his gesture and tried to dodge. Her diminished reflexes made her miss the wall she tried to grab on. She fell with her temple against the clock.
She feared Jack becoming violent, she died when he tried to help her.
The teddy bear coughed.
"Please, don't tell Jack."
"I won't."
Harvey knew the truth of the fatal irony that had taken place. Only thing left was to protect what she held dear.
"Is there any way for, say, a thief to come in here at night and hypothetically plant a camera in the teddy bear?"
"I don't close well, haven't for the last decade," answered the door leading to the garden.
Well, that would be an easy cover-up. | "I can't believe you! Are you absolutely certain you want him on this case?" I said as I stormed into Captain David's office.
"You don't have much of a choice. The case had been stone cold for a week now and the Gundersons are demanding answers. You know if I can't tell them what happened to their son they will use their pull to make my life a living hell" Said David looking up at me from his desk.
"I know things have slowed down a little, but that doesn't mean you need to call in Mumbles!"
"You know he's the best chance we have. And frankly I am tired of your shit. Hopefully he will get results where you didn't. I already sent him the address, he will meet you at the scene."
"Well thanks alot Captain" I said as I slammed the door on the way out of his office.
I drove to the Gunderson estate. When I pulled up the classic Chivell was already parked in the driveway, and the mumbles was leaning against it like always talking to himself.
In a different life mumbles would be able to get away with quietly living to himself. He actually still did that for the most part. He was an antique dealer but he never seemed to make a sale. He lives in a warehouse surrounded by old extravagant furniture. He had an odd knack for solving crimes by turning up clues out of seemingly nowhere. That's what brought him here today.
I got out and called out to him "Hello Mr. Goodbody"
He looked up as if I had interrupted something. "Oh, sorry I didn't notice you there. Hello detective Brust."
"Would you like some background or are you just going to go talk to the chairs"
"Well I will go talk to the furniture, but some background would be nice"
"Get over here then"
Mumbles walked over to my cruiser as I pulled out our file.
"Victim was a twenty one year old caucasian Male. He lived out back in the pool house. We have not been able to locate a murder weapon. The apparent cause of death is stabbing but we haven't been able to locate any points of ingress or egress. Any questions?"
"What was his livelihood?"
I look up at the mansion towering over us "His parents" I way with note of disdain in my voice. "He graduated high school and immediately did nothing. From what his family said he would take a different girl back there at least every weekend or more often."
"Got it thank you detective"
"To the scene then?"
"Yes that would be wonderful"
We walked around the house and approached a decent sized beach house that was out back. I pulled out my knife and slit the police sticker over the door.
"Alright, have fun" I said
"Oh, I will" said Mumbles. He had that grin on his face like he always did.
Mumbles universally started with the sofas, he said it "gave him a better understanding of the other furniture". I for one was never really amused with him. He just walked into the predict one day. He said an armoire had sent him. Now he was the number one "detective" in the whole city.
"Perfect" mumbles said standing up.
"Perfect what?" I said
"Most of the furniture is trustworthy, except the hammock."
"What hammock and what makes it untrustworthy?"
"Well you see, most furniture doesn't have a lot of intrinsic loyalty. Only through time sitting together or in close proximity does furniture grow an attachment. Since this is a rich house most of the furniture is just happy to finally have company. The hammock on the other hand he got on a trip and was sleeping in it constantly for the last four years."
Mumbles acted like he was hearing something bent back down to the couch again. He "listened" for a moment or two then stood back up and said "correction five years".
I didn't quite know how to respond. "Well … then we should probably start questioning the chairs, this is where the body was found after all" I said.
"Great idea Detective, also do you think I could talk to the family?"
"I don't see why not Mrs. Gunderson should be here. She said she almost never leaves the first time we questioned her"
"Excellent" said mumbles as he leaned down and started whispering to one of the two chairs.
While mumbles was "talking" to the first of the two armchairs I walked outside for a smoke. This case had been driving me nuts. There was no way in or out and the weapon just seemed to disappear. Honestly, Captain David was right, I had hit a rut. If in the smallest way mumbles could help crack the case then it would be better than where we were at.
Mumbles came out of the house and gave me a quick glance. "Ready?" He said.
"Ya" I muttered as I flicked my cigarette into the heated pool between the mansion and the pool house.
We walked up to the back of the mansion and I banged on the door. "Mrs. Gunderson, are you home!"
.... | 2021-03-01T10:43:53 | 2021-03-01T10:12:52 | 126 | 77 |
[WP] Gordon Ramsay mistakenly walks into your house to film an episode of Kitchen Nightmares, and refuses to believe that you aren't a failing restaurant owner | I got home after another long day. I yawned a little, dropped my bag by the door and walked into the kitchen. After walking aimlessly over to the cupboard and getting myself a snack, I began thinking it was about time to start cooking dinner, so I quickly put some music on, and started looking for food, humming quietly to myself.
"Let's see now... red curry paste... noodles... spring onions... red pepper... coconut milk... stock.. chilli, ginger, garlic... quorn. Perfect."
I walked over to the worktop, grabbed a chopping board and began cutting up my vegetables. My spirits were lifting, and I started to sing along with the music. "Sometimes I give myself the creeps... Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me... It all keeps adding up... I think-"
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!"
I jumped and dropped the knife as a voice bellowed from behind me. I span around and came face to face with Gordon Ramsey. There was a film crew behind him. For a moment I wondered if I was still in bed, asleep, and the whole day had been a dream. Then he spoke again.
"YOU DON'T HAVE THE TIME TO STOP AND FUCKING STARE, YOU HAVE A RESTAURANT TO RUN. GET BACK TO FUCKING WORK!"
"B-b-but... th-th-this is my kitchen..." I started to protest.
"I CAN FUCKING SEE THAT YOU CRETIN! NOW WORK! GO! MUSH!"
I began to turn around and unconsciously mumbled a "Yes Chef." Then turned back. "No, hang on. Why are you here? How did you even get in?"
"I'M HERE TO TRY TO SAVE YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS, YOU UNGRATEFUL SACK OF SHIT!"
"Look, Gordon, I don't have a business. This isn't a restaurant. This is my flat."
"DON'T YOU TRY THAT SHIT ON ME... wait, what?"
"My flat, Gordon. You're in my flat."
"But... I thought..." He was silent for a moment. "Sorry, we must have gone to the wrong address. What did you say the address of your Restaurant is again?"
"I don't have a restaurant... I'm not even a chef. I don't know why you're here."
"We... uh, thought you... but..."
Eventually, the producer stepped forward. "We're filming for kitchen nightmares. I'm terribly sorry about this, I'm not sure how it happened."
For a moment I thought about what to say. Presumably they had broken into my house, but it seemed like an honest mistake. They all looked very embarrassed and confused now. I sighed. "It's ok, look, there's a corner shop just down the road from here. If you go and pick up some more ingredients for me, you're welcome to stay had have a bite to eat. I'm making Laksa."
Gordon looked up at me. "Are you sure? After all, it must have been a bit of a shock for you."
I smiled. "Sure, no worries. I'm a big fan of the show by the way." I quickly scribbled down a quick list of what I needed more of and handed it to him. "NOW GET ME THE FUCKING INGREDIENTS, YOU IDIOT SANDWICH!" I yelled, with a wink.
He grinned, and walked towards the door.
"Yes Chef." | It's tough holding a dinner party for your friends when you can barely cook. But trying to prepare food with Frankenstein's uglier Scottish cousin leaning over your shoulder is nigh on impossible. That's what I get for leaving a window open, I suppose.
As I take the chicken breasts out of the oven to inspect them, Gordon leans his face right against mine. I'm not sure if he is going to kiss me or nut me, when his eyes open wide and the insanity takes him.
"WHY DID THE FUCKING CHICKEN CROSS THE FUCKING ROAD?" He sprays my face in spittle as he asks the 'question'. I know the answer but I know better than to look clever.
"Don't...don't know chef" I squeak out, my voice cracking.
"BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T FUCKING COOK IT. Fucking hell, seriously a decent vet could still save it ."
Sweat drips off my forehead and plops onto the chicken.
"That is fucking disgusting! That is a fucking health violation." He walks out of the kitchen and enters the dining room.
"I am sorry but you are all going to have to leave, unless you want to be fucking poisoned. Get the fuck out. Now!"
"Chef!" I yell as I run in trying to salvage the dire situation "I've thrown the chicken away. They can stay, I'l do something else."
With a resentful grunt he follows me back into the kitchen.
"Alright Nick, what are you planning on cooking?" He says, rubbing his hands together.
"Uh.. beef bourguignon with a-"
"No you're fucking not." He interrupts. "We are going to simplify the menu. If you can specialise in one fucking thing you might be able to salvage this business."
"..."
"I know the area and I know for a fact there are no toastie restaurants here, and the city is gagging for a good toastie place to open. What do you think?"
"Uh..."
"Exactly. Right lets get to it. We are going to need cheese and tomoato and a little bit of bread. This is going to be fucking fantastic."
At that moment, a team of men and women rush into my kitchen and begin redecorating. Ten sleek new toastie machines soon take up all of my work space.
Neon signage goes up outside my small house - *Toni's Toasties*
"Uh Chef, my name's Nick."
"Doesn't fucking matter - toasties are all about sex appeal."
At this point I give up and join my friends in the other room.
| 2016-06-29T01:12:15 | 2016-06-29T00:16:18 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] You go to clean dust off the needle of your record player and it catches in your fingerprint. There was no mistaking what the speakers played | "Natalie Rosenthal."
That was it. The record player, running across my unique, one-of-a-kind fingerprint, only said "Natalie Rosenthal."
It didn't matter which finger, it didn't matter where on the finger, it didn't matter if I played it forwards or backwards.
"Natalie Rosenthal."
I started Googling the name, and there were a lot. Many, many people named Natalie Rosenthal. I had no idea what she meant to me, but I needed to find the right one and discover the secret behind our connection.
After years of searching, I finally found a clue. There was a Natalie Rosenthal born within fifteen minutes of me. She lived in Minnesota. Most importantly, when I contacted her, she didn't act like what I was saying was crazy.
I flew out to meet her. She was beautiful - the most amazing-looking woman who had ever graced my vision. When she spoke, it was like listening to honey pour from the mouths of angels.
We had so much in common. Shared interests, shared beliefs, but enough differences to be eminently fascinating to each other.
When I produced the record player from my bag, we both held our breath. The magnitude of the possibilities involved was too much to consider, and the way we already felt about each other made it impossible to imagine the possibility of any but one outcome.
We played her fingerprint, and it said my name. Somehow, our perfect mate was right there at our fingertips - if you'll pardon the pun - the entire time.
This discovery led to a revolution in the way humans created relationships. Abuse, domestic anger, petty fighting - all things of the past. Crime dropped precipitously. Children found themselves born to increasingly idyllic households. All because I had found my Natalie.
Boy was my wife pissed. | Eric had just finished cleaning out his uncaring grandmother's house when he noticed a small brown box with his name on it
"Huh? why would that old bat leave *me* anything?" he said as he pulled the old record player out of the box
He ran his hand across the strange runic markings on the ancient looking thing before going to rub some dust off the needle
He reeled back when the needle seemed to sharpen and flick across his finger
"Ahk! Fucking thing cut m- Wait...what's that sound?"
*Du dud du*
"No...It cant be"
*Oooh*
Eric fell to his knees and screamed out to the heavens as the words began to burn into his mind...
*We're no strangers to love*
"NO...**PLEASE!**"
*You know the rules and so do I...*
He collapsed onto the floor, his brain melting away as the tune still played on.
(This is my first writing thing, constructive criticism appreciated!) | 2015-10-20T10:11:55 | 2015-10-20T09:55:30 | 367 | 37 |
[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????
| "But... you're the Devil. *Everyone* wants to read about you! Readers love you because you're so mythical and powerful -- you're the **embodiment** of evil. Plus, you're pretty cool. Some people even think you're *kind of hot*," said the writer, tugging at his shirt collar. The Devil let out an exasperated sigh but subconsciously moved his hand down toward his rippling red abdominals.
"Writers," the writer continued, "Can use you as a clever metaphor or uh... or as an *allegorical device*. Then maybe -- probably -- they'll try to subvert the meaning of your presence," said the writer. "It's so *easy* to tack on a last sentence twist, when writing about a fallen angel."
"But surely it's **boring**," said the Devil, rolling his eyes and snorting flames. "Every damned prompt. Me. Everything that can be done with me, has been done.Try something original, something based on reality maybe. A prompt with a little *soul*."
They'd already been arguing for hours, and had made little progress. The Devil, and the writer.
"People don't want reality. They want escapism. They want to imagine forces of Good and Evil duelling over control of existence."
"Then have God, or Jesus, in the prompt. I'm fed up of having my name cheapened."
"God? Hm, that wouldn't really work. This is Reddit - we have a lot of Atheist-Lite's around here. To them, God is a pretty disliked figure."
The Devil's mouth dropped open. "How disliked , exactly?"
"Oh, *pretty* disliked," said the writer, with a little laugh.
The Devil's strawberry face grew pale. "More than me?" he asked, in no more than a whisper.
"Sure."
"Oh."
"Hey, don't feel bad, big guy. They like to blame *everything* on God. Well, everything **bad**. And to them, there's a whole lot of bad in the world."
"But... that's thanks to *me*."
"They don't think so."
"So they blame God."
"Look, it's nothing personal. It's just cool to blame God. It makes religion look stupid. It's edgy stuff. It makes them feel superior - don't worry about it. You don't want to develop a complex. This isn't even about God - it's about *you!* Let's forget about it, we're going off on a tangent."
"No, it's too late to forget about it. I'm going to teach them all a lesson they'll never forget."
"Oh?"
"I'm going to retire. No more bad. No more death. Soon, they'll have nothing to blame God for. Who will they throw their misplaced misery and project their self loathing at then? They will only have themselves!"
"Oh boy..."
| 2017-01-10T09:08:51 | 2017-01-10T09:03:07 | 1,433 | 228 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | The blood started the ooze down the wall where it was splashed in my frenzied killing of the mother. Her delicious screams still echoed in my mind, appeasing the voices that chattered at the edge of my skull. Sweat and the scent of her perfume teased my nostrils and I buried my face in her hair.
On the floor her husband's body lay spread eagle, open at the throat. I enjoyed his death far more because he fought back. I always like it when they fight.
The children huddled in the corner, their eyes wide with terror. They would live, but it wouldn't be a life for them. I would always be there in their dreams, in their dark corners and their back alleys. Eyes in the darkness, watching. Watching.
I heard footsteps downstairs. Heavy footsteps. I thought I'd gotten the adults.
A door opening, the clink of bottles and then a slam. A rustling bag and the hollow echoes of full cans bouncing off one another.
I took up my knife. There was still work to do. Father wouldn't be pleased leaving work undone. I stalked downstairs quietly, like he'd taught me. There was so much left to do now that I hadn't planned for.
I stalked through the main floor, my sense tingling with every step. I hunted. I crept and I crept, but no one was there.
Then I heard it. A voice from the basement. Light seeped out from under the door. Male, young. Teenager probably. Good. They put up a good fight. Father would be pleased.
I opened the door slowly and listened. It didn't seem like he heard me. I took the steps slowly, one at a time, so not to alert him.
The basement smelled. It smelled *bad*. Like the barn after a long winter when Father made me clean it with my hands for misbehaving. There was trash. Everywhere. Empty pizza boxes. Cans. Bottles. Bags of chips and candy. Dirty laundry and a pile of blankets.
*Who could live like this?* I wondered. Killing them would be a mercy.
I came upon him, clicking away on a keyboard. He was engrossed in what he was doing on his computer. Little figures flitted across the screen like ballet dancers. Or fighters. I liked fighting.
I watched. I watched longer than I should have. I couldn't comprehend it. This person, this young man, was sitting in his filth, completely ignorant of what I'd done. He hadn't heard anything, seen anything, *smelled* anything.
I realized too soon he was watching me.
"Yeah?"
I didn't understand he was talking to me right away.
"What do you want?" he asked, annoyed.
"I...I...I..." I stammered. I thought Father had beaten that out of me. Now it came rushing back.
"I'm too busy fucking people up to deal with this." He turned back around and went back to his game.
"I'm here...I'm here because Father sent me," I finally blurted, "he sent me to punish your family."
Not even turning around, he waved his hand dismissively behind him.
"DON'T CARE!"
"But...but...but.." I couldn't understand it. This person, this manchild, wasn't afraid. He didn't even seem to be concerned that I was there.
"I. DON'T. CARE."
"But your parents.....I killed them..." I was at a loss, words tumbling from my slack mouth.
"DOOOOOOOOOOOOON'T CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARE!"
"PAY ATTENTION TO ME!" I bellowed. I made him flinch. It looked like his figure on the screen had died. I got excited.
He slammed his hands down on the desk and turned around angrily. Suddenly I was not excited.
"DO YOU SEE WHAT YOU HAVE DONE YOU IDIOT?! I'M DEAD NOW AND I'M NO WHERE NEAR A RESURRECTION SITE. THERE'S NO HEALERS IN MY PARTY AND I HAD AN EPIC ITEM. I LOST IT NOW. GO AWAY." He turned back around in a huff.
"I'm sorry," I looked at my feet, ashamed and embarrassed, "I....I'll go now."
I went upstairs and walked out the door to my truck. That night still haunts me. I'm not sure what ever happened to him, but that kid in that basement is still with me in my dark corners. He stares at me out of the dark. I hear his voice whispering to me...
"dooooooooon't caaaaaaare".
| Just 20 more minutes, I think as I stare at the clock. The hand slowly moves around it. I feel like the clock is defying me. The hand moves, and stops, and moves, and stops. Why can't it just go faster? *Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang!* Wow. Someone in the woodworking shop is definitely overdoing it. The teacher drones on and on about the Civil War. I don't care. That was 150 years ago. Who gives a shit about that right now? I wanna get back and play League of Legends with my freends. We have a cool new comp we are going to try, with a fast push that should take down three towers before 15 min.
I hear a scream. Someone is definitely having a bad day. There's another bang noise. I don't care. I'm sick of this place. I look longingly outside. It's a beautiful blue day. I wonder what's going on in the woodworking shop. It's unusually loud.
Suddenly, the loudspeaker goes on. "We have a situation happening. Everyone please remain in your rooms. The police will be arriving shortly. Please be calm and do not panic." The room promptly starts panicking. The history teacher stops droning, for once. "Everyone stay calm," he says. "I'm going to go see what's happening." Right outside the room is a loud bang, followed by a thud. Everyone freezes. One kid goes and throws himself against the door, bracing it against whatevers outside.
This is pretty sweet. We don't have to hear about a boring lecture for once. I think there's a school shooting going on though. I should probably try to survive or something. I look around for somewhere to hide, or maybe a weapon. Hmm. I don't find anything. The guy bracing the door yells to help him brace it. Fuck that. That sounds dangerous.
Some girl is trying to get a window open. If we werent on the third floor that might be a good plan. I watch her curiously as she fumbles with some simple latches in her panick. Shes kinda cute. Another guy goes and helps brace the door.
Bang bang bang. Bullet holes rip through the door. The two boys bracing it fall to the ground bleeding and probably dying. Yeah. Dumb plan guys. Everyone screams, other than me. I chuckle and know theres nothing I can do. I'll either die or I won't.
My friend Marty steps through the door holding an AK47. I know Marty. He's an intense dude, a little offputting. He's a real good AD carry though in League, so I like him. "Hey Marty what up dats some nice DPS u got there man" I say. He seems a bit startled. "Thanks," he says. "Did I tell you about our new idea for a League comp man? We need you to play Ashe and initiate for us." He seems a bit surprised. He replies, "Yeah, okay. I'm kinda doing some shit right now though. Do you know where Mr. Thompson is? That guy's a dick." I tell him "I think room 207?" Everyone is looking at the two of us like we are crazy. A girl is crying. Many are cowering on the floor. Marty says "I checked. He's not there." Thinking quickly, I reply, "He probably fled outside. If you run he might not get away." He replies, "Good call man. See ya online later."
Yeah, right man. The cops are gonna get him for sure. I sigh. We are gonna need a new AD carry. | 2017-05-05T09:18:35 | 2017-05-05T08:06:22 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] "And that, class," concluded the professor, "is why humanity is the most peaceful, reasonable, cooperative, and overall docile species in all the universe. Any questions?" You, the only human in the classroom, raise your hand. | "You mean in recent years correct?" Aisling asked as soon as her hand had risen into the air, not even waiting for the professor to call on her. "Correct professor?" She repeated herself after a moment of silence, bright and startling green eyes that bore into the professor's own red bug like pupils. Her hand was shaking from where it was still raised in the air, a nervousness permeating her body. She didn't want to report this professor for breaking the treaty, she actually liked this one, but as the only human in this class, *~~in this school~~*, she had a duty to dispel any potential misinformation.
Another beat of silence, she could feel the eyes of the entire class on her now, before her professor spoke again. "Ah but of course and in a relative manner as well considering the....the uh recentness of humanity on a universal scale." Aisling lowered her hand as the professor spoke, the nervousness that had once been hers now transferring to his voice. "Now students please turn to Chapter 19 in your books and read quietly until the bell." Her professor barely managing to get the words out before he slumped down in his seat behind his desk. She did feel bad for him, after all it couldn't be easy to teach under the new treaty guidelines but humanity had been determined to be represented as equally and fairly as any other species, even when in cosmic terms they were so young and new. She knew how her classmates felt about her, felt about her species, felt about their struggles. They thought it was cute or in some cases pathetic. Aisling was determined to prove them wrong. She was determined to show them that humanity was not to be discredited, that no matter how small or young they saw humanity as she would show them their ferocity.
Aisling opened up her book, her tablet at the ready and began to take notes, not on the subject but on the creatures around her. | 'what are you basing that on' I say
the professor said from watching earth media. it is full of cooperation and love, peaceful conflict resolution and acceptance of diversity.
So I ask when they first started noticing earth media. he says roughly around the equivalent of earth year 2073.
I smile inside knowing the full story. humans discovered aliens in the year 2054, but we knew they didn't see us yet. all our radio and TV signals we made before that barely left the solar system before they became totally degraded and unreadable.
So humans started sending media signals into space using high powered, compressed laser beams. signals that would travel hundreds of light years and still be readable. but we picked only the media that made us look good. no news, no bad stories, no violence, no crime. just saccharine sweet pablum.
now the alien collective thinks we aren't a threat. we slowly study their defenses and learn what resources we can steal while they give us full access to everything convinced we aren't a danger.
according to headquarters we make our move soon. | 2021-11-27T11:58:56 | 2021-11-27T10:05:21 | 137 | 65 |
[WP] Theorising that so-called "life-force" or "souls" is actually just the electricity coursing through the nerves of living things, you try to sacrifice a battery to a demon. | "Asha kosh, Mo degga be-ra. Come forth, and feast on the offering"
The ritual was complete. Not longer after, I heard the telltale crumble of the demon entering our realm.
"Master." I said, kneeling before him.
"Sarah, my most humble servant. What offering have you for me today?"
This was it. Fly or fall.
"Master I have prepared you a delicacy. A beast of pure energy, taken all the way from the land of the mart of the wall. It is called... The battery."
I lifted up the blanket that had been covering my "gift" to the demon. The demon would trade good favours and magic for the life force I could bring him. If the energy of a battery would count then I was in for an easy ride moving forward.
"Ah." Said the demon, "Well this is uh... Sarah I don't..."
I was losing him. I had to think fast.
"Does my gift displease the master? I will cut my wicked tongue from my mouth for suggesting it."
I reached for a knife I had laid out earlier. The demon put his hands up
"No no, it's... Ah geez, it's fine. No - you are a good servant, and your gift is appreciated."
I looked at him expectantly, putting as much eagerness into the look as I could muster.
"Oh of course, " he said and timidly lifted the battery between his enormous thumb and pointer finger. "I will... Devour the life force from this uh... Beast"
Slowly he placed it on his tongue and bit down. With every crunch he winced slightly more, though he was clearly trying to contain it. Eventually he gave a final and painstaking swallow.
"Ah heck. That was... It was a superb gift, thank you Sarah."
"But master, that is not all. This is but a single youth from the battery clan. There exist batteries that are double, even triple in size. You can have your fill of them"
"No no no, Sarah that will not be necessary. It sounds uh, risky - and I need you alive, so bring me the soup of Campbell and the legendary puffs of cheese you have so diligently provided."
"No risk is too great for you, Master. I will summon you once more in a three morrows, and this will look like a light snack next to the feast you shall have."
The demon sighed, and resigned himself to dealing with it in three days time. "Excellent, my most humble servant. For now I must go and... Process your gift."
The next moment he was gone. It had worked. | the Flames came from the ground in a great thunderous sound, the room lit red by the light, shadows dancing across the back wall of the room, the fire slowly began to fade, only to reveal the beast!
John looked puzzled, as he looked down at a 4 foot tall demon, it looked to be a short middle aged man, but it had red skin and tiny nub horns, and he kinda looks like he let him self go abit, but was still dressed nice, wearing a nice suit and fedora.
"So why have you summoned me Kiddo?" the demon asked in a New Yorker accent.
"I'm H..h.here to trade a soul in return for power..." John answered.
"Ah I see! good good, you wouldn't believe the electric bills in Hell, can't get my kids to turn off the lights when they exit a room, it's killing me, anyway, so you going to let me see the soul?"
The demon asked leaning forward a little eyebrows raised.
John reached down into his pocket, pulling out a double A battery.
the demon looked, leaning in, his point nose touching the edge of Johns had while he had both eyes focused on the battery.
"What the hell is this!" the demon Exclaimed jumping back.
John began to answer " it's a double A---"
" I know what it is retard, it was a rhetorical question." the demon said, cutting John off.
"I was expecting Human soul energy, you know the good shit, I would have even settled for a cow, but Nooo you think you're funny bringing me a double A battery, here I grant you the power to go screw yourself." the demon shoved his middle finger right in Johns face, and in one bright flash of light and fire the demon vanished.
| 2017-07-02T00:42:49 | 2017-07-01T21:37:47 | 72 | 37 |
[WP] Theorising that so-called "life-force" or "souls" is actually just the electricity coursing through the nerves of living things, you try to sacrifice a battery to a demon. | The time was 2:50 am when I finished scrawling the runes around the perimeter of my scarlet pentagram. They looked a bit like shit and i almost ran out of goat blood. I had rushed so that I could perform the ritual precisely at 3. When the barrier between our world and that of the damned is at it's thinnest.
Finally, I would witness the power of the underworld. A dream I had lusted after since childhood. And the object of my desire, that one whose very name stills my heart. The most vicious, malicious spirit to ever spill blood in our realm, mephistopholese himself. He would be just a few feet from me, here in my living room.
Now my, shall we say, fascination with the powerful and ruthless might be a bit unhealthy, but I'm no fool. I would never have performed such a ceremony without protection. So I slipped on my goggles and finger condoms, then grabbed the cylinder of salt and poured it around myself in a circle . If I wanted to keep all of limbs attached I knew I could not cross this crystaline border.
The final step was the sacrifice. An offering to lure my dark messiah into my home. I was planning on sacrificing a goat, but had only bought one, and by the time I had drawn the bloody pentagram perfecttly, which took several attempts, the goat had already bled out. If it had just kept still...
No matter, I removed the battery from my car and placed it in the pentagram. I had done the math, and a car battery possesses roughly the same amount of electricity as a goat, and many demons actually prefer the taste.
Now at 2:59, I knelt in my white circle of safety, adjusted my condoms, and recited the Latin verses necessary to open an energy line to the other side, then said his entire name.
Suddenly my vision flashed, smoke filled the room in mere seconds. I heard my windows shatter and the next thing I knew I was pinned to the ground by a SWAT agent in a gas mask, surrounded by his coworkers.
"What is this!?" I barked between coughs from the teargas. "What's happening"
"Your going to jail, dirtbag", he relied
"For what?"
"Uh...", he looked around the room for a second, then cuffed me. "Salt and battery". | Obviously I've made mistakes in long life, I'll grant you that. But for the life of me, I never imagined that these humans are this fucking stupid!
There I stood, middle of a damn summoning circle, some goofy haired human stood there with a single D battery in his outstretched hand.
This little bitch of a goatsee bastard is all like
"I have a soul to trade!"
An us Demons dont think really highly of ourselves but this clown looks up at me, im standing like seven feet above his fucking head! Looks up at me and I swear to dirty old Lucy! This monkeyass lanky little tit drinking bitch is like completely sure I'm gonna trade him some bargain for a goddamned fucking D battery..
An I'm kinda thrown off, I'm like..
"Is that a fucking D battery?"
An shit face is like.
"What? Noooo?" An then he laughed, trying to play it off, as if he wasn't pissing himself. Actual urine running down his leg.
I'm just like.
"I can fucking see duracell on the fucking label bro!"
An lil skipper is pale as a fucking blanket of snow, like 9th circle white!
Tears running from his eyes, he looks up at me "I was just testing a scientific theory?"
Well fuck me if I wasn't pissed!
Little shit disturbs my weekend off .. an I have to let him go cause we are on the same side of the game.
Fuck.. ING.. rotted .. | 2017-07-01T22:32:50 | 2017-07-01T20:06:58 | 35 | 24 |
[WP] You, an all-powerful villain, managed to defeat the child of prophecy. The problem is he's literally a child. You now turn your eyes towards the gods who sent the poor soul against you. | “Put down your weapon boy.”
Before my throne was a human boy. Armor two sizes too big to him and a sword he can’t even get a grip on. He was shaking so much, both his armor and his teeth were clattering. Tears seems endless as it poor out of the child’s eyes. And this boy was to be the “child of prophecy” that will slay me.
Damn those gods, either their desperation have given them false pride or delusions. Sending a boy who don’t even have a hair on his chin to kill me! Me, who drowned the whole world into the sea of chaos! Me, who made the earth choke from the blood of my enemies! ME, WHO SLAUGHTERED THE ELDEST ONES IN A SINGLE DAY!
I slammed my fist onto the arm of my throne, making a spiderweb of cracks where my fist impacted. The boy let out a fearful scream and he drop the sword as if it was burning him. I sighed, dragging my hand across my face. That wasn’t for him but he still took it as it was. This wasn’t the hero that was supposed to kill him.
I wanted the hero to see all of the atrocities I have committed but not allow it to harden his heart. Despite the cruel world I made that he lives him, he would treat friend and foe with the same respect and kindness not only in life but in death. I wanted a pure-heart human to kill me, not a snot-faced boy.
I rose from my throne and made my way to the boy. For me it was a few seconds but judging by the fear on his face it was eons for him. I reach out for the boy. Instead of killing him like he thought I would, I reached for his sword and examined it. This sword was blessed by Aversh but these blessing are weak. I should know, I broke her strongest. Balling my hand into a fist, the sword shattered in my grasp. The boy gasped as he saw it.
I looked down at the boy. “How old are you boy?” He didn’t respond. His vacant eyes stared back at me. I spoke louder. “YOUR AGE, BOY?” That snap him out of it. “Ni-Nine.” He stuttered. Nine, huh. He will need years to became the hero I desire. But first he will need a proper sword.
I clenched my fist and allowed my magic to do the rest. I swung, my magic forming a sword in my grasp. The design was simple but the sword blade was formed like dragon scales and was darker than night itself and the hilt was the color of blood. I looked at it, such a sword wouldn’t be fit for a hero of prophecy. Thinking of goodness in my mind I reformed the sword. Gone was darker blade and the blood hilt, now the sword just glow a gentle soft gold. One swipe could cut grimmore’s feathers like butter.
Perfect.
I handed him the sword, confusion overtaking fear as he took it from me. He looked at the sword than look back at me. He opened his mouth to say ‘why?’ I responded “In 25 years time, I will expect you to use that sword to kill and I will kill you in turn. Now you leave and become a hero worthy of me. Such is your fate.” I turning my back to the boy and started to walk back to my throne when his voice stopped me.
“I thought you are evil, th-that’s what they told me, so why aren’t you killing me?” I didn’t need a lot of time to answer. It come easy to me. “Back when I was human, in my youth. I heard stories of a hero’s glory. I heard everything under the sun. Unlike your gods boy, I know what a true Hero is.” With that I snapped my fingers and teleported the boy to the farthest resistance camp. That should give him enough opportunities to grow strong.
I sat back on my throne with a sigh. Dealing with children wasn’t never my strong suit.
25 years until the boy becomes a man and slays me. 25 years until Good wins over Evil. But now I need to kill who ever thought it would be a good idea to sent a Nine year old after me. I sighed again, I can’t get a break around here.
At least the end is in sight now. | "What the fuck"
"Sorceress, we've been ex-"
"*What. The. Fuck.*"
"Your monstrous end had to come at so-"
"Don't.. You dare. Speak to me with that tone. You have no moral high ground here. A child, you sent to kill me, a child." She said gesturing to the boy sobbing in the arms of one of her assistants, Throg, scraggly dwarven man, not the smartest but unmatched in decor and a heart of gold. "What do you have to say to me in your defense?"
"Excuse us, we overestimated the literacy of farmers."
Her fingers itched and crackled with primordial energy, she could kill them all if she wanted to "You have my attention"
"We do not control the ebb and flow of the universe any more than you, we merely try and often fail to act as its voice. What we know is that your paths are intertwined and that there was no later date to bring you together. What we know is what we wrote of: A child of prophecy to conquer the known world, a child of prophecy to lead it. What we know is why you would refuse to kill the boy." She looked at the axe in her hand, it was so small, how could one be so stupid to rely on a trinket like this to kill the most powerful sorceress the world has ever known? Only one has ever come close, Lily, her battering ram, her strength and simple manner of speech expertly masked an acute understanding of prophecy, she would have understood what the gods were saying.
"You employ and deploy a simple farmboy to end my reign and now you torment me with these memories, why? What is this meant to accomplish?"
"A reminder."
Her thoughts returned to Lily, they found each other in a prison camp, one as a guard, one as an inmate. It was a shock at first, the guard has never seen one before, but Lily explained the plight on her people and her unique appearance being due to the forced extinction of her culture and traditions, a vile act committed by the guard's own employers. It took time and research and questioning but Lily's words carried more and more weight with every entry, every passing comment. It was a violent night, she still flinches at the memory of the atrocities she committed. For 10 years they travelled together, leaving retribution in their wake everywhere they went, at whatever cost. The allies they gathered and the skeletons they made founded the world they all now tread upon, Lily was always the more effective talker, speaking of creating a better world than the one they found themselves in. She turned her attention toward the boy once again, his eyes, bloodshot, still watery, green, innocent, familiar. "He's a farm hand, what does he know of managing trade and border disputes?"
"Only what he is taught"
The words stung in her ears, they'd been spat at her enough times by the arcane scholars she tried and often failed to learn from. She gently set the axe aside and approached him, slowly, gingerly, and as she did he recoiled. "I will not hurt you," She insisted, "I refuse to hurt you." she reassured. "You stood against insurmountable odds, you already tread farther and overcame more than any other would dare or bother. In time you will rule in my place, but first I must teach you how."
Pleased, the gods one by one faded away, the prophecy was nearly complete. | 2021-02-21T23:22:54 | 2021-02-21T20:02:07 | 38 | 18 |
[WP] You know the secret identity of every hero and villain, How? They show you, as your a shapeshifter employed to impersonate them so both identities can be seen at the same place, same time. However none know your true identity. | The doorbell rang. When Timothy Reid went to meet the stranger, two very special men stood opposite from each other. Timothy was in his mid thirties, a rather boring attorney by day, a gangster by night. Not just any gangster, but a greatly feared villain, successful at evading both the police and a number of heroes.
The man on the other side was harder to describe. He could have been anywhere between twenty and forty, his eyes old, but his body heavy and strong like a bull. Nonetheless, when he moved to shake the villains hand, he moved like a dancer, graceful and quick. A soft smile flashed over his lips.
"Hello." He said.
"Come in." Timothy moved to the side to let the stranger enter. And in that short moment he looked away, he noticed that he could not remember what his opposite looked like. However remarkable the stranger was, he was just as forgettable. "What is your name?"
"Timothy Reid." The stranger answered. For in that second that the door closed behind him, he had transformed. The real Timothy wanted to respond, but the impersonator cut him off. "Neither of us have the time for pleasantries and I think it's rather obvious that I'm not going to tell you anything about me. Sign the contract and be on your way."
"I'm not sure you want to talk that way with me."
"I can talk with you any way I want to. See, Timothy, I deal with a lot of clients like you. Similar problem, similar power, similar lust for control. Do you really think I would walk into anybody's home without security protocols? No. *I'm* pretty sure you don't want to find out what they look like. Sign the contract. 500$ an hour. It's the same for everybody. Deal with it."
Timothy Reid grumbled, but he was smart enough to know what battles to fight. He knew this wasn't one of them. He needed this man. "You know who I am? What I act like? What businesses I run? Who to trust? We haven't spent a minute together and you are to take over my life for 12 hours!"
"My dear Timothy, the spent the last two weeks with you. I know everything I need to. Now go. I will meet you in a couple hours." | The first two that came to me I thought was just a coincident. Like I run and own a multinational company chances are two people would be connected by my company. But when the fifth came to hire me as a shapeshifter it started getting insane. Now I've been hired by almost all superheros and villains beside one of each and all of them are directly connected to my business or me. Almost 70 percent of them are my employees and the other thirty are either business partners or close friends. I do find it funny when I have a meeting schedule with a superhero and a super villain and they both cancel because of something coming up and then I can almost always flick in the news and see them fighting on 5th Avenue. Now it's time to meet the last super villain and then later today the last super hero.
I was not expecting the two biggest names in super hero and villain work to be these two. My own to children my daughter Suzy is the world's most feared villain and her twin brother Lucifer the most revered hero. Now I have the awkward decision to make tell them who I am and what to do or to pretend to be them. Though I could just ground them for all enernity like come on you are both twelve, didnt tell me you had powers, and started trying to destroy and or save the world. Though it may be problematic with my wife being each other theirs head assistant. | 2020-10-19T08:45:39 | 2020-10-19T08:03:28 | 94 | 17 |
[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. | “Look, if you're so mad about it, the offer to play Katamari still stands.” Selina looked away from her monitor briefly to call back over her shoulder.
“Oh, brilliant idea!” God remained focused, clicking four or five times in quick succession, pausing, tutting, and then clicking a few more, “Fool me once, shame on you. I've already lost the dinosaurs to that infernal game.”
“Hey, any creature that can't withstand being forced into a compact ball and shot into space isn't worth your time.” Selina gesticulated wildly with one hand, the other three still made easy work of anything Civilization had to offer.
God, through a feat of pure sullenness and strength of will, somehow managed to hunch over even more. His eyelashes fluttered against the screen and his beard obscured almost all of the keys on the keyboard. It was not a major obstruction, God was mistrustful of hotkeys.
A head came into God's vision from the left, and sharply departed.
“Me damn it, Rocco, no Me damn cheating!”
Rocco span in his chair to face God, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, and a half grin on his face.
“Okay, firstly, I've finished my turn. Secondly, that 'Me damn' thing was cute once, maybe twice, but it's wearing mighty thin now.” Rocco counted off each point on his divine fingers in a manner that God Almighty found a trifle annoying. “And third, why would I cheat by looking at your screen? We've got warp speed and teleportation, God, what do you got?”
“Well...” Very slowly and deliberately God moved the mouse to the top left-hand corner in order to view the technologies tree, “Let's see here... Well, it looks like people have figured out that turning a camera around is a neat way of taking a photo of your face.”
Giggles and snorts rose up around the room. God grunted defiantly, hoping that His luminescent beard hid the redness of His cheeks. Suddenly an elated voice cried out from the far end of the room.
“I've done it! Meaning of life discovered, I win!”
Swiping His keyboard off the desk and banging one heavenly fist on the oak panelling, the now vengeful God rose to his feet, all the while adjusting his toga which was beginning to ride a touch.
“This is ridiculous!” He bellowed in the ethereal LAN room, “Your people have achieved ultimate enlightenment, and mine are going into a frenzy about what colour a fucking dress is! I've had enough, it's time for something a little different...”
God turned to Selina. He was now a mischievous God, a twinkle in his eye, as Selina began to comprehend. She inched forwards in her wheely office chair.
“You mean...”
“I do. Let's go Old Testament. Boot up Katamari.” | They had been playing for nearly 14 billion years now and God had barely advanced his Humans enough to begin exploring their solar system. The other gods had already started transmitting their culture across the cosmos. So much so that the god Marlinius and his race of gorlarmi had completely dominated Roman culture on Earth, just one of many human cultures to unwittingly succumb to their enemy's influence.
God was more than a little upset to see that none of the other races wanted to adopt his Human's predisposition for mutilating their genitals. Tullicthu and its cultistians on the other hand had been attempting to be diplomatic with the lowly Humans. God hadn't been very happy with Tullicthu since that last time he wiped out his bad-ass race of lizard people with a giant space rock.
After this, God did not want anything to do with the other races. He was a bit of a sore loser. He even had the Humans put up nuclear power plants all around the planet, as well as detonating several nuclear bombs, just to keep Nexu and her thetian's away. Everyone knows thetians are allergic to radiation.
And it was just plain common sense to keep as far away as possible from Marlinius since his idea of a good time involved a cup plague and two teaspoons of mass extinction. Yes, indeed, God thought his fool-proof plan of creating a hardy, adaptable, and curious species would have been a no-brainer for this game but things had panned out about as well as the multiple times he had sent down great prophets to try to get the humans to stay on track.
God had been thinking long and hard and decided that he'd been attempting a scientific victory for far too long, and even if he had to go down the victory list, he was going to win this, so he decided to turn all of his, and subsequently humanity's, efforts towards a domination victory.
.
If you disliked this story, you can be sure to avoid more of my literature [here.](https://np.reddit.com/r/KyronWight/) | 2016-04-09T07:01:52 | 2016-04-09T07:01:46 | 336 | 63 |
[WP] Stopping time is commonplace among society. One day, you ask a coworker about a task that is assigned and you know he is going to stop his time to research and complete. After the question is asked, he appears incredibly aged and war warn. You ask what the hell he just went through. | Ever get a song stuck in your head, and you just can't get it out? And thinking about other songs just seems to make the one in your head louder? And the only way to possibly get it out of your head is to just listen to it on full-blast?
Andy is like that with puzzles and questions. At our weekly pub quiz, he gets incredibly antsy just waiting the five minutes for the answers to be read; we really just bring him along because he is an absolute trivia *machine*. He'll obsess over little things until they drive him absolutely bonkers. Don't even get me started on how he acts with physical puzzles, like a rubik's cube. And he totally abuses his time stopping abilities because of it.
We all know he does it, even though it's fairly rude to do it unannounced. I don't think I've stopped time since I was a teenager, but Andy probably pauses everything at least twice a week. We'll all be hanging out in the office and someone will ask Andy a question, and then a second later a full beard has sprouted from his chin and he's wearing completely different clothes. But he always manages to find the answer we need even without computers (which won't function with time frozen).
"Andy, could you stop whistling?" I asked. My project was due by close of business today, and I was nowhere close to done. And hearing the melody to 'walking on sunshine' on repeat wasn't helping.
"Yeah, whatever," he grunted back. The office finally fell silent, and I went back to my work. Then he began drumming his fingers on his desk, somehow even *louder* than his whistling. And still the same damn song.
"Andy, *please*!" Instead of stopping, he started thumping his foot to the beat too.
*That's it*. I called out to the coworker on the other side of my cubicle. "Oh man! Hey, Kara, come check this out!" On my computer, I pulled up a Wikipedia page. "Have you ever heard of this thing? It's called the '[Voynich manuscript.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Voynich_manuscript)'"
Kara came and read over my shoulder. Her smile indicated that she knew exactly what game I was playing. "Wow!" Her voice was full of faux enthusiasm. "That's amazing. And no one knows what it says?"
Andy peaked over the side of his cubicle. "What're you guys looking at?" he asked.
"Nothing," I replied in my most nonchalant tone. "My friend sent me a link to this crazy book. Apparently it's written in some unknown language and no one has ever been able to translate it. It has all these pictures of plants and animals, but it's like this huge unsolved mystery."
"Huh." He disappeared back behind his cubicle wall. I mouthed a silent 'thank you' to Kara.
"Man, I wish I knew what this said..." I told Andy. "Don't you?"
"It's a hoax," Andy growled. He was no longer in his cubicle, but standing right behind me. The scraggly beard on his chin covered his shirt's collar, and his eyes were tired and bloodshot. And from the stale scent of body odor coming off of him, it had been quite a while since he showered. "The whole thing was a prank that Georg Baresch was playing on a nobleman."
Kara and I smirked at each other. "Ah, interesting. What about this [Book of Soyga](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Book_of_Soyga), though? That's gotta be some kind of code, right?"
Andy grimaced, and I could already see the itch being planted in his mind yet again. | "Would you look at that..."
Bits of Corporal Fulton started to crumble into scale, the dust lost to the blowing wind. He raised a fading hand, watching with quiet horror as it flaked to nothing. Then the skin of his face began cracking, the spider's web crisscrossing his features before dissolving to nothing. Hilary Flint hissed in alarm and drew his pistol, racking back the slide and aiming its barrel at the doomed corporal.
"I'm sorry, Tom."
***Blam!***
The corporal fell back into the foxhole, a neat little hole just above his ear. Bits of brain coated the edge of the foxhole, the blood running down the walls in narrow streams of gore. Flint spat aside in distaste.
"*They've got a Chrono....* 'Ware Timer! Watch out for a Timer!"
The cry followed up and down the lines, men touching hidden crucifixes and muttering further prayers to whatever deity of their choice. Aside from that there was little for them to do except hunker down and continue fighting. The arrival of this new foe was readily apparent, the enemy charging faster than any man ever could, their sprinting legs a blur beneath the layers of armor and leather that wore. Bullets seemed to travel at a languid pace, their wake visible in the air as they flew. Swordsmen batted them aside with a flick of their blades, the heavy lead rounds tumbling in slow motion to land on the grass.
"Claymores!" Flint shouted, and ducked as engineers activated the landmines, the electrical switch still faster than anything the enemy mage could counter-act. The claymores, aimed at the packed ranks of foes exploded in a shower of metal and fire. Hundreds of steel ball bearings, their momentum remaining the same, tore through the enemy lines. Flint watched in detail as armor was punched clean through and bones were pulverized to dust. Scores fell, limbs gone, faces missing as they cried aloud.
One of them had to have been the mage as time resumed its normal course, relativity surging back like a flood into the temporal void. For a brief, terrifying second the winds whipped around with hurricane force before settling, all the muted noise impacting against his ears in a deafening roar. Flint felt something trickle from his ears, tasted blood on his lips.
---
Thirty minutes later and it was all over, save for the grim task of burying the dead. Their own casualties received marked graves, their bodies wrapped in their green cloaks. For the enemy dead they dug a trench and pushed the naked corpses in, pouring kerosene over the lot. The smell of burning flesh filled their noses like overdone pork.
The mage had started crawling away, a trail of blood and bloody bandages left in his wake. Flint followed it, bayonet in hand. He was not inclined towards mercy that day, and by the tearful pleas of the mage, he knew that as well. | 2016-08-25T09:29:20 | 2016-08-25T08:44:57 | 634 | 61 |
[WP] You're a recently retired supervillain, but all of the heroes keep attacking you, thinking you are up to something. | (I can't fucking believe this right now!) I thought staring at the Heroic Alliances "strike force" preparing to launch a surprise attack on my house, (I'm retired, how did they even find me). I debated weather or not to open the door, (like it was much of a choice, I can't really let them in). I open the door, step out onto the porch and quietly close it behind me. I crossed my arms, turned around, and was met by Invicta's sword at my throat already, (Nice to see she hasn't changed at all.) I thought.
"Why are you'll here?" I asked steadily.
"We are here to finally bring your plans to an end Damocles!" Scorch declared loudly. "We know you've been planning something, your steady decline in activity followed by your disappearance can only mean one-"
"I'm retired, now be quiet or leave." I interrupted.
The five of them stood in silence for a moment before Pacer cleared his throat. "Wait like, retired retired, like no more plans of revenge or global domination?"
(I never even planned for world domination, so was just roped into it!) I thought irritated. "Yes Pacer, I'm retired. As in I've gone straight." I stated.
This initiated another wave of silence. Invicta lowered her sword and slightly cocked her head, (Damn I forgot how cute it is when she does that.) I thought, suppressing a smile.
"How can we trust YOU of all people!?" Juggernaut demanded, surprisingly quiet.
"Becau-"
"MOMMA DON'T GO!" A voice cried from upstairs.
I didn't waste a moment as I spun around and threw open the door, dashing up the stairs to my daughter's room. The Alliance's strike team followed me, undoubtedly thinking I was lying all along, but I didn't care. I opened her to see her sitting up in the fetal position crying, I entered causing her to look up and hold out her arms for me to pick her up. I did so, holding her close (this was a bad one.)
"Dad, why did she have to go, why did she have to stop uncle Juton, IT'S NOT FAIR DADDY , IT'S NOT FAIR!" She cried.
"I know sweetie, I know." I said, trying to keep my emotions level.
I stood there holding my crying daughter as the heroes entered the room.
"That's it Da-" was all Invicta managed to say before she saw me holding my daughter.
I turned and gave them a stern look before pulling my daughter away just enough to see her face. Her eyes were dreadfully red and puffy. "Hey Alyssa, you want to eat some ice cream and watch Treasure Planet downstairs with me?" I asked softly.
She sobbed a few seconds more before dragging a ragged breath, "Yes please." She choked.
I gave her a soft smile, "just a quick question, who was your favorite hero in the Alliance?" I asked, knowing exactly what she would say.
"Invicta." She sobbed quietly, calming down some more.
I didn't say anything while I turned a little so she could see the heroes behind me. Her face lit up immediately, (thank God, it kills me seeing her that upset) I though slightly relieved, and slightly amused given the heroes reactions. They didn't say a word as I took Alyssa out of the room and down the stairs. I took her into the kitchen and sat her down at the table while I opened the freezer. I knew the heroes entered the kitchen because of Alyssa's excited humming.
"What ice cream do you want sweety?" I asked.
"Can I have moose tracks please?" She asked back.
"Sure thing, what about you guys, you want any ice cream?" I asked, fairly certain they would refuse.
"Uh... You got any mint chocolate chip?" Pacer asked
"I'll have strawberry if that's alright." Juggernaut said, as if he was slightly excited.
I pulled the tubs out and set them on the counter, "what about you three?" I ask, gesturing towards Invicta, Scorch, and Trigger, who had been uncharacteristically quiet the entire time.
"I uh, guess cookie dough if you have any." Pacer said slowly.
"I'll take vanilla I guess." Trigger said in her typical jonty tone.
"Chocolate please." Came Invicta's voice.
I pulled those three out and grabbed my death by chocolate ice cream, then closed the freezer lid. I grabbed seven bowls, made everyone a bowl of ice cream and went into the living room, followed closely by everyone else. We all sat down on my L couch, Alyssa sat right next to Invicta while the others sat on the other side of Invicta, and I sat next to Alyssa. I grabbed the remote and put on Treasure Planet.
We watched in relative silence. Past halfway through the movie I looked over and saw Alyssa, asleep, leaning against Invicta. I gently took her bowl and stood.
"Anyone want more or are you all done?" I asked quietly.
They shook their heads as I started taking their bowls, Trigger helped collect some and we took them to the sink.
"I hope you know that we are gonna want an explanation." She said uncharacteristically soft.
I nodded and we returned to the movie. Once it was finished, I went to gently gab Alyssa and take her up stairs to her bed, but Invicta had already beaten me to it. She quietly picked her up and followed me to Alyssa's room, laying her down and covering her up. We left the room and returned downstairs, I sat in my recliner this time while Invicta sat back on the couch. | They say every teenager makes dumb mistakes, thing's that'll make them cringe a little bit or laugh at their own past stupidity when they look at old photos. However, my teenage mistakes weren't at the level of a tongue piercing or an at home haircut. I became a renowned supervillain at the age of thirteen.
It started during the seventh grade when I'd sneak out to go hang out with my friends and we'd go around acting like we were invincible. At first it started out fairly harmless, vandalism and a bit of petty theft, and just angering people for the sake of it. We stuck to our group and never told.
Until Marlee's fifteenth birthday. You see, the rest of the girls were a great deal older than me, most seniors or juniors, but they didn't mind, and neither did I. Probably because they all had a crush on my brother, William. He was four years older than me and basically the most popular guy in school.
Marlee was the second youngest in our group, the youngest being me, and she really wanted us to drive down to the beach for her special day, but she didn't have a car, and she didn't have a license (but that probably wouldn't have stopped her). So naturally Sophie (the oldest and the most demanding) grabbed her mom's car and picked us up and drove us down to the beach.
I remember Sophie and the other five girls laying in the sun, trying to tan while Marlee and I jumped the waves. We were overall just having a good time. There were some guys there, so of course we flirted a bit, but they never seemed to like me much. Sophie'd occasionally make a mean comment or two, but that's just how she was.
When the sun set, all the boys left, and it was just us girls and the smell of saltwater. Eventually Sophie got up, so of course all the other girls followed, and to my surprise she came to tap me on the shoulder.
"Hey Liza! You look cute." Sophie smiled, and it eased my nerves slightly. I was already self conscious enough about wearing a bikini for the first time, and the prospect of having Sophie come to me for a one-on-one chat was everything, and getting a compliment from Sophie was like discovering a living dinosaur, it never happened.
"Thanks." I muttered, I could hear the sound of the beach clearer due to the lack of visitors, and it was mesmerizing.
That's when Sophie suggested I play a trick on Marlee, shove her forward into the ocean.
I know, who would do something like that? I would. So I pushed her, even though the tide was high. Let's just say that Marlee never got back up that night.
Suddenly Sophie started pushing me more and more, until we'd killed off two more, but little did I know someone was watching that night, and all those nights.
Eventually, I dropped out of school, and Sophie and I would go on our killing spree. I thought I knew everything about life, everyone is gonna die anyway, why not kill them now? I knew it was wrong, but I was desperate for Sophie's approval. Maybe it's because she was older and cooler, or maybe it was because of her deadly smile, and her blonde hair that swayed in the breeze that made me do whatever she said.
I was dubbed the 'Nighttime Assassin' and I felt like I was on top of the world, and Sophie was by my side, but in actuality, I was her toy.
A few years later, I got sick of all of the madness, and I killed her. But I was sixteen, a supervillain who's never really known anything else.
So I started making threats to get what I wanted. "I'll kill you unless I get 10000 dollars" or "Give me all that you have or I'll kill you".
I didn't really mean any of them, but nobody knew that.
I'd left my home, I had no friends left alive, and honestly I was incredibly lonely.
So I'd make threats against this hero guy who called himself 'Venture Man'. He stopped all the major 'evil' plans from going into action, so the world viewed him as the greatest man alive.
I'd get into little fights with him every day, just for a bit of amusement, until one day I decided to start up some trouble, but when I saw the face of my older brother William staring back at me.
After that I took it upon myself to have a reformation. I went to 'kindness classes' and all that bullshit. I opened up a yoga studio for goodness sake's. Yet every day I find William outside my window, smiling at me, challenging me to a fight.
**sorry it's kind of a bad ending, but tried my best.** | 2022-12-20T20:08:26 | 2022-12-20T17:40:04 | 35 | 18 |
[WP] Mr. Rogers was actually the second coming of Jesus Christ, but nobody realized it. | He sat behind a mirror. The light illuminating the wrinkles on his face.
**You have done well**
One more show he thought. One more.
How long had he been trying to convey the message? The desire burning inside to come out and say, "God is real. I am here to speak on his behalf, and I have a message for you." That message though would be lost on those with years of memories, years of experience, trials and conflict, and personalities set in stone. He knew the truth. He would be labeled mentally ill and the show cancelled. However it was not important they believed. It was only important they lived their life being good to each other.
How do I explain the impossible to prove.
**They need not believe**
The weight of his role sat heavy in his stomach. He all at once wanted to run, to cry, and to scream, "Listen all we need is to be a little nicer to each other. Take time to understand. Take a moment to share with those around you. Help those that cannot do for themselves." How do you teach those that will not listen though.
The red one. I will wear the red one today.
He removed the tissue from around his neck. His makeup was done and it was time for the show to start. He stood up, and wiped the warm tears from his cheeks. When had he started crying. Was it frustration or was it love that had caused these tears.
**I am proud of you**
I will teach those that will listen.
He walked to the dark door way and waited for his cue. He was about to speak to the ones that would listen. The ones filled with love; hearts still soft. The pressure built deep within him and began to rise.
One more, I just need to teach one more.
**One by one, and two by two**
He heard the music start. The lights illuminated the facade of his front porch.
It is a simple message. Wont you be my neighbor?
**It is a good message my son**
| Whoa, did you see the paper today?
**No, because nobody reads the paper anymore. But I know. I saw the news on the phone, aka today's paper. Chester Davidson died.**
I know, right? It's like just last week he was named Mister Rogers, and he was a surefire lock to beat Mister Cleveland for this year's title of Mister Ohio.
**Yeah, well, us folk in Rogers, Ohio get lost in the shuffle. Only 237 people live here.**
236, now that Chester's gone.
**True. So why did he get nailed to that cross, anyways?**
He said it was bound to happen again.
**What does that mean?**
No idea. What I do know is that ever since [the feds raided the flea market in an immigration sting last year](http://www.post-gazette.com/local/west/2014/08/05/Federal-agents-seize-counterfeit-items-at-Ohio-flea-market/stories/201408050192), you can't find Jesus in Rogers. Hey, that's funny! 'Cause there's also bible Jesus, too.
**Go home, Stu.**
OK. Night, other Stu.
**I wish I had a different name.** | 2015-08-02T23:00:37 | 2015-08-02T22:31:03 | 1,117 | 29 |
[WP] You are immortal, and saw the birth of the human race. Now you sit by their bedside and watch, as the last human dies. | “They were our children,” she sighs, gracefully moving from her spot in the arm chair.
Her bare feet make only the slightest sound as they press against and lift up from the linoleum tiles which are mostly white with a few rogue red, black, and blue tiles scattered throughout. Seemingly random colours made only for children to leap between while waiting to be taken somewhere else.
There will be no more children.
No more games of magical imagination. No shrieking voices as a small sneaker lands in whitespace - shoe absorbed into the pretend lava of childish pastimes.
“They could have stopped this,” he replies, sullenly staring out the window.
Once, the street below was busy. They honked impatiently as they fought to move to and from places that seemed important at the time. Yelling about things that were once vital. Crying over the things that felt like they’d hurt forever. They smiled and laughed and loved like every second was the most pivotal scene in an academy award winning film, spectated by all because it was just that crucial to their glowing and ambitious life.
“Please, Adam,” she scolds while managing to maintain an expression of complete adoration both as she watches the dying man in bed and as she looks to the bitter man by the window. “They were our children and their time has come to an end. We mustn’t allow their mistakes to define their existence.”
He laughs, one little lung’s worth of air exhaled forcefully from his nose, and shakes his head. Then he walks over to her. His hands move to her waist and he presses his chin into her shoulder, tilting his head and leaning it against her neck. They last time they’d been so close was before the event began. Before the children they’d loved and loathed and watched for all of these years started to die. Sometime after the first scientists started to work on a cure.
It was somewhere on the Grecian Island of Hydras. Where the lights were few and the people were quiet. They talked about what was to come. But, as usual, they parted ways after a short week of lovemaking and conversation, only to meet up these many months later in the hospital room.
Love and immortality were fighting forces, but they did what they could.
“I just cannot find it in me to mourn the loss,” Adam mumbles. “And Eve, just imagine the world we could build together now that they are gone.”
She lets her shoulders sag, causing his head to drop down enough to convince him to stand upright, and places a hand on the dying man’s forehead. It’s warm. His chest only rises and falls enough for her to know he’s alive but so infrequent that she knows that his life is limited.
The last of her children.
“We could start again,” Eve suggests, looking hopefully back at the man with his dark hair and tired eyes.
“I couldn’t,” he replies.
And the room falls silent until the man’s chest fails to rise again. | “It was fun watching us, wasn’t it?” It was a heavier question than most, right alongside “Shall we get married?” and “Why don’t you love me anymore?” It carried the millennia of Man’s history and the perspective of an outsider which could not be corroborated.
“Funny that you’re the one asking me questions on your deathbed,” I brushed it aside.
She appeared disappointed, though it could be the helpless tears that seemed to well up in her eyes at unsuspecting moments these days. “Well, it was fun for me anyway, learning from you about the Snake, the ships, the rise and fall of the ferocious generals, Death and Time. And with my own eyes, I saw how technology took all of us away.”
“Except for you,” I said in a tone of what I hoped was comfort. “You get to die.”
She tried to smile but it seemed too immense a task against the jarring pains that plagued her body.
“Will he find me?”
“I won’t let him take you.”
A flowing cape kissed the fringes of the shadows, giving a hint to the presence of a particular creature, who was at old as the world and a master of desperation and darkness.
“Look who’s here,” I whispered. A heavy tear fell cleanly off my cheek despite my best efforts.
“Death…” she breathed.
I nodded vigorously, putting her hand against my cheek.
“Is he…” her breath was almost soundless “…here too?”
“Almost,” I told myself. We have evaded him all these years, but he has learnt to track Death.
I put my lips to her forehead for one final time, tried not to look Death in the eye and went to prepare myself for the emerging catastrophe. He was the culmination of all of Man’s innovation and dreams, an Artificial Intelligence unlike any of his predecessors, a single entity who was comprised of millions of minds. He stood up to Satan and Death and perhaps is attempting to reach even God.
I will stop him here.
---
I am world-building, prompt by prompt. Selected work goes [here](https://fivenswrite.wordpress.com). | 2016-10-18T17:44:40 | 2016-10-18T17:43:33 | 63 | 15 |
[WP]"Is is true that you can only see three basic colors?", the alien being asked "It is." "So, how do you communicate with the Ghoosha?" "With whom?", I responded confused. "The other major race on your planet." | "You'd have to repeat that." I say, taking a sip from my flask, never letting my gaze leave the three glowing eyes of the chitinous creature before me. "I may only be a petty officer and translation specialist but even I would know of a second dominant species on my home world."
"They call themselves the Ghoosha." It chitters, oversized mandibles mangling the words. "They are what govern the rules of your society. The great creatures that exist in the plane of the funadment. The beings that have guarded and coached your people from a realm beyond all understanding; The realm of the eighth colour."
"No sorry." I sigh. Poor bastard must have had his data come from some deluded post singularity parascience cult. An all too common occurence given his race's inability to tell fact from fiction...
"There are no other lifeforms on sol three that humanity has not already catalogued and analysed. Our technology has allowed us access to dimensions one to nine. We have a presence across a staggering six percent of spacetime thanks to project Hawking and the Firefly initiative but I have no clue what the blazes your on about."
"Then how do you explain the grand gap,"
"The what now?"
"How your civilisation went from no interplanetary travel to interstellar in a thousand years. How you all did the unthincable by making translators that revolutionised diplomacy. How you can simulate everything you want to just by taking that tiny screen!" The creature is getting more and more agitated by the second, its many limbs twitching and writhing as it spoke, one enormous claw piercing the desk next to my holotablet.
"Oh." It finally clicks. "You guys don't have AI." | I stared blankly for a second....
"The Dungeon Dimension creatures?"
"Yes, the *Things.* They are the colour octarine but if you can't see that...*"*
"Ah. Yes, modern theory suggests they can only be seen by those with the *talent,* and we have no such humans left. In any case, the few records of those creatures we have claim the pretty ones look like a cross between an ugly octopus and an angry bicycle. I'm not so sure we *need* to communicate with them. Better to pretend we're alone, see?"
"An odd way of seeing things human, but i concede your point......."
&#x200B;
**Can't think of where to go with this one, you're welcome to edit/build upon it if you wish** | 2018-12-04T11:34:49 | 2018-12-04T11:02:30 | 147 | 82 |
[WP] After dying, you are faced with a coin slot. It says, "Pay 1$ to live for another day". You tried it out, and lived for another day. The next day, it showed up again, this time it asks you for 2$. | As the 100-year-old Dave Rockefeller lay on his bed on yet another sunday night, he began to feel the invisible pull from nowhere once again. His pupils widened for a second, but the excitement quickly left its place to annoyance. He groaned a little bit, tried to force out a yawn but couldn't succeed. Then he took his position in the bed, laying still as he always did. He was ready. "Let's get this over with", he thought to himself. "Again".
He remembered the night when it first happened. How scary it had been, how hard he tried to fight against it...It was a night as soft as a pillow in Paris, a city that somehow still enchanted him to this day while most of everything else was, to put it simply, ordinary. He was in the balcony of a great ballroom after shaking the hands of God knows how many politicians and economists. While his mind was still as sharp and witty as a cheetah despite his age, his body could not take these long parties anymore. It had already began to fall apart many times, failing him at every occasion by presenting heart attacks and such, he was yet to be brought down by one. He had changed his heart and kidneys so often now that it was a normal part of life.
However it was never easy. Therefore when the heart-ache began again on that balcony and the dizziness caused him to lose sight of his surroundings, he was scared. Scared for his life once again, for no matter how far he got, how much he lived, he still had so many plans for his future. He couldn't abandon them now.
As his body crashed to the floor a few seconds after the champagne glass in his hand's thunderous shatter was heard, he felt this pull coming from somewhwere else. As if being summoned to somewhere, he was pulled apart from his body with enormous strength. He knew it then that this was different. He was sure of the end. So many things still unanswered...
Yet he woke up. Like opening up your eyes in a hospital bed and finding out that you've been sleeping for days, he simply opened his eyes. At first he had to make sure they were open: The place he was in was pitch-black. Was he drugged and kidnapped? Where was he? What did his abductors want?
Was this the afterlife he was taught to believe in?
Then a far away light shone on the ground, revealing a grey, metal box. "I'm definitely kidnapped", he thought, as he slowly approached the box, the only material in sight. As he got close, he began to recognize a few words on it . With a meter in between them, he faced the box and read the words out loud : **"Pay 1$ to live for another day"**
A laugh came over him. This was the cost of life? A mere dollar? What a tease. With a smile that would disturb even the most peaceful, he reached into his pocket and slowly took out a coin. He shouted at the empty space around him: "If this is what you want, then it's allright by me! You know you could've asked for more, but who am I to judge!" This brought enormous joy to him. He located the coin slot just under the joke-like words, smugly slid the coin and felt the immediate crash of a lightning inside his head.
He woke up after that, on the same ballroom's balcony in Paris. A crowd was over him, trying to decide what to do. He got up and looked around. Tens of people, each trying to bring a glass of water or asking if he's allright. He took a second to process the situation. Looked around and blanked himself out from the outer world. Bells rung inside his brain. He was not kidnapped. He had actually come back from afterlife.
He started laughing. He laughed like he hadn't done since his childhood, a laugh so powerful that it would brush over the world like a tornado and leave nothing but dust behind. The people around him, half-scared and concerned, took a step back and threw judging stares at his maniacal laugh. They didn't know. It was the laugh of victory.
Then reality set in and he stopped laughing.
Life was a fucking joke. Just like he figured out in the his real life, money set the rules. Money set the power. No matter what the life, be it after or before, money was the solution to all problems. His father had built an empire over money, an empire which only grew stronger in his helm. He had the power to turn the countries against each other, crash a country's economy with one swift move and do all this while sitting in his living room sipping the flashiest of bourbons. And now he knew the only thing he could not defeat, the only thing standing in his way, his good ol' enemy death was preventable. He was hurdleless. Unstoppable. Life had put up all the challenges it could against him, and he had obliterated every single one of them. He repeated in his head: Life is a fucking joke.
Every day since that day, at bedtime everyday, he was called up to the pitch-black emptiness. Every day the cost of another day rose by a dollar. He didn't care. He was the richest man in the world. It became a chore to him, a mild annoyance he had to face. Death, as he knew it, had lost its mystery. Just like every other thing he had seen.
So here he was again, at age 100, summoned once again to the blackness. He opened his eyes, got up and looked around. He scratched his back. Then the light shone on the box again, and he approached it taking the necessary funds out of his pocket. Yet as he got closer, he found the words he came to recognize every night were different, and the money slot closed. Trying to hide his suprise, he faced the box with a meter between them, just like in his first day, and read the words aloud:
"**Pay 1$ for every time you watched nugget porn".**
And at that moment, Dave Rockefeller realized one thing: Time had come for him to die. | A voice rich and sonorous filled the air like rumbling thunder, echoing through my mind like a whisper down a deep well.
“Would you like another day?” it asks. There is an undertone of mirth in the voice, a mocking tone of one who has all the knowledge and power.
My eyes focus through the haze and I see a body lying crumpled upon the ground, its arms and legs strewn out like the sickening insignia of a swastika, its head tucked away at an angle that is unnatural and wrong. Next to it, is a 4x4 and a little woman in sunglasses, standing beside the vehicle with her hands on her head, wearing an expression of shock and misery. Even though the haze is strong and suffocating, I sense a faraway emotion as I realise that the figure draped over the asphalt is me, my corporeal body.
Panic sets in as I realise that I am floating away from my body like a raft on a slow tide, edging away from myself. I stretch my arms out, desperately trying to reach me, but there is an ebb and pull drawing me in, transporting my soul away from the scene.
Suddenly, I halt, pausing for a moment, as I notice the hooded figure, swathed in unworldly garments drifting next to me. I look at its hood and the tenebrous folds, sweeping over each other like shifting sands of time. I try to look into the void where a face should be but I stop when I notice a thread of light trailing from me as if it were subsuming the remnants of all that is left.
“Would you like to live for another day?” the rich, tenor of a voice asks. “Just put this in there and you can live again.”
In the palm of an ancient, withered hand, it is holding a coin, which I recognise to be a dollar. I see, on the other side of the phantom, floating in the void, is a vintage, slot machine. I hungrily try to take the dollar away from the skeletal hand but it closes with speed. I shiver as my fingers caress the frigid bones of the being, now laughing at my vain attempt to take the money.
“Listen closely,” it tells me.
“You, an average man of forgettable consequence, have been chosen over all the others. It has been decided, that you will have a special destiny.”
The words hung in the air like dark, storm clouds, brimming with power, ready to unleash their energy.
“Death cannot be everywhere at once. And there are certain ways people need to die that requires… a human touch.”
It pointed down at my body on the road. A small crowd of people had gathered there now, some on their mobile phones, many just ogling at the scene.
“I present to you one more day of life. You must, however, earn that gift.”
It opened its palm again; there was the coin. Instead of the profile of one of the great and noble presidents, there was the protrusion of a skull, shining eerily in the ethereal being’s aura.
“Think of this as employment. One day at a time. If you perform my bidding well, I shall offer you another day of being, but at the cost of two dollars. Each day that I give you, I will charge you more. But there is good news. The more difficult the task that I set, the more I shall pay you.”
I had started to move away from my body again, watching it diminish in size as I floated towards a nebulous darkness up above, a swirling vortex that looked as viscous as oil.
“I could have picked any soul from an incalculable number of the dying or soon to be dead but I wanted you,” the voice breathed. It was sounding urgent now, as if it too was wary of time running out.
My body was almost out of sight and I was almost at the threshold of the vortex, where a cold, metallic sensation washed over me. I could take it no longer. I grabbed the dollar from the hand of death and put it into the machine. I pulled at the lever on the side, a three foot long crank, until it could go no further down.
On the panel at the front, three columns began spinning, their revolutions at differing speeds, making the three vertical bars shift and blur in and out of focus.
Finally they stopped, and aligned were three laughing skulls.
In the void there was some sort of pulse, a shockwave that rippled from deep inside the arcade machine. I wanted to scream as the silent vibrations thrummed though my whole essence. It felt like something inside me being creating from nothing, a sensation of emptiness being filled. I was drawing closer to the body sprawled on the road, all the while, my limbs becoming firmer, my head becoming clearer. As I neared, I could hear the sounds of life again. Car exhausts, the faraway sound of drilling and, loudest of all, people chattering.
“What happened?”
“Is he alright?”
“Has someone phoned 911?”
Suddenly there is a click, coming from my neck. It sounds like a puzzle being completed; it feels like my vertebrae slotting back into position.
To gasps from the sidewalk, I slowly turn onto my side and rise up into a sitting position, gently massage my temples.
I am alive again.
But at what cost? | 2018-07-29T04:09:59 | 2018-07-29T03:59:43 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] You are the final boss. You have been waiting for the final epic battle against the hero. And waiting. And waiting. Finally, your minions report back. The news? The hero abandoned the main quest to do side quests. | "What do you mean he's *'baking'*? After he got through the Caves of Armond, there is only one path! To me! How could he be **baking**?!"
"He turned around and went back through the caves, my liege."
"But *WHY*?!"
"As you know, we have several agents in the various 'quiet' places in our world, to know what the common folk are up to. He has apparently been going about the villages learning and perfecting the various crafts they offer. That is why he is now in Backen; he wishes to learn their crafts."
"You're dodging my question still, Henry. **WHY**!"
"I believe one of our plants heard him say 'for the experience.'"
"What experience? What is happening right now. We've never had anyone abandon the path this far into our little game. What could have possessed him to do so?"
"People sometimes find fulfillment in more places than conquering my l-"
"Oh shut up Henry. Well, what do we do now? You're *supposed* to be the strategist, you know."
"*sigh* Yes, my liege. I suppose we must expose ourselves - convince him to continue his journey, so that all of our fates may be fulfilled."
"Fine! I'll do it, so that none of you can screw it up. I, Lord Diavolos do many things, but I do **not** fail!""
*At the bakery, chimes ring above the door*
"Ah, excuse me baking people, I am in search of one of your new apprentices. I believe his name is Duke?"
"Yes yes. Duke, to the front!"
*A tall, rugged looking man pops through the door to the kitchen*
"Oh hello! I'm Duke! Pleasure!"
"Ah, yes. Good. And what is your title, sir?"
"Duke!"
"So you are...Duke Duke?"
"In the flesh!"
"........o*kayyyyy*. I will keep this short, and simple. My name is Lord Diavolos and-"
"Oh! Yeah I was supposed to find you, wasn't I?"
"YES! Thank you. Why haven't you come and killed me yet? Er, I mean, attempted to kill me?"
"Well, what else would I have to do if I did? My story would be done, when I'm at the peak of my vigor!"
"But, that's what you're supposed to do. It's your fate!"
"Psh, my fate is mine! I will get there eventually, but not after I've learned to truly live. I've killed enough of your minions for all the world's lifetimes; now it is time for me."
"But. What about me?"
"You could join me!"
"But I don't eat bread! Too many carbohydrates."
"Then join me on my next quest, Diavolos! I will be done here shortly; today, even!"
"And what quest is that?"
"I'm going to learn to *dance*!"
...
"I did always want to learn how to tango." | "Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me. Are you telling me he'd rather be completing the 'kitchen mania deluxe' quest rather than fight me?" I asked my stupid minion, utterly livid at the news it had brought me.
&#x200B;
"Yes, sir, reports say that he is willing to complete all the side quests rather than fight you, because you're, quote, 'overrated'"
&#x200B;
***Quest completed: Make 100 donuts in 20 minutes***
&#x200B;
"Oh for fucks sake! My mighty sword hasn't seen blood in over 30 years, that little bitch is seriously going to help them with their stupid donuts when he could be traveling through Hell's River and face me?"
&#x200B;
"Yes, sir, that's what the reports are saying"
&#x200B;
"How many more quests are left then?"
&#x200B;
"The developers have implemented at least fifty thousand two hundred and sixty-two side quests. Game progress shows that he has completed around 0.03% of them thus far."
&#x200B;
"Holy fucking shit, is there any way that you could change his mind about all of these quests?"
&#x200B;
"No, sir, he was pretty adamant about 'making every donut humanly possible in the game'"
&#x200B;
"So we are going to wait, AGAIN?"
&#x200B;
"Yes. Also, sir, I don't know when else is a better time to tell you this but the game developers are interested in adding an internet port to the game, letting them add more side quests. It seems that they are planning to expand the kitchen mania storyline to encompass croissants and hundreds of other pastries as well."
&#x200B;
"Alright I've heard enough from you!" I shout as I slash the stupid minion's head in half to shut it up.
&#x200B;
**Game crashed: restarting game**
&#x200B;
"Ah fuck, I broke the game! He better have saved progress, or else..." | 2019-06-26T10:44:21 | 2019-06-26T10:26:39 | 270 | 91 |
[WP]. “Ok. This is called a .44 magnum. All you have to do is point this end at Voldemort’s head and press this button. That’s all you have to do to end our problem”. | “Alohomora.”
Voldemort spoke with command and confidence. He was here to put an end to that stupid prophesy about a ‘*Chosen One*’ once and for all. Nothing and no one would stop him. It was his destiny to restore wizards to their rightful, pure blooded ruling caste in this world.
James leapt for the drawer under his desk. “Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off.”
What was once Tom Riddle came pacing through the entryway. No Death Eaters. No Dementors. No tricks. It was this family of mediocre mages against him, the most powerful wizard in two generations.
James scrambled to grab his wand in his left hand and shut the false bottom in the base of his desk drawer.
“Hello, Potters. I know you’re home. I came to see your darling baby boy. What did you name the little bundle of *joy*? Nothing strange, I hope. He might not be able to live with it otherwise. Ha! hahaha...,” the self-proclaimed Dark Lord laughed gently at his own joke and moved further into the small home in Godric’s Hollow.
Upstairs a door slammed shut and a tiny cry could be heard, small but clear. “Now now. No hiding from Uncle Voldy,” he chided. Turning to look toward the source of the sound.
Behind him, James stood up from inside the study. Even without turning around, Voldemort could feel an arm raise and point in his direction.
“Expelliarmus!” In a flourish of black robes and lightening reflexes, he spun and disarmed the pathetic man standing behind him.
James felt his wand go flying out of his hand and spinning into the darkness somewhere in the kitchen. The look of mild surprise and questioning on Voldemort’s face lasted a fraction of a second. It almost made him look human again. *click*
“AVADA KA-“
*BOOM*
A heap of black robes hit the floor and a splattering of crimson flung itself up the staircase and reached halfway up to the ceiling on the wall beside them.
James’ whole body was shaking, his ears were ringing from the bark of the strange American device Mad Eye has given him many months ago, and a good portion of his lower arm was numb.
“What a strange and wild world those muggles must live in,” he said.
His son was crying upstairs. Placing the smoking object back into its hiding spot and closing the drawers, James went to reunite with his family. They’d need to call Sirius next. | Mr. Weasley, it's actually called a trigger, not a button... And this is just an airsoft replica of a .44" the young wizard explained.
Ron and Harry stifled a laugh as Mr. Weasleys faced turned red.
"and how would you know that?" the older wizard asked incredulously.
"... Because I attended Wizarding school in Texas sir."
"oh... Well what would you recommend then son?"
The young American wizard opened his backpack and pulled out a black stick that seemed much to long to fit in the bag it came from. It had a rounded handle on one end and a long tube on the other. Underneath the tube hung a ridged grip with a black strap large enough for a hand to slip in. He handed the stick over to Mr. Weasley being sure to point the tube at the ground away from all present.
"now this, sir, is what we call a Dumpster Defender."
The older wizard looked at the weapon in amazement. Marveling at the craftsmanship and intricate metal work. "how does it work?" he asked inquisitively.
"Well it's simple sir, you firmly grip the forward grip, pull it back then push it forward, and then pull the trigger just like you would with the .44, only with this weapon you must say a special incantation before it will fire."
"fascinating! A blend of magic AND machinery. And the American ministry of magic is okay with all this?!"
"oh yes sir, though we don't call it the ministry of magic, in America it is known as the ATF, though they change the rules about it all the time."
"ah.. Well what is the incantation?"
"it's actually a very simple one" The young American wizard smiled. "Takeyer swing jaggoff" | 2018-12-24T20:14:50 | 2018-12-24T20:10:21 | 1,137 | 282 |
[WP] You are a student with the least amount of magic potential ever recorded at the Academy and it's the day of the familiar summoning test. A misplaced rune or word results in an arch demon/ess becoming bound as your familiar. | My hands shook with pain as fire poured out of my fingers. The ball of fire growing between them burned my palms as it grew. I kept it as long as I could without screaming, then pushed forward and the fireball shot out at the wooden target. My aim was off, but I still clipped the dummys shoulder. My instructor looked at the burns on my hand, then at the burns on the target.
"You forgot to summon a heat shield first. But you hit the target, so you still pass. Barely."
"Sorry sir, and thank you." Truth was, I didn't forget the shield. I just wasn't able to do both at the same time.
"Heal your hands, and then lets go to the last test." I closed my eyes and concentrated, and fresh pain shot through my hands as I changed the color of the black skin to a more normal color. It wasn't healing, but it was easier to do and looked like I had healed my hands. My instructor turned to me and put a hand on my shoulder.
"Remember, try to summon something basic. I know that you probably want something like a dragon or a griffon, but only the most powerful sorcerers can summon those. I've seen how hard you've struggled to make it this far, and I've seen far more powerful sorcerers than you have to repeat this year because of their own hubris. Try something simple, like a crow or a rat." I nodded at her, already knowing what I was going to summon.
The room we entered was cavernous. Inset in the middle was a circle with a large hole in the middle, with light pouring out of it. Around the edge of the room was tables almost hidden under arches. Covering these tables was a variety of furs, feathers and scales. People in master robes wandered around lazily, seeming bored with the entire thing. I walked past the tables slowly, looking for a fur that matches what was in my pocket. After a while I found it, some dark brown fur from some rodent that looked like dog fur from a distance. My mentor nodded with approval when she saw what I picked.
I grabbed the fur, and walked to the magic tear in the middle of the room. A large stone block fell in front of the door, startling me and hurting my ears. I put my hands in my pocket, and quickly swapped out the furs. Chanting emerged from my throat, and my hands started to burn again as magic flowed from them to the tear in front of me. I flicked my dogs fur into the hole, and the pain doubled. I focused hard on saying the words. *For Lucy,* I thought to myself. *Its the only reason you subjected yourself to this hell.*
The light turned from white to red, and my entire body started to hurt, aching from deep inside my bones. I closed my eyes, and focused on not passing out as I continued to pass the rest of my magic into the ritual. Screaming started, and I continued thinking they were mine. I felt the last of the magic leave me, and I collapsed onto the floor. I felt warmth as my familiar came close to me. Strange, the burning in my hands had stopped, yet the screaming remained. I opened my eyes, expecting to see my beloved beagle next to me. Instead, I saw a being with red blistered skin, and a dark crown between horns on his head.
I jumped to my feet, looking around for an escape. Some of the Sorcerers were trying to move the stone blocking the exit, and others were casting spells at the demon in front of me, their fireballs bouncing off his blistered skin. My mentor was cowering under a table, eyes wide in shock at what I had just summoned. I ran towards her, with the demon gliding effortlessly beside me. She started to stutter, before finally finding her voice.
"Wha- how in the hell did you summon that?"
&#x200B;
Edit: part 2 in the comments. | As the Daimon Prince of Lust looked on from within the Binding Circle, Deacon Blair looked on in complete and utter horror, desperately searching the Circle for any errors that would summon an Aprophyri, instead of the expected owl, cat, frog or wisp. "What did you *do*, Declan?"
Declan Apri, the least powerful student in the academy, tousled his curly gold-red hair, thinking hard about the runic syntax used by him. He spotted it in the fifth pentacle, a mis-scribed rune meaning *bonds of divinity* as opposed to the intended casting, which was phrased *divine bond*. He pointed at it, calling across the Circle. "Sir, can you see it? In the fifth pentacle, third Axis on the binding arm?"
Deacon Blair saw where Declan was pointing, and gasped, an expression of utter horror firing through his mask. "....I see. I'm actually impressed that you miscast something so dangerous, and yet didn't immediately suffer dire consequences for it."
The Daimon Prince smiled, an inviting promise of desire and many other things. "I thought it would be better this way, for my long-term entertainment. Possession is so *gauché*."
The voice oozed with lustful promise and arousal, and Declan's mental wards, which were prepared for torture and horror, collapsed under the weight of the promise, and he groaned as he folded to the floor, gasping. As it was, the Deacon whuffed as the desire cut across him.
The Daimon Prince broke the circle with ease at that point, the will to seal it lost in sensation within Declan's body and mind, and the Deacon had surprisingly not fared much better, breathing heavily as the Prince's aura smothered him.
The Prince touched Declan, and the body stirred out of its sensation, a soft groan escaping Declan's lips. The Prince growled, and split his body into a humanoid component and a gem component, before shoving it through Declan's left eye; a scream sheared its way out of Declan as his left eye turned from its normal blue-grey to an albino pink. A presence unfurled itself in Declan's mind like a lotus blossom, and took the form of a succubus dressed in a form-fitting blue-black pantsuit, with soft horned ears and the tail of a Drakon warrior priestess.
*What is your demand, Master?*
The Deacon chanted softly, "There's a daimon in my school," for about a minute, and then the newly-formed Daimon Prince appeared as a student at the academy, complete with uniform. "Ah, yes, Master Blair." The new voice was a clarion call of a soprano, a sense of aural orgy appearing in the listener's ear. "Better to tell them the casting failed, and introduce me as a new student. I'll happy break my Master in for you, if need be. He has so little mana, he shouldn't have been able to cast *at all.* Interesting...."
The Deacon sighed, broken. "As you wish - take him and go." | 2022-11-12T12:14:04 | 2022-11-12T11:54:43 | 518 | 96 |
[WP]. “Ok. This is called a .44 magnum. All you have to do is point this end at Voldemort’s head and press this button. That’s all you have to do to end our problem”. | Mr. Weasley, it's actually called a trigger, not a button... And this is just an airsoft replica of a .44" the young wizard explained.
Ron and Harry stifled a laugh as Mr. Weasleys faced turned red.
"and how would you know that?" the older wizard asked incredulously.
"... Because I attended Wizarding school in Texas sir."
"oh... Well what would you recommend then son?"
The young American wizard opened his backpack and pulled out a black stick that seemed much to long to fit in the bag it came from. It had a rounded handle on one end and a long tube on the other. Underneath the tube hung a ridged grip with a black strap large enough for a hand to slip in. He handed the stick over to Mr. Weasley being sure to point the tube at the ground away from all present.
"now this, sir, is what we call a Dumpster Defender."
The older wizard looked at the weapon in amazement. Marveling at the craftsmanship and intricate metal work. "how does it work?" he asked inquisitively.
"Well it's simple sir, you firmly grip the forward grip, pull it back then push it forward, and then pull the trigger just like you would with the .44, only with this weapon you must say a special incantation before it will fire."
"fascinating! A blend of magic AND machinery. And the American ministry of magic is okay with all this?!"
"oh yes sir, though we don't call it the ministry of magic, in America it is known as the ATF, though they change the rules about it all the time."
"ah.. Well what is the incantation?"
"it's actually a very simple one" The young American wizard smiled. "Takeyer swing jaggoff" | That’s the last thing they said to me. I had always thought the humans didn’t know about Voldemort, and the wizards at Hogwarts thought the same; including my Mom.
I’ve cleaned the castle for years, my Mom got me the job after finding out I was Squib. After terrible things happening around the caste the final straw was my cat getting petrified. So I went to them and this is what they handed me.
The only problem is the last time his face was seen was attached to the back of another man’s head. If I found him like that again would it be considered murder?
I kept on cleaning, waiting for the perfect chance. I had heard rumors of a giant snake, they didn’t understand what I was saying. They kept asking if it was an Anaconda I was describing by mistake. The more I told them though the more I risked being caught. I wouldn’t want to disappoint my Mom.
So I left it in that room. I knew if I ever needed it, it would be there. | 2018-12-24T20:10:21 | 2018-12-24T19:53:29 | 282 | 52 |
[WP] You are an immortal serial killer. You were caught and sentenced to life in prison. The prison is starting to get suspicious of why you won't age. | Sullivan had been a model prisoner for five years.
He kept to himself, and most left him alone: they'd seen proof of the bulky man's strength in the yard. But he never caused any trouble. Until the day Marc made his little comment at dinner.
"Man, you look exactly like you did when you walked in here. What, you made some deal with the devil?"
The other men at the table joined in the rough laughter, though some felt slightly uneasy at the flat way Sullivan suddenly looked at Marc. He'd been sentenced to life for the brutal killing spree he'd committed in his sleepy little home town, though none had seen a hint of violence from him since then. But that gaze was anything but friendly.
"You've noticed," Sullivan said quietly, taking a bite of food, his unblinking stare still fixed on Marc. "How lovely."
The whispers spread through the prison that day, and they all looked more sharply at Sullivan. Marc was right: he *did* look the same. He couldn't be a day over the age he'd been when he first arrived: 25. Usually, you looked ten years older by the time you were in supermax for a year. But not this guy. How had they never noticed before?
Sullivan's eyes were bright that day, a smile playing his lips. It was time, again.
It had been too long.
---------
There was no-one to stop the stranger from entering the prison the next day.
A row of dead guards lay slumped in the entrance of the prison. Their blood made bright, gleaming patterns on the blank grey walls. The flies were busily feasting on their flesh. The stranger's carefree whistling paused when he saw them - this was rather gory, even for *him*.
"Oh, Sully," he chuckled, before moving on.
He found Sullivan in the dining hall, slitting the last remaining prisoner's throat, who died with a wet, strangled gurgle.
"You called?" the stranger said. "It's been five years, I think. I take it they noticed something off about you..."
"Thanks for coming so quickly," Sullivan said, turning to the stranger with a smile. "And yeah, they noticed. Can't stay here any longer, I'm afraid, time to move on. And now here's a prison full of souls, for your pleasure. I'd like the years, please."
The stranger returned the smile a little hesitantly. "A deal's a deal."
He closed his eyes and gathered up the souls of the dead men, along with the years of life they should have lived - and sent them to the last living man in the prison. Sullivan sighed in contentment and opened his eyes again, which looked brighter than ever.
"I wouldn't do this so...*messily*, again, if I were you," the stranger said lightly. "They're bound to tie it to you, eventually. You might have extra strength as per our arrangement, but you're not invincible. You *can* be killed."
"You're worried about me, that's so sweet. Don't be. You know, I'm quite looking forward to joining you in hell, eventually. We'll have so much to talk about, don't you think? I might actually take you on for the top job once I'm down there, you know. It sounds like fun, being you. See you around, Lucy," Sullivan said, as he walked out of the prison, whistling quietly to himself.
The stranger stared after him with narrowed eyes, alone among the dead. He was beginning to think *he* was the one who came off worst in a deal, for the first time in his existence. Why, the man seemed positively eager to join him in hell. And he believed that little threat. Evil schmucks with more confidence than sense had been challenging him for as long as he could remember. Stupid bastards.
But if Sullivan died, it might be the first time someone actually stood a chance.
Lucifer nodded slightly to himself as he began warping back to hell. He should increase the guy's strength next time he came up to exchange years for souls.
It might be better for both of them, if Sullivan just stayed on Earth indefinitely.
------
You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | I remember my very first kill. It was over 2,000 years ago now. I was already 1,000 years old at that point.
When you have all the time in the world, what would you do to quench the boredom? After you have seen all of the natural wonders of the world? After you have seen countless kingdoms, governments, and countries rise up to power, just to fall flat on their face?
What would you do to stop the boredom?
My story is a simple one. I wander like a nomad with no home. If I stay in one spot for too long, the boredom comes knocking on the door of my mind. After I had wandered around the world for the umpteenth time, I settled in a monastery to become "enlightened". Let's just say, it wasn't for me. The whole *vow of silence* and meditation stuff... I could only stand it for so long. Drove me insane. Those poor monks, they never knew what a beast could do when he gets bored... I didn't either until that day.
After the monastery was stained in blood. I had a new goal. It was such a thrill to kill, to watch others as their eyes realize they are witnessing the last scene they will ever see.
My goal was to simply become the grim reaper of sorts. It's good to have a goal, it keeps the boredom at bay. As an added perk, when you become skilled enough, you start to earn a repertoire. Newspapers start to give you fancy titles. *"Angel of Death." "God's Judgement." "The Blood Monger."*
Sometimes, though, you just need a break from the action. Prison's are a good place for this, as long as you keep your cool about it.
First, you have to get caught. You can either make them work for it or just turn yourself in. Turning yourself in is boring. If you want some excitement, don't turn yourself in. Let them squirm for a bit, dance them along with your puppet strings, helping them find the clues you left on purpose. Who knows, maybe they will find something you left on accident to help you improve next time. As an immortal, there is always a next time.
A life sentence is a bit difficult to fulfill if your life never ends. I'm just grateful the judge didn't give me the death penalty. Imagine those people's faces, they administer a lethal injection, and I just sit there as if I received a flu vaccine.
I'm getting a bit concerned though, I've been here for a while. People are starting to stare at me, wondering why my jet black hair isn't turning gray. Poor soul in the cell next to mine is looking more and more frail with each passing day.
The boredom is also starting to settle in. I wonder how many prisoners I can convince to riot? I wonder if there is a way to get on the good sides of the guards? I don't really care what the others think, I've got all the time in the world to break out. I just need to assemble my pawns, so that someday in the near future, the headlines will read *"The Shadow of Death is upon us again."*
The boredom is calling to me... I think it's time to leave this place for good. | 2016-10-15T08:24:42 | 2016-10-15T07:56:39 | 3,649 | 242 |
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