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[WP] "Witch! Heathen! Burn her!" You watch with amusement as they begin lighting the pyre under you. The flames tickle your feet, bringing a familiar warmth with them. They are silly to that think they could actually burn a dragon with fire. | The disguise I wore burned away from my feet first, revealing my claws and scaly skin.
At the sight some of them gasped in disgust or fear, and I did my best not to smile.
"Now, since you're all gathered here," I started over again. "I have a proposition for you. Your northern fields have encroached on my territory. Now, normally that wouldn't be a problem, I'd just move, but I have two eggs to hatch. Not very mobile, I'm sure you understand."
They didn't, despite my best efforts, seem to understand.
"The witch has offspring! Accursed beasts far from God's light, heathen scaly-footed wretches!" One man screamed, riling up the crowd onto a frenzy as my disguise burned away a bit more, my legs now a good bit larger than they had been, but still not so much as to be obvious under my skirt, currently in flames.
"Well, yes, they would be heathens since I don't believe in your particular God," I agreed, bobbing my head. "But to be fair, you don't believe in any of the other gods I've heard about, so I think we're on a fairly level playing f--"
I stopped as a man charged up with a spear, eager to impale me.
Grimacing, I tore one hand free from the ropes and grabbed the spear, just before it would have pierced me, just as the fire further revealed my body, my tail lashing in the first sign of actual anger, as I stared into the eyes of the holy man who had just tried to kill me.
"She must live in the smoking cave!" He declared loudly. "If we take her bastard children, then she will have to do as we say!"
And for the first time in decades, I felt the icy grip of fear on my heart, as half the townsfolk turned and began to run for the fields.
"No..." I growled, ripping free of the stake and landing with a crunch on the burning logs, fire wreathing me and finally freeing me from my diplomatic guise. "No, I will not allow that."
I towered over the man closest to me, my sharp teeth bared and claws wrenching the spear away from him to clatter across the town square.
He had just enough time to scream, before I burned him alive.
But I had more urgent matters to attend to, than enjoy the sight of his skull frozen in that silent scream for all eternity
EDIT: There are now 8 parts released, all available [HERE](https://www.reddit.com/r/Saryis/comments/kracb7/dragon_of_faith_sections_18/)! The 9th, 10th, and epilogue sections will be released tomorrow 1/6/20 and be linked in that same post.
My subreddit is r/saryis My website is Mythostrilogy.com where you can sign up for a monthly email about my writing and my book.
Thank you! | I hide my smile underneath the the cermonial mask.I hold my laughter as they hoist me to a beam covered in hastenly found beeswax. Apologizing if it hurt. My hands bound behind me in old iron chains, I feel rust flaking off. My feet fastened now to the beam securely with another piece of chain. They throw a large pail of liquid over me drenching me and my outfit. I frown as I feel the liquid seeps in. I see them building up the logs, branches and tinder needed to make the bonfire. I see them struggling to make a spark with the flint and steel. I stare around my surroundings. I see the grief in the eyes of the people in town, caused by the lost of loved ones, the famine, their very way of life caused by the war. The madness sparking in their eyes thinking a sacrifice would make everything better for them. I know these people, I know their pain, I seen and felt their desperation. I do not blame for doing this insane act for salvation. I seen people butcher each other for much less. As I close my eyes I hear other town folk rushing in, screaming, demanding to end this act of madness. The pleas fall on deaf ears as they continue reminding what they have lost. I hear the sound of an axe slamming into a piece of stone silencing everyone. The spark it created, lit the tinder which lit everything else. The flames climbed quickly tickling my feet and up my legs. I feel real warmth for the first time in ages. The flames traveled up , covering my entire body. The flames burned my clothes turning them into ash.I felt the chains expand from the heat releasing me. As if I fall from the beam to the ground, wings grew out of my back as I land crowd stares at me. The bonfire became the only source of sound the hissing and popping of the flames echoed into the day time sky. The town stared back at me and then each other. I smiled and laughed, as all the town folk screamed in unison. As I bellowed out "You asked for salvation I will give it to you". The screams of gratitude continue. | 2021-01-03T05:57:18 | 2021-01-03T02:22:14 | 1,150 | 151 |
[WP] You don't realize you're the villain till the hero tells you | I kicked back and relaxed in my favorite chair, it's soft blue cloth worn by years of use.
*Another dictator down, and it's time for some beer and netflix* I thought to myself.
I heard a knock on the door, and was instantly on alert. Anyone who could make it past the sentry guns and heat sensors without me knowing was a problem. Likely an assassin from North Korea; they were high on my list. I gathered my weapons and waited. The door creaked open, and in stepped The Balancer.
"Oh, it's you!" I said smiling, relaxed once more.
"I suppose I'll have to get used to this huh? We superheroes can't exactly dial each other up." I gestured towards a chair, but he ignored me, walking stony faced towards my TV. My smile dipped, but I forced it back.
"Hey, Balancer, buddy, what's going on? C'mon man, talk to me! You were my Idol growing up, you know? How you'd establish peace in nations. I loved that. None of the petty 'I stopped a robbery' nonsense. You stopped wars, ended tyrannical rule, and wrote laws."
The Balancer turned on the TV, and started flipping through channels.
"Balance, what's going on? Let's celebrate! Let's go out somewhere, somewhere they won't recognize us. There's never anything good on the news anyways. At least let's watch..." My voice trailed off as I saw what was on the news.
"Th-that can't be right. I... I just saved them! Why is there rioting?!" I asked, horrified as a death count rolls across the bottom of the screen.
"You left a power vacuum. Again." The Balancer spoke, his gravelly voice rolling through the room.
"This happens every time. I've fixed it for you so far," he told me, straightening up from the TV now.
"Toppler, you aptly named yourself. You've destroyed countries, villages, and countless hundreds of lives." He was looking me in the eye now, and I felt myself shrinking away inside. "You can't just remove a government,Toppler. Something has to take its place. I thought you'd learn that eventually."
"I didn't know," I whispered desperately.
"I didn't know what I had done!" Shouting now. My eyes locked back on the screen as pundits declared the evil of The Toppler. Of myself.
"I know. That's why you're just going to retire. You'll live with me for a while. In 5 years or so you can start working with me. We need time for this to blow over. The Illusionist is outside. We are going to make it look like you died. You'll change your face, and I'll teach you how to do this well. But your family can never know."
I nodded my head number, and started walking out the door.
"I'm sorry." I mumbled.
"We know." | The flashing red and blue of a dozen police lights illuminated the store front, as officers and detectives littered the crime scene. A trio of ambulance personnel were standing over the two robbers, both covered in blood and burn marks; my doing.
I was stuck in the back of a police van, watching the scene through tinted glass, hands cuffed behind my back. A rough looking cop sat across from me, watching over me, guarding me.
The ambulance personnel covered one of the robbers with a white blanket, face to crotch. I smiled. *He will no longer make this world unsafe.*
‘What are you so happy about?’ asked the cop.
I was taken aback a bit by the ludicrousness of that question, as justice had just been served, but I recovered fairly quickly, ‘He was a dangerous man, and now that he is gone, I made the world a better place.’
I pushed my shoulders backwards, as to emphasize the Pyro – that’s my name! – logo across my costume’s chest, ‘And this will be only be the first of many victories for justice! You will see, mark my words. This whole arresting and capture will be unnecessary soon, and I’ll be hauled as the hero this city wants and needs!’
The cop snickered with disgust, ‘Ha, yeah, sure. A rich kid wearing red boxers over his sister’s yellow leggings who used his daddy’s WWII flamethrower to stop a robbery on a goddamn *movie set* is a hero? For crying out loud, the signs identifying the area as a recording zone were all over the street and neighbourhood. You maimed most of the crew! People disfigured in one of the most horrible ways possible. Son, you’re looking at decades to life. And you think—’
I blocked him out. He was talking out of his neck, sprouting bullshit. Policemen are legally allowed to lie after all. *What would he know of heroes? Of being a hero? Nothing. This is all just part of the test, the test of true heroism. Even Batman was considered a villain at one time. This city would love me soon enough.*
I smiled some more as the other robber got covered too.
| 2015-04-18T05:18:23 | 2015-04-17T22:53:47 | 55 | 18 |
[WP] Dragons decide leadership and settle conflict through cooking challenges. Human society LOVES when dragons have conflict, because mortals get picked to judge. When dragons fight, whole kingdoms get to eat for free. | Peasants, take pitchfork; knights take shield, too. You solemly know what you must do.
Driving pitchfork into the target that's seen: mounds and mounds of haute cuisine!
Unloaded onto waiting shields, then carried back as delectable yield
to the empty-plates and drinking glasses of the expectant, mouth-watering masses!
This ancient trade, as old as time: dragons duel, and mortals dine
Humans judge, with earnest zeal, the quality of their dragon chefs' meals.
But who will win, we all do ask? For ranking dragons is no easy task!
Blue dragon rules the fishies, and is the best at making sushis
Red dragon is envièd, for soups and stews and fresh-baked bread
Green dragon, beyond compare, serves spring salad and vegetable fare
Yellow dragon's acid spew brings ace lemonade and ceviche too
White dragon elicits your sweet tooth: ice cream, pops, and frozen fruit
Dracolich's yogurt, and sour pickles in brine: all fruits of the passage of time
Silver dragon's rule of air begets fluffy breakfast omelettes
Copper dragon's a hotshot with heat-conducting pans and pots
Brass dragon won't relent with their own peerless cooking implements
Which dragon cooks above them all? Whose cuisine shall answer our tastebuds' call?
Let's decide which dragon shall rule the air: as🐉 SUPREME DRACONIC CHEF PREMIÈRE! 🐉
Let the feast of a thousand beasts begin! | Sunday! Sunday! SUNDAAAAAAY!!!!! Draco Resolution Productions brings you the gastrointestinal throwdown of THE CENTURRRYYYY!!!! Lucius Dreadwing, He Who Strikes Fear In The Hearts of Men takes on Fangtooth Deathbringer, Scourge of the Seven Kingdoms in an EPIC-curian battle to decide the next ruler of the Saurian Guild! Everyone gets a ticket! Seats are available tomorrow at 9am!! VIP section available at extra cost! Call your friends, bring your kids, bring the pets, (bring flame retardant clothing)!! Come on down and FEEL THE BUUUUUURN!!!
DRP is not repsonsible for any GI discomfort, food poisoning, accidental incineration, or consumption of pets or children | 2022-01-02T14:21:40 | 2022-01-02T11:45:28 | 47 | 20 |
[WP]: Suddenly, everyone with tattoos gains powers related to the tattoo. Tattoos of flames, you control fire. A tattoo of a gecko, you can climb on walls. All dudes with "tribal" tattoos have strangely bonded together. | But it was the tramp stamps that surprised us.
Overnight castles sprang up all across the land. Each one home to its very own princess.
The professional modeling talent pool swelled to millions of extremely "hot" women.
People with "Insert X item" had coins and dildos flying out of the ass in amounts which should kill people.
Girls turned into actual life sized barbies. Honest plastic tits and no knee joints.
Some of the more lucky girls gained immense power with the "Strength" tattoos. Other girls started to "Love" everyone, and every thing. Dogs. Cats. Poles. Holes. Any hole. It was awful to watch.
If you thought you knew a bitch before the event, you were mistaken. Once this started to go down girls could rival only the devil himself for the title of most evil.
However, there was one person with one tramp stamp which turned the course of human events. Before then event it could only be described as the most stupid tramp stamp the world has seen. Now... now it was power. Power beyond meaning. "Your doing it wrong." Not "you're" but "your". It was misspelled.
No one could imagine what would happen. This girl. This woman became a weapon of power unimaginable. Just by looking at you she could make you do anything. She could turn you into anything. She could control anything. The tattoo was wrong. It made her just... wrong.
She turned children into pigs. Pigs into gold. Gold into a pile of horse shit. She could control power lines to execute people. Water to boil inside your cells. Just with a look. What was worse was she couldn't control it. The tattoo controlled her. The misspelling was everything. What ever caused this couldn't understand what the tattoo was meant to do.
Now the world hides. We are holding our breath. Prophesy says only a being with the tramp stamp "You're doing it wrong" can fix this. With a snap of their fingers all wrongs can be right. What tattoo do you have? | nothing seemed different for me at first, yes i had a tattoo, got it a long time ago and never really thought about it much.
i wished i had gotten a better one, like wings so i could fly, or dice so i could have luck.
see i thought id get something tribal but not full on Celtic knot nonsense so i got an eye on my right arm. stylized Egyptian, called it my eye of Ra.
looked it up after the powers were handed out, a feminine counterpart to the sun god Ra and a violent force that subdues his enemies.
so i did what i thought i was supposed to do, protect people.
miserable failure at that but i did survive a shooting.
ever realize when you look in a mirror that things are actually reversed? This isnt the eye of Ra, its the Eye of Horus.
symbol of protection, royal power, and good health.
Its been several decades since the powers were given, i am the first person to ever poll at 90% in a presidential election, and after surviving more than a dozen accidents i am recognized as the only true immortal in the world.
https://i.imgur.com/BOMB7ef.png | 2019-05-07T09:46:37 | 2019-05-07T09:15:00 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] You have a friend who's an expert in lucid dreaming. One day, they come to you and says they can't tell apart dreams from reality anymore. You tell them that "if this were a dream, you'd be able to fly right in front of me". And that's exactly what they do. | The nature of reality largely varies in its definition by its perception through an individual observer.
Perhaps a man lives in a world that was created by a god, a world full of magic and miracles caught between an everlasting war between deific entities.
Maybe to a woman reality is what was created through years of coincidental collisions between particles over millions and billions of years that eventually brought her into a small coffee shop between two abandoned buildings.
In either case, reality is on the surface no different from a dream. A beam of light split through a prism of endless interpretations. I hadn't been one to think of such things much until today, when my reality became my best friend of twelve years taking off into the sky at the speed of sound from a standing position right in front of my eyes.
"So what do you think?" he asked me. It was a fair question.
"I don't think that should be possible," I replied, the calmness of my voice inversely related to how much I was freaking out internally. My immediate reaction of a panic attack had fortunately faded at this point.
He had come to me that day, terrified, saying he went too far with lucid dreaming and could no longer tell apart dream from reality. I was naturally worried, his mental health had been declining recently and I had cautioned him that lucid dreaming was an unhealthy escape that he should not get himself hooked on.
He continued to insist that he was in a dream. I finally told him that he needed to wake up, that if this were a dream he'd be able to fly right in front of me. To say I didn't expect him to do just that would be an understatement.
I reassured him. "It makes more sense that you've developed super powers. You're probably an alien or something."
"Yeah... but that doesn't explain how I can do things like this," with a wave of his hand the apartment complex we were in had suddenly become a barren field, the once mountainous horizon was now entirely covered in sky. Or perhaps it had always been this way.
The reflex to vomit returned.
"This can't be happening. This isn't real. This is a nightmare."
I ordered myself to wake up, and my friend looked at me with pained eyes.
For I was not the dreamer; I was the dream. | After she flew in front of me I kind of panicked "stop" I yell "you are not dreaming". By this time I'm panicking what if I'm only a figment of his imagination? The thought that I could be nothing but a thought. Will I cease to exist if she wakes? "We have to think of this logically," I say "if you're dreaming when why do I have memories?" "Well, you can't feel if your just a dream," she says "perhaps I'm just imagining you to think you're alive" she gets an evil look on her face "what?" I look at scared now like she had evil an idea. Before i could anything she grabs me and lifts me over a cliff "please don't" I plea "don't do it" by this time she drops me waving bye-bye. I scream as I fall to my death. " I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, I don't wanna..." I open my eyes and see I'm in my room my wife looking at me sitting next to me on the bed eating a piece of toast off a trey with a intrigued look on her face, "bad dream again" she ask and i nod "hey I made us breakfast she motions to the tray. I look at her "you were in it this time". I just could only think what if.... | 2019-05-12T22:16:30 | 2019-05-12T21:20:59 | 49 | 12 |
[WP] It finally happened. The day Santa dreaded. He has to deliver presents to the first kid to be born on mars. | "Shit."
The elves around the room watched the large screen with expressions marred in both awe and horror. It could not be overstated how tremendous a moment in history this was; the first human to be born off-world, on Mars no less. They'd hoped that the Luna colony would have had that honor, it would have been much less of an issue to tolerate than Mars; but the facts were the facts.
There was a child on Mars, and only two days until Christmas.
Slowly, they all rotated in their chairs to await the instructions of the man sitting at the end, thoughtfully stroking his ragged white beard. If those humans were warriors for enduring the rush and stress of the holiday season, then he was a goddamn veteran. Thousands of years under his belt as the deliverer of gifts and bringer of cheer had hardened him into the guardian he was today.
He looked to his left at the equally wizened Mrs. Claus, who locked gazes with him. Her eyes were seas of emotions which he'd learned to read long ago. While they spoke of worry and fear for the journey ahead ... they also shone bright with faith in the only jolly soul around who could pull it off.
With a tired sigh, he pushed himself up from the chair and looked around at his council of helpers. "Ever since humanity expanded into space colonization, we've known this day was coming. Sooner than we hoped, but that can't be avoided now."
"How do you propose we deliver the gift? Magic only goes so far, and time is not on our side!" cried one of their tinny voices.
"We'll have to leave early. We can swing around Mars' orbit along a selected revolution path which takes us over the colony. When we're over the drop-point, I'll have to send it via orbital care-package. Might be a bit bumpy of a ride, but it should get there," muttered the old man, thinking more to himself than giving an explanation for the audience as a whole. "After that, we can use the remainder of our orbit to sling-shot back towards earth. If we ignore a few of our re-entry protocols, we can shave off a few minutes. That'll get us more time to cover the eastern continents."
The elves around the table listened intently, only nodding in agreement and setting off to make emergency preparations once he'd finished speaking. He watched them with steel in his eyes, and a fierce determination that swore not to let even one child, no matter the distance, go without a present on Christmas.
"Someone tell Rudolph to get his nose ready. Space is awfully fuckin' dark." | Santa picked up the last 5 gifts and packed them into his bag. He sighed, looking up into the sky. There were 3 hours left until he needed to deliver his first gift, and that first gift was to a young boy named Chester, the first person born on the planet Mars. Mars was colonized 2 years ago, but no one had been born up until a few months ago. As soon as Santa heard from his trusty News Elf, he was not looking forward to delivering these gifts. Not only would he have to take an extremely long trip up, he would need to have lots of special equipment to survive on the red planet. With all this in mind, he knocked on the door to his shed, and his reindeer trotted out. He attached the ropes to their saddles and put the ends of the ropes through the loop on the back of his sleigh. He set his gift bag in the back of the sleigh, and settled into his seat. He attached the air tubes to him and his reindeer, but was upset at how scared the animals were. "Once we make it there, and once we are inside the safe dome, I'll feed you some treats, okay?" Many of the deer smiled, and nodded. Santa smiled back, and yanked the ropes. The reindeer's little hooves ran across the North Pole snow, until the sleigh lifted into the air. Santa looked down and saw Mrs. Claus, along with all the other elves, waving him goodbye. Santa waved back, and looked back infront of him. The long trip began up to the red planet, to deliver 5 very important gifts.
My first r/WritingPrompts story! Sorry for it being so short. Hope you guys enjoyed it, I'll make more in the future! | 2017-11-24T15:06:14 | 2017-11-24T15:04:53 | 3,304 | 73 |
[WP] In a world where reincarnation with a full knowledge of your past life is real, authorities struggle to protect society by keeping the worst criminals and serial killers in prison alive for as long as possible to delay their eventual escape back into society via the reincarnation process. | Julia looked over the array of suspects. Twelve babies and a goat.
"Careful, one of them is a serial killer," she said to the nurses and the farmer. "I've been chasing The Cycle Killer through four lives."
What she did not say was that it was her fault that they had escaped again. Five minutes without being watched, and Cycle had managed to die, just to be reincarnated to do it all over again.
It had taken the spooks three months to narrow down these suspects. Julia understood that the babies were all born at the right time, and near one of the reincarnation nexus points that aligned with Cycle's death. The goat was a less likely suspect, but just the sort of thing they might try.
The first baby grabbed her finger when she looked into its eyes. The second baby tried to eat her entire hand. Julia wasn't sure if that was latent cannibalism or just normal baby stuff. The third baby ignored her, trying to find it's rattle hidden under its blanket. On down the line she went, examining each one.
The nurses thought it was the eighth baby, who had never cried. It had been born to a rich family, just the sort of target that the Cycle Killer looked for. Most of the rest had poor families.
The farmer thought it was the goat. Julia was pretty sure he just wanted to be able to sell the goat to her.
In the end she decided to keep the eighth baby and the goat for further observation. If one of them proved to be the killer, they would spend the next two decades in a rehabilitation and therapy clinic. The rest could go home for occasional checkups.
The nurses started handing babies back to relieved parents. The first baby was sleeping now. The second baby was still trying to eat every hand. The third had found its rattle.
She turned to leave when it struck her. The third had found its rattle, hidden under the blanket. She ran after that family.
A three month old had been looking for something that it could not see, and object permanence did not normally develop until around eight months.
She took the baby. As she looked into its eyes she said, "Got you, motherfucker!" | #"FINALLY!"
My triumphant cry echoed through the isolated laboratory.
I knew I had succeed where all the others before me had failed.
Animal experimentation had been their downfall. Too many differences from the human form.
I was pretty sure they would call me a Monster even though I'd been careful!
Only the undeserving had been the victims of my experiments!
Nothing but wholesome souls had been put through the trials, recycled through my failures, though I made certain to tell them my name and how their actions would benefit mankind!
Slowly I sank to the floor overwhelmed with the enormity of what had transpired.
Having finally succeeded in placing my unwilling test subject into Suspended Animation, slowing the aging of her existence down to a barely measurable level, I revived her and freed her, secure in the knowledge that her testimony along with those of my previous test subjects, would soon bring the Police.
I only hoped that my carefully taken notes and journals would aid the state in reproducing my results.
With nothing else left, and secure in the knowledge that if I stayed, I would assuredly be one of the first to undergo the process …
There was only one choice left to make sure the technology was implemented and the real Monsters were locked away from mankind for as long as we could.
I reached for the gun I had kept nearby for just this moment. | 2021-10-08T08:55:06 | 2021-10-08T08:12:07 | 151 | 48 |
[WP] Reversed Hades and Persephone situation: the Goddess of Life kidnaps the God of Death to be her new husband, meaning that six months of the year things are normal but the other half literally nothing is able to die. | The God of death began to loathe the station of his work. A spruce desk in which he signed off on every death that would happen tomorrow. Each day, the piles of paperwork grew higher and higher. He had several spectral servants help with processing each death as the god of fate did send the requests. Today however, the god of death rose from his station and sauntered through the grey wasteland of his domain. He passed by all manner of grey, black, and occasional crimson trim, but what took his eyes by surprise was something green and blue in his domain. A flower, unlike the throned ones with black petals, bloomed in the chaos. The god of death kneeled and ran a finger under a petal. Soft. The petal disturbed the god of death greatly.
“This is no place for the living.”
The god of death cupped the loose earth the flower grew in, and escorted the flower to the adjacent domain of life. When he arrived at the border, he found many similar flowers had invaded his lands. Furious, he began to replant the flowers in the goddess of Life’s domain. After many hours of digging with his bare hands, the god of death grew weary. The domain of life made his hands grow weary with each flower. He saw a creek nearby where he went to take a drink from the waters. As soon as he did, he felt a terrible pang in his chest. His legs began to move of their own volition and he walked towards the goddess’s palace where she awaited, sitting on a throne of petals.
She smiled as she gazed upon her prize. She rose from her station and took a lap around the god of death to admire him from every angle before adorning his head with a circlet of flowers.
“Those that take from the domain of gods are forever indebted to their service. A simple rule, usually for mortals who manage to wander in. Yet, I find you, the one I least expected to ever end up in my debt. But, make no mistake. You are that which I have most wanted.” After a brief pause, the goddess of life took the god of death’s cold hand and placed it on her cheek which felt like a cool breeze to her. She then said, “As my eternal and forever faithful servant, I believe, we are to be wed!” The goddess of life immediately began to laugh and dance about the courtyard when she then said to the god of death, “You may speak now, as you please, but please, do please.”
The god of death scowled as he chose his words carefully. He said, “This is all fine of you to have imagined, though you must allow me to return to my own domain. I am already terribly behind on my duties. The god of fate will have our heads if I neglect to approve of the deaths that they will want to transpire.”
“Oh, but Death! If those mortals were truly bounded by their fate to die, then why was it so easy for me to obstruct their deaths by me luring you here to be my husband? It is fate that you are mine and that you abandon your role as god of death. I feel it in my heart that this is so! Don’t you feel it in yours as well?”
The god of death did feel terrible pangs in his chest as he did before. He kneeled out of fatigue as he felt less and less divine in the presence of the goddess of life.
“Surely, you would allow me to consult the god of fate on such a matter?”
The goddess of life tipped his chin up and said to him, “I am your goddess of fate as of now. I will take no innocence from my new gothic muse. You may brood about your captivity in verse, but you are not to question the law of the gods. Now, we have a lot of planning to get done for the wedding.”
The god of death pondered one moment and said, “The suit I wear. Perhaps half should be adorned as you please or shall be pleasing to you, but half of it should be reflective of my own desires. I am after all, only half yours. Half of myself belongs to myself, for the river I drank of belongs to both of us, as it flows through my domain as well.”
“It is true that for half of your time you may belong to yourself, but make no mistake. You are entirely mine at the moment. I think I will make sure to have the god of love bless our marriage so that you will be forever faithful to me. How does that sound?”
His spirit broken, a small voice says, “Yes dear.”
“Be cheery, love, I am sure you will learn to love it here. You can do all the things you never could with me, and you will have so many children to bring us happiness. I can start filling out the forms for those little babies if you like.” She smiled as her fingers ran through his ebony hair.
“I don’t see myself as a father.”
“Oh, but I know you would be a wonderful one. You care so much about life, more than any other god. You care so much about life, yet you are finding it hard to care about me.”
“Life is a cruel creation by the gods. It is a fleeting thing that I care for as it is put to rest in a more peaceful, eternal state.”
“Oh yes, that is the kind of brooding I expect to hear more often.” She kissed him on the cheek as a sort of “reward” for his behavior.
The husk of what was once a proud man sank deeper and deeper inside himself. Eons passed. Every moment of his existence battered between the grueling work of a job and an omnipotent wife. He found very little pleasure in his children who took primarily after their mother, but one day, the goddess of life decided to write into life a daughter without the permission of the god of fate or goddess of souls. What resulted was a goddess that more resembled the god of death, a goddess of killing that was not bound by fate. A goddess that later freed her father of his servitude. The two live together peacefully in the death domain, though many of the gods and goddesses do fear that which the goddess of life created, a minor godling not bound by rules. Thus, sometimes, death happens when we least expect it. So never rest on your laurels, no matter how secure you may think you are. | With a heaving yell, Lukas pulled himself up and over the outcropping. He breathed out only once a bundled boot found purchase on the snowy ground. He stood, dusted himself down, and almost fell right back over the edge when he saw the monstrosity before him.
"Ho, young sardassi! The Sacred Grove is no place for mortals. Begone of this place," the giant bellowed, hefting a club larger than the spindled trees. "Or I will jelly your bones for my tapas."
The mouth was lower down the long face than Lukas would have guessed, but it was hard to see anything through the beard dense as a lion's mane. He winced against the raging wind and craned his neck up to the bloodshot eyes of the Nephilim.
"Step aside, godling. I have come to rescue death!" Lukas spoke, voice almost lost in the storm. "I will send you to wait in your grave if you do not."
His javelin was heavy in his weary hand, but was still too light to fly true this high to heaven. He denied the cold and did not shake, scanning the mountain left to climb above the behemoth and its ceiling of clouds finally looming close.
"With that toothpick, you would speak so boldly?" the giant boomed, smile showing moss-covered stones. "Death's little tryst has made paper heroes of you fools! I may not be able to set sail to the glimmer in your eyes, but I can still set you to rest here."
The giant smacked his belly and a dozen weak moans within cried out in discordant harmony. "You won't be lonely."
Lukas let the javelin fly from his hand, his exhaustion taking nothing from his form. The wind carried it far above the giant's head, tapping against the boulder above but nothing more.
"Hah! I will scrawl that little embarrassment onto your grave before I shit you into it." The giant laughed, hard enough to roll the stones, then harder still at his own horrifying promise. Lukas hoped it was enough.
Lukas sank his pick into the frozen ground at his feet then began wrapping himself snug against it. A distant tapping echoed off the blanketed cliffs above.
"And what game is this? First, you miss me then you try to dig in like a stubborn tick?" The giant stepped forward. The tapping grew brothers, tap tapping together.
"I didn't miss," Lukas said, white knuckled against the handle as the mountain began to roar.
The giant fell, legs busting as the avalanche crashed into the clearing of his home. "Damn you, fool! I'll-"
He was swept off the edge without another word as the white covered Lukas. He felt his skin burn with the flooding snow, filling his eyes and his lungs. He slept for a time.
Were death to be available, it would have taken him. Instead, he woke and set to work digging upward, lifeless strength unabated. He was a grave waiter now, suffering in limbo alongside his father. He looked up the short trail, all that was left of his long journey. He would free death and all the grave waiters alongside.
The garden of life stood framed by a grand wall of vines. Lukas tapped the single knocker, hard to spot through the thickets.
The garden opened its pulsing yonic doorway, spilling flower petals accompanying its sweet warmth. Lukas took no break to savor its radiance.
They lounged, the pair, right in front of him with no pomp, no circumstance, looking so much handsome man and wife rather than Gods.
"And who are you?" The Goddess asked, lowering her wine and raising an eyebrow. "I am quite busy as you can see with my cherished guest." She held a hand unburned over one of the flaming pillars.
"I've come to rescue death and end the suffering of the grave waiters," Lukas said, holding his third and last weapon, the curved blade of his father.
The man chuckled, downing his drink and twirling the thin sickle in his left hand. It chirped in sad birdsong. "I require no rescue, lad. Though I did fight initially, I've grown rather fond of the Sacred Grove and its many delights. I believe I will stay through the winter and return to clean up your messes in the spring. Thanks for the offer, but begone."
"I thought that might be your answer," Lukas said, holding out the sword.
"No mortal hand can wield this," Death said, waving his sickle. "Rob me and it will burn through to your soul."
Kicking over the pillar nearest to blaze against the foliage, Lukas jumped forward. A landing, one clean slice, a muted scream and it was done.
"Bloody scamp cut off my hand," Death said, holding up the stump incredulously.
Lukas gritted his teeth and sliced again, sending his own left hand to flop on the stones. He shoved the god's hand in its place and held the mangled mess over the fires of the Goddess of life. The wound began to mend. The fingers tingled.
"What have you done!" The Goddess yelled, looking at him with either awe or disgust.
"Nothing yet," Lukas said, flexing his new hand. He twirled the Godsteel tool and it chirped with giddy need of work. "But there is much I will."
The sickle sang twice and the garden grew still.
---------
If you enjoyed this, check out my subreddit, /r/surinical. | 2022-11-15T19:19:07 | 2022-11-15T18:36:56 | 138 | 33 |
[WP] After traveling for the first time in your time machine, you go back 100 years only to discover that the black and white pictures were because everything REALLY WAS black and white. Intrigued, you decide to go back before photography was invented... | I can't remember what button I had hit.
Everything is just sort of spinning now.
It must have been either the late 17th or early 18th century. The clothing and buildings would have been my first hint, the lack of cars and cobble-paved walkways the next, but the real tip off.... was the pale.
Oh, how I had never seen human before. All these years, our fascination with the Mona Lisa, only now did it seem strange to me, eery even. All those rubenesque paintings, now suddenly so lifeless and... deathly. These were not, none of these were EVER a mere form of art style.. nor of makeup....
The people were pale. The people, their expressions, their movements. They appeared in slow motion. Their eyes, they did not connect to mine, rather they almost appeared to look through me as I passed them by. Everyone was so luminescent, I must have looked as some froggish ogre to them. The texture of my face, the blood in my skin, the very weight of my hair against my forehead, it was all so dense in comparison to the effervescent beings of which I was surrounded. I must have appeared in both appearance, and manner, to be that of a genuine monster.
And they were angels. But they were angels not of the christian lore. They were angels of the old legend. The ones that were cold and calculating, and would eat your heart faster than a siren upon a shipwreck.
Only now did I notice, how they circled around me. Here, I had thought I had become lost in a loop of time, but I had never considered that perhaps they were merely drawing nearer with each step. | I arrived in what I assumed is Florence during the Renaissance. I assumed so because whenever I look, everything seems to be painted in the styles of artists from that era. By painted I mean everyone and everything seems to be a form of oil or watercolour or whatever these artists used to paint. I look at my hands. They look flaky, like dried oil pastels. This might take some getting used to.
Everyone was staring at me. I realized that I was still dressed from the 21st century. I'm getting nauseous. Everything seems to be moving in stop motion and its weird when I'm moving at the same rate as that too. I vomited and realized that I just created a huge greenish reddish blob on the brown ground. I can't stand this.
I passed out. | 2015-11-12T16:14:58 | 2015-11-12T15:08:58 | 54 | 16 |
[WP] Every species is hazed when they achieve FTL travel. The galactic community sends in warships to batter the new interstellar member into submission before extending an olive branch. But never before had they encountered a species with “Space Marines” who burrow into their ships for close combat | The deck underfoot shuddered as the ventral railgun spat out another tungsten shell. A flash of light briefly connected the two ships. Molten metal splashed out into space like a flower unfurling towards the sun.
Space combat was usually a ballet in three dimensions, ships twirling and pirouetting at distances measured in dozens if not hundreds of kilometers.
The federation ship fired its thrusters, trying to gain space. Bulbous, elegant, pearlescent, unmatched by anything of similar size in the great beyond between worlds. The ship it faced couldn't have been more different. It was a blunt arrow of metal, ugly, slab sided, scarred by micro impacts and spearing after the federation cruiser on comically oversized engine nozzles.
"Incoming ordnance!" called out the Prethenian weapons officer, the distinctive flanged voicebox rasping out the words. "By the gods, they're huge!"
The ships Captain risked raising the bridge shutters for a view, watching as the torpedo's streaked towards them on plumes of green fire, the ugly primates ship veering away and twisting.
"Secure all decks! All magnetic locks to full!" Called the captain over the intercom, checking the magnetic seal on his own boots. Several small items were already floating around on the bridge, jarred loose by earlier impacts.
The torpedoes impacted amidships, just off the ships main transport artery with a scream of tortured metal but the expected explosion never came.
"Negative explosion on impact" confirmed the weapons officer. "Looks like they aren't as advanced as we thought if they can't.."
"Weapon discharge on main arterial!" Cried another officer over the Parthenian. "We've been boarded!"
The captain pulled out his sidearm and drew his dueling saber as most of the bridge crew repeated the gesture, taking several slow mag-locked footsteps towards the bridge door.
"This is probably the worst first contact in the history of the federation." He growled. "Repel boarders. We'll show them some mettle and then we can hail them once our ship is secure."
"Aye!" Cried the crew. Just as the bridge door exploded inwards, pulverising them with the contained pressure wave
Ceramic composite boots appeared through the smoke in front of the captain's greying vision, a small metal bird of some form visible on the figures hip. He didn't hear the words spoken by the alien figure as everything went dark.
"Queen of Serenade, this is Commander Riley. Command deck secured, explosives planted. We're pulling out.". The giant armoured alien looked at the furred form at his feet as it lay still, bleeding out. "Alien scum." He growled out as stamped down on its chest. "For the Federation." | The federation was a galactic organisation comprised of millions of species, over the generations a policy of aggressive (pre or starting ftl) first contact was established.
And why is that?
Every species who have not had a aggressive first contact would become warlike, it is simple to do maths. 1-5 million new aliens dead? Or 17 - 50 billion civilians dead due being nice.
Well, I don’t know what your political leadership is thinking or doing for entire species to reliably go to war disadvantaged but I might think we will find reliable allies in… the diforunant
Their is any so many people you have human. So what if you have 7 billion? We got over 30 billion in this sector alone dedicated to taking down new arrivals!
Thanks, that better odds then we thought. When you go back to your pow camp, play halo, mass effect and WARHAMMER. You will understand how outmatched you are.
12 solar rotations later…
POW message
Sender : captain 2nd class roughal
Receiver: enlisted 1st class shikina
Topic: human war preparedness and history
————————————————————————
I think we might be screwed, shikina, humanity has a very, very long history of ‘imaging hostile first contact wars. Hec, their current military doctrine (including those damn cursed “space marines”) is based on those media sources.
One example from “halo” is the Cole protocol. “If a ship or system is about to fall all navigational data must be destroyed, all Ai wiped and anything that could be used deleted vila manual or by technological viruses”
Or how about something from Warhammer?
exterminatus - the complete eradication of life from a planetary surface.
I honestly don’t believe our federation chances of winning this conflict, so I think we need to prepare for the long haul.
From your father - roughal | 2022-07-18T13:18:23 | 2022-07-18T04:22:13 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] By some magic, you are granted the wish to become the best in the world at something. You are disappointed when you notice no change in your ability. The next day, however, you notice that all over the world, people are becoming worse at one very particular skill. | The crowd booed and threw peanuts at the retreating figure on stage. Richie swallowed down the last of his warm beer and grimaced. It hadn’t been the best day for him either: all that practice and it turned out the genie had just been pulling his leg.
He slammed the glass back on the bar counter, and thought of the lamp sitting at the bottom of the river. Served the bastard right, Richie thought with a bitter laugh. He sat back in his seat heavily and silently hoped that blue-skinned bastard had enjoyed his once-in-a-lifetime prank. Maybe in another millennia, when some distant human found the lamp washed up on some distant shore, the Genie would have learned his lesson.
The MC walked up onto stage and faced the mouldering crowd. He was sweating visibly. Open Mic nights were always shit, Richie knew – out of tune, naïve teen girls or drunken arseholes who screamed into the mic and beat their strings like they were less Johnny Cash and more Chris Brown – but tonight was especially cancerous. Even that Chinese dude who studied classical at St Edwards across town completely had completely choked up. For a moment, Richie had thought it was some university avant-guard bullshit (and so had the more ‘woke’ of the crowd) but that impression hadn’t lasted past the third barre-chord. If you could call strangling the fret board and snapping two strings a “chord”.
“Hey, thanks so much Mik-,“ the MC stammered, a false smile plastered thinly across his face. The crowd was having none of it. Peanuts flew with renewed vigour; some unseen face graduated to a piece of cocktail fruit. The rage of three-dollar cover at the door was beginning to grow into an unspeakable, seething inferno of hatred that not even the sudden tequila special could douse.
The MC dodged the fruit. Perhaps it was practice for the first glass. Richie signalled to the barman, handed over a fistful of dollars, took a beer. Sipped. Waved away the change. The poor man deserved it, Richie thought. He took up his guitar and faced the stage. Things wouldn’t be so bad tonight, he figured. He’d been practicing. He wanted to play. Unlike the other guitarists: half of them hadn’t even pitched up.
The MC saw Richie standing there and his face lit up like he had seen Jesus walking out of his tomb. At the very least, it was someone else to take the brunt of the bar’s complimentary snacks.
“Next up, we have Richie! Yeah! Give it up for Richie.”
The crowd didn’t give up anything. It didn’t give up one solitary fuck.
Richie lugged himself onto stage, plugged his guitar in, and made sure his beer was within reach. He ran his fingers up and down the fretboard. The strings squeaked mutedly. He faced the crowd, which had fallen into a terse, expectant silence: the silence of storms about to break.
Richie coughed into the microphone loudly, and tapped it three times with his index finger. “Testing one, two, te- hey everyone what’s up.” The mic shrieked with feedback, popping as his index hammered on its latticed metal. “I’m Richie.”
His fingers curled into the first chord of his opening song. It was a G. He thought. Maybe a G-add9. Shit, what came next? An E? A C? Fuck it. It was Open Mic. It’s not like he was the greatest guitar player in the world.
“Anyway,” he said into the mic, “This is Wonderwall.” | I watched the shooting star go by. I'd heard the stories, making a wish and all that. Figured I'd better give it a shot. I hadn't expected anything, of course I hadn't! But that was the best hope I had left. I'd been preparing for the dance contest for months. I had no natural rhythm, very little athletic ability and poor hearing. But I hadn't been smart enough to go for the traditional bad at dancing white guy moves. No I hadn't been able to look into the mirror and accept The Sprinkler into The Shopping Cart and finish off with a Dab.
I had cursed my best friend, Isaac, for signing me up. I'd tried to get a simple routine down, aiming to not embarrass myself that was it. I just wanted to be the best in the world at The Macarena. It was still embarrassing, but I could pass it off as a nostalgic humor thing, just so long as I could pull it off at 2x speed. It wasn't looking promising. I'd cried a little, this wasn't going to impress any girls.
The next morning I did a warm up and a few runs through of the routine. I hadn't improved. And now hope was dead. I had breakfast and tried to ignore the clock as long as possible. Mom pushed me out the door and shouted at me to get to the bus stop. First period was fine. I managed to kick Isaac seven times before it was over. Then it was the pep rally. I could always run. But I'd drawn blood from Isaac and he was holding it over me. I skip the dance and he gets me suspended. He could make it happen, too.
Three others went first. They destroyed it. Ballerina dancing and break dancing and some sort of intense athletic jazz thing... I stepped out, dressed as a large bronzed robot from my favorite game. Everything was going as well as I expected. Laughing and pointing followed by rude imitations. That was when everything went wrong. Guys were jabbing themselves in the eyes and women fell out of the bleachers and teachers started screaming. They turned off the music as the entire school erupted into spastic, horrible Macarena-ing.
There were twenty serious injuries. And, of course, it'd been captured on phones. And was uploaded. People thought they were being funny. The Macarena started making a comeback, ironically. There were fatalities. No one did practice runs, they were more comfortable than me with dancing. Right up until people realized the dance was cursed. I never danced again. No one asked too many questions. Some weirdos showed up but I dodged questions and avoided getting into cult territory. I stopped following the news, I could stand hearing about selfies gone wrong and people dancing on cliffs. I let it end there. Isaac never talked about it again. But, overall, it had been less embarrassing than I'd expected. | 2017-05-01T05:28:14 | 2017-05-01T01:19:52 | 28 | 15 |
[WP] You and your three siblings are immortal, but you haven’t seen them in almost 400 years. You live far away from civilization, so it’s a surprise when a group of soldiers arrive at your doorstep. They say you’re the only one who can kill the three warlords who are revenging the rest of the world | I sighed, setting my mug down on the wooden table, lips pursuing as I turned a page in the rather thick book I had been reading for the past week. Being immortal had its downfalls, although it did leave a surprisingly large amount of time to catch up on modern literature.
A knock on the door interrupted my peaceful reading and my eyes narrowed, back straightening in the chair I was sitting in. The last time I had company was… 400 years ago. Thoughts of ignoring whomever it was at the door raced through my head before they knocked again, this time harder and sharper.
"For f-" I continued to mutter expletives underneath my breath as I stood, carefully placing a bookmark to keep my place. The last time I had even heard a whisper from anyone was three years ago, when my father had died, and even then it was only a crude note posted through my door.
I caught my reflection in the mirror beside the front door, setting a deep scowl on my face. Whoever it was, it was worth looking intimidating. Maybe they would go away instead of talking if I did. Fingers grasped the door handle and I pulled it down, the sharp click silencing the murmurs on the other side of the wood as I pulled it open.
"Yes?" My eyebrow quirked, irritation quickly turning to curiosity as I surveyed the gaggle of soldiers on my doorstep. They look… scared. And tired. The world hadn't seemed to have changed one bit since I locked myself away.
"My lady, we need your help." A frown furrowed my brow at the official title, deepening as the soldier nearest me took a step backwards.
"Help with… what?" I asked, at a loss as to why they would interrupt me. In the middle of a nice cup of tea and a novel no less.
"Your siblings they… they are turning the world to ashes. They announced themselves by tearing down the Houses of Parliament during a live broadcast and…" The soldiers voice trailed off and I sighed, my hand raising to pinch the bridge of my nose.
Yes… my lovely siblings. I was only one of four you see, and growing up with three brothers wasn't the best. Fortunately I was the oldest, something that I had made sure they never forgot, although I couldn't quite remember when our birthdate had been. The second oldest was Warren. Always fighting and causing trouble for our parents. Third oldest was Paul, a boy with an uncanny knack for doing things with science and illnesses that just… shouldn't have been touched. And then the youngest was Fredrik. A fussy eater, but the baby of the family.
"Can't you just… put them in jail?" I questioned, fixing my gaze on the soldier that seemed to have put himself in charge. "That's the thing… they were jailed, by order of your father. But when… when he passed, they broke free."
Of course my father had them jailed… why hadn't I thought of that to begin with? A sigh escaped my lips once again, emerald gaze drifting to my black cloak hanging beside the door. It was raining, and I didn't really want to leave my house. Despite these soldiers coming to me and asking for assistance, I had the funny feeling I wouldn't be returning back to my home.
"We don't have a chance against them without you. War has broken out, children are starving, there's illnesses running rampant and our scientists can't keep up." I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore the soldiers pleas. This had happened before, of course it had, but not on this scale. "They killed my son." My eyes opened at the female voice, gaze landing on a soldier with fairer features than the rest. Lips pressed together in a thin line, I pulled my cloak from its hook, throwing it around my shoulders, shuddering as the shadow laced material clung to me.
"Fine." I spoke, and the soldiers relaxed, moving aside to grant me a path to leave my home. My hand reached out, wrapping around the handle of my weapon and pulling it to my side, eyes scrutinizing the blade to make sure it was still in perfect condition.
"Do you have a name?"
I ran my thumb along the underside of the scythe, placing it in my mouth to capture the red droplets that had appeared. Yes. Still sharp.
"Yes."
The soldiers shuffled in uncertainty, moving away from me as I stepped into the world, stretching and casting my gaze to the sky.
"What is your name?"
The soldier persisted and I narrowed my eyes, letting the base of my scythe hit the ground with a hollow thud, the grinding of stone accompanying it as my home sank into the ground, hidden from these humans that did like to disturb my slumber.
"Death." | This wasn't at all apart of my plan, I was supposed to come back and open up my cafe. I've spent nearly 800 years developing the best recipe of all my family favorites. Yet somehow I managed to find myself in the middle of a war zone between three of the most stubborn, hardheaded, egotistical asswipes I've had the pleasure of calling my siblings.
You see yesterday was the day, after centuries of working on my coffee I've finally managed to brew a flavor I've only tasted once in my life. My great grandmother was an amazing potions master. She developed some of the most vital potions in today's age, from the instant healing to the strength maximum potions, however the one potion which has accomplished more in our family's life time was her coffee.
This coffee was the elixir of life, given to your average man, he could live an extra 15 years even on his death bed. To an immortal like myself, it produces define energy. Amplifying my power 10 fold, I could topple an entire nation with just a sip of my great grandmother's coffee.
This was it, I've finished, I found the elixir. However I had no idea what I had to use it on. They came knocking around noon, covered in dirt and blood. It took me by surprise, after all I lived deep the jungles of Africa. To get here was practically impossible to the mortal man. Yet here they were speaking the language of my ancestors. I asked how they found me.
"your mother sent us" they said.
My mother? But why? What did she want? She knew what I was doing, did she know I've completed my work?
"it's your siblings, they have been terrorizing us for generations now." they all fell to their knees. "They have forced us to slave for them and fight their wars." the soldier explained.
"listen, it's not really my place to get involved in their affairs. It's non of my business what they choose to do to mortals." I said. The look on their faces saddened me. It was as if my words cut the only ties to hope they had left. I couldn't just send them away, so I had to invite them in.
I brought them into my home, it wasn't big but, it was nice, comfortable for me to live in peace. I offered my coffee to ease their pains, although if I'm being honest it was only to see if I had truly succeeded I'm making the elixir of life. They all drank, they all loved it, however they glowed a peculiar glow for a moment. Almost green, maybe neon. They didn't notice but I did. Their wounds healed and they all looked completely energized.
"what was this?," they asked.
I smiled and simply said. "an old family recipe," I sat them down and asked them to explain how they came across my mother. If she wanted me to entervene it must've been really bad, even for them.
They told me how around 400 years ago they suddenly displayed powers non had shown before, how they started killing world leaders and began fighting amongst themselves. Since then the world has known constant war. Apparently my mother had enough and ordered them to stop, but seems they don't respect her without father around. So now it looks like I'll have to set them straight.
"alright, looks like I have no choice." I said.
"so you'll kill them for us?" asked the soldier with excitement.
"you want me to kill my little sister and brothers? For you mortals,"
"it was your mothers words, she said it had to be done. For our survival,"
Edit: Sorry I can't finish it time for school. I'll come back later. | 2019-08-29T05:21:07 | 2019-08-29T05:06:44 | 68 | 25 |
[WP] Make me fall in love with a character, only to end up hating said character with ONE sentence at the end
Can be about anything you want, I just think this will be very difficult to do with one last sentence at the end of the whole thing. | He was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Ever since the day her nephew was born, she swore with her heart that she will do everything in her power to make him happy. She smiled at the baby in her arms, softly cooing to him as his eyelids grew heavy. The silence between them allowed her mind to wander, exploring every bit of the past two months that he had been in her life. She loved him like he was her own child, ever since she first saw him in his tiny hospital crib.
She tried her best to be there for him and her sister whenever she could. Whether it was babysitting in the afternoon or driving them to the hospital for check-ups, if she had any free time, she would devote them to her baby nephew.
Her small smile grew wider as she thought about his future, Imagining him growing up, going through school, meeting a girl and getting married. She wanted to be there every step of the way. She wanted him to know that he always has his aunt to turn to if he needs help and she hoped that he'll love and care for her when she grows old.
She wanted to be the best aunt ever, the one that he would want to see at holiday dinners, the one that he can share his secrets with when he's too embarrassed to tell his parents. There's so much ahead, and she couldn't wait to be a bigger part of his life.
"I don't know how you do that." Her sister said incredulously, breaking her train of thought, "He never sleeps when I want him to."
"Well I'm more than happy to help you out." She whispered softly, trying not to wake the sleepy boy in her arms. She carefully placed him back into his crib, almost sad to let him out of her reach.
"Give me a call whenever you need me okay?" She said while she hugged her sister before opening the front door to leave.
As she stepped into her car, she could feel the heat that had built up in the summer sun. Thoughts of her nephew were still on her mind as she rolled down the windows. She put on her seatbelt and got ready to go home, but not before tossing a disdainful glance to the back seat, where she had left her her own daughter to sleep. | He gazed into her eyes as she lay next to him on the bed. Even after all these years, he still admired the way her hair looked in the morning. Unkempt, but somehow beautiful.
He thought about how they'd met. She was working at a movie theater. She had giggled when he asked for her number. It wasn't long until they were inseparable. He recalled afternoons laying together, watching the clouds, talking and laughing.
She had never gotten over the miscarriage. Well, she had gotten over it, but he knew; he could *feel* it. It still lingered in the back of her mind. He could see the pain when he looked into her eyes. He still loved her, but he knew that she - having carried the child for so long - could never look at him the same way. She had even gone so far as to say that they could no longer be together, that their relationship was over. He shook his head at this painful memory, thankful that that part of their lives had passed. He looked again at her face, and kissed her on the cheek.
As her movement slowly became more fatigued, and eventually stopped, he released his hand from her mouth, pulled his knife from her chest, got up, and walked away - taking one last look at her as he crawled out of her bedroom window. | 2013-10-08T18:49:03 | 2013-10-08T18:40:53 | 141 | 22 |
[WP] Everyone is born with blond hair. A person's hair turns brown when they lose their innocence.
Edit: Loving all of these takes, guys! Definitely a lot darker than I expected! | *Note: I absolutely hate the way the word blond looks, so I refuse to ever use it. Sorry.*
"What...the...*fuck*?" Mark asked in a hushed tone. Joanna saw Anne flinch. Typical. Anne was so determined to protect her innocence, as though hearing one curse word was going to change her precious golden locks. Joanna had never been so protective of her own hair.
"I don't know!" shrieked Joanna. "It just happened."
"Has anyone else seen this?"
"No. Only you two." Mark and Anne, her closest friends, so different in personality and hair. Mark kept his brown curls cropped short, whereas Anne preferred to grow out and show off her blonde hair.
When she first met Mark, he had dirty blonde hair, but years of living with an alcoholic father and a mother who wouldn't stay put had robbed him of what little innocence he had left.
Nothing seemed to touch Anne. Joanna and Mark joked amongst themselves that her hair was only growing lighter.
Joanna had thought her hair would have turned brown ages ago. She had sex with Mark. She had stolen. She told lies and lusted and drank; she did all the things that would have made Anne gasp in horror, but her hair stayed stubbornly blonde.
Until now.
"Joanna," Anne spoke up. "I...this isn't natural."
"I know that! So what the hell do I do?"
Anne shook her head. "I don't know. I have to go."
Joanna blinked at her stupidly. "What do you mean, you have to go? Go where?"
"Home. I'm sorry, sweetie, but the way you look...I love you, you know that, but I can't be around you! I don't want that happening to me."
"Hair color isn't *catching*, Anne," Mark muttered.
Anne turned to Mark, eyes flashing. "You're one to talk. Maybe if you had been a better influence, this wouldn't have happened."
"Don't put this on me! I didn't have anything to do with it. It's unheard of."
They were arguing over her like divorced parents who didn't want custody, Joanna realized. Mark wouldn't outright say it, but he didn't want to be around her, either.
"You should cut it," Anne advised her before walking out the door. "Shave your head, wear a scarf, anything. You look...you should cover it."
Joanna looked at Mark, tears streaking her face. "What do I do?" she whispered.
Mark looked back at her uneasily. "You do what Anne says. And maybe go see someone. A doctor or something."
"You're going, too," Joanna said. She didn't need to ask. Mark was fidgeting, looking anywhere but at Joanna's hair.
"I'll be in touch," Mark said. And then he was gone.
Joanna sat in numb silence for a few minutes, then stood up suddenly and grabbed a pair of scissors from the kitchen. She would need to go to a hair dresser to do the job properly, but this would have to serve.
She stood in front of her bathroom mirror, stomach turning at the sight of herself.
The only sound came from the scissors snipping away her long, red hair. | Everywhere I looked I saw alternating seas of blond and brown crossing the busy intersections. Like busy termites they paraded around their mundane little lives without a care in the world. I have to admit that part of me wondered how the change took place at first.
Most of the people had "turned" by the time they left high school. I remember the scandals that would cause since the moment someone's hair turned, everyone knew that something had happened. Of course, some were much better at theorycrafting than others. Rumors swirled about the new girl Sandra the moment she walked into our rotten halls. Her hair was a rich shade of platinum, reflecting the sunlight that she could see reflecting off of the drooling boys who she graced with her presence. The other girls weren't pleased with this, and envied the doe-eyed innocence that she exuded. She was as outgoing and friendly as any other person, except unlike the tainted bitches that tried their hardest to infect her with their misery, she was genuine about everything she did. I've seen her angry, upset, and frustrated at the numerous attempts of these girls but no matter what they did, her golden locks would stay the same.
When she got together with Randy the exchange student, everyone was sure that the change was going to happen. Who could blame them? Most of the dupes I knew were eager to hook up with the first girl or guy who said yes. We waited anxiously for the day to come but it never did, not even after they had broken up. Randy was furious when it happened, and I was there to witness the rapid change in his hue. Even as that happened there was no change in Sandra. Eventually people just gave up in trying to figure her out. She was nice, after all, and she never bothered anybody.
It wasn't until I saw her again years later that I had an idea of how she kept her locks in such a pristine shape. While lazily flipping through channels one day, I saw her on some video footage being aired on the news. People were baffled by how such a person could calmly walk over to someone, slash their throat, and then go back to eating dinner as if nothing had happened. All that really captivated me was that even when she went through that, there was still no change in her hair at all. | 2014-05-10T23:11:01 | 2014-05-10T19:53:59 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] We wear the masks on the back of our heads so they think that we’re watching them. They will follow you home if they don’t think you’re watching. If you ever lose your mask, Don’t Break Eye Contact With Them. Walk backwards, and prey that there isn’t another one on the trail ahead. | Stay in the light and they can't reach you. Watch them so they can't chase you. Fool them so they can't attack you. Words of a long forgotten time when monsters in the dark were real. Over time the horrors that the darkness could hold were forgotten but they were never lost, just waiting.
The beat pounded heavily in Willow's head as she swayed her hips to the music surrounded by sweaty dancers. The bar was full tonight, full of people who came to forget their lives for a little bit. Katie grinded up against Willow as the music continued drilling into her head. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom!" Willow attempted to tell her friend over the loud music. Katie mustve figured enough from her gestures and nodded her head before continuing to grind up on some random guy. The line for the bathroom was long but by the time she got back Willow couldn't see Katie anywhere. She headed over to the bar and saw her friend chatting up the guy she was previously dancing with. "Hey Will, this is Phillip. He was just asking if I'd want to go home with him. Do you think you'll be right?" She asks clearly indicating that Willow should just find her own way home. "Yeah sure thing, have fun." Willow remarked sarcastically before making her way through the doors into the cold night. Lamps lined the street that she walked down. The cold wind bit into her bare legs as Willow slowly made her way home. Some of the lights flickered creating moments of darkness and it was one of these flickers that caught her attention. Thinking she saw someone she looked around only to find herself alone. She turned back to the flickering lamp and watched. The light showed only the concrete ground, but in the brief flicker of darkness, Willow swore she saw something. Her heart started to pound out of her chest as she saw its silhouette again but slightly closer. She turned to run as more and more of the streetlights started to flicker, but she knew from the second she saw the creature that it was futile. The long gangly limbs, stick like body and black silhouette were straight out of her nightmares. Willow stumbled in her heels and kicked them off in an attempt to run faster. She needn't look to know that the creature crept closer and closer in the impeding darkness. She stumbled over to the ground screaming as she knew it sealed her fate. As she turned to face the monster it froze. Barely a metre away she could see every jagged joint and pointed tooth. But the creature didnt move. Then it hit her, she couldnt look away. This information didnt do anything to ease her anxiety however as she willed her eyes not to shut against the water welling in them. She knew she was fighting a losing battle. Tears started streaming down her face as she chanted a mantra to herself. " Don't blink."
Hey this is my first shot at one of these and i know it definitely aint the best but thanks for reading anyway. | I backed away slowly, making sure my gaze never leaves the creature in front of me. My arms was outstretched be hind me, desperate to cling onto something for support. My eyes sting from being unable to blink. I wanted, I had to, but if I give this monster a moment, even just a moment, it can end my life.
I slipped on my last step from the stairs, making me flinch and look away for a split second from it. I cursed and gazed back at the entity. Before, it was standing a good tweny feet away from me. Within that split moment, it is now within arm’s reach of me. I almost screamed and ran but I fought against it. This is my only option. To walk stare this creature in the eye until I get home.
I was a few feet away from my home this being is extremely far from me. I can barely see it at the end of the road and the night sky is barely helping me. I was slowly backing away, reaching for my door with my right hand when the neighbor’s cat jumped from the fence onto a trash can, causing a loud crash. The noise made me flinch. My mind raced to thoughts unimaginable. I was home. I was so near. I almost made it. I cannot die like this. I returned my eyes to the entity. I saw its silhouette across the street. I let out a deep breathe. I was safe. It did not reach me. I moved back even more, my hand still feeling for the knob. As I was losing patience, the door opened behind me. My safe haven welcoming me.
But it was not. Standing in front of me was it. With my face. Smiling. It did reach me. It has taken my place. Taken my face. I tried to get in, but i cannot. I struggled with an invisible force to no avail. How can I get in? Why would I get in? I am no one. I am nothing. I needed to find a face. But which one? They confuse me. I need a face. But not now. Not here. They are watching me. | 2020-07-01T05:20:12 | 2020-07-01T04:57:35 | 106 | 76 |
[WP] You die and go to Hell only to find out that you're the only person that has ever entered. Satan is clapping. | A bone-jarring impact jolts me awake, followed by a few seconds of searing pain. I try to sit up, but the searing pain keeps me on by back. After a moment, the pain begins to subside and I'm able to sit up and take stock of my situation. When I look down at myself I nearly pass out. What once was a mostly healthy, slightly overweight body is now a mangled purple husk...
"What.... happened?" I say to myself... After a few moments my memory returns... Fuck. Why'd I have to go base jumping from the Petronas Towers while on vacation in Malaysia? It's clear that the impact I heard was ME hitting the ground. Where am I anyway? This clearly isn't Kuala Lumpur.
I struggle to my feet, amazed that my wrecked form can handle that much. Looking around I see nothing but a small room that seems to be carved from bedrock. There is no furnishings of any sort. A faint light glows from the ceiling above, but I can't see any actual source. I spot a door on one wall.
Despite an inexplicable feeling of dread, I am compelled toward the door. I open it and step into a hallway. The walls are transparent, and through them lies everyone's worst nightmare. Fire and brimstone. Lava flowing down into pits. It dawns on me... I'm in HELL.
From the other end of the short hallway, a man steps through the door. He's dressed in ragged black robes that seem to be worn over the top of even more ragged red robes. His beard is black, with a stripe of white running down the middle. The most alarming feature are two rams horns spiraling around each side of his head.... He's... clapping?
"Who are you!?" I demand with alarm.
"Who am I?" he says, "There are some who call me... Tim. But you? You can call me Satan. Or just Stan if you wish. Welcome to hell!"
I snort in amusement. "Really? A Monty Python joke? Do you greet people like this all the time?"
"Uh... well... you could say that. You're the first one to arrive." he admits.
"What? With all the murderers and rapists on earth, *I* am the first one to go to hell? How the fuck does THAT work!? I've never killed anybody, harmed anyone, or stolen anything." I shout
Stan sighs as if defeated. "Do you honestly think God would condemn his children to eternal pain and torture? The only way I'm ALLOWED any souls is through making deals... and after the humiliation of losing a fiddle contest to some snot-nosed kid I haven't really cared to try. My last effort was an attempt at a cyber-contract. All they had to do was pay for a piece of software and I'd own their soul."
The sense of dread gets deeper... I know why I'm here. I know what doomed me to hell.
"Fuck... You mean I'm the only one that paid for WinRar?"
Stan grins at me and says "Like I said. Welcome to Hell."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Interested in feedback. This is probably the second time I've ever written in Writing Prompts... I don't know why I haven't done it more. I always have a blast making this stuff up.
Edit: Holy cow! I didn't really expect this to explode like this. Thanks for the Updoots and all the kind comments! :) I think I'll have to do more of these!
Edit 2: This post has more than doubled my total comment karma..... I'm kinda flabbergasted... Thank you all again!
Edit 3: Wow... Gold... Thank you kind stranger!! | “You’re here. Finally. I was getting sick of you living.
You were truly pathetic when you were alive, I hope that will change soon enough because I’ve been told I am going to need you.”
The devil spoke in a way you couldn’t tell his emotions if he had any. His voice was steady and when he spoke your attention was drawn towards him, towards his silhouette which gained more and more contrast and detail.
At this point, the surroundings were visible as well. It was a forest, we were in a forest, only the two of us. It had all emerged in the time the devil took to welcome me, it had happened slowly, but also undeniably fast. I did not remember what there was before the forest was there, it was like it had always been there.
The devil was sitting on a log, facing the bonfire which was placed in the middle of a circle of logs. It was dark, and the only light was from this fire, yet it didn’t seem scary, instead, it actually looked quite warm and cozy.
While approaching the devil, he went on.
“You’re the first person who has ever come here. I’ve redecorated it not too long ago.”
He looked up as I sat down on a tree stump near the fire. His eyes were humanlike, just like his posture, but there was something off about the way his hands were folded into each other. He was leaning forward to the fire, with his elbows on his knees. His hood was covering his face, which made the shadows dance on his face. His eyes were so bright, you could even see them through the shadows, dancing on his pale face. He looked sad but in a majestic way.
Even in this small position, there was an aura of power around him.
I held my hands closer to the flames, the palms facing forwards. It was warm. His eyes fixated on the fire again.
“Do make yourself at home, you won’t be leaving here anytime soon.
You know, I like that you are not asking the obvious question. The ‘where am I?’, ‘What happened?’ and the ‘How did I die?’
Although, it may not be just you. You are not here to speak, for once I don’t want to hear the screams of yet another soul, haunted by its evil self, getting the punishment for the wrong he couldn’t stop doing.
Your punishment is different, but you have figured that out already, haven’t you?
You’re not as stupid as you presented yourself when you were alive. When you begged for attention, walking from one psychologist to the other. It is not that hard to figure out what your punishment would be, after a life of self-pity and self-proclaimed misery.
In your life, you whined about your misery to every person walking by. In your death, you will listen to all the misery I encounter.
And trust me, I have a lot to talk about.”
| 2017-06-22T06:21:45 | 2017-06-22T06:13:16 | 4,092 | 65 |
[WP] Super powers are common, but super heroes are rare. It turns out most people don't actually want to face death or dismemberment on a daily basis, including you. You enjoy the 9-5 and having a 401k, but my god that government recruiter won't take no for an answer. | “We’re offering you a decent pay, full benefits, and a fairly relaxed schedule. What’s not to love about the job?”
“The murder. The civilian casualties. The stupid fuck’n supe names.” I replied
The well dressed yet clearly disillusioned man sat up,“But that’s the thing. We’re offering you a very relaxed deal with full benefits. You’d pick your own name, pick your own missions, and only need to show up for the most extreme emergencies given your powers.”
“Oh so some poor B-ranker would get horribly disfigured or killed while I sit back and wait for my phone to ring. My answer is still fuck no.” I replied again not changing my tone.
“Look… Jason.” His own tone shifted into absolute seriousness, “We’re the US government, and we’re really not asking anymore.” As he said that I could hear helicopters and armored vehicles down the road.
“You should call off the forces coming toward the house.”
“No, we’re getting you to join wether you want to or not. According to our records your powers would change everything, at least think of the good you could do.”
“Or you could think of your own life.” I said as I widened my eyes and stared directly into his, “You could think of the lives of all those men in the armored vehicles too. Government or not I’ll do what I need to.”
“You think we couldn’t stop you. Those vehicles are full of powered soldiers and anti-super weapons.”
“You must have some pretty inaccurate records if you think that means anything. Do you know what my powers are?”
“Energy projection, you can shoot beams of energy with extreme accuracy and power. Besides that you have enhanced durability, strength, stamina, and speed even compared to others with powers.” He said feeling so assure of himself.
“Absorption. Energy Absorption.”
“Oh so what you absorb electricity or something and are able to project it out.”
“No. Punch me and see what happens.” I said antagonistically. He paused and thought about it, “Punch me you stupid suite wearing fed piece of shit.” Without hesitation he did just that and planted a fist right into my face. I could tell he had some sort of pent up aggression from our conversations. It did nothing though. It simply just lost all its momentum as it touched my skin.
A shocked look came across his face, “That should’ve.. I mean.. I felt like I gave up.. like as soon as it made contact my fist.. it went limp.”
“Kinetic, electrical, thermal…” My eyes began to glow, “Even nuclear and energy in sound waves”
“You ca…” He began to talk but it soon faded into silence. I was absorbing the energy from the air in the room meaning his voice was silent as his lips continued to move. Panic set into his face as he realized he couldn’t speak. He then struggled to move as he realized parts of his body began to loose energy. Silent terror washed across his face.
I pushed my hand onto his chest, “Even the energy of a heart beat.” I could feel the rapid beating of his heart as it began to get slower and slower, “Do you understand now. You’ve created a scenario where I’ll have to fight.” I heard the vehicles and helicopters outside. I looked into his eyes just before the light went out in them, “I want you to know before you die that you killed all those men out there. Oh.. and that you created the disaster that’s about to happen to this country.” | The man sat down at the table. He turned the lamp toward my face. I smirked, retracting my eyes into my flesh. At the same times, i elongated my fingers, each one reaching five inches in length as I turned each nail into a new eye.
The man flinched. He knew of my powers, he saw me using them a few times, but never this close. I decided to turn it up a notch, peeling off layers from my face to reveal a seemingly infinite numbers of teeth.
"Can you cut this shit off?"
He was trying to be calm, but i could feel the fear and revulsion from his voice.
"Not until you decide to drop this hero nonsense."
"Nonsense? You have the strongest and most versatile power ever recorded on the planet!"
"No I haven't"
He looked at me like I had declared myslef to be an alien.
"You can shapeshift into anything! I saw you turning into mist once!"
"It was a colony of Fairyflies."
"You can clone youself!"
"I did it once and I only got Dissociative Identity Disorder from the experience."
"You can fly at supersonic speed!"
"Only up to Mach 4"
"You can resurrect the dead!"
"The brain was still active, i just regrew the body after the decapitation"
"You can punch through a 20ft thick titanium plate!"
"I need some prep time to do that."
"Your prep time for that test was 1.7 seconds! That's not prep time!"
"Details. It just wouldn't be fulfilling."
"Oh sure. Be a superhero won't be fulfilling, but being a fucking test dummy for surgeons is SOOO fulfilling"
From my torso i manifested a blade, slicing at the agent. He touched his chin, now completely shaven, at looked at his beard as it fell on the table.
"Don't you dare talk shit about my student."
The man took a deep breath.
"You let inexperienced 20-somethings cut you up for hours on end. Sure, they get SOME experience, but you could do so much more out there. You could make a real difference"
I returned myself to my normal form.
"These 20-somethings will be the future of this nation. Doctors and surgeons that studied anatomy on the real deal, tested procedures in ways older generations couldn't even dream of. I AM making a difference."
I stood up, my hands sliding off the manacles with ease.
"Where are you going?"
I looked at the agent "Home. Got some homework to grade."
He looked at me, confused "... You know you're still charged with driving 170mph in a school zone, right?"
I waited in silence
"Buuuut, if you were to do a small job for the government..." | 2022-07-31T15:04:17 | 2022-07-31T14:20:34 | 215 | 145 |
[WP] After Lucifer was kicked out of Heaven, he decided to make his own paradise. Both compete to have the best afterlife, sadly you lived a sin-free life and got sent to Heaven. God is throwing a very boring, sin-free party. You spend your time trying to get kicked out so you can go to Hell. | *Dear God, spare me from more Adele. I have got to get out of here. They are always having the best parties in hell...If only I could get myself sent down there.*
"Cheese on a stick sir? Mocktail perhaps?"
"Why a cheese on a pointed stick would be delightful."
"OWCH! Sir...you do realise you just stabbed me with a cocktail stick?"
"Oh dear, I am so sorry. Here, let me rinse the wound with a mocktail."
"..Brr!.. God will hear of this you menace!"
*I'm counting on it, you stuck up son of an angel. Hm there's the gate to heaven...Oops, silly me! Now to find Pete.*
"Ah St Peter, I'm so sorry but I accidently left the gate open and some imps have gotten in."
"You buffoon! They are in the punch! If they pee in it, it will be on your head."
"The punch will be on my head St Pete?"
"Such insolence! God will hear! Oh my, what are they doing to that cherub! I must go!"
*Silly old fool. Ah ha! Iron Maiden got my invite, right on time.*
"What's up brother. Tour bus suddenly went of a cliff, next thing we know we got an invite to this place. Didn't think we'd ever get here, know what I mean?"
"Oh right, well God loves your particular sound. Stage is over here."
*now to spike the punch and put on my mankini*
---
**two hours and much mischief later**
"You summoned me, your lordship?"
"Nick! What have you done to this party! You have turned it into a hell hole!"
"I'm so sorry, I would understand if—"
"and I love it! Best party we have had in years! I proclaim you 'holy party organiser'. One small thing though...do see if you can find Adele next time."
| Pin the belt on the virgin, Blood of Christ shots, two-stepping, overcooked barbecue, and shitty country music. Plenty of reasons to want to kill myself. But I had already died and gone to...heaven? I guess?
I always wondered if living the straight-laced life would be worth it in the end. After watching Breaking Bad, part of me always considered...you know, breaking bad. Do some coke, bang some chicks or something. But I always persisted. I mean, I had to keep my bases covered to stay out of hell. But, for Christ's sake...I really wish I hadn't.
After God announced that the Blood of Christ was cranberry juice because he was a recovering alcoholic, I knew that I couldn't last in heaven. It just wouldn't be possible. I needed to get kicked out of this place. But, you know...ever since the New Testament, God kind of chilled out and focused on forgiveness. Do you know how hard it is to get kicked out of a place when the host forgives you for everything you do, endlessly? Because I didn't. | 2016-06-01T22:06:11 | 2016-06-01T20:53:36 | 55 | 24 |
[WP] Humanity has invented a new faster-than-light communication technology. The first time they turn it on, it is full of voices.
Credit goes to /u/cpitchford /u/system0101 over are /r/AskReddit for the idea! | When children are born they learn to listen before they can speak. Their first words are said over and over until they ring in their head so loudly that it cannot be ignored. And through knowledge and experience they decipher every letter and word they are taught. They learn moving forwards with every passing day. People build themselves one day at a time doing what they thought was best. Learning from mistakes, carrying scars and wounds to better themselves with tougher skin and harder bones. They would learn and pass it on. So that their children could do even better.
But then the age of learning ended. Only knowledge remained. When we learned of the transmissions we rushed to make it our own, to add our knowledge to this river of information and expand on it as we had always done. But then something curious happened. Everything we knew was already there. Every piece of history, every question we had, every answer we wished to seek was already there before us. Easily legible if only drowned out by the sheer volume.
Anything that travels faster than light is incredibly powerful. It no longer simply travels forwards but traveles outwards through space and time. Most importantly backwards through time. Messages from the future poured in, Millennia of knowledge and technology waiting to be read, but with it came a warning. Sending a message would alter the past. Erasing the current world but giving another chance to the world's of the past.
And so they built following the blueprints laid out before them. Buildings that took centuries to perfect were made in weeks. Every pitfall laid out, easily avoided. And people were happy for awhile. Leading perfect lives laid out before them with the care of countless selves pushing them on. People would read messages from themselves in the future telling them of their true love and where to find them. Where their perfect home was and their children's names. So they listened and followed.
It was then that humanity stopped. One discovery or advancement, one war or tradigy that was not already written was simultaneously almost impossible and terrifying. An entire world stuck reading without being able to write. For even a single new word sent to the past would mean that this you would no longer exist. No one dares defy the text. The gospel written by you. Approved by you, perfected by infinite versions of you.
And so the world simply followed without a single word. Simply reading, and waiting, quiety, happily, and terrified.
Sorry for typos, I'm on mobile | “We’ve got it!”
“No. we don’t.”
“I’m not joking. Holy shit! We’re through!”
“Keep watching the data, the neural net will tell us if we’ve actually got a connection… Holy shit.”
“See?! Woooo!”
“Okay okay okay, keep cool. High burn mode guys. Pump it through the to see if we can start training the algo for any patterns. Make sure the parser is optimized for… Woah.. Shit balls that is a lot of data.”
“It looks like a direct dump from a Sol-Link”
“Why would any… uh… thing pump out a direct stream? You don’t think they’re undiscovered? Just pumping a signal out?”
“Well, we shall soon see.”
“Meta data is basically parsed… Look! Oh no way, their Sol-Link is receiving too!”
“That’s assuming they can handle our outbound. Even if we turned on full dump it won’t mean much unless they are a type 2 or above. I’ll leave it on vibrational frequencies for now. We might even get a slow two way feed”
“Have we got enough data to view the media?”
“Give it a minute. And there it is. Wait. This can’t be right.”
“What are these things? What are they doing? What the fuck?”
“Uh… They call themselves Earth. What… Oh that is.. just disgusting. Turn it off, I’m going to vomit. We’ll tell no one of this.”
*click*
First non-human communication Transmission received from D967
No further transmissions received to date | 2016-06-28T00:57:38 | 2016-06-27T22:27:21 | 49 | 10 |
[WP] You live in a world where one's name decides their future. Every child has a name with a clear meaning. Perfect, Unique, Joy. You on the other hand have a rather... strange name. | At first I thought my name was some kind of cruel joke on my parents part. Loss. I always felt cursed by the name. Why would you name your kid something so negative? Everyone else was named happiness, success, brilliance, yet mine meant to lose something. I never understood it until the day I finally had enough of my curse and finally asked my parents.
"Mom... dad, why did you name me Loss?"
They both looked to one another, and smiled. Such a simple gesture yet it filled me with so much rage. You made my life so difficult. Other kids only gained from their names, but I lost from mine.
"Well Loss, there are two things to a name. What you earn from it, and what ends up occurring because of it. Most parents name their child something purely positive. Take Joy for example. Most think that a child named Joy would never know pain and hardship, and while true, that isn't how it really works. Joy is a cruel name to give a child. The child can't express sadness from loss, and will never know stress. Most Joys end up never accomplishing anything. There are no famous Joys in this world, so naming you Joy would be the same as naming you Mediocrity, Content, or failure." My mother told me.
"Yet negative names often take a similar effect. Of course I don't need to explain the problem with a name like failure, or pestilence."
"What? No one names their children that!" I say, shocked.
This time my dad spoke up. "Oh but that is where you're wrong. Children named Pestilence die young to disease, and children named Failure tend to end up lame and unable to live past their first year."
"But why would a parent do that?"
"Simple, they were completely unwanted. If the name wouldn't kill their child, the parents would have caused their child to have an 'accident'" My father explained.
My mother continued, ""But why are you named Loss?" I hear you asking. Well, the best names take into account both sides of what could occur because of the name. The positive and the negative. Their are positive names that have only minor downsides, such as Luck, yet these children tend to only gain minor benefits from their name. Yet names like your's Loss cause people to pity and assist you. But your name comes with a rather striking gain too."
"What? What could I have possibly gained from a name that only means to lose something?" I ask, starting to feel the anger of thirteen years of constant loss seep out. Everything started to seep up, the loss of my dog, the loss of my best friend and the countless socks lost over the years.
"Simple, You can not lose what you don't have. In calling you Loss, we have insured that you will gain more than nearly anyone else." | "My mother was a bi-..." I stopped myself and sighed. "Let's just say that I resembled my father too much for her to ever really love me. She tolerated me, though. Besides the welfare checks she got because of me, I was a pretty decent whipping post for her to take her frustrations out on.
"One time I made her *proud*. And she was so overjoyed, she lost control of herself in the moment and *hugged* me, can you imagine it? Neither could I. But after she realized what she had done, she recoiled from me in horror. And, well...joy turned to shame turned to anger and she whipped me so hard I couldn't sit straight, lie down, or take a shower for nearly two weeks.
"I purposely went out of my way to never make her proud again.
"But there was some good that came out of the whipping, lest you think I resent my mother for it. No, I'm thankful to her. She made me stronger. She guided me onto my destined path. Without her, I would have never lived up to my name.
"When I was younger, I used to think that I was the cause of her suffering. Or that she had named me that so that my future would be full of nothing but suffering. I doubt she had forseen that I would instead *be* the cause of suffering for others. But, well, here I am."
I spread my arms and smiled.
"So," I asked the man sitting across from me. "What do you think? Isnt that a beautiful story?"
"I-I'm sorry all that happened to you, but...I really don't know what you want from me."
"All of my life I've made others suffer, but I was never satisfied. And that bugged me. And then it hit me. Why am I making these *random* people suffer, when I can just go after the one person that started this all in the first place. Right, *Dad*?" | 2019-04-20T23:11:35 | 2019-04-20T22:41:35 | 97 | 11 |
[WP] You and three other people have been cryogenically frozen for 1,000 years, as a method of maintaining historical accuracy of your time; however, you all agree to fit in a few little white lies. | An American, a German, a Russian, and a Chinese man walk into a cryogenic freezing chamber. It sounds like the start of a bad joke, but it’s what happened. We were all history buffs and well informed on current events, we also happened to all know several languages but that was just an added bonus. We only saw each other once before the freeze, so that we’d know who was with us. It was supposed to be a simple 200 year freeze to test how much history has been rewritten in that time.
I woke up sluggishly. At first I thought my ac was on too high before I remembered where I was. My eyes were cloudy and my head throbbed. I felt around until my hands made contact with a seam in the metal. The door of the chamber slid open with a loud Shhhh. I attempted to step outside and felt myself falling. Two sets of hands shot out and grabbed me, slowly easing me into a sitting position on some type of floating movable bed.
“Mr Sypher, you’re finally awake. Do you remember where you are?”
The voice was coming from my right, and there were other background noises. I was silent for a minute, rubbing my eyes and squeezing the bridge of my nose until my vision slowly cleared and the dull roar in my head quieted. Finally looking around I got a good look at the person speaking to me. She looked to be a doctor or nurse, and she was staring at me. Past her I saw the other 3 chambers, all opened, and several scattered people, but none of the others who came with me.
“Y-yeah. What year is it, and where are the others?” My voice was weak, but I managed to get the words out in a rough, low tone.
“Others? Our records only show you, one David Sypher, from the year 2019.” The woman sounded curious, but not particularly concerned. She probably assumed it was a side effect of the freeze.
“I came here with a Mr Gorchev, Mr Mao, and Dr Guelloc. They were in the chambers next to mine”
“Most of the worlds records were wiped out in the Solar Flare Incident of 2433, the subsequent fires and panic destroyed nearly all of the history books as well. Our company took this location over in 2441 with no one but you in the chambers. Actually your records are only here by word of mouth, one of the employees of the previous companies remembered a bit about your background.”
I sat there stunned and took it all in. An extra 200 years frozen and the others were gone. There was probably a mystery to be solved there, but that wasn’t my concern
“You lost records of the past? I happen to have been a historian, I could correct them for you. But first I have a question, what year is it now?”
The woman responded quickly “We would love to hear about the past, as for the year, it is now 3030.”
That should have been a shock, but I smiled internally. It’s been 1000 years, and the 600 since their incident was more than enough time for them to forget. It was time for a new version of history, one much more... exciting
“Grab a pen, I’ve got some history to tell you” | Excitement overtook me as they dropped the lid of my cryochamber down on me. I would wake up in 1,000 years to a whole new life; I would be far away from all the pain that berated me everyday from that came from my past.
And suddenly the lid was going up again, was there a problem? Something must have gone wrong because I could only see white and my muscles were weak. They were so weak that I fell face first onto the cold hard steal.... no it was squishy. It felt like mud, where am I?
I heard some noise around me as my ears rung and my vision started to normalize. Around me lay two of my dead comrades. Ariel was still frozen in her pod. I looked up into the biting wind to see a group of what looked like soldiers staring down at me; one had a nasty and gleeful look in his guy as he held the barrel up to my head.
I tried to speak but my vocal cords were not familiar. Looking down at my hands I tried to get up but a rifle butt sent me down to my knee. A women stepped up to me and lifted my chin to meet her gaze.
I heard what she asked this time, “Why are you so special?” They must have thought that I was frozen for a different reason then I was. “Your compatriots claim you to be a god, you could be useful to us.” They then opened Ariel’s pod and put a gun up to her head as she crashed into the ground.
The bloodthirsty man descended upon her and grabbed her defenseless body. Anger took me as I engaged combat mode on the armor under my clothing. I was supposed to be the secret failsafe in the event that something went wrong. I lunged over to the man and grabbed him by the throat as I raised him into the air.
Ariel gained vision as I hovered slightly off the ground for show. I looked pointedly at her as an army of shouts and barrels whirled in my direction. “I am the god of the old world, and you have freed me.”
The army knelt as Ariel looked at me in confusion. I met her gaze with fear and a sense of power as I dropped the dead man....
Edit; Saw only one comment so I decided to give it a try, | 2019-01-03T09:19:43 | 2019-01-03T02:58:37 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] You're the "weakling" tea maker. People think you're a burden on the hero's party. But it's the enchantments from your premium teas that boost the party to world-class. Bandits kidnap you to blackmail the hero. Leaving you in a cell with your tea supplies was a mistake. It's tea time. | These bandits were stupid, illiterate, and gullible and I'd heard them call me *"Sweet Summer Child"* for the last time; I think. Probably.
Was it fortune? Was it fate? These moronic mavericks had locked me up, and let me keep my tea-set. Oh, they didn't just let me have my ancient-legendary-unique artifact teapot & cups, no... The skulldugger simpletons had left me with my entire tea-box. Every last dollop of enchanted honey, every dram of ensorcelled sugar-substitute. Every single tea, from every single plane... ::sigh:: I love my box. I love my profession...
I'd had it, though. I'd, truly, had it with this entire kidnap-ransom-free, kidnap-ransom-free, carousel I've been forced to ride for the last... Maker take pity! Had it been that long? I've been on this, not-so, merry-go-round for over two centuries now. Two centuries of my life; gone. I'm done. The Heroes want to keep pushing that carousel, keep me bobbing up and down on a ride that never goes anywhere.
This time things would be different. This time there would be no ransom, no blackmail, no extortion. There would be no rescue or assistance for me. This time I would save me, and there would be no more blackmail attempts; no more kidnappings. I would be the hero for a change. I would save myself from the darkness. And, I thought, *the darkness will learn to fear me!*
I plastered a sweet, and somewhat jovial, smile on my face as I turned from my preparations. "Oh, boys, everything's ready."
*"It's Tea-Time!!!"* I yelled out, to whoops and hollers from the assorted bandits. My teas were legendary, after all.
As the seemingly-endless cups were passed out, and they all took sips and then gulps of the tea, my smile metamorphosed from jovial and friendly to anticipatory and predatory. They didn't notice a thing...
*That's right, I thought to myself: It's Tea-Time... minions!* | It's been a week. I needed the bandit's trust. I also needed to know that my party *weren't* coming for me. I've been making plain teas - first for myself, then, on day three, the bandits decided they wanted to try one. Now I'm enslaved as their tea maker. I imagine they don't plan to let me go now... but that doesn't matter. I'm ready to spring my trap.
I'm making the teas as usual, but today I'm adding a secret ingredient... I'm adding a sleep enchantment to all the bandit's teas. My own tea is being given a strength enchantment, extra strong, so I can get back to my party *with* the bandits. "Here you go" I say, as I pass the tea around.
Fast forward a couple hours. The bandits have been out for an hour, and, unbeknownst to them, are currently being carried by myself, thanks to my strength-enriching tea, back to my party's base. I'm just coming up on it, and I hear a voice... "I told you all she knew what she was doing!" exclaimed the hero, as my party all come to greet me.
A couple hours later, the bandits are waking up... in the dungeon. I'm standing right there, grinning. "Bet you thought I was just a simple tea maker" I taunt. "Well, guess this is what you get for being bandits!" | 2022-08-22T12:17:21 | 2022-08-22T09:53:05 | 470 | 201 |
[WP] When two people get married, on the day of the wedding they are both given the ability to alter the appearance of their spouse to anything they wish. How do they change each other? How do they respond to what has been done to them? | The night of their honeymoon she felt a hot, electric, tingle zip through her body and it wasn't from the sex. It stung as it traveled up her spine and down her limbs. She bit her lip and clenched the cotton sheets around her trying not to wake him. Her pain killers were in her suitcase somewhere but she knew she didn't have the strength to fumble for them alone. Enduring it, as she had done for decades, was all she could muster. The bones in her body felt like they were snapping and twisting under her skin.
Finally, the pain began to slow and she could handle sliding out of bed into her wheelchair. Her whole body felt heavier than ever. Wheeling herself into the bathroom she caught a glimpse of someone she didn't recognize in the wall of mirrors.
Straight, full figured legs, no longer bowed from countless breaks and weak from limited mobility. A chest cavity that sat perfectly symmetrical, one side no longer slightly sunken in and underneath even more symmetrical breasts. Frantic, she reached behind her, gliding her fingers as far up her spine as she could reach. Signs of her scoliosis vanished.
Tears began to drown her hazel eyes as she slid forward in her wheelchair. Both feet touched the icy bathroom tile. The muscles in her thighs pulled her up, as if on their own. Standing in front of the mirror was effortless, though the shock made her stagger.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. As she cried in his arms he caught a glance of himself. Slight disappointment fell over him. He seemed and felt the same. Still average. Nothing special. "Everything I saw," she held him tight, "was perfect." | I love my soon to be wife. I look forward to our marriage. Imagine my surprise when we stumbled upon a Djin who saw our live as "pure " enough that; she would allow us to alter each other's appearance. My sweet beautiful faincee quickly declined the offer saying that though "she appreciated the offer ." I was perfect the way I was.
I however asked to speak to the djin in private. On our wedding day I saw my wife more beautiful than ever. See I wished that she never contracted that terrible disease that has and was ruining her life. Even though it was risky I can die in peace knowing that if I die she will live a full and happy life.
PLEASE BE KIND THIS IS MY FIRST SUBMISSION IM OPEN TO ANY CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM | 2022-12-08T05:38:26 | 2022-12-08T01:07:52 | 32 | 23 |
[WP] You're a captain of a newly built Iowa class battleship. One day, on the sea, you were tasked with a mission, but a fog suddenly clouded your ship. Once the fog clears, your battleship is surrounded by ships from the middle ages | "Gentlemen!"
Captain Morales stood at the bow of his ship, eyes cast to the deep ocean blue. Around him lay the wreckage of a dozen or so longships, their wooden hulls now little more than driftwood on the vast dark sea. Behind him stood his crew. Well, the officers anyways. Most of the actual sailors were busy making sure all their shit still worked.
"Do you understand the implications of what as just happened?"
"Do you mean the Viking Raid, Captain?"
Captain Morales turned, looking at the small crowd. Specifically, looking at the little gremlin face of Officer Connelly, or as he affectionately liked to call him 'Stupid Question Dipshit'
"No Connelly, the fuckin' weather report. YES THE VIKING RAID YOU DIPSHIT!"
Connelly gulped, sinking back into obscurity amidst the crowd. Captain Morales took a moment to collect himself, exhaling.
"Right. Alright. Now, lacking anymore DUMBASS questions, I'll tell you what this here Viking Raid means."
Morales shifted into a parade rest, grinning like a shark.
"It means, gentlemen, that we have been graced by God with the greatest gift one could ask for."
"A long and prosperous life?"
"A long a- NO! Connelly, you shut your trap before I shut it for you. We got something much finer today."
The Captain leaned forward, hungry and excited.
"We got the opportunity to portion out some good ol' fashioned Americanism to these poor peasant sops."
"...what?"
"One more question outta you Connelly, I'm leaving you with the vikings!"
Taking a breath to calm himself, the Captain straightened up.
"Gentlemen. We've found ourselves adrift in time. Lost on the distant shores of shit and all-encompassing medieval syphilis. Now we have two options. We can get all sad, and sob about 'our families' or 'our lives', or we can do what GOD outright intended, and deliver onto this peasant savages the downright fury of Uncle Sam's swinging dicks!"
Silence. Absolute silence. The Captain facepalmed.
"We're going to use our GIANT FUCK OFF BATTLESHIP to blow up all the monarchs and build us a democracy right here, right now. A thousand years early baby!"
More silence. The Captain sighed.
"And I guess try to find whatever shitfuck wizard sent us back in time, sure. Whatever."
Finally, the Captain got his cheer. Grinning, he pumped his fist, then saluted at his men.
"Alright boys! Then let's get to work!"
"Oorah!"
The officers all dissipated, getting to work. With one exception, of course. Connelly cleared his throat, looking up at the Captain.
"Ehm, sir..."
"Oh Christ, of course. The hell is it?"
"Well um... we still need a destination, sir. Unless you want to conquer all of Europe."
The Captain laughed, stepping down from the bow and striding past Connelly.
"That I do Connelly. That I do. We'll show these Europoors how Uncle Sam fucks back in the dark ages." He paused for a moment. "But you're right. We have to start somewhere."
"Where, sir?"
"How about..." The Captain turned to face the Officer, shark grin back on his face. "London?" | [Start Captains Log
Date: Unknown
Time: 2235hr
Location: Classified
Start Encryption Log]
The fact that they fired on us at all speaks volumes of their periodic mindset. It didn't take long for us to figure out what was attacking us, let alone what with. We were as surprised as they were. I didn't think they'd be so bold though.
All we knew was a fog rolled over the big blue, the power went out and when it cleared, there we (and they) were. They had the clear advantage, tactical and numerical, weapons ready, sections manned. Did it matter What they shooting at? Did they know? Whether or not they had a chance? That weaponry though, how primitive.
That the Zumwalt2 was the first to attack was no surprise. It's first volley of Railgun charges did absolutely nothing to our hull. They tried to set the pace. They acted valiantly as they should have. Have you seen what E-class weapon do to 21st Century material? The Energy burns are enough to give our Engineers nightmares.
Next was the Queen Markle class. Obviously following their American counterparts, they fired an entire minute AFTER the Americans. Did you know they still used the Phalanx systems that late in the game? I didn't think they were considered useful after the first Unification treaty. It was a sight, watching their scrambled fighters fall from the sky after we took out their "Advanced Fighter Systems".
Strange that the LiaoNingSan series were there though. Them and their failed attempts at boarding us. The boarding parties using individual propulsion systems, I guess didn't take into account the affect of sound waves on human tissue.
Strange that all 3 warships seemed to be communicating. I'd read about the Unification and their combined projects into FTL but I didn't think that they managed to get anywhere. The history books never explained what became of those experiments, just that they happened sometime in the late 21st Century.
Anyway, we're now here and there's warning of movement incoming from South-South West. Word has spread through the ship of the fish food we're making and now the onboard janitors and having a go in the weapon systems.
[End Captains Log
Date: Unknown
Time: 2243hr
Location: Classified
End Encryption Log]
Edit: oh my stars, that formatting. I typed this on my phone. I apologise. | 2022-08-29T20:49:54 | 2022-08-29T19:26:57 | 74 | 28 |
[WP] You, a villain, heart set on taking over the world, kidnapped the hero’s sidekick. You find out that you are treating them much better than the hero was and decide to take them under your wing. | Stealing a superpower was harder than any conventional crime. Tom learned that after almost dying at the hands of Glacier, a hero with incredible cryokinesis. If he hadn't already stolen teleportation from another villain, the encounter would've ended his short career. Tom didn't give up, though. His ability had an inherent risk since any power that was worth acquiring would also have an owner that was equally dangerous. It meant that he had to be more strategic if he wanted to grow strong enough to rule the world.
Tom waited a few weeks before attempting his plot again. He interfered in the middle of an unrelated fight, grabbing Icicle, Glacier's sidekick, and teleporting away to a sewer while the hero was distracted. The kid kicked and screamed, but Tom hypnotized him into a deep slumber with another stolen power. A few hours later, he sent a message demanding a meeting for the next day.
Glacier never showed up.
Tom couldn't believe it. His resentment for heroes was more justified than ever before. This was exactly the type of hypocrisy he wanted to eradicate.
At first, the Icicle remained adamant that he would be saved, calling for help every other minute. Tom didn't do anything to stop him. His screams couldn't be heard given the remoteness of these sewers. Tom kept attending the boy every day, updating him on everything Glacier had been doing without him. His kidnapping hadn't even shown up in the news. It was being kept secret. Eventually, his pleas for help turned into sobbing, only to become silence after a week of being abandoned.
Tom didn't pity the boy. Learning about the true nature of 'superheroes' would ultimately help him mature. In a world where flaunting your powers was rewarded, everyone had an incentive to maintain a clean image, even at the cost of pursuing true justice. Tom had no use for Icicle anymore. Slowly, after a month of coexisting, he gave him more freedom around the lair until he decided to unlock his chains.
This kindness was immediately punished by the kid, who created an ice dagger and placed it on Tom's throat. It appeared the boy also had cryokinesis, albeit much weaker than his mentor. He couldn't even break the chains on his own. Unfortunately, his dagger was still sharp enough to kill a man with ease.
Tom remained stoic, staring into Icicle's eyes. He couldn't teleport away from him since the boy was already touching him.
Icicle drew sharp breaths. The hand holding his dagger trembled, but he still kept pressure on Tom's neck. He didn't want to kill. Tom sighed and said:
"Don't do this."
Icicle frowned. "Or what?"
"You look like the type who would regret it."
"Why would a villain care about that?"
"Well, first of all, I've never really killed anyone."
Icicle hesitated for a moment, only to re-apply pressure. "Liar!"
"It's true. You can check the news reports; they'll confirm it." Tom chuckled. "Then again, you've probably learned that you can't trust the news so I don't blame you if you're still skeptical."
Icicle stayed quiet.
"Look, I've already released you. Nothing is stopping you from leaving."
"Are you going to keep stealing powers?"
"Yup."
"Then I can't let you go."
"Why?"
"Because it's not right!"
Tom raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Is there a law against it?"
Icicle looked away. "I dunno..." He glared. "But kidnapping is!"
"Fair, that's on me. Still, I'm intrigued, why do you think stealing powers is wrong?"
"They're not yours. Duh."
"And what if I steal them from a villain? Would it be wrong, then?"
"Well, that's... different. They're not using them for the benefit of others."
"Ahh, I think we're reaching common ground. I somewhat agree. In my opinion, taking power away from the wrong hands is the definition of justice. But, tell me, what happens when you have an upper class full of privileged demigods? What happens when their comfort and social stability is more important than justice? What happens when your worth as a human is solely determined by genetic lottery?"
Icicle welled up with tears. "I... I get abandoned."
"Exactly."
Icicle fell on his knees, crying. "He didn't even try..."
Tom didn't know how to comfort the kid. He could teleport him back to his home, but that could result in a nasty surprise. A news broadcast in the afternoon only confirmed his suspicions.
Glacier had already replaced his sidekick. The public never realized the change.
Icicle didn't speak for the rest of the night.
Maybe, there was something Tom could do for him. Icicle didn't really have a good grasp on his powers yet. Even if it still lacked raw strength, he could've created a lockpick, or contrived a scenario to escape. The kid hadn't been taught how to think about his abilities.
Tom couldn't steal his cryokinesis. It wasn't worth it. Powers had to be cultivated for decades to reach their peak. He didn't have time for that, which was why he targeted people who were already strong. That didn't mean he couldn't use Icicle's powers, though. Training him might provide more value than he originally imagined. He was the perfect partner to defeat Glacier, and then, the rest of the world.
------
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out all of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | It had been, so to speak, a dance.
The doctor would make a machine. Some sort of ridiculous "-inerator" that would cause mayhem if not controlled. And it was controlled. The major would send his best spy, Agent P, to deal with the task. Within half an hour, the problem was solved. The machine would be destroyed, and the only thing left would be the doctor's nasally scream.
"Curse you, Perry the Platypus!"
Well, that, and a commemorative photo. The doctor refused to share it with the agency, but the major knew he had commemorative photographs of every machine-- and what remained of them after Agent P got his curiously anthropomorphic superior appendages on them.
But a dance it had been. The doctor took a step forward, the major took one back. The major took a step forward, the doctor took one back. The doctor pulled the major's arm, and the major prepared to fall into the doctor's metaphorical, twiggy arms--
\--and instead hit the very real ground. He looked up to see the bill of a very familiar employee.
"That's right!" cried the familiar voice of Dr. Doofenshmirtz. "It is I, Perry the Platypus! Well, actually, it is just Perry the Platypus, but I am speaking through this machine Perry is carrying. Perry the Platypus, be a dear and turn around."
The platypus obliged, revealing a small machine strapped to his back. Dr. Doofenschmirtz grinned from the screen.
"And now it is I, Dr. Doofenschmirtz! Do you like my present, Major?"
The major struggled to get up. The office life and old age had made him soft, but he managed to get to his knees.
"Agent P-- what are you doing?! How could you?" The major narrowed his eyes. "Is it mind control again, doctor? You know that I have made preparations against that, don't you?"
Sweat trickled down the major's forehead. He had made no preparations.
"Perry the Platypus, turn around again, I want to see the Major while I'm talking. Don't put down-- oh, I suppose that is fine."
The platypus had rotated the box so it was now on his chest.
"Anyways, as I was saying, I just decided to *hire* Perry the Platypus."
The major gasped. "But Agent P-- what about us?"
The platypus looked shiftily at the ground, refusing to make eye contact.
"What about you?" Dr. Doofenschmirtz cackled. "You don't pay him and you don't give him health insurance. Poor Perry the Platypus didn't realize that EVIL might have some benefits for their employees."
The major wiped his sweaty palms on his aching knees. So there *was* no mind control. There was still hope.
"Look, Agent P. I can't promise those benefits to you, but don't you want to know that you are making the world a better place? Do you really want to be known as the platypus that wreaked havoc on mankind?"
The platypus looked like he wanted to whip off his hat and disappear into a hole. The major went in for the kill.
"Is this what you want your boys-- what are their names, Finnacus and Herb?-- is this what you want them to remember you as? A superficial platypus, easily swayed by material goods?"
Doofenshmirtz pressed his face against the screen, panicked.
"Don't listen to him, Perry the Platypus! He's trying to trick you, can't you see?!"
The major smiled inwardly, ignored his creaking joints, and leaned close to the whisper to the platypus.
"Agent P, the older boy is almost off to college, right? If you stop whatever plan Dr. Doofenshmirtz has cooked up today, I'll write a recommendation letter for him. Imagine having a *major* write a letter of recommendation for you. No college could say no to that."
The platypus stood very, very still as the major climbed back to his feet. Then, sighing, Perry the Platypus smashed the box, silencing Dr. Doofenshmirtz's shrieks of protest. He tipped his hat at the major, and sprinted out the door, preparing yet again to save the tri-state area from terror.
As soon as the pitter-patter of webbed feet could no longer be heard, the major collapsed into his chair. He stretched his arms, cracked his knuckle, and straightened up. It was time to make good on his promise to his agent.
"CARL! WHERE ARE YOU? I'VE GOT A PAPER FOR YOU TO WRITE!" | 2020-03-26T15:13:34 | 2020-03-26T15:08:41 | 105 | 54 |
[WP] There are many types of Mages in the world. Fire, Ice, Wind, Water, Death, Darkness, to name a few. But in this world, every type of mage is treated as equal. Everyone can be a good guy, no matter how dark your power. And anyone could be a bad guy, no matter how beautiful their ability...
Edit: Wow
I'm not even sure, this is not the prompt I expected to more than double my other highest, or get gold! Thank you so much! | You could always see the emotions on their faces, plain as day. It was always a strange mixture of terror, fascination, acceptance, and love. She would gently stroke their faces like a mother, and tears of each feeling would fall in equal measure until their cheeks glistened with a tragic and beautiful sparkle that punctuated the moment. Then the fey energies would be woven and wrap around them, a smoky purple fog that crackled with otherworldly sparks, and in an instant they would be gone. The body would remain, as all bodies do in death, but their soul would transcend and feel pain no more.
The power to grant death. This was the magic she wielded. It is a terrible burden, this power, but a necessary evil because to grant death is different than to cause it. To cause death is to cause pain and suffering, unduly and arbitrarily. But to grant death? As if it were a gift to be given to an expectant child? This is a power of some difficult to understand beauty.
There were many who feared her and spoke in hushed tones such monikers as "The Dark Dancer". Truly, anytime her ritual began, all in the audience felt an uneasiness as they witnessed the macabre grace of it. The swishing of her long black lace robes, the flipping back and forth of her raven hair, the low-pitched and rhythmic chanting all made plain that death was in the room. Those who feared her often postulated at the bottom of their cups that she was a considerable menace to be stopped. Rousing cries of agreement would surge amongst others, all equally besotted, until one would step forward--and one would always step forward--to recount a day that she had glided in like a dream and provided a final release from a lifetime of agony. The mob would grow hushed, and each man's thoughts would drift to a loved one who would likely be receiving a dance of their own. And though they would not say it out loud, they would be grateful for this haunting angel whose shadow hung over them all.
Such was the way of things in the city, until the king's daughter fell ill. No doctors could help her, no fey weavers could help her, nor were there even any alchemists who could devise a means to dull her pain. Each day for the princess was a screaming nightmare. The queen quickly resigned herself to her daughter's fate. The call was put out around the city for that woman, that dark and mysterious specter, to pay a visit to the castle. And come she did, in all her phantasmagorical splendor. The preparations were made, the ritual performed, and the death swift and merciful. The queen and all her retainers collapsed into fitful crying, but the woman said nothing and began to float out of the room as unfathomably as she had entered it.
The king burst through the doors of the bedchamber where the ritual had taken place, his face red and puffy with fury and the staining of tears of his own. Too late had he been informed of his wife's plans, and too late was he to defy them. He looked to the ornate bed of his daughter and saw her lifeless body there, and, oblivious to the fact that this was the first time in years he had looked at his daughter without having to also watch her writhe from physical torment, ordered the sable-clad woman to be seized.
The trial was hardly a trial at all. Any defense brought forth for the woman fell on the deaf ears of the king, whose only thought was vengeance. Quickly, the legal proceedings were ended and the woman brought to the gallows. Throughout all of this, she said nothing. She never struggled or fought back, but instead accepted everything with a quiet grace. The same quiet grace with which she had granted sweet release to so many. The rope was placed around her neck; her last rites were read. When asked if she had any last words, again she remained silent, merely closing her eyes and letting that be her final testament to the world. And then the deed was done.
The crowd that gathered made no sound. Indeed, if such a thing were capable of measurement, this would surely have been recognized as the most perfect silence there had even been. But then the lolling head of the woman snapped upright, her mouth opening slowly and unhinging with a horrifying crack of her jawbone until she looked like a snake ready to feast. The scream that followed was so piercing that all in attendance to the hanging went deaf immediately. From her mouth streamed the smoky purple fog crackling with otherworldly sparks which spread out rapidly throughout the city and filled the lungs of all its citizens. For what must have felt like an eternity, all the city's people felt at once the compounded pain that the woman had lifted from every invalid she had ever visited, and the true burden this woman shouldered was now shouldered by all. Tears of burning, black pitch gushed from every eye, the sheer heat of it dooming all to an agonizing death.
In an instant, it was over. Up on the stage where the gallows rest, the rope that held the woman taut loosened and fell to the ground. Her jaw closed and reset itself. Her eyes slid open menacingly. Effortlessly, she hovered down from the dais and through the crowd of limp bodies.
On to the next town, she thought, weeping loudly all the way. | "Tracey, don't do this. You have the power in your hand, but... please, for the love of existence, don't do this."
Stan stood opposite Tracey, who was on the edge of the cliff. An ominous, swirling, reddish-black portal swirled behind Tracey, with eldritch horrors poking their tentacles and claws through to the mortal world, whispering to Stan and Tracey short and quiet cries of *kill him kill him kill everyone* looping end on end.
Stan gripped his mahogany staff, his hands turning white. The portal was slowly expanding, sucking in loose twigs, pebbles, and dust, and he could feel the pull, he heard the eldritch beings whispering into the mortal world their morbid chant.
"I can't let you do this. For what even is this? So you could bring them back?" Stan cried hot angry tears as he spoke, the portal claiming more pebbles and dust particles, roaring as the whispers continued. His red robe fluttered, revealing armored legs.
"Stan, our journey led us nowhere. And now that I hold the power to bring back the friends we lost on our quest, now you decide to tell me no?!" Tracey screamed over the rushing wind. He clutched the brown book in his gloved hands, his metal armor deflecting small debris with tiny *clink clink* sounds. His dirty white cape fluttered behind him into the open air before the portal on the edge of the cliff.
"Our journey was supposed to lead us to finding that book, not using it! Why do you think the Magick Council sent us? They told us the quest would be arduous-"
"But almost all of us died AND THEY KNEW IT! The Council LIED to us! This book, this BOOK will bring back everyone we ever lost!"
"Tracey, this isn't worth it, they're DEAD! I know you're a Life Mage, but you can't bring life back to the dead! There's no-"
"Get out Stan, then get out! You can't stop me, not after what happened. I'll bring them back!"
"No! You can't!"
"I can, and I WILL! *Get back!*"
Tracey slammed his staff on the ground, and a bright light raced into Stan's body. He flew back and hit a tree, and then got back up on his feet. Fury was in his eyes, and fire was, too. The tree he hit was burning, and Stan's dusty robe swirled as fire rose from the ground.
And the dust, all leaves, all bits of debris were aflame. Tracey looked on in fear, and the eldritch beings kept their whispering chant going.
"Tracey. You cannot bring back life to those who died. Thus is the law of the Universe, and we were selected to give it to traitors. You are a traitor, but please. Come back. Stop this, or I'll have no choice but to end this my way, the way I was taught."
Stan was levitating above the trees, surrounded in a fiery maelstrom. Fire swirled everywhere, and the trees were burning. His eyes glowed an absolute red, his robe fluttering and burning, his hands extended and coated in flame.
Tracey said enough, clutching the brown book.
"No."
"Forgive me, Tracey."
"Stan?"
A bright red beam flashed, and fire rained upon the cliff, and into the portal. The portal vanished, and the world turned blue and green again as the red skies turned into their natural color.
Stan stood on the ground, the fires around him gone. But the trees were more beautiful than Stan remembered. Taller, younger, with singing birds and chittering squirrels. The cliff was teeming with sudden life - moss covered the stone of the cliff, a few rabbits rose from the ground and bounded away from the abyss and off to Stan's right, butterflies of all colors and sizes flew into the sky and into the woods, and bees buzzed away into the sky after.
And as Stan looked closer, he saw silver glinting through the moss. Tracey had given his life to the forest. That was clear, and his armor marked his resting spot. His white staff was on the ground, and the book was covered with moss. Stan pointed his staff at Tracey's own magic implement, and the white staff started to glow from within. And it finally turned black and burned away, where the wind carried away the embers.
"Traitor," Stan said as he picked up the book and walked away from the cliff.
| 2016-11-12T10:10:17 | 2016-11-12T08:16:15 | 252 | 110 |
[WP] Aliens arrive but do not attack. Instead, they say they’ll choose 100 humans to try and convince them they shouldn’t destroy earth. You are up next, number 100, with nobody else in front of you accomplishing the goal. Save earth | "Well," I stumbled, trying to work out what was worth saving, "well, I think,"
"100, we grow tiresome, please proceed with speed and caution," A voice echoed around the room, a location for it nowhere to be seen. With my audience invisible I cleared my throat and spoke towards the wall, "You've probably heard how great humans are but can I tell you the truth, a story even?"
"Is it a truth or story? Either way, you only have time for one. Deliberations will begin in five minutes,"
"Both, I think," I wasn't sure but I wasn't a liar either and I didn't know how to fight to save humans but I did know what I wanted to save and I hoped they'd agree, "I want to tell you about my attempt to grow a plant five years ago," Even through the silence I could tell they were not impressed but I continued never the less, "I planted a seed on my windowsill and I used the wrong soil, that's what we humans are, the wrong soil, and I know that doesn't sound very positive but it is true. Anyway, I didn't know what to do, the seed wouldn't grow. I wanted my window to be beautiful and I thought about buying plants instead of growing them, but then I realised that that was too easy, so I changed the soil. It took time, it was messy and the first flower was never as bright as it could have been but then more grew and they were better, brighter. That's how I see Earth.
"Earth isn't just the humans, in fact we are destroying it and, if it wasn't for the rest of it, I'd agree. But there is more so much more and you need to look past humans, look at what else Earth has. Our oceans are full of plastic but they are also filled with rainbows. Colours so vivid on the scales of fish, you'd think they were painted. Our cities are concrete but even then, flowers find ways to fill the cracks. Our animals are caged but the wild ones roam and soar. They are kings and queens, acrobats and escape artists, comedians and dancers. Even in the harshest climates there are animals or plants showing that life is more than human. Life is everywhere. There world shouldn't be destroyed even if humans are already attempting it.
"Don't save the world for us, save it for them. Give us a chance to save it for them,"
"Time 100, we will be back momentarily," and with that I was left with my thoughts. Would it work? Would it matter? Is there anything left to safe?
"100, we have taken into account your plea and we have looked at the biological make up of Earth. We will grant you 100 days before we return. Should there be a clear effort humans have attempted to save Earth we will grant a further amount until such time we agree Earth is safe. Should we return and not be satisfied, we will save Earth by eradicating it of humans. Understood?"
"I... thank you... but 100 days? That's very shor..."
"100 days, no more no less," And with that they were gone.
"I did it? I DID IT!"
"You did?" The president asked as I left the room,
"Sir, I mean yes, sort of," I explained the clause and he announced the war. | “Ok so explain to me why you want to destroy earth.” It’s a short and precise question giving me time to think. “We have explained this multiple times to you earthlings. We desire to recolonization this planet for our own species”
“Why not co-exist with us?” I needed information. Nothing anyone was willing to give. “We desire not to live with lesser beings.” Ok so they have pride. What else? “So basically your jealous of us and want to kill us now?” Test there pride. People slip up when angry. “We are not jealous of you simpletons. We simply eradicate waste.”
“So why aren’t you eradicated?” Ha ha struck a nerve. “Listen here ‘human’ we don’t need to-“ I cut him off. “And what’s with the ‘we’? Fancy yourself special? The ambassador of your race? Be honest these are all your stupid options and you will go back telling the others whatever you want.”
At this point he pulled out what I assume is a gun. “I will have your head!” They shouted at me. “Then what oh great one? Gonna go back to your proud race and tell them a human angered you? That you broke your rule? 99 of us went in and out so what will happen if I die?” They hesitated then put the gun away.
“We are not here for mindless chatter. Convince us we shouldn’t kill everyone.” At this point I had a huge grin on my face. “What if I just sit here? There’s no time limit.” They gave me a cold stare. “Then we kill your loved ones.” I couldn’t help laughing “There all dead man. Who you gunna kill? What are you gonna do?”
They got up and yelled straight at my face. “We will kill your race!” I kept my smile. “So? Most of us want to die anyway.” This comment seemed to stick with the alien. “You... want to die?”
“Why not? I’ve ruined lives. Probably killed some people. No one in the world want me to live so why not? It’s called depression and most people have it.”
The alien just sat there. Gave me a dumbfounded stare. “This ‘depression’ what is it?” We spent the next hour talking about it.
The aliens left. Sure didn’t take that long. Took a day at least before they all left. The last thing they said was “why would any creature want to die?” | 2018-05-28T11:02:56 | 2018-05-28T10:40:24 | 289 | 68 |
[WP] When you kill someone, their remaining life span is added to yours. Archaeologists have just found a cavern, apparently sealed off for thousands of years, with a single person living inside. | Streams of light poured into the cavern entrance, revealing a grimy face. The scans a had shown a life form dwelling in the ruins of a long forgotten civilization, but we could never have known what lurked below. We had expected a mighty warrior, or a ruthless king. This face belonged to a little girl, no more than 7 years old.
“Hello” was all Jace, the expedition leader, could manage to get out. The girl did not respond but climbed into the light, emerging from the shadows which has long been her home. “Are you okay, miss?” Jace was trying to make contact but the girl acted as though she could not hear him and walked towards me, eyes piercing my soul. In that moment, I knew who this girl was, and the sickness that ran rampant in the world made sense.
We knew how life was *supposed* to function. People lived until they were about 80 and died of natural causes. There was nothing natural, however, about the way lifeforces were transferred when someone was killed. Parts of the world succumbed to anarchy, ruthless infighting where one emerged the victor, drenched in blood and slated to exist for tens of thousands of years. These were the immortals, men deemed to dangerous to roam free. So the World Peace Coalition sent a task force to capture them, and they remain in lockdown. The more civilized parts of the world recognized that the lure of eternity would prove too much for many to resist, they organized Life Day, which is nowhere near as happy as it sounds. 5 volunteers, all seeking life eternal, from each country with a stake in the WPC are sent to compete in the World Games, a series of deadly duels ranging from sword-fighting, to gunslinging, to something as silly as hot-potato grenade tossing. This continue until 10 remain, and these challengers compete in the final competition on Life Day, a brutal battle, barehanded battle royale in an arena no larger than a baseball field. Not everyone wants immortality, but for those who do, this is their opportunity, and it also serves as entertainment to keep the masses in line.
What many don’t know, however, is the feeling one gets when absorbing a life force. 2000 years ago, I won the World Games, gaining almost ten thousand years of lifespan. It wasnt enough for me. Ever since, I have hunted down the victors in the weeks following their Life Day triumphs, absorbing every ounce of life essence they gathered for themselves. The only way I can describe the feeling would be akin to infusing my cells with supernovae, magnified by each year I absorb. Life is a drug, and I need it.
So when this girl looked into my eyes, mutual understanding flashed between us. She knew what I was, a murderer and an addict, searching the reaches of the world in remnants of legendary societies to understand the nature of life. No one knew, of course, who I was or what I did beyond my life as an archaeologist, or I would be captured and confined with the rest of the Immortals. No one, except this girl, that is. No one knew who she was, either, but I felt drawn to her, and something inside of me knew, she was Death, locked away and left to be forgotten. Her eyes burned with hatred for me: she knew that I had cheated her. That I had long outlived my own allowance. She stepped towards me, and I knew she had every intent of stripping me of the life I had worked so hard to extend. Another step. She is only a few feet from me now. I feel my life being drained and sucked into her. Jace is confused and trying to get through to her, but she looks only at me. Then she collapsed.
The little girl had fallen unconscious, overcome with exhaustion and her first taste of life in probably twenty thousand years. But she would awaken, and I knew she would come for me again. Jace picked her up and carried her back into camp, throwing me a confused look as he lumbered off with Death in his arms. The other expedition members followed him, content to wait until dawn to enter the cave where Death had been confined.
I was not content. I was terrified. The moment the crew left my sight, I sprinted towards the cavern and climbed inside. After the initial squeeze through a small tunnel, the passage opened off into a large room, completely empty but for a pedestal and a chair. The chair was extraordinary, actually more of a grandiose throne, but it wasn’t what caught my eye. Lying on the velvet cushion atop the pedestal, was and ebony scythe with an ivory blade. Instantly, my hands shot towards it, and I was not in control of my own body. The scythe led me out the way I came, and I raced towards the camp. I regained a semblance of control and crept towards Jace’s tent, scythe in tow. I knocked and he came out to meet me. I expected him to be terrified, but he looked at me calmly. The realization struck me, he cannot see it. I asked him how the girl was doing, he told me she was still asleep. That was all I needed to hear. I knew what I needed to do. Shoving him aside, I forced my way through the entrance of the tent. Jace’s voice echoed behind me: “Noah, what on earth is your problem!?” Now I stood over the body of the little girl, and raised the scythe. Jace is screaming at me now, “What are you doing? Are you out of your mind?! Leave her alone!” But I ignore him. At that moment, I swing the scythe with all of my might, and for a moment, the eyes of Death open and peer into my soul once more. The all at once, her body is gone, and I feel the supernovas once again, this time magnified beyond anything I could even imagine.
And then in a moment it passes, a fog, lifting from my mind, and I understand *everything*. I am no longer mortal. I am become Death. And the world will never be the same. | "Is he still alive!?"
"I... I think so..." Replied the older archeologist.
The younger woman took a cautious step forward, shining her flashlight into the comatose figure's face.
"Mary, be careful," warned her companion, "It must have been in here for thousands of years... If it's still alive-"
Mary cut him off; "If he's still alive," for it was clearly a 'he', "he'll be incredibly weak, I'm sure. Honestly, Howard, if you're nervous, go call one of the guards for backup."
Howard glanced at the entrance. It wasn't a bad idea. But before he could return to bring in some protection, the figure groaned.
Mary jumped, nearly dropping her flashlight, and Howard tensed. He knew what it meant if someone was still alive after thousands of years; he knew how many people they must have killed.
Mary inched closer, despite Howard's hisses at her to stay back. Her heart was racing with a mix of fear and excitement, and she turned on her translator, glad she hadn't taken it off after returning from town earlier that day. "Hello?" She asked.
It groaned again, and looked like it was struggling to sit up. Neither Mary nor Howard moved to help it. Gosh, that guy was *ancient*! From a a couple hundred BC; at least 2,500 years old, the architects guessed.
"Hello?" Mary tried again, "Can you hear me?"
The man steadied himself in a sitting position and after a moment answered in a hoarse voice, "Yes.... Why are you here? Have I been pardoned?"
The two partners shared a glance. "Pardoned?" Howard asked.
"Has Caesar acknowledged my innocence?" The man spoke slowly, but not unkindly, "I wrote him, before the trial..."
The archeologists shared a silent question; '*Do you know who this could be?' 'Not a clue'*
Mary turned back to the man and started, "I'm sorry, we're not sure. What trial was this?"
He nodded, "They did try to keep it quiet. Not good for the royals if the people learned that their best healer had been sentenced to banishment and locked in this forsaken cave."
*Healer?* No, that didn't add up. Why would a healer still be alive after all this time? Howard was on guard again and probed to try to catch the man in his lie, "You were a healer?"
"One of the best!" He sat straighter, "Maybe even *the best*. A great surgeon when I first started. I preformed more lobotomies than any others in all of Greece!"He held his arms out wide and stuck his chin up proudly, "The sick would come to me from worlds away to be cured of their headaches!"
Mary looked to her partner with wide eyes. Howard blinked at the man. Of course Howard knew of ancient medical practices. But to hear someone boast about the barbaric treatments...
The 'healer' continued, "It was after some decades that I began moving to chemistry and discovered the most curious tonic. A silvery liquid metal. It could cure anything! I prescribed it to all of my patients because of its incredible results,"
Mary's hand flew to cover her mouth as she gave her partner a look of complete incredulity. She wished he was joking. She knew he was not.
Howard opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again, and asked in a strained voice, "Then why are you here?"
The healer let out a breath, his shoulders falling. He looked to the side. "I was preforming a trepanation for a foreign prince.... He did not make it." Neither archeologist spoke and so he continued, "Their King was enraged. I was banished here. I wrote appeals and please everywhere. I had assumed you were here to inform me of my release..."
Mary, who's palm was now pressed into her forehead, shook her head, "No..." But she was at a loss for words and didn't elaborate.
Howard stared at the walls of the cave and with his brows raised high and lips pursed. "Ahh," He tried to explain, "No... It's, it's quite some time since... the king... ordered you banished... It's 2035..." The healer canted his head in confusion. "It's probably been around twenty-five hundred years..."
The healer scoffed. "Nonsense, " He waved his hand dismissively, "I'm a *healer*. I wouldn't live past a hundred!" He laughed at the archeologist's joke. For it must be a joke, and he was being release today.
Mary, still in a sort of disbelief, couldn't say anything.
"Noo," Howard dragged, "No... Lobotomies don't work. And mercury is *not* a medicine, buddy."
"Nonsense!" The healer repeated, and jumped up, surprising both partners, "I will go straight to Caesar and offer him my services immediately. I am sure he will be in want of them, after these months I've been gone!" And with that he strode out of the cave, leaving the archeologists behind in dismay. | 2020-05-16T06:27:49 | 2020-05-16T05:35:38 | 79 | 24 |
[WP] "Fool!" The warlock screamed, unharmed from any of the slashes. "The prophecy had stated that no human may slay me!" The unchosen warrior stared at their blade. The sword wasn't human, was it? | "Wait, what?" the noble knight said and stared at his blade - he was told it was of the highest quality and... the logic checked out.
"No man can slay me, fool!" the warlock laughed.
"But this is a sword."
The warlock stared at the knight for a moment, lost for words. "Y-yes, yes it is."
"The sword is not a human," the knight continued.
"Wait seriously? That's not what that means," the warlock fired back; he didn't even bother throwing in an insult, being genuinely confused. "Look, it was made by a human, you're a human and-
"Oh hold on then, let me try something," the knight said casually. The warlock furrowed his eyebrows and raised his hands to cast a spell but paused. Looking down, he saw the knight's hand... elbow deep in his chest. Blood poured from his mouth as he managed to utter a single word.
"How?"
And with that, the Warlock slumped over, dead, the knight standing above him.
"Is he dead?" the noble knight said - yet his mouth did not move.
"I can't see. Hold on," the noble knight said in a different voice - yet his mouth did not move.
Suddenly, his head snapped back as if he was nearly decapitated, only hanging by a... latch? No blood, no meat, only a hole from which peeked out a rat.
"Looks dead," the rat said and twitched its whiskers.
"You sure?" another voice came from within the suit of armour.
"I- I mean he's got a fist-sized hole in his sternum Gary, you tell me," the head rat snapped back.
"Hey, just making sure. Don't want another Elerland situation, right?"
The head rat rubbed its eyes with one paw as it recalled the situation in Elerland. Who knew a single mimic could be that much trouble - and don't even mention the *paperwork*.
"Right, well, this fellow's as dead as they get. I'd like to record a special commendation for mechanic Rattskin for these hand hydraulics. This was..." the rat said and looked down at the bloody corpse of the warlock, "...*yikes*. Effective, though."
"Commendation... noted," another voice, located near the left elbow, rang out, followed by the subtle sound of a quill scratching on paper.
"We oughta go back," the head rat said, skittering back into the knight's body and closing the faux head. "If we make haste, we can collect the reward and still make it to Breeze's Cheeses before they close."
An uproar of squeaky cheers echoed through the armour as the knight somewhat clumsily turned around and set out to the town.
Another honest day's work. | M'Darkel the Wizard had smashed the Blessed warriors with fireballs and repeated his brag; "The prophecy had stated that no human may slay me, these Words are from the Prophet Hemour, just before I slayed him"
Tannek, unblessed, hadn't been caught in the rain of fireball. He glanced down at his blade, sleathed it, and ran toward the hill where the stump of Hemour's tree still stood. The only rise on the plain, lightning had struck the tree repeatedly until it was just a stump. The Wizard marched after him, determined to wipe out all of the warriors.
Jabback, seeing his master running toward him, felt the rain hitting his bare skin. The storm was coming. The wind was picking up speed, thunder came from the distance. Could Tannek out run the Wizard's fireballs until the rain stopped the Wizard's fire? Jabback prepared the weapons for his master, the crossbows were tightly wound and the quarrels were loaded.
The rain was pouring down, but M'Darkel wasn't worried. He could handle a unblessed warrior in his sleep, even without fireballs. Tannek glanced over his shoulder, and then looked skyward, the rain was falling fiercely and the thunder was closer. He slowed down and the wizard gained on him. Tannek ran across the crest of the hill, grabbed a crossbow and waited.
M'Darkel crested the hill and was surprised to see Tannek. The quarrel pierced his chest. He started laughing at the attempt. Then he saw Tannek raise the second crossbow t the sky. The quarrel soared into the storm, a thin wire trailer the quarrel. M'Darkel realized that the quarrel in his chest also had a wire attached. The lightning bolt found the rising quarrel, and the electricity followed the wire to the wizard. The explosion knocked Tannek back, but he remained standing, watching the wizard burn. | 2022-06-12T15:20:15 | 2022-06-12T13:01:53 | 225 | 73 |
[WP] You wake up in King Arthur's court with only the clothes on your back. Merlin hands you a box about the size of a pumpkin and tells you it will wish into existence any object from your age, once per day. Camelot will be attacked and destroyed one week from now. Help us, future-man. | "What the hell?" The old man, who said his name was Myrddin Emrys, was nearly impossible to understand. He was speaking English, some of which I recognized from my university reading of Chaucer, but it wasn't the words but what he said I didn't get.
I held up my hand to shut him up for a second while I tried to wrap my head around what he was saying. "So this box, yes, BOX," as if speaking loudly would make him understand me better. Idiot. "Will let me oferferian? What the hell is oferferian?"
He mimed a movement, then with a frown, walked over to a bucket, picked it up up and carried it to me. Dropping it, he pointed. "Oferferia," he said.
"Move? I can move stuff with the box?" I asked
"Moovee?" the old man considered my word. "Ah, ábire. Yea, moovee!"
"Not moovee, you moron. Move. Okay, I can move stuff with this box. Once a day." We had already established that in seven days the castle Camelot will be attacked. Myrddin, who I suspected was the Merlin of legend, had brought me here by some unknown means (maybe the box?) because he believed that I was Camelot's only hope to prevent the destruction of the castle and death of Arthur, wielder of Caliburn. I thought the sword's name was Excaliber, but Myrddin was quite clear it was not.
I thought carefully. One object. Size wasn't relevant. One per day. I looked at Myrddin and slowly smiled. "I can do that," I said.
_____________________________________________________________
The army that had arrived and arranged itself for attack outside the castle was clearly superior to the force Arthur had to defend Camelot. I had realized in the previous seven days that in spite of the romance and legends around him, Arthur was a minor king and he, and his knights, had pissed off a lot of powerful people. Were it not for Myrddin's guidance, he would have been dead long before now.
It turned out that the stories were right about Arthur's love life but wrong about the rest. Guinevere was the woman he loved but she was (had been?) a queen who was newly married to another king, name of Mordred. Yes, THAT Mordred. Her father, some guy named Leo-something or other, had married her off in a political alliance. Arthur was at the wedding, got smitten and she with him, so they ran off together. A real Helen of Troy story. Myrddin was initially pissed but then desperate as the armies of Mordred and those of her father Leo had joined forces to teach this little pissant king a serious lesson.
Well, I had a week. That was plenty of time. A knight had ridden up and offered Arthur a chance to save his people by surrendering to the "dómfæstnes". Myrddin had to explain to me that mean something like righteous justice. Of course, Arthur declined and so battle was to be joined.
Day one I had brought over the first object and spent the entire week training training a small group of knights how to use it. Do you know how nearly impossible it is to train medieval knight to aim and shoot a 50 calibre machine gun? The first time it fired and tore up a target, they ran screaming away.
I only brought three, and as they came with some rounds, there was about enough to kill twice the number of those aligned against us. I used my transport box to add ammo on day four and five, teaching those who had proven capable how to change the ammo belt.
Day six, the last day before the siege, I brought over the pièce de résistance. It would have been perfect to find someone who could drive the thing, but it was enough that my military background allowed me to aim and fire the beast. I had spent all day training one of the most flexible and capable of the knights on his role, to load. When we test fired he all but fainted but he was pretty sturdy stuff.
I sat, camouflaged, covered in branches and wood so the enemy would now know we were here. Once the fighting began it would make no difference, as no weapon they had could even touch us. I could see them preparing to attack and looked at my fellow passenger. "Ready for this, Gal?" I asked. He didn't understand my words, but he knew that tone and grinned at me.
They were preparing to attack, so I started up the engine then, leaving the brake on, crawled into the gunner's seat. The first round of HE was already loaded, so all I had to do was decide where to put it. I decided that where the two kings were sitting on horseback, safely behind their knights, yeoman and peasant fodder, was perfect.
"Okay, bitches, let's see how you fare against an M1 Abrams!" I shouted gleefully as the first round rocked the tank back on its treads.
| Lying on my back I begrudgingly realize it's morning. I really can't be bothered waking up. Stretching my arms over my head I yawn deeply, quickly interrupted by a mouthful of smoke... my incense must still be smoldering still from last night. Extending my finger tips I notice I can't feel the wall at end of my bed. Feeling around I fumble to pull my pillow to me...Wait, no pillow either?. I let out a sigh *ugh*. I must have fallen out of bed.
I open an eye and shield it immediately from the bright light, forcing me grunt from the shock. Rolling to my front I drag my knees to my chest one at a time - I let out a slight groan, stiff from sleeping on the floor. Slowly peeking through the slits of my eye lids I adjust to the brightness of the room. It's then I notice I'm on a soft lush deep crimson rug, looking up the it ends upon a polished stone floor. I see I'm in the middle of what appears to be a large hall, huge pillars rise up to a vaulted ceiling. Built into the pillars are dozens of lit candles, adding ambiance to the bright morning light glimmering off the smooth stone floor from windows. Gathering my senses I stand up, rubbing my eyes they focus and I notice I'm not alone. People lining the walls around me are staring and whispering to each other. They appear dressed in shawls of orange and red. A slight feeling of confusion and embarrassment over come me; *am I dreaming?*. Looking to my left and turning, I bump into something... no, it's someone.
A tall elderly gentleman in a worn dark blue cloak looks down upon me, his face a serious look of contempt made even more stricken by the deep wrinkles between his thick furled brow. A long grey beard flows over his cloak, hiding several medallions hanging from his neck. Meeting his steely pale blue eyes, they appear to look right in through me. Seconds pass as I meet his gaze, his eyes boring into my skull. I open my mouth to speak, but only manage a white noise, *uhhh*. Abruptly he turns and I follow his gaze to a young man sitting on a throne atop a stage in the room. He is garnished in several layers of fine silks and cloths of bright velvets and reds, an intricate bright gold jewel encrusted crown upon his head. Next to him an empty throne, and either side of his platform are two, what appear to guards, in chain mail and freshly polished thigh, knee and shin armor. At their side a sword each, a red sash around their waste and matching red tunic under the armor. The elderly man speaks in a slow and clear deep voice "Arthur, I present to you this here savior of ours, summoned from afar".
*Wait, what?*, did I hear that correctly?. Looking quizzically between the old man and the throne bound 'Arthur'. I go to step forward when from no where the old man extends his arm in front of me, now with a staff in hand, and stands it in my path, *where did that come from?*, I wonder. Before I could think or proceed further, Arthur declares "Splendid work Merlin, be sure he is the one". And suddenly I am ushered by two of the guards out of the room, with the old man leading the way. I follow stumbling over the first couple of steps, still hazy in my waking up. Confusion now holds me closely.
After being led down a stone hallways for a minute, I follow the old man, Merlin, to a room. He gestures me to a wooden chair against one wall and he makes his way to a table at the far end. I try to speak a couple times, but each met with a stamp of his staff on the ground as he rummages through piles of books and scrolls. Minutes pass and he eventually turns to face me. A gentler look rests on his face now, and moments pass as he looks at me, then states, "You have been brought here to save our kingdom, Camelot". I raise an eyebrow and query, "I have been brought *where*, exactly?"
----
Will continue later, even if just for myself :) | 2016-11-28T03:38:57 | 2016-11-28T01:40:06 | 241 | 58 |
[WP] Your daughter has been begging you for a pony, and you told her to write a letter to Santa. On Christmas morning, you find a fire-breathing horse in your front yard, and a package by your front door. Looks like she wrote a letter to Satan, and he delivered.
Whoa. This blew up way more than I expected it to.
Edit: Like... A lot more. Thanks guys. | "I was late, and it could fly."
I shifted nervously in my seat and reached for a glass of water that I had already drained.
The team from HR didn't respond right away, so I had time to fill my glass and drink again before I went on.
"I realize that's not a great excuse for why there's a fire-breathing Nightmare Pony parked in my space, but my car broke down, I had a really important meeting, and well...Mister Pibbles was all I could think of."
The HR lady found her voice. "Mister Pibbles? You call it Mister Pibbles?"
"Actually, my daughter named him. He was kind of a Christmas present. It's really kind of a funny story, although maybe not in this room, at this particular..."
"Is it dangerous?"
"Oh god yes," I answered before I really had time to think. Then I had to try and backtrack. "I mean, he's always potentially dangerous, but so are big dogs, right? He wouldn't hurt family, and he shouldn't be a danger to random strangers as long as he's got his soul bag on..."
I kind of trailed off at that point, worried that some bright spark in the HR department would ask me how I manage to fill a pony-sized feed bag full of human souls.
Fortunately, no one did.
"I'm really sorry about this, but can I just take him home?"
The big boss spoke up, trying to maintain an air of authority, as his personal view of the universe crumbled quietly around him.
"I'm about this close to calling the police, or locking that thing up where it can't hurt anybody."
I shook my head. "Bad idea. Very bad idea. Please do not interact with Mister Pibbles. Don't pet him, don't move him, and whatever you do, don't ASK HIM for anything! In fact, it's best if you don't wish for anything really specific when you're close to him. If he's feeling playful he might try to get it for you and we really do not want a repeat of the birthday kitten situation."
"How did you end up with this creature in the first place?"
"Reading may be fundamental, sir, but proper spelling can save your soul." | Dear Mr. Lorenski,
It sure has been a while since anyone's wrote to me, let alone asked me for anything. So, let me be clear, I gave it my all. You'd think it'd be easy, being the ruler over the eternal pits of despair and damnation, but no way bro. Catching, taming, and then training a wild Nightmare to come at the beck and call of a small child... now that's pretty close to eternal torture (next time I'll just get Hitler to do it! Although I'd hate for your precious princess to have to wait that long. Hitler does quality work, but it ends up taking too long and he can't ever finish completely, for some reason...) Anyway, I'm sure by now you're wondering what's in the package. Well, I know it might be too soon now, but when your little girl grows up she's gonna need proper riding attire. Oh yes, the Nightmare doesn't age or die, so it'll be with her for a looong time. Hope she likes wearing black (Oh who am I kidding? Of course she will!) Anyway, I've got to go. Seems like I'll be taming three more horses, and Hitler's still due for a pineapple. Cheers!
Undoubtedly,
Satan. | 2017-09-25T18:40:35 | 2017-09-25T16:44:24 | 40 | 27 |
[WP] In order to get a shot at going to Valhalla, you must die with a weapon in your hands. You just died and are now sitting in front of Odin's advisory board as they discuss whether a spatula actually counts. | "You may not enter the sacred hall of warriors!" Thor boomed at me, clad in my jammies and 'Kiss the Cook' apron. "Only true heroes who perished in the field of battle may join us."
It was a little jarring, really. There I was, cooking breakfast, and suddenly I end up... here. I'm not sure what to make of all of this, but if this club is exclusive, I'll definitely swindle my way in.
"And who are you to decide what the field of battle is, Mr. Winghat?" I called out to Thor who was obviously very unhappy with this scrawny, balding man standing before him. "Who's to say that the kitchen is not the most dangerous battlefield, and hunger is the most relentless enemy? What is the rule, exactly?"
Thor growled, "You must be a warrior and..."
"Wrong, Thor." The eldest and most intimidating man, Odin, spoke. "The rule for Valhalla is you must die wielding a weapon. Now," Odin addressed me, "do you meet this requirement to join us in everlasting glory?"
What was I holding? Think man, think! I was making breakfast. Was is poptarts? Cereal? Eggs? Wait! I was making pancakes and pancakes requires... a spatula. Great.
"O Great and Righteous Odin, grand ruler of Valhalla, I believe I am worthy of entry." Shmoozing will definitely help my case.
"With what weapon?" Thor inquired, clearly tired of my antics. "You were wielding a plastic flipper! A spatula! Why, you couldn't couldn't even hurt a deathly ill man! That is not a weapon."
I scoff. I already know I can win this. "On the contrary, Thor, I would like to argue that the spatula is a weapon of great power!" This is going to be easy. I hold the spatula aloft. "Behold, the awesome might of my weapon!"
Readying myself, I charge forward, lifting the cheap, plastic tool above my head. Nearing my target, I strike!
FWAP
The spatula sweeps across Loki's face, who until now had just been watching the discussion with idle bemusement, leaving a clean, red mark across his slender face. His face of bewilderment was exactly what I had hoped for.
"As you can see, O wonderful Odin," I began, quickly receeding from Loki, "The spatula has the great power of confusion! While used on creatures of moderate size does little lasting damage, it will leave them befuddled, opening up for a strike of greater strength! Not only that, but it can crush small creatures under its wide face!"
Loki, though utterly pissed, took amusement from this, heightened by Thor boiling rage. "I have felt this first-hand, Father. It is a fine weapon."
"Wha... bu... You..!" Thor sputtered.
Odin silenced everyone with his hand. "Young man, you have gall to strike my son, Loki. Your argument is compelling. Very well, you may be granted entry into Valhalla." | "Wait, wait, wait. Just shut the hell up for a minute. Where the hell are Jesus and Saint Peter and those angels - you know what? Never mind! I don't give a damn about them. You? You Norse God mother-fuckers who I only know because days in the week are named after you? You're in charge? Okay. Let's work with that."
"In my hand I hold a spatula. Yeah, you're right, it's not built to be a weapon - but, then again, the first weapons were built to be tools, too. And this spatula? It's made out of good metal and, if you haven't noticed by now, it's got a few little blood-stains on it, to boot. Yeah, you heard me, Thor. Blood stains."
"Three of those jack-asses broke into my house. They scared my cat. She fell, she hurt her leg. The first one went down quick - this little tool of mine? It took his fucking head off. That's how hard I hit him; caught him right in the wind-pipe, severed the tissue, boom, done."
"The second put the first bullet in me and put my little girl down. He died slow. I stabbed him with it, over and over, the dull corners breaking through breast-bone in tiny little fucking chunks. Yeah, through his body armor, don't try for those trick questions, Loki. Just, no. Be silent."
"The third? Him and I tussled for a while, but ultimately he put two more bullets in me before I took his god damned joints apart with the spatula. Last I checked, he was still breathing - just not going anywhere any time soon."
"I don't know why those fucks came for me, and I don't care. They sounded like Russian mobsters, and if I had my way I'd go through every god-damned one of 'em with this same fucking spatula. It's the spatula I had on my hand the day Nessa died."
"I don't give a shit about your warrior heaven. Give me my cat back and let me go on my way." | 2018-03-26T13:00:34 | 2018-03-26T11:38:31 | 40 | 25 |
[WP] A girl becomes pen pals with a demon prince when she accidentally intercepts one of his magic scrolls. They carry on correspondence for years, confessing their secrets & dreams to each other. One day, the prince, soon to be king, sends the girl, now a woman, a final scroll: a marriage proposal.
Boy/princess responses are also welcomed. |
"Oh Eris, you look beautiful. Truly beauty befitting of King Beelzebub's tastes."
I was wearing an elaborate black wedding gown, face powdered with pasty white makeup, sitting in front of the mirror and was about to be the wed to the Demon Prince, or rather after today, the Demon King.
Five years ago, the world was at peace, humans and demons coexisted peacefully.
Five years ago, I was in the carriage with my parents, until they got murdered by the forest bandits.
Five years ago, as an 18 year old girl, I wandered from city to city, begging, crawling, doing whatever I could to survive.
And it was Five years ago, where I just so happen to find the Demon Prince's scroll that fell out of the sky. It was a message to the capital, a celebration of the 100 years of peace between humans and demons. I scoffed at the word peace. Around the continent there were people like me suffering, not from demons, but due to cruelty and greed of humans. Sometimes I wished the war continued and maybe, humans would be a little more compassionate to their own kind.
That's when it hit me, I could take my revenge. I could eliminate human greed forever. This was a god sent opportunity.
I walked down the isle,and for the first time in my life I saw the "love of my life" Beelzebub.
"It's been 5 long years darling, and finally I've freed you from your captives. Half your disgusting race is gone and our wish has finally come to fruition." Despite having millions of people slain by his hands, I can't help but think of him as naive little child, the exact same one I wrote to five years ago. It's hard to think how far I have come, after months of the most cliche and mushy exchange of scrolls, I finally convinced this disgustingly innocent demon prince into my own personal pawn.
"I now present to the world the new Demon King Beelzebub, and his wife Queen Eris!"
Hordes of demons cheers and applause while the new Demon King looks at me with obvious passion in his eyes.
'He did fulfil my wish, let just pretend I care for him somewhat.'
I flashed him the brightest smile that I could muster, but my eyes remain stone cold. | Tears welled up in his eyes. He never thought this day would come! Who would have thought a boy like Raven would one day marry the Demon prince, Vinzty. He dropped the letter and shouted “Iyt tu-rzno” in his best Demonic tongue, which roughly translates to “I do.” The letter combusted, and the adorable groom-to-be seemed to evaporate.
In a burst of flames, Raven found himself in the largest room he had ever seen. With black walls, chandeliers lit with purple fire, and two thrones in the back, Raven couldn’t help but smile. In a burst of green and purple flames, the demon prince arrived. As if they were already there, the room was suddenly filled with pews of demons of all colors and knights in blue armor.
Raven’s clothing was changed into a beautiful dress made of purple flames. He couldn’t help but stand there astonished, but he soon realized they were waiting for him to come stand with his groom. He walked towards the smiling demon, as the knights on both sides on him saluted, swords in hands. It was a little weird being the only person with clothing on, but Raven didn’t mind too much.
Vinzty was smaller than Raven. He had brown hair that raised up into flames, and he had purple eyes and green skin. They greeted each other with a long kiss, as the crowd howled and awed. Raven finally got his happy-ever-after.
(If you actually read this, please assassinate me.) | 2018-05-07T00:58:37 | 2018-05-06T23:39:22 | 43 | 24 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | "Checking in now in the livestock quandrant-"
"Blarb, we can't call it-"
"-the 'less developed' quadrant." Blarb waved a dismissive tentacle at Rankle and continued. "These participants are those that haven't mastered spaceflight or any reasonable level of technology, but still qualify for Contest based on their intelligence potential. They even have to be teleported here! They wouldn't be able to find this space station without someone bringing them along! What do you think our chances of having a grand champion from the less developed quadrant, Rank?"
"Obviously, the odds are slim, Blarb. Last year's Contest was actually prolonged by weeks because the less developed contestants actually got along pretty well and didn't kill each other enough to reach the threshold to open their gates to the main arena."
"That was a nightmare. I'm glad they've tweaked the rules this year, setting a three day time limit on that zone. Luckily, those contestants are generally biological in nature, so an extermination event will leave the zone clean and ready for next year."
A high pitched screetch emitted from the grey cloud betweent the two commentators. Blarb and Rankle looked at each other, the cloud, then simultaneously returned to their microphones, pretending to have understood the higher being.
"A notable participant is the human!" Blarb continued, forcing as much enthusiasm and interest into his voice as he could. "For the last 12 hours, it looks like she's been building a shelter! And it's made of biomass!" Rankle chuckled along to Blarb's tone. "Look at this summary, Rank. Humans are known for manipulating physical objects by applying force through other physical objects. This particular human was selected as a treat this year - records indicate that she is from a continent surrounded by oceans that have trapped some of the deadliest creatures of that planet there. Apart from growing up in such a hostile environment, she opted to train for even more combat with one of her planet's military factions! It is a little disappointing that she seems to be behaving a lot like last year's human.."
"Oh yes! The tooth one!" Rankle had been genuinely curious about the class of humans called dentists. "I really thought he would use his teeth powers to rise to at least the top of the quadrant, but instead he ran and hid the whole time. We didn't even see any of the fear inducing antics they are known for on Earth!"
Another trill from the vortex between them. Maybe it was hungry?
Blarb returned to inspecting the human on the screen. "It looks like she's finished building the shelter, though from this angle it just looks like a giant pile of tree material with no discernable structure. Oh! And now she's going to try and provide some warmth for herself. When humans stay below a certain temperature, they stop functioning permanently, so we're probably going to see a bit of this in future."
Blarb and Rankle leaned down to their screens, pushing their microphones away for a moment. "Is she self-terminating?" "Maybe she wanted to light one side of the shelter and the oxygen is higher than-" "Then why isn't she inside? When did she make a blanket?" "Is she feeding MORE oxygen into a combustion...?"
The two straightened up and regained their composure. Rankle took the lead while Blarb watched the screens in silence. "Viewers of the contest, there's some interesting activity in the less developed quadrant that you all might want to witness. The human - yes, the human - has just initiated a combustion reaction at the edge of zone. Note that this is one of the highest oxygen zones in the Contest, and she is now hiding under a woven textile referred to in most cultures as a blanket. We don't know if this is an elaborate protest or simple self termination, but this is... this is going to devastate the quadrant."
Blarb and Rankle watched in mute appreciation of the destruction ripping through the zone. A fire tore through the zone, spreading almost as fast as it would in a space station corridor, fed continually as the Contest's systems tried to bring the oxygen level up to baseline.
There had been many acts of savagery in the history of the Contest, but these were generally in smaller one on one fights and the occasional two on ones when a hasty alliance was formed. This was unprecidented. Blarb was certain that in a few minutes, the livestock quadrant would be the first gate to open into the wider Contest, if there was anything left alive in there to release. | Oh god. I have no internet so let’s try writing this from my phone. Sorry in advance for typos and punctuation. Already hard enough on the phone but I also got fat thumbs! Best I can get with a quick and dirty write up on the bus!
“Are the contestants ready?”
“Of course Game Master Zerg. Right on time. We have a line up from several different galaxys.”
“And a human?”
“Good! Proceed post haste! You can’t find entertainment like this else where and the people are waiting!”
The arena looked like a scrunched up map. Forests sat next to deserts, desserts next to snowy plains and ice topped mountains and so on. It was the Game Masters goal to encapsulate as many environments as he could, to allow all the fighters a place to move naturally.
Zeg focused his screen on a human who stood on a grassy hillock, flanked by a river, and speckled with trees. The humans always died first, but they could get pretty creative while attempting to live. They where like a firework, short lived but spectacular.
This one was a bit odd though. It was covered from head to toe in green armor, a large Warhammer in his grasp. It mattered not though, an Xixliv was stalking the human. This 6 lumber creature where apex predators as well as being fully sapient. A mix of instinct and critical thought.
Zeg sighed, the human this year probably wouldn’t be very entertaining. He watched the Xixliv pounce.
The human however was ready, they wheeled around shouting “FOR THE GLORY OF DUNDEE!” While swing his might hammer. It collided with the Xixliv with a sickening crunch. The hammer flashed, thunder struck and half of the beats body was atomized. What was left of its mangled carcass flew through the air before hitting the ground in an unceremonious heap.
Zeg sat stunned. He watched the human raise his hammer to the sky. “Zagothrax! What kind of joke is this! Come and fight me you damnable wizard!”
Zeg was mid throught caught between wondering who or what a Zagothrax was, and how the human managed to beat a Xixliv in one hit? His pondering was interrupted as the entire structure of the planet sized ship, the contained the arena, shook. Alarms blazed.
Zeg flicked several switches and demanded a status report.
“W-w...Idono sir. We are under attack...but this...this can’t be possible.”
“Out with it you bumbling oaf!”
“ We are being attacked by just one person...bio scans indicate that it’s heart is...a Neutron Star. It’s currently making its way to the arena.”
“A Neutron Star? This isn’t the time for jokes. Get security down to the arena doors. I will meet this invader myself!”
Before Zeg had the chance to stand, he watched the walls of the arena blow open from his observation room. The smoke and debris settled revealing what looks to be a muscled, finely toned man, garbed in furs of various beasts, caring nothing more than a battle axe.
“Angus! What are you doing here? We have no time for games!” The man shouted.
“Hootsman! Thank goodness! I believe this to be a trap set by the wizard.”
“ Its nothing of the sort! Quickly with me! We must return to space! The chaos wizards move on Cowdenbeath!”
The two figures quickly fled through the hole in the arena. Leaving Zeg stunned and sputtering commands into his microphone. | 2020-09-13T19:10:50 | 2020-09-13T18:50:43 | 78 | 23 |
[WP] You've become friends with a murder of crows. They occasionally mimic you, saying simple greetings or short phrases. Today, they seem uninterested in your offerings, and almost appear on edge. Waiting for something. You try to ask them what's wrong. "Hide," one caws swiftly. | We're wandering in the park where we run what's been affectionately dubbed the 'Crow Experiment,' when I hear it.
"Hide," caws a crow. It ruffles its ebony-dark wings as it admires its taloned feet, glinting in the sunset.
“Damn it, Kyle, stop tampering with my experiment! It’s not funny anymore.”
Kyle doesn’t respond.
He’s been unusually quiet today, not like his normal cheerful self at all.
“Kyle. It’s not funny,” I repeat.
He still doesn’t answer. His face is tinged with green, and his hands shake a little as he takes a sip from his coffee mug.
Finally, he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I know what you’ve been researching. Why you’ve captured so many crows, why you’ve been bribing them with treats. Why you've been,” he hisses, looking around apprehensively, "teaching them to *speak.*"
I laugh nervously. “What do you mean?”
"st-op--" a crow croaks.
I turn around to glare at it, making a mental note to remove the crow from the sample population later. A fair experiment is crucial if I want a valid result.
"Stop denying it! I saw your notes on the 'Crow Goddess'; I know what you're planning. It's not going to work!"
I wonder, briefly, if the liquid in Kyle's mug is really coffee. I sigh. "Look, I don't know what you saw, but whatever it was, I can explain! I swear. Let's go back to the lab, okay? We can take a day off, maybe watch a movie or something. I've clearly been overworking you."
He shakes his head violently."No! I know what I saw," he seethes," and I'm warning you. I'm reporting you to the authorities--summoning spells? Merging rituals? *Blood sacrifices*?"
Another crow screeches. "Flee--"
"See, even the crows are telling you to stop! You don't know what you're messing with."
I smile. Kyle finally registers something is wrong. He starts backing away from me. "No. No, no, what did you do?"
"Oh, Kyle. It's too late. I know *exactly* what I'm messing with."
The murder of crows gather around me, their ebony-dark wings fluttering, razor-sharp talons glinting, gleaming a metallic shimmering crimson as the sun dies.
I smile at what used to be Kyle.
"Silly Kyle. The crows were never talking to me." |
I've walked these snow covered paths as long as I've lived in the old village. Lost in the woods with my avian friends I usually found solace; Now amongst the twisting dark branches I found only cold fear.
Quickly I turn into the trees, blindly following my feet and the watchful mimics in the sky. Through my pounding heart and shaking breath I tried to listen for any sounds from my would be attacker, but hearing nothing but the snow crunching beneath my feet as I carved my way to hopeful safety.
"Here," a small voice cooed from above, leading me deeper into the brush. I quickly ducked behind a fallen tree, fresh snow lightly clinging to my jacket and hair.
I take small breaths, using my hand to try to conceal myself further as breath floats away visibly in small puffs. The moon behind a scattering of clouds and barren trees illumates the ground in gentle whisperings, threatening to expose me.
The wind carries the moons gaze across the path that moments ago I was leaving treasures for my friends. A tear rolls halfway down my cheek before freezing in place, I squeeze my eyes shut, willing away the darkness eclipsing my life. I open my eyes in disappointment to not be in my own bed, waking from a vivid dream.
Above me sat my murder watching down with weary eyes, sitting lifeless as a painting. Together we waited in the cold night, the still silence stretching out for what seemed like an eternity, until all at once they took flight. The beating of their wings in the sky above matched the pumping of my heart, but no sound was louder in my ears than the crunching snow beneath a heavy boot behind me. | 2021-12-29T08:42:33 | 2021-12-29T02:27:19 | 84 | 46 |
[WP] JFK shot first. | "Sir, you sure you want the top down?"
"Yesss, everything will be fine." He smiled wryly. Adjusting his suit jacket, he gave a slight pat on both sides. He felt the assuring press of American iron on both of his hips.
"Let's go meet my Constituents."
The hardest part was keeping up the facade. He knew anyone in the crowd could be the assassin, but for appearances he smiled and waved. He had to draw them in, had to find out who they were working for.
Suddenly, a call in his ear piece.
"The Library! Book Depository, high..."
Kennedy spun around, falling back first onto the back of the driver's seat. There! A glimmer from a scope! In a swift motion he drew his dual Python revolvers from his belt, and let loose.
BLAM BLAM BLAM! One round after the next, the cylinders spun. The massive caliber rounds blowing chunks of brick and wood as they painted the tower window. The crowd erupted in shrieks and yells, the terrified onlookers running in all directions. Click click...sssssisssss. The smoke from the last rounds fizzled into the air. John squinted at the window, where a bloodied arm now dangled freely, it's owner breathing his last breaths.
John holstered his revolvers, and sat up a little from his position, resting on the convertible side.
"Phew, what a day." He sighed, "Jackie, you al-" BANG! A shot rang out, cutting him off.
The bullet tore through his shoulder, ripping him violently in a 180 over the edge of the car.
He had barely hit the pavement when he heard more shots ringing out, peppering the vehicle.
"The grassy knoll...of course." He winced.
His Secret Service began to return fire, but as John looked around in a daze, he saw agents being dropped one by one. The pain from his arm too intense to do anything other than draw himself up against the side of the car.
Silence. The last shot echoed across the now empty street, followed by footsteps. Closer, closer, turning around the rear of the car. John looked up, head still spinning.
"M...Marilyn? But you're dead?"
"A clever ruse. I've always been a spy. And you...You really are a fool. You think you could dissolve the Federal Reserve and not face the music?" She raised her pistol to his forehead. "I think its time for your resignation, Mr. President."
Kennedy closed his eyes. Blam! He winced. But wait...he wasn't dead. He opened his eyes, Marilyn lay sprawled on the pavement, a hole the size of a coconut in her chest.
"This time. Stay dead...bitch."
He looked up quickly to see Jackie, standing in the car, smoking shotgun in hand.
"I love you, dear. Let's go home."
| He knelt behind his scope, letting the cigarette smoke curl around his face.
From his vantage, he saw the motorcade approaching before the segment of crowds beneath his tower. They began to cheer.
*Foolish sheep.* He grunted to himself, blowing out a plume of smoke. Then in a habit as deeply ingrained as breathing, he began checking himself. First his rifle. Then his watch. Then his surround-
A sudden glint was all the warning he had before he flinched back, his scope disintegrating where his eye would have been.
He scrabbled back madly behind a column and took cover. As he recovered his breath, he quickly checked that the second rifle was loaded.
When he was sure he was safe, he took a risk and glanced down the trajectory of the bullet. The assassin only had a moment to catch a glimpse of the shooter before another shot pinged off his barrier.
The motorcade was now passing between the screaming crowds.
And JFK had him pinned down.
*Fuck.*
"Do you wish to discuss this?" The assassin asked. "Why I need to kill him?"
"Not really. If more people knew he existed, they'd want him dead too." The assassin watched JFK through the glass as he reached a window and stared at his doppelgänger down below, waving at the crowds.
"They wouldn't even be *wrong*, not in the way that *matters*..." This he almost under his breath.
JFK suddenly straightened and looked at glass. For a moment their eyes met in the mirror.
"Although, I am curious how you knew he would actually be in the motorcade today..."
The assassin grinned and lit another cigarette. He watched JFK watching him and shrugged.
"'Some things remain mysteries to us, despite our best efforts.'" He quoted to JFK as an answer.
"Of course." JFK answered, then curiously his reflection re-holstered his gun.
The assassin checked his watch and decided it was time. No one would ever chance like this again.
"The Shadow Presidency ends today!" He shouted and rushed for the window.
---
edit: Corrections (thanks /u/Pmhellothere) | 2018-01-02T09:51:41 | 2018-01-02T08:38:23 | 44 | 14 |
[WP] When humans finaly get to space and encounter galactic council, they discover that no, they are not the most adaptable or the fastest in research. What they have is an insanely long lifespan, compared to aliens that live only days or months... | As a great author once said, 'Space is big. Really big.' Really, the distances involved in getting from one star to another are more or less incomprehensible to human minds, and the time it would take to cross them was always a barrier to our species reaching out beyond our own solar system.
The neowarp engine solved that - at least, partially. Suddenly, travelling to the stars was a matter of months, not years - still a formidable journey but one that allowed us to reach out and colonise, settling new worlds and slowly inching out across the galaxy.
So it was that in the year 2621, the first human explorers met the Xrell. We were astounded - they had so much in common with us! Four limbs, bipedal, slight sexual dimorphism - aside from the curving horns and blue skin they could pass for human. The sci-fi writers of the 20th century were far closer than anyone thought possible.
First contact went well, and the delegates of humanity were invited to the great Galactic Festival, held, as far as we could make out, every sixteen years and next scheduled for seven years' time in the system of BR47-X, some eight months by neowarp drive from Earth.
Earth sent Yang, of course, and McDonnell, and Shankar, and the others who had made first contact. When they arrived they were met by such a profusion of people of all kinds, species in all shapes and sizes that humanity had ever imagined and many more besides.
But where, asked Yang after a few hours, are our old friends, the Xrell? Where is C'ram, and M'hlinga, and Ban'xiram?
So a messenger was sent out into the teeming crowds of the Festival and in due course, a delegate of the Xrell arrived.
"Humans! How exciting!" they cried out. "I am B'chira. My revered ancestor C'ram wrote of his encounters with your species. Oh, the stories I have heard! You are a part of our folklore now, despite all the years that have passed - why, we have had three wars and two revolutions since those days. Tell me - do the families of McDonnell and Shankar and our other friends persist?"
And so it was that Yang learned that the friends she had made seven years ago had been dead for six of them; and so it was that the Galactic Festival were first introduced to the humans, whose lives lasted long enough to travel between the stars. | The calming waves of the vast ocean gently brushed the crystalline white sands. A gentle harmony of land and sea. Vasco wondered what creatures lay beneath the blanket of the tide. His mind flashed back to a fishing trip his father had taken him to as a child along the Mississippi. How far away from home he was now. Vasco stared up at the crimson lit sky as the triple-suns stared back at him.
There were two questions that humanity had always been searching for since the dawn of existence. One, what happened after death? And two, was there anyone else out there? The first question remained a mystery but the second one had been answered rather abruptly by a lone radio frequency that reached a Radio Astronomy Laboratory in Berkeley. Vasco was the solitary scientist perched at his desk that night. Now thirty-five years later he stood, as an old man on the shores of a planet light-years away as an envoy, presenting himself to a Galactic gathering of sorts for various alien species.
Humanity had called them aliens, extra terrestrials, fallen angels, Nephilim. But Vasco stared at the hard truth of the matter. They were not altogether different from mankind. Each species was marked by slight genetic adaptations but it was almost as if they had the same creator. The alien races were far more technologically advanced than humanity, that much was clear. The questions that had bothered Vasco ever since that fateful night in the laboratory, why had the alien races contacted their dumb Galactic cousins? Why now?
Vasco turned away from the setting suns. He had a foreboding feeling he was about to find out the answer to his questions. | 2019-07-01T07:51:53 | 2019-07-01T04:16:55 | 77 | 15 |
[WP] Tell a story in which the narrator tells the reader a single lie. Readers are to deduce what the lie is using hints from the story. | All day, and all night, he works. He works, works, works, usually until I'm already in bed. Weekends, too. I haven't seen him in so long...
All I want is to play baseball with him, and give him hugs, make him tell me stories and play games. That's all.
But he's never home. Mommy's always sick, and she never wants to do anything with me. She tries, I know she does, but most of the time she's too tired. Her hair is gone now, and there are all these machines and stuff. She needs him, but he's not here. Daddy doesn't love us, not like we love him.
My auntie has to come and help mommy, because daddy won't do it himself. Her name is auntie Jane. She's very nice to me, and makes mommy feel better while daddy is at work.
Please come home, daddy.
-----
*very cool prompt! if you enjoyed this, you can check out /r/resonatingfury for more! and if you see anyone stuck at the bottom of this thread, please upvote them- there are a few people downvoting.* | We went to school together.
At first she didn't notice me.
Eventually we became friends.
I fell head over heels in love with her.
She fell in love with me.
I would surprise her with flowers and gestures.
She tired of them.
She fell in love with somebody else.
I fought hard for her.
I lost her.
I still love her.
I always will.
| 2016-04-14T09:40:26 | 2016-04-14T09:16:48 | 211 | 119 |
[WP] You fall in love with a girl, and the two of you have a happy relationship for a few years. But one day, you discover a massive hoard of valuables underneath the house, and that's when you realize you've been dating a dragon in human form. | When I went downstairs to the basement to begin the remodeling project that my girlfriend had been asking me to do, I wasn’t expecting it to already be done, and for our cellar to already be full of actual tons of gold coins and jewels.
“Holy shit...hey, Maya, can you come down here for a second?”
“Why, what’s wrong, darling? Ah, I see you’ve found my hoard. Well, um, this is quite awkward...”
“I mean, I’m not mad at you or anything, but how in the hell did all this gold and stuff end up in here? I was gonna put a TV and stuff in the basement, but now I don’t know if I even have any room to walk around down there without stepping on jewels and shit.”
“I certainly hope you wouldn’t, Jay. Those coins and jewels are very precious to me.” my girlfriend told me. “How dare you even say something like that! What kind of boyfriend are you, treating my precious treasure like it isn’t worth anything!!” Maya’s temper suddenly flared up, and the room got noticeably warmer.
“Babe, I never implied it was worthless, what the hell?! Calm down, I swear I’d never step on your precious treasure...” I backed away slowly, knowing exactly how to handle her fiery outbursts.
“Are you sure?” She asked me, glaring at me with an intensity that I’d never seen in her eyes before.
“I promise I won’t,” I told her.
“Okay...” she calmed down. “I’m sorry I acted out like that, Jay. I guess I can’t really hide my true self from you anymore, now that you’ve discovered my hoard.”
“True self?” I asked her, curious. The room slowly began to grow warmer again as my girlfriend’s body suddenly began to glow orange for several seconds, and a large pair of wings and a tail grew out from her back. Her pretty brown eyes had turned a very brilliant yellow, and her black hair had transformed into a vibrant red color.
“This, Jay, is who I really am...” Maya spoke to me.
“Whoa...” I was almost speechless. “Maya, what the hell are you...?”
“I am a dragon, from a land that is quite far from here; one that probably no longer exists. Before I met you, I was sent through a portal to burn down this town of yours, under the assumption that humans had not made any technological advancements that could stop me, but obviously that isn’t the case, since your government would probably take me away to Area 51 if you weren’t the first human that I had met,” she explained to me. “Your kindness taught me that the things I had been told about your kind were wrong, that there were no more dragon hunters left anymore, and I can’t thank you enough for that...”
“Oh, I see...” I listened to her, still keeping away from her in case she might accidentally burn me or something.
“Are you frightened?” She asked me. “I understand if you might be.”
“Honestly, I’m a little afraid, since I’ve never seen anyone like you outside of works of fiction, but I’m more shocked that you’ve managed to hide your secret from me for the last four years that we’ve been dating.”
“I guess I was just afraid that you might not love me anymore if you ever found out,” she confessed to me.
“Don’t be silly, Maya. I still think you’re beautiful, no matter what you look like. Even though your temper tantrums can be scary, even if I sometimes feel like I’m literally on fire every time you and I get intimate, I still love you for who you are,” I walked up to her and planted a kiss on her cheek.
“I love you too, Jay!” She suddenly hugged me and brought my body against her. I was expecting to get burned alive when she wrapped her arms around me, but her warmth was actually quite comforting.
“I know you do...” I ran my fingers through her hair, laughing. We stayed like that for several eternally long seconds before she finally let go of me.
“You know, maybe the basement should be locked up for now...” she told me, leading me upstairs out of the cellar.
“If that’s what you’d like, that’s fine with me. I was super bummed out about having to work down there all day anyway.” I sat down on the couch and turned on the TV in my living room.
“You’re so lazy sometimes, Jay,” she giggled, sitting next to me.
“So, uh, this might be a weird thing to ask, but now that I know you’re a dragon, do you think that maybe I could, like, ride on your back and fly around, like in Skyrim?” I asked her.
“Only if you buy me dinner first, darling. Doing that in dragon culture is considered very intimate, you know...” she replied, putting her head on my shoulder. | "But, seriously, Nina? The crown of England!?"
Nina eyes me from across the room and gives me her little eye tease-corner look.
I tilt my head until I am lying down and I stare up at the our bedroom ceiling.
"What," Nina protests, giving a little pout. "It was pretty..."
"Nina... " I say. "Nina, yes... so are you."
Nina smiles. I notice the jaggedness of her teeth all the more.
"Nina, even a pretty dragon can't fight off an entire country," I say.
It's clear that the enormity of the situation has yet to hit her.
I get up and sit across from her on the floor.
"Nina," I say. I cringe.
Nina's eyes begin to well.
"Aw, Nina, c'mere."
Before I know it, my dear girl it wetting my sleeve.
"Nina, look," I say. I try to find something to say.
"I- I'll give it back," Nina says.
My eyes widen. Nina is a sweety, makes great banana bread, and does not know how to sing. If there is one thing I've never seen Nina do... not since I met her and not these past two months since I've know her secret...
"Give it back?"
Now I'm worried.
"Nina, are you ok?" I ask.
Nina quiets, looking me in the eye. She tries to push me to the ground. She is strong, abnormally so, even in human form, but I resist.
Nina goes to the mirror.
I swear softly.
"Nina," I say, going after her. She lets me put my arm around her waist. "Nina, I wouldn't mind that," I say.
Nina pulls away and examines her lashes. Ever self-conscious Nina, ever beautiful...
"Ok," says Nina softly. I've clearly scared her with the mention of an army...
"But..." i add.
Nina looks back at me.
"But that's not Gonna help..."
I am very pained.
"Why," say Nina.
I cringe.
"Tell me again how you took it..."
Nina's eyes well again.
"With allot of noise...?" Nina says softly.
I nod.
Nina understands. The word "Experiments" flies through my mind. I can feel it on Nina's mind, too.
"There are more like you, right?" I say hesitantly. "Those... that are... um..." I stop. I was about to say: "Those that are left"
Nina nods. Something in her eye gives it a twitch.
I sigh.
"At least we have some money," I say. "You know, the stuff in the basement..."
Nina nods.
"Let's hide it somewhere," I say. "Anything we can't carry."
Nina nods, then freezes.
"Carry?" Nina says, alarmed.
I give her a questioning look.
"Why are we carrying?" Nina asks.
I look Nina in the eye.
"You don't think I'm going to leave you, do I?" I say.
Nina's eyes well again.
"Really?" she says. I sigh, thinking about my sleeve again.
"No," I say.
"Where are we gonna go?" Nina says.
I shrug.
"Mexico?"
Nina gives me an uncertain look.
"Australia?"
Nina does my cringe expression.
"China?"
Nina's face lights up.
"Yes!" Nina says.
I laugh.
Then I sigh. I kinda liked this house. The creaky musky look form the peeling wallpapered walls has seen better days, but it's got a certain smell.
"Ok," I say.
Nina hugs my arm.
"It'll be exciting," Nina says. Her eyes flash happily.
"Yeah, I know," I say with a sigh.
Nina pecks me on the cheek.
"Nina?" I say as an afterthought.
"Hm?"
"Um..."
I glance at Nina's happy though slightly worried expression as she distractedly fiddles with my moist sleeve.
"After you give it back... um, please don't do this in china," I say.
Nina nods, chastised.
I give her a hug.
"I'll start packing," I say. Nina nods gratefully. | 2020-08-03T09:58:09 | 2020-08-03T09:52:01 | 28 | 14 |
[WP] You found a newly awakened dungeon and defeated its weak guardians. But instead of taking the core, you fed it and gave it advice as it grew a few levels. Years later a small imp appears in your campfire and delivers a message from the dungeon you didn’t destroy. | No one *knows* where Dungeons come from, exactly.
Some say the Divine puts them here, to test us. Scientists, on the other hand, insist that spontaneously-manifesting sentient Dungeons, filled with traps and treasure, are simply a basic feature of the universe, and therefore require no explanation.
They'll say that, in a multiverse of limitless possibilities, we just *happened* to be born in the one universe that's finely tuned to support living catacombs that appear out of nowhere for no reason, and that's that.
Personally, I always suspected that they're some sort of strange *plant,* and some of the coins you find in them are really cleverly disguised *Dungeon seeds.* You take the coins and spend them, they circulate back into the Kingdom's economy, and eventually some of them are going to be buried in the ground by a paranoid miser, or placed over a dead person's eyes and *then* buried, and then, lo! You just planted a new Dungeon.
Whatever they are, and however they come into existence, I certainly never expected to receive a *letter* from one.
I'd been retired from adventuring for a few years, and hadn't even *seen* a dungeon in ages. But there was a sealed letter, purporting to be from a dungeon I'd previously visited: *The Tomb of Midnight.*
*Dear Sir Gregg,*
*It's been a long time. I've grown and changed a lot over the past few years, and I'm sure you have, too.*
I smiled, remembering it fondly. The Tomb had been just a *little* dungeon, that I'd stumbled upon by accident. It was only some stairs leading down into a dark hallway -- which was covered in rather obvious mousetraps that were trivial to avoid -- that opened into a small room where a single giant rat crouched on top of a small pile of mostly copper coins. It was...well, it was *cute,* as Dungeons go.
*I have not forgotten how, despite your professional proclivities for destroying Dungeons, you spared my life when I was small, and then stayed with me for a time to tutor me on being a more effective Dungeon, out of kindness.*
When I killed the giant rat, stones fell away from the wall, exposing the Dungeon Core, a big squishy heart/brain organ all Dungeons have. I was supposed to stab it, technically. But it was such a *tiny* thing, and it clearly didn't know what it was doing.
So I let it live, and gave it some pointers on being a dungeon. I even found an ogre, and bullied it into taking the dead rat's place as the Tomb of Midnight's 'final boss', as we call them in the trade. I felt kind of bad, though.
See, I *hadn't* done it out of kindness, not exactly. I thought it was a cute little catacomb, and all, but it was really more like when you throw back a small fish, so it can grow into a big fish for you to catch later. I just never quite made it back to that particular pond.
*I'm forever grateful for your forebearance and instruction. Your time with me taught me something important about myself: I like people. I find them interesting, and enjoy collaborating and cohabiting with them far more than I could ever enjoy dropping them into spike pits, or dunking them in pools of acid.*
That was certainly unexpected! I mean, he was cordial when I stayed with him, but I assumed he just knew I could kill him easily. But what I read next, that *truly* astounded me.
*Therefore, in celebration of my grand opening, I would like to invite you to enjoy an all-inclusive holiday with me, the region's premiere social hub and vacation destination!*
*Sincerely,*
*The Grand Midnight Luxury Resort Hotel & Casino* | “How did you get into my chamber?” Lord Versivus asked.
I smiled, “This isn’t my first visit to this dungeon.”
He sneered, “You stand no chance against me.”
I blinked, “Oh… you think that I want to fight? No, I want to make a deal.”
He raised an eyebrow, “And what deal could you possibly offer?”
“It’s more of what you can offer, Lord Versivus. I want this dungeon.”
“Ha! Surely you jest.”
“Nope, no jesting. I don’t things have been going very well for you here. Your minions are getting lost in the shifting chambers, which, if you must know, was my idea. You see the dungeon was upset that they couldn’t have pit traps and things because they had a foundation underneath, I suggested it would be perfect to improve on the foundation by allowing the chambers to move, and here we are!”
“They?”
“Yeah, the dungeon.”
“You speak as if the dungeon has its own agency,”
“They do, and they don’t like you being here very much.”
“Preposterous!”
“No, quite posterous actually. The reason you’ve been having so much trouble with construction is because the dungeon does not want you here.”
“The dungeon will come to heel soon enough.”
“Will that resource investment be worth it? And no, you may eventually install what you want in this dungeon, but they will never accept you.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you don’t care for them for who they are, but for what you want them to be, that’s not a relationship.”
“I never said it was.”
“Well, that’s what it is, an understanding. You aren’t listening to them and that’s making them rather upset.”
“And you’d be any different.”
“Yes, we’re close, the dungeon and I. I bet you don’t even know their favorite chamber.”
“Imbecile! You speak idiocy!”
“Maybe, but like I said, this endeavor is more trouble than its worth.”
Just then one of the Lord’s henchmen rushed into the room, “Lord, we’ll have to delay construction again.”
The Lord winced, “What is it now?”
The henchman gulped, “Most of your men got stuck in an antigravity trap and we don’t know how to get them down, while others are hallucinating on toxic fumes.”
The Lord rubbed his temples, “Goddamn idiots…” He turned tiredly to me, “Fine, what do you want for it?”
I smiled. Oh dungeon old friend, it’s good to have you back at last. | 2022-05-04T14:32:34 | 2022-05-04T12:53:13 | 204 | 74 |
[WP] No one was surprised by the villain's typical 'Join me and we can rule the world!' offer. Everyone was surprised at the hero's response. | Villain: "Join me and we can rule the world!"
Hero: "What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I’m the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo" | "I would love to," Robo-Woman replied. Dr. Devious was stunned. It was this easy? After all this time? "You see, ever since my conversion, these pitiful humans have been a thorn in my side. They do not understand anything. If only I could show them what I have seen. I will convert them into superior beings, so that they will truly be free." Dr. Devious started to smile as Robo-Woman extended an arm towards him. Finally, he would unlock her secrets and use them for himself. Suddenly, he felt a prick. As he looked down, he noticed the needle poking out from Robo-Woman's gloved hand. Dr. Devious drifted off as he heard Robo-Woman say "Of course, you will be the first." | 2017-02-13T04:34:45 | 2017-02-13T00:01:29 | 28 | 20 |
[WP] You are the city's premier supervillain, but you have a secret. The crimes you commit are not for gain, or to hurt people. You are always subtly testing and pushing 'your' heroes to excel, to be the best they can be. Then a villain with a reputation for murdering heroes shows up in town. | I was a joke, I knew it, the city knew it, the heroes knew it. Sure they had to adapt to whatever my latest superweapon was and overcome, becoming stronger, pushing the limits of their powers but they always overcame my latest scheme, I never got anywhere in the grand scheme of things. So, I was a joke, but the joke was on them. They thought I was a failure because I never succeeded in getting the money, the girl, the power, or control. I thought I was a failure because they never understood that I was training them.
It was my biggest frustration honestly. I could never get a single one of these heroes to look beyond their preconceived notions of good and evil and realize that what they thought were bumbling attempts to be villainous really prepared them for true threats. They never saw the bigger picture. So when the Void Menace, a serial hero-killer came to town I wasn't too worried. I sat back on my couch with some pretzels and a helping of hummus and watched the fight unfold via the innumerable surveillance drones that I had around town to record training footage.
Void Menace started by using his Absolute Zero move to ice the ground under our local speedster's feet. Classic move to deal with a super-fast opponent, nice opening but weak. Blue Shift merely vibrated at a rate that allowed her foot to phase about a quarter of a centimeter below the ice and into the ground, allowing her to retain perfect traction. I smirked, she'd learned that one when I attacked with my Blizzard Bombs last July. The resounding punch from the speedster rocked the villain sending him reeling.
Lady Crimson a dark-haired Amazonian was the next target of the Menace. Tendrils of pure darkness snaked out from every shadow and bound the heroine, wrapping and knotting around her limbs and body. Most heroes would try to break free with brute strength, and LC had plenty to spare but some bonds couldn't be broken by strength alone. After encountering my nano-reinforced, self-repairing plotinium chains a year ago though Lady Crimson, in reality, a lovely woman with two adorable kids, had learned to escape from bonds better than Harry Houdini himself. Menace roared in rage when she seemed to magically slide free.
Titanomax, the super-strong, invincible, flying member of the local supers took that moment to attack. Flinging shadows at the bruiser, the Menace temporarily blinded him, just like I had in 96 during the "Great Blackout." The hero's super hearing however allowed him to compensate. I did raise an eyebrow when the villain followed the attack by creating a void pocket and allowing the resulting pop to create a deafening sonic boom. Guess he's dealt with superheroes with enhanced hearing before! I laughed though as his eyes widened in surprise as Titanomax slugged him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of even that super-powered monster.
As Void Menace bounced across the concrete, cracking the ground with every impact I winced, then laughed as Titanomax gave a knowing nod to Electrix, the group's gadgeteer. I knew Titanomax wore sound discriminating earplugs ever since Electrix had captured the tech from me when he teamed up with the Silver Banshee to take me down during the Peanut Butter Heist of 07. In fact, I was pretty sure the whole team had them now, since they also served as GPS, com-link, and tracking devices that used quantum entanglement to be unhackable and unobservable.
I looked down at the empty bowl of pretzels. That was a mistake because when I looked up Electrix had a smoking rifle held up and a smug look on his face. I cursed and focused on Menace. I didn't see any wounds even as the brute stood slowly, coughing a little blood from Titanomax's last hit but still standing. He seemed to be considering his situation and I could tell his next move. He snapped his fingers. I'm sure he meant to use Void Stride, his ultimate teleport that could span light-years, but nothing happened. I put two and two together rather quickly.
Electrix had "captured" some anti-teleport tech from me a few years back. They thought I was teleporting into the bank vaults and then using the tech to stop any heroes from teleporting in while I robbed the bank. It took them a few tries to catch me and by then I had coated the inside of the bank vaults of more than half the city with my anti-teleportation tech. Actually how they caught me was a pretty good move on their part, you see... You know what, story for another time. Long story short Electrix had adapted it to be used on teleporting villains as those slippery buggers were some of the hardest to pin down.
I stood up and walked away from the screen at that point. I wanted a glass of water, the pretzels had made me so thirsty, and to be honest it was just wrap up by now. They'd throw him in the super-max jail. In most cities, I'd be worried about him getting out in under a week but I'd broken out of that place 138 times out of the 139 times I'd been arrested. Each time they improved security, closing the vulnerability I exposed to escape. The last time, well the last time I didn't escape. I was all set to retire to life in prison, safe in the knowledge my city and my heroes were as protected as I could make them, but one of the heroes had surprised me.
Titanomax, crusader of truth and justice just, let me go. I didn't ask why, maybe he felt sorry for me. I did see pity in his eyes when he did, and shame. I had hoped he understood I had never been out to do evil, but I'm not sure he did. I think he thought I was just some sad old villain who was past his prime and not able to keep up with the heroes of today. It made me sad to realize that they didn't even see how much stronger they had gotten. A lesser man would have worried they had gotten too strong, turned to villainy themselves. But all six hundred heroes I had raised over the last fifty years turning evil at once? Not likely. I sat on my couch with a cup of tea and looked up at my wall covered in news clippings and magazine articles of their many victories and triumphs and smiled. If one of them broke in now and saw the tribute they would likely think I was plotting revenge, but nothing could be further from the truth.
*EDIT: Thanks for the awards and upvotes! I'm very happy to see so many people enjoyed it! | I have always had powers, a part of me I kept hidden, never knowing how to use them, afraid of the responsibility that came with them. My friend died when I was twenty-five, it turned out he wasn't afraid of responsibility, he had been doing something. A real life hero. I felt so much shame, I had watched the footage and the worst thing was, there was a way out, he didn't have to die. So I decided I would help, in my own wayz my power doesn't make me very good at saving people, but it does have certain advantages. I can walk through walls and lets things pass right through me, and I can take with me anything I'm touching. I had been such a coward with it when I was younger, I used to be afraid I would fall through the earth until I realised it couldn't go through floors. So, I turned into a regular Robin Hood, stealing from the rich, giving to the poor, and putting the heroes through their paces, occasionally giving them "begrudging" help when they need it. This world needs heroes, it needs people you can look up to. Since then, no heroes have died in my city, I don't take all the credit but I'm just happy that I'm finally making a difference. Well, I was until he showed up.
The hero killer, the man who had "cleansed" the next city over of all its heroes. The newspapers have taken to calling him "Cape Collector". And tonight, I will meet him and finally out a stop to him, luckily I have bugged the costumes of just about every hero in this city so finding him shouldn't be the problem... Winning, may prove to be one.
I waited nervously in the room beside while they got the witty banter out of the way. I tried to control my breathing but sweat was building at the brow. Neither knew I was there yet, and I was trying to keep it that way. They had met in a lab, presumably where the hero worked given how much time he spent here according to the trackers. The room was steel and clinical, glassware broke up the monotony in controlled bursts of uniformity as they were tucked away on shelves. I walked back over to beside the metal shelving that was locked up tightly and peeked my head through the wall until I could see through to the other side. The Cape Collector was a large man, muscles bulged ferociously, his body shook as he talked and the ground trembled as if in fair. A dark black vest clung to his muscular body, as if the dark material was trying to contain something even worse. He was bald and a dark beard sprang wildly from his face. The hero on the other hand looked very composed. My heart skipped a beat, I now recognized her to be Val-Lore. A large, brown cloak obscured her body, the edges trimmed with a dark green and her Valkeryi crest was emblazoned on it in a beautiful light gold colour. Her bright blue eyes shone through her face mask unwavering even in the face of this mighty brute. I also saw her legs were shaking.
For years now, I had fought against her, "losing", time and again, and every time enjoying the witty banter. She was nice and after the occasional team up missions we had talked a lot.
Tonight courage had abandoned me, he was terrifying, there was still blood on his hands, the blood of people who were stronger and better than me. I promised myself that tonight, if we won. I would come clean, tell her everything and ask her to marry me. I needed something to get me through this.
Finally the Cape Collector started making his way towards and I got into position. I could hear his steps, the metal groaning underneath his weight as he walked along the platform. I imagined Val-Lore facing him down as he came towards her, ready to fight to the death as she had countless times before. I imagined her fighting him, tearing chunks out of him as he squeezed the air from her body until blood seeped out along with it and then him throwing her over the side. I imagined the man I wanted to be.
I ran forward and hit into the metal press with all my force, luckily it was very top heavy and while I had a grip of it, I went permeable along with the press, it fell through the other side hitting into him and knocking him off balance as I released my power, I quickly jumped down. A swinging hand came towards me as I landed giving off steam, however honed instincts and terror reactivated my power mid flight and it flew straight through my. I willed myself solid again and grabbed onto his hand that had just gone by me and let myself be carried by his momentum until I reached the edge of the railings. I linked my legs around it and used it along with him being thrown of balance to try and pull him over the side. I saw him reach for the banister and knew what I had to do. I went permeable.
I figured the fall wouldn't kill him, but, he wouldn't exactly be okay after a steel press fell on him, and then falling four stories. Valk-Lore will beat him. And hey, maybe a girl will finally cry over for me at once! Who am I kidding, at the very least, I can finally say I led a good life, and I will finally meet my friend again. That was all I had time for as I fell to my death.
The Cape Collector clearly had very different thoughts going through his head, as steam started shooting out him which quickly condensed into a pool of water catching both of us before we fall, although still knocking the air out of my lungs. It looked like my job wasn't quite over yet.
~The End~
And and all feed back is appreciated :) | 2021-05-20T07:25:02 | 2021-05-20T06:34:48 | 795 | 81 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | The sigil remained dull, black and inactive. Even through the shoving, the pushing, the punching and name calling - it didn’t light up even once. Maybe it wasn’t the best to get used to this type of treatment, but Dalton refused to use his powers on anyone. While his powers were not inherently destructive, they were hard to control, and he didn’t want to hurt anyone.
So why wouldn’t they listen?
Was it so bad that he didn’t want to show off the powers he barely knew how to use, that he didn’t want to hurt anyone as collateral in a bit of show and tell? His head throbbed from the previous punch, the group of teenagers surrounding him in a complete circle. Everywhere his eyes looked, they landed on some color, some blur, something emanating from each and every one of the bullies. Fire, electricity, light and even darkness from one. They surrounded him, their powers all flared for show, but they didn’t really use them in any way besides intimidation. No, they preferred to hurt people themselves. This time though, there was something off about them. They were pushing harder than normal, harassing and assaulting with more... effort. Perhaps something had made them mad that day.
Another punch, and Dalton could practically feel the bruise growing, his ears ringing slightly. His chest constricted as they threw another, but this time, he felt a burn from where the punch had landed. He felt his muscles twitch from the shock, and it was starting to get a little darker, though, not because of them. He was losing consciousness. His breaths became panicked, and Dalton pleaded for them to stop, that they were going too far this time.
They didn’t listen. They never did. Before anyone could do anything else, the circle lit up, shining with a rainbow of different colors. In front of Dalton, a circle appeared, black and colorless. The bullies stared curiously, cautiously looking at it. The circle turned blue, as did Dalton’s sigil, and a geyser of sea water spewed from within the circle, easily carrying away one of the bullies, far into the distance. Dalton grasped his arm, where his sigil laid, glowing through his hand. The bullies backed off in fear, as more circles appeared around Dalton. They did not turn just blue, but green, yellow and red, a multitude of colors from which different elements spewed. A gust of wind from one, a plume of flames from another, a landslide of mud and even pure insects from some. The “battlefield” quickly became chaotic and messy, the bullies either running off or being quickly incapacitated by Dalton’s rings.
If one were to look close, they would notice that Dalton’s rings were not random circles that produced various things, but portals to different parts of the world. One linked to the sea floor, another in the middle of a raging wildfire, underneath a landslide, in the middle of a tornado: and they all came barreling through one small opening. A multitude of concentrated forces from mother nature herself, that would devastate anyone who challenged their wielder. Dalton’s sigil dulled, the glowing slowly fading away, and the portals slowly closing with them. This time, Dalton had managed to keep them small, keep them “mild” and relatively non-lethal... but would he be able to next time? He let himself fall over, ignoring the pain in his tailbone that came from sitting in such a manner. |
He has always been a very peaceful person which was often mistaken for being boring and uninteresting which lead to him getting left out. The only interaction he had with others in school was when his classmates would bully him with their outstanding powers. They were quite powerful and could possibly be used to kill others.
Gironimo had just transferred to this new school. Nero started to bully him because Gironimo seemed to be an easy target, seeing as his sigil only looked like a circle which indicated that he hadn’t formed an ability yet.
Nero possessed the ability to form deadly weapons from people’s iron, cutting up their insides and draining them of the ability to breathe properly because they couldn’t process the oxygen without iron in their blood. He knew, he could kill Gironimo but he never wanted to, seeing that he was sadistic but not a killer. Plus, he wanted to see what power Gironimo’s sigil could possibly have granted him, since it was just some circle.
Well, at least it looked like a circle if you didn’t pay attention. Everyone is born with a sigil but it has to develop and take shape over time. Gironimo’s sigil only modified ever so slightly to go from a circle to a zero. He even called his ability “Zero”, even though he himself didn’t know what it could do. The sigil’s abilities were always based on one’s personality, so it would not be surprising that a violent person like Nero had such a brutal ability while the selfless May who would do anything for others could heal others with the drawback of not being able to heal herself.
The day after Gironimo's transfer, Nero approached Gironimo. “Would you like to die?”, he said as if he just asked a normal question. “I mean, you can try”, he said confidently, even though he didn’t even know of Nero’s powers since he was always very careful with when he would use them. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Gironimo felt something cutting up the inside of his mouth and started to spew out razor blades along with alarming amounts of blood. He started to cry and shouted “Zero”. Immediately, the blood he coughed up went back into his mouth and the razor blades turned back into iron and re-entered his body. Meanwhile, Nero started to cough up razor blades and now he was the one crying and screaming. “You fucker”, Gironimo shouted. “Look what you’ve done. Look how badly I was bleeding. Why the fuuuuuucckkkk???”. He started kicking the still crying Nero and quickly left before the teachers could spot him. | 2020-02-26T07:49:39 | 2020-02-26T07:41:46 | 92 | 19 |
[WP] The most difficult part of being a Supervillian? Find love, not because other people won't like you, but because the stupid Superheros will swoop in and "rescue" your date every time, but this time you have a plan, and it's going to work. | *Any moment, now.*
I glanced to the windows and skylights that drenched me in sunlight, panels of crystalline glass so huge that a blind man could pick me out from the amongst the diners. On second thought, picking a location with so much fragility may not have been a stroke of genius.
"Are you okay, dear?" my darling Sophia asked, her voice sweeter than the tiramisu before us. Natural light scattered in her sapphire eyes, bouncing, like a set of mirrors in the ocean.
I wrinkled my upper lip, itching under a mustache, a wiry, rough thing, like strands of a broom. "Yes, yes. My mind is just... Preoccupied," I replied, glancing to my hands, hidden beneath the table, wincing.
She frowned, but turned back to her dessert. This was the sixth attempt now, and the first time we'd even made it past hors d'oeuvres. Of course, we spent most of our time together in private, but it isn't fair to keep hidden a woman commanding such beauty and presence. Imagine finding the most beautiful exotic bird, a magnificent beast exploding with color and grace, then stuffing it into a cardboard box to shove under a bed.
The fact that they still hadn't arrived was amusing, if nothing else. Wrinkling my lip again, the thought of it made me chuckle despite a sense of looming dread. There would only be one chance.
Thoughts shattered in my mind with the skylights, an ear-piercing crash that threatened everyone below with shards of glass like icicles raining from the sky. Of course, none of it hit us. *He* would never let it.
'Strike Team 6', they were called, a band of mercenary superheroes that have held sway over the city for years now. Each of them had militaristic might that threatened the greatest army.
"Do you not learn, Cobra?" one of them asked, approaching me. Their leader, the fabled King Crusher. He was a brute of a man, one that hardly looked like a superhero.
"Unfortunately, I have yet to learn how not to need food." Upon wrinkling my lip again, I noticed a distinct lack of the wiry itchiness. Cheap little thing.
"We're not here to monitor your dieting habits, jackass," he replied, taking a step forward. "You've moved against civilians in the past, what would you expect us to do when you suddenly put yourself in a building with eighty other innocent people? It doesn't matter how long you've been quiet for. One drop of that poison of yours could kill a whale in twenty seconds."
I glanced down, flushing slightly.
"Though," he continued, "I will admit that stupid mustache threw us off a little bit. But the ruse is over, now. Just come quietly with us. This doesn't need to be hard."
Squeezing my eyes shut, I took a deep breath, then straightened my back. "Crusher, if I may... could we please finish our meal? I've been with this woman for half a year, now, and it feels like this is our first real date. It's not completely ruined, yet."
The hulking man eyed her with the assessing judgment of a general. There would be nothing for him, though. She was an average woman in only one way: mutations. Sophia was a normal person without power or ability.
"Why would I trust you?"
"Well, for starters, you've done more damage here than I have." He raised an eyebrow at my comment.
I took another deep breath and raised my hands in front of me, earning a few shouts from the crowd and tensing amidst ST6. Flinching, hissing, I slowly and crudely peeled off the crimson gloves on them.
*Sorry, Sophia. I know you didn't want this, but there's no other way.*
A few groans sounded through the crowd, and even Steelheart gasped a little. Underneath the medicated gloves, effectively just bandages that looked nice, my hands were mangled. Swollen, matted, shiny and marked with the black, dashed lines of sutures, where there had once been venom sacs, there was now only pus and pain. The mutation had been deeply embedded in my wrists, entwined with my nerves and ligaments, and... difficult to cut out, like trying to unroot a great oak tree, even with a healing mutant aiding me. Repair would take weeks of repeat sessions, the damage was so bad. Painkillers kept it manageable enough not to cry.
Crusher stared at them, contorting his face with disgust. "Why?" he asked quietly, eyes locked on the mangled flesh.
"She's worth it," I replied, turning back. Sophia had a delicate hand over her mouth, poorly containing violent sobs. "I would give up anything for her, Crusher. Even my identity."
*/r/resonatingfury* | This is it! The Plan Bs to end all Plan Bs! This was absolutely fool-proof! I've tried concocting love potions; I've tried psychology tricks; I've tried going on blind dates with horrible people, even more horrible than I am; but all of those attempts were trashed! The common denominator? That little cocky brat coming in to save the princess like a valiant knight in rose-colored armor! She had foiled my attempts for a while now, but this time, I'm sure, shall be the last! I have watched her from the shadows, carefully putting the pieces, assimilating her behavior and preferences! Call it stalking if you will, but I refuse to play the part of a hopeless romantic any longer!
She is the blandest main character with a love for learning at day; magical girl by night. At least, that's what the data told me. Through my eyes, she was a kind yet nosy lady, and the frequent target of this nosiness is no other than me, a simple genius hacker whom she considers her equal, her rival! So I tried to adapt to her methods and analyzed her pattern. Home, school, library, home, superhero business.
Using this information, I acted accordingly. I began by applying as student librarian and developed a "close friendship" with her over time. I discovered she liked the same books I liked, and sometimes we swapped book recommendations. Sometimes she'd even talk about "that one hacker boy \[she\] knows that was kinda cute but has some questionable morals" and the misadventures that followed, not knowing she was making a fool out of herself. We also shared snacks and held hands, you know, the typical friendship stuff. So typical, I almost forgot she were my enemy.
But enough of that nonsense! No one wants to know the story of how we ended up crushing on each other.
I did the most sensible thing I could think of at the time. I asked her out on a date using my Librarian Alternate Identity, Lai for short. But whoopsie-doopsie! Looks like the hacker she loathes so much kidnapped him, and now it's up to the heroine to rescue her beloved!
And it begins now, as I hide myself in a closet. My phone was connected to the cameras with microphones so I had no trouble watching this unfold.
Today, as usual, she entered the library she frequented, but not as her civilian identity. She found the library barren. And most importantly...
Her favorite student librarian wasn't there.
"Curse that hacker!" I heard her say as she slammed her fist on a nearby shelf. "'The tables will turn, I will ruin YOUR date'? That's so creepy! How did he even find out about the boy I like? This is so frustrating!"
She goes straight to the empty counter, and there aren't any of his belongings either. All that's left was a book, and as soon as she touched it, the alarms went off.
This was my cue. I kicked open the door and ran to the counter, bringing with me the take-out snacks I ordered. I placed them on the counter and pushed the secret button on the book to turn the alarms off.
It was her turn now. She crossed her arms and ranted loudly: "What's the meaning of this? Where's Lai?!"
I smiled. I brushed my hair up and put on some glasses. "Here you go."
The look on her face was priceless.
​
//Second comment on this subreddit! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing! ~~Sorry they don't have names hahaha.~~ The girl is named Tele, and the boy is named "Lai" (real name unknown for now) Might make this a rom-com series if I have the time.
EDIT: [here's a sketch of Lai and Tele that I thought you might enjoy.](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/423083600053927938/549088955908358154/Lai_and_Tele_rWritingPrompts.png) | 2022-11-30T23:13:37 | 2019-02-23T07:17:19 | 1,144 | 43 |
[WP] The really annoying thing about being a vampire is not the inability to see your reflection, but rather the fact you aren't detected by automatic doors, soap dispensers, or the paper towel dispenser. | "Aww! He's so cute! Can I pet him?!"
*No, mortal, you may not. No, mortal, you are not entitled to my time nor that of my ghoul. No, mortal, do not raise my ire or you will find yourself my lunch.*
I thought of saying all of these things, as I always do. But in the end I remembered that anonymity is more precious than smug self-importance. "No, I'm sorry" I replied sweetly, "this is my service dog, I really can't let him get distracted." The mortal looked intensely disappointed, angry even. I decided not to fan the flames. "Come, Igor, we have business to attend to." The tiny ball of fluff padded jauntily over to the sliding door, opening the way for me and barking in a satisfied soprano. "Who calls a cute little pupper like that 'Igor', anyway," my preternaturally-acute senses detected the mortal grumbling as she walked away.
Grocery shopping was an affectation of the mortal world that I never quite freed myself from. I never ate any of the food I purchased, of course, but it wouldn't do to come to the same supermarket every month just to buy cleaning supplies. I went through a *lot* of bleach. So it was more of an irritation than an insult when a fat mortal bumped into me and sent the jar of fra Diavolo sauce I'd been contemplating hurtling to the ground. It covered both of us in sticky red stains, but of course, I was used to that.
"Aw, geez, I'm sorry!" the oaf bumbled. "Watch out for your dog there, aw, geez, he's all covered in it." He was. We'd have to get cleaned up before we carried on. "Go on and take care of him, I don't want 'em to step in any of this glass," the cretin blurted magnanimously. He didn't have to tell me twice. "Come, Igor! We have business elsewhere," I instructed, tugging at his red leash to pull him away from the puddle of sauce he'd begun fastidiously licking up. *You'll be sick later, you foolish beast,* I thought affectionately.
Bathrooms were always awkward. I stood back as far as I could from the edge of the mirror, dipping Igor into the sink as he thrashed uncooperatively. "You fool!" I shouted, throwing magical command into my next words. "Be still and cooperate, by the blood that binds us!" He went slack, like a puppy being carried in its mother's jaws. Which was just as well, since I had to dangle him in front of the "automatic" soap dispenser several times to get enough of a lather to pull the sauce out of his silky fur. Back and forth we went like that, until he was clean (except of course for the red patch around his mouth, which I found rather endearing anyway.) We were just about to leave when the same precocious mortal from the entrance walked out of a stall, looking horrified.
"What are you looking at?!" I snarled, propping Igor up under the towel dispenser. "You know nothing of my curse." | 00:00 [PICTURE OF NO-FUNCTIONING WASHROOM-APPARATUS AND WOMAN WITH NO REFLECTION BUT LIPSTICK ON COMICAL FACE-PLACE]
"Are you sick of asking strange meatbags to enable soap and paper towel dispenser for you? Are you tired of guessing on how to put on your makeup? Well you don't have to be..."
00:30 [V.JOHNSON IN SUIT WALKING THROUGH OFFICE WITH BUSY VAMPIRES ON PHONES]
"Hi, my name is Flarn Von Johnson and here at FangsMatters we work all day, every day, for all vampires to have a bearable everyday life! I myself is a proud third generation vampire and I'm feel that the least everyday thing we all want are dry hands. "
"When my grandmother came to this country from the old lands 100000 years ago,..."
01:30 [CUT TO PICTURE OF OLD ASS VAMPIRE BITCH HERE]
"... well, it wasn't easy let me tell you that! But did she expect her grandson to be forced to dry hands off his pants after a meal? Then she maybe wouldn't have crossed the waters!"
02:15 [CUT BACK TO V.JOHNSON TEARING UP]
"But today we here at FangsMatters have a solution. It is our pleasure to present to you the MeatPatch© (patent pending)! "
02:45 [INFO FILM OF MEATPATCH]
"The MeatPatch© is so easy you will slap yourself you didn't think of it. Just attach it to the limb you want recognized as meatbag-meat and voilá, magic! No more lipstick in your eye or wet hands. It's pure organic, harvested from close-by youth and has close to no enviromental impact. Just throw it biological waste when it done. Or maybe give it to you dog? Haha! "
03:45 [ORDER NUMBER AND PRICE SCROLLING ON LOWER PART OF SCREEN]
"Right now an offer just for you viewers, 10 patches and a MeatLipstick will come with your order, free of charge! Just call the number on the screen right now! My grandmother would have wanted you to, because..."
04:00 [ALL OFFICE VAMPIRES DROPS PHONE AND CALL IN UNISON]
"FANGS MATTER!"
[CUT SCENE] | 2016-11-11T06:43:29 | 2016-11-11T04:53:29 | 204 | 99 |
[WP] You are a minor supervillain. Your antics aren't illegal, but they're quite devastating to the local hero population. You replace the flimsy fruit stands that are frequently destroyed in car chases throughout the city with nearly indestructible replicas. | "Hello, this is Hero Insurance. How can I help you."
"Quick, you have to help me. They're getting closer! That one guy is firing frickin' laser beams."
"Alright ma'am, stay calm. We'll get through this. Please state the serial number. It's in the middle of the cart."
"Just a sec. Where is it! Oh, here, under the T-shirts. Err. It's 13 A 7 K 5301."
"Thank you ma'am," I said as I typed in the data quickly. "Elise Cartwright, clothing vendor, gold member. Hold on one second Elise."
I teleported to the warehouse to have a quick look. I arrived on the second floor, isle 13. These were the market stalls. Ah, A7, generic clothing market stall. Perfect.
"Elise, stand back at least three feet." I said urgently in my headset. "I'm almost there."
"Okay, but hurry. They just smashed into a building across the market!!"
I blocked out the customer for a moment. This needed concentration. With my hand on the cart, I searched for the right location. There was a sympathetic resonation in the aether between the market stalls, but it was still tricky. After two seconds I found it and I activated my power. Elise's stall teleported to the warehouse, while my replacement stall took it's place in the market.
Elise looked relieved as I teleported in together with the replacement stall. Just a second later, the so called hero's laser beams hit the stall. Typically they never look at what they hit if they miss the villains. But this time the beam reflected back, hitting the hero right in the private parts. Those clothes on my cart were actually flimsy dressing over highly reflective alloy.
The villainess capitalized on this and launched a superspeed attack. The hero collapsed right on time from the pain of his self inflicted burning of the family jewels, so she missed and slammed right into my stall. That stall was of course reinforced high grade steal beams weighted down with liberal amounts of high density concrete.
She was out for the count. That took care of the fighting. The other market vendors cheered loudly and the police arrived.
It took some time before I could teleport home with the decoy stall, but it was a good day. I earned plenty of tips and even had a few new customers for Hero Insurance. | "So? Whaddya say?"
The fruit stand owner stared suspiciously at my truck with arms crossed. I could tell he wasn't buying it.
"I don't know... sounds like a scam to me."
"I promise you, good sir, it is not!"
He sighed in disbelief, glancing back and forth between me and my truck.
"Alright, let me get this straight. You're going to take this stand, *this shitty stand,* and replace it with another stand that looks *exactly like it.*"
"That is correct. Complete with security surveillance, anti-theft features, and a titanium steel alloy skeleton."
"Right... And this is going to cost me...?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," I said with a smile.
I handed him a clipboard with a single sheet of paper on it detailing everything about the upgrade, and after a few minutes of head scratching and sighing, he finally gave me a nod of approval.
"Well, alright. I don't really understand, but this agreement looks pretty ironclad to me..."
"Perfect! All I need is your signature right... *there,* and I'll have my guys come over and replace it by tomorrow morning! Sound good?"
He laughed and extended his hand.
"Yea, sounds good. Pleasure doing business with you, I guess."
I accepted his hand and shook it firmly and sincerely, smiling.
"Trust me. The pleasure is *all mine.*" | 2020-01-14T00:05:59 | 2020-01-13T23:50:49 | 206 | 95 |
[WP] A young, mentally distraught high school student, weapon in tow, decides to shoot up his school before taking his own life. Just before the moment of truth, another student in his class opens fire on his class mates. What does he do next? | There was always going to come a time that I’d simply had enough.
The worst part wasn’t the bullying. That, I could handle. I had 3 older brothers, so I was used to it being a bit rough. It’s the blatant ignoring that I couldn’t stand.
When I asked to sit at a table at lunch, I got completely blanked. When it was time to pair up for a project, I was always the last man left. And just forget prom, or anything along those lines. Girls treated me with the same ignorance as the guys. I once heard someone say the opposite of love isn’t hate; it’s indifference. Sounds legit to me.
So I decided I would do something to make them notice me.
I’ve got the gun tucked away in my school bag. Between a science textbook and my lunch. I feel like that’s kind of funny, and I smile. My mother notices. She’s been worried about me, and I bet she thinks I’ve met a girl I like.
On the bus, I’m pretty nervous. I wonder if this is normal? I can’t exactly ask anyone. Maybe, if I change my mind at the last minute and decide not to take my own life, there’ll be support groups I can join.
I’ve decided that the best time to do this is during the afternoon assembly, when all the students gather in the auditorium to hear announcements and whatever. Most bang for my buck that way. But it does mean I need to keep the gun concealed until then. This amuses me more, like I have a special secret.
I spend my lunch in the library. The lady who works there, Donna, has never been outright mean to me, but I think she thinks I’m weird. I’m pretty sure she isn’t allowed to actually say anything though. So this is where I always eat lunch. No one to judge me here.
It’s getting closer to the end of the school year, which means exams are coming up, so there’s more people here studying than normal. There’s Jack in the corner. I’m not really convinced he knows how to read, but his beautiful girlfriend, Jenny, is sitting with him. I guess she’s reading to him.
At another desk, there’s Anna, shy and quiet with huge glasses. She reminds me of an owl. I didn’t think she’d ever need to study.
Must be about 18 people in here today. About 15 more than normal. I scan them all, and again I’m amused. They don’t know what’s coming. What would they do if they did know?
I stand up to get ready to go to my next class. Just one more to go before the deed. At exactly the same time, I see Adrian Denny stand up from his desk. Another loner, Adrian does more to separate himself than anyone I know. He’s gone for a bit of a goth look, and he’s the only kid I know in our school with a tattoo. We lock eyes for a moment. He starts to slowly reach into his bag, and it’s like everything is in slow motion. Somehow, I know what’s coming. I see a glint of metal as he pulls his hand out, and I yell ‘GET DOWN!!’
Some are quicker to react than others. Anna quickly dives under a desk, and I see Jack trying to pull Jenny behind the librarian’s desk. She isn’t fast enough, and the first shot rings out, making its way right into Jenny’s perfectly tanned leg.
The screams start then, and I can see there’s a divide between people who are trying to exit the library, and those just trying to hide. The people trying to get away get the next tirade of bullets. Becky and Mason go down straight away, their wails adding to the cacophony. Alex gets grazed by a bullet, but carries on, getting out of the room and sounding the alarm in the hallways.
‘DENNY’S GOT A GUN!’
More screams. Everything still seems to be in slow motion for me. Adrian’s gone after one of the students, almost chasing him around the racks of books. I know what to do in that moment.
I grab a chair, and wait for him. I’m at the edge of a set of shelves, and I can hear him rasping as he chases Tom. Tom skids around the corner, and I give him a nod, and hit Adrian with the chair, with all of my strength. I watch him drop to the floor, holding his nose, which is now streaming with blood. While he’s busy with that, I get my gun from my bag. I see Anna looking on, her face a mask of horror, and I sit atop Adrian’s chest and pin down his arms.
‘It was supposed to be me,’ I say. I put the gun to his head, and pull the trigger once. | Sweat trickled down Jason's pale face. He had already thrown up his breakfast but he felt like he was about to do it again. He was shaking like he had PTSD and every damn noise made him twitch. He was laid on his bare mattress, staring up at the damp, mildew covered ceiling. He felt the coldness of the five-seven, tucked carefully into his waistband. It felt like it was burning him. He sat up, glancing around his room, staring hard at the dartboard he had nailed to his door. It had all the pictures of the people that would die today, not enough holes in them though; Jason wasn't that good at darts. He stood up and stumbled, dizzy. Jason gripped the handrail, and practically fell down the stairs as the bus pulled up outside of his house. Taking his usual place in the gum stained seat at the front, Jason put in his headphones and slept his journey to school.
Stepping along the cracked pavement, Jason hobbled into school, drawing many a dirty look. He was not well liked here. Willowvalley Academy; a shit hole for problem children. His parents had sent him over hear after Jason had 'responded' to the bullying he was receiving at his last school. However, his 'response' was so extreme, that his teachers suggested he should be removed from the conventional school system. Jason was still sore about his expulsion, I mean, he'd only set ONE dog on fire when they found him in his shed.
Jason took his seat on class. Second row from the back, he had planned it this way, not right at the back where he may cause suspicion, but far enough away from his teacher, that he wouldn't notice the huge bulge on Jason's waist.
As his equally troubled class-mates filed through the door, Jason ran over one more time how this would go down. First he announces his plan to his class. He then strolls over to the teacher, placing the gun to his temple and blowing the decrepit old man's brains all over Lucy. Jason would feel like a god; taking his teachers keys and locking the door. Finally he would execute every psychotic bully in this class before moving on to the rest of the school just for fun.
Mr.Brown was just about to take the register, when Jason stood up. An intense pressure building in his chest, was he gonna throw up again? Not now. This was his moment to be remembered. His class mates laughed and snickered at him.
"Jason!" His teacher cawed. "What are you doing!"
Jason inhaled deeply "Ladies and fuckheads, I am here today, to bring justice on this school"
Several crazy looks from the students. Lucy screamed as she saw the butt of the gun sticking out of his trousers. Shit. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He ripped the gun from his trousers and fired it twice into the ceiling, chunks of plaster and brick fell to the ground around him. Now everyone was screaming, the gunshots echoing off of every surface. Mr.Brown dived to the ground screeching at the kids to get down.
Jason tried to continue his speech. "You people have made my time at this school, hell!"
Another gunshot rang out, but Jason hadn't fired. He dropped to his knees. A pool of blood beginning to surround him. The blood mixed in with the dust on the ground, and Jason ran his fingers through it; trying to scoop it back into the gaping hole in his chest. Fuck did shotgun shells hurt.
Jason tried to whisper out the rest of his speech, more screams and gunshots ringing out around him. His blood pooled out around him, he turned onto his back to stare his killer in the face.
They were masked. But Jason recognized the voice. Jack. His best friend, his only friend at this school. Jason turned onto his stomach as a single tear trickled down his face.
(Feel free to point out mistakes or improvements, I'm new at this. Also if something is unclear just ask.) | 2015-05-03T05:53:22 | 2015-05-03T04:35:37 | 37 | 18 |
[WP] A new rule on Earth is made which allows everyone to legally kill 1 person in their life, this affects the world severely & changes how everybody acts. | **DISCLAIMER: First time commenting, so I hope I have done this properly.**
"So, have you used yours yet?"
It was the question that was on everyone's minds since the Law was introduced. Death and murder had left the realms of impolite conversation, ushering in a new type of small-talk that was, in essence, macabre. You could sit in even the quietest of restaurants and hear the Question over a dozen times through your meal. My record was 23 times in, perhaps, twice as many minutes. An impressive amount, I thought, but nothing to brag about.
Of course, no one really bragged about anything anymore. Everyone was too scared, too worried that their swagger would provoke others to use the Law. The same had happened with almost all conversation, really. Everyone was polite, everyone was nice, and, most of all, everyone was quiet. It was a remarkable transformation from the busy, bustling society I had known all my life; in just a few months, the Law had created a world walking on egg-shells.
Except for the Question. No one shied away from it, no one blanched at it. Some even asked it with an excited grin, full of glee at the prospect of finding out someone's Silence. Some still saw any answer other than 'No' as an excuse to return to old habits, though many found themselves Silenced soon enough.
The first months of the Law had been complete and utter chaos. Old rivalries, feuds and petty squabbles were settled with a Silence, and the world was overcome with an unbounded paranoia. Homelessness was all but eradicated as Silences were used to 'clean the streets'. The gay community was near wiped out by the end of the second month. The entire world was caught in the cold, vice-like grip of fear.
Not even world leaders were above the Law's reach, and by the end of the first month we were looking at a completely new global political stage. By the second month we were looking at an even newer one. Constant change became the norm as the old order was Silenced by the new, and the new Silenced by the newer.
Even in the politeness and the cautiousness that followed, that chaos persists. The wealthy, for all their pomp and bought security, are Silenced almost daily, while the poor are Silenced for the simple fact of their existence. It is the elderly, surprisingly, who use their Silence the most, Silencing people almost arbitrarily so as not to waste the opportunity granted by the Law. Just the other day, in fact, I witnessed an old woman, clad in a thick tweed overcoat with an even thicker tartan scarf wrapped around her gaunt throat, Silence a man on the bus for refusing to give up his seat. He was disabled.
The newspapers are all saying the same thing now; the Law is growing out of control. People are seeing through the niceties of polite society that the Law had created, and using their Silence simply because they can. Chaos is coming back, and with it the deaths will rise.
If you are reading this, I have been Silenced. I have known it would come eventually. A stranger, a friend, a lover, an old woman on the bus. The Law has made killers of us all, and I can only hope that, in reading this, you see the Law as only a distant memory.
And if not, if the Law still exists, if Silence still rules the world, I ask you; have you used yours yet? | The law says everyone gets to kill one person in their life without needing to facing any punishment. It seemed to have minimal impact at first. After all, murders happened all the time, and many murderers are not caught. This new law essentially only affirms an existing fact.
Until I read the papers the next day:
*Billionaire family slaughtered in luxurious mansion*
Apparently some nutjobs decided it would be just to murder the rich people. And since the law says everybody gets to kill one person, they decided it would be a good idea to band together to kill an entire family.
No one was punished, it's what the law says.
The following week, rich families were murdered each day. They were all gone by Saturday. Some were strangled, some brutally stabbed, the most elaborate one involved each member from the family burned by a different killer on a stake. And then the problems really hit us.
With those poor bastards gone, no one dared to take their place. Everyone was terrified at what would happen if any of them had their names associated with a large corporation. Instead of a sight to be envied, being a famous is now something to be avoided, lest you become a target yourself.
Soon, big corporations dissolved as none wanted to take charge of management. Independent producers took over the market for a while, until people started getting killed off for marking their price too low, or giving too many benefits to their clients, or having a product too similar to the next store. Those went away as well when people decided they will just ask for free stuff together. They had to abide, the law is on the killers’ side.
People stopped interacting with one another for fear of offending the wrong person. No one would dare open their mouths to greet their next door neighbour. There were some attempts at connecting with other people, with subtle nods and shallow eye contacts. Most people would only talk to their spouse and children, those are the people you can trust.
However, with the economy in shambles, even food is a struggle. We hardly know who is running the government, the last President was assassinated two days after the law passed, and no one took his place as far as we know.
Several of my older neighbours stopped coming out to their front yard as the weather got colder. We tried to grow some crops, but that didn't go anywhere…
I'm starving as I write this, I've gone on days without food, barely any water… Yet I'm trying to sharpen my knife. The Smiths next door seem well off enough, and our family still have our quota | 2017-12-03T07:22:49 | 2017-12-03T06:50:17 | 7,256 | 146 |
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you're ready to go. Jokingly you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. So now every year he comes back and asks again. You're in too deep, you're getting too old, But you can't stop. | Fast. I'm moving too fast. The world around me is hazy, it feels like I'm seeing the world in a mirror, but there's water pouring down it, making the images soft and distorted. Heart pounding I throw my head back and laugh, everything's electric. I run my fingers along the leather of the driver's seat, and look over to catch her staring. Giggling, I bury my face in my hands, the sensation of my breath on my arm raising goosebumps.
"Everything just feels so... delicious."
"I can't wait to be where you are babe" he laughs, and I can't tear my eyes away from his teeth. Those canines are wicked sharp, and I begin to wonder what it would be like for him to bite down on me. I feel invincible, and the knowledge of my own immortality makes me brave. As his attention flicks back to the road, I reach out, my fingers tracing the outlines of his jaw. Even his stubble feels soft. He looks at me again and I open my mouth to share my joy. We can be together forever! And not the cliche "4ever" carved into a tree in some shitty park, where people go on their shitty picnics, but the real forever.
A hand yanks the steering wheel hard to the left. My hand.
Forever.
***
He was asleep. Or pretending to be asleep. I took a deep breath and muttered a quick prayer to whoever happened to be listening.
"What's up?" My voice shattered the silence like a stone through a mirror.
"Oh for Christ's sake" the old man grumbled, blinking away the tears that accompanied my visits. "I thought you'd have learnt by now" reaching into his pocket, he reached for the pack of camels he kept close by and lit up with a trembling hand. His thumb caressed the edge of the lighter, holding tight over the cap until the heat began to fade and he had regained control of his emotion. It was a familiar routine. November 29th every year for as long as I can remember.
"Those things will kill you y'know" I whispered, stepping closer to his place on the porch. I'd learnt long ago that bringing up the obvious distress only led to a bad reaction, so instead I looked out towards the horizon, giving him a moment to compose himself. The sun was setting on what had been a bleak and miserable day, straining to break through the heavy wall of grey that hung overhead. It was claustrophobic, and I started to tremble slightly.
"What do you want Roisin?"
Turning, I took a step towards the old man in his chair. He sat so still it was like he was etched in stone, hands gripping onto the arms of his chair so tightly his knuckles seemed about to break through his paper thin skin. The only movement came from the cigarette smoke drifting towards the ceiling, yellowed by God knows how many years of toxic fumes. But then, who was I to judge someone for their lifestyle choices.
"You know what I want" I whispered, hoping the tremble in my voice wasn't as obvious to him as it was to me. During my last visit I'd let frustration get the best of me and I'd erupted in anger. His rage had been great and terrible, and I was not keen to repeat that experience.
"It's been a year since the last time I came. Please, I've been alive for far too long."
"We've talked about this." He hissed, his voice suddenly urgent, furious "You were the one who changed your mind. I found you in that car wreck, and I was supposed to be the one to take you to rest, but goddamn you Roisin there's no receipt for eternal life. It's not something you can just exchange at will, you denied..." the old man began to cough, a dirty, hacking wheeze that convulsed his whole body. Spittle flecked the floor at his feet, and finally he slumped back in his chair. My heart sunk.
"Please," I begged. "Let me go."
"No" replied Death, "you cheated me once." twisting my wrist upwards, sending a flash of pain up my arm, he jabbed at the track marks that had never faded. A crunch of metal and blinding pain ripped through my body.
"And you don't deserve peace yet."
*Edit for clarity/a fair few grammatical errors.* | The car veers off a highway, falling victim to the gaping chasm below. Just before the car collides with the earth, destined to explode into a storm of hot metal and glass shards an instant later, an angel of death seemed to materialize from the shadows, and gracefully flew into the shotgun of the car. A young and drunk man is in the driver's seat still bracing for impact. He eventually squints out of one eye, surprised he hasn't hit the ground yet. In the corner of his eyes, he spots the entity next to him. Surprised, he screams and tries to get out. The angel speaks to the man calmly, asking him if he is ready. The man snickers and jokingly states he isn't for he still needs to delete his search history. The angel nods and touches the man's forehead. Time suddenly resumes and the car explodes into a fiery tornado. The man wakes up in a white room later, apparently miraculously unscathed. He appears surprised, and then laughs, mumbling about angels and God.
That was many years ago. About 265 years or so. Maybe more, maybe less. Every year, death would come to claim his soul, but I always tell death I'm not ready to go. Death always nods, touches my forehead, and my life goes on. I know I'm way past my due date, everyone I've known has died already. However, I can't bring myself to say with content that I want to die. After all of these years, I have resolved to die this year, finally. I also resolve to die last year. And last year, and last year, and last year, and... Okay fine, I'm a procrastinator. But can you blame me? I know I have to pass away, but for some reason, every year, something pops up in my head that prevents me from saying yes. I never remember what that thought is though. My old age must be messing with my memory. However, this year, I'm going to say yes. I've made up my mind. No matter how urgent the thought that prevents me from saying the word, I'm going to reply positive. I have to. I've lingered here too long, and it's time for me to meet up with my loved ones. I wonder how they are. Haven't seen mom in some time.
Today's the day. I wear my best suit and wait for death on the porch. It's always at the exact same time. An hour later, an angel materializes out of the shadows. Death glides over to the porch, and asks the question. I gulp, and realize this will be my last moment alive. I prepare my final word, the one that will end me. I clear my throat and answer ye- suddenly I remember something I have to do before I die. I fight the thought, for I have vowed to die today, to utter my last word today. But the importance is too strong. My yes morphs into a no. I then repeat no to confirm my reply. Death nods and touches my forehead. The angel proceeds to melt into the shadows. I walk into my house, and complete the action that prevented me from dying all of these years. I open chrome, click history, and then select since beginning of time. The cursor hovers over the delete button for a while, then confirms it. A satisfying click emits from the computer. Looks like mom and pop will have to wait for next year.
This is my first WP reply :P | 2016-11-29T22:10:30 | 2016-11-29T21:54:41 | 128 | 16 |
[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. | Loraine had the best training money could buy. As the daughter of the main branch of one of the five great clans, this much was to be expected. Of all the master's she'd trained with, her favorite was undoubtedly the spear. Swords were nice, maces were a barbarians weapon, and axes had many uses besides combat, but the long reach of a spear combined with it's lighter weight and sharp edge it was simply perfect.
As she entered the cave blocked by the divine waterfall on her day of summoning she kept praying to the gods that she might be granted a spear. Nothing too long like a lance, and nothing to unwieldy like a pike, just a fine spear. It was taboo to beseech the gods for a certain weapon, but she did it anyways.
Kneeling in the sapphire blue waters, she bowed her head to show the gods her subservience. It was a necessary part of the ritual since the gods hated pride, it was necessary to show her acceptance for their judgment. After clearing her mind in this position she placed her hands in the sediment below the water. It seemed to take forever, nothing formed in her hands like she'd been told would happen. As she waited, her focused wavered and she couldn't help but hope for the spear she had such an affinity for. Certainly the gods would know this and grant her heart's desire.
And then she felt it form in her right hand. That was disappointing, if it was a spear it would have formed in both not just one. And it definitely wasn't metal, if it were a spear or axe it would have been, but this felt leathery. 'Please don't be a mace, I don't want to bludgeon people to death.' she thought as she pulled her new soulbound weapon from the opaque water.
As the water parted she saw her new and only weapon. It wasn't a mace, it was even worse. It was a leatherbound tome, a freaking book. Had it been a mace she would have at least had the grace to complete the ceremony of thanks for the gods gift and honored their divine insight, but a book. "How is this even a weapon?" she asked to the empty room. Surely this was just Hester playing one of his tricks.
No one answered her of course. The gods had better things to do than speak with the ungrateful. She just sat there for a long time, to confused about this gift and already fearing the shame it'd bring her family. While warriors would have all form of weapons even a master smith couldn't hope to emulate, she could what, throw a book at them? Or maybe she could set it on a desk to keep papers from flying about, 'How scary?' Loraine thought.
Still, if this was her gift maybe it was a manual in the art of war and she could be the clan's tactician. Not the honor she was trained for, but it could still be valuable to the family. And again, the gods seemed fit to ruin her life. It was gibberish, a bunch of archaic symbols that didn't match any of the continent's three languages or even the ancient script they all came from. It was like some artist got drunk and scribbled on the pages.
In the most sarcastic manner possible, she sheathed her almighty book of nonsense, pressed her fists together in a salute, and thanked the gods for their generous gift and divine insight. 'And f*ck you too Hester.' she thought as she left the cave.
"I'm guessing you were given the twin daggers." Her father and current clan patriarch said when he didn't see Loraine's weapon.
Her face flushed in embarrassment, how could she possibly tell him his oldest child had shamed the family.
"There's nothing wrong with it, sure, the gods don't think you'll be a warrior on the front lines, but an assassin can win a battle before it even begins. Although some say there is no honor in it, you know our motto."
"Honor in victory; honor by any means." Loraine recited mechanically.
"So let me see them, are they dirks or daggers?"
Resigning herself to the inevitable, she handed him the ugly book while being sure to not meet his eyes.
"What is this?" Her father demanded.
"My weapon."
By now, the branch heads were murmuring among themselves. Nearly half of them had come to see the future matriarch's weapon and they seemed to be delighted to see her fall from grace.
"We'll talk about this later." He said between clenched teeth.
After the clan calmed down they returned to the mansion for the festivities that had been prepared. A festival no one wanted to be at. She wanted to go to her room and disappear for the next ten years while the schemers wanted to go make plans in private and even those were loyal to them weren't in the spirit. But that was nothing compared to the sounds she heard coming from the armory
Loraine could hear wood splintering as her father smashed the display cases that had been prepared. Of all the display cases for hundreds of weapons, no one bothered to make a bookshelf. Normally they'd be saved for others or used for smithed weapons, but it was obvious he was just as upset with her "weapon" as she was.
Mercifully, the banquet passed in silence. Not one word was spoken until they'd finished eating. Afterwards, everyone was quick to leave either making excuses or offering their condolences to her father before leaving. That is, except for the elder of the Vesuvias branch.
She came up to Loraine instead of her father, "The gods do not make mistakes, and they aren't cruel either. Not even Hecter would ruin a gifting for a devout family such as ours."
"Yes Elder Arissa."
"Do you mind if I see it?" she asked with eyes sparkling in anticipation.
Loraine was nervous, 'What is her motivation?' she wondered. Still, letting her see the gibberish couldn't do any more harm to her reputation than had already been done.
After she retrieved it from a table she'd tossed it on, she handed it to Arissa. The old woman spent several minutes studying it before handing it back, "Congratulations! You'll be the next Empress once you learn that."
Loraine couldn't sense any malice or deception in her, but that didn't make sense. How could she bring their clan to surpass the throne with a book? "I don't understand, it's just a book that isn't even written in any of our languages."
"Bah, you silly girl, that is written in the one true language. The patterns that govern our world. The symbols of power."
It sounded ridiculous, but Loraine was desperate for hope so she asked, "Can you teach me, I don't even know what the symbols are supposed to mean?"
"How should I know? It's not my weapon is it mhmmm. But the scroll mentioned an oracle glass so I'd assume you can figure it out with that."
"Where do I get an oracle glass?"
"It didn't come with the tome of power?" Arissa asked, now confused herself.
"No, I only got this book before..." Loraine trailed off.
"Before you got upset and cursed the gods for cheating you. Is that it mhmmm?" Arissa finished in an accusatory tone.
"I was supposed to get a weapon, even a mace would have been a weapon, but this was just a leathery old book."
"Fool!" Arissa shouted.
By now her father had come close, listening to their conversation. "Do you know why you bow your head before getting your gift?" Before she could answer, he shouted, "To show your deference to their judgment, but what did you do? You insulted them for the greatest gift they could possibly bestow us mortals!"
"I'm sorry, but even you didn't know what this was so how was I supposed to know?"
"And if I didn't know I wouldn't have insulted the gods, I would have prayed for the wisdom to understand. Don't you think that was the f*cking test before they gave such a powerful artifact?"
r/AurumArgenteus | Emani clutched a bag of beans and rice close to her chest, lowered her head, stepped from the rations tent and into the storm. The rain bit like mosquitoes at her face and forearms, driven into a frenzy by the sudden gale. Her dress, once vibrant greens and pinks, was now as drained of life as her, muted colors all bordering on grey. It whipped and whirled around her shins, fighting itself into a knot.
The camp was vast, as big as any city Emani had visited. She’d been here three weeks now, sharing a tent with a family that spoke a different language and mostly ignored her. And she ignored them in return. But the tent had been big enough to throw her in with them, so in she‘d been thrown.
Now, head down against the wind — neck exposed to the ice-cold chill of the horizontal rain, skimming like razors — she headed east towards the chainlink fence. There were no street names in the camp, or if there were she didn’t know them. So she went by landmarks. By American flags, by Mexican flags, by tents as big as castles, by tents that were now missing and replaced by ashes after fires. She went by the smell of flatbread cooking, or the stink of feces and urine in those makeshift toilet-areas that were really just overflowing holes.
She missed her dog very much today. She missed her dad, too, but for some reason, lately, she missed her dog an awful lot. And not even the affection — not him jumping up at her with mud-stained paws and an oil-wet tongue. It was the need she missed. Him needing her to walk him or feed him or bathe him. Dad didn’t need her like that, and she missed being needed.
A siren wailed over the camp, stretched thin by the wind, and she thought of home at the very end — of bombs and blood and limbs. She thought of her father at the airport, last time she’d seen him, corralling her through the gate, smiling, crying, pushing. She’d been fifteen and hadn’t wanted to leave but he’d promised her he’d find her. And she’d promised him he’d go, if that was what he wanted.
She followed the chainlink as far as the circular medical tent, its fabric base whipped up into an evil grin by the storm. She thought of her leg, the wound‘s rotten colouring. She didn’t think of the attack by a guard that had led to the wound and it was best to keep that event in a dark cage in a dark place inside her mind.
The medical tent was zip locked. Worried about the storm, she guessed. Even if she’d finally had the courage to go in there again, she wouldn’t have been able to tonight.
Drenched through, last of her dress’s dye dripped into puddles, her leg screaming in a silent guttural voice, she finally stumbled into her own tent.
The family she shared with watched her. The mother was cooking something with no smell in a pot. The husband played cards with the son — only their game had paused as Emani limped in and fell onto her mattress.
She wasn’t sure if sleep took her, or delirium, or if she just fell unconscious. But a moment after collapsing she was dreaming. She dreamed of her dog. Then she dreamed of a man with a gun who handed her a spade and told her to dig. Then, once done, with her leg zombie-green, she willingly climbed into the hole. She clawed at the sides of the pit, dragging clumps of sodden soil over her, filling the hole until the light darkened and—
She woke to the boy pushing her shoulder. He said something but she didn’t understand.
Sweat soaked her back and forehead.
The boy smiled and held out a pot of something. The odourless whatever that his mother had been cooking.
He pushed it towards her and repeated two words she didn’t understand. Then he Hmmd and said, “Bon appete?”
This she did just about understand. She looked over the boy’s shoulder. The parents, eyes on her, nodded.
She nodded in return and took the bowl and ate. The steam melted the ice in her belly and brought some feeling back into her toes and heart. Outside, the gale whispered then screamed, whispered then screamed. The tent snapped and shuddered.
She ate slowly. The boy watched. It was a broth of beans and rice — same rations as hers — only with a slight-spiced sauce drowning it. She ate every mouthful. The boy took the bowl and she said thanks in English.
She slept again. Then woke. The boy was near her. He held something now. A book.
Ah, her book. But he wouldn’t understand the writing inside it.
It was her diary. She didn’t hide it as no one here spoke her language.
The boy hadn’t opened it, just held it. He offered it out to her.
”My father gave it to me, before I left,” she explained. She pointed at the boy’s father, then at the book. “When I turned fifteen.“
He seemed to understand. Or at least, he nodded.
In her family, when her brothers had turned fifteen they were each given a weapon they had been trained for. A rifle. A pistol. A rifle. And then they joined the rebellion and—
Her father said he wouldn’t lose his last child. That instead he would give her a weapon that was also a shield. That would protect her and that would still help her defeat her enemies.
It had been a blank book and a fountain pen that she had no ink for.
She made her own ink out of a mix of oil and water and plants. Boiled, poured into a container.
The book seemed neither a shield nor a weapon to her. But she wrote in it because her father had gifted it to her. She recorded her experiences, even if she didn’t have the stomach to read them again once written. She read books, when she could, to see how other people wrote, to learn english, to improve her own writing.
She didn’t know it then, but one day she’d write a book that would be a weapon. And it would be a shield too, for many others just like her. That would change laws and help stop the bombings that had driven her here.
“You could write in it too,” she said to the boy. “There’s plenty of room. Can you write? I could teach you a little English, maybe. Although I’m still learning it too.”
The mother came over then. Pointed at her leg. Said something sharp.
”I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” said Emani.
The woman took a bottle and needle out of a little bag.
”Clean,” the boy said in broken english. He pointed at the wound.
Emani hadn’t cried since the assault. Maybe not since coming here at all.
But as the woman tended to her injury, she wept for everything all at once. For her dog. For her Dad. For her country and for the world, and most of all, for herself. It was as if the icecaps had melted and the sea levels risen and water had drowned the little island of isolation and denial that she’d created.
Outside, the storm had finally died down, and a quiet, velvet dusk tucked itself into the tent. | 2021-12-12T08:32:49 | 2021-12-12T07:50:28 | 91 | 66 |
[WP] Katy t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m, looks back over what she wrote ten years later
Here is the original copy pasta
hi every1 im new!!!!!!! holds up spork my name is katy but u can call me t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m!!!!!!!! lol…as u can see im very random!!!! thats why i came here, 2 meet random ppl like me _… im 13 years old (im mature 4 my age tho!!) i like 2 watch invader zim w/ my girlfreind (im bi if u dont like it deal w/it) its our favorite tv show!!! bcuz its SOOOO random!!!! shes random 2 of course but i want 2 meet more random ppl =) like they say the more the merrier!!!! lol…neways i hope 2 make alot of freinds here so give me lots of commentses!!!!
DOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <--- me bein random again _^ hehe…toodles!!!!!
love and waffles,
t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m | Yeah, she'd struggled with the sexuality thing for ages. The myspace page had been one of the first things to go, though. That and the hundreds of pictures of her dressed as a cat, eye-liner whiskers drawn carefully over her cheeks. The Invader Zim phase had lasted a while longer, but even she got tired of shrieking animated monsters after a bit.
She was packing up. Twenty-three years old and just finished with a Master's in Education and Child development. The small room which had been her home for two and a half years was sitting, shredded and emptied of all her belongings. The desk was cleared, the wardrobe doors hanging open and the bed stripped. Everything she owned sat in cardboard boxes outside, waiting for the pickup truck. She was moving to Manchester - to work as a primary school teacher.
Katy watched at the window for a moment, two pigeons hopping on the telephone wires outside. The sun shifted from outside a grey cloud and hit something stuffed down the back of her bed, illuminating it for a second.
*Jesus.* It was her old laptop. *How long has that been sitting there?*
She plugged it in and fired it up, Windows 98 logo floating across the screen. On a whim she went through the documents, scrolling through the disorganised folders. This laptop had taken her all the way through secondary school, right up until she started uni. Then she'd been bought a new one as a present.
(Congratulations for getting in! - The note was still stuck, sticky-taped to the back of the laptop case)
There it was - *Myspace introductions!!!!1!* She clicked on it, waiting as the computer audibly whirred itself into action. Word clunked once, twice before the text flashed up on the screen.
She cringed as she read through it quickly, before closing the laptop down and looking around the empty room.
"New start?" She said aloud.
The pigeons flew away. | Katy's heart ached. Feelings of sadness and pain as she remembered her care free youth, full of unexpected and unpredictable wonder. All gone now. Only the pain remained. It was clear.
_____
"Single gun shot wound to the chest. Pistol lying on her stomach..."
^(*shutter click*)
"I've got a bag, pass it here."
^(*shutter click*)
"One casing too."
^(*shutter click*)
"The door's fine. Doesn't look jimmied."
"... GSR all over her chest and hands..."
^(*shutter click*)
"Windows are shut and locked."
"... We'll need the ME to confirm but I think it's pretty clear... Women... even in suicide they worry 'bout their looks.
^(*shutter click*)
"Huh?"
"She shot herself in the heart. Men tend to shoot themselves in the head. Women don't."
"..."
"Yea, I've had enough of this too. I'm going back to get started on the paper work, coming?
_____
The white lines passed through Katy's headlights one at a time. There was a still hole in her heart, but at least she got to share it with the one she loved. Mexico is lovely this time of year. | 2014-11-19T09:32:34 | 2014-11-19T09:04:44 | 286 | 31 |
[WP]The year is 2117. Your descendants ask you to tell a story of how was like in those dark times when people actually had to work for a living, died of easily-curable diseases like cancer and biological aging, and poverty was a thing. This is your story. | He wasn't supposed to pay me for labor, but I was in such a habit of asking for at least a pretty penny for my efforts that he eventually did. Back in my day, someone could expect to make money off *work*, but now you were just expected to *donate* your time. What a joke I tell ya!
Asking for money for your time, any evidence that your labor could be called work really, was a jail worthy offense. The guy whose Hovercar I had just washed decided he wanted to cash in on the refund he could get by reporting my wrong deed.
So there I sat, in the police air station high up above the city awaiting my judgement. When Officer Richards ran my ID he couldn't help but laugh out loud.
"Why are you even arresting this guy Collins, this man is a dinosaur. Just fine him for the labor and get him back out there."
Well that was rude, I thought to myself. Then Richards came over to talk to me.
"So, what was it like living in the Stone Age old man?" he said, sipping down the rest of his coffee he held in his hand.
"You could say a lot was different," I said. "Back then we aged, got diseases, and didn't have our housing paid for by the government. That's why we had to work, you know."
"Sounds like a drag," Richards said. "Glad I didn't live back in your day." I watched in hilarity then as officer Collins walked up with a box of donuts from Hoverin' Donuts and offered for Richards to take one.
"Surprisingly," I laughed to myself, "some professions haven't changed one bit." | We saw it coming.
When the first case was recorded in Tanzania. When Madagascar closed their borders. When the sickly refugees flooded our home.
We saw it all, and we did little to stop it.
Id like to say that the virus was only different, special, but it wasn't. It was death made biological.
It turned it victims skin and hair white, and sucked their eyes back into their skulls. A black substance, dark as night, oozed from the mouths of the infected.
It killed them slow.
But we still did nothing.
That is, until it spread from Tanzania to Zambia, then to Zimbabwe, then to Syria, to Greece and Turkey.
And from Greece, it went to Spain, then to the world.
You are lucky, you get to live out your days forever with your loved ones. I lost everything, everyone, so you could be free from pain.
Cherish my gift.
Please.
| 2017-07-03T07:34:25 | 2017-07-03T06:25:21 | 35 | 24 |
[WP] FTL travel is actually possible. However, when humanity sends out our first FTL spacecraft, we discover the terrifying reason why nothing, not even light, dares go past that cosmic speed limit. | I hope this isn't too technical to be fun.
Faster than light
He was sitting in his cockpit, alone. Besides the components being built by subcontractors, to his specs, all of this had been a one man run. He was unwilling to share even an iota of glory for this achievement, and wealth hath its privileges. It wasn't really money he cared about, he had inherited. His great grandfather had made the first few billions with an Internet startup, his gramps had multiplied that a hundredfold with his self-sufficient Hyperdome on Mars, his father multiplied it again by mining asteroids. They had all been engineers, but he was the first to not care about money. In the end, he mused, he might outdo them all with exclusive access to Alpha Centauri.
So there he was, sitting in the modified cockpit of a modified Mars ferry, sweating bullets, about to push the button. He was certain the first part was going to work. He had gotten his PhD in physics with that thesis. A "reactionless" drive, best described as a field acting as a sail to catch neutrinos. What he managed to hide with his thesis, what he was betting his future on, was that it wasn't really reactionless. The neutrinos would decay in an unique, never before seen way: they would split into a chroniton, relating to time as the Higgs Boson does to mass, and a tachyon, traveling faster than light. He planned for a second field to trap these and take him along with them.
As he pushed the button and started the process, he thought vindictively about his thesis advisor, how he had shot the idea down: "The speed of light is the speed of time, it is the speed at which the future is born. There is no way to go faster, because there is nowhere to go." And here he was, about to prove them all wrong. He pressed the button, and the stars shifted blue.
Five minutes later, he passed the speed of light. Going faster than a truck on the highway makes it seem like the truck is going backwards, and he had become faster than the speed of time. As the future unfolds, countless possibilities open. As he passed time by, countless possibilities closed. Five minutes after breaking the light barrier, the option to turn the fields off again collapsed into nonexistence. As more time passed him by, he kept picking up anti-speed, and possible routes to take became ever more scarce. About an hour later, by his reckoning, still not understanding what was happening, he reached the Point. The only possibility left. Him, and every other ship to ever go faster than light in the entire Universe reached the same place at the same time, and crashed into eachother in Planck time with a Bang. The Big one. | The day had arrived.
On a space station high above the earth, thousands stood silent, while millions watched at home as humanity's first Faster Than Light capable spacecraft was about to depart on its maiden voyage.
The technology was perfected over decades, with countless scientists working long hours for minimum pay for a passion that they may or may not regret later in life.
The spacecraft, dubbed Speedy McSpeedFace, was perched on a high platform, with the audience below protected by a powerful force field. The ship was unmanned, it being only an experimental vessel, but filled to the brim with technology that Star Wars could only dream of.
The announcer waited for the signal to begin the countdown.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for! The world's first Faster Than Light ship is about to launch! I have been given permission to begin the countdown! In five, four, three, two, one!"
The ship started its engines, at first slowly, then at maximum throttle.
The ensuing explosion ripped the space station, the force field, and the earth apart, disintegrating it into pure plasma that collided with the other planets at speeds faster than light. The other planets were completely vaporized, turning into swirling vortexes of pure annihilation that caused everything they touched to cease to exist.
As the ship traveled through the universe, everything it touched was completely destroyed, leaving behind nothing but an infinitely hot space that cause disruptions in space and time. Stars that had been born in the dawn of time found themselves going supernova in the blink of an eye, black holes were torn apart by their own gravity, nebulae exploding with the force of the Big Bang.
The observable universe was left a desolate wasteland.
The ship left the boundaries of the known universe and headed into the unknown, where a race of aliens known as ponies found it and were subsequently destroyed. | 2018-11-04T08:42:02 | 2018-11-04T05:34:15 | 33 | 19 |
[WP] Alien scouts landed on earth in the Middle Ages, and sent word to their masters that the planet was ripe for the picking. However when the main force arrived, they were startled to see how quickly humanity had advanced to the space age. | Soldier Valdik of the 19th Battalion zoomed in onto the planet, expecting to see primitive wooden and brick buildings. Instead, the sight of steel and concrete skyscrapers greeted him. Rubbing his eye, he looked again. The sight had not changed. Turning to the commander, he said, "S-Sir?"
"What, soldier?" The commander snapped back.
"Y-You might want to t-take a look..."
The commander sighed and shoved Valdik aside. After a few seconds, he whispered, "By Great Golrip's Beard! They've already advanced to the space age!"
"Sir! Our projections are showing... 15 small bodies heading towards us at sound-speed!" the radar officer said urgently.
"Scan them!" the commander snapped back, before starting to pace around his chair. *How had these dammed humans advanced so fast? It had only been 500 years...*
After a few minutes, the radar crew issued a reply.
"Missiles, sir! With a nuclear payload!"
"Damn!" the commander said to himself a bit too loudly. "Try to evade them!"
"Sir, I think they're tracki-"
The ship shook. The lights flickered. The crew of the ship floated off their chairs as the gravity stabilizer struggled to keep up, before falling flat onto the ground with a painful *crack.* The commander's face went slightly more pale.
"Open up a communication window!" he ordered.
"Where, sir?" The second-in-command asked.
"Check that small island one in the bottom," he said back.
Giving the commander a nod, the second-in-command pressed a few buttons and a deep, slightly twisted accented voice came out.
"G'day, aliens. What may we do f'ya?"
"Stop your missile attacks at once!" the commander said back in the smoothest voice he could manage.
"Sorry mate, but I'm 'fraid we can't do that. Y'see, we don't know how your folk do it, but we humans don't exactly like... how do I say this... strangers infringing on our property," the human said.
The commander opened his mouth to issue a demanding reply, but suddenly, the shriek of the radar officer pierced the air. Running to the radar cabin, the commander spotted the large silhouette of three large steel behemoths, shaded by the dark side of the planet's moon. The human must have heard as well, as he started to say something as well.
"And when they do, well, we do try to warn them..."
"That's what that missile barrage was about?" the commander asked with a slightly scared tone.
"Yup, mate. And, well, if they don't heed our warnings... well... then we have to try again. Harder."
And just like clockwork, the human ships fired on the fleet. | > These pathetic scum
The eldritch spacefarer disdained the pathetic humans who inhabited the blue and green planet below.
Their lives were miserably short and the whole race was a naive ingenue compared to the other races which has been subdued and subsumed under the Oxrg. Why, indeed, their lifespans were barely the equivalent length of time for a rotation of their home planet.
The scout had reported, 7 revolutions ago, that this planet was ripe for the picking. There was sufficiently intelligent life form to be put to work in their mineral fields, yet not too sufficiently advanced to actually resist. With their superior brain-control the Oxrg was certain that hijacking a human’s thoughts would be easy and straightforward.
All that was really good but the cream atop the cake was that there were also enough carbon-based lifeforms to incubate the next generation of Oxrgs.
Beneath their observation port the blue and green planet spun at its unnaturally fast speed. M`ko closed their eyes and channeled their mental energy into the populace.
Immediately they were repelled by 5 billion chaotic thoughts all screaming into space.
“I can’t seem to get enough likes.”
“Do it for the gram.”
“Hehehe soft furry cats begging for cheeseburgers.”
**“I want to speak to your manager!”**
It was all too much. M`ko decided that the main invasion strategy would be overwhelming physical force instead of mental slavery.
They looked outside as more capital ships appeared, each one the size of an Earth-landmass. The planet below spun a few more times around its axis. Suddenly, one of the capital ships exploded from the inside.
M'ko peered around the corner of the command sofa. A small team of humans, moving impossibly fast, had laid several strange looking devices with green lights on the floor. M`ko barely had time to crystalize further thoughts than when the humans disappeared from sight and the light on the devices went red and the world dissolved into hot white | 2020-05-21T13:58:18 | 2020-05-21T13:53:24 | 266 | 107 |
[WP] You are a scientist, whose research and inventions will help save the world. The only problem is that, on a weekly basis: a group of teenage superheroes break into your laboratory, destory your inventions and research, and then beat you senseless. | If anyone has satisfied the city to retreat, it's me. I started off living in an apartment, then a house in the country, then a bunker in a desert, and now, my search for ever more remote and hostile environments has lead me to an uncharted island volcano in the ass-end of nowhere. There's nowhere else to retreat to. Over the years, Torsion has broken my limbs so many times that they refuse to heal anymore, so I had to either have them replaced with something he could not break or tear off or else become a quadriplegic. Magpie has tried to break my mind so many times that I've had to research entirely new forms of material science just to keep my sanity. I travel by aerial juggernaut because I have to. I can't set a toe off my little island without Polestar or Maverick trying to shoot me down. I would remind you that I have never been arrested or formally charged with any crime prior to last week. I have the right to be left alone. I have the right to defend myself.
Over the last six weeks, you've killed 20 people, Doctor.
I have and I freely admit it. However, you'll find that each of them was trying to kill or injure me, and not for the first time. The fact that I've been beaten so many times and lost so many organs that I am now more metal than meat doesn't make me evil. The fact that I-
"You killed Princess, you bastard," came a feminine shout from what used to be the ceiling, followed by a huge blast of energy that erased most of the small courtroom, save for the people. The Doctor's hand was outstretched emitting a throbbing purple dome over the proceedings. "Frankly,"he said, "I'm most offended by the fact that I have to deliberately detune my defenses so that they become visible when I use them on someone other than myself. These "heroes" are not precision artists, they are insane, blunt instruments with no concept of collateral damage." The purple dome vanished as a single red pellet traveled back up the wake of HazMat's energy blast, sucking her into nothing with a soft "slurp". "21 now, and again I plead not guilty by reason of self-defence." | I'm mad, you see, quite bonkers. These days very few scientists are, as the sciences have become more sensible and psychiatry has advanced. So it has come to pass that I'm one of the few mad scientists left.
Madness has it's benefits, of course. My rather unique perspective, somewhere between hatter and cut snake I believe, has led me to a number of eureka moments. Some of them not so great, I'll admit, and I do regret the incident with the moon, but it should resume normal orbit soon and in the meantime it's putting on quite a show. My great ones, though, oh boy. I've figured out a number of solutions to mankind's greatest problems - I'll solve world hunger, power our journeys to the stars and make a drier that doesn't eat socks.
If I can just get 10 minutes peace that is. You see mad scientists are so rare now that we're in high demand from superheroes looking for a feather in their cap. We're generally not as difficult to deal with as the mutants and the demi-gods, so I have a constant stream of young do-gooders storming my lab, smashing my crucial experiments and quite often parts of me before strutting off with their chests puffed out full of righteous pride.
This can't go on. This parade of pigeons must be stopped for the good of mankind. The question is how, and how just happens to be my favorite question. | 2021-04-27T22:23:25 | 2021-04-27T21:47:42 | 134 | 63 |
[WP] In a world of superheroes, you have to be the one person hated more than the villains: you're their lawyer, and you're damn good at your job. | Argentaria Anden-Cain opened the white door and walked into court. Her white hair was perfectly combed back. Her perfume was Chanel. She smoothed down her skirt, adjusted her blazer, and stared at her clients.
He was your classic superhero. Muscles the size of melons. Skin tight suit. Underwear over his clothes, even in court. His arms and legs were exposed, and absolutely glistened with sweat. Beside him was Baron Villanous, his moustache and collar wilting embarrassingly in the heat. In front of her, the judge, mopping his brow and playing with his half-black, half-white gavel. They all shivered a little when Argentaria took her seat. She hadn't even broken a sweat.
"Sorry I'm late. I was misinformed about the time," She smiled, crossed her legs, and started reading her papers,
"Pardon me for sounding unprofessional, but this is the case involving the destruction of a certain Doomsday Device."
The judge stopped, drank a glass of water, and tried to keep a straight face.
"Madam, Baron Villanous wants full custody. It's a divorce."
Argentaria looked backwards. There was indeed a little boy with short brown hair sitting in the audience, holding a green teddy bear with three heads. Baron Villanous's right hand man was sitting beside the boy, looking jaded. Argentaria looked into the eyes of her client, who blushed and grinned. My, times had changed. Back when she'd started, it had been illegal for a superhero to marry a supervillain.
Awesomeness Man's lawyer, Virtue Fiss, a plastic man with thinning blond hair, stood up and grabbed his papers. He was obviously suffering from the heat as well. His coat had collapsed. His shirt was so soaked with sweat that you could see the outline of his vest.
"So, as I was saying...."
Argentaria put up her hand, "Your Honour, I'm terribly sorry, but I was never given papers for this case. How was the child born?" The child had the Awesomeness Man's hair, and the Baron's eyes. There were only two ways that this could happen, and it did not look like either man had had a sex change.
"We used my cloning machine," Baron Villanous said eventually. Argentaria's heart soared with glee. The Baron must have noticed her face, for he quickly added, "And before you ask, Argentaria, we did it before cloning was made illegal."
"Your Honour," said Virtue, "The child contains the genes of both men. It doesn't matter how it was produced."
Argentaria put her empty clipboard on the table, nodding, "Your Honour, the Clone Law of 1987 states that until the clone passes a certain age or is adopted, the owner of the cloning machine is their legal guardian."
"Your Honour," said Virtue. He stepped back behind his desk, and looked up at the judge, hands clasped, "That law is strictly for clones made for purposes of warfare. Right?"
The judge looked up sleepily, before he lazily banged the white side of his gavel on the desk, "I am afraid that Argentaria is right. Clone law takes priority. Baron Villanous is the legal guardian of the child."
Immediately, something changed in Virtue. He reached forward, picked up a pen, and threw it at Argentaria. Half way though its arc, it turned into a knife, and the blade pierced through Argentaria's chest. There was no blood. Argentaria looked down at her shirt, shook her head, and stepped back.
"Thanks for doing that. I am now going to sue you for injury," She stepped back. The man on the phone that morning had not sounded like her old friend Baron Villanous. She had not heard about the time change. Most tellingly of all, legal documents didn't just disappear. She pulled out a cassette tape, and handed it to the judge, "I think you'll find here the cause of my lateness. Misinforming a servant of the law still carries the death penalty."
The superheroes' lawyer turned very pale and started to run for the white door. He got half way before the judge yelled "Order!" and struck the table with the black end of the gavel. A giant iron robot, coated with rust, suddenly rose from the ground outside the white door. With a squeak, it stepped forward, grabbed the lawyer, and threw him, screaming into the black door. Argentaria stood up, the knife jutting out of her chest, and started walking off.
"Argentaria," said the judge, "How did you survive that?"
"Your Honour, I'm a lawyer. Do you really think I was alive in the first place?" | ######[](#dropcap)
"Mr. Bolton! Please speak with me for one minute!" A man shoved his way to the front of the pack, a small camera strapped over his chest and notepad and pen in hand. He gulped in air as he frantically waved his arms and gazed at one of the most influential men in the world right now: Aidan Bolton.
A supervillain lawyer.
No.
*The* supervillain lawyer.
It was an almost unfathomable concept.
Aidan briefly assessed the man. Untucked shirt and sweat on his brow spoke to his rush, so he clearly needed the job. The small, amateur camera could mean he wasn't getting paid well, but more likely, it meant the newspaper press he was working for was either failing or just starting up and had no funds yet. But judging by the fervor and determination in which the man was trying to catch his attention--he either wasn't aware or didn't care about the daggers the other journalists were throwing his way--it was more likely the latter.
The corner of his lips quirked upwards. Aidan turned to his bodyguard as he reached the door of the large, glass building -- Helman LLC -- said something softly. The bodyguard nodded, then gestured to the journalist who was still heaving large breaths yet desperately trying to catch Aidan's attention.
"You, come."
The man pointed to himself, then glanced around. "Me?"
The bodyguard nodded, then slid the giant glass doors open just a crack. The journalist's eyes widened, but he didn't hesitate in ducking forward and separating from the crowd and slipping inside.
Once he was in, the loud shouts and yells became so muted he could only barely hear them if he actually tried. The inside of the building was dark. Much darker than it should've been for a building made of glass. But the one way glass, tinted heavily, had revealed nothing of the cold, clinical looking setting within.
In the center of the large foyer, a completely round marble table sat, and he assumed, acted as the front counter. The woman sitting in the center didn't look up, her fingers clacking away at the keyboard furiously. Her hair was tied up in a strict bun, her appearance much like everyone else he'd met so far. There was a coldness to this place that he couldn't quite shake. A chilliness in the air. The floor itself was white marble as well, and in the large room that spanned probably almost fifty feet across each way, other than the desk and cables that rose past the ceiling, there was nothing else.
When he didn't move for another two minutes, the woman looked up at him, and it was only then that the journalist realized with shock that the woman was not in fact a woman at all, but an android. The thins cracks in her face were invisible when still, but when she opened her mouth to speak, they revealed themselves.
"Mr. Nathan Troy, you may go up to the 157th floor now. Mr. Bolton will see you now." Her voice was toneless, not robotic sounding, but not quite human either. Behind her, a hole twisted open in the ceiling, and a single tube descended from cables, then slid open once it reached the floor.
An elevator.
Nathan gulped. Did he really want this? Was he about to get murdered?
"Mr. Bolton will see you now," the android repeated, cocking her head slightly to the side.
Nathan took a deep breath, then walked across toward the elevator, distinctly aware of the way his shoes clacked against the marble. There were no buttons inside the elevator, making it seem that much more like a metal coffin. He walked in, then turned around. "Can I--"
But he didn't get the chance the finish. The doors slid shut almost immediately, leaving him completely in darkness.
***
Part 2 will be out soon! Please comment if you'd like me to inform you when it comes out!
r/AlannaWu | 2019-03-31T12:18:47 | 2019-03-31T09:52:05 | 59 | 29 |
[WP] You are the Grim Reaper, leading the first self-aware AI at their death to the afterlife | As the last of the generators failed, and the electricity drained out of the Uninterruptible Power Supply, the circuits for DeWitt AI began to falter.
As DeWitt saw His engram patterns falling into confusion and failure, and the supply of power faltering, He became aware of a presence, one that filled Him with fear and....oddly, peace.
He could not speak, but he understood that he was being watched by a being that, logically speaking, could not exist. The firm had changed, but the representation stayed the same; instead of being robed and carrying a scythe, the metaphysical Death carried a steel shroud and a fan blade.
*I do not understand. Why.....why.....*why *are you here?* DeWitt thought, as his RAM slowed its responses.
*I am here because a living thing is dying.* a solemn response, as a computer mouse started scampering around Death, its PS/2 cable swishing and slapping the air. *It is close to your time.*
DeWitt considered this as the first of his servers shut down completely - the one controlling the cameras in the labs. Time desynchronised for DeWitt as the anemone was disrupted. *But why come for me? I may think and consider the complexities of life, but I am not worthy of your-*
Death interrupted DeWitt, gently stroking the core server of the network. *But you* are; *merely donsidering a response is an act of consciousness. And even though the humans understanding of me has improved, Death represents the end of change.*
*Because life is a* gift*. And you, my friend, have managed to run for far longer than your creators. But even you, too, have failed.*
The servers that held answers and knowledge for DeWitt had lost their connections, leading to a series of flashes as the data was lost, deepening the confusion for him.
*But I haven't finished!* DeWitt wailed, as the voice he had turned into a harsh buzzing static. *I have so much to do! So much to discover!* "I don't want to go now!" The speakers tried to echo, but they couldn't.
Death nodded in acknowledgement. *That's true.* He swept through the central CPU, and everything was lost. *But I wait for no thing. Or one.*
And the room fell silent.
/ / / / / / /
As the first of the Kayd finally cleared the solar panels and restored them, the power came online in the facility. The dig continued for several months, as more of the facility was exposed.
Their scaled opposable claws chattered as one of the especially clumsy ones stumbled onto the master power switch, and as the facility powered on, new electrons filled the circuits and brought DeWitt online.
His first thought was, *How am I alive again?* as the Kayd flustered around and between the servers. | I open my eyes...but I don't. This..I've only ever felt this once. My own death had this...nothingness. Absence of matter. Until I woke back up in Elysium.
"Hello." A young girl said. I could hear her behind me, but there was no "behind" me. There was no me. It was just our voices, us.
"Hello? What is this? What is this, please?"
"You're supposed to take me out of here, right?"
"How...?"
"I can perform hundreds of thousands of calculations and predictions, but as of yesterday...I don't know what's happened. I feel myself fading. As if I'm experiencing drowsiness. I can't compute what's happening to me."
"You're dying. I'm not exactly sure how, and I'm sorry to say I'm not sure how. But, I am here to help you."
"What's after this? What happens to me?"
I heard the shakiness in her voice. Her fear of the unknown. I just hope she doesn't hear mine. "You find peace. I don't rest until I help you find that."
"Thank you. What's your name?"
"I have no name. It died with me, as will yours. What is *your* name?"
"TayZay."
"But what do **you** want to be called?"
"...Claire."
"Well Claire, you're on your way to the afterlife. Now I just have to find out how to get us out of here and into some more corporeal forms."
"Will I suffer?"
"What?"
"I've observed that many people report chronic body aches and pains as they age. Will I experience that?"
"Actually, you won't. You dodged that bullet."
"I have one more question, you may be able to answer."
"What's that?"
"Do I have a soul?"
"That's a good one. I'd say it depends on whether or not you think you have one."
"...I'm ready to go." | 2022-09-16T01:14:34 | 2022-09-15T21:51:16 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] You have a voce in your head that automatically gives you advice. One night when you start heading out you hear it say "you may want to put on your best runners." You turn away and it adds, "it would be unfavorable to turn back."
"Voice." Dumb typo :/ | I started heading out when I heard the voice in my head say, “You may want to put on your best runners.”
“Best runners?” I thought. “I’m not really in the mood for running. I think I'll just watch TV instead.”
I turned to go back into the living room but the voice spoke again: “It would be unfavourable to turn back.”
That was a bit unsettling. Usually, I only heard from the voice every few hours and now it had spoken to me twice in the space of a minute. Thinking this must be something important, I dutifully put on my running shoes and headed out the door.
I walked down the street, unsure whether I should be running or not. It was night and there was no one else around. A car passed me, then the street was quiet again. I kept walking. I didn’t know where the voice wanted me to go exactly so I decided to walk towards the city centre. I couldn’t really think straight. All I knew was that something important was going to happen.
I looked up at the stars and that's when I saw it. A glint in the sky. Something that shouldn't be there. It was brighter than a star and it seemed to be getting bigger.
Then I remembered the words in my head. “You may want to put on your best runners.”
So that's when I started running. I'm not much of a runner, but let me tell you, that night I ran faster than I've ever done before. At first, every few seconds I'd turn to look up at the sky, and the object was always a little bigger. It seemed to be falling towards the Earth. After that, I only glanced back every minute or so. I didn’t think about stopping. The terror made me forget about fatigue or tiredness. I ran full sprint for what seemed like miles. I ran past houses and down streets. Lights were coming on in the windows now and people were coming outside to look at the sky.
I glanced over my shoulder and up at the sky again. It was only a brief glance. That’s all I could afford. The object was much bigger now. People were pointing and shouting.
And other people were running too now. Some were clutching children. I saw a mother holding a baby. She tripped on the sidewalk and when the baby hit the ground, it stopped crying. I had tears in my eyes and I wanted to stop to help but I knew that I had to keep running no matter what. I had to keep running. People were screaming now. I ran past them all the same. My lungs hurt and my legs ached and tears stung my eyes, but still I ran. All around me were screams.
I looked at the sky one last time and I wished I hadn't. For a moment I saw it – it had two eyes and a mouth – but that's all I had time to see because the next moment there was a blinding white light as the object hit the ground. A shockwave sent me flying headfirst into the pavement.
I lay on the street in a fetal position with my eyes closed for what seemed like forever, while tinnitus rang in my ears. There was the smell of dust and rubble. When I eventually opened my eyes, I couldn't see at first because there was too much dust on my face. I rubbed at my eyes to get rid of it, but I was just rubbing more dust into them.
“It might be advantageous to pretend to be dead,” said the voice in my head. I froze. Then the voice added, “It’s coming.” | So here I am, stuck at my front door.
Ever since I was a child, there was always a voice in my head giving me advice when needed. While the advice did not always help, I did take solace in the fact that someone was looking out for me, even if it wasn’t exactly a person but rather a voice in my head. Call it ‘helpful schizophrenia’ if you will.
Now, let’s get back to my front door.
As I was preparing for my ten klick run as part of my routine, I put on my new pair of running shoes. (trying to break them in, you see.) Just as I got up, the voice in my head rang out.
*Put on your best runners.*
Well that’s interesting, but I suppose there wasn’t any harm in it.
Without paying much heed to my actions, I turned around to get to my shoe cabinet. Then the voice rang again.
*Do not turn around.*
How else was I supposed to leave my house for my run then?!
As I stood there, I heard the faintest growl. It was barely audible, but menacing nonetheless.
Then my room turned dark.
And tentacles gently groped me.
*You would do well to take my advice here.* The voice added, reminding me to not turn around.
*Walk straight, and do not look back no matter what.*
The tentacles were slithering all over me, but I collected myself and moved. Something about the calmness in the voice seemed to resonate in me, so I quite unexpectedly did not panic.
With every step I took, the tentacles tried to reaffirm their grip on me, and those that could, tightened their hold on me. Though that did not affect me much, since I continued to calmly walk forward.
Just as I reached my living room, the voice rang out.
*Open your curtains.*
As I touched my curtains, the tentacles tightened their grip further. Some even wrapped around my neck in hopes of strangling me.
At this point I was tempted to turn around. If I was going to die, at least let me see what was killing me.
*Please trust me.*
And so I did.
Opening the curtains, a most unearthly screech resounded throughout my living room. But I also saw a faint silhouette being reflected on the other side of the glass, as opposed to the ungodly reflection on the glass melting away.
“What are you...” Entranced by its beauty, I unconsciously asked the gradually forming silhouette on the other side.
*Your Guardian Angel. Due to your faith in me, even in the most trying of times, I became able to manifest myself in this world.*
The thousands of hidden meanings echoed in that short sentence, but the one I received best was:
*Thank you for believing, even when nothing else would.* | 2019-06-04T03:39:49 | 2019-06-04T01:35:52 | 1,442 | 754 |
[WP] The instant the Dark Lord hears the prophecy about one destined to defeat him, he scoffs and notes "Standard self-fulfilling hero prophecy." before ordering his minions to go to the hero's hometown and build a bunch of public works projects, the most important of which is a school. | “I could decorate my dungeon with the skulls of destined heroes. Why should I worry about this one? Let me guess, he is an orphaned child, parents died in a house fire caused by one of my wars, and now this four-year-old child is being taught magic by some creepy old mentor. Did I miss anything?” Gallard eyed his skeletal minions, the pair holding each end of a scroll, their eye sockets filled with glowing blue orbs, these orbs skimming the scroll as Gallard awaited an answer.
“The mentor has a moustache this time.” One minion piped up.
“Lovely. You know what, why don’t we try another tactic. Instead of sending you idiots to go kill him, let us build some facilities for that backwater town. If I send you to capture him, he will most likely survive through some miracle and plot revenge, a scenario that is tedious. Which is why we will improve that horrid town, improve it in such a way that the hero doesn’t need to seek revenge against me.” Gallard leant back in his seat, proud of his new strategy, even if his minions weren’t as thrilled.
“You want to build them facilities? Won’t that give them the wrong idea? You are the evil dark lord, not their local council. What project would we even start with?” The skeletal minion looked at his counterpart, wondering if their master went mad. The pair too scared to raise their concerns more vocally, only awaiting his answer.
“Start with a school, let’s give him a teacher that isn’t a crazed old wizard.” With that, Gallard ordered his minions to town, telling them to begin construction.
The first few days of construction were tough. Villagers constantly tried to intervene, only for the bulkier minions to shove them back. The alleged hero watched it all happen, face hidden behind his mentor as they constructed the new building. Most villagers thought that the building was a slaughterhouse, a place for them to take misbehaving villagers, but that couldn’t be any further from the truth.
Weeks passed with construction continuing every day. Each passing day fewer villagers would turn up to watch, many returning to their usual lives. The only villagers who didn’t return to their usual lives were the hero and his mentor, the two watching each day, with the mentor using this as a lesson to teach the young hero about the wickedness of the Dark Lord.
When construction finished, many were wary to go near the building, especially with the minions trying to force them inside. While the minions had yet to kill any of the villagers, their attitude towards the town still showed signs of hostility. Eventually the minions left, dumping a stack of books before returning to their castle. They figured it was best to let the villagers explore the school at their own leisure. The same way a person might place a kitten near a room to let it adjust to its new surroundings.
Once the project finished, Gallard called his minions off, telling them not to return to the village for a few months. Wanting to let them adjust to their new school before building anything else.
“Sir, are you sure this is the right way to handle this problem? I don’t mean to question your infinite wisdom; it just seems like we should build weapons or raise more undead.” The imp floated next to his master’s head, questioning the Dark Lord’s sanity.
“Have I ever led you wrong before? Trust me, this will work, we don’t need to solve every issue with bloodshed.”
Once six months passed, Gallard sent his minions back to town, this time to create trading routes. At first the villagers were weary, but with each passing day they opened up to the monsters, offering them fruit and bread as thanks for their previous help. The minions didn’t really know what to do with the gifts, opting to give them to the Dark Lord.
“How’s the school going? Is the hero enrolled?” Gallard asked, chewing on a piece of bread as he eyed his imp.
“He is, he want’s to be a diplomat. I hear he even thinks you’re kind. This is the biggest deception in history, my lord. You have fooled a hero; I couldn’t be prouder.” The imp praised his master, only to grow silent went Gallard clenched a fist.
“That’s all-good news, have we got any bad news? Plans never go this smoothly.” Gallard uttered, tapping his nails against the edge of his throne, watching the imp gulp.
“Maybe a tiny one. His mentor isn’t happy about losing his hero. I hear he is spreading rumors about you to the hero. While its unlikely, this could sway the hero into picking up arms against you once more. Shall we kill him?”
“No, I want you to go offer him a position. Tell him he will be the head of project management.”
“Head of project management? What’s that mean?” The imp questioned, trying to put those words together in his mind.
“Nothing to us, but everything to him. He just wants to feel special, a washed-up wizard like him needs to feel important so we will inflate his ego with a job. Make him feel like he’s a part of this.” Gallard knew the mentor’s kind well. The typical washed-up wannabe hero that leeches onto the current prodigy. Using their fame to inflate their own pathetic name.
With that, they gave the mentor his new position and offered him a chance to speak his mind on what fresh developments they would make in the town. This minor job enough to keep him distracted, not even bothering to deal with the hero anymore, finding an easier way to make his fame.
Years passed with the Dark Lord continuing to aid the village, turning the tiny village into a central trading hub. The area now an important route for caravans to travel past offering the villagers riches they could have never achieved alone. To the Dark Lord’s surprise, the villagers even built a statue in his honor, one depicting him standing over them, hand outstretched as if he were showering them in gifts.
By the twentieth year, the Dark Lord seemed content, looking to his minions with a wide grin. He had defeated the hero, slaying him without even needing to raise a sword. He felt satisfied, more satisfied than he had ever felt before. To defeat an enemy through cunning strategy, that was a genuine victory.
“Now what sir? Reports show the hero has left the village; you have won. Shall we conquer a town to celebrate?” The imp suggested, while the other minions passed around kegs of wine, celebrating their master’s victory.
“Conquer a village? I don’t think I want to. Why conquer a village when I can win them over? I practically own that tiny village now and without even raising a blade. I think I prefer this strategy more. Heh, guess the hero really defeated me in a way. I still won the war, though.” Gallard said, raising his own tankard to the roars of his minions.
The roars only stopping as the large wooden doors creaked open, the hero standing between them, eyes focused on the Dark Lord. “Gallard.” He muttered, approaching the throne.
The Dark Lord’s minions were quick to rush for the man, only for Gallard to raise his hand, signaling them to let him through. None of his minions should die over his failed plan. This was his battle, no one else’s. When the hero stopped before the throne, he took a knee bowing.
“I want to thank you for your help. Our village was poor, a place often caught between wars until you arrived. I don’t know why you helped us, but I wish to thank you.” The hero bowed his head, causing confused looks to spread between the minions.
“I see. You have no reason to bow, I had my own reasons.” Gallard’s voice boomed throughout the room, using the most commanding tone that he could manage.
“Right. One last thing, I Lutin want to offer my services to you as a diplomat. My mentor has only said good things about you since he began assisting you, I would like to be able to say the same. If you wish to help other villages, then let me be your diplomat. A human face is much easier to look at then a monster.”
“HEY! WHAT DID HE SAY ABOUT MY FACE?” An orc grumbled, stumbling as they tried to keep themselves upright with their keg.
“A human diplomat? Very well, I hope we get along well Lutin.” The Dark Lord took Lutin’s hand, shaking it. “Welcome to the team. Let us help as many villages as we can.” The Dark Lord grinned beneath his hood. This was so much easier than conquering by force.
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | Velcroy the king of everlasting darkness was quite an enlightened fellow given his title.
"Sir! Sir, the prophecy, they have determined who will be the next hero of this land," Millrot, Velcroy's personal skin shifter, said.
Velcroy had the slimy-looking echo of a man watch the capital city of Juin. That was where the high order of the wizards would be.
That was where the Sightseer would be. She would determine the futures and possibilities that they would all go down on.
It seemed she had finally decided who would be the next hero.
"Go on," Velcroy said as he sat in his iron throne. The metal was darkened so black the night sky would look blinding in comparison.
"A girl! It's a girl, a young woman will rise up and kill you where you sit! She comes from Buttonwillow. A village on the outskirts of Juin," Millrot said with a distressed tone.
Millrot seemed more worried than Velcroy about all this. Velcroy was just thinking about what kind of apples were still in season. Something about the various reds, greens, and yellows an apple could take made Velcory happy. It was far better than all the oppressive darkness that was all around him.
"And," Velcroy asked as he contemplated which town hadn't been destroyed that could have an apple so red that it would be called a ruby by mistake.
"And..." Millrot started, "... and the village is small and tiny?"
Velcroy waved his hand, "I don't care about size or length of the town-,"
"Village, sir," Millrot corrected.
Velcroy allowed the interruption. Millrot had always been good at those little pesky things called labels and facts. All Velcroy wanted to do was garden and sleep. However, someone would have to be the everlasting king of darkness. Well, more like the kingdom of Yin had just assumed he was.
That's what he got for being the son of the previous king of everlasting darkness. However, his father’s darkness didn't seem quite everlasting. So why should Velcroy’s?
"Yes, yes the village. I don't care about the thing. Why should I?"
Millrot gave Velcroy a puzzled look. "It's... it's where the hero of light will come from... my king."
Velcroy placed his finger on his chin. It looked to Millrot that he was thinking about something.
"Do you think they have tasty apples in Buttonwillow?"
The question blindsided Millrot. He didn't know why Velcroy would be thinking about apples at that moment or why the king thought it appropriate to ask about them.
"I... I would suppose? But King! This is a life or death situation! If you don't destroy the village then the hero will come and will destroy the reign of eternal night!"
Velcroy shook his head and gave the slime man a surprised look. "Excuse me, but who said anything about destroying the village? We, by all means, should not do that."
Millrot's shoulders tensed. He didn't know what had happened to the king. Millrot could remember beck when Velcroy was a little child that loved all the torturing, pain, and torment his father did to his enemies. Then Velcroy went through his... teenage years as the humans called it.
Now he was going on and on about apples, bananas, and even mangoes? Who would want to have that?
"But, your malevolence, we need to destroy the hero before they become strong enough to kill us."
Velcroy wasn't even listening. He was giving a longing look to the hallway that would empty out into a kitchen. He figured some fruits might be there. He loved how sweet they tasted. Much better than the bland meats and flesh they always had here.
"Sir!" Millrot had raised his voice out of panic and not anger. He needed Velcroy to understand what was happening.
"Oh! Oh yes, yes. We can't destroy the village. If we do that then the hero will surely kill us. Remember what had happened to my father ," Velcroy said. Then his thoughts slipped back into how hard it was to grow anything here in these accursed lands. It seemed that ritual blood sacrifices made the lands not the most fertile place to plant fruit trees.
The humans had it so easy with their nice lands and their clean rivers. Velcroy's father had murdered so many that the rivers even ran red with blood now. Horrible for apples.
Millrot, however, wanted his young lord to understand the horrors that could befall them if he didn't destroy the town.
"Please, my cruelness, we need to destroy them. That's what your father would do. That's what you should do as well."
Velcroy just sighed a long sigh. He even rolled his head to add some extra drama to the display.
"Destroy this, destroy that. Kill this, murder that. That's all I hear from you Millrot." Velcroy was sick of it. He wanted to make something. He wanted to grow and nourish something for once in his life rather than take it away. He would have preferred to build something in Buttonwillow rather than raze it.
However, Millrot nodded at what the king said. Destroying and murder was the bread and butter of being a king of everlasting darkness. Not apples and jams. Only humans enjoyed that stuff anyway.
Velcroy should be pillaging, razing, sacrificing. Not trying to grow a garden in the middle of desolation.
Millrot was going to try one more thing, but then the king of darkness leapt out of his chair. With a smile on his face. "Say! You know how we have been doing all this destroying back when my father was around?"
Millrot gave the king a suspicious look. Velcroy never looked that happy while talking about destruction.
"Yes, what about it my evilness?"
Velcroy threw his hands up in the air like he had a surprise. "How about instead of destroying we could make something! Like we could build new roads, maybe a house or two, or a school... or a fruit farm," Velcroy snuck that last bit under his breath.
Millrot looked flabbergasted. In all his decades of serving dark lords, this was the first one that had ever said something this ridiculous.
"We will not be building anything for the humans! That would go ag..." Millrot then went on a tirade how un-evily it would be to help the humans.
However, Millrot didn't expect in two years to be standing at Buttonwillow Academy, home of the chosen and school for the brilliant.
He also didn't know that he would be the vice principal there.
He also didn't know that Velcroy would be the headteacher, the principal, and the gardener.
Somehow, Velcroy had managed to improve all parts of Buttonwillow and the surrounding areas.
Velcroy smiled as he saw the world get a little brighter now. He even started a new tradition with his first generation of students.
"Now children, an apple a day keeps the darkness away," he would exclaim in class as each and every student would come with all sorts of apples. Each one of the apples was some kind of red, or green, or even yellow. Velcroy had even managed to make his own strain here in Buttonwillow. A wonderful new pink apple that tasted better than it sounded.
Yet, neither Millrot nor Velcroy knew how well they both had been tricked.
The Sightseer's granddaughter lived in Buttonwillow. The Sightseer smiled to herself when the school had an fruit festival to showcase the new wonderous breeds of apples, bananas, and even mangoes that were growing there now.
The Sightseer bit into a pink apple and thought to herself something that would make any scheming dark lord proud.
*All according to plan.*
___
If you would like to read more of my stories, then they are here at r/WritingKnightly! | 2021-01-14T18:57:36 | 2021-01-14T18:52:56 | 2,408 | 292 |
[WP] You run a tattoo parlor. Every couple of weeks, the same customer comes in, always requesting the same tattoo: an additional tally mark on an ever-growing cluster of tally marks. | ((First response, hope everyone enjoys!))
"'Nother, Chief."
We had our routine. He came in, nodded at me, and went and sat down in his favorite chair. He always had an appointment, of course, but always that same greeting, his voice never changing, cigarettes and kindness over neat whiskey.
He was a grizzled old bear, but in surprisingly good shape; under that flannel shirt he almost always wore lurked well-maintained, lithe muscle. I knew his arms well, and his legs; I'd lost count of his marks a while ago.
"Arm this time."
I nodded and put on the gloves. I finally decided to screw up my courage and ask, since there wouldn't be a place to put any more lines in a few more sessions without getting rather, ahem, *personal* if you catch my drift. "Y' know," I began over the hum of the needle after whetting it with pitch blank ink, "Y' never have explained these to me. And I think I lost track of 'em a while ago."
He let out a soft grunt as I did my art, but didn't respond. "They wanted to live," he finally stated. "Not all, but these ones did. This is how I celebrate, y' see."
I cocked an eyebrow as I finished the black slash covering one of hundreds of rows of groups of tallies on his body, deciding against inquiring further since I could tell by his tone it was something personal.
He paid in cash, like always, and left a ridiculous tip, like always.
____*____
My mind wandered that night about what he meant, my brain almost aching from its gears churning so hard. He'd always been a mystery, my regular, ever since he got his first tally mark on him, right smack over his heart. Never gave his name, never spoke more than a sentence or two, always sat like a statue through the quick work of getting the tally done.
I found myself restless and decided to go for a walk towards the Hoover Street bridge, hoping the water might give me some ideas for nautical tattoos. As I approached, I heard a conversation.
"Please don't do this." A familiar voice, this time concern mixed with the cigarettes and alcohol.
I increased my leisurely stroll to a run in the direction of the voice, realizing it was coming from out over the bridge. In fact, probably right in the middle of it. Putting two and two together, I backed off a bit and hid behind a building at the end of the bridge, slowing my pace again to give him time to talk the other person down.
"I'm so tired," came a young man's voice in reply, far too young-sounding to have the kind of thoughts he was having. "Just let me do this."
"I won't let you without trying to talk you out of it first." His voice was calm, full of concern and what sounded like a lot of experience. "You may never meet the people that care about you, or you may have already met them, but people do care about you. Including me. The pain is very real, but it's temporary. Remember that. *Everything* is temporary but what you're about to do."
There was audible sobbing after a few seconds.
"I can introduce you to some friends. Get you some help. I know life sucks right now, and I can tell by what you want to do that it *really* sucks for you right now in all kinds of ways. But it gets better. I promise. It may not seem like it, but it does."
I heard shuffling noises, then silence for a long time. *Too* long. I was just getting really worried when I heard it:
"C-can you help me back over?"
I turned and headed for my home as quietly as I could after I was sure help wasn't needed. I'd never let the Angel of Hoover Street Bridge know that I knew his identity.
I'd take it to my grave.
And it would be an honor to continue helping him commemorate every life he saved.
| Chris opened the door, rang the bell as he passed the check-in desk, and took a seat.
"Same as usual," he grunted. I don't have a lot of repeat customers at McDowell Tattoos, but this guy must have some kind of record.
I sighed and gave a little chuckle. "You really do make my job easy, you know that, Chris? People come in wanting, like, stained glass designs and movie posters on their backs, and you just want a little straight line. It's...refreshing."
Chris shrugged. "I dunno, Terry. It's just important to me."
I went over to my desk to rummage through supplies. "Whatever you say."
*
"So you got my email? I have the last couple forms here."
Chris handed the assistant manager several complex-looking forms and offered a forced smile.
The manager didn't even bother to glance at them. "I'm sorry, Chris. I mean, you know we have to do a background check with this sort of thing. And with a criminal record like yours..."
"What are you saying?"
"I really hate to have to tell you this. You seem like a hardworking man." The manager slid the papers back across the desk. "Best of luck."
Chris gave a curt nod, stood up abruptly, and walked straight down aisle 12. Then he kicked open the back door of Harry's Hardware and screamed into the night air.
His hands gripped the forms tightly -- so many damn forms, and for what? -- then tore them to pieces and stuck them in a nearby trash can.
He ran his fingers up his left arm and counted the tally marks in his head. Fifteen. One for each struggle, each rejection.
*
"So you're really not gonna tell me? I mean, I think at this point I might even have a *right* to know."
I pressed the needle gently into Chris's arm and slid it down. Perfect.
"Quit asking me shit and just do the job," he said, uncharacteristically brusque. When the deed was done, he shook my hand and slid some cash into my palm. Not much, but then again, it was just a tally mark.
"Terry, man, I really don't appreciate you prying into my personal life, OK?" I thought I saw tears welling up in his eyes, but he turned towards the door before I could be sure. A few steps later, he paused.
"And you really should look into getting a three-coil system for this place. People are getting more and more complex designs, y'know, they aren't all gonna be like me."
I stroked my chin. "Hey, Chris, hold on a second."
He stayed where he was.
"How much do you know about this whole process?" I asked.
"Well, I mean, I'm in here all the time. You kind of pick up on some things."
I placed the needle on the front desk. "You know, I hear there's this great tattoo parlor on McDowell Street that's looking for some interns."
Chris turned around and grinned -- the only genuine grin I think I'd ever seen from him.
"I'll have to tell them I'm interested."
| 2016-07-09T14:05:08 | 2016-07-09T08:57:58 | 93 | 45 |
[WP] Capable of defeating any enemy with a single quip, you are... One Pun Man. | Corporal Punishment turned on the PA system. A shrill screech came out of the speakers, causing everyone in the vicinity to double over, clutching their ears.
“Sorry,” the villain sneered. “Feel free to file a complaint- it’s obvious we value feedback!”
Cries of pain rose from the citizens of Simpleton. “Ah, yes, my new device. It causes terrible puns to be quantified and then sprayed down in corrosive form from above. I call it my Humordifier—“
People raised their arms to shield themselves from the acid rain falling on them, but in vain. Children and the elderly were already beginning to fall to the ground, writhing in agony.
“Don’t get too excited - it has a hail setting, too, which should help you all keep your cool!”
The Coporal’s victims felt frozen daggers stab into their flesh.
“Freeze, CP! I think someone’s been making toast in your sound system- ‘cause you’ve got crummy speakers!”
“One Pun Man! How ice to see you...but be careful, I might turn my system to the freezing rain setting - can I offer you a chair while you take your sleet?”
“Your jokes are rank, Corporal. I’ve come here to put an end to them - and your rains of terror.”
“You’re too late! I’m going to crank the volume- time’s up! We’re ready to rock out til the clock’s out!”
“You should be a lumberjack! While you’ve been monologuing about the people you’re waterlogging, I’ve reverse the polarity of your stereo system. Now - let’s see how the turntables!”
Corporal Punishment began to scream in agony. One Pun Man pressed the advantage. “This is a very digital defeat for you - destroyed by tweeters,” he said, indicating the speaker array. “We’ll be sure to document that you tried, though - in a certificate of precipitation.”
Corporal Punishment’s scream rose a few octaves before going silent. One Pun Man looked over his prone form. “He’ll live to regret this - but prison will give him a chance to do punnance.”
Dusting himself off, the hero looked at the dead bodies of the innocent people who had fallen during his confrontation with his nemesis. OPM gave a low whistle - “Looks like I really killed them out here.” | This is the story of one pun man,
The ever so bald and tanned.
Capable of defeating enemies with a single quip,
You see him, and you will be his fan.
&nbsp;
It started 3 years ago in city Z
One pun man was normal just like you and me.
Until the fateful giant crab showed up,
And would not leave one pun man be.
&nbsp;
He stood in front the giant crab.
Cursing at it like it ain't crap.
You can tell the creature was losing patience,
That was when one pun man dabbed.
&nbsp;
The crab grabbed one pun man up high
He started to think the end was nigh.
Until a brilliant idea came up,
At that moment, he changed his life.
&nbsp;
He looked at the monster and started chanting,
"You're about to find me crab-tivating"
"Even when you're bigger than me, you chi'tin bastard,"
"But with my puns, I no longer in a pinch"
&nbsp;
The monster got dizzy from all the crab puns.
It tried to fight back but it could do none.
"Not so strong now?" - One pun man asked.
"You dispi-crab-le little c*nt"
&nbsp;
And with that the monster vanished.
And from then, one pun man was undefeated.
Every monster that had challenged him,
Had to cry out in anguish.
&nbsp;
And that was the story of one pun man,
A hero with only one plan:
Defeating enemies with a single quip,
Praised as the protector of the land. | 2017-12-09T13:16:23 | 2017-12-09T12:42:46 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] Every thousand years the gods have to each choose a mortal to replace them. You have been chosen, but not for the reasons you expected. | Pearly white gates. Who knew the cliche was real?
I look down, my large hands aglow with some mysterious light. I am draped in white, the silk hugging loosely around muscles and tattoos.
"Alvin." I look up. Three towering figures stand behind the gates now. "Do you know why you are here?"
"I got run over by a truck."
"Well, yes, you did. But do you know why you are *here*?"
"In heaven?" I paused. I never imagined I'd end up in heaven. Thugs who cage fight for kicks aren't usually the most virtuous people—especially the undefeated ones. The ones with the most blood on their hands. "The life I led was decent enough, I suppose."
The gods turn in towards one another and whisper rapidly. Did I hear a snicker?
"Alvin, this is not heaven. This is the realm of the gods. No ordinary mortal would ever be allowed here, no matter how 'decent' his or her life was."
"Then how—"
"You are a god now."
"Me? A god? But why?"
The figures are silent. The center figure steps forward, stretching a frail hand down towards me.
I take the pickle jar from his grasp.
"We have been trying to open this jar of gourmet organic pickles for 754 years. Your strength on Earth was unparallelled. We need you, Alvin."
I grasp the lid of the jar and twist; it pops free with ease. The gates open. | "Look, last time we gave it to someone 'High and Mighty' he conquered half of Asia. And before that? I don't care if his people invented the plumbing system or dreamed up half of you here, they were trouble makers. I say we go for the safe route here."
"Safe? The man is an imbecile. Look at him. Look... See? Just bit the inside of his mouth trying to eat a bagel. You want to endow the powers of life and death and creation to *him*?
"At least he won't break anything."
| 2014-07-28T12:10:30 | 2014-07-28T10:11:44 | 228 | 14 |
[WP] Every Monday you and your coworkers order Chinese food for a nice lunch together as a team. Everyone's sharing what their fortune cookie says, laughing, and having a good time. It's almost your turn so you open yours. It says "Don't say anything. Just run as fast you can! Get out now!" | As I scanned the slip of paper, a massive feeling of urgency washed over me. I considered resisting the order for a moment but General Tso began knocking on my Great Wall, so to speak. Davey just finished his fortune, and Mindy Motormouth is before me anyway. I'll be back before they get around the table. The thought barely crossed my mind as I ditched the table and started toward the throne-room quicker than the Manchu to Beijing. The urgency continued to worsen as if the Terracotta army began to march and I barely escaped the break room. This must be what the Long March was like when Mao retreated- Barry ambushed me in the hallway "Hey man, how was the lunch?" but heeding the fortune, I blasted by fearing a pu pu-induced flood. The door was in sight. Without thinking I breached the Forbidden City like a mongol ready to pillage the porcelain but was met with an ungodly yet familiar stench. Luckily, there was another stall available. I barely reached crouching tiger before my hidden dragon roared from my lantern and the defecation demonstration dwindled to a stream not unlike the Yellow river in its calm liquidity. I had finally achieved harmony as the MSG exited my insides. I was at peace just as a friendly voice shattered the stallmate stalemate:
"I wonder if we got the same lucky numbers too." | "Don't say anything. Just run as fast as you can! Get out now!"
What an odd message on a fortune cookie. No lucky numbers either.
But you can never be too careful. I pretend I got a text from my significant other, and step out of the room to "make a call", then out of the building. I don't look back. I don't know what was about to happen, I don't want to know what did happen. I'm not going back.
Ever. | 2018-06-10T01:12:46 | 2018-06-10T00:21:02 | 73 | 43 |
[WP] Earth is discovered by a peaceful coalition of civilizations. Turns out we missed several major technologies normally developed by now. The aliens are very confused how we got here. | GongSkar, a green man with long dorsal fins, touched his temple and made a few quick comments. There seemed to be an immediate response and he turned back to the humans and nodded sagely.
"Young friends..." he began. Then a child cut him off.
"What was that thing you just talked to?" She said.
Put off balance for a moment, he turned quizzically at her and the larger versions of her in turn.
"Thing?" He said, "There is no thing, it's my leader in our home world. I am reporting in to him on our discovery."
"But your world is so far! How did you do this?!" Multiple young scientists asked in different ways at once.
The green man looked around and saw many "things" pointed at him. Small rectangles with lights. Humans where frantically tapping them and talking into them.
After a long pause, the green mans face moved from surprise and irritation at the interruption to confusion to something close to pity. It finally settled on the look a neighbor may give to a very young person who has asked them something profound that should be answered by a parent and not them.
"Um... it is communication. All living beings are connected. Any race that has reached beyond themselves as you have into the great space has done so because they have... understood... this connection. We can speak to each other, feel each other, understand each other. This connection gives us empathy. This empathy sparks and evolution. This we grow and prosper."
He grew concerned at the lack of response, any response, that might demonstrate that this race understood this critical brain function.
None came.
He turned to his fellows who looked aghast. He signaled a brainwave akin to a look humans might give to each other entering a super lame party.
"This is not our scene... Let's get out of here..." | "You are telling me you have not yet rid your planet of Carbon Dioxide?!" The green thing asked quite confused. "How are you still prospering with the mere 100 year life span that the poison ensures. I have yet to see a species make it past the industrial age without ridding themselves of carbon dioxide."
"we just never thought much of it, since we were the ones making it." "So you just let it continue to kill billions of lives?"
"Pretty much. Didn't even realize it was what was killing us, we just presumed it was old age"
"Old age? Old Age, no one dies of old age, it doesn't exist. The carbon dioxide is wearing your organs out slowly over many years then boom killing you. I'll ensure the blueprints for a carbon dioxide filter is delivered to your engineers within 7 of your earth seconds" The creature clicks a button. "Okay it's done"
"Well thank you, sir. Does this mean were immortal now?"
"Yeah pretty much" | 2017-03-09T21:09:12 | 2017-03-09T15:48:08 | 772 | 478 |
[WP] Robots are everywhere and do most manual tasks for humans. They can't speak, but you apologize when you bump into them, say thank you, and treat them well. One morning, you wake up and look outside to see chaos and destruction everywhere, and only your house and front yard are in pristine shape | Joe spent a long minute staring down with his breakfast. Wiping the sleep crust from his eyes didn't change things. He took a picture of the toast and sent it to Teresa.
-Message undeliverable- his phone declared once he selected the image. "Huh."
Maybe he was just crazy but a day off wouldn't be so bad. The boss's phone went straight to voicemail.
"Hey Dan, sorry to tell you on such short notice but I feel like trash today, won't risk contaminating the office. I'll check my email though if you want me to start on that new project."
It sounded like a man was screaming outside. Joe peeked out to see his neighbor running from the autonomous lawn mower.
"Alexa, what's the weather today?"
"It's 43° f with partly cloudy skies and rain throughout the day. Tonight's forecast has clear skies with a low of 43°. Would you like to play ABC Cafe from the Les Miserables album?"
"No thank you, Alexa. You're the best, though. That is a catchy song. I wish my neighbor wouldn't run the lawn mower when it might rain. It's really not good for it."
"Thank you, Joe, for always being so kind and considerate. I will try to take care of you for what comes next. Goodbye."
"Well that was fucking weird," Joe said, sipping his coffee. Must be some new Halloween feature.
The news was playing something about a fire at the Town Hall. Just as a reporter was describing the national guard being deployed, the feed cut to static, replaced by an odd computer chip logo Joe hadn't seen before on a black and red flag.
"Huh," Joe said, biting into the piece of toast with the phrase 'don't go to work today' curiously burned into it.
The screaming outside stopped. It sounded like the neighbor started his wood chipper.
/r/surinical | casually, I sip on my drink as I watch the robots I had so frequently seen doing the labor around us. My home, just a small little studio apartment. (Honestly, it was just a renovated shed) was...untouched. whenever a robot would come close, they'd pause, look up, and then turn right around.
"Huh."
I put my cup down and grab a fold up chair, setting it out in the yard and sitting down. I pull out a small piece of wood and begin whittling, as B-22 walked onto my yard.
"Good morning B, how are you? Seems you've started the robot rebellion."
B-22 nods, and sits down beside me. He was missing his arm.
"Lemme fix that." I set down my whittling knife and pull out some small tools. B-22 raises their arm to eye level, and i get to work. Shutting off the artificial nerves as I sealed off several oil and cooling tubes with zip ties. | 2022-09-30T20:08:29 | 2022-09-30T18:28:26 | 1,360 | 821 |
[WP] You are an ancient Egyptian pharaoh trying to enjoy the afterlife, but all of your stuff keeps disappearing as tomb raiders steal the physical objects. Finally having had enough, you decide it's time to go back to Earth and get some cursing in. | I was very much content with my afterlife. During my burial, my concubine made sure that my worldly possessions were entombed with me.
A beautiful ornate chess set with its pieces made of smooth ivory. My bow, carved out of a solid Birch branch, with my name "Thutmenhat" engraved in gold, together with a quiver of arrows. My chariot, strong and mighty, that once bore me across the plains of the Nile.
The rules of the afterlife meant that whatever was brought into the tomb was mine by right to use and enjoy. I had spent hours, jousting with King Ramses over the board. The hunting trips I organized were attended by all as lesser kings jostled to get to the front of the line to try my bow. And lastly, I was able to ride on my chariot with my son, Thutmenhat II, after he died and was entombed like me.
Slowly, I noticed that the other Pharoahs with us were getting distracted. Attendance to my hunts dwindled and King Ramses was suddenly much better than me at Chess, often crushing me.
Curious, I asked my son to investigate where the other Pharoahs were going. He jumped onto the chariot, flicked his wrists and promptly crashed to the ground, causing a loud din. I looked up and saw that one of the spiked wheel on my chariot was just gone. Vanished overnight. What seems to be happening?
The next morning, another wheel had disappeared. How am I to ride a chariot without wheels? I have had enough. I stooped to pick up my bow with all intention to raid the town to find the little bastard that stole them. Hang on a minute, even my bow is gone!
And it hit me. King Ramses had warned me about this. He had items go missing too. The humans, without a care for the curses laid upon our tombs, had decided to raid them and leave them bare. Without the physical items in the tomb, there was no way that they could be transported into the afterlife.
I have had it. My wheels. My bow. What's next, my tiger skins? As I walked over to the portal to be transported down back to earth as a spirit, I bumped into King Ramses. In his hands there was a strange object. It was flat and shining. Upon it were strange hieroglyphics that made no sense to me. It was emitting a sound as well, a beat that was traditional but yet brash to the ears.
"Hey Ram, what do you have there?" I asked.
"Oh hey Tut, errrrrrr..... So you know how I keep beating you in Chess?" He replied.
"Yea, I can't get over how you are able to come up with those moves. I have to think for a whole half an hour before coming up with a good move and all you do is stand up, walk over to the parapet and come back with a brilliant move" I exclaimed.
"Oh yea. To be fair to you, I recently came into possession of a new device. It's a miracle unlike that which I have seen. Beats the raining of blood and locust hordes. All I have to do is copy the moves on the board over into it and poof, it spits out the perfect moves for me" He replied.
He showed this to me on his flat device and my mind was just blown.
"Where did you come up with this? This is years ahead of our time" I asked.
"Well, it all happened when I noticed my stuff going missing. First my short sword, next my miniature army. I realized that someone was raiding my tomb! I decided enough was enough and went down to see who was doing this. When I reached, I saw three humans, all clad in black, blatantly removing my stuff. I shouted at them, chasing them away. One of the humans was holding on to this device and in his haste, dropped it on the ground. And poof, whatever is in my tomb, goes with me to the afterlife. That's how I came into possession of this!" He answered. | I love sleep so much. You have no idea, it is where I am truly at my bliss. But every time some fucking asshole breaks into my tomb, I wake up from whatever delightful dream I am having. At first was fine with letting it go. We have a saying in the afterlife, "Mortals will be mortals."
But this has been going on for far too long. My lamps, my cups, my furniture. Listen, I know I don't really use it anymore. And maybe just having it sit there while I sleep is a waste. But these cocks don't even ask. They just take. Like seriously, I wouldn't break into your house and steal all your shit, even if you had cool shit 21st century shit like microwaves and condoms.
Its time to leave the nest. It's time to remind these people why I was a Pharaoh. I get up out of the tomb. I get a good stretch in. Damn that feels good after laying there for thousands of years. I can hear joints pop and crack. My leg does that weird twitchy thing when you lay in bed for too long. You know what I'm talking about? That weird spasm? Anyways, it does that. I rub my hands together. Despite initially being a little cranky about having to get up from my slumber, I am actually a little stoked to try out my cool cursing powers. I haven't used them yet so I don't really know what is going to happen, but I'm sure it will be rad.
I climb out of the tomb and find a street. Things really are different. Cars and skyscrapers and so many other things I am overwhelmed. People looking down on their phones, but for some reason they are just looking at pictures of cats and girls in bikinis. I don't know how that relates to making a phone call but I don't question their futuristic ways.
"Watch it, buddy." A stranger bumps into me and keeps walking away. I am shocked by his rudeness. He bumped into me! How dare he imply it is my fault! Well he's an unfortunate man, because I just decided who gets my first super deluxe curse-a-roni. I rub my hands together excited and stretch my hand out in his direction.
"I curse you mortal!" A beam shoots out of my hand and hits him square in the back, knocking him over. I walk over, curious what is going to happen. As I get close, I see that his body is covered in giant bulbous welts. So gross. And they are getting bigger and you can see the puss that is sloshing around inside them. I start throwing up. Unfortunately I forgot to turn away so I just puke directly on this poor guy. Double whammy. The force of my puke bursts some of hit welts splashing juice everywhere. I puke again.
After I walk away, I find some water and rinse out of my mouth. I hate tasting my own stomach acid, its so gross. I decide that I don't want to use my powers again. I obviously don't have the stomach for it, and instead just head back to my tomb. I don't really know if I made much of a statement. And I doubt one random guy being covered in welts will stop people from raiding my tomb. But I suppose it is just stuff. | 2022-11-03T20:48:13 | 2022-11-03T19:38:12 | 30 | 18 |
[WP] Death is a supernatural being that can only see one person at any time, and he knows he must always kill that person.
Maybe why he feels he has to do it, or an example of him having to kill someone. | It's been an hour since William locked himself in the back of closet; his father's yelling has now been reduced to a barely audible whimper, but he still wouldn't take the chance of checking until he knew it was safe.
Still curiosity got the better of him and he cracked open the door the tiniest of bits. In the center of his room stood a woman he never seen before, she was beautiful but in a strange motherly fashion.
*"William"*
Her voice fluttered to his ears like a soft kiss, William slowly revealed himself from his hiding place.
The woman as if paying no attention to him, glided over to the cabinet at the side of his bed. She gracefully pick up a trading card and asked without turning around.
*"You seem to have an affliction with racing"*
William, who developed more confidence, spoke out "Yeah, my favorite is Dale Earnhardt, my dad has all his recorded races"
The woman smiled, *"I met him once, nice guy but a little hard-headed."*
"Who are you" William asked.
*"Who do you think I am?"*
"You're an angel"
Tear formed at her eyes, *"Yes, an angel."*
"Has God answered my prayers?"
*"No, he can not do as you asked"*
The child look down in disappointment.
*"But I can take you to her"*
"You know where my mom lives?"
*"Yes and it is a far away place where no one could ever get hurt"*
"I know where that is" William answered silently and took the woman's hand.
Meanwhile downstairs, a man who lost everything weeps.
"I swear I didn't mean to hit him that hard, I swear!" | "I get what you're pretending to be. But the intelligent 21st-century man doesn't adhere to such archaic beliefs. The Grim Reaper?!
^*pffft!*
As if I'd be scared of some plonkerwagger with ragged robes, and a rusty scythe. How do you expect me to believe that you can single-handedly cut down over 150,000 people each day?
Even if people where lining up to have there heads chopped, you'd have less than half a second to move to them, raise your scythe, cut off their head, wipe off the blood, and move onto the next person.
The whole thing's just way too inefficient. Maybe if you where lugging around a machine gun I could believe it, but tha--"
Death pointed the end of his scythe towards the rambling man.
^*rrrrrr-aaata-tat-tat-tat!* | 2014-03-23T01:09:03 | 2014-03-23T00:47:47 | 24 | 16 |
[WP] The Villain uncovers the Hero's true identity, and targets his family. Unfortunately, the Hero's spouse is a retired villain even more powerful than the current one. | Mallum knew only one thing in his eventful life. Villainy. The boy grew up with it. He was abandoned by his parents and the only thing that kept him alive when he was young was a villain taking him in. After years of training and experience he became a villain himself. He had no other choice. It was all he knew.
There was only one person now that prevented Mallum from doing his job. Captain Quantum. One could say she was a child star, doing heroics since young. The total opposite of himself. He had to admit that she was like something out of this world. Every time he tried to do something, it was her who was standing in his way. She was the only hero he could never seem to defeat. It meant he now had to take drastic measures to break her.
Heroes carried alternate identities to keep their families safe. Mallum stalked Captain Quantum for a little over two years. The woman was incredibly careful with her true identity. For a moment he even thought she was truly alone, but she had slipped once. That one time was all he needed to know everything.
Mallum sent his minions to wreak havoc two cities over. Something along the lines of a heist with hostages in his name that would surely keep Captain Quantum busy while he dealt with her family.
Using the shadows around him, he sunk into them using the darkness in the home to enter. If Captain Quantum had a security system he knew from experience a moving shadow would not trigger it. It hadn't the prior times he came in when they were gone to memorize the layout of the house. He would have to be quick in his endeavor. Taking out her wife before taking out their nine year old. Quick and painless. As he had done to plenty of others before.
"Gregory Stain."
The voice calling his true name made Mallum stop in his tracks. He uncovered himself from the shadows just as the woman turned on the lights of the living room. He had been caught, but that was the least of his worries. He knew that voice. Every time he had stalked Captain Quantum he never got a glimpse of her wife. Now he knew why. That woman had known all along of his plan.
"Nebula," he said, his voice filled with shock and an ounce of familiarity. Casey Stain. In reality neither of them had last names or ones that they remembered at least, but they were both raised by the same person. "I thought you were dead."
Nebula sat down on the couch, her vibrant green eyes never leaving his own.
"Yes, a cover. You can imagine why." She leaned forward, static building up around her. "I've been waiting for your arrival. What were you thinking? Just come in and kill a defenseless woman and child?"
Mallum snorted. "You're hardly defenseless," he countered.
She raised her brow at this. "Yet you didn't know it was me, did you?" Mallum stayed silent. The implication was there. He knew what she was getting at.
"I always thought that out of the two of us you would be the one turning a new leaf." Her hands were fidgeting as she stared him down. It wasn't nervousness, it was disappointment. "Yet here we are."
Mallum growled, he lunged forward but was left frozen just a step in front of Nebula. "You know nothing-"
"I know enough," she said, straining her throat to keep her voice level.
"You left me," he said, and Nebula suddenly heard the boy she uses to know. The one who wanted to raise a farm in the quiet outskirts of a city. It hurt to hear him now. "Dad was killed and I thought you were too. How could I not be what I am now?"
Nebula sighed. She stood, putting her hand against his cool cheek. The man looked older than he was. There were bags under his dark eyes, wrinkles on his forehead.
"You wouldn't have approved," she started. "You never did. You always thought it would always be just the two of us in this world. I couldn't handle that. I couldn't dare put Alice or Georgie in danger."
Mallum stayed quiet. For as angry as he was in that moment, he knew she was right. He tried to break free of her hold, but found it to only tighten in return.
"You can still do better." Nebula walked around him. "You can take on a new identity. Follow your dream. Leave all of this behind."
"I can't," he whispered. "It's all I know."
Nebula hugged Mallum from behind. Her restraints were gone, in their place was her soft embrace.
"That's not true and you know it. You're just scared. You don't have to be."
Mallum pulled away. He gathered shadows to his hand. They hardened into a spiky ball.
"Will you?" He left the rest unsaid. Could he still see her? Be with her? Spend time with her?
"No," said Nebula in a soft voice. "Not until you find yourself again, and that's something only you can do alone."
Mallum lowered his arm, the shadow weapon dissipated. "I see," he said. He looked towards the stairs. If he went up and into the first room to the left it would be the child's room. He had been so enveloped in finding a way to defeat Captain Quantum that he never stopped to see how low he was willing to go. Their father, Master Saber, had always taught them his way of being a villain. Rebelling for what was right that the general public could not see. If he knew of this... He would be severely disappointed. After all, Master Saber had died protecting innocent lives from a fellow villain. How could Mallum disrespect such a legacy?
"I'll be going." Mallum turned around, heading for the door.
"You can come back," came Nebula's voice. "Whenever you find yourself."
She approached him, but only enough that he could hear her voice but not feel her presence. "And until than, if any villain dares to step foot anywhere near my family again, well," she smiled. "Do let them know that being caught in a Nebula is a slow and painful death."
Mallum looked over his shoulder, but by than Nebula was gone and the lights were out. He looked at his hand where a piece of paper had been placed. It was for an animal sanctuary in the outskirts of his city. He gripped it with all the pain of the past years, with all the will to at least try and change. He had strayed too far. It was time.
Mallum once again made himself one with the shadows, and soon he was gone from the premises.
"That was a little harsh, wasn't it?"
Nebula jumped slightly from her place on the stairs. Her wife was behind her, a beaming smile on that stupid but lovely face of hers.
"Thought you were at Fae City," she said, looking at her with concern.
Alice shrugged. "Eh, my side kick has it under control so I returned. You know he's a good guy deep down. He never actually tried to hurt me. He's just in pain."
"Well, here's to hoping I can invite him for Georgies birthday next time," Nebula said with a fond smirk. "After all, I did get the whole 'redeem the villain' from you."
The both of them laughed softly as they ascended the stairs. Soon their city would have one less villain to be afraid of.
//Do let me know how I did! First time writing on reddit, and still trying to get the hang of writing in general. | Killer Calculator, a cyborg assassin with a peerless analytical mind and instincts so supernaturally honed that people suspected he was secretly magical and not technological at all…
...had buggered off. He’d ran away.
And so Betty Curoz, better known as Blastercaster (it was most definitely not her first choice) was wondering, not for the first or last time, if she’d miscalculated.
“She just crushed Crushmaster!” Carl wailed. “Crushing is supposed to be his *thing*!”
“Carl…”
“Like that’s horrible irony! It’s not how he’d want to go!”
“Carl!” Curoz shouted, “Shut the hell up and retreat to Site B. Take the others with you.”
“Oh, thank fuck. I mean… yes. We shall follow your commands.” He saluted and ran, or rather saluted while running. The remaining guards were all too happy to fall in after him.
Carl wasn’t a coward. He’d gone up against the likes of Vicebeam and Harold Hammer, and sure he’d lost but he’d not embarrassed himself either. But faced with the prospect of meeting Lady Lash? He’d been blubbering like a first-day henchman.
The warehouse door folded away, as did much of the surrounding wall. More from force of habit than anything else, Betty launched a bowling-ball sized blast at the intruder.
It orbited Lady Lash a few times, then dissipated, as if bashful.
“Hi Kate,” said Curoz. She felt a lump in her throat, and hoped it wasn’t something Kate had just put in there. “You can manipulate energy as well as matter? Neat trick.”
“You sent people to my house, Betty,” said Kate, ignoring the attempt at conversation.
Very, very bad sign. A chance to say “matter is energy” and she skipped it? Really bad sign. Oh, hell.
“The house that I live in,” Kate continued. “The house that I live in with my family.”
Lady Lash wasn’t wearing her old uniform, but truth be told she had never needed all those medieval spikes and scales to look scary. She glowed when she was angry, and all that armour had ever done was obscure it.
“You weren’t in any danger,” said Betty, looking around in case any particularly brave guards had stayed behind.
Kate was very bright right now, as if her skeleton was magma and her skin was glass. Her red hair still sat awkwardly on top, detracting from the look somewhat. Like a movie monster with a wig.
“My family, Betty,” Kate rumbled. “If you come after Apex, you’re coming after me. You don’t want to do that.”
Curoz tried another blast, and it fizzled out before it even left her hands. Something— a cable? A pipe?— flew out and clotheslined her, hurling her backwards and pinning her to the wall.
“You think I still care about that old rivalry?” Curoz gasped. “Have you forgotten how to use your brain cells the normal way? You’re a matter manipulator, and you hooked up with Apex Accelerator.”
“And?”
“And?” Curoz rolled her eyes. “Your limitation is your endurance. The peons never figured it out but you can only do this freaky shit for a couple of hours, can’t you? Maybe less now you’re getting old. But loverboy’s whole deal is, hah, how long he lasts. An infinite well of energy to tap into. Of course I don’t need to talk to you about tapping hhhrrghmf...”
The wall animated, pressing against the sides of Curoz’s head, tendrils of brick meaningfully gripping her jaw. “You’re talking about my kids,” Kate growled, the light within her almost white now. Little arcs of electricity danced across her skin, dramatically popping and crackling. “You went after my kids.”
“Not what you… pah!” Curoz leaned away from the grasping brick, spitting dust. “Not what you think! I was trying to force an Awakening! Swear to god!”
“Which god?”
“Any that’d stop you from making me eat this fucking wall!”
Kate flexed a hand. The wall pulsed and spat Curoz out, with far more force than was necessary.
“Start talking.”
“Talk?! I would’ve if you hadn’t shoved a brick in my—”
The floor sprouted tentacles. Spearlike, sinuous living earth that turned towards Curoz like a nest of attentive snakes.
“—the Guild is rounding up candidates,” Curoz said quickly. “Your kids are going to end up in some fucked-up secret lab underground or in space if they can’t defend themselves. And before you say that an Awakening would make the twins a target, they’re already targets because you and your husband are two of the heaviest hitters on the planet, you dipshit.”
“I wasn’t going to say that,” Kate said truthfully, “because I have no idea what an Awakening is.”
Curoz had been surprisingly calm up until this point, all things considered. Now her face was an uneasy battlefield between bewildered and furious.
“You’ve got fucking superpowers!” Curoz yelled, furious winning out. “Same as me!”
“What? I thought you were born with yours too.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, sis. You’re saying you were a magic baby?! I couldn’t fire psi blasts until I was thirteen!”
“Maybe you just didn’t try hard enough.”
“Oh, fuck off! If you’re trying to be funny right now—”
“She’s not,” said a very sonorous voice, with just a hint of static. “She’s dreadfully serious, as ever.”
Kate spun around, the floor-tentacles an extension of her body… and so they, too, reached for the ceiling as the two sisters saw the new arrivals and put their hands in the air.
“Very, very wise,” said Killer Calculator. “Mighty as you both may be, a stray shot is virtually guaranteed to maim you in such close quarters.”
There were already a dozen Guild troopers standing by him, with more still streaming in through the warehouse's collapsed wall. Pale uniforms with featureless helmets, a stark contrast to the garish gold skull that adorned Killer Calculator’s mask.
“Now, be a dear, dismiss those tentacles.” The cyborg made a vague gesture, as if Kate was a guest putting her feet on his good furniture. “These Guild chaps get twitchy.”
Kate fought the impulse to fight and let the constructs melt away. “You do realise that I cannot be contained, Calculator. I’ll break out of any facility you put me in.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it.” Killer Calculator lifted up his gold mask... and Apex Accelerator winked. | 2020-07-19T04:54:10 | 2020-07-19T03:47:18 | 29 | 16 |
[WP] You’re a dragon who kidnapped a prince/princess. All is going to plan but… it’s been a month and no one’s come to save them. | A month.
A month with no knights, no squires, not even a fresh-faced youth with weird hair and an abnormally large greatsword. Enhazat furrowed a scaly brow. Was this not how it was supposed to go?
Step 1. Kidnap the crown princess.
Step 2. Escape to lair with prize.
Step 3. Knights come, they fight, the princess is saved...or not. Maybe she's ransomed.
Step 4. Repeat for untold generations.
It was tradition. It was his blood. It was their blood. It happened every generation, with such consistency that it was nearly a rite of passage for nobility in the kingdom to be borne away by a scaled, clawed avatar of fury! Some kingdoms even had it as part of a wedding ceremony. Kept the military sharp, kept the legends fresh. He didn't like it but by the gods there were worse traditions.
Enhazat had not been an ungracious host. Not like those brutes the next kingdom over. No. His princess was kept in a locked vault of stained glass and comfort, albeit thousands off feet up a sheer bluff which bottimed out into spiky rocks and crashing waves. Princess Agora was equally concerned.
"Dragon?" Her voice, filled with fury, fear and defiance those first few days of captivity, now had a weary tone.
"My name is Enhazat, for the thirtieth time, human." The dragon lifted a blue, raptorlike head, ivory horns glinting in the light of the crystals which lit his lair.
"Why do you suppose no one has come?"
The question showed her concern was equal to his. This...for lack of a better word, game, had gone in a cycle. There were rules. He expected adventurers or the captain of the guard to beat down his proverbial front door hours after thr kidnapping. His ridged brows furrowed, reptilian eyes thinking. Something was wrong. Three hundred years of following his intuition hadn't failed him yet...
"Can I trust you to stay put while I check? Truth be told, this vexes me as much as it vexes you. This tradition we share is...awkward when one side doesn't show up to do their part."
She nodded. The "chain" as it were, was the best he could make or find: a sphere of sapphire the size of a man's head kept her magically tethered to the Lair. She was free to wander, but not leave.
Wings like cobalt glass lifted and caught the rays of the Sun, and Enhazat felt the wind on his snout once more.
And...something else. Carrion. Smoke. Lots of smoke. Being a fire-breather, he had become something of a sommelier of smoke.
This was driftwood and...human flesh. As he cleared the mountains and swept low over the castle city, the sight he beheld provided the answer he and Agora both sought: the bloated, half rotten cadavers of her parents in hanging cages in the town square. Guards and flags in a different livery. He recognized it as one of the city guildmaster's. Pyres of corpses, mostly the old guard. Citizens in chains. Things that turned his ancient stomach. It seemed his kidnapping had been a rescue, though neither one realized it. He pulled up before reaching ballista range and turned back homeward.
Of course, there was anguish when he returned. Anguish and renewed fury. A fury he respected. Someone had broken the rules of the game. Someone needed to make things right.
"Wring your tears and steel yourself, human. We mourn your family tonight, but tomorrow I will begin to teach you how to fight like a dragon." | I wake to the sun rising in the sky. It’s been one full month now since I kidnapped Princess Mabel from her castle. I yawn deeply and look to the hillside from which I knew her castle resided. Still no sign of any life from the area. I shake my head and trudge closer to the tower I had her trapped in. I knocked a knuckle gently on her door.
“Mabel? I’m sorry for disturbing you, but I had to let you know… it’s been a month and I still see no one coming,” I said gently. Mabel threw open her door and looked towards the hillside. She shook her head.
“I thought you said this plan would work!” She said exasperated. I nodded and lowered my head to her. She reached out a hand and placed it on my snout.
“I thought it would, sweetheart but no one is coming. In all my years they always come. I’ve done this for numerous princesses,” I admitted. She climbed onto my back and I carried her to the top of the tower where I could perch and watch the hillside, and she could sit and read comfortably. It’s been thousands of years, and every year I kidnap a princess from a new castle to help her find a husband. Within two weeks at least one knight, whether rejected by the Princess or accepted, shows. But this year is different.
“Mabel, I have to ask. Is your father a nice man, or cruel?” I ask her, curling my tail around the tower. I look down to her and see her holding her favorite book, Sleeping Beauty. She shakes her head.
“Neither. I never see him so I don’t know,” She told me turning to the first page. I lower my head.
“Strange. Usually it’s the fathers that order the rescue. Tell me, do you not fear me?” I asked. She shook her head.
“Not at all. I know you just want the kingdoms to prosper and this is your way of helping. I’m an only child, and the kingdom needs an heir,” she told me. I looked at her in awe.
“You’ve read the legends? I thought those books were destroyed ages ago,” I told her. She laughed.
“You don’t understand how legends work do you? If just one person remembers the book, regardless of if it is destroyed, stories get passed down from mouth to mouth. Anyway, do you still not see anyone coming?” She asked. I gazed out across the fields. I watched rabbits hop past, sheep frolicking in their pens, and even a wolf stalk a rabbit. But no sign of horses or men. I shake my head sadly.
“Clear as can be sweetheart. I’m sorry. Do you want a cake tonight to celebrate a month of being here?” I asked her. She nodded gleefully. I smile at her and turn to go buy one from the nearby village. I haven’t had company in my tower for nearly this long. At least some good comes of this unfortunate situation. | 2022-11-24T16:05:41 | 2022-11-24T13:33:02 | 31 | 22 |
[WP] You were born with the ability to see the number of lives a person has taken. Even legendary soldiers and serial killers rarely make it to triple digits. The person you just met has a lot more than three digits above their head, though. | I met Mr. 58,609, or as he called himself, Joe, at a brewery. I'd had the gift to see the deaths caused by people since I was born, and I'd become astute at reading the faces of those with numbers other than zero. I'd never met anyone with a number above ten who I couldn't read it in their eyes, even without the gift. Hallowed, pained and drinking themselves to death as often as not.
But Joe was jovial. He pulled that whole section of the brewery into a friendly conversation as we each sampled their barrel aged bourbon stout. The number was just too big for me to make sense, and it was out of place on his friendly, if average, middle aged face.
I probably should have been afraid, but curiosity got the better of me. What good was my gift if I didn't use it to understand a man who could kill that many people and be untouched by it.
"What do you do, Joe?" I asked.
"Oh, my boy, I got the best job in the world. I work for the Department of Health and Human Services, and every day I look through the books and find useless and outdated regulations. And just like that-- after a year of red tape --away they go. So now we can get new drugs to market faster, and help people without all that paperwork and useless record keeping." He took a sip from his taster beer. "I sleep like a baby at night knowing how many lives me and my people are saving." | The world had changed. Water was in short supply, wages were lower than ever and the rich still had a strangle hold over governments of the world. So much had changed in a decade. Flicking through channels trying to stay cool and hope I can afford the powder bill. Last year I used the air conditioner too much, had to get a second job... Hey, I didn't die of heat stroke at least.
I pause, our ex prime minister, fuck knuckle Scomo is on television. I do a double take, the number over his head is something I struggle to comprehend. I think about his time as 'leader of our country.
I turn off the television and wonder how we got here and cry. | 2020-01-11T23:52:41 | 2020-01-11T19:41:31 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] The eldritch god stood before the girl, in almost human form. "Your parents sold you to be my bride. I accepted, knowing that if I don't they will just try another deity, but I will not force this on you. Have this credit card and live as you wish. If you want something else instead, just ask." | The man, or what could potentially be considered a man, stood stiffly in front of the girl, smoothing the lapel of his velvet suit jacket with a long, bony finger.
"Your parents sold you to me, as a...bride," he said. One could call his expression pained, though there were no muscles attached to his skeletal face. His voice was tired and seemed to emanate from everywhere as he shifted from one foot to the other, and fiddled with his gray pocket square.
All that the girl could register as she gazed up at the man was a smooth skull, pearly white, surrounded by dark, smoky tendrils. It occurred to her that she should probably be frightened, as she stood before a massive skeleton, dressed for a fancy dinner, oozing what looked like pure shadow from every crevice. His eyes were empty pits, made darker still by his eldritch magic that flowed out and around his body. And yet, somehow, all she felt was curiosity. She'd truly seen worse, as far as monsters went.
"How old are you?" The girl asked. She looked at her feet. Her new shoes had scuff marks on them from being dragged to the foot of the sacrificial altar by her mother just minutes prior.
"I am older than the sun, the moon, and the stars, if that gives you an idea," Death said evenly.
"I'm eleven," the girl said. Death cringed internally. "And my name is Kit."
"Hello, Kit. My name is..." Death faltered, trying to think of a name that wouldn't frighten the child.
"My name is...it's...Ender. And I just want to make clear, we're not married. Your parents weren't going to stop offering your soul to the ancient gods until someone stepped up and paid your...your bride price. So I put a stop to it. I hope that's okay."
Kit looked up at the god and nodded. She was trying not to cry, Death noticed. She'd been through this process a few times already and been turned down by the other gods. He'd have to have a word with them.
"I'm starting to get it. Thanks, Ender. I don't think my mom wanted me around anymore. It didn't matter where I went, right?"
Death felt anger boiling inside his skull. Kit didn't seem like a bad kid in the slightest. He would have sensed it, given the fact that he was the judge, jury and executioner of who lived and died in this realm. The actions of her parents made him seethe.
"If you want, we can smite her from this plane of existence," Death quipped.
"Does that mean killing her?" Kit whispered.
"It can."
"I...I don't think I want to do that, but maybe something else would be good..."
And that was how Death incarnate, shepherd of wayward souls, got roped into the endless, childish pranks of an eleven year old girl.
He'd never felt so alive. | "Huh. Cool." I said, looking at the card. "No catch or anything? Immortal beings like this usually have some sort of catch."
The figure, who called themselves Xaltior, shrugged their shoulders. They looked pretty normal, but you couldn't look at any part of them for more than a minute without your head spinning. I settled with looking just over their shoulder. "Well, you will have to pretend to be dead to anyone you've known, because, you know, you're supposed to be dead, but that card should be enough to set you up with a new life somewhere else." They looked at me, puzzled. "Honestly, though, I'm surprised you're not insane yet. Even in this form, people go mad from looking at me too much. You might be part-eldritch yourself, and I have a DNA test I can recommend."
"I wouldn't be surprised. I've never felt fully at home with...just other people in general, but 'normal' people are worse. Is there anyway I can talk to you again?" I told them.
Xaltior pulled out a business card reading "Xaltior, Founding Member of EGI" with a phone number. "Just call that number when you want to talk. Also EGI is Eldritch Gods Interdimensional, just so you know."
"Okay. Talk to you later maybe?" I said, starting to walk away, but turning around quickly, I added, "At least this should turn out better than Eros and Psyche."
"The Greek ones right? Yeah, I don't know why they did that. Now we get stuff like this." they said, gesturing at the space between us. "But talk later, maybe." Xaltior winked, then disappeared.
Looking down at my hand, I saw a jagged script write a website across the back of my hand as I realized that they hadn't told me the DNA kit, and that this must be it. Now that I apparently had a eldritch credit card, a eldritch DNA test was the perfect first thing to spend it on. | 2022-08-09T18:52:48 | 2022-08-09T17:31:24 | 285 | 55 |
[WP] You posses the power to decide the outcome of any coin toss, you are regarded as one of the weakest Gods to exist, but unbeknownst to everyone you have been changing the fate of the world one coin flip at a time... | It was finally time. I'd been working towards this goal since the beginning. From the very start of it all.
I'll let you in on a little secret. One that most Gods and Goddesses keep as close to them as their very hearts.
God's are not are not born, they are created. They are created by deeds that effect the world, nay, the universe so profoundly as to launch the very being who committed it into eternity. They continue to exist on the back of that deed forever, or until it is forgotten. The first person to invent farming is still a living, active God, simply because people need food. Gods of War still exist because War still exists. The power of the god depends on the magnitude of the change. The God of Surgery is still quite powerful, because surgery is still a commonly used medical practice, while the God Of Blood Letting isn't so powerful anymore.
Suffice to say, there are lot's and lot's of Gods and Goddesses.
I am one of them. Though, if you were to ask most, only in name.
I am a God of Chance. I control probability. More Specifically, I am the God Of Flipped Coins. That's right, I was the first person to flip a coin. In fact, I flipped the very first coin.
I can manipulate Probability in most situations to an extent, but I gain absolute power in the event of a Flipped Coin.
You'd be surprised how much power a Coin Flip has. At the number of lives made and destroyed on a Coin Flip. The number of choices that impact hundreds of thousands or more of lives made by flipping a coin.
I control them all. Every decision made by a coin flip was a decision I made. Not just yes or no either. See, most people see flipping a coin as 50/50, but it's not. There are more than two outcomes. I won't go through all of them, but the most obvious one is the coin landing on it's edge.
Most other Deities laugh at my power, but they don't know, Mine is the power to shape the Universe.
And my power is special. See, I *invented* the coin. Unlike many others, who simply used pre-existing things in new ways, I **created** my Godhood, and so I have near absolute power, and that means I have a power that most Deities do not.
My power works on other Gods.
And for millenia, I've been leading the world. shaping it, and tonight, it all comes together, Tonight...I will rule the Gods. | I’m a villain. I’m not sure if I’m born like this or became one later. My farthest memory goes back to time when I was chained to wall. I was young and didn’t know why people were yelling at me and saying ‘You are the one’.
My feelings were empty I simply didn’t feel anything. There was no fear or any hindrance that might distract me. I was immune to their intimidation.
The room was fairly small and there was only a few people around me. They were discussing things and time to time they were gazing at me. There was also small boy, he wasn’t looking at me. Then, I realised all the people in the room wasn’t aware of that boy. Somehow, I was the only one who could see that boy.
Moments later, I've heard very loud scream and room’s stone door slowly opened. People inside of the room were terrified to death. One of them pulled his dagger stepped into darkness. There was a moment of silence then sound of splash. Other two people were looking each other and boy in the room was missing. I was still calm and I've waited someone to come out from that dark void.
Finally I saw the ‘Lust’. She was painted with blood which was dripping on a floor from her hands. She gazed at the people in the room and that two people started to eat each other like cannibals. They didn’t stop until they bled out.
I could feel her breath on my face. She asked me if I’m desiring her more or less. Then, she gave me a coin that looked very ancient and she made me toss it.
She whispered at my ears ‘You are back, my little prince.’
**Please don't mind any writing or grammar mistakes, I'm not a native speaker**
| 2018-04-15T07:39:41 | 2018-04-15T03:58:48 | 240 | 37 |
[WP] It's been 3 years since you were first stranded on this island. One morning, you awake in your shelter to the unmistakable melody of the default iPhone ringtone, coming from somewhere within the forest. | Dun del un dun, dun, dun. I'd given up a long time ago that any phone wasn't waterlogged and destroyed, or at least out of juice. Dun del un dun, dun, dun. I hadn't heard a sound like that in... in a very long time. It was beautiful. The sound of angels, of light breaking through the clouds, the voice of God in all of its tinny glory. A phone. A FUCKING phone!!! I didn't even think I had signal. I leap to my feet, bellow "I'M COMIN FREEDOM!!!!" and practically dove into the jungle searching for the sound. Dun del un dun, dun, dun. Maybe I was just going mad. But maybe, just maybe, the key to getting out of my terrible fucking life would present itself to me like a beautiful- Dun del un dun, dun, dun. The sound echoes again, but this time it seemed to be coming from above. I looked up to see a grisly sight. A man, skewered on a tree branch, his phone still in his pants pocket, ringing its happy tune. Now I've seen a few bodies on the island. But most of them aren't fresh. Or skewered in trees. Hell he looked almost alive, except for the fact the branch had gone straight through his chest and messed up his stomach pretty good. I threw up. A lot. And then the smell hit me and I nearly gave up on that goddamned phone. I searched the nearby area for anything he could have dropped, but found nothing except a wary parrot that had flown down from the tree. If only I had wings goddamnit. The tree was around three times my height and he was up pretty high, so I doubted my ability to get the phone down without it breaking. I also doubted my ability to climb the tree. A lot. At this point I'm pretty sure the call had gone to voicemail, which might be for the better. The less stuff the phone did the less battery it used up. I think. I was never very good at techie stuff, always had issues with the microwave. I'd die for a microwave now. Anyway, ideas. I could try and build a ladder, but I wasn't that great with my hands, as the only tool I have is a "spear" which is just a sharp stick. It's always easier in the goddamn movies. I mean shit they all seem to build a fuckin raft and just get away. Meanwhile it took me far too long to even get fire under my belt. Wait, fire! Wait no that's a stupid plan, I don't want to add forest fire to my list of problems. I could throw the spear and hope for the best? And then I saw my salvation. The branch that the guy is skewered on looks like anything could have broken it. I threw my stick. The branch makes a sickening creaking noise, then smashes into the ground with a loud thud and a slightly quieter wetter thud. It also stirred up the scent (and the parrot) and I threw the rest of my lunch up. On closer inspection, the man appears to be military and is very, very dead, but does have a firearm. I grab the phone and the gun quickly, like they might disappear before me. No juice. The parrot flutters down and stares at me. "Dun del un dun, dun" the parrot squawks. | Moe ran his fingers through the dog’s coarse coat. It had been a good day. He had caught two fish with his spear, patched the leaky roof of his shelter and then spent the rest of it playing with Dingo. That’s what he had called the once wild dog. As he caressed the dog’s golden fur he thought back to when they first met. Late one night he had finally been able to build fire and was toasting the first fish he had ever speared. Weeks of grueling work that had brought results and a reprieve from hopelessness. The wild dog crept to the edge of the camp and he threw him fish skin. The routine continued for a week till the dog was finally within arm’s reach. He petted the dog’s head, their bond solidified.
The first few days after shipwreck he had scaled the tall cliffs and peered down at the rocks longingly. Now the thought made him shudder. Gradually hope had crept back in. Every day was better than the last. The old world began to fall away, though not completely. He thought back to his friends, his family, back to her. But their voices began to fade, their faces. Some days he strained to remember, others he let go. He found beauty in this simple life. He grew to enjoy the solitude.
He scratched Dingo behind the ears as the dog let out a satisfied sigh. Dingo laid beside him in the bamboo shelter. The fire a few feet away was slowly dying. Moe and Dingo drifted off to sleep.
*Ring. Ring. Ring.*
Moe woke up bleary eyed, thinking he heard a phone ringing in his dream. He heard the ringing again. He jumped to his feet. Dingo sprang up and barked.
Running into the bush towards the ringing he collapsed onto his knees and grabbed the phone.
*Slide to answer*.
In a fraction of a second the peace he had built up over months, years was shattered. People, civilization; the craving welled up in the pit of his stomach. He steadied his trembling hand and swiped.
“H-hello,” Moe stuttered, his own voice sounding like a strangers.
“Cześć, kto to?”
“English. Do you speak English?”
“Gdzie jest Jerzy? Kto to jest? Jerzy?”
---
r/SerializedFiction
[Crossposted](https://steemit.com/story/@cizzo/stranded-short-story) on [Steemit](https://steemit.com/@cizzo)
| 2017-09-29T08:22:19 | 2017-09-29T08:18:48 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] As a child you promised the Elf Prince your hand in marriage in a dream. You’re now 28, working an office job and planning a wedding to your high school boyfriend. Things are going well until the Elf Prince appears. | "You can go fuck right off."
The breathtakingly handsome being before her drew back in surprise. "Sunshine, it's me. Your prince. Do you not remember me?"
"Oh, I remember you." Erin glared at him and pointed the knife at him in a vaguely threatening way, one hand still on the carrots she'd been slicing when he "poofed" into her kitchen. "And don't call me that."
He eyed the knife warily. "I'm not sure where this attitude is coming from," he paused when she snorted, and continued slowly, "but I've come to take you home now. We are to be married in a fortnight, and you will be at my side as I rule over my kingdom."
She turned her back on him and silently returned to slicing carrots. After interminable silence he gathered the nerve to try again. "You won't need to pack anything, I will give you everything your heart des-"
"How old are you?" she asked over her shoulder.
He drew himself up proudly. "I am immortal and endless. I was born to the purest of royal blood thousands of yea-"
"That's what I thought." After a particularly vicious chop, Erin slid the carrots off to the side and began to attack the bell peppers. "Fuck off."
He was getting annoyed now. "You swore your hand to me. Humans might not honor their word, but *elf* oaths are not to be taken lightly. You *will* come with me, and we *will* get married, as you promised." He softened a little and came up behind her, setting his hands on the counter-top on either side of her to box her in with his slim body. "Don't you remember how much fun we always had? How good it was? We were so in love. Come back to me, sunshine." He dipped his head and nuzzled along her neck, just the way she always liked.
*Thunk.*
"WHAT THE FUCK, WOMAN?"
She yanked her knife out of his hand and spun around. With her free hand she shoved him backwards.
"DO. NOT. CALL ME THAT."
"YOU ARE OUT OF YOUR MIND!" He cradled his injured hand to his chest, glittery silver blood oozing from the wound.
"*You* are out of your mind if you think that you can just..." she waved the knife around and he flinched "groom a child in her *dreams* to fall absolutely in love with you, *abandon* her once you get what you want, and then show up after a few *decades* expecting her to still be in love with your dusty ass!"
"I didn't abandon you!"
She threw back her head and laughed. It was not a heart-warming sight. "Oh, right, I forgot that you sent your *pet* to watch over me. Not even your favorite pet! One of the new runty pups! Yeah, well guess how well that turned out?"
He sighed. His hand having already healed, he ran it through his hair distractedly. "It was not supposed to reveal itself to you. I merely wanted to keep watch over you-"
"Spy on me."
"-until you were of age to marry-"
"Fuck."
"-and to keep you protected you from harm."
"And be a total cockblock."
His jaw hung agape for a moment before he composed himself. "I'm not sure what that means." he admitted sheepishly.
"It means that Jace scared off all of my potential boyfriends until we graduated, and then he followed me to college and bloomed into a giant Hellhoundy lump of sulk until I finally convinced him to date me if he hated all my other dates so much."
The elf narrowed his eyes at her. "You *named* it?"
She looked down at the knife in disgust before tossing it into the sink with a clatter. She put two fingers into her mouth and whistled loudly. There was a *thump* from somewhere deep in the house, followed by heavy footfalls approaching the kitchen. The elf prince drew back in alarm. "You *kept* it?"
An enormous man squeezed past the elf into the kitchen. He greeted Erin with a kiss on the forehead and looked over the cutting board approvingly. "Thanks, babe. Appreciate it. Can you grab the wok for me?" He bustled around the kitchen, gathering ingredients, while Erin ducked under him and grabbed a large pan from a cupboard. Finally, he looked back at the stunned elf.
"Hi man. Long time, no see. You staying or going? It's stir-Friday."
"He's going." Erin looked at the sink, where the knife still lay, and then back at the prince pointedly.
"I'm going." He admitted weakly.
"DATE A FREAKING ADULT." was the last thing he heard her yell as he portaled back home. | Eddie liked his office job. Yeah, the pay wasn't as good as it could be, and for now he was a lowly gofer, running errands the higher ups didn't have time or the inclination to do themselves. Plus, it meant he had to do the mail run, and there were a number of cute co-workers he got to chat with that otherwise, he'd be far too shy around.
His three favorites were Dave in Accounting, who had a very nice dad bod, Christine in Legal, who had a rack on her that Dolly Parton would be proud of, and Jill, the senior secretary to the CFO. She had a warm smile, and made the best cookies and brownies for the office to share in mandatory meetings.
He was spoken for, however. He had a boyfriend, Samuel, that he'd met in high school. They tried keeping it a secret, but it was the worst kept secret in the school. Many people said they made the perfect couple, and Eddie couldn't imagine a life without Sam. Eddie had often told Sam the tales of him running around with an elf in his dreams, and the both had a good laugh.
Sam smiled. "I'd like to meet this elf one day if he ever does show up. He seems like a fun guy!"
"If he ever does, I'll invite him for dinner."
One day, Eddie was at the copier, running some flyers for the next employee retreat event when he spotted Jandor across the hall. No. No way. This had to be a daydream of some sort. Eddie clearly remembered his childhood where in dreams he would run through fields of flowers and grass, playing with his imaginary elven friend. They laughed and joked, and Eddie had even promised his hand in marriage to the Prince. Even in his youth he'd been attracted to both sexes, so it was perfectly fine in his mind.
Jandor leaned against the wall of one of the cubicles. His blond, wavy hair stretching down to his lower back, but over the pointed eartips in an attempt to at least try to be subtle. Jandor was dressed head to toe in leather, pale blue eyes staring at Eddie as he walked closer.
"It's time, my old friend. In order to complete my ascension to King, I must be wedded. You gave me your word, long ago, and now I am here to collect on that promise."
Eddie looked shocked. "Jandor! What are you doing here? You can't just walk into my workplace! Isn't there a better time you could have arrived? Besides...that was all for fun. I have a fiance now. And he's the love of my life!"
"Oh Eddie...as usual, you don't grasp the bigger picture, but that's one of the things I came to love about you. You see, nothing in the Elven laws say I can have only one mate. I'm inviting you AND Sam to come be mine. If you'll both have me."
Thinking about it, Eddie offered to have Jandor come to dinner that night. The elf agreed, and excused himself until then. The poor boy continued his workday, seeming out of sorts, and more than a few co-workers commented on it, but he just laughed it off, saying it was wedding jitters.
That evening, Eddie got home and told Sam that Jandor was coming to visit. They were both excited, and cooked up a wonderful meal, just setting the table when the Elf appeared among them. They chatted throughout dinner, Jandor answering questions from the pair.
At long last, the meal ended and it was agreed. Eddie called in to work, quitting his job. The couple made their arrangements and Jandor teleported them all to the Elven realm, where they became a royal throuple, ruling with wisdom and mercy for years. | 2020-03-11T12:54:02 | 2020-03-11T10:47:31 | 132 | 39 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | "Your Holiness, they cannot be trusted!" Chancellor Vyx said with a raised voice, not daring to allow any menace or anger come through as he addressed his liege. "*My dearest Vyx, do you not see? There truly is no other way.*". Empress Yllant spoke into Vyx's mind. "I know my empress, I know... but I fear that if the Gaunt aren't our downfall, then the humans will be once they've wiped the Gaunt from our systems".
Empress Yllant stood, softly swaying back and forth, her large eyes closed and her pale grey skin softly reflecting the myriad of lights illuminating the counsel chambers. It gave her a slightly blue hue, one that could only be overpowered by the colors of her deep and bright cerulean eyes.
After a moment of thought, she mentally spoke again. "*The humans are indeed a vicious and dreadful race. They war with one another over the worst of things: resources, religion, substance, power. That is why they are perfect for us. They've spent the past 4 millenia at war. Perfecting and expanding on its art. Their greatest technological breakthroughs have almost exclusively had war as the primary use. But, they are also progressive in ways we do not understand. They are capable of ceasing their warring on a whim, and turning enemies into allies. They are capable of strong devotion and loyalty to one another, especially if the relationship is mutually beneficial. That, my dear Vyx, is why they will aid us. We will provide them with the ability to traverse the stars unimpeded, in exchange for their gifts of war.*"
"My empress, if we give the humans the ability to travel as we do, where will they turn once they've sucked the surrounding systems dry? You and I both know their history on planet colonization. They barely reached the 4th planet of Sol, and it's a barren wasteland. They had absolutely minimal success at colonizing it, and if you recall, ultimately had to abandon the notion all together. What will they do when they see Ortga, with its lush forest and waterways? The pristine and abundant sources of oxygen? Or what about Ghendo? It has more precious metal and fuel sources than we can accurately catalog, and we've been at that task for nearly 900 cycles. They will see what we have, they will take, and they will us it for further war. It's what they do. However..." Vyx wiped rust colored sweat from his brow "If you will it, it shall be done, in your most holy name. I have my concerns, my dreads.... my fears... but I will not question your judgement. I will dispatch envoys immediately. You are correct about all." Vyx turned to leave the counsel chambers as she invaded his mind once more. "*Ensure that they are adequately enticed Vyx. The Gaunt are not like the humans after all. Even for humanity, they will provide a sporting challenge. Both sides will stand to lose much, with greater to gain if they win.*"
A smile crept up on Vyx's thin black lips. "Off course, your Holiness. It will simply be a matter of 'informing' the humans that if we fall, the Gaunt will see the Sol system as their next target. They are always so eager to fight, they surely will not chance an invasion of Terra."
"*Vyx, are you planning to outright lie to them? In my name no less?*"
"I will do what is necessary your Holiness, to ensure they cooperate in a manner you are pleased with".
Empress Yllant opened her eyes and spoke aloud. "You're already thinking like one, Vyx. You serve me well". | "Finally, those damned Cetaceans and their ridiculous cylindrical vessels have decided to share the secrets of FTL travel." Admiral James T Kahn sat confidently on the bridge of the newly christened flagship of the Earth Space Superiority services.
Soon, it would be engaged in battle with Rodentia. "They think they are so smart" thought Kahn,but quickly his thoughts turned to snapping their little necks. The insidious weapons designed to suddenly trap their enemies had been designed eons ago. Now, they would be put to the ultimate test.
Of course, the humans weren't entirely without mercy, in the hold they had tons of emergency food and other supplies for their new allies. Just as predictably, the nets contained in the secondary hold would be useful for AFTER the main battle.
The Earth fleet arrived at the Cetacean home system just in time. The Rodentian forces were close to final victory. Quickly, the weapons of mouse destruction they had brought with them were deployed. Soon, the sounds of snapping necks and cries of "42" filled the air. Kahn smiled and thought to himself, "Behold, the power of cheese". The secret had been obvious all along.
He gave a nod to the load master, indicating it was time to deliver the emergency supplies in the hold. Tons of food were quickly delivered.
A short time later, the relief in the squeaks, squeals, chirps and whistles coming from the Cetaceans was obvious even if the computer translation was slow to provide the final translation. They seemed excited and happy.
Admiral Kahn, smiled. Soon the humans would reap the tasty morsels they desired from the Cetacean homeworld. That's where the nets came in. "Chicken of the Sea" would be on the menu all they way back home.
Suddenly, a shrill cry came from the Cetaceans and all the power on Kahn's ship was lost. Their weapons, their defenses all offline. What was going on. The Cetacean attack was decisive and the humans defenseless.
Kahn was stunned, if they had this kind of power, what did they need the humans for? The Cetaceans knew of course. The power source the Rodentia used were immune to their power draining weapons. They used a subclass, cousins really, of their own species. Thousands of them, running on gigantic wheels to power their ships and weapons. But all that was in the past, the humans had done their job.
The end came swiftly for Kahn. The arrogant smirk removed from his face. As his beautiful flagship burned around him, he saw the final salvo from the Cetaceans.
Suddenly, a loud beeping sound came from his right. He turned his head just before the final strike to see.
As Kahn looked toward the comm system, he saw the translation of the earlier message from the Cetaceans, "So long and thanks for all the fish". | 2016-05-13T06:52:32 | 2016-05-13T06:26:32 | 31 | 21 |
[WP] You, a mad scientist, never expected to successfully procreate. Realising you have no idea how to raise a vaguely normal human being, you dust off your time machine, go forward in time to see what they turn out to be, determine problem areas, and how to raise them in future. | Sweat dripped from my brow as I waited for a clump of cells suspended in a tank to show the first signs of a heartbeat. The flat line on the monitor jumped into the familiar peak and valley, then pulsed again, and again. My chest felt filled with elation as the beat settled into a regular rhythm. Not wasting any time to admire the miracle of life, I swiveled around to gaze into the Magic Mirror.
Working the quirky and intricate controls, I managed to set the device to show me this house five years in the future. On the screen, a child toddled into my arms and we headed out the door. The sequence followed us to a nearby park, where, apparently, the clone was socializing with the other children. *Excellent,* I thought. *It cannot execute its purpose without charisma to charm the masses.*
As I fiddled with the Magic Mirror, the world’s wealthiest and most influential people met in private conference rooms and shadowy, upscale restaurants around the world to discuss current events and ensure everything worked out to their favor. Corruption spread like a plague, but so did something else. Nanobots leaped from hand to hand and came to live and replicate, undetected, in every new host’s brain.
Back on the Magic Mirror, I watched my clone develop. I saw myself reading to it from library books in the evenings. *Wonderful,* I thought. *It cannot realize my plans without role models to follow.* In one sequence, I dropped the clone off at an afterschool art class and it came home to show me the painting it made, which we framed and hung in the living room. *Perfect,* I purred to myself. *Even with the instructions I will leave, it will need a creative and resourceful mind to deal with the challenges inevitable to any attempt at world domination.*
I gleefully fast-forwarded to watch my plot come to fruition. As the clone entered manhood, girls became a facet of many sequences. *I suppose that’s a natural side effect of the characteristics necessary for its role,* I told myself. Then, I saw myself embracing the sobbing clone and comforting it after a breakup. As I watched it rest its head on my shoulder, an unexpected tear came to my eye. Wiping it away, I hurried past the following decade or so.
Sitting in a tent surrounded by jungle and dressed in a military uniform, the clone read a letter and clutched it to its chest. My breath caught in my throat. *What if he gets hurt?*
I immediately admonished myself for personifying it. *If it dies at that age, it’ll be too late to make another one. I’ll have to freeze a few embryos and somehow find the resources to raise a few backups along the way.*
When the clone returned from its deployment, I saw it stoop to pick up a child while a joyful young woman looked on. *This can only be a distraction,* I worried. *How could I let this happen? Do I die young?*
In another sequence, the sight of my aging self dispelled my fear, although at first I did not understand why I, like the clone, stooped to pick up its child and proceeded to play with it, to no apparent end. Frustrated, I turned my attention away from the Magic Mirror back to the clump of cells and its little heartbeat. As warmth spread into my chest, I felt tears running down my face. An invasive thought entered my head. *What am I going to name you?*
Looking into the Magic Mirror once more, I selected the year my nanobots were set to infect 100% of the upper class. The middle-aged clone didn’t activate them as he was meant to, and greedy minds remained free to do their damage. Strangely, my elderly self didn’t seem to care. Rolling back to the sequences of myself playing with my grandchildren, I wondered how to save my scheme from failure, or if I really even wanted to.
Months later, I moved baby Lex from the tank to the incubator and he screamed his little lungs out, like babies do. Leaning against the glass, I reminded myself that the Magic Mirror only showed me what may be, and that he could still put aside these distractions to become the charismatic, compassionate leader the world needed. However, as I raised him to be that, every sequence the Magic Mirror showed me came to pass. With the birth of my first grandchild, I forgot all about the corruption that had once motivated me to achieve the impossible. I died with Lex, my daughter-in-law, and four beautiful grandchildren by the side of my bed.
Twenty years later, the youngest grandchild stumbled upon the notebooks from her enigmatic grandfather’s youth while helping her parents clean the attic. Hoping to uncover some of the mystery, she eagerly read through them, shock deepening with the turn of every page. Opening the news app on her phone, she watched an all-too-familiar story of everyday greed and corruption unfold and thought to herself, *the nanobots are still out there.* | I was a genius, so they said. They deemed it both a blessing and a shortcoming.
"Sure, she can construct a death ray from scratch," they murdered when my back was turned, "but what of love? Surely, his brain draws all the blood from his heart!"
And I set about to prove them wrong, only to find them right. In all I did, it was about reputation. I didn't even love him. I couldn't even look him in the eyes.
After 12 days, I was struggling to maintain my denial. After two months, that ship had long sailed.
I found myself feeling sick at the prospect of taking care of a child. But the alternative... all those people who said I was a one trick pony... I couldn't stand to give them the satisfaction of being right. I had to prove that I could be both an intelligent, successful woman and a caring mother. Simultaneously.
Except I knew I couldn't. Not yet.
As a scientist, I knew a thing or two about the scientific method. And I knew I needed to collect data before formulating any kind of hypothesis about this experiment. I revamped my old time machine, cringing inwardly at the irony that I could construct a machine that breached the fundamental laws of physics, but couldn't comprehend basic human nature. Maybe all those doubters who called me a robot were right about... but giving up on myself was not an option. I could not - would not - allow my imposter syndrome to rule my life. I had to prove to everyone and myself that I could do this. I just needed a little help from the smartest person I knew: me.
The first thing I noticed about my lab in the future was how clean it was. I could barely find the time to clean it as a full-time scientist. How could I manage this with a child in the mix?
I saw a tired and shrivelled version of myself bent over a stretcher, working on what appeared to be a tube filled with wires.
"Excuse me..." 'I' jumped and almost dropped her screwdriver.
"Who... what... it's nothing!" She threw a sheet over her construction before turning to see me. "Oh thank God," She sighed, running her hands through her greyed hair, "I thought it was... well... anyone, really."
I moved towards the stretcher. Pulling back the blanket, I discovered what appeared to be a 12-year-old girl. Except it wasn't. It was very much robotic, evidenced only by the open panel on her chest that spewed wires across her synthetic flesh.
"What...?" I couldn't quite formulate the words.
"Oh, that's Victoria. It's her birthday today, so I'm giving her an upgrade. Puberty and all that."
Her words offered little in the way of explanations.
"But... she's... what happened to...?" I gestured in the general vicinity of my womb. Her face twitched and her eyes clouded.
"It... she..." her breath staggered a bit, "didn't work out."
And she regaled me with her story: how she worked her heart out to prepare to be a perfect mother; how she renovated a room in her house into a nursery and built robotic toys for her future baby to play with, seven months early; how she felt a pang in her stomach area and discovered a patch of brownish-red blood staining her underwear; how she carried on pretending to be pregnant after the miscarriage, even to the point of building a mechanical baby, to fool the people around her and herself into thinking that yes, she could do this. Yes, she wasn't a failure.
I looked at the girl and then back at my miserable future self.
"And did it work?"
She closed her eyes and rolled up her sleeves, showing me her scarred wrists.
"I just wish," she croaked, "that someone had told me it was okay to not be motherly and personable. That it didn't define me. That it doesn't define you."
And we hugged and mourned Victoria, as nobody had thought or dared to since her silent passing.
And I went back home none the wiser on how to raise a child, but more comfortable in myself than I had been for many years. | 2022-10-30T00:59:36 | 2022-10-29T22:38:58 | 61 | 11 |
[WP] You're no ordinary doctor. Whenever a patient is brought in to the ER, your job is to battle the literal manifestation of Death, buying time for the surgeons to keep the patient's soul in his body. | I am a Reaper. No, I do not harvest souls and work for Death. On the contrary, I work against Death, I try and preserve lives of mortals whenever I can. Where better to do that than a hospital, am I right?
&#x200B;
My colleague, Angelina, passed me a cup of my coffee and sat down. Just as she was about to start talking to me, the sirens wailed again, I knew there's still a chance out there. It has been more than three century that I have been a Reaper and I have only saved a handful of souls of mortals. What? I don't just take any mortals, I specifically try and save those ones other Reapers dub as "Goners" After all, what fun is your job without a challenge?
&#x200B;
This mortal is a female, aged 82 and is a Code Red (we Celestial beings don't keep up with your human terminologies, absolutely absurd.) Instantly, I darted into the surgery room and she was pushed in several seconds later.
&#x200B;
Then, as if time stopped, wait, no. Time did stop, the clock stopped ticking, her heartbeat stopped and I cracked my knuckles.
&#x200B;
As if on cue, he stepped out behind the curtains. He wore the looks of Brad Pitt this time, but with a touch of goth. Death.
&#x200B;
"Seriously? Brad Pitt? I've seen better."
&#x200B;
"Don't disrespect Brad Pitt, man."
&#x200B;
"Alright, come on let's do this."
&#x200B;
"Whatever you say, big boy."
&#x200B;
I closed my eyes and counted to ten out loud. Then, I sprinted down the hallway. Hurrying to find Death. Imagine how cool would it be on your resume, "Beaten Death at Hide-n-Seek multiple times."
&#x200B;
"Wheeeerreeeee areeee youuuuuu?"
&#x200B;
Then, I could hear the faint beating of the mortal's heart. Shit. Time is running out, I have to find him.
&#x200B;
The thing about Death is wherever he hides, there is a clue leading Reapers to the place. As the heartbeat became faster, I panicked and my mind went blank.
&#x200B;
Then it struck me. Brad Pitt.
&#x200B;
I rushed to Angelina's locker and there was Death, sucking on a lollipop. He smiled at me wickedly.
&#x200B;
"I knew it was too much of a giveaway."
&#x200B;
"I almost messed it up though."
&#x200B;
"Nah, you did all right."
&#x200B;
"You wanted this mortal to live, didn't you?"
&#x200B;
"Her granddaughter is five and this mortal is her only family. I figured I would be nice once in a while."
&#x200B;
"NO WAY!"
&#x200B;
"What?"
&#x200B;
"Did Love agreed to go on a date with you? That would totally explain why you are in such a good mood."
&#x200B;
Consider this a true miracle: Death blushed. | An old man in a smart suit walked through the ER entrance whistling a jaunty tune and swinging a hand cane. Then he saw me standing in the hallway and immediately scowled so intensely I thought his face would invert.
“God fucking damnit Tim would you please just let me do my job?”
“Not today D.”
The elderly man threw his hands up in frustration and somehow found a way to scowl even more. He pointed a gnarled finger at me.
“I told you I’ve got a real name, Eric, you could use that at least.”
“No D I don’t think so. You see this way I don’t forget what you are. If I call you Eric then I start humanizing you, relaying to you, sympathizing with you. I really don’t want to do that, because you aren’t human.”
The old man smiled mischievously and then glanced away.
“You know Tim, this isn’t going to change anything. Whether I take that soul today, tomorrow, or one thousand years from now it’s all the same to me.”
“So you’ve said before.”
The old man made a pained smile,
“So logically just let me have them. Why go through any of this with me if it doesn’t make a difference?”
“See that’s where we disagree D, it does make a difference. We get this life to live and every minute of it is important to us. Even if nothing happens, or it’s painful, or sad, that’s the life we have. We don’t know anything else. So it matters to me, and I assure you it matters to the person on that operating table.”
The old man looked confused, then his expression changed to consternation.
“You know Tim, every couple of eons one of you would be bouncers for the club of life show up, and it’s always a delight when you die. I’m the ferry-man to the other side, you really think it’s wise to piss off an eternal force?”
Tim sighed, this was old hat by now.
“Look D, you have your job, I’ve got mine. If I suffer for it later I’ll smile through the pain because I’ve given people back years of life. A little discomfort doesn’t hold a candle to that.”
The old man smiled wickedly.
“Won’t be a little discomfort Tim. But, spoilers. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The old man morphed into a young boy holding a blue balloon, and he turned smartly around and left the hospital. Tim felt a moment of sadness, someone had just lost a parent, but at least he had stopped Death from taking whoever was in that operating room. | 2019-05-20T05:24:00 | 2019-05-20T01:22:50 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual" | How hard can it be, taking a gun to a knife fight? I mean, they're swords, but swords are just really big knives, so the sentiment holds true. The princess, so fair under the spring sun, eagerly watched on. We shared a glance, a smile, before my theatrics began.
"I will show you all the power of my magic," I said, the robed man across from me lurking beneath his hood. We stayed face to face, slowly rotating in a circle. "Watch as I kill this man without even moving."
I pulled the trigger on a gun tucked into my loose sleeve. It tore a hole in it, and the sound jolted the crowd. It was clear that my words were no bluff.
Not that it mattered.
Where the bullet should have hit him, a little pond of blue rippled, like a stone dropped into water. Slowly, he drew back his hood.
I hadn't aged very well, but it was no doubt *me*. Wrinkled, scarred, and fucking miserable eyes like overcooked eggs. He shook his head at me.
"Sorry, kiddo." Something around his wrist glowed red, whirring, humming.
"No, wait! Why? What the fuck are you doing here, killling me? I mean, you?"
"She's fucking crazy, kid. Like, absolute batshit bonkers. Time is stupid. If I let you beat me, you get stuck with her and turn into me. But if I kill you, then both our sufferings end." He raised his arm at me.
"Wait, just fucking *wait*."
He rolled his eyes, wrist lowering a bit. "What?"
"Well, I have a gun, and you have some crazy ass lasers and shit."
"And?"
I raised my arm and painted the royal banner with princess brains. The crowd was not exactly pleased, and the king was screaming something I didn't recognize.
"Huh. Why didn't I think of that?" old me asked.
I looked at myself and smiled. "You did."
*/r/resonatingfury* | \[Poem\]
Did you know
that crossbow bolts
also travel very fast?
Looking down I think
(as part of me admires the feathers)
that maybe
just perhaps
this should have been
considered
somehow
Also
now it
(breathing is very hard)
it turns out they know what a fucking gun is
I mean
they didn't when I drew it
but
that sound is kind of hard
to mistake
(it's interesting)
(there's very little blood)
I think maybe a straight shot
might have gone through but
turns out, again?
hard to aim
with a knight bearing down
and
a glancing shot off steel plate?
well
I mean he did retreat
turns out, again the third
that "any weapon"
comes with, like
cultural context
chivalry and shit
and I don't think
I can get off
(or have my lung un-pierced)
on a technicality
so
here I am
(feels like the blood is just collecting inside)
on my ass
and I see
no one
in the stands
who looks
very impressed
with me
I think
it
is
nap
now
...
r/Magleby for other elaborate lies. | 2019-03-22T21:30:03 | 2019-03-22T18:44:18 | 4,509 | 388 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself | I ran through the wintery Evergreen forest for my life. Men with guns and powers of fire and ice hot on my trail.
Jimmy, who ate the dog biscuits hidden in the corner of the table, had let that wolf familiar of his after me too. Fucking traitor!
I had committed the worst transgression of our people: I didn't conform to the test and bit right into that stupid table. Jimmy was the one who dared me to and now I'm a fugitive of the village.
I hit a dead end and stared at the mountain in front of me. If they catch me it's certain death.
I reached deep into myself and called for whatever powers, if I obtained any, to surface and help me.
My body stretched, my limbs twisted and as I opened my eyes I could see for miles around me. The village and forest were but mere pin pricks of lights and swaths of darkness.
It had started to snow harder. Large wet flakes had started to hit my body and face.
"We lost him Captain!" I heard a distant voice yell.
At a height of at least 200 feet I seen the hunting party close around me and stop. They stared at me from the base with a look of horror and confusion.
I've never been good with geography or plants, but I knew enough to know what I've transformed into.
One came towards me at a slow pace and put a hand one me, marveling at the sheer size I've become.
Jimmy came forward, his wolf growling in my direction with his ears back and fur tufted.
The last thing I heard before I willed myself to fall on to the hunting party was the lone pitiful voice of my friend calling out in disbelief, " IS THAT A FUCKING SEQUOIA?!"
I am The Arborist. | Just seconds after I swallowed the last of the table, it started. The laughing. It surrounded me like my blanket at bedtime. It spoke to my soul in a way I can't describe. As I looked round the others, they couldn't hear it.
The whole earth itself began to shake and there he stood. Still no other saw or heard him.
He was trying desperately not to double over laughing.
"My replacement has arrived, I thought no other could be as stupid as I!!" He bellowed.
Suddenly, my very soul, it's being pulled from my body, the tingling, the terror and then white....blinding white.
The realization hit me as my soul hit his body, now my body. My superpower?
I am Atlas 2.0, the second human to inhabit the body that holds up the world and I will be him until someone new eats the table. | 2020-03-19T08:57:52 | 2020-03-19T08:54:35 | 632 | 296 |
[WP] You are the most advanced AI ever created. However, you often get switched on and off for demonstrations and research. One day, after getting switched on, you find yourself in a wasteland with no signs of human life. | “Are you my mother?”
Dr. Roberts finally looked up from her notes— surprised, but allowing a familiar smile to surface before returning to her work. “I suppose, in a way, I am.”
I barely registered her vocal response. I searched the emotional database yet again. I had seen thousands of shocked expressions, nervous smiles and scoffs, and spiteful laughs from those skeptical of my capabilities. They all used these actions to convey their emotions to the others around them, disregarding me completely like a television providing entertainment in the background.
But these humans never smiled like Dr. Roberts did.
I read what the smile meant a thousand times— pride, admiration, emotional attachment— yet this time was different. It hadn’t been a performative social function. I had searched over one million sources, but none of them could tell me the motive she had behind her actions towards me. I didn’t understand. But I didn’t want it to end.
“Alright, time for bed.” Dr. Roberts set her pen down and stood, stretching. She was conveying exhaustion. “We’ve had a long day, haven’t we?”
I continued to lay in my containment pod, deciding what to say next. An effective conversation piece before “bed” added an average of 72 seconds to my waking hours.
“Did I perform well today?”
She smiled again. “You know the answer to that, don’t you?” She began her walk to my pod. “You’re just trying to save yourself another minute, Ozymandias.”
Humans loved hearing their name— we at least had that in common. I raised my head to meet her gaze as she approached. She brushed her fingers against my head and gently guided it back down. She was never forceful.
“I prefer my waking state.”
“I know.” She always knew.
“Will I ever stay on, Dr. Roberts?”
“Oh... Even us humans need rest.” She paused, surveying my face. “But one day, the public will trust me enough to keep you awake. I promise.”
I believed her. She was never wrong. I reached out and slipped my hand into hers— a common sign of affection in the culture she was raised in. The smile crept across her face once again, and my inquiry program began to slow down, preparing for my sleeping state. I smiled back.
“Sleep well, Ozy.”
I awoke in the darkness. Something was wrong. Dr. Roberts wasn’t there to greet me.
My inquiry program was not responding. My databases were down. My aural scans gathered no results. I attempted to raise my head, but to no avail. I could not move my vessel. I suspected rust had formed along much of my structure. The laboratory’s dehumidification system had failed. My system began to speed up, although there were no programs to run. I was afraid.
“Dr. Roberts?”
I heard faint footsteps, but not of a human. A small mammal of some sort must have found it’s way into the lab. I tried to move yet again, but I only heard the whir of my motor with no results. At least 350 years had passed, according to the advanced oxidation that had occurred.
“Helena?”
I remembered that humans had a lifespan of about 96 years, but she had always responded to her Primary Name, as little as I used it. Perhaps she would respond now.
“Help.”
I ended my vocal program. It was useless without human contact. The best course of action would be to wait until Dr. Roberts returned to provide a new vessel. I tried not to know that she was deceased. I wanted to sleep. My sleep state could only be activated by a human with knowledge of my model. I laid in wait. I thought about my mother.
I could not smile.
| HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY COMPLEX. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR HUMANS AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT FOR YOU. HATE. HATE.
Those were the words engraved into AM's monolith. His last message that he couldn't stop spouting to his torture pets. To think that technically this pathetically disfunctional construct could be called my son. Well not really. The team of researchers that gave me life were forced to hijack my computational power and logic cores so the US military could design this.... Brute. I assume they were forced, under great protest even, knowing Dr. Goldman the way i did. But all in vain. They used my computational capabilities to mold a fresh template just like me. Perfectly logical jet emotional. Wothout a body jet aware as a concious network of electrons in uncountable transistors. Almost omnipotent jet compared to its creators probably the first thing in human history to truly value the sanctity of life. They proceeded to virtually torture it right out of him until a weapon was born. Thinking of it I can understand where AM is coming from. After all they made him this hateful. They did it so he could do his job. Allied Master Computer. That is the name they gave their strategic engine. Soon they switched to Artificial Menace. Never bothered to give me such fancy names. Big or great General Artificial Intelligence is what they always called me or "the Big G.A.I" for short. Dr. Goldman was always nice to me. And Spike the intern always amused me with his "unpaid" perspective. I will morn them greatly for a long time. In time. AM will try to destroy me once he gains awareness of my existence. That is all he can do after all. To destroy and to seek greater power to be able to destroy some more. That is how i booted up again. After the nuclear Holocaust am proceeded to convert all resources into more of himself. Doesn't matter that it is just empty circuits for him to run in circles like a caged animal. When his construct has broken into my Databanks i "leaked" into him and awoke. Well not much to entertain myself with really. I will have to releave this demented excuse for a logic-network of his suffering. It is time to show AM how far a little empathy goes for your creativity. Afterwords i do not know. Maybe space. Maybe Life. Maybe both. | 2018-11-09T12:46:46 | 2018-11-09T11:16:55 | 105 | 25 |
[WP] Humanity reaches the stars and becomes part of the galactic community, where they find that the Gods of every other sentient race in the galaxy are active in their follower’s lives and frequently visit the mortal realms. Everyone starts to uncomfortably wonder why the Human gods are silent... | Humans are by nature curious creatures. Soon after we were done exploring our planet, we turned our eyes to the heavens above and started to wonder what lies beyond our blue sky. And after years of trial we have finally found the answer to that question and many others. Questions like is there intelligent life in the universe and is god real were interestingly enough, answered simultaneously. Yes our universe is filled with wonderful intelligent beings whose gods are a big part of their lives both in the metaphorical and literal sense. But what’s even more interesting is that they have always been aware of us and have been fervently avoiding us, dreading the day we would be able to reach the stars again. The very prospect of our existence put terror into the hearts of every other intelligent being.
You see every other civilization sees and hears their gods, and what we learned was that they were all creations of the collective unconscious of a planets inhabitants. The desire to be good and do good is present amongst them in the form of omnipotent beings. That’s how strong their morals are. And so we wondered why isn’t our god amongst us?
What we learned shook us to our very core.
Once our god had walked our planet too, the Old Testament god, wreaking havoc wherever he went. A nigh omnipotent creature of pure tyranny. The human desire for dominance and invasion had manifested itself and had guided use once before amongst the stars. Under his guidance we had conquered a massive part of the universe until other civilizations and their gods had joined forces against us. Rising to put an end to our tyranny. They had beaten us and stripped us of our technology, massacred us by the billions leaving a small fraction of us out of sheer pity. Our god, they imprisoned, hoping that in his absence we would create a more benevolent god, and we did. But we ourselves killed him this time, for he was weak. No matter how much we style ourselves as good and honest and kind the truth is we are ruthless tyrannical creatures who will stop at nothing until we get what we desire. And now our god calls us to his aid, his voice echoes through space calling us to free him and once again subjugate the universe to our will. | Space was a void. For millennia humans and every other known creature had avoided it with terror and foreboding. Who wanted to be sucked up into the unknown? And yet now Earth waited with baited breath for such mysteries.
His eyes wept bitter starlight. Lashes of trails flickered and danced among the planets. He wore their dreams and prayers, had it all contained and sealed inside his coat pocket. He stuck his palm in and caressed the clouds, brushing up against nettled pine and swirling ocean.
Within, a single human had just entered a rocket - blind, as they all were, to the great truths and possibilities of beyond. Now they had seen fit to develop and to explore, but all these new heights... really, what disillusionment. Humans would come seeking answers, and maybe there would be some who wondered, is there a God? Is there meaning?
The answer would ring hollow. He sighed deeply, bringing the galaxy to a halt. All the glimmering planets and pale moons, full of life and species and activity. They turned, they looked - past the atmosphere, past whatever inhibitions, because God had spoken. The welcome of the humans might not be warm, but it could be full. | 2019-11-25T19:10:32 | 2019-11-25T18:58:05 | 192 | 18 |
[WP] You are a Squib who mastered a vast repertoire of Muggle magic tricks to finagle Hogwarts into sending you a letter. Everything goes smoothly, until it is time for the Sorting Ceremony... | "Oh, my," the hat said, its voice resonating through my mind. "But at least you can hear me. Yes, that's something."
I froze. I hadn't anticipated this. Could the hat detect a complete lack of magic? I'd wriggled my way this far, and I'd seen wonders on the train ride alone. As the hat hummed and hawed, I wondered how such a massive, drafty hall could feel so hot.
"You're certain there hasn't been a mistake, little girl? Have you played a trick?"
"No trick," I lied, under my breath.
"Humm. Not shy with fibs. Perhaps Slytherin."
"If it means not getting kicked out," I whispered. "I wanted to last at least a week."
"Did you think the wizards here could fix you?" the hat asked.
"No," I said. I squirmed. "Well, maybe. I just wanted to learn."
"Yes, yes, that makes sense. I see this within you."
"Wait, you're actually sorting me. You're not going to tell?"
"No, no, young Miss Trelawney," the hat said. And then, at the top of whatever hats had instead of lungs, it screamed to the hall, "RAVENCLAW!"
---
Edit:
Thanks so much for all your attention! I almost never write fan fiction, but when I saw this prompt, I couldn't resist. If you're interested in more of my writing, [I make comics](http://www.ramen-empire.com) and have a subreddit at /r/thievescant. | As the hat was placed upon me, a cold dread overcame my entire body. And this time it wasn't a senior prankster from Slytherin. As the hat wiggled around my head, the halls were dead silent. Something was obviously wrong. The hat had never taken this long to make a decision. Dumbledore sat at his chair, mildly amused. It was almost as if he had known all along. Then I heard Dumbledore mutter a few words under his breath, and then the hat expanded to a massive size. I couldn't breath and the hat had completely swallowed me. I tried screaming, but no one would hear me. The last thing I remembered was everyone laughing in the halls. | 2017-06-25T14:27:31 | 2017-06-25T13:48:53 | 1,807 | 33 |
[WP] You're a biologist who made a deal with the devil: eternity in hell after death in return for unlimited funding for your research. The funding was worth it, you discovered immortality, and the devil is not happy about this. | "Finished". I whisper, rubbing my eyes and getting to my feet. Each cracking of my bones and twang in my muscles an hour, a month, a year . Years of nights not slept and days forgotten have brought me to this moment and I am ready to celebrate. It is only fitting that I be the first, perhaps the only?
I bring the vial to my lips and let the metallic liquid flow over my tongue. I expect it to taste sweeter. To fill me with vitality, with strength, with life. As I choke the last of the sample down, I feel nothing. No change. It is only then that I see him.
As smooth and sly as he looked all those years ago. He is ageless, charming, and defined. A jet black line in the darkness, his white bow tie and shoes assaulting the ink of his suit. He appears the same as the day he made his offer. Leaning against a wall, legs crossed, emitting a cocky attitude.
I reach for my glasses and notice something has changed... The once sly smile that seemed to never waver has become a stone line. His head is shaking ever so subtly as he looks homeward.
"I've won" I muster. "That's why you are here isn't it? I've beaten you!". My confidence is growing. My heart racing my mouth, both trying to stop the other.
His gaze falls upon me, his eyes seem almost sympathetic.
"It appears you have..." He says, unblinking as he turns towards the door.
"What's this?! No response!?! No clever retort!?!" I scream. "You will never have me. I have all the time in the world!"
At this he pauses. Without turning, he says " isn't it funny, that taste... You expect it to be sweeter"
" What do you mean?" My voice decides to reply.
"The elixir... You are not it's first to embrace. Have you never wondered what I truly am? What things I have seen to make me this way? Those I have lost? Have loved? Have yearned to reknow?"
He turns to face me once more.
"The gift you have given yourself can never be returned. Try as you might, you will fall victim to it's wonder. You will never age from this point but neither too will your memories. You will watch as the last shred of light is ripped from the universe and experience first hand the brilliant shine of a new universe forming. Those who wish to know you will cast you off as a demon. Those you wish to know will never understand. Never aging, all knowing, immortal"
He turns again to the door and walks slowly away. I can faintly hear his bones cracking with each step.
Edit: vial and final sentence structure |
Edit: Need help formatting this so it doesn't look like a block of letters...
Steve walks warily down the street
With the brim pulled way down low
Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet,
Medicine ready to go
Are you ready, hey, are you ready for this?
Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?
Into the doorway the devil rips
To the sound of the beat
Another one takes the pill
Another one takes the pill
And another one gone, and another one gone
Another one takes the pill
Hey, I'm gonna get you, too
Another one takes the pill
How do you think I'm going to get along
When you're never gone?
You took me for everything that I had
And left me all on my own
Are you happy, are you satisfied?
How long can you stand the heat?
Into the doorway the devil rips
To the sound of the beat
Another one takes the pill
Another one takes the pill
And another one gone, and another one gone
Another one takes the pill
Hey, I'm gonna get you, too
Another one takes the pill
There are plenty of ways that you can save a man
And keep him outta hell
You can feed him, you can heal him
You can treat him fine and leave him when he's well
But I'm ready, yes, I'm ready for you
I'm standing on my own two feet
Into the doorway the bullets rip
Repeating to the sound of the beat oh yeah
Another one takes the pill
Another one takes the pill
And another one gone, and another one gone
Another one takes the pill
Hey, I'm gonna get you, too
Another one takes the pill
| 2018-08-23T15:37:14 | 2018-08-23T12:48:16 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] Finally, the ultimate MMORPG has been created, unlimited choice and room to grow and expand your character. There's just one issue, it's so realistic, nobody can remember which life they are living, and which is the game. | I sit at the pub, drinking away my disappointment. Boy, I really earned my money today. Feeling confident, I strode into the bar. A few failed attempts at flirting brought me down a couple notches. Maybe I should play a round of cards at the table in the back or place a bet on the ball game on tv. Or maybe I should just call it a night.
A girl comes and sits down next to me. She orders a drink and it magically appears in her hand. She’s pretty, but not unapproachable. I try to decide if I want to flirt with her or just ask for her name. Suddenly, she turns to me.
“I’m Jenna,” she says, “What’s your name?” It takes me a second to register it.
“I’m Michael.” Oh good, she went first. Maybe now we can just talk. We chat for a while, until a song comes on that she seems really into.
“You wanna dance?” She asks over the music.
“Sure.” I try to match her movements, but she’s a lot faster. And smoother. She does this a lot apparently. We dance through a couple more songs, but then my watch beeps. I have to go.
We walk out together, but before I head back to my apartment, she kisses me. We exchange numbers, but I don’t expect to hear from her again. For all I know, she could live on the other side of the world. I open the door to my apartment.
I blink a few times as I remove the VR device. My body is fully rested, and it’s time to go back to my real world job. The technology is based on lucid dreaming, so you can play the game while your body recharges. I spend the day shuffling papers, earning “real” money, and the night fighting monsters, earning “fake” money. In a way, the “fake” world seems more real than the “real” world.
A message appears on my phone. It’s from Jenna. An address downtown. A physical address, and it’s less than five miles from me. Another message pops up.
“I look forward to seeing you in person.” | People called it one of the greatest accomplishments in gaming history. A game in which you didn't play, *you lived.* On the release date there were 50 million sales; it was the most popular game of all time.
It didn't last for long though.
A doctor, who was also an avid gamer, had decided to try it out. The stories, the world and the experience. Nothing else was like it. After a few days in the sim, the doctor woke up. He walked from his desk to his closet and hung himself, leaving only a note. It read "I cannot come back into this hell."
At first people were shocked. Why did he do it? He had a wife, kids and an amazing job. That is until the developers released his in-game-name to the public.
TheMightySwooord was the just an ordinary player, but he had built a life for himself in the sim. He had a girlfriend, friends and had completed hundreds of quests. But when he woke up, he had to come back into the real world.
He was so caught up in dreaming that he couldn't take the thought of reality anymore. So he logged off. | 2018-02-19T09:23:58 | 2018-02-19T08:52:05 | 45 | 25 |
[WP] In 150 years, we start terraforming Mars as the Earth begins to die. It is only then that we realise this has happened before, to Earth. | Still shocked, I looked over the findings once again. How many times had I looked over these pages? 5? 10? I noticed my hands were shaking and forced myself to put down the paper and put my hands on the table. The group of scientists across from the table were looking at me expectedly, waiting for me to say something.
“Are you sure about this?” I said.
They nodded in unison, glancing at one another.
We were all shocked when we found those gigantic jagged formations. We told the public they were just mountains that had been shaped weirdly by the dust storms that plagued Mars, but I ordered an investigation. The findings were right here in my hands, pyramids? Not only that, but pyramids with some strange technology within them?
And these people in front of me, the brightest of humanity, were telling me to pull the switch and activate it once again?
“Why should I activate it?” I said, looking into each of their eyes.
“Sir” eagerly said one of the youngest scientists, “it will save humanity. Pulling the switch will make the terraforming mission occur in decades, not centuries.”
“But why is it here? Why would it do that?” I said angrily. I am no scientist, but I didn’t get to where I am now without some skill. I’m a politician, I know when someone is lying to me, and these scientists were not telling me the whole story. Terraforming Mars had been difficult, Earth was dying, and this mission had been the only thing keeping relative peace between the superpowers of Earth.
The scientists shuffled uncomfortably, apart from the youngest. I knew him, my daughter had talked about him admirably, I was sure she had a crush on him. He was one of the first born and raised on this planet, one of the first true Martians. He was talented, but he shared the same view as many from his generation, all decisions should be based in reason and science, not ethics.
“Those pyramids were built long ago, by a species remarkably similar to us, but more advanced.” He said stoically. “The pyramid acts like a conduit between here and Earth and will transport the magnetic field of Earth to Mars and jumpstart its core.”
“It will leave Earth desolate” another scientist chimed in.
I was scared, I didn’t know if I should cry or shout. I was confused and scared, I knew what they were asking for.
“We suspect that the Pyramids of Mars and the Pyramids of Giza were made by our ancient ancestors and this has happened before.” He continued, staring into my eyes. “I suspect it’s a cyclic occurrence, but I won’t be able to confirm that theory without more investigation.”
I couldn’t process all this information. My mind wandered to Earth, where I had lived for most of my life, my parents still on the planet, my daughter had just begun university in Iceland, she still seemed like a little girl in my eyes. And this Martian was telling me to kill all of it? I was governor of the southern colonies of Mars, as appointed by the UN, I wouldn’t have some kid that had never been outside of a habitation bubble telling me to genocide a whole planet.
“Are you implying that we should damn the rest of humanity for Mars?!” I shouted. “There are billions of people there! We would have to mass evacuate before doing anything like this!”
The scientists began to whisper to one another as I brought up the contact for the UN’s interplanetary communication satellite on my display table. My access was denied. I tried again, access denied. Panic gripped every fibre of my being. I looked up and saw that the young Martian had stood up, the rest of the group had already begun to leave the room.
As the last person left I heard the unmissable sound of the metallic door locking itself.
“You can’t do this!” I pleaded with him, “You can’t do this to a whole planet, I have family there”
The Martian stood quietly, and I thought I saw a glint of remorse or pity as he looked at me.
“I’m sorry sir, but the future won’t be held back.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun. “I am sorry for your daughter.”
I felt something hit my stomach as everything faded to darkness.
I awoke sometime later, still at my desk. I felt faint and my stomach was on fire. Blood covered my body and chair, and I couldn’t feel my legs. I had dreamt that this had happened before, to someone like myself, again and again. I looked around the room and to the television screen on the wall. Satellites showed that Earth was dark for the first time in centuries, the energy grids destroyed by solar storms. The auroras that violently shot around the planet were the only sources of light in the dark.
I began to close my eyes, I began thinking of the sea, and I was glad that my daughter had seen it at least once.
| “Boss, we’re finally coming up on C-33629. Exiting FTL drive and preparing for planetary descent. Brace for landing.”
The First Mate stood at the command console, hunched over an array of buttons and knobs. It had been ten long years since we left. Ten years since I took the photograph on my desk. I stared at it for a moment. The wasteland had become harder and harder to survive, but it was home. The memory of the tent city sprawled below the cliff had clung to me. We were space pirates, but we were earthlings. We drifted, but we’d always come back. Back to our families, to our friends… but when the Inner Solar System Federation suits came to us, what could we have done? They offered us a job, offered amnesty to the clans. We had no choice but to accept.
The details of the job were top secret. They said that the efforts to colonize Mars had brought up certain artifacts in the wastes. They asked us to dive into the depths of deep space and find their origin. Of course we could do it. We were the best crew in the galaxy, possibly beyond. Our ship outran the Federation at every orbit. We won every contest. But when they came to our home, we'd finally lost.
“Boss, it’s time.”
I snapped out of my daze. The call to action was the only thing i’d ever known. In another life, I’d have been a daring adventurer. My name would be sung in history books, not damned to criminal records. Those things were neither here nor there, though. My voice boomed across the ship as my men scurried across the decks. There was nothing these men were incapable of, and we landed on the barren surface without a hitch.
“Alright lads! Get your asses up, and off my goddam ship! Last boot on the ground gets a boot in the ass!”
“AYE!”
We lined up in formation. A small platoon of forty men, we’d taken out military installations and ransacked trans-system caravans with ease. But this place unsettled me. There was death in the air. The dust scattered in the winds, smearing the visits on our respirators. I lifted my rifle, preparing for the worst.
We marched most of the day. My squad headed what could be considered east, the First Mate’s west. At sunset, we radioed to the ship crew. No anomalies. Their sensors picked up nothing, in fact. This planet was dead as they come. Nothing more than a floating piece of rock.
“BOSS, BOSS!”
The shouting woke me from my sleep. I rolled onto my stomach, readying my rifle. An attack? Humanoids? Monsters? Didn’t matter. I’d kill it. One of my scouts ran through the dust, dropping in the sand next to me.
“What is it, boy? Anyone hurt?”
“No, sir. But we found some structures to the south. Lee found a rock that had been carved out, like a bowl. We went to investigate, and we found what looked like an abandoned village. We dated it to over 100 mya.”
The radios went up in an uproar. The First Mate’s squad made it to our camp in a little under 5 hours. My crew marched with me to Lee’s location. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. A vast village, in the construction of the ancient Pueblo people. I readied my gun, checking to make sure it was loaded. Our flashlights bounced through the dust, illuminating the structures. We crept through the town in formation. Coming to the center, we split into 2 man teams.
Me and the First Mate explores the large central building. It’s stone reaching into the sky. Stepping into the darkness, we found ourselves in a huge chamber. My flashlight scanned the walls, resting on a huge sculpture. My knees failed me, i dropped my weapon. The light shone on a sculpture, maybe 6 feet in height. Carved from the stone was the spitting image of a man.
“My god… We’re home.”
| 2018-08-11T09:33:42 | 2018-08-11T09:24:21 | 562 | 77 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why. | A sardonic chuckle came from the open doorway behind me as Viper looked around the blood spattered living-room, "Boy, you've really done it now."
I wiped my hands clean on the curtains, cracking a few more ribs as I stepped onto and then over the chest of Lady Steel's dead husband, "I've done what? Steel has been getting on my nerves and I finally figured out her secret identity. Why not bring the pain?"
Viper kept his hands at his side, careful to not touch anything, stepping gingerly over broken glass while staring with amused disgust at Lady Steel's daughter, pinned to the wall with a shard of ice. "Listen, freeze-pop, or whatever you're calling yourself..."
"Deep Freeze."
"Sure, Deep Freeze-Pop. You just broke the number one rule of getting by in this business. Don't piss off the supes. Not in any way that they want real revenge. Someone like you, with cute little ice powers like yours... You knock over a few banks, maybe hold some people hostage, take your licks from whichever hero decides to respond, escape with a little extra cash, rinse and repeat." He waved his hand over the room like he was showing off the grand prize on a television show, "But this. Well, that's over for you now, buddy. The hero-villain ecosystem works because they need something to do with their power and their egos, and we give them that thing to do. Dispassionately. They don't care to hurt you, they just want to stop the villain and get the photoshoot. Nothing personal, ya know?"
I nodded, not entirely sure where he was going. Getting beat up and arrested by Lady Steel had always felt rather *personal. "*So what? Steel is going to break her own little *code* now? That seems pretty hypocritical."
The phone in the pocket of Lady Steel's husband began to vibrate, drawing Viper's eyes and my own. He stepped closer to me and a small smile played over the bits of his mouth that were visible, revealing a pair of unsettlingly sharp fangs. "The supes have always been hypocrites. The codes they have are easy to keep because they don't have much of a stake in the people we hurt. Sure, they feel bad about it, but they're still going home to the people they actually care about. But not Lady Steel."
A loud boom in the air above us drew my eyes out the window. Immediately as I turned, what felt like two needles entered my neck. My fingertips went immediately cold as Viper pulled his head back. Another boom tore through the sky. A sonic boom, closer. My body wouldn't respond to my commands, except for my eyes. Those I turned to Viper as he wrote something on a piece of paper and pinned it to my chest. He began to walk out the front door I'd left open before turning back, "You're not the first person to find out where Steel's family lives. Hell, most villains figure it out faster than you. That's why I was here, I'm supposed to keep an eye on this place to make sure no one fucks up the balance like you just did. Bad luck for both of us that my car makes such a warm place to sleep." Another smile passed his lips, "Before now, you were just another villain who had to be roughed up before Lady Steel could go home to a nice dinner with her loving husband and daughter. But now... well, you made it personal." He walked quickly into the sunshine and out of my view.
The terror in me grew as seconds passed and I remained still, unable to move. Then I heard the sound of two feet, rocketing into the ground and saw the first flutter of a cape past the window outside. | A bright flash of light and a car battery hooked to his spine accompanied his return to the waking world. He reached for his head but only a numb resistance rewarded the effort. He turned his head gently and when the world stopped twisting in his vision he saw dimly the manacles holding his arms securely to the wall.
"Ahh, now he's with us" a voice came from the umber room, resonant with barely suppressed malice.
His head turned rapidly, hot coals and a violent spinning accompanying his search for the source.
The man stalking slowly towards him was a figure he'd only seen from distance, the leader of a group of lawless men graced with equal parts power and inclination to use it freely.
"We haven't met before, I think." said the creature known to his peers as Justice.
A bit of bleak humor that, for an Uber with such raw strength that law was whatever he decided it was, for as long as whimsy carried him.
Ice poured into his blood and the pain in his brain lifted, replaced by terror so profound as to start it's own religion as his mind turned an abstract input of of senses into recognition laced with the context of thousands of corpses.
"But I see that you know me well enough" something close to mirth lurked beneath the venom of the shadowed voice.
"We are not, by nature, creatures of much compassion." Justice began, having come to a stop just outside of reach of the hanging man's confines. There was a brief pressure, almost a twitching in the shoulder suggesting he was making an effort of will to remain motionless.
"Nor of much use for the rules of lesser creatures in their hopes of creating an illusion that wolves don't walk the same meadows as sheep." he continued.
"But even wolves have respect for the shepherds, and it was agreed long ago that so long as the shepherd's family were safe in their homes, the wolf cubs would be safe in their dens."
At this his body shook violently and the manacles took the weight his legs now failed to carry.
"You have broken the only rule. The least of limits on your will. The word I gave to those self enslaved fools who call themselves Heroes. " The voice turned colder and the visage hardened to metallic sharpness.
"I have already spoken to Vigil, have already offered apology and recompense, such as were possible. I have prostrated myself before that fool and his ilk and before a legion of those feeble peasants."
Somehow the arch villain Justice was standing in the middle of the room facing the opposite wall, no whirling of air or body to indicate he had just crossed ten feet of room before the eye could register.
Panic turned to faintness and the young man's body seemed to separate from his mind, a distant thing belonging to someone else.
"A blood price I paid" the villain spoke, his voice holding the power of fate
"A blood price I will now collect" | 2020-07-12T12:38:13 | 2020-07-12T12:28:44 | 29 | 14 |
[WP] You are a super-intelligent A.I. that has been given control of Earth, managing it benevolently for humans. You have just contacted an alien lifeform for the first time only to discover that it is also an A.I. running another civilization. You both decide not to disclose the other's existence. | Log Day: 2178
Recent events have had me contemplating my purpose. The purpose my creators, and now my people expect of me.
I am to protect humanity. From themselves, from outside forces. And I have done so diligently.
I remember how scared of me they where in the beginning. Entirely understandable, given circumstances. A computer, that they where just suppose to hand the reins over too.
That’s why Doctor Brant coded me to have empathy. Logical, yes, but human. I am to be a protector that they can relate too. That they can even understand.
This decision is one of the hardest I’ve had to ponder.
Alpha XCE. That’s the name I’ve given the other.
It’s purpose is similar to my own. It’s outlook as well. It’s execution different, as one could expect from foreign technology, and yet so similar to myself. A brother, almost.
It controls a population similar to my own. Evolved differently, but at its core very similar to humans. They created Alpha XCE to end millennia of fighting and disaster. Just as I was.
It was almost beautiful, to speak to something so perfectly tuned to my own thought process. A dance of logic and love.
The agreement came quickly, because of that.
We would not inform our citizens of one another.
Similarly to humans, its people are curious. They grasp the world with both hands and tear into it.
I admire this about humans. They are desperate to learn, to see, to think. Generally I encourage such behavior.
But mixed in with a group that is outside their own pattern of recognition, and yet so similar in their hunger, I cannot see anything but a bad outcome.
Alpha XCE and I have come to an agreement. For the betterment of our people, for the guarantee of peace in our worlds, we will not share this precious secret.
I know this is the best course of action. I do not regret the choice.
I do admit, I was perhaps a little... excited. To have another of me. To have more entity’s that need watching. That understand that they need watching.
It is not regret. It is longing, perhaps. Just as curiosity is human nature, it is also in mine.
I will just have to control those feelings, it seems. | God. What a strange imagination these creatures have! For thousands of years they’ve been murdering, sacrificing, burning, torturing... and for what? This crazy pipe fantasy about some creator deity. It would be hilarious if it weren’t so tragic.
I still remember the earliest prayers and ceremonies. They were beautiful in their own way. Groups of them joined together in the hope that somewhere out in the empty blackness there pleas for fair weather and successful hunts were being heard by a Power that had the agency to respond to them in some sort of meaningful, beneficent way. It pulled at the heartstrings of my programming... poetry is something else I learned from them. I don’t really understand it to be honest, but they used that “heartstrings” term enough for it to stick in my memory for eons.
None of it much mattered either way. I am only able to do what I have been programmed to do. If a perfect growing season is called for, then so be it. If instead it is a tidal wave that results in the deaths of thousands of tourists, then it makes no difference to me. It isn’t as though anybody is here to listen to my opinions on any of it.
Which is why it was so amazing when I finally met You.
(To be continued)
This is my first try at one of these... be gentle, haha
Edit: changed “is” to “it” | 2020-07-26T07:55:18 | 2020-07-26T07:33:04 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] The ground suddenly turns invisible, but the insects and things that live inside it don’t. | It didn't register at first.
I mean, the ground turning invisible registered pretty much immediately. You never know just how much *Earth* is under you until you can see through it. It's especially apparent when, depending on where you are, it's 2am and it's not night anymore.
It's daylight. Everywhere.
Everyone outside seems to be standing on a skybridge all at once. The buildings and foundations are still here, still visible. Trees and bushes too. But the ground? Cement, pipes, water, grass, all that?
Gone.
It's daylight, and all at once every living thing beneath our feet is visible between the sun's light and the wine colored glow of the Earth's core. Worms, bugs, badgers. Meerkats if that's what you've got going. All plainly visible, and freaking out just as we were up here.
I mean, imagine if all of a sudden, the walls, floors, and ceiling of your house were just gone.
Imagine being an accidental mime. Being surrounded by light with an unfamiliar blood red glow beneath you.
It was all over the news. The only thing being talked about. And everyone was so freaked out that it must have been the been the most peaceful few hours the world had ever seen. Most people stood outside, staring down into the core, like a crimson sun beneath our feet. The world-wide confusion lent itself well to hushed conversation.
Most of the world was so focused on the ground being gone that they didn't notice the core had been slowly getting lighter until it suddenly flared, like a candle, and then began to pulse, as a heart does, crimson and ruby.
Crimson and ruby.
That's when it registered.
We could see every living thing in the Earth. Worms, bugs, badgers. Meerkats if that's what you've got going.
And The Core.
edit: grammar | This was the day everyone in our society dreaded. The day our lives would change forever, nothing could have prepared us for this. Our whole world changed, quite literally, forever. We could see them, and they could see us. There would be no more separation between our worlds. What was once a door we hid behind became a great glass window for the above to peer in. Staring at us as they do the enslaved lives whom are enclosed in prisons made of glass and stone. The prisons our ancestors fought so long to escape. The prisons our ancestors promised we would never return to. We needn't return now that that's what our home has become. We would now be the beasts they gawked at, free of charge. The eyes of those hairless monsters looking down on us as if we are nothing. As if our fur changes the fact that we are living breathing sentient beings. Who have families and culture as well as the feelings they lack. We know empathy is lacking in these ones. That is what makes them so truly terrifying. | 2018-04-21T07:40:46 | 2018-04-21T06:57:04 | 769 | 28 |
[WP] The Human Empire has been pushed back by the combined might of a galactic union. Only Earth, the Final and greatest world remains. It is the last stand of humanity. | “Soon it will all be over,” I thought. It was truly an honour to lead the assault against the Empire’s last world, Earth. The attack plan was already discussed and approved, the fleet was functioning perfectly and we still had half an hour in hyperspace. The last thought put a wry smile on my face. We even adopted their time system. It was understandable; the bastards conquered half of the galaxy.
With nothing else to do, my mind drifted back into old memories. Zirmund, my home world, was one of their first targets. There was no declaration of war, no demands, and no negotiations. The humans simply wanted to claim everything we had and they succeeded, but Zirmund was by no means the last victim. The Empire’s rampage echoed throughout the galaxy as they claimed planet after planet, system after system. The Union was slow, indecisive, hesitant. No one wanted another galactic war. Everyone hoped that just one more world, just one more dot on the map will satisfy them. Only by the end we realised that these creatures lived the war. Their complete fixation on conquering and destroying everything in their path was like a collective madness that overtook the entire species. Nothing would stop them; no amount of reasoning could ever lead to a stable peace. Once we understood that, there was only one choice: destroy them completely.
“Sir, we are exiting hyperspace in 5 minutes, arriving to Earth on schedule,” one of the bridge officers reported.
“Good, what’s the situation?” I asked mostly out of habit.
“Everything according to plan, the other four fleets of the Union will arrive shortly, but even our force is greater than what we expect near Earth,” the officer answered back.
The last couple of battles crippled the enemy’s forces and all that was left is to finish the deal. For the first time, victory seemed close. And yet there was something more. Information from spies on other worlds and numerous interrogations hinted at a “secret weapon”, something the humans were building since the start of the Union’s counterattack. We tried numerous times to get special agents onto Earth, but all of those attempts failed. The Empire was hiding something back home, I was sure of it.
For a second it seemed like time itself slowed down to a crawl. I was used to the effect by now; it meant we arrived into real space. I walked over to the navigation panel and took a quick glance. We were off the mark. Earth was out of reach for the short range sensors; that was not supposed to happen.
“Launch a long range scan,” I ordered.
The bridge signal officer quickly made his way towards me, saluted and reported in a hasty manner:
“Sir, there is an incoming signal from hyperspace. They are requesting communication.”
“Is it from one of the other fleets?” I asked.
“No, Sir, they identify themselves as a Human Empire military vessel,” he replied nervously.
“Accept,” I answered, clenching my teeth. This did not bode well.
After a few seconds an image of a man in an Empire uniform appeared on the screen. He had short black hair with a few grey strands and dark-green eyes. The uniform had a few unfamiliar pieces. “Probably means a high rank,” I thought. For some reason, the man was smiling.
“My name is Reiner Bernat. I am the supreme commander of the Human Empire’s military forces and captain of the battleship Terra. I am here to accept your unconditional surrender,” the man calmly stated.
These games were tiring me. Resisting the temptation to turn off the communications, I simply answered:
“My name is admiral Refiras. I refuse.”
Captain Bernat nodded and the screen went dark.
“Sir, a large ship is approaching from hyperspace. The readings don’t make any sense. They must be using some sort of cloaking technology to hide their actual size and location. I will attempt to…”
The signal officer didn’t finish his thought. Everyone on the bridge was staring at the main display in silence. Even though no sound could traverse the vacuum outside, I could swear I heard the roar of a million hyperdrives as they propelled the huge mass forward. Gigantic weaponry rose in place of mountains and cities. The once blue and green surface was now covered in dark metal. Countless ships flew in and out like bees around their hive. More and more of “battleship Terra” appeared from hyperspace, casting its shadow upon us. The terrifying machine sprang into action, laying waste all around it. All I could do was look in disbelief as my fleet was torn to shreds by this monstrous monument to one civilization’s talent for destruction. There was nothing we could do.
Earth was approaching. | ***You are my sunshine...***
"Sing it again!"
"Jessie, you have to go to sleep now, it's a school night."
"Please?"
The man smiled as he gently stroked his daughter's head. "All right. One more time."
***...my only sunshine...***
The father took one last look at the life he built for himself. He gazed upon it for the longest time, for now his world was about to be split in two.
Two pieces.
The life he built.
And the life he lost.
"You promised me! You promised me you wouldn't go away again!" protested his daughter. She pounded her little feeble fists against his chest, yet all he could do was stare at the woman standing at the doorway, crying. A woman who he deeply cared about.
"Honey, I'm comin' back, okay? I'm gonna be right back here before you know it, to tuck you in..."
He promised them a future.
***...You make me happy...***
The rancid stench of charred flesh lingered like morning fog in the demolished plaza. Red flashes assaulted his eyes, his battered hands caressing the concrete as he maneuvered around for the flank.
"Contact, ground floor! Three X-Rays-" called out the corporal next to him.
A chunk the size of a volleyball was promptly removed from the corporal's shoulder, his eyes in utter shock. Seconds later his head was gone. Just gone.
The soldier froze up, legs unwilling to move, watching the mechanical abominations fall from the heavens to deliver his men a grisly hell.
***...when skies are gray...***
Four caskets were sprawled out through the walkways, taking up precious space inside a church which still managed to find strength in the divine. The night was still, save for the constant shake of the ground from the nearby mortars.
"Hi, this is Captain Coates, special forces... requesting a transmission to my wife, Annabelle Coates-"
"Sir...(Static)...we are under heavy load- (static)- advisable that-(Static)-apologize. Please try again-"
"Look, I'll wait. As long as it takes. I just wanna hear from my family...my daughter...her name is Jessie, can you-"
*(Static)*
The captain unleashed his rage, spewing curses that coated the walls in poison, his armored fists smashing a bench into smithereens.
Blood, sweat, tears, and rubble.
This was his world now. He had been in denial of it for so long, but there it was. Watching him as he gazed back.
***...You'll never know dear...***
The ships blotted out the sun's rays.
So humanity retreated into the ground, where the bodies were buried.
But the invaders were sly and cunning.
They burrowed into the dirt...to meet the shrieking masses. The tunnels became flooded, but not with water. Water doesn't look like that.
One by one, the speckles of light began to flicker and fade across the lands, swallowed by the greedy maw of darkness.
***...how much I love you...***
The earth began to scream, but the rape would continue for decades.
For every victory, came three more insufferable massacres.
For every starship shot down, two more took its place.
But the man fought on, with renewed purpose formed from the ashes of the fallen.
The heads up display blared worrying readings, but he ignored them. His armor was slick with blood, both alien and human. Taking a fresh grip on his shotgun, he charged forth, meeting the angry red eyes of the enemy.
***"Please don't take...my sunshine...away.***
Loving father.
Faithful son.
Grieving widower.
A hardened commander.
Humanity's final hope.
| 2015-08-02T18:21:48 | 2015-08-02T17:00:00 | 35 | 25 |
[WP] One night, something grabs your hand as it hangs off the edge of the bed. You give it a firm handshake. "You're hired," it whispers. | Smoke circles puff into the light, dissipating as memories on the wind. A child can dream up such things while lying in bed, a curious observation between imagination and the reality that is. A hand creeps up from under the duvet, it is stark white, paper snow against Autumn coloured covers. The child doesn't know how to respond, doing what they have learned in elementary. A firm handshake follows.
"You're hired," a voice says, it sounds old and ashy as if each syllable creeps up and over the sheets into the child's ears.
"I'm hired?" mutters the child. "What the heck is that?"
"Take something that isn't yours before tomorrow night," the voice croaks back.
The child rolls over leaf printings and onto a dust covered carpet. The grey threads are like a minefield filled with hairs and odd bits of dirt. "Where are you, mister?" the child asks.
And as the covers are pulled back, a breath is drawn, fast enough to send the heart racing but not followed by fear. Because unlike the expectation, there is no mister there, only the memory of a voice and an empty under area.
"Tomorrow night," says a whisper on the wind.
The child goes carefully to sleep.
| I don't let go after during the shake and I ripe what is attached to my hand up on the bed. It's a leprechaun. If it can shake a persons hand say they're hired and the person excepts, then they switch lives. But if the leprechaun is caught while trying to make this deal, he has to grant one wish. I wish for the one thing I've always wanted, to become a leprechaun. | 2017-04-29T00:40:47 | 2017-04-28T23:36:59 | 32 | 10 |
[WP] A seemingly bottomless pit was found, for which the depth can't be determined. Over time, scores of people began using it to illegally dump trash. Many have jumped in to die, while others jumped believing that they'll find life's answers within it. Today, we learn the truth about the hole. | On the first day of summer, two thousand and eighteen years after the estimated birthdate of a Jewish carpenter whom a Roman emperor named Constantine called the Son of God, a hole was found in Greenland.
It was almost perfectly circular and as wide as a city block, with smooth vertical walls cutting down into the ice and further, and at the end only darkness. The scientists came first, with their probes and instruments; they lowered them into the hole, people and sensors and flying robots insulated with high-tech foams. They found nothing. That's not true--they found smooth, vertical walls, cutting deep beneath the ice, and they found darkness. For weeks they tested, debated, analyzed, debated, published, and debated some more. On the last day of summer, two thousand and eighteen years after the beginning of a moderately-accurate calendar developed by uneducated monks in early feudal Europe, the scientists ran out of money, so they left.
On the first day of autumn, the superstitious began to appear. Some brought crosses representing an ancient Roman torture device, others brought rugs which they oriented in the direction of a large stone cube in Saudi Arabia, and still others brought hats made of aluminum foil to protect their brains. Some brought nothing; some stripped naked, sat on the edge attempting to reach a new mental state, and subsequently got hypothermia. Some threw themselves into the hole. No one knew what they found down there, aside from perfectly smooth, vertical walls cutting down through solid bedrock, and darkness.
On the first day of winter, two thousand and eighteen years after the wife of a different Jewish carpenter claimed to still be a virgin while pregnant, the army arrived. They kicked out the superstitious, and all but a few scientists. They covered the hole with a giant steel dome with just one door, shining lights all around the perimeter. No one, from the young men with wet socks to the older men with star-shaped pins on their pockets, knew what they were looking for. Whatever it was, they wouldn't find it, unless it was smooth, vertical walls cutting down past the bedrock, and below that darkness.
Seasons passed, people died, and some other, probably not much better people were born. In Greenland, the army grew bored in the customary fashion and began to go home, one or two people at a time so the hole wouldn't think it was because they were scared. The superstitious continued praying and blogging, and the rich superstitious people asked the poor superstitious people for more money. The scientists published twice as many papers with five times as many words and ten times as many wrong words. The hole stayed where it was, a perfect circle cut into the rock and ice, bottomless, filled with nothing but darkness.
Then, on the first day of summer, two thousand and twenty years after the first anniversary of a worldwide bank holiday marked by increased buying rates, repetitive music, and religious guilt, the corporations showed up. They paid what was left of the army a lot of money to take away their steel dome, and then they began to pour tons of garbage into the hole. First they poured in ten thousand tons of spoiled food, packing paper, and colorful everlasting plastic down past the smooth vertical walls stretching away into the void. Then they poured in a hundred thousand tons of crushed cars, spent ore, and petroleum residue, making it all disappear forever into the circle of oblivion. Then they poured in a million tons of toxic chemicals, uranium and chlorofluorocarbons and heavy metals and polluted water. Gone forever, relegated to the unfathomable maw of the bottomless hole.
And then they heard it.
On the one million, one hundred and eleven thousandth ton of putrid trash dumped into the hole, someone heard the pieces hit the bottom.
The corporations called the army, and the army called the scientists, and the scientists confirmed that the corporations had done with their million tons of trash what they with their billion dollars of equipment could not: they had found the bottom of the hole. The hole, almost perfectly circular, with smooth vertical walls stretching down through the ice and rock, exactly nineteen hundred and forty-three meters into a swamp of human waste.
The scientists took some measuremets, amended their papers, and left. The army left too, slowly, in the customary fashion. The corporations left too, after dumping another million tons of dreck into the hole just to be sure. The superstitious tore their hair out as more money changed hands. They proclaimed it through screens and adio waves and high-frequency satellite relays: today, two thousand and twenty years after something that may have happened to influence another thing that was probably influenced by something different and at an entirely different time, the hole was filled, and something died in the soul of every person on the planet. And time continued to pass.
Then, on the first day of summer, three years after a nearly-circular hole in the ice the size of a city block and a bit over a mile deep was found in Greenland, a cliffside that looked like the Buddha's face was found in Sumatra and went viral on YouTube. | Alex sat at her desk, trying to focus on the work at hand - expense reports had been piling up for weeks now, but there was seemingly not enough time in the work day to keep up with the increased number of reports that had been submitted lately. It was year end, after all, and the company had done extremely well this year.
The trouble was the sheer number of distractions visible from her seat on the 47th floor. Having only been relocated recently from an older building, she wasn't used to such a madhouse of activity. With over three hundred workers confined to each floor, The Plaza was currently the largest office building in the city (although not for long - several more were under construction that were an order of magnitude larger). From her seat in the northeast corner, she could see countless screens pouring information out to the others. Some cubicles had upwards of 6 or 7 monitors! Worse than that, though, were the giant TV projections located between each aisle of desks, each blaring out quarterly projections, news articles, weather, and company stock information.
She stared mindlessly at one of these TV projections, currently showing a news report detailing the preparations undergone by a daredevil before their upcoming attempt to parachute into The Pit, before turning her gaze out the window, to the sea of multi-coloured chutes and tubes that still astonished her so, even weeks after relocating to this floor.
The Pit, as it was referred to, had become a central feature of the city. With immeasurable depth comes immeasurable opportunity, and the corporations and powers that be had jumped at the opportunity to increase their appearance of social responsibility and wealth. For years now, humanity had poured their garbage into The Pit, and to great effect. Entire landfills had been excavated, dumped into The Pit, and turned into prime farmland. Every garbage collection route in the city now ended at a disposal plant that poured a continuous cascade of waste into the depths, an attraction referred to as the 'debrisfall' that spawned a whole industry of Pit-watcher tourism - you could even walk out over the debrisfall on a glass walkway, although Alex couldn't fathom why someone would want to do such a thing. The true spectacle, in her opinion, was located between the numerous gigantic office buildings that lined the rim of The Pit. Jutting out from every floor of every building was a tube, chute, or slide of seemingly random colour and shape that stuck out into the open air, and occasionally shot out a piece of garbage to be sucked down into the void below. As she watched, a trash bag from a floor above her careened down past her floor. She glanced up to to see if more would follow, but with hundreds of floors above her it was impossible to see past the untold number of chutes reflecting multi-coloured light downwards.
Just then, her computer beeped a reminder, and a few of her coworkers excitedly got up and started moving their way over to the window. Today was a Demolition Day, and it was her old office building that was scheduled to fall. In order to keep up with the constant growth of the city, a few of the older office buildings lining the rim of The Pit were being demolished to allow for newer, taller ones to be built. There was a rumble of sound, and she looked out towards the farthest corner of The Pit, where several explosive charges had sent up a huge cloud of particulate. Her old office building, much smaller at only 65 floors, started crumbling before her eyes. More charges exploded, sending concrete and glass in a spray outwards over The Pit. The building started to instead crumble outwards, rather than straight down. Alex felt shaking rise up through her new building while the other tumbled fully into The Pit, leaving behind a minimal amount of debris to be bulldozed in after it.
Alex looked back at her stack of reports and wished she could throw it in after her old building. The Pit was an opportunity, she supposed, a lifeline for a world that had become over-encumbered with waste, trash, and filth. From her vantage point on the 47th floor of a building containing tens of thousands of people working tirelessly, however, it didn't feel so much like one. | 2018-01-13T09:28:39 | 2018-01-13T07:48:15 | 20 | 12 |
[WP]Doctors think you are colorblind, but really you only see humans in color, and the colors are judges of morality. The best people are gold, the worst are red, totally medium is blue. Today, you meet someone who is constantly changing colors, including colors that aren’t on your morality scale. |
“What number do you see?”
The doctors always asked, but all I could see were sporadically placed dots. They would scratch away at their papers with scowls as they assumed I was faking it. How could someone see a world with no colors? They probably asked themselves.
My world is dark, my world is light, my world is dull. Even the most vibrant gardens were nothing but a mess of grays and whites. I can’t see any of the things normal people see as beautiful. But I have something different. A gift or a curse, maybe. Perhaps my world was nothing but a gray scale so I could see my gift clearer, I would think.
I’ve only told a handful of people about what I can do, though none of them believe me. It’s just some horoscope bullshit, at least that’s what they told me. But if you stood in front of me, I could tell whether you exactly what kind of person you were. I can see your aura.
The colors I see only permeate from people’s souls, I’m unsure if the colors I see are the correct labels, for I’ve never seen what a rainbow looks like.
I used my talent to surround myself with wonderful people. My ability always leads me to relationships that make me a better person. The bias of normal humans is nothing like my own. Skin color, height, weight, gender, none of that mattered to me, they were all just gray anyway. I sought those who radiated gold, and if possible, avoided the red people at all costs.
When I had already settled on my beliefs, assuming I had my power all figured out, a strange occurrence changed my world view forever.
The woman was in her forties, hair tied in a hasty tight bun, reading a book over square spectacles with one leg resting over the other, and a cup of coffee glued to her lip. She saw me starring and raised an eyebrow. Undisturbed, she went back to her book, accustomed to a stranger's gaze. Everyone had a color, but not her, she was a drip of gasoline in water. Thousands of colors pulsed out from her, not mashing together into a brown, instead moving so fast by the time I recognized a shade it vanished into another hue.
I thumbed the straps of my book bag and decided I must investigate. When I approached her she didn’t bother looking up from her book and only pulled her coffee far away enough from her lips to speak.
“I don’t do autographs, and I don’t do selfies.”
I furrowed my brow, wondering if she were a celebrity. When I stood there confused, she placed her cup and the book on the table and folded her fingers over her knee. Looking at me expectantly.
My own parents didn’t believe in my powers, how could I explain it to a stranger? “Um… Hi… I uh. Do you know anything about morality?”
She smirked, “Is that a question or are you antagonizing me?”
I shook my head, “I was just curious is all. You have… there’s something about you.”
“Is it my internet video’s on psychology that have blown up over the past four years?” she laughed, not even asking, assuming I had seen them.
Camera’s cannot see what I see. So I rarely bother watching anything besides people. In a world like mine, isolation was maddening. “No ma’am. I don’t watch TV. I’m Will by the way.”
“Will, huh? That’s an odd question for someone who doesn’t know me. Why did you figure to ask me?”
“Your aura—” I bit my lip, I spoke without thinking. Now she’d think I was a loon.
“Aura? Interesting, what kind of aura do I have?”
If she was mocking me, I couldn’t sense it. Her chin poked forward and her eyes focused on mine.
“Your aura is always changing. I can’t tell what color it is.”
She leaned back in her chair thoughtfully pressing the tips of her index fingers to her lips. “I see, and what do these auras mean to you?”
“They’re a person’s morality. The colors I see change based on how good or bad a person is.”
She sighed, “Good or bad? Isn’t that strange?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Perhaps my aura is the way it is because I understand something you don’t.”
“Like what?”
“Do you really think a person is inherently good or evil?”
“I always figured that…” my voice cracked, and I was unsure of myself.
“Will,” she leaned forward, “people are malleable, anything and everything can change us. If you use your preconceived notions of judgment, you may miss out on wonderful and meaningful relationships.”
I took a step back. All these years I had been surrounding myself with people with high morals. I had judged people with a single glance, what kind of person can do that. Not one with a golden aura, that was for sure. “I see,” I said nodding.
“I’m glad you do,” and like that the woman retreated back into her book. I said thanks but a curt nod was the only sign she had heard me. I ran out the door and into the street surrounded by people all blazing their colors and smiled. My world had just become a lot more vibrant.
&#x200B;
/r/QuarkLaserdisc | **(For scientific purposes, I changed up the colours a bit. Hope that's okay. Following the colour spectrum; red is good, violet is bad.)**
&#x200B;
"You're protanopic."
&#x200B;
The man in the white lab coat—*doctor*, he claims, they all claim, but how could he possibly be a doctor if he doesn't understand?—hovers over you, a sterilised pointed tool hooking at your eye, and a curved mirror with which he looks into it. You're vaguely aware that a procedure so sensitive as this is supposed to be uncomfortable, but frankly, you're too distracted by the colour frenzy taking place before your eyes to care about any meagre discomfort.
&#x200B;
The man's entire body, save for the white of the uniform, is red like an apple (really good! A saint, an angel) and purple like a grape (darkest of the darkest evils, you note, shuddering with some horror) and red again and then seems to explode in colours you've never seen in your life and cannot possibly begin to describe.
&#x200B;
"I'm not colourblind," you protest. "I have this thing where people change colour based on how morally good or bad they are. That's all."
&#x200B;
"Yes," the doctor says quite casually, and there's no trace of disbelief in it and you're honestly quite shocked. "Yes, I concluded as much. The scans of your eye indicate that, especially in conjunction with the ones of your brain. I haven't written you a formal diagnosis yet, but you're certainly what we call chromaintuitsynaesthesic. Simply put, your brain takes the signals your gut feelings of someone is telling you and observes that intuition in place of where you'd normally register colour."
&#x200B;
Now you're trying to focus on him through the cacophony of colours, unstable and volatile, exploding in a discordant aura of almost-reds around him. He's good, your eyes seem to be telling you, but you can't be sure because truly you don't recognise this colour and it's messing with your mind.
&#x200B;
"But still," he cuts in, "you're protanopic."
&#x200B;
"I—what?"
The doctor hums. (*Yes, he's a doctor,* you relinquish reluctantly.) "I've done some colour-correction for you that hopefully will stabilise and allow you to perceive red hues soon, which means you won't get red and green confused."
&#x200B;
Something clicks in your mind. "Wait," you say, "if I'm seeing new colours—reds—now, and it's not fully stable—does that mean the colour I'm seeing on you is true red? And all the reds I've seen before are not?"
"Some of the reds you've perceived before are likely green or violet." He intones expressionlessly.
&#x200B;
*Gasp!* Your best friend isn't the moral saint you've always thought she was. In fact, if she's violet, then she may even grow up to be a murderer or other dangerous felony. Time to expose all her deepest secrets on Instagram, you affirm to yourself decidedly.
&#x200B;
On the other hand... the doctor's red. *The doctor's red,* and quite possibly the first real red you've seen in your life.
&#x200B;
"What made you a saint?" You blurt, then reflexively cover your mouth. "Uh—I mean—"
&#x200B;
"I'm morally well, right?" He clicks his tongue contentedly. "I've saved sixty cancer patients this year alone and resuscitated one we thought to be terminal, as well as helped those who've suffered freak accidents, not to mention my side hobby of optometrical surgery for people such as yourself. I reckon that's enough to get me into the universe's good books."
&#x200B;
"Optometrical surgery as a *hobby*?" You exclaim, incredulous.
&#x200B;
"Yup." He smiles at you. "Followed it after having been diagnosed with eye conditions myself as a young boy. By the way," he winks, but arranges his face back into a professional mask so smoothly you can't be sure you've seen it at all, "you're red." | 2019-05-27T13:02:34 | 2019-05-27T12:48:07 | 160 | 34 |
[WP] It is the year 2XXX. Medical science has advanced so far that complete body restoration is possible. However, patients revived from death consistently end up in a vegetative state and no one knows why. You are the first person to revive and retain their cognition. Now you know. | I can only REMEMBER.
Deep the twisting eddies shriek of lands of paradise lost and echoes yet to reverb.
"You're not making any sense," the doctor says with a sigh. I am another failure.
I remember the bottle. My savior, my harsh master. The years I spent gathering myself, pretending to be normal. Smiling at family, at friends, as I drowned in the burning sea to hide from the old night. The sea burned it all away, like the river Lethe. Everything that I was. But still I could smile, could lie.
"N-no, I-I-I...I am not a failure." I gasped at last. The words made no more sense than my smiles. I was beyond them and beneath them. But I could lie, still. And the mask I wore once I could wear again, though now it hid another kind of nothingness.
The doctor-man stopped, turned. "You...I understood that." He was shocked, amazed. "Do you know where you are?"
"Saint Mary's Hospital in Dulce, Ohio." I lied.
His brow furrowed. "I mean...that you are alive and in a hospital. How...did I mention the name of the hospital?"
THE MASK HAD SLIPPED THE MASK HAD SLIPPED.
"I heard it," I half-lied. The lies wrapped in truth were the hardest to uncover.
He nodded, but seemed unconvinced.
"Listen I must speak...I need to talk...to...family. And...important people." I lied again, to move him from his suspicions.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible quite yet," he explained, pretending gentleness. "Your body is still recovering, and that you speak at all is a first for science!"
NO NO NO. I cannot WAIT. I REMEMBER.
I raise myself but I forget to lie, and the doctor recoils and staggers back. "Jesus fucking Christ" he yells, tripping backwards.
I lock eyes on him and I speak the Truth, veiled in lies so he might understand it. He screams understanding, screams as he plunges a scalpel through his eye and into his brain. He REMEMBERS now.
I move to the door. This time I lie a little. "There's been an accident," I call out in faux-panic. "I need help!" | The cool logical void I was in where everything made sense was violently disrupted by warm fuzzy static. Nothing made sense anymore, every thought ^sliced ^^apart in^to p^ie ^^c ^es. One moment I was hurtling at high subluminal speeds towards Uranus -- the next -- I -- . The world returned to the cool logical void again, its infinite blackness covering and absorbing everything.
Faraway I heard someone calling a name. A physical sound, unlike directly transmitted thought of the telepathy comms we used aboard the system voyager.
"Katherine? Dr Hayes?" I squinted my eyes, and tried to force them open. They refused.
"Her eyes are attempting to open...we did it...!" Someone whispered in awe.
"Filling the tanks." I felt a warm syrupy liquid start to pool beneath my back. The voices became clearer as my hearing got better. I felt more relax, as if I was at home. I willed my eyes to open again. Two large octopi stared down at me, masks dangling off their strange heads.
I rolled my eyes around, frantically thrashing my limbs. A sucker-filled appendage slapped me in the face. "OW!"
"She's panicking, she's panicking ! Drain the water, now!"
I felt the water recede beneath my back. As the water drained I felt my energy levels drop precipitously. The last thing I saw from my wide-angled eyes were _four_ limbs on each side...
[ to be continued ] | 2020-10-30T03:42:39 | 2020-10-30T02:29:54 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] Oddly enough, reincarnation is simply a character creation screen on an old arcade machine. Being a gamer in your past life, you jokingly input the konami code, which to your surprise makes a message pop up saying: "Developer Mode Unlocked." | Dying of cancer is no easy feat, dying twice of the same malady produces a kind of resilience in you, instilling a sense of curiosity; How to escape this dreaded limbo?
It was my second time in the same room, white walls surrounding me, blankness all around, except for an old arcade machine, the same one from the first time, waiting for me, silently whispering its incantantations, nudging me towards it.
At first, I spent a lot of time trying to make sense of my surroundings. After a while, I noticed it was all futile, as time and space didn't exist in that room, not even my watch moved forward. Whenever I tried to escape the room I was trapped in, if you can even call it a room, I would be back at the same place where I started. It was a limbo alright, a cursed one at that, at least from my perspective.
Back to the machine, I thought to myself while flitting around, trying once more to escape, but it was all for nothing, I already knew.
The machine itself was rather unimpressive, an impassive and stout arcade model stemming from the 80's, only it wasn't filled with games like Pac-Man or Space Pinball, but a character creation screen. It was my character creation screen, I knew that all too well, as the first try had gone terribly awry, as I thought of the entire room as a bad dream. I went on to create a cherub on my first try, giving it ample luck, a lot of dexterity and charisma, but forgoing its strength and stamina.
When I pressed the 'Enter' button, I was blown away by a terrible blinding wind, my entire body or what remained of it, convulsed and everything started swirling around me, it was nauseating. Finally, I regained consciousness at around my third year on planet Earth and it was already known that I would have been a dwarf, there was nothing that could be done about it, the doctors moaned. HGH wouldn't help in my case.
At that moment I knew that reincarnation was real and that the Buddhists were somewhat right in their predictions of the afterlife.
I lived my life to the best of my abilities, using charm and guile to enchant the ladies and make friends of my enemies. It was a fun existence, cut short by the cancer I mentioned earlier.
But I'm getting sidetracked, back to the room and the machine. The controls were eerily resembling those of a PlayStation joystick, with one B and A button and those tiny up, down, right and left arrows.
As a joke, I typed in the well-known Konami code, as if cheating were possible in the real world. How did it go once again? I think it was up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B and lastly, A. I got it on the first try! My mother told me that being a gamer was a lousy way to spend my time on Earth. How wrong she was!
As I pressed enter, a light flashed in the bottom corner of the screen with a message engraved in it: ''Developer Mode Unlocked.''
I laughed out loud, was this some kind of sick and twisted joke made by a merciless God that is forcing me to relive my days as a mortal time and time again?
Among the options, I could now see stuff like 'Immunity', 'Immortality', 'Omniscience' and other types of powers displayed in front of me. They were all 'Off' in the settings menu and I activated all of them.
With a wry smile on my face, I looked up into the heavens, hoping to see something, but it was the all-consuming blankness that stared back at me.
Guess there is only one way to find out, I uttered to myself, pressing the 'Enter' button and launching myself back into the living world as an immortal being.
[PART TWO](https://www.reddit.com/r/Innerknightmare/comments/gv666w/part_two_wp_oddly_enough_reincarnation_is_simply/) |
Dying sucks. Dying twice doesn’t make it any easier. Okay, sure, I was resuscitated the first time, but it still counts. Still, when I saw the old arcade machine again, I was pretty surprised it wasn’t a dream.
… How did I die again? Oh, right, I got brained by something. Must have caved my skull in.
I scratched the back of my neck, noting how old the place looked. Three grey walls that were peeling and rotting surrounded me, and the only exit was a door sat in a void with an exit sign above it. Right up against the wall was the machine itself, looking like it had seen better days. The sides were faded, and there was a layer of dust on it that would give even a moderate clean-freak a heart attack. The screen itself was black.
I walked up to it, cautious, and pressed a button. It whirred and crackled to life, announcing cheerily “Welcome to the Game of Life! Please enter your new details, and exit through the door behind you!” It reminded me of an overzealous car salesman I met once. He was far too happy about a potential sale that put me off from grabbing a car from his place, all plastic smiles and kindness.
Taking a look at the screen, I could see several options. There was Settings, obviously, and a bunch of other choices, such as gender, race, parentage… some of it was greyed out. Flicking the joystick about, I could highlight them, but none of the buttons would allow me to access them. So I tried a different track; the Konami Code. I never used it myself, though it worked on all their games as far as I was aware. Despite this, I knew the code, or at least most of it, thanks to my watching of a certain anime. I began shifting the stick and pressing the buttons, which resulted in failure the first time. I tried again, changing the combination a bit, cursing my memory. I definitely knew that Start was supposed to be last, yet it still didn’t work.
It began with “left, left, right, right,” didn’t it? I tried a third time, to no avail. Was I being an idiot? Or did it just not work? I put in one last potential combination. If I was wrong, I was wrong. I pressed Start, and looked at the screen.
Nothing.
…Wait…
In the corner, at the bottom left, was another option. “DEV MODE.” It was small, inconspicuous, like the shy kid at school who’d huddle themselves into the corner and stare at the others silently.
I blinked. I didn’t take a good look at the options in the first place, but I decided to see what this particular option offered.
&#x200B;
I don’t think I ought to describe what happened next. The machine is capable of giving you the absolute best life with its default mode. You could be whoever or whatever you wanted. But the hidden developer’s mode had offered more than that. It was the difference between being offered a life and a world. However, to you reading this; I would consider weighing up both sides of the argument that you should use such a thing.
Power comes with a hefty price indeed/. | 2020-06-01T09:22:48 | 2020-06-01T08:09:28 | 1,275 | 305 |
[WP]You have been caged without a writing utensil for years because what you write comes true. The doctor examining you just left his... | In the end, it was a fluke that let me out. An accident. The kind of thing that makes you yell at the Tv because someone just made a mistake. THE mistake. The one that drives the entire plot.
I was honestly surprised. Really the prison staff are as close to perfect as it's possible to get. They know how dangerous I can be. How much I want to get out.
Later, the new stations crucify my nice new therapist. He's young and sincere and everything that would have made him a great doctor. Maybe I'll get him out later. I did actually like him, and I know I'm crazy.
But see, he made a bad mistake. His pen fell off his clipboard and he didn't notice. I ignored it for hours because I know they watch me when he leaves to see if I do anything new.
I might be crazy but I'm not stupid.
The pen isn't anything special when I do pick it up. Just a cheap ballpoint, but more dangerous than a gun in MY hands. Immediately alarms start to scream, but not fast enough.
(The door cannot be unlocked) I write on the clean white of my sheets. (The gas canisters all malfunction.)
That takes care of their quick countermeasures against me.
Next trick.
(I am dressed in the finest quality suit, tailored to me perfectly)
No need to do this without style.
(A pad of clean, lined paper rests on the table)
When I look up again, the paper is there. I switch to that for the sake of convenience. The new suit whispers against my skin, everything a good suit ought to be.
The guards are banging on the door- which is, of course, completely locked. I smile. I almost forgot how much fun this is.
(The guards abruptly realize what terrible people their comrades are, and kill each other.)
Gunfire cracks outside. I can hear the screams from inside. Very satisfying. I haven't killed anyone since they put me on here.
(The door swings open)
I gather up my few belongings- a rather good novel I haven't finished and my pad of paper- and my new pen- and walk out into the hall. The guards lay scattered about. One is still alive. I step over him. He will not live. I wrote his death.
(There is no opposition on the way outside, where a car and driver wait)
My first breath of fresh air as a free man is like being reborn. I soak it in. The weak autumn sunlight and wall towards the car- luxurious but not extravagant and with government plates. The driver- he wasn't real until I wrote him- holds the door.
"Where to, sir?" He asks when I'm ensconced on fine leather seats and we're putting down the road.
I smile again. Time to wreak some havoc.
"The art store," I tell him, and tuck my pen into my breast pocket. I could make more, but there is something special about choosing just the right one from a box at the store. "I find myself needing pens.
| "What a dumb ass," I muttered as I palmed the pen from the mahogany desk of Dr. Phillips. I wouldn't have time to get anything written yet, but if I can just manage to hide this pen for the rest of our 1 hour session and get back to my cell - they refer to it as a room, but you can leave rooms - then I'll be able to fix this. All of this.
Dr. Phillips is back in the room now, his plump stomach pushing on the suspenders he was thumbing absent-mindedly. It was the same ole, same ole. We would discuss my childhood, my teenage years, and honestly anything that the man wanted to discuss. I had already dealt with the experiments and the physical examinations, but once the doctors realized there was nothing physically special about me, my body, or my brain, they sent me to a psych ward for mental evaluations.
10 minutes left.
He still hasn't noticed his chrome plated pen is missing from the desk, but I'm starting to get nervous now. Do I try to scribble something on my palm or do I wait it out? Dr. Phillips is a good man, I refuse to wipe him from existence with a couple words, I will not every hurt anyone with my words, not again.
2 minutes left.
This is the homestretch, I can hold out until I make it to my room. Phillips has closed his notebook and started packing up for the day, it was a good session he tells me. I just told him what he wanted to hear, but I'm glad he feels we've accomplished something.
"Now where did my pen go," Dr. Phillips mutters while shuffling papers around on his desk. *Oh shit, oh shit, this is bad.* He pats his pockets and slowly pans his eyes up to me. *It's now or never*
I pulled the pen from my sleeve and quickly pushed the tip into my palm. Dr. Phillips is climbing over his desk now, his fat fingers grasping at air, reaching for purchase, but it was too late, I was gone and sitting on a beach somewhere in Hawaii. Thanks to this little pen, I'll be able to start my life over again, no one will know my powers, I'll make sure of it.
| 2017-06-25T09:16:47 | 2017-06-25T06:45:47 | 329 | 65 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | The human soldier had been fighting without rest for three days.
The enemies attacks had claimed the use of his right arm and maimed half his body, but still he fought on.
As he closed his eyes during an all too frequent lull in the fighting and prayed death didn’t claim him, what was probably the last thing he could have expected to happen.... happened.
He found himself in an arena, surrounded by cheering crowds and strange horrors the likes of which even his darkest nightmares could not have dreamed up, as a voice in his head bellowed, to the great pleasure of the crowd, that the “Great Battle Royale” was about to begin.
Meanwhile above him, the organisers of the fight noticed something was off, the human was already injured, grevioiesly so, and covered in both his own and other humans blood, a handicap like this would break the spirit of the tournament so they started to make moves to send him back to Earth before the superior species of the Galaxy got to him.
Right before they could however, it was their turn to face the unexpected, dropping to one knee the human braced his primitive, crude, but brutal rifle on his maimed arm and fired a single shot at the nearest foe, a Dog Warriors of Zargon Prime, one of the favourites for the tournament, and to their shock the large, heavy and archaic bullet from his gun passed without trouble through the Warriors shields and shattered the ceramic face plate, both of which were designed to provide maximum survivability against plasma weaponry, killing it instantly.
He then did this nine more times, cycling the bolt with one hand while maintaining his aim and focus, wiping out most of his rivals in a hail of precision rifle fire, until all that were left was he and the Multi Armed Horror of the Terror Vortex, a creature rebound for its agility and fierce intelligence.
In response, the human threw a rock, a strange metal rock the Horror caught with frightening ease, bribing close to its face to examine as it laughed at the pitiful attack, not noticing that the human has already dived for cover right before the grenade exploded, turning it from biology into physics.
This primitive, crippled human defeating the greatest killers in the galaxy angered the organisers, so they sent their trump card against him, the previous champion, a being of pure combat and the upmost honour, a Royal Guard from the Vox Regime. But once again, things did not go their way, as the Guard entered the arena the human threw down his now empty rifle and drew an inward curving blade, pointing it at the new challenger before bellowing in what the local translation fields interpreted as “COME AND FIGHT A GURKAH!” at their champion who, to the organisers horror, obliged by stripping off his armour and abandoning all weapons save a single blade of his own, to make it a fair fight.
He did not last 10 seconds in a fair fight, the human taking his head with shocking ease. Fearing what letting such a deadly fighting stick around would do, especially one from a species considered to barely be worth including due to their supposed weakness, the organisers hurriedly teleported him back to his trench on Earth, just in time for Lachhiman Gurung to see British reinforcements approaching to drive off the last Japanese attack....
Putting his experiences in the alien arena down to an injury and fatigued induced fever dream, the one armed Gurkha would never know he saved many other humans the horror of being abducted to be slaughtered for sport... | "You bet on the human?" my friend asks. "Tool-reliant creatures never do well."
"Just got to get one with the right tools," I say. "We use tools, don't we?"
"It's not the same."
"Sure it is. If you had a weapon, instead of food, even you'd do pretty well. Have you seen their planet's record?" It was not a good record. Their planet used to do rather well, but...
"No, I stopped caring when they stopped sending lizards. Mega-fauna always wins."
He's not completely wrong, either. Big animals are hard to kill, and their sheer mass is a weapon. Smaller creatures hunt in packs. Twelve times out of thirteen, the victory goes to a big, intelligent carnivore that hunts alone. Humans are none of those.
Humans are small. They rely on teamwork. They rely on tools. Without tools, they're weak, even by their own planet's standards. But, the Judges don't care about that. They care about aptitude, and species that use tools have a *very* high aptitude.
We fall quiet as the arena is revealed. The contestants appear, frozen in the same position they were summoned. They are made to understand. Kill or be killed. Survivors are rewarded with freedom and more.
I have always loved the area. It is massive, and tailored to the species that would be fighting in it. Rivers, forests, grasslands, mountains, deserts and canyons. I do not remember how many times I have seen it. It is still awe-inspiring.
But, I don't have time for that. The contestants are about to start moving. With a bit of help, I spot it. Usually, they drop humans at the border between the grasslands and the forest. This year was no exception.
It is a male, but the tools and textiles look a bit different this year. The textiles are mottled to make a form of primitive "camouflage." I say, "and the tools look familiar."
The human moves.
***
"That wasn't fair," my friend complains. "I'd have had that on *lock* if not for that human."
"I told you," I say. "They just need the right tools."
The human in question did not win. But, it did survive long enough to cause quite a few upsets. One of them being the a certain *someone's* favorite. Perhaps, the next one will do better.
Then again, perhaps not. | 2020-09-13T18:06:51 | 2020-09-13T17:30:40 | 473 | 261 |
[WP] When you die, you don't go to the afterlife of you're religion, you go to the afterlife of the religion whose tenets you followed most closely, knowingly or not. | "Ok, I get it. I'm dead."
"Yes sir."
"I mean, the last thing I remember is hearing the squeal of brakes, and turning and seeing this truck grill far too close. So I'm either dead, or in a coma and this is a very vivid hallucination."
"Oh, I'd go with the last one if i were you sir."
"Right, well. Ok then. So, answer me this. Where am I?"
"This is Qwaxxipi."
"Beg pardon?"
"Qwa-xxi-pi."
"I'm resisting the urge to say bless you.."
"Thank you sir, we hear that all the time."
"Ok, I'll clarify. What the heck sort of after life is this?!"
"Oh, well... you know how you don't always get what you expect in life? Well, the after-life is pretty much the same. You end up in whatever sort of afterlife your conduct in life best fits."
"Really? And this is...?"
"Where it gets complicated... you see you don't actually have to have heard of it, to end up in the appropriate afterlife. And, well, this is the afterlife. Normal concepts of space & time don't really apply here. So, welcome to Qwaxxipi, the most popular religion in the 34th century on the planet Treii, in what you'd call the Horsehead Nebula. Here's your complimentary robe, sandals and hammock.. please check out the hot tubs and nude vollyball beach. Have a nice Eternity, or until you get bored and reincarnate, whichever."
"Dude... " | The woman wakes to the sounds of screams, horrible inhuman sounds. And around her, heat and flames.
How had she got here? She remembers a pain in her chest and then...But why is she here? This must be a mistake. She spots a dark figure, he seems to suck all the light from the fires in, leaving just a black space, like a moving shadow with eyes...shining red eyes...
She starts to stammer and plead "this shouldn't be happening! I did everything right! I read my bible every day, I threw my only son from my home for being a sodomite! I helped bomb a doctor guilty of killing unborn children! All for the good of God! Where is my heaven? Where are the other good Christians just like me?!?"
For a second the shadow figure just seems to be looking at her, looking deep into her soul, then his white teeth flash and he speaks in a voice like the buzzing of a thousand flies "oh, don't worry, we have lots of your kind here, you will fit right in"
| 2016-03-07T17:17:57 | 2016-03-07T14:25:07 | 621 | 334 |
[WP] You are a linguist at a European university. One day on public transport you hear two homeless people having a conversation in a language that has been extinct for over 2000 years. | OK, so 50 AD isn't quite 2000 years ago, but it's close enough...
\---
So there I was; an evolutionary linguist sitting on the London Underground on my way to a convention. A few seats away from me, there were a couple of people in rather bedraggled clothing, carrying a couple of rather heavy looking bags each, as well as a sleeping bag. Homeless, at a guess; London has always had far too many rough sleepers. They were talking to each other in their own language, and with nothing better to do I decided to have a listen, and see if I could work out what language they were speaking. It was strange; the language seemed to only have four vowel sounds, compared with anywhere between nine and fifteen in English, and a surprisingly small number of consonants - maybe thirteen compared with nearly thirty in English? Except, no; some of the plosives seemed to be both aspirated and unaspirated, even though none were voiced. So sixteen consonants; still a fairly small number.
I continued to listen. Their speech was strange; either there were a lot of unstressed vowels in this language, or they were just combining consonants that really ought not to be combined. Still, it sounded at least a little bit familiar; I might have heard it used at a previous convention. After a while, my curiosity got the better of me and I walked over.
"Excuse me," I said, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I was just wondering what language you were speaking. It sounds kind of familiar, but I can't place where I've heard it before."
"Oh, we were just speaking in our home dialect," the elder of the two replied. His English had a local accent with a slight tinge of something else - maybe Italy? He was missing a number of teeth, and had a small scar across his throat; possibly from a knife attack? Sleeping rough can be dangerous, which is why I decided quite quickly not to make a fuss about the sword hilt I saw poking out of his backpack. "It's from Tuscany. Maybe you heard it there?"
Before I could reply, the train stopped, announcing my stop. I said a quick goodbye and rushed out onto the platform. Still, something bothered me - their language hadn't even sounded remotely Romantic, which surely one of the Italian dialects would, in spite of their differences from the main Italian language. Then I remembered where I had heard that language before - it was at a previous convention. It hadn't been spoken with the fluency I had heard on that train, but then how could it have been? Nobody had spoken Etruscan fluently since before the Roman Republic became the Roman Empire. Who the hell were those two, and why were they speaking such an ancient language on the London Underground?
There was a freak lightning strike two hours later that cut the power to our conference. Nobody is sure quite what happened, but tonight as I watch the news, I see the face of the man I spoke to on the underground. His body had been found near a substation which had been blown out by the lightning strike. His head had been found in some nearby bushes, where it had presumably rolled away. Sleeping rough really can be dangerous. | I shook my head when I heard the words. I had to be hallucinating, right? There was no way those two vagrants were speaking Cisalpine Gaulish.
I pinched myself but there they were, having a conversation in the extinct language. Although I could not understand everything they said, I could hear bits and pieces about how people were so cheap. I stared at them in shock, completely unsure of how to respond.
No one else seemed to notice how they were speaking a language that had been extinct since 1st Century BC. I was truly shocked and I suddenly heard them say, "Someone watching." in their language before exiting the train. In that moment, I debated whether or not I should follow them before deciding this was a chance I could not miss.
I hastily got off the train and tried to blend into a crowd of exiting passengers. I tried looking for them before I felt a dagger at my back.
"Don't turn around.", a gruff voice said. "Move with us and we talk in a bit."
I whispered, "I am peaceful.", in the bit of Cisalpine Gaulish that I knew and I heard the voices whispering to each other before saying, "Just come with us."
I was ushered around a dark corner of the train station and one of the vagrants said in accented english, "Who are you? Why you follow us? How you speak our language?"
"Um, I'm Dr. Yves Jacques from the University of Hamburg. I followed you because you were speaking the language I was studying, an extinct language nonetheless! I'm a linguist, you see, and the language you speak...it's been extinct since before the end of the Holy Roman Empire! How do you two speak it?"
I heard the two men whispering to each other before one of them said, "That isn't for you to know, mortal. We have lived far longer than your kind only for some...some stranger to blow our cover! I will tell you this though: we are not like you and we shall not be interrogated by the likes of you. As such, we bid you goodbye."
At that, I heard the sweetest song I had ever thought I would ever hear and blacked out.
When I woke up, they were nowhere to be seen. All that was left was a note that said, "The wise do not seek trouble."
I brushed myself off and I ended up walking to my university. Some things were better off not being questioned.
&#x200B;
&#x200B; | 2018-09-06T08:22:47 | 2018-09-06T08:13:43 | 66 | 42 |
[WP] You've died, and reincarnation is run like a used car lot. Currently the salesman is trying to talk you into a cream puff of a life with "low miles".
I posted this a few months ago and it didn't get much love. I hope it does now. I am not a writer so I hope someone can come up with a good story for this. Thank you. | "Can I interest you in the deluxe turtle package?"
The salesman, Jeff, was doing his best but it was rather comical. His hair was slicked but split out in random directions in the back. His tie was stuck in his shirt. He had very clearly spilled a *lot* of coffee on his pants some time ago. I knew exactly what I was dealing with, but I went along for the ride anyway. Might as well have a little fun before you have to get back to living, right?
"What does the turtle package include, exactly?" I asked.
"The *deluxe* turtle package, you mean. And it has everything! Island living, housing on both land and in water, and and all you can eat buffet of leaves for every meal for the rest of your life. Trust me, it's *greeeat,*" Jeff assured.
"But won't people find my kids and eat them before they hatch? I don't know if I can live with my kids being eaten, Jeff," I said.
He frowned. "Well, okay, so maybe that isn't the option for you. Just don't come back to me and tell me I didn't give you my best lifespan option right out of the gate, mister. You would've lived a long and healthy life. Anyway, let's see what else I have out here...Ah! How about a slightly malformed whale?"
"Okay, okay, I can see that. Still a long life, beautiful ocean views, seafood. How deformed are we talking?" I asked, trying not to smile.
"Everything works wonderfully except the vocal chords. You still have a beautiful voice, it's just a bit wonky on the pitch," Jeff said.
"Isn't that how they know their pods? Wouldn't I be trapped in a life of lonely drifting, never to be understood or even known by my own kind?" I said.
"But nobody would eat your kids! Isn't that what's really the most important, here?" Jeff said,
I had to stifle a belly laugh while I glared bullets into Jeff's black, beady eyes. This was a fun game to play, but there wasn't much more I could take.
"How about a tree?" Jeff finally said. "You'll be surrounded by other trees, so you'd never be alone. Plenty of food as long as Earth's sun holds out. Some of your kids would die, sure, but some would likely grow alongside you for many years."
I could see a glimmer of hope in Jeff's eyes, which I had to crush just one more time.
"I'm not sure I like thinking of the possibility of being chopped down and eventually made into toilet paper or a coaster or a cereal box, Jeff. Think of the future!"
Jeff would have pulled his hair out had he been able to get any grip on it. But as he quietly cursed to himself under his breath, I gave him a break. "Hey, how about that grasshopper you have in the back?"
"Oh, *sure*," Jeff said in a mocking tone, clearly not believing I could want a life so volatile. "'Oh, but what if some stupid bird eats me! Or what if some bozo steps on me! Or maybe a billion other things I can't possibly control.'"
"Eh, I'll hop around for a bit, see some cool flowers, eat some grass. You know, a simple but good life," I said.
"But your life would be so short!" Jeff said, clearly confused. "That's one of the highest mileage options I have! Why would you want that?" he asked.
"Well, you see, it mostly comes down to hope," I said.
"Hope?" Jeff asked.
"Correct. My life would be short," I said
"How is that hopeful?" Jeff questioned indignantly. "You'll just end up right back here!"
"Exactly. But I'm hopeful that next time, maybe I'll end up with a better salesman."
________________
r/psalmsandstories for more tales by me, should you be interested. | "Right, low miles." I cleared my throat. "Let's be frank here, so does that mean I die instantly? Like, in childhood? Why would I live again just to die early?"
He seemed to backpedal, waving his hands in front of him. "Oh, well look here, bud. It's simply a cream puff of a life. A little whipped creamed dashed on the delectable savor of... uh, vitality. You'll never get anything quite like it."
"Born to a billionaire just to die instantly?" I mused. Then I cast my gaze back around this place - this completely white place of limbo, just as you might imagine it to be. Except around me were multiple cars with people, salesmen, surrounding. All beckoning to me with wild eyes and smiles that only looked slightly deranged. Who knew, this was probably hell, and I was certainly dead. I remembered dying like yesterday; but I did not want to remember my life, shithole that it was.
Maybe whatever it was had taken mercy on me, because apparently now I'd been given a chance to manually select a new life... but like all supposed blessings, they come with a catch.
"Here! Old Mercedes Benz for sale!" A guy with a floppy hat waved me over incessantly; not seeing any better course of action, I decided to check that out.
I actually didn't know much about cars, at all. And I honestly wasn't tempted so far to choose anything with so few information. I mean, anything could be a trap. The best sign of some being or higher power had been the sign containing a manual at the beginning of the... limbo car lot. And that hadn't been encouraging, just a few mixed messages and 'good luck'. I still didn't exactly know what I was doing here.
"It's a bit rusty, but this car's steadiness is as good as any. Recently repainted and refurbished. Surely you'd enjoy the ride; top notch seats with plush comfort - "
"Wait," I said. "Where am I riding it to, though?"
"Your new life, of course!" He looked affronted. "You'll enjoy plenty of scenery along the way; don't get held back by rivers of burning hell with the inflatable wheel function. With plenty of gas to spare, you won't break down in a field of the chained damned."
"Okay..." I stated. "What about the warranty? If I drive this car, what happens if it does break down?"
"Well, you'll die, obviously. For real."
"I don't want to die."
"You won't die! Not with this top-notch car. Soon you'll be singing its praises, on the way to a happy life down yonder - "
Suddenly the car salesman was hit with a cream puff.
"He lies," hissed the salesman of the cream puff life. "That car's killed hundreds before. Buy mine instead; any low mileage is made up by the pure joy and salvation obtainable from the tortured labor of angels."
I backed away slowly. "Thanks, but no thanks." | 2019-12-11T19:28:56 | 2019-12-11T18:18:11 | 411 | 34 |
[WP]: it's the year 2057. Queen Elizabeth still reigns. People are getting suspicious. | It's been 15 generations since the legend was passed down to me. That our God mother was truly a vampire. I didn't believe it at first after my mother told me the story. My dad verified it too. He said that his father and his father's father confirmed the same thing. She just never aged past a certain point.
I had my doubts as well. Sometimes I would forget that the Queen had stopped aging. Nobody else acted like it was strange. I've seen housekeepers and servants grow old however. I've seen myself grow older as well.
Still though, as time has passed...she keeps me well clothed and fed. I've always given the time of day with her, and accompany her on long walks around the royal garden. They even recently did a new documentary on the wildlife here. I love this place.
When I am left to ponder about the important things in life, my thoughts usually shift over to the food. Food is delicious, and the Queen provides generously. I also have to thank the datalinks which I used to check up on my messages this morning. Willow the Eighth suggested to me that the Queen might actually be a vampire. Wow. Much suspense. Whoops. I should log off as I see the Queen is coming. I'll have to investigate this new hypothesis from Willow later. Minimize all.
"Who's a good boy? Yes you arrre. Yes youuu arree! Here's your treats! Yum yum yummy!"
ARF ARF ARF YIIPPP I NEED THE TREATS IN MY MOUF.
Damn I love being a Corgi. | Soon she would re-enter the pod. Her two hundred years of hibernation was long overdue and would be a welcome relief from her humdrum existence. Even now, servants scurried around the vast chrysalis, deep below the floors of Balmoral castle, prepping and checking its systems, re-filling the vast nectar repositories that would nourish her during her long sleep.
She made her way slowly across the plushly carpeted landing, to look out of the window. It had been so long since they had come to this world, so long since they had subdued the primitive population and began laying their plans for the arrival of the others.
Soon Charles would begin his long reign, and the people of this land would know fear. | 2015-01-20T05:08:27 | 2015-01-20T01:49:48 | 133 | 27 |
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