prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
[WP] You die at the age of 65 and learn that your entire life was a VR game. Your friends are angry at you because they have been waiting to play the game for hours. | They say that when you die, you see your life flash before your eyes. If that’s true, I’m fine with that. I always thought I’d live longer than to sixty-five, but life is a tricky little bugger once you get to know it well. You never know where the road leads or who will travel with you, until you reach the end.
My wife, Claire, smiles at me from the side of the hospital bed. We’ve had many good years together and many children. Jessie, Mark, Louise, Tommy, they’re all here to say their farewells. Louise is holding little Isabelle, my granddaughter.
What a beautiful family. I remember when it was just Claire and me – how we went spent the nights looking at the stars and drinking cans of soda by the lake. To think that we’ve created all of this together – just the two of us – it’s truly a cause for vertigo. They’ve all known for a long time that this day was coming. I’ve been fighting cancer for the last decade, and sooner or later you just have to give up and cut your losses. With the most important people in my life around me, I’m ready to meet death.
“Honey,” Claire says. “I’ve never told you this, but-”
*****
Dizziness grips me, my vision shifts, and I lose balance. I stare wildly. There was no life flashing before my eyes – no light at the end of the tunnel – just a living room and large plasma TV.
“Seriously, Rick, you’ve been playing all night,” Lisa says, tapping her foot impatiently. “I knew it was a terrible idea to get that VR. You don’t even let your friends try it.”
“No!” I gasp. “What did you do! I had lived the perfect life, how could you ruin that moment for me?”
“I unplugged it.”
“But…! Claire was going to tell me a secret.”
“Who the hell is Claire?”
“My wife!”
“I’m your wife,” Lisa says.
“No, you’re not! You’re an imposter!”
I stumble backward. My hands find the heavy glass tray on the coffee table. Before I know it, Lisa is lying in a pool blood with tiny glass fragments all around her head. What have I done?
I reach down. I smile, searching her pockets. I didn’t expect her to have this good loot. I stuff my backpack full and head outside. My friends are all gathered around the barbecue. Before they can react, I have them drenched in lighter fluid, flicking the lighter I found on Lisa at them. They explode in a burst of flames.
LEVEL COMPLETE
*****
I pull off the VR headset. Damn the graphics in that game. I look up at Claire and my family.
“I’ve never told you this, but we've been working really hard to make this happen,” she says, holding my hand. “We know how much you love VR. We all pitched in so you could try that new VR before you go. How was it?”
“Amazing,” I mumble. “Thank you, Dear, for everything.”
*****
[/r/Lilwa_Dexel](https://www.reddit.com/r/Lilwa_Dexel/comments/5foev0/welcome/) | The VR headset was pulled from Richard’s face as he struggled for air. It was as if he breathing for the first time.
“What happened? Where am I?”
“Calm down,” said Lenny. “It’s my turn.”
“What do you mean ‘it’s my turn’? What is this?”
“You were playing LIFE. You finally died. I’ve been waiting for three hours now to play. Move.”
"Oh, shit. Wait, let me have another go. I’m not finished” pleaded Richard.
“No way. Absolutely no way.”
“Why not?”
“Because you completely wasted your turn.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You spent the majority of your teenage and adult years playing other video games.”
“And ..”
“You were playing video games inside of a video game, Rich. It’s like the worst kind of Inception possible.”
“Pretty cool Inception if you ask me.”
“How is that a cool inception? You play LIFE to experience the limits of being, not to sit around completing Half-Life 2 or whatever game it was you played during your existence.”
Tom, who was waiting behind Lenny, piped up. “I’ve actually played through that version of LIFE and Half-Life 2 is pretty sweet. I’m actually going back in to see if they have created Half-Life 3 yet.”
“It still wasn’t out when I was playing, man.” Replied Richard.
“What year did you die?”
“2067.”
“Let me queue jump and see if it’s out in the 2100’s, Lenny.”
“You two are playing LIFE all wrong. You’re supposed to meet the extremes of existence, explore your inner-self, and discover new boundaries that you never thought you would be able to break through.”
“Who are you tell us how to play LIFE?” asked Richard.
“You haven’t even played any of the Half-Life games,” said Tom.
“Just get out of the way.” Lenny sat down in the seat and put on the headset. The small screen next to the console illuminated and began to show his game.
“Great. Another four fucking hours of watching this turnip gallivant around a virtual world telling NPC’s they shouldn’t be eating meat.”
****
I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement. | 2017-02-15T01:14:33 | 2017-02-15T00:27:04 | 169 | 53 |
[WP] You are a superhero, and your mask has just been ripped off by your arch nemesis. Lucky for you, when you aren’t busy saving lives, you live as a hermit away from all of society. Having your identity revealed means next to nothing, and the villain has no idea who you are. | "Destiny Matthews?" the man said to me as I sat near my small fire under the bridge, pretending to huddle against the cold. The name I hadn't heard used in years sent chills down my spine.
"Whattaya want?" I asked, hamming up the part of a bum, but I knew this stranger knew it was an act. The bald head, the regal posture, and the arrogant voice. The Void Mister stood before me - out of costume, of course. This boded ill but I could not understand why this would suddenly bother me after a decade. What could he have?
"Who would have thought?" he asked, gesturing around, "The Black Nova is homeless."
"Figured the ripped off mask would do this, that and facial-recognition corporation you own that's really just a front for your criminal enterprises," I shot back, dropping the act as I leaned back into the support of the bridge. The concrete vibrated slightly with traffic passing above, "Again, what do you want?"
"Mother and father died in a plane crash," he stated clearly, ignoring my question, "Father was a physicist. Was it a little accident with one of his atom-shattering experiments that gave you your powers, I wonder. Too bad, your parents being alive would be very useful to use against you. No other living relatives. Not that you would care about, anyway. Then imagine my surprise when I learned about your husband and child. They are almost completely forgotten with the passage of time but I managed to piece together your little secret."
"Did you?" my senses were heightened and I felt the burning of atomic fire at the core of my being stirring.
"My investigators found two piles of radioactive ash in the abandoned burnt-out house where you lived, all three occupants presumed burnt to death in the resulting inferno," he smiled brightly, "But you and I both know only two people died that day. She was 4 years old. If you couldn't have her, no one could, is that it? Nasty little surprise that, still it explains things."
"Uh huh," I nodded and hoped he would believe there was a dark, evil side of me that was seeking to make up for the horrible wrongs I'd done that night.
"And with a little investigation," he tapped the side of his skull, "I discovered he had filed divorce papers. Was he threatening to tell the world your little secret? Expose you? After ten years I've figured it all out and I am going to ruin you in the media. Imagine the headlines - Earth's Greatest Hero a Fraud! - A Family Slaughtered!. The press can be SO tacky but I think I'll let them indulge themselves on this one little thing. I'll even be sure that exact headline is used in all the media I own."
I stood up and heard the hiss of his force-field crackle like frying-eggs as it activated. He was a genius and his forcefield was tough to penetrate. It was what allowed him to survive in a world of heroes that could otherwise smush him like a bug.
"Wow, you got it, genius." I smiled at him and kicked a stone and he smiled back in triumph, "Almost." My smile grew as I added, "You see, my husband did not know about my powers."
I watched his smile dwindle and could imagine his brain working feverishly with the new information. The look of astonishment told me he had figured it out, "What, then where..."
Out of the darkness, the cab of a semi-truck smashed through him and his shield, unable to compensate for the sheer amount of kinetic energy smashing into him. I quickly did the calculations for how much force a ten-ton object moving at several hundred miles per hour would exert on a human-sized target and whistled softly as he went from a man to a cloud of blood gently floating through the night - a mist in the void. How appropriate. I smiled as the young teenage heroine landed across from me.
"Just in time to save the day, Guardian Angel," I hugged her and she looked me up and down.
"Mom," she said to me through rapidly-forming tears, "He figured it all out. Figured out you killed dad because of me, not you. Wait, where are you going?"
I had risen off the pavement, my clothing burning off in wisps of atomic fire, "There's a mansion to be burned down. I have to destroy the evidence. I could use a hand, you know."
The tears in her eyes came out in torrents as she flew to my side. I heard "I love you, mom," whispered through the tearing night air.
"I know, baby, I know," I said, flying straight and true, forever knowing that even the brightest heroes hid dark secrets. | Through thin thin eggshell walls of the motel room, the voice of Paul Anka crooned about a slow dance as rain pattered against the windows. The floors needed to be steamed and the tile needed an extra mopping. The only nice thing that could be said was no bugs were spotted when the pair had burst through the door. The woman's sinewy legs wrapped around the costumed waist of the man. Her poison tipped claws were tossed to the side before her nails danced against his smooth cheeks. Their mouths closed together in a deep embrace that had required the man's preternatural sense to remain alert as he spun and stumbled drunkenly towards the bed.
The two enemies' mood had changed when Arkantos' mask was pulled away and Toxina gasped that her heroic rival, her nemesis. Her obstacle who had constantly foiled all her plans was a beautiful looking nobody. She had audibly gasped, her cheeks flush with color while her brass claws dipped in lethal poison were inches from his face. She could feel the warmth emanating in his hands as he had prepared to blast her from behind, his hands had been wrapped around her, pulling her tight against him that a flush of emotions had raced into the two enemies. The mood had quite changed as their affections carried them from their fight in the warehouse to the hotel bedroom where they snuggled together.
"I have to admit," Toxina said, her skin flushed after a closer embrace, "I thought I was going to be completely ambivalent when I pulled that mask off your face, Ark." She said. Her fingers were tipped by mere nails as she tapped his chest, "I had rehearsed the entire scene in my head. You were going to be some man-about-town, someone I had read in the papers, and then I'd think: Well, Toxie, you were right all along. This guy was so-and-so, or he's this yadda-yadda." She giggled before saying, "One of the few times you've left me completely speechless."
"Do you think all of the City's rich are costumes, Tox?" Arkantos asked, using the nickname that he often called her by. It usually was during the midst of a battle between Sorcerer and Assassin.
She shrugged, "A great deal of the city's rich are either supervillains or mob-bosses. I figure the other half of the prosperous were just fighting the other half. One of the things that I find *delicious* about you, my sweet, is now you're a mystery to me."
"You're still a mystery to me," Arkantos pointed out, "I take it your actual name isn't Tox. I could find out-" He was shushed by her finger against his lips. She rolled warm, fair digit along his moist lips to collect a touch of saliva which she then licked off, "Let's keep a little mystery here darling, by tomorrow will be fighting each other." Her emerald eyes narrowed dreamily as she looked him over. In the distance the muffled music continued to play against the rain. He smiled back at her, his arms wrapping behind her to draw her close to him. He asked: "Would you have really put those claws in me if you hadn't pulled my mask off?" Arkantos asked.
She yawned and nodded, "Would have poisoned you right as you blasted me. Probably have died together, if there is any romance in that."
He shook his head and said, "I don't think so, but then again, I dislike being a star crossed lover." He bit his lip and thought of how they might meet again. Two masks, or perhaps unmasked having to fight each other. His skin suddenly felt flush as he said, "How long can we keep this up?"
The rain had picked up its rhythm, battering against the glass while back by the wind. Toxina looked over, listening to rapid tapping before saying: "I think we can wait a little while long before we go back to business as usual." She said. | 2020-08-21T02:05:49 | 2020-08-20T23:13:29 | 667 | 126 |
[WP] When an animal dies, we often use the expression "crossing the rainbow bridge." This is not by accident, every animal crosses the Bifröst, having earned their place in Valhalla defending us from a greater evil then we could ever know. Tell their stories. | Carlos crossed the Barkfrost with a swagger in his step. His small legs plodded on that multi-coloured bone bridge, with other honoured brothers and sisters behind and in front of him. Though he felt a sadness at the thought of his master who he left behind, he felt content that he had done his duty and earned his rest.
He approached the mighty gate that led to Valhalla. Guarding it was a glossy coated Doberman, a gold cape draped over his muscular form.
"I am Houndall, defender of the Barkfrost. Who seeks entry?!" he announced, crouched down and ready to pounce if needed.
Carlos straightened up to his full height and bared his teeth.
"I am Carlos! My Master was Wendy! I have defended her from all invaders and kept the home safe!"
Houndall padded over to him and sniffed. He lay down until the two were eye to eye.
"Have you kept away all dreaded intruders? The Milkman? Salesman?" He narrowed his amber eyes. "The Postman?!!"
Carlos barked triumphantly and wagged his tail. Houndall nodded his heavy head once and stepped aside.
"Welcome to Valhalla little dachshund. You have earned your place". | An unnamed cow walks into Valhalla. He sees the 60 billion other animals killed by humans in the last year waiting for him. "Hey, join the party! " "Welcome to Valhalla!" they all say.
Another friendly cow comes forward to talk to him. "Word of advice, watch out for the dragon Alduin. He flies around eating us when it gets foggy." The cow replies, "you're fucking kidding me, they eat us here too?"
| 2018-05-25T05:45:05 | 2018-05-25T02:31:56 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] "Enough! Is there anyone here who DIDN'T come to rob the bank?" | Too many groups had shown up to the bank, far too many. A brawl had broken out between a gang of old English accountants calling themselves 'The Corporate Raiders' and a trio of cudgel armed lunatics in red robes and wide brimmed hats shouting in fake Spanish accents. Several men dressed as Orthodox Jews had come here looking for a diamond exchange heist were in a Mexican Standoff with a small gang of men in suits wearing clown masks. Even four of the tellers had pulled on gas masks and brandished Kalash rifles because they had come to rob the bank *as well*. A machete wielding Russian had cut down two or three of the clown masks *after* they had put twelve rounds into him. I stood dumbfounded, watching the groups of robbers brawling, standing off, or just killing each other in general. But then I remembered I had also shown up to rob the bank brandishing a nine millimeter carbine, duffel bag, and Russian gas mask. I walked through the madness and shouted
"Are any of you nutters *not* 'ere to rob this bank?"
Silence fell over the bank, the cudgel wielding loonies in red had killed one of the Corporate Raiders and the Russian stopped mid-swing as he was about to behead a clown mask. The faux-tellers just stared at me, dumbfounded. The Jews lowered their guns, one of them shrugged. I shouted into the crowd once more
"There are eight groups here, and sixty banks in the city; how in the hell did you all end up in *one*?"
The Russian spoke up.
"Maybe the forty million pounds in that vault, but we should all know why the Jews are here."
One of the Jews shouted and tried pistol whipping the un-killable Russian only to get slugged square in the jaw. I started counting the robbers there, the clown masks, Corporate Raiders, fake-Spaniards, the Jews, the Russian, *and* the Kalash wielding tellers. There were exactly forty, excluding the ten-odd already dead.
"Alright, tell you lot what: we split the dosh, a million to each man if what the Russian says checks out." I told them. They began nodding in agreement, what I said had kept them from killing each other for some time.
"Anyone 'eah got some of them breachin' charges?" a clown mask asked, and seconds later one of the tellers pulled a brick of the stuff out of his pocket. He climbed down from the counter, getting to work rigging the vault door to blow. He ran back and leaped over the counter, he pulled the detonator and shouted
"Everybody cover your 'eahs!"
He hit the detonator and the vault door blew open, money spilled from the vault, stirred by the blast. I looked to the Corporate Raiders and asked
"You lot good at countin' dosh?"
They set about distributing the pounds from the vault, a million to every man just as I said. All forty robbers left relatively peacefully, and quite wealthy as well, me included. | I wipe the sweat off my brow, my heart is racing. I tell the teller once more
"Put the cash in the fucking bag! Keep it going..."
I had already told everyone to put their hands up, which they much obliged. I would too if a dude rushed in on me wearing aviators and a trucker hat with a cut off shotgun. I check the timer set on my watch *1 minute holy shit I need to hurry*. The teller is handing me back the bag
"Not with the fucking ink exploding shit in it you stupid bitch, put it in this backpack"
More wasted time, it should be worth it with unmarked bills. I figure I have about 4 minutes to get the cash and get out of the door. Out of the corner of my eye I see the door swing open. *Another customer*
"Put your hands up bitch and get on the fucking floor!"
He doesn't listen, maybe this will be the lucky one...
"Put your hands up *DICK*!"
He yells with a shitty Spanish accent
"What the fuck man! Fine, I'm trying to hold this place up"
I replied, thinking the dude was your normal civilian hero about to meet his maker.
"What the FUCK! *I'm* trying to hold this place up"
Fuck it. I had put my shotgun down to put some pressure off the guy... My itchy trigger finger hasn't been scratched in awhile...
*BOOM*
He hits the floor. What the hell was he thinking? This was *my* bank. Apparently nobody has heard a gun shot before because now everybody is on the ground.
"Where the hell is that bag!?"
It's sitting on the counter, lucky for her as I still have a few shells left and still itching. I check my watch *3 minutes 40 seconds*. *Nice...*
"Everybody have a good fucking day! Thank your asses I only have 5 rounds left..."
I put the backpack on and run out of the door. I make it my car and get in. At that time I hear the sirens. *It won't be long now*.
"Sounds like it's going to be *someone else's* lucky day today too"
| 2016-09-07T11:07:10 | 2016-09-07T09:07:25 | 268 | 18 |
[WP]They laughed at your power... until they noticed the "no cooldown, no energy cost" description, and realized the implications | They laughed a lot at me, at school. “Wow,” they said, “you can share your thoughts. So, basically, you can speak to people’s minds, but can’t receive anything?”
I didn’t mind too much, my friends helped support me on the worst days. Some people got bad powers in this world, they pointed out. Like the guy who can turn his fingers blue by holding his breath. “And your powers, you don’t even need to hold your breath!” It was nice to be appreciated.
And you know, they were right. I just needed to listen to my friends, and life after that? Well, it was normal. Took life at a normal pace, found a place where they could help people like me, those without good powers. A nice room, 3 meals a day, and nice people to talk to, but they weren’t as good as my friends.
It wasn’t until there was a mean person at my place that I realized maybe I could do a bit more. Well, specifically, when I got punched in the head. He had a white coat, so my friends and I were supposed to listen to him, but he hit me! It hurt a lot!
My friends didn’t like that, either. “Maybe you should share that thought with him.” It didn’t take any effort at all. Suddenly I was in his head, showing him how much that hurt. My worries and fears of concussions, the hospital bills. My friends were pretty happy with me then, shouting “think more! Think faster!”
I realized now the man could hear my friends now, too. Oh, that was so good! Lately they’d been very loud, so much shouting. Not even the extra meals had been enough to keep my friends quiet.
His nose and ears started bleeding, the man who hit me. So many thoughts I had to share, and share them all at the same time, over and over! It was like…. Letting go of something you’d been holding on to for so long that you’d forgotten you’d been holding onto it.
“Why not everyone?” One of my friends asked, his black claws skittering across the ceiling, the gaping smile and empty voids for his eyes looking at me.
“Yes, why not everyone?” Another friend asked, bleeding teeth out of his hands and feet.
They had a point I didn’t consider! Maybe, just maybe, if I shared all my thoughts, and all my friends, with everyone…
Maybe life wouldn’t be so boring in my white room, my 3 meals, and orderly day, with all my thousands of friends.
“It would be easy,” said one more, their marble eyes rolling across the floor, stopping to rest at my feet. “We could tell everyone jokes!”
“What fun that would be,” I said, and the man with the bloodied nose and ears echoed with me, “What fun that would be!”
I laughed, delighted. And then everyone laughed with me. | Everyone got 10 Energy, symbolized by their fingers. Once a person reached the age of 25 and their brain finished developing, everyone received a vision detailing their ability, it’s cost, and it’s cooldown time. Generally the power of an ability would scale with it’s cooldown time and energy cost. An ability that required 1 energy and recharged in 1 minute might be teleportation within a 5ft radius to a spot that you can see, like my cousin Phil. He might only be able to cover 50ft a day and take 11 minutes to do so, but once he started playing football: no one could tackle him.
Meanwhile the big-shot Raines family was known for their 10 energy, once a day weather manipulation ability which somehow graced every firstborn son in their family. Making natural disasters and global warming a thing of the past… when they feel like it.
My family had a pretty average, utilitarian 5 energy ability we called Sunnyside: for 8 hours a day per use, we were filled with a calm and reassuring motivation. An instant cure for anxiety, depression, and a multitude of other common mood disorders. Until I was born. Without arms. Technically I had one finger. Sort of a thumb sticking out of my shoulder, but even that was cartilaginous. This power phenomenon was about 50 years old by the time I was born and such birth defects had thought to have been eliminated in that time, since there were no longer any records of them.
Naturally everyone assumed that if the powers were tied to fingers, then no fingers meant no power. You can imagine everyone’s surprise, then, when I received my vision of Hivemind. I could control one insect smaller than my thumb for one second. No energy cost. No cooldown time. So naturally I found an ant queen as soon as possible. Once I had control of her, I commanded the ants to attach themselves to my shoulder stumps and form chains. Then connect and organize those chains until they formed new arms. And because I could control them with my mind: the finally worked like real arms.
I wonder what else I could do…? | 2022-06-03T14:45:20 | 2022-06-03T10:32:46 | 1,075 | 297 |
[WP] You sit with him in his final moments. His paw in your hand. Such a good boy. As he leaves you witness his life flash before your eyes. To him, you were a glorious king and he, your most noble of knights. Many adventures you had together. You decide to share some with the world and so you write | I remember the sun, its warmth radiating deep into my coat. Laughter from children echoed across the park, and the chattering of squirrels could be heard from the nearby trees. It was peaceful, but for some reason, I was afraid. I was alone.
I tried to move, but I was weak. So, so weak. I looked around, but could only see the blades of grass in the field I was laying in. A large bird circled overhead, waiting for me to succumb to starvation or dehydration, whichever came first.
Suddenly, I hear a yell and see a figure running toward me. I whimper, and am lifted into the air by a pair of small, gentle hands. Her hair brushes by, as she squishes her face against mine. Another pair of hands grab me, and takes me into the shade, free from the hungry eyes of the predator from above. I am safe now, and close my eyes to rest, when I feel a nipple nudge at my snout. I desperately suckle, but once the milk satiated me, I immediately fall asleep.
I awake, a collar around my neck, laying on the stomach of the girl with small hands. I lick her nose, and she opens her eyes. From that moment, I know I no longer have to be afraid. The light flashes and I find myself somewhere else. It's cold, but there she is: her hands are bigger now, and she is holding my paw. I want to tell her...but lord knows she already knows. The doctor comes in and says it's time. I'm ready, but she isn't, so with the last bit of strength I can muster, I whimper. When she brings her face to mine to tell me goodbye, I lick her nose, just as before, and close my eyes for the last time. | I entered the back garden of our kingdom with my master and I stood vigilant as ever, my eyes peered out over our glorious kingdom and as I gazed I spotted an intruder; he was tiny, but he was mighty. The furred plume of his helmet stood on his back, he locked eyes with me and I knew I must defend the kingdom. I flew off the balcony and the intruder ran like the coward he was. I gave chase as fast as I could, as he neared the castle wall he fell. My teeth bit into his flesh, I took no joy in my kill as I felt his tiny breath leave him. I gently took the invaders corpse into my mouth and dropped it at my masters feet. The look on his face confused me, looking almost with pity at the tiny invader. My master spoke “thank you buddy,” he said as he took the corpse with two fingers from the ground, my job as defender is unappreciated. | 2018-11-01T23:59:34 | 2018-11-01T23:50:14 | 32 | 14 |
[WP]: You don't remember what you do for a living. Literally. You black out for 8 hours 5 days a week and a paycheck appears once per month. | "What a day, huh?" I said to Kev, loitering in the parking lot. There were about twenty of us still there, stretching and cracking our joints and expelling the excess ichor. The asphalt was stained with it, half-footprints and tire tracks dragged through tar. Cigarette smoke wafted on the cold air, their lit tips bobbing in the dimming light. It was pointless, hanging around here after our shifts were over, but there was some need for communal bonding keeping us here, co-workers who knew next to nothing about each other. A reassurance that we were not alone in our lives.
"They must be trying to meet some sort of quota," Kev said, sitting on the hood of his car, his eyes bloodshot. "Everyone's fucking worn out. Hey. Look at this," he said, and stood up and turned his back to me and leaned over on the hood. He untucked the back of his shirt and hiked it up with one hand. "The swollen ones are new."
Going up his back in two columns, parallel to his spine, were a series of sockets molded into the skin. The ones closer to his waist were still a bright red, inflamed, but as I pulled his shirt up higher I could see older ones, little pockets of flesh almost healed closed. I touched one. Just big enough to fit in a finger. "Jesus," I said. "What are these? Do I-?" and reached around to touch my own back.
"Nah, nah," said Kev, pulling his shirt back down. "If you had one you'd know, trust me. This stuff's just for us in the implant division, me and Jesse and Kayla."
"That's what you're calling it?" I said.
"Sure." He shrugged. "People talk. Like gathers like."
"I dunno," I said. "Might be against company policy." I was looking at his wrists, his neck, the other bits of exposed skin, looking for marks. "There's a reason we're not allowed to remember."
He expelled air through his nostrils. "Then they should give us a better health plan," he said. "It's not like we're deliberately snooping around. Just watching each others' backs. Seeing what's there to see. Not like 'implant division' is an official term or anything."
"I guess," I said, and tucked my hands into my pockets. They were freezing. Ever since I'd started working here my circulation had gone to shit. I'd wake up Barry all the time with my feet like ice. He'd been urging me to quit, but it's not like we could afford for me to lose this job. I edged away from Kev. "So. Gotta get going. See you tomorrow." We really couldn't afford anything that would get me in trouble.
"Sure," Kev grunted. His eyes were grey. "See you tomorrow."
I climbed inside my car and turned on the heater and looked out the dirty windshield at Kev still perched on the hood, bent over and still as stone. I didn't know what he was doing, pushing it like that, making categories, piecing together the inside of the office in his head. We'd all heard the stories of what happened to people who tried to figure things out, who tried to understand. I thought of Ester, who'd worked here all her life, who'd accumulated the indelible marks on her body, her spirit, until the pattern became inevitable. She'd slit her own wrists, gone all the way up her forearms, nearly turning her arms inside-out. She'd remembered.
I stepped down on the gas pedal and pulled out of the parking lot, beginning the long drive back home. The leaves were a brilliant orange and gold, falling off now to expose the bare black branches. In the rear view mirror, Kev and all the rest of them shrunk away to nothing behind me. My hands had warmed. Barry would be at home waiting for me. | "Hey Phil, I just received another one of those paycheques.", Dave sighed.
Dave Follière had been receiving mysterious paycheques, every week, for the past 6 months. At first he had thought they were sent to his address by mistake, however, when attempting to contact the business listed on the cheques, he was surprised to find it was a shell-corporation.
"That's insane man! What the hell... Are you sure you don't remember anything from today either?", Phil exclaimed.
Today was a Wednesday. The cheques always came in on Wednesdays. Dave had installed a security camera after a two months of receiving the cheques, but they were broken by some mystery guy, wearing a black suit, and a black derby hat, covering his face from the camera.
Aside from the mystery paycheques, Dave felt he had a much bigger problem. Every weekday, Dave would wake up, do his morning routine and then... Well, he didn't quite know what he would do then. He'd blackout whenever he finished breakfast, and regain consciousness around 5.30, casually sitting on his sofa.
"I don't remember a single thing... Hey, didn't you say you have the day off tomorrow?"
"I sure did, why?"
" I have an idea. Come over tomorrow morning before 8am. That way we can find out what happens to me every morning."
Dave had tried finding out what was wrong with him before, but every time he went to the hospital to get himself checked out, he'd blackout and wake up in his bed.
" Sounds like a plan, I'll be there around 7.30am. Don't forget to set your alarm!" Phil joked.
" Haha, I sure will. See ya, mate!"
"Cheers!"
Dave hung up the phone. Tomorrow he will finally know whatever it is he does when he blacks out.
---------------------------------
Dave woke up from his alarm. Normally he'd hate the darn this, but today was different. In less than an hour Phil would be outside, and they would finally find out what Dave was doing during working hours.
He rushed downstairs to make himself a cup of coffee. He would need the extra energy, he figured. Once he finished his coffee and had read "The Times", it was almost 7.30. Dave slowly stood up, stretchin himself as he reached his full height. He was just placing the dirty dished in the sink, when the doorbell rang.
Dave ran to the door to go and greet Phil. He opened the door smiling. "Hey man wha...". Dave fell silent. In front of him stood not his friend Phil, but a completely unknown men.
The man, probably late forties, was wearing a black suit and a black hat. He his was messy with more than a few shades of grey in it. Dave could only look at the man in horror, as he recognised the man who'd wrecked his camera's and brought him the paycheques. Despite the clear look of horror on Dave's face, the man was smiling a gentle smile at Dave.
The man spoke. "Hello Dave, I'm agent K, your colleague. | 2016-10-11T05:26:32 | 2016-10-11T04:53:17 | 371 | 57 |
[WP] you are immortal, had to break up with your girlfriend cuz you couldn’t stand the grief of her inevitable death. She seems surprisingly understanding and you believe you’ll never see her again. Centuries later you are shopping and come across her and she looks just as surprised to see you.
Wow this uh- this blew up- | Immortality can be a blessing and a curse. I enjoy watching as humans make new advancements and slowly discover every secret the world has to offer. But an immortal life is a lonely one. At first you don't think about the fact that any friend you make will eventually die and leave you behind.
I was only ever in one relationship. I loved Katheryne with all my heart but as I watched my friends die around me, I could not imagine the pain her death would cause me. I left her under the pretence of moving away in the name of scientific research. She was sad but very understanding.
I often wondered if she had a happy life Eventually the pain dulled but she never quite left my mind. Every year, on the anniversary of the day I left, I would light a candle in her memory.
It's been a few hundred years. And yet here I was, in the local store, looking for a candle to light the next day. I greeted the cashier when I entered. I've been living here for a few years and me and Arthur struck up a casual friendship.
"Ah, Charles, we've just had renovations done, so if you're looking for candles, they're now in the 5th isle instead."
I was about to thank him, when a voice interrupted me.
"Charles?"
I turn around just to come face to face with Katheryne who was holding a candle in her hand. She looks as surprised as I feel. There's a lump in my throat that won't let me say a word. We stare at each other for a while. I'm still not sure who moved first, but we end up embracing each other, holding on for dear life.
I can feel my shirt damped and so I gently move away to take her face into my hands and brush the tears away.
"Hello, Katheryne."
I knew what I had to do. I invited Katheryne for dinner and while waiting for our orders I excused myself, saying I had to go to the bathroom. As soon as I was out of sight I ran faster than I ever did in my life. Ten minutes later, I was back. If Katheryne was surprised to see me out of breath she didn't have time to mention it.
I dropped on one knee. | "*Holy french fried fuck, Sharon*?" He practically screeched, the women in question turning to stare shocked at the shrieking man.
There was a pregnant pause as each stared at the other.
"Dave?" She whispered, a hand coming out as if to prove he was here "You're..?"
"Yep and you're?" He grinned as she laughed out her own reply. In no time at all they'd managed to stagger their way to some cafe and over a drink or twelve, catch up. "So you're telling me, you were a *Mesoamerican* Life Deity??? You couldn't keep a cactus alive" Dave giggled, arms flailing, eyes lit up with that familiar spark. "Uh huh" Sharon drawled "and you were cursed to forever walk the earth because and I quote, 'stole Death's favourite cloak', did you never try to give it back???" She asked incredulously, even as Dave awkwardly ran a hand through his hair.
"It was awkward alright? I thought about it but I never knew how to find the fucker and eventually I got used to it, I meant it worked out didn't it? I met you!" He finished, sipping at whatever beer he was on now, grinning at her the entire time. Sharon internally giggled at his antics and let out a well practiced long suffering sigh "I guess i'm stuck with you" she teased to an affirmative nod. | 2022-12-08T09:37:00 | 2022-12-08T08:51:31 | 198 | 29 |
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to. | sry for bad writing and short text, am on mobile
edit: spelling
As I heard a loud alarm I covered my ears with my hands. "Just one more minute" I said, half awake, half asleep.
As I slowly started to gain consciousness I looked around. I was in a gigantic room, filled with beds, all identical. This wasn't even remotely like the cozy room I had fallen asleep in after making love with the beautiful woman I had met at the bar the previous night.
It had been a long night, but at around 3 AM I had finally fallen asleep, with the woman in my arms. Some time after she had gone up to get a glass of water or whatever. I had then fallen asleep, a dreamless sleep, and now I found myself here, in this room filled with beds and nothing more.
In the room there appeared to be hundreds of people, all looking up at a big monitor in the room where the a man was seen talking into the camera.
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen"
The voice had barely said the sentence before the crowd started screaming, asking why they were here.
All of a sudden a man in the crowd collapsed and the people around him looked shocked for a few seconds before starting to scream and run hysterically. I just sat there, watching the spectacle, while waiting for the man on the monitor to start talking once more.
"Well ladies and gentlemen, I would advise to keep quiet in the future. You see, we have implanted a small little chip in your heart. As fast as we think you're disobeying you are going to be killed."
People started whispering and a shiver echoed through the crowd, as if though they had already forgotten the bloody corpse amongst them.
"You have been placed here today to play 5 death games, all of which will test you in different ways. If you would, against all expectations, survive all 5, you will be given a enormous amount of money- 2.3 billion dollars, given generously to us by the viewers"
As I heard him utter the last word I burst out laughing like a maniac. People started looking at me and I even seemed to have gained the attention of the man of the monitor, as he was looking stressed at the sight of me laughing.
Oh these rich people who had come for entertainment and seeing people die would soon see their world upside down.
Not only had I lived for tens of millennia- I was also one of the original gods of humankind. When humanity still was young they had feared me as the god that made night fall and meat spoil, the god that made sickness and the god that killed their young. When they grew older they started fearing less and less, but I was always there, lurking in the shadows behind the devil's of each religion.
As the monitor finally turned of I sat there laughing. This would be the funniest thing to happen in centuries | As I lay on my cot 5 beds up, I surveyed my surroundings.
To my left, Jang Deok-Su fondled his pocket knife, safely guarded by his makeshift miscreant thugs. Way over to my right, Seong Gi-Hun, playing the hero with his misfit crew, was polishing off his fortress. Insofar as you can "polish off" a castle made of cots.
And in between was the frightened masses. It didn't take a genius to know what what would befall them in the night.
Hmm interesting indeed. I really hate it when others around me are in pain. It's the worst itch and I always feel compelled to act. I did not know if the time was right however.
And so I did a bit of scrying. My body went limp and my eyes turned back as my mind flew up a thousand feet. Yes... hundreds of warm bodies washing up on Oryo Don. Soon the police would find them. It was time.
As I felt myself sink back to my immediate surroundings, I saw Gi-Hun approaching my bed.
"Excuse me, ma'am, but lights will be out soon and it will be dangerous. An elderly woman like yourself shouldn't be alone in the dark. Please join us in safety."
I tried so very hard not to laugh hysterically, but a smile escaped to my lips.
"Why thank you, young man, for the offer. But I will be safe right here." As he gave a most incredulous look, I quickly added with a wink, "Don't worry I brought protection." Little did he know just what that protection was....
"Well, if you change your mind..." And with that he took a bow and returned to his cushioned castle.
I took the time to start my evening preparations. To my fellow contestants I probably looked like a mad old woman murmering to herself as she stared at the featureless ceiling.
"Players, it is now lights out."
Darkness fell and night erupted with a cacophony. | 2021-10-31T01:05:36 | 2021-10-30T22:15:47 | 37 | 20 |
[WP] A senile, old superhero still goes out to fight crime. None of the younger heros respect him anymore but all the villains have a soft spot for him.
Maybe he's found himself in the middle of a hero/villain war, or he's just trying to stop a bank robbery.
Edit: wow this uhh... kinda blew up didn't it?
Oh man I'm so sad I've got work today and can't just spend the whole day reading each and every story, they've *made* my breaks though! | To the Justice Unit, he was a mere has been. To us, however, he was a milestone in all of our lives. My father, Mega-Kill Sr., was his arch nemesis for decades. I remember when I was 17 or 16, my pops gave me his suit. He said to me; "Georgie, if you want to be a real villain, you gotta know how to fight a super." So with me wearing the mega-elector suit (which was about 3 sizes to big) and a death blaster, I made my way to mainstreet during the lunch or dinner hour, but i'm not sure what time it was, it would be around 30 years ago. So I raise the death blaster, I aimed it at something like a mail box or a fire hydrant, or something, and before I could even press the trigger, there he was. Maximum Justice; Head founder of the Justice Unit. He appeared right next to me and crushed the gun's barell between 2 of his fingers. I went into punch him, crashed my fist straight on his nose. Broke my hand for 4 months. He didn't hit me back, god knows I deserved it though. I was just a punk trying to be like his punk father. Looking back, I think Maximum Justice knew that. It wasn't just me though, all the members of the Tyranny Union had parent super villians, whom most of us took our names from. 400 villains in the tyranny Union, all of whom got their start with Maximum Justice.
Somewhere over the years things began to change for Maximum. He got slower, weaker, older. Any Tyranny Union member could of killed him years ago, but none of us could. We had to much respect for the man who was a giant in this industry. The heroes, those jack ass', never understood that. That the man they would be little was the foundation of what they do. Oh it made me sick. During the usual street brawls, they would force Maximum Justice to stay in the car, like a kid or a dog. Treating him as an errand boy, giving him demeaning jobs to make him feel useful. Who makes Maximum Justice take out his dry cleaning and get his coffee?
The man is dead now. Died of a cardiac arrest in Justice Unit Headquarters. A warrior like him didn't deserve such a mediocre death. He should of died saving the planet, like he always invisioned. Sone people think that's why he stayed with the Justice Unit, so he could have the death he deserved, like his fallen comrades had. One died in an a alin attack, one died redirecting a nuke into space, the other died stopping the sun exploding. But Maximum Justice, the icon, the legend, dies because of a cardiac arrest? It's not fair.
I arrived to his funeral out of costume, along with other Tyranny Union members. What we found was nothing less of disgusting. The Justice Unit had passed on the responsibility of planning his funeral, unlike what they had done for other members who received statues and magnificent pieces of art that honored them. All Maximum got was a small church, with only the Tyranny Union and an old Priest to pay final respect. The public itself completely disassociate itself with the great hero. The Hercules of the modern Era, gone and forgotten.
No. This will not stand. The Tyranny Union will make this city and the Justice Union mourn.
| "I don't have time for this Hydro, so let that girl go and I may just spare you the hurt." His voice boomed. Mr. Streak, greatest hero of the 1980s, my grandfather's one time nemesis and comrade in arms against the Zorblaxian invasion. Despite his age, the old dreg still looks dapper as he was in his prime, it's a pity this old clock is falling apart beneath that fresh varnish.
"You have to actually stop me first, Streak." I taunted, smirking at him.
True to his name, Streak flew at me like a blur of mass, his signature blue lightning trailing behind. His left uppercut lands square on my jaw. I let go of the mannequin and back-flipped into recovery as Pappi had taught me, not that the old slug could hurt me at his current level but otherwise the illusion would be broken. Screaming for a full second to get his attention, I then launch a controlled water jet giving him just enough time to evade. Hardest part of the job, trying to kill an old man without actually killing him. A bolt of blue lightning with enough power to light the city comes crashing down on me, with barely enough time to condense the surrounding vapour into a bubble shield. I fought back the impulse to retaliate with lethal force and do a countdown to when he would drain himself. At the stroke of zero, I dropped to a half kneel as part of the act, but mostly because I can't stop my legs from trembling. Gosh, babysitting this old fogey is a high-stress job.
"Your powers have grown again, Streak. But I'm not done with you yet." I stood up in stance, still somewhat shaky, but I can't leave too early lest Streak throws himself between Morganna and the Force-X. He nearly got himself killed last time. Streak responds in kind and throws the first punch.
What was the expression again? Float like a butterfly, Stink like a soiled diaper? Yes, my dear Streak has soiled his diaper. I pray for the all clear to come before his spouts of lucidity comes back, hate to see the old squirt embarrassed in public.
God must be listening, because right as his next strike was about to land, the telepathic channel buzzed to life with Psych's voice calling for retreat. On hindsight, I think she's the one listening, not god. Psych, you still there? How about that date?
"I'll get you next time, Streak, until then..." I turn tail, running into the portal.
EDITED 15/04/17
End of part 1 | 2017-04-13T06:12:53 | 2017-04-13T05:12:50 | 40 | 25 |
[WP] Through selective breeding we managed to turn wolves into pugs. For the last 1000 years a secret cult has also been selective breeding, but not with wolves but lizards. Crocodiles, monitors, sneks. The largest and most dangerous, into finally they created their perfect monster... A Dragon.
Just wanted to thank everyone for the awesome stories. Also, yes the spelling of Snek was deliberate. I’ve been trying to post a writing prompt here every night before bed for the last couple days and it is really encouraging when I see so many people willing to spend their time writing awesome stories from my prompt. Keep it up fellow writers and good night from Australia.
Edit: Front page, awesome and thanks. Also good morning from Australia. Glad you all got to write some awesome stories from my prompt. | I thank you for your interest Mr. Darson. Yes we have quite a few breeds of Dracus Domesticus. This way please.
Now, if you wish to choose from the catalogue you'll notice that each of our fine creatures has a vet certificate of health and their shots are all up to date. Now if you'd let me know your price range...
You would rather see them in person? Well yes that could be arranged. However I must warn you that due to little darling's nature there are a few wavers you'll have to sign. Yes, hair and eyebrows singes are not unheard off however should that happen wigs and hair transplant brochures are in the lobby for you to browse. I myself adore the Lovely (Do or Dye Saloon). Very reasonable prices and most people couldn't even tell it's a wig.
Thank you for signing, let me take you to the stables. Now in this location we manage medium to large sized breeds. You have your Slimehides, very popular those. Your giant tails though we only have three of those at the moment. Bloodyhorns a plenty, Breed like rabbits they do. five Goddamned backspikes but they're in a seperate location. Very territorial I'm afraid and haven't learned to play nice with others yet. Ah here we are. This way and please put on the fire proof mitts if you plan to touch any of them.
What's that? Why are they all small? What are you talking about. Look at little Jakekr here, he's had a growth spurt this summer and is now bigger then my palm. Very impressive for his breed wouldn't you agree?
Look I can see you are not ready to own a pet. Please come back when you are, these babies are all rescues. People see a picture of a dragon in a tea cup and they rush to get their own. a few weeks later they realized that this is a living creature. It needs a balanced diet, a lot of care and each breed comes with it's own list of possible problems due to generations of inbreeding by some cruel and greedy basement dwellers. We did this to them and yet all they ever wanted from us is love, companionship and a friend.
What do you mean why is the fire coming out that way! How else are they supposed to fart? | The bigger the lizard is, the warmer it gets. Did you think they would *stay* cold-blooded? The first warm-blooded lizard was hatched in 1344. It was just a simple test iguana, but it became well known and loved among our group. The scientist who incubated it took it home after a week and loved it like it was a normal dog. It survived for 17 years before being killed by a farmer.
That iguana's name was Albert Einstein- his master named him after a strange frizzy-haired man he met in a dream. He was the catalyst that made us realize that dragons didn't need to be terrifying beasts to be worthwhile.
I'm not going to tell you the entire history of our dragon program. Suffice it to say that at this very moment, I have a day-old, winged, scaly cat curled up here with me. The mother is fast asleep in the living room and filling most of it. She's smart enough to know that I could never harm a scale on the baby's head.
He's so warm. I can feel the fire thrumming through me when he purrs. He's already larger than any housecat I've ever seen, and based on the size of his mother I predict he's going to grow rapidly.
Eventually we'll reveal our project. Right now, I'm not feeling productive. I just want the kitten to love me.
(Please don't hate me for the direction I took with this. I just love little heartwarming stories.) | 2018-10-20T08:08:21 | 2018-10-20T07:21:40 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] Write an essay about a current event as though you're a child 50 years from now who knows the gist and a few specific details, but is just bullshitting most of it. | Donald Trump Americas Last President
By Carl
Donald Trump was a famous millionaire from New York. Donald Trump got famous because of his reality tv show Survivor where contestants sang there favorite songs and America voted for them he also sold houses!
One day, Donald Trump decided he would run for president, he wanted to make America great again. Presidents were kind of like the grand chancellor, except the whole country got to decide who it was instead of the high council. I don't think that's a good way to pick a leader, because most people aren't as smart as the high council.
Donald Trump fought against Hillary Clinton to be president. Hillary Clinton lost because Donald Trump had good words, the best words and people didn't like Hillary Clinton because she always deleted their e-mails.
Donald Trump made a big wall between our country, The Texan Union and what used to be part of Mexico. Mexico was supposed to pay for the wall, but they wouldn't! The Texan Union ended up paying for the wall instead and we were all really mad.
The Texan Union was actually just called Texas back then I think. Texas wanted to leave America for a really long time because Texas is really big and great and didn't want to pay money to America anymore. The fight was called Trexit, it was named after a fight in Britain called Brexit where Britain left Europe and became an island.
People from Texas tried to attack Donald Trump and he called them terrists. Donald Trump got really mad and said he had bombs, big bombs, the best bombs and he wouldn't rule out the use of nucular weapons. Texas started getting very afraid of america and stopped letting americans in and made a really big army. Donald Trump dropped a bomb on Nagasaki, the biggest city in Texas.
Other places in America were really mad and left America to! Like Califoregon and Canada! Their were a whole bunch of battles, but everyone was on our side and Donald Trump was defeated!
The End
| Name: Nikoli Date: 8/28/2066
My report on the grate russha in the early twenty furst centrury. (I am not good speler)
My name is nikoli and I am 10 yeres old. I was born long after the gloryos campaigns of russia in the early 2000s. Great leeder puttin was presidant of russha. He did many grate fings, like arrest the threats to society. He saved ukrane form being led a stray by evil NATO. Ukrane wanted to join NATO (Nasty Angry Terribul Orginizashun.) but Putin ride on bear shirtless to free Russian minoretry in crimia. Then other ukranes get jealous, of free russanz. They have big sivil war, but Putin help ukranes who want to be like free gloryious russians. Potin dos all this while fighting turkeys and moslims! Putin best leader ever! Pleas give A now.
| 2016-08-28T15:56:26 | 2016-08-28T13:16:35 | 83 | 35 |
[WP] Following a chosen deity has real world benefits, much like perks in a videogame. The more obscure gods offer more interesting gifts to those that find them. | "So I just started worshiping Matton, the ancient greek demigod of meals, and check this out. Cheesecake me." Kevin snapped his fingers and a slice of blueberry cheesecake appeared in his palm. He gobbled it down. "That's my fifth slice tonight."
"No cooldown huh? Guess I should convert. Zeus offers a lightning strike wherever you want, but only one per month." Fred tossed Kevin his phone. "Hook me up?"
"What would you even use that for?" Kevin asked, punching Matton's name into the contacts list. He hit a dropdown menu and scrolled down. Friends, family, acquaintance, current god. There it is.
"You'd be surprised. There was this bonfire last month and they wanted a little more pizzazz. So they got a whole bunch of us Zeus followers together and had us all go at once. The wood fucking vaporized. It was totally sick. Cheesecake me." A slice of blueberry cheesecake appeared in Fred's hand. He took a bite and nodded.
"Yo, Pauline! You gotta get in on this Matton deal." Fred sprayed crumbs from his mouth as he talked. "It's fucking awesome!"
"No, I'm alright." Pauline muttered, looking up from her phone.
"You sure? You look kind of down all the time. It'll be good for you. Would a slice of mythical cheesecake change your mind?" Kevin offered. Pauline shook her head.
"I'll pass. Thank you." Pauline tucked her phone securely in her pocket and forced a small smile.
"Fine. Fine. Wait, what's that?" Fred shouted, grabbing Pauline's phone as she turned around. He scrolled through her contacts. "Belun? Never heard of that god before."
"Give it back!" Pauline elbowed Fred in the stomach and grabbed her phone, clutching it in a white-knuckled grip.
"Whoah, there, take it easy girl. I was just looking, wasn't going to change anything." Fred got back up and took a step back. "So, tell us about Belun."
"It's a Slavic name." Pauline said. "Remember when I moved here? My parents had just divorced. I never went outside, except for school. I ate by myself in the lunchroom."
"You wore that freaky emo makeup. I'm glad you grew out of that phase." Kevin looked through the files on his phone. "Yeah I still have that pic of you kicking Mr. Evanson."
"It wasn't a phase. I was actually depressed. So much that I don't know what I would've done without the internet. I hated my dad. I hated my mom. I had no friends. So I spent all day on a forum with kids like me. And we found Belun." Pauline's voice quivered as she recounted her past.
"So what did a bunch of emo kids find? Was he some sort of murder god? Parent controller? Human sacrificer?" Kevin shrank back.
Pauline shook her head and replied with the same dead tone she always used. "Belun is a god of happiness."
______________________________________________________
[more](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/) | History buffs are already calling it the religious revolution. It's a fancy schmancy name for a bunch of uberpowerful beings fell from the sky and crept up from the caverns and rose from the sea back in 2033. Gods from cultures big and small emerged and rose to prominence around the world, beckoning for followers. Enticing humans left and right with the promise of real power.
A metric fuck ton flocked to "the one and only lord savior Jesus motherfuckin' Christ." I met him once. Nice enough fella. Wouldn't follow him though. Not all it's cracked up to be. When I was younger I followed a girl I loved into the Ancient Norse pantheon. She was an astral priestess of Sol. I became a master of games and glory under the god Ullr. It was fun for a time. Lots partying, as is customary for young people.
It came to an end when both of my folks passed in '40. They were good people. As fun a guy as Ullr was, he didn't tolerate sadness. I was excommunicated from his blessing and became unpledged for quite a while. During that time, I became good friends with a disciple of Janus and a runner of Mercury. The three of us travelled around the world, sight seeing and havin' a good time. They both tried to pull me into the ancient Roman pantheon, and trust me; I wanted nothing more than to be blessed again, but something felt just a bit off with the Romans. I was comfortable enough around them, but it didn't feel like home. They were too... uptight, for my taste.
One summer, I almost joined the ancient Egyptian pantheon because my sister had become the sorceress supreme under the goddess queen, Isis. She studied her whole life for that position. I'm glad she got it, but all the ancient Egyptian gods have animals where their heads should be. I don't think I'd be able to focus with any of them in the room, y'know?
A lifetime of hiking with Mayan gods, meditating with Hindu gods, and drinking with Celtic gods has led me to where I am today. In service to a god of many things. One of history's jack of all trades. The god who rides the sun across the sky. The god of music and archery and medicine and a hundred and one other things; the Ancient Greek god, Apollo. | 2017-08-28T22:44:17 | 2017-08-28T19:44:37 | 39 | 19 |
[WP] You have just been abducted by a UFO. While you are figuring out what just happened to to you, a frantic alien bursts into the room. "You have no idea how many rules I'm breaking, but my Human Studies final is tomorrow and I need help." | One moment he'd been stargazing and the very next he was among them. He hadn't noticed it happen initially. William had been seated next to his brother Waylon on the hillside as they usually were on Tuesday nights, smoking and snacking as they talked about the cosmos. The two of them had always had a fascination with the stars, even before they had been told that their real father had died in deep space. The two of them didn't necessarily want to become astronauts or astrologists in any kind of way, but they shared a quiet admiration once a week for the stars and the ghosts of stars that littered the violet dark tapestry woven high over their heads and far out of their reach.
Until now.
William turned from the starry window out to space and surveyed his surroundings. Everything from the walls to the fixtures of the room was dyed a creamy white hue that was calming to look at and yet aesthetically beautiful and neat. He looked down at himself and then around the room for his brother.
"Waylon?" He called out, a lost tone on his lips. Had he not been stoned, he might have been panicking. But it was good stuff they'd bought, and his nerves failed to get the better of him. Before he could form another thought, a small being crashed through the door. Its features were alien in every measure of the meaning, but William was still able to discern that the creature was in peril and distress. And then it spoke... in English.
"You have no idea how many rules I'm breaking, but my Human Studies final is tomorrow and I need help!"
He looked down at the blunt in his hand with eyes wide before fixing his gaze back on his new acquaintance.
*Dammit, Waylon,* he thought. *This thing is laced with something else.*
The little being looked surprisingly similar to pop-culture aliens, which tipped William off that this certainly wasn't real. He firmly believed that aliens would be so fantastically different, so obscured from our wildest imaginations that we likely wouldn't know them when we first saw them as sentient beings. However this wasn't William's first time being taken on a ride he didn't sign up for, and he had the wisdom to go along with it rather than fight against it.
"Um... Alright, well... what do you want to know?" He asked before lifting the blunt back to his mouth only to find that its flame had been extinguished.
"Well," the little alien began, lifting its long index finger into the air and swiping it as though he were using a touchscreen interface. An opaque green line trailed from the end of his finger, and he pulled it open as though it were a backpack and removed from it a clipboard with a stack of papers clipped to it, as well as what appeared to be a writing utensil.
"Can you tell me what you're holding there? What is its purpose?"
William looked down at the half-finished blunt in his hand and thought carefully before responding.
"We have herbs on Earth that when burned and inhaled calm us, relax us, and allow us to forget the things that trouble us in the backs of our minds. For many of us, it allows us to break down creative barriers and think in a more unrestricted way."
"Wow," the little alien remarked as he jotted down a few notes. "Can... Can I try it?" He asked.
William couldn't help but smile, "This is, uhhh... a little strong for someone who's never tried it before. If I had something more measured, I'd be more than happy to share."
"Oh! So there are different levels of inebriation one can achieve from the herbs, and furthermore, you're implying that your species can develop some sort of tolerance to it."
William wiped his hair out of his eyes and nodded, "You're pretty quick. Yeah, our bodies are really adaptable."
"Incredible," he responded. "Alright, next question. What is it that drives a human forward? What do you all want? It would seem to us that your existences are mostly painful and difficult, yet only a handful of you choose to start your next life before your natural expiration. Why is this?"
William made a face and couldn't help but laugh at the little alien. "Wow. That's one way to put it, I guess. Well... for humans, it's not so much about running from strife but dealing with it. There's a satisfaction in overcoming hardship as difficult as that might be to believe. It's about to journey of life and the wisdom you gather from your many failures. I guess when it comes to what we want, it varies a lot. But I think all of us want love and security above anything else."
The alien's eyes lit up at the response. "Love!" It cried out.
"Why didn't I even think to ask?!" He slapped its own forehead. "So love is a word in your lexicon that we cannot understand. Could you elaborate?"
William pondered on this for a moment. To describe love to a creature that didn't understand it would be like describing purple to someone who was born blind.
"Love..." William started with an ounce of hesitation. "Words can't do it any justice if I'm being honest."
"With your limited human lexicon, I would imagine it would be difficult."
"Oh, zip it," William said with a smile. "It's an ineffable feeling, love. It's like wandering through a hundred miles long desert and finally getting a drink of water, but for your heart. Love transcends all languages and borders. It's an affection for someone that runs so deep that you feel as though you can't do without the source of your love."
"I still don't get it," the alien said flatly. "Do you love the other human you were spending your night with?"
"I do," William responded without hesitation. "He's my brother. I would do anything for him, and he would for me."
"Your brother... Oh!" The alien said with excitement, "I nearly forget that your people reproduce sexually! So you form lifelong bonds with your siblings!"
"That's right," William nodded as he turned and looked out the window at the constellations of stars that shined in distant space. "We were born into the world with one another. We overcame the same hardships together, looked out for each other, and felt one another's pain when either of us was sad or anguished. Our mother named us William and Waylon because wherever there's a Will, there's a Way."
The little alien lowered his clipboard and stared at William with soulful eyes.
"The two of us face our hardships together. We can weather any storm, scale any mountain, and cross the seven seas so long as we work together. And although we lost our father when we were young, we still see him in every star, and in every passing comet that comes across our telescope."
"That is..." The alien began as he stared at William. "That's the most... undecipherable concept I've ever heard."
"Aw come on!" William yelled at the little being. "I got all dramatic for you and everything, you seriously don't get it?"
"No," it responded, swiping its finger in the air the same as it had before, and stuffing its belongings back into the void from whence it was pulled. "But I really do appreciate your time."
The being walked towards the exit and lifted its hand towards the red button on the wall. It pressed the button firmly and red lighting shined upon the room suddenly. William looked around urgently and then down to the alien. It looked over its shoulder and nodded.
"They were going to perform a vivisection on you, human."
William gulped. That sounded a little too close to a dissection.
"But they can choose another human, I'm sure. Because where there's a William, there's a Waylon... right? Have a safe trip home, William."
He smiled at the little being as it left the room. For even if the concept of love seemed alien to the little creature, its final act gave William hope that it would someday be the first of its species to understand.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
I get a 15 minute break at work aside from my usual lunch break. I pick a prompt, spend a couple of minutes storyboarding, and then do as much as I can within the confines of my break.
If you enjoyed this, consider following me at r/A15MinuteMythos | The blue dot of Earth receded into the distance, leaving home farther in Deliliah’s rearview mirror than ever before. When she’d told her friends she needed to get away she’d meant Colorado or maybe New Mexico, not quite this. The room she occupied had all the accoutrement of an upscale apartment but with the miles the flying saucer (her mind rebelled at the words) was putting between them and her planet she had no illusions it was anything but a jail cell. That was the best she hoped for.
From behind Deliliah a small hiss sounded, the wall dematerializing in a circle to admit a creature whose features were distinctly alien with greying, clammy looking skin, bulbous eyes, and proportions that seemed oddly stretched for a frame barely four feet tall. It was the first living thing she’d seen since waking up in this room nearly an hour ago.
“You have no idea how many rules I’m breaking,” it said, breathing loudly. Had it run here? Did aliens get winded? It continued, almost as an aside, “We have procedures for this, processes, but it’s desperate times. Surely so. Yes, desperate.”
Deliliah stared at the thing in terror, falling onto a nearby couch as her legs turned to jelly. This alien was speaking English, accented in a tone that sounded like nothing so much as the primly generic accents Americans put on in movies when they tried to play Brits.
“Damn, I’ve scared her.” Clearly trying its best impression of a smile the alien twisted its mouth up at the corners, allowing it to hang open slightly. There wasn’t a single tooth in there. With the freak-show expression still plastered unmoving across its face it hopped up beside her, their knees nearly touching, and spoke again. “Look human, I realize this is scary but it’s all going to be ok. It really is. You’ve been chosen for something good and beautiful, something that could help your whole race once we get back to the fleet and you should be proud of that! Until then, I’ve got some questions, some very important questions.”
It paused, finally allowing the smile to fade. “You see my human studies final is tomorrow and frankly my dear, I’m screwed.”
She couldn’t have helped it if she’d tried, Deliliah laughed. Great heaving, sobbing cries of laughter that rose up and filled the room and made the creature beside her jump away in terror. It had a test. A goddamn ***test!***
“Please tell me you didn’t abduct me just for that.” Deliliah finally said when she had calmed down.
“Oh no, not at all! The abduction was the captain’s doing, I’m just an intern trying to get by. Name’s Zixzax by the way. What’s yours?”
“Deliliah.”
“That’s a pretty name…” silence hung awkwardly in the air for several breaths. “Ok, so I’m going to ask you some questions and I really, really do need some answers, alright?” Delilah nodded. She had nothing else to do, and perhaps this way she could learn something.
“Great thanks! So, why isn’t Earth united?”
This was going to be harder than she’d thought.
The next hours were spent under a barrage of questions, interspersed with the occasional plea to be sent back to Earth, complete with every synonym for “please” Deliliah had ever heard. Zixzax merely continued on with his questions, always saying the situation was out of his control. He asked everything Deliliah could have ever thought of and more, about the nature of religions, polytheism versus monotheism, about the function of clothing and ornaments in human life, the concept of family generally and parents specifically. He seemed to struggle in particular with the fact that humans were still born and not cloned.
In the process he revealed the occasional tidbit about his people, that they were called the Aeterans and that they had visited Earth before, but nothing more about why she was here or what was in store for her at their destination. By the time they had finished the strangest study session of her life Deliliah was tired and hungry, with a deep sadness at everything she was losing settling into her bones. Even across species lines Zixzax could tell.
“Are you ok Deliliah?” he asked. “There’s some kind of moisture buildup near your eyes.” Zixzax leaned in closer, trying to examine her from only inches away as she turned from him, her shoulder hitting his forehead in the process.
“I’m crying, it means I’m very sad. Didn’t they include that on your test?”
“I don’t believe so.” Zixzax said. “The review board is more concerned with the bigger, species wide picture. Why are you sad?”
Deliliah’s voice was a sullen crack as she responded, “because I don’t think I’ll ever see my home again.”
“What is home?”
The question floored her, bringing Deliliah’s tears to a screeching halt as her brain tried to wrestle with it. What is home? Home was everything, how was someone supposed to explain that?
“How do you not understand that?” she asked. “Home is where you were born or where you grew up, it's your house or your town or even your planet. It’s the place that you can always go back to and feel safe and understood,” she could feel tears threatening again at those words.
“I do not understand.” Zixzax looked truly perplexed, his long, three fingered hands rubbing at the sides of his head. “I was born on one ship and grew to adulthood on several others. I felt no different on one of those than I did on any other. The fleet moves constantly in ever changing configurations and we come or go with it.”
“Then the fleet is your home. Wouldn’t you miss it when you were gone?”
“I never have in the past. We live on other worlds or with other species when necessary.”
“Then maybe you can’t understand…” Deliliah turned back to the alien, gathering long legs up to her chest and laying her chin on her knees. “I’m homesick already and we just left today.”
“What is homesick?” She’d seen the question coming, was already trying to sift through her brain for any way to explain it. She settled on the book still cracked open on her bedside table, a final reread never to be finished.
“There was a poem about it in a book I loved by a character who'd been exiled. I don’t know if it will help but it’s all I can think of right now. It went something like this.”
“*Settling on the fields*
*Evening steals in calm*
*And farmers count their yields.*
*The bee is in the lavender*
*The honey fills the comb*
*But here a rain falls neverending*
*And I am far from home”*
“I do not understand.” Zixzax said simply. Deliliah cried. There was nothing else for it, and with every moment she could feel the throbbing crackle of the ship's engines, like a rain in the distance that carried her further and further from home.
\----------
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. I'm working on a serial about 3 teens running into a hive mind at the moment, and there's other fun stuff like an AI trying her absolute hardest to be a cute kid. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! Also, credit the poem to Kushiel's Dart by Jacqueline Carey.
edit: thanks for the award! | 2021-01-22T09:55:54 | 2021-01-22T08:32:28 | 1,825 | 232 |
[WP] Being an orc living in an elvish village isn't as bad as you would think, but stereotypes run deep, and it's almost weekly when another elf wants to fight you because they have something prove. You're a librarian for gods sake! | I take off my spectacles and regard the young elf with a critical eye. He’s tall and better muscled than most of his kind. He holds his straightblade with a certainty and purpose that speaks to his years of training. Given his obvious confidence he is probably a formidable warrior.
I don’t recognize him, which means he’s not from Rivertree. Nor from Skyfallow, Starlake, Glenroad, or any of the other neighboring villages. Perhaps from the city of Everweave, then?
Yes, he covered his city-elf accent well but the hints were there. His father is probably city guard. That’s probably his father’s duty weapon in his hand. Oh dear.
“Listen, kid. I don’t know what you heard, but I’m not going to fight you.”
“You must! Honor demands it!” He shouted. I winced at the noise.
“Honor? I’ve seen plenty of honor, thanks but no thanks.” I shrug. “I’m a librarian, boy. Not a warrior, not a killer, certainly not affiliated in any way with the north-tribe warrior who quote-unquote stole away your lady love...”
“But--”
“And besides which that sort of thing … well ... Warspeaker Sikoza comes down hard on any orc that doesn’t abide by the Battle-Dictat of Mutual Consent. And those were signed almost a decade ago, so honestly it sounds more like your lady love just found another, perhaps greener, love.” I shrugged again. “Abique actually has a very interesting treatise on the rapidly-shifting status of females of the seven tribes if you’re interested. Aisle seven, top shelf on the left.”
“How dare you!”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what kind of honor you expect to get by beating on an elderly librarian, son. I’m not a fighter, I’m not a warrior, I have no interest or cause to fight you. So. ” I pull a heavy codex out of the returns bin. “If you don’t mind I have some reshelving to do.”
He stepped forwards. “You are mocking me.” He growled. “I will not stand for it! You WILL face me, foul beast!”
And then he did something very, very stupid.
He slapped the book out of my hands.
It tumbled open as it fell and landed pages-down. I heard the sickening sound of the badly-aged leather spine cracking.
Before I knew what was happening my hand found the axe hidden beneath my desk. Thirty pounds of black iron and stonewood. The axehead was terribly rusted except for the cutting edge itself which was mirror bright and razor sharp.
I bounded over the desk in a single stride and threw my shoulder into the lad. My elbow came up and found his solar plexus. He let out a high pitched squeak as I knocked every ounce of air out of his lungs.
By some instinct he raised his sword. I kicked it aside and brought my boot down hard on his swordarm elbow. Not hard enough to break but hard enough to hurt.
The axe came down hard on his blade, cutting it cleanly in half like it was a stick of warm hogfat.
He tried to rise up and strike at me with his free arm. I placed my foot gingerly on his chest and slowly applied pressure. He gasped as I steadily increased the weight until he was wholly unable to breathe.
“Son. That was the Codex Amanuensis. It is in fact a book about scribing other books and it is one of only seventeen copies left in existance. You just damaged its spine. So. Here is what is going to happen.”
He struggled weakly as he tried in vain to draw air into his lungs. His fingers turned white as he grasped at my ankle.
“You are going to go home. I’ll keep the sword hilt. Looks like it belongs to… Captain Lithuasi of the Royal Guard? Your mother, then, I assume? Good. You will go to your mother and tell her what happened. Tell her that her sword was shattered and beg her forgiveness. Then tell her that you need to send eight gold crowns to the Rivertree library for repairs and punitive fines.”
He was starting to turn blue. He was weeping now, tears streaming down his face and mussing up his crudely-applied (quote-unquote) warpaint.
“If you do not. Well. Perhaps you’re better not knowing what happens if you refuse me, boy.”
I lifted my foot. He sucked in the air in giant gulps as he curled up on the floor in fetal position. At one point I thought he might vomit and quickly brought him a wastebasket. But he managed to hold it in. I reshelved a couple books while he recovered.
Finally he rose to his feet, staggered, almost fell, then rose again.
He turned to leave, sniffling and crying still.
He stopped.
He turned.
“I . . .I . . . I have to know…” He said. “Not that I’m not going to do it. I’ll get you the crowns. I swear it. But I have . . . I have to know… What happens… If I don’t, I mean…”
I put on my spectacles and sigh. “I’ll send a letter to the grand library of Everweave. You will be marked with a lifetime ban from every last library in the silver kingdom, from here all the way to Crestfall. You will be banned from attending university, banned from any appointed position that might possibly require independent research. Including the royal guard, by the way.” He blanched.
“And, if I know the lads down at Everweave, you’ll probably bump into a couple scribes one day and they’ll drag you off into some alley and beat you to within an inch of your life.” I shrug. “Not by my order, you understand. But the Codex Amanuensis holds a special place in the heart of every librarian. Heck, some of those scribes might still do that even if you do pay off your debt just out of principle.”
He nodded, tears still rolling down his face. He turned and staggered slowly out of the library.
Someone laughed.
I spun around.
“Shhh.” I said, sternly. “No laughing in the library.”
I slid my axe back in the hidden compartment under my desk. I’ve gotten rid of almost everything from back in the old days but every now and then any librarian worth their salt needs a proper battle-weapon just to make sure their message gets across. I dusted off my hands.
Then it was back to reshelving… | The green skinned orc sat at the large desk in the center of the Oakmore library, a small book in his hands, his dark eyes scanning the pages as a loud yawn escaped him. There wasn't much to do at this hour in the day, most of the youth were at the local school house (though it was more of a mansion) to continue their education.
"Good day, Mr. Moor." Though, their were always a few who skipped their classes.
*Orc or fae, playing hooky seems to transcend both cultures.* Gregor-Moor glanced up from his book to the familiar face of the young elven boy who'd pretty much become his shadow; greenish blue hair, light green eyes and pointed ears, the boy had an appearance common among the fae. The only thing setting him apart was that his skin was dark brown.
"Shouldn't you be in school, Talmur," Gregor asked with a grunt.
The young fae smirked, and hopped up, taking a seat in the chair in front of the desk. "And who says I'm not."
"Because I'm staring at you. So, unless you can be in two places at once-," the orc paused for a moment, before a sigh left his lips and he closed his book. "Gods, did you get your hands on another spell book from the adult section, didn't you?"
Talmur took the small, brown tome out of his satchel and placed it on the desk. "I only borrowed it, and besides, unlike last time, I didn't take it home."
Gregor-Moor frowned. "That's not the issue here," he said, snatching up the tome. "These tomes are not like regular magic books, kid, if you mess up it could be dangerous. Life threatening, even."
"I know, I'm not stupid," Talmur said with a pout. "I only practice the spells I came handle. Besides, who needs school when you're a genius like me."
While it was true that the young fae was a prodigy when it came to magic, Gregor-Moor was quick to try and get him out of that way of thinking. "A genius you may be, but even a genius needs school," the orc said. "How do you expect to excel when you don't learn anything new. Your brain will go to waste."
"But, school is so boring," Talmur groaned. "The lessons are way too easy, or its stuff I already read about here, and I ace every test."
Gregor-Moor placed a clawed finger to his chin in thought. "It sounds to me like you might need to be bumped up a grade. Have you told any of this to your teachers?"
"No."
"Well, talk to them about it, and maybe the counselor as well," Gregor-Moor advised. "I'm sure they'll find a way to make school more interesting for you."
"I never thought to do that," Talmur muttered. "Are you sure they'll listen to a faeling, though?"
"If they care about your education, then yes, they will."
Talmur gave a nod, and hopped out of his seated, making his way to the large oak doors of the library door. "I guess I'll give it a try. My friends were right, you are pretty smart for an orc. See you later, Mr. Moor."
*Pretty smart for an orc, huh?* A frown came to Gregor-Moor's face at the words. He didn't blame the Talmur, or any of the other children when they made such remarks about him and his kind, after all, these were all things said to and around them by other adults, fae and human alike.
The village of Greenmald was a peaceful and quiet settlement on the outskirts of the Karkast-Kingdom, east of the forbidden forest. Most of the population were fae-born; fairies, pixies, greenlings, srubkins, and the ones making up the vast majority being elves. The air was clean, the water was free of pollutants, and the residents were friendly to travelers and strangers until one gave them a reason not to be.
It was because the town was so peaceful that Gregor-Moor decided to move in and become the towns new librarian after the last one, some young half-elf boy barely out of his teens, quit and joined up with the Spell-Makers Guild.
But, even with all its positives, Greenmald had its faults. Orcs were disliked by the populace to a certain degree, and it wasn't too much of a surprise why. After the Great Orc Invasion and the horrible war that followed some two decades ago, wreaking havoc across a number of kingdoms and countries, orcs had quite recovered in terms of reputation.
Granted, a number of stereotypes existed well before the war; things like orcs being simple minded, savages and rapist, that they were related to pigs and hogs simply because their noses were of similar shape and so on. Gregor-Moor grew up in a mainly orc populated country, but even then, the stereotypes were ever present.
But, that wasn't to say some of the stereotypes did hold a little bit of truth to them. Orcs could be brash and stubborn to a fault, but it was also that drive that made it so hard for orcs to give up or surrender. It was one of the reasons the war last for five years instead of ending after three when Al-Dris, the orc capital, got taken.
\----
And that's all I'm able to right for now, seeing as its the end of my shift at work. Let me know what you all think. | 2021-03-10T20:55:32 | 2021-03-10T19:17:20 | 49 | 14 |
[WP] All the alien species in the intergalactic council excelled in one way or another to climb through survival of the fittest. So why are humans, a species with average physique, so hard to deal with? And what the hell is persistence hunting. | Our triumph had nearly come. My aide reported that a few well placed payments to cousins of my colleague from Abrax, and we'd secured the votes we needed to pass the bill legalizing our future conquests, even if the Galactic council didn't know it, and to halt the slow 'self determination' movement that had been putting pressure on the Empire to release our client states. As if they would even know how to govern without our direction!
Only the humans seemed suspicious of the bill enough to campaign hard against it, and they'd rallied their usual sycophants in a so-called 'freedom caucus' to defeat it. Fortunately for us, money in the pocket of a politician speaks more loudly than their promises and ideas of economic 'galacticization' and future growth.
Now, it was just time to sit back, and wait a few more hours for the inevitable bombastic speeches and self aggrandization of the politicians. This was the last thing on the agenda for this session before taking recess for the next year, but no matter, as my fellows were looking exhausted from the long session today. The discussion would draw to a close, the vote would happen, and there would be no time left for anyone to try to reverse it.
With a happy sigh, I relaxed into my chair, thinking of the reward the Emperor would surely give me. The galaxy's armies might have united against our military if we tried to conquer our neighbors... but it will be so much sweeter to take them over diplomatically before they realized it.
As I watched, the human, looking surprisingly chipper, slowly walked up the podium, holding some large fabric bound object. No doubt here to beg for the assembled groups to reconsider. Ha! The fool had already lost even if he didn't accept it.
Sitting down at the podium, he opened up the object he'd carried up, which looked to be some kind of large thick book. Not even a data slate, how antiquated.
He started speaking, "Esteemed assembled representatives of their peoples. I would like to come up here to talk about the lessons of history. Of my own race's past where bills like this were introduced for the express purpose of personal gain. The mistakes that we've made in our past. That... that's a book that I'd suggest you all read someday. One far thicker than the one I brought up here with me. But now, in the closing hours of our session, I'd like to read you from another book. The english dictionary. And I think I'll start somewhere in the middle, with the letter F, for 'filibuster'..." | He collapsed on the far side of the rock, air sacs pulsating as he tried to oxygenate his system. His hind limbs were shaking, he knew he couldn't go on much further. He peered back and saw the creature, pink skin layered over with synthetic fibers it's two legged stride ate up the ground between them as it started to close the gap yet again. It hadn't changed speed since this chase started almost ten hours ago, and didn't seem especially fatigued by the chase so far. He, on the other hand, was almost out of energy.
He waited as long as he could to re-oxygenate, and then when the creature was only five body length away he heaved himself to his hooves and started a new sprint. The distance opened: 10 bodylengths; 15; 20; something in his left hind leg spasmed and he collapsed. The human was still coming. Back to his hooves. Forelimbs down, hindlimbs forward, JUMP; forelimbs down, hindlimbs forward, JUMP, Forelimbs down, hindlimbs... didn't move. His muzzle hit the dirt. He didn't look behind him, he knew it would still be there, still moving with that strange ground-eating stride.
A few seconds later he felt the creature's stride vibrating the dirt. He heaved himself forewords with his forelimbs. Made it maybe half a bodylength. Too much dead weight. The footfalls stopped. He craned his neck and looked at the pink creature - he had grown a single, long claw - gleaming in the sunlight. It moved, the claw flashing down in a single long cut, and there was darkness. | 2021-02-04T11:55:21 | 2021-02-04T10:56:14 | 94 | 43 |
[WP] Your doppelgänger climbs through your window one night. You scream, but instead of killing you to replace you in your world like they normally would, they’re here to say goodbye, just having wanted to meet you before they disappear forever. | I bolted upright in my bed and flicked on my bedside light. It was like I was staring at my own reflection in the window, but her hair flickered in the slight breeze and she wasn’t wearing her (my?) PJs.
“What? Who are you?” I scrabbled around to grab my phone.
“Don’t do that. Don’t worry.” She stepped into my room. “Put that down. Put it down.” I sat stunned. She was me. The same voice, same look. But I was me.
“I know you’re confused. I’m not meant to be doing this. But… I couldn’t leave without saying how proud I am of you.”
“What are you talking about?” I said.
“Heh. Probably not I guess. You’ve had a rough year. Your parents… new school… losing friends. More. No one deserves that hardship. And you suffered. That’s why I was… well… made.”
I just stared in silence.
“You have no idea how many things you woulda lost, or how dirty you let your room become. No one can blame you. So I helped pick up dropped items and clean up some of your mess. But now. Now you’re getting better again. You smile, you sing in your room, you open the curtains to see the first rays of sunshine again. I’m not needed anymore. And it’s been an honour.”
With that she turned and left into the night. The only sign of her ever being here was the window still being open. I laid back down and switched off my light a tear rolling down my cheek. | "What do you mean disappear forever? Are you supposed to follow me 'round, trying to slowly steal my life?"
The mirrored man sat on the window ledge before speaking again: "Ordinarily yes, but doppelgängers only look like others on the surface, the mentality is completely different, so when someone becomes involved in a key point of time due to their own mentality and way of thinking, their doppelgänger gets erased."
I sit up a little more, my hands resting in my lap. Curious as to this whole ordeal... "Well, maybe you could ask to not be erased? Could be nice having a double around..." | 2022-11-07T08:17:55 | 2022-11-07T06:25:15 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] You're a villain that fell in love with a hero. Though the strongest villain on the planet, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and don't want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain, one too strong for them to beat. | For decades, maybe even centuries, I had terrified the world. The monster under the bed, the seductress who stole men's hearts and crushed them between her fingers, notorious bank robber, crusher of men and women alike, and the woman who really did rule all.
It wasn't vindictiveness or hatred that drove me to these new heights of evil all those years ago, but necessity. See, when supers are born their powers don't usually become immediately obvious - they live a normal life all through high school and then one day, usually some boring Tuesday, they get blindsided by virtually unlimited power. It's made keeping track of supers an absolute nightmare for the government, but that's a story for another time.
Not so for me. When I was born, what I was and what I could do became immediately obvious. Born with fangs, a natural taste for blood, and the ability to steal the powers of anything I drank from, I gained fame rapidly as a child.
That made me a target.
The first supervillain to attack me attacked when I was just three years old. I remember to this day the feeling of terror as I hid in a closet whilst he brutally eviscerated my parents and left them as piles of offal and meat with shredded skin to one side of the room. That maniacal high pitched lilt he used to giggle out the words "Come out and play, little one, your worst nightmare has come to say hi!" whilst ripping and tearing his way through the house in search of me. As luck would have it, I hid myself up high in one of the cupboards, so when his barbed wire clad arm blasted a hole in the door below me I dropped down and sunk my teeth in deep, ignoring the pain and the wire ripping at my hands. The police said they found him babbling about being robbed a few miles away, still covered in the viscera of my parents.
Those were the first powers I took - super strength, the ability to project focused shockwaves and hyperintelligence.
A decade later, no orphanage would have me. No school would willingly accept me as a student. I was an outcast, simply because I was a target. Stronger and stronger villains wanted me for their own, and as a child the monsters that wanted me to play murder with them were just that - monsters. But every time they attacked, I won. Every fight, I left them alive and broken, lost without their powers. Even one guy, Stork I think it might have been, who believed himself invulnerable to my power draining abilities due to "not having any powers" was left beaten and broken, his mechanical super suit smashed and his ability to invent more taken from him.
Numerous government anonymity plans, numerous hideouts, even the plans to keep me totally secure in the hero academy they set up just to protect me failed. Eventually, I learned why they wanted me there - I was the big stick they used to scare the villains away. Any nation that built a super squad to invade another nation fought off the loss of their supers to my fangs. Villains simply wouldn't attack, because it would mean the loss of their powers. I was the mutually assured destruction initiative, a 15 year old girl just maturing into the vampire I truly was, the girl that terrified the monsters.
Eventually, the the force of human nature gripped my supervisors. Greed. They sought to use me to conquer the world, and I refused. They wanted power, and I wanted nothing to do with it. They tried torturing me, commited countless inhumane acts on a woman barely entering adulthood, from torture through rape and all the way to near death.
I wouldn't fight back, and I wouldn't kill. Especially not humans. It took me two years of this to realise that these people really were just more monsters.
I took revenge on the first person who violated me in a violent shower of blood and gore. They thought that they had won, and began plotting to use me as a weapon. I made human meat soup out of their war offices.
Taking lives, it seems, is terribly easy when you have become so powerful that skipping a stone across the sea might accidentally level a small city on another continent. I became what they had desired, in a way, for a while. I had total power, a beautiful young woman trapped at age 21 by time, and so powerful I ruled the world. After a hundred or more years of this, I grew completely bored. I retreated into my home, becoming a hermit in the mountains, the typical villain in her lair.
Heroes came after me, seeing me as the great evil my acts had been reported as. With super speed on levels they could barely comprehend, faster even than those that could teleport, I drained them of their powers and left their beaten selves at the foot of the mountain. Villains received the same treatment. Even the one they called AntiMatter, who annihilated everything he touched, was all but an insect before me.
Until she came along. A low level hero, hardly able to use her telekinesis, who walked into my lair barely able to stand from the terror. She called out my name, and I appeared in front of her. For some reason, I didn't strike. For some reason I didn't put her down like those before her.
"I just want to talk" she said.
So I listened. Eventually, she convinced me to stand down, that the bloodshed wasn't worth it. I let her shackle me, and we walked out into the open, the first time I'd been out in countless years. Though she didn't know it, that day I gave her immortality.
For me, at least, it was love at first sight. The heroine who won, won because she captivated me. She knew she couldn't win, she knew that I could kill her, perhaps even by accident, and she didn't care. She saw me as misunderstood, and I loved her for it.
I broke out of prison the first time when a super, posing as a guard, attacked me for what he believed I'd done to his family. He was irrational, and wanted me dead because his family were killed in a nuclear attack that was blamed on me, back in the early days when governments used me as an excuse to kill each other. I didn't mean to kill him, but he used magnetism to fire ball bearings at near light speeds at people. Pretty powerful, but nothing to me. It was an accident when I stepped back, accidentally sending one of the hundreds of bearings he fired at me around the 6-foot thick titanium walls that made up my cell, until it bounced at multiple times the speed of sound straight through his head. I didn't really kill him, so much as he did himself, but I could have and should have stopped it.
It made her upset, and the second time she came to visit me she made that clear. I promised her no more killing, and went back to the cell. I confessed to her, and she told me that after I served my time she would consider it. I made her promise to visit me, and she did. She always kept her promise.
One day, just as the guards were walking me out of visitation, the prison came under attack. Vardon, one of the highest level supervillains around, fired beams of energy so powerful they turned the air around them into plasma, wanted to free me, and fight me.
Sera stood her ground, futilely, as the near-god villain fought. He fired a beam so powerful it should have left the entire prison a crater at her. I threw her out of the way, and blocked it, before subduing her. I didn't account for how fragile she really was.
A year later, I still visit her in hospital. She hasn't woken up yet, and not a day goes by I don't wish she did. I've been searching, far and wide, for a hero with true healing abilities. See, Sera won't die, but I accidentally turned her spine to near dust. She can't heal, either. I keep trying, and trying, and trying. I will save her.
Because my pardon came months ago, with the apologies of the world broadcast on every screen. They're still scared of me, but they understand me better now. I'm still a person, and I have one I love to protect, just like everybody else. Maybe one day she'll wake up. Maybe one day we can go on a date, like two normal girls should be able to. Maybe.
Please? | It was night again, and for many, it was time to work.
The criminal underground is a nocturnal menace, writhing and growing wherever the sun and light do not reach. Uncaring of what it consumes so long as it can do exactly that. Many give in willingly to the ebb and flow of corruption; for some it is their life purpose. Others desire a little more...
Power. Control. Domination.
Blitz was like that when he discovered his biofeedback abilities. Being able to augment your body by sheer power of will has made him an incredibly tough opponent to conquer. In fact, in the last few years, nobody had been able to do just that, and when you're a villain with no worthy rivals, you get bored.
And idle hands are the devil's workshop, as they say.
So Blitz had given it up. He abandoned his followers, destroyed his own empire, and relinquished all control to whomever asked. Things changed so rapidly the heroes didn't know how to keep up or who to go after anymore. Chaos erupted, cities fell apart.
Blitz was happy. Now there was something to do. *Now* there were people to crush.
His other rivals were able to gather resources and grow stronger. Their lackies became more in number and trickier to beat. Blitz still never lost, but he was having fun. He never took what he won, he only sought to fight for the thrill. Some started referring to his challenges as security tests; they weren't taking him seriously. Pop a few heads and everyone falls back in line. Simple and effective.
Crime ran rampant now, but where there can only be so much pain and suffering before the "right" person comes along. That person would come to be known as Peacemaker.
Blitz watched all the tapes. Peacemaker was immune to physical damage, he could heal the sick, purify food or drink, and he was bad *ass* with his bo staff.
He was *everything*. Blitz knew now he had a purpose. This man would not be able to be defeated in their first, or maybe even their third, clash, but he had to know what it would take. How do you break a man like that? Blitz studied endlessly. There was *nothing*. No one could beat him.
In their first meeting, Blitz would hold back, just to test him. After four hours of grueling combat, Blitz's body would finally give out. Crumpled on the ground, Peacemaker gave a hearty laugh.
"Most impressive! I had heard *so* many stories about you, friend. You're quite the criminal legend, you know."
"How-?" Blitz could barely draw breath to make more than one word at a time.
"My healing is truly miraculous. When my muscles break down, they heal back up. It seems I can just.....go forever!" He laughed again. "Ah good, your escort is here. Stand please!"
The police? Was this a joke?
"Blitz, it was truly fun, but I don't suppose I'll be seeing you again. Enjoy your stay."
Over the next few months they would clash again. Blitz pushed harder, tried ambushes, poison, crushing him under a building. His powers were growing but no matter what he tried: nothing would stop the Peacemaker.
"Wait-" Blitz gasped on their umpteenth fight. Peacemaker had outlasted him yet again, despite being impaled three times.
"You know, you're really getting on my nerves. I'm working exceptionally hard to end crime in this city, and here you are! Some *rogue* with no purpose, holding me up time and time again! Do you not see the good I'm doing? Do you not understand?"
"I'll get you-"
The police dragged him away before Peacemaker could finish ranting, but Blitz had figured it out. It was so simple all this time. To beat a man that cannot be hurt, you must simply, and indefinitely, restrain him. How had he not thought of it? What was it that had been clouding his judgement for the better part of a year? As he rode away in the police car, one last stare at Peacemaker would reveal his answer.
Love.
How could this be? Blitz had never *loved* before, there was no time for it! Love was weakness, he had no room for it in his mind!
Over the next several battles, Blitz would not push himself to his maximum. Peacemaker noticed.
"You are not trying hard enough! You are simply wasting my time!" He grew frustrated. "You *must* see by now what I am doing! Surely you cannot be so dense! Explain yourself!"
"Maybe I don't have a reason," Why was he grinning? Stop grinning! "Maybe I just like to fight."
"Every, and I do mean *every*, time we fight, another gutter rat slips out of my gasp! It is not possible that you work for all of them." They were now face to face, Peacemaker's face red with fury, but Blitz was blushing. You couldn't tell the difference. "There *IS* a reason you are doing this, and I *WILL*-"
A shot rang out. Peacemaker looked over at his back.
"Really?! Bullets?" More shots. "Is every criminal in this city exceptionally stupid? Come out! Let us get this over with."
Blitz was scanning the buildings surrounding them. Muzzle flash to the left. Who would be stupid enough? He took a step.
"We will finish this when I get back! Do *not* move or I will find something sharp." Peacemaker looked so good when he was angry. It wasn't a look he wore often enough.
"Ah, don't worry. I'm sure I know those guys, I'll just go see what this is about and we can get on with our duel. I promise I won't leave you." He left with a wink. A wink? Peacemaker must know by now. There's no way he missed that.
Up in the parking garage he was met with minions wearing colors he hadn't seen in a long time. *His* colors. They saluted him.
"Sir!"
"Don't *sir* me, who are you really with? I haven't had an army for months."
Silence.
"Answer!"
"We've been working with the Determinator, sir! He believes he's found a solution and we wanted you to have this, as you are Peacemaker's greatest rival! We're ready to fire, sir!"
He scanned the other workers in the room. "Fire what, exactly? Looks like just a rocket launcher."
"Did he say fire?"
It all happened in slow motion. The thruster lit up and shot forward. Blitz barely crossed the room before it was too late. Peacemaker stood in the middle of the road, unaware and lost in thought in the middle of the street. Did he not hear Blitz's shouting? The minion's words were bouncing off of him.
"-target the brain-"
"-complete evisceration-"
Blitz gave one last shout. Peacemaker looked up and met his eyes. It would be the last time he would be lost in that cathartic blue sea before red would coat the surrounding area.
The minions celebrated. Blitz crumbled. This was his fault. If he would've just left him alone, or turned and joined him...
A new fire lit in his eyes.
(I dunno how to do the big line thing that everyone else is doing but - I don't write very often so I hope the formatting isn't shit and that you guys enjoyed it) | 2017-09-17T03:08:23 | 2017-09-17T02:57:40 | 83 | 31 |
[WP] Unlike most people with super powers, you're perfectly content to mind your own business while using your powers in normal everyday activities. However the heroes seem to have decided that your disinterest in world affairs is suspicious and you're clearly faking it to hide your true agenda. | "Hello Jackson."
Those words, in that tone, by that voice. The same voice that had the "Ruler of Ten Worlds begging on his knees. I wish I could be even a bit frightened, but after twenty times, it gets old. The same words, every time.
"No and go."
Genesis raised an eyebrow, but other than that, didn't respond. I slid off my pack, hung it on the rack, and was halfway through grabbing out my notebook when she spoke again.
"I've already seen through your plan. You don't need to try to pretend with me."
"Pretend what? That I'm secretly plotting to take over the world? Oh, wait, you mean my legitimate plan to get a degree and enter the workforce, right."
"Legitimate? Damascus will get a partner before I believe it's 'legitimate.' I know you, Jackson. I've stopped you multiple times as well."
"When? When you tried to break my wrist because I was about to offer the waiter a tip and you thought I was going to shoot him? When you went through my private box because you thought I was building a bomb? All the times you have gotten me kicked out of universities because you thought a project was a mind control device?! Are those incidents 'stopping me?'"
Genesis blinked and stepped backwards at this. She obviously didn't expect that big of an outburst. I have to admit, I did smile a bit. It was good to see the usually infallible Savior crack a bit. I took a breath, then continued my tirade.
"Maybe, after twenty times, you could get it through your head that maybe I have no bigger plan? Maybe that I have moved on from my immaturity and just want to move through life like anyone normally would? Maybe, just maybe, I do not want to be evil and just want peace? "
"I have heard that excuse before. If you truly aren't as you said you are, what about the two men you sent to the hospital? The professor who went mad after you joined his class?"
"First off, you sent Teebo and Fishboy after me, and I sent them to the hospital because they wouldn't go down otherwise and were trying to murder me. As for the professor, that was the Mad King who did that, not me. I was the one who told you he was there! You know what his powers are!"
"So you could play yourself off as the victim? I don't think so. As for my teammates, they told me the real story. About how you threatened them, screamed at them, attacked them."
"Only somewhat true, I only screamed at them for threatening me. Aren't those two notorious liars, anyway? Why would you believe them over literally any of the fifteen eyewitnesses that I know were watching?"
I had walked to my couch as we were talking, Genesis following behind at a distance to keep me in sight. I was about to pull out my ZCube controller from its drawer when she stopped me, grabbing me by the wrist like she did two years ago. Hoo boy.
"Because I know you, brother. I have known your mindset for your entire life has been one of greed and powerlust. Because I remember what it was like when we were young, and you tormented me."
I knew what she was talking about. I was... Not a good kid. Nor a good brother. I had done some cruel things towards my sister, especially as I grew older. But...
"I am not that kid anymore. I grew up. I gained a different mindset. I have matured and have tried to, if not fix, then at least make up for my actions. I know you will probably never forgive me. But I am done being that arrogant, wannabe villain."
I yanked my arm out of her grip, causing her to fly into the soft sofa on the other side of the room. Oops. At least nothing was broken.
"And now I just want you to leave. I have games to play."
She got up, slightly dazed but angry. As she stepped out onto the balcony, I could feel her eyes drilling into me.
"I will expose you for the liar you are. You will get your due."
"Cool. Oh, and by the way, Damascus invited me to his wedding. He found a girl with ice powers or something, and apparently they've been going steady for a while. See you there, maybe."
She flew off without a word, and I turned on my game, sat back, and smiled. | “Why me?”
I thought as I’m walking while two heroes are stalking me. I can’t possibly be the only person with powers that just minds their own business, so why are they targeting me? I guess it could be that I have multiple are pretty strong powers, I can use both fire and ice, as well as lift stuff with my mind, including myself. I don’t really hide my abilities, and people would ask me if I’m a hero or not, but when I say no it’s not really a big surprise to them, so what’s wrong with these guys?
Today I messed up, extremely! Before they were just suspicious of me, now they have a reason to attack me. I was walking home one day, when I saw a major mess in the middle of the street, I see a villain just got there butt kicked, and now they’re scanning the area, one of their minions must have gotten away or something. I press myself against the wall cause if they see me walking away I might look suspicious. Then we make eye contact, just me, someone they don’t trust already, just standing suspiciously at the scene of the crime.
“Damn it!”
“Oh wait did I say that out loud, Uhh walk away, why am I still talking.”
So that’s why I’m being followed, and soon I think I lose the heroes, then something worse happens. I’m out at night for whatever reason I don’t even remember anymore the reason fled my mind immediately, when I’m approached by a villain, I was about to send him packing.
“Hold on wait! I just want to talk.”
“About what exactly?”
“So these heroes were asking if you worked for me, we’ll not directly asking they hinted at it, the point is I looked into you.”
“If your asking me to be a villain it’s not going to happen.”
“Unless you pick a side, no one’s going to leave you alone.”
“I’m aware of that, by why would I pick your side exactly?”
“Because of what the heroes said about you, I know heroes, when they say stuff they mean it.”
“What exactly did they say.”
“It was something like, he’s so strong and he’s wasting it all, even if he isn’t a villain if he’s that dumb he has no purpose alive.”
I would think he was lying but I’m absolutely not surprised.
“I don’t hate people exactly, it’s heroes I hate, they make us like this, they cast us out and drive us to the brink of no return, I think having you on our side would be good, because you haven’t been broken yet. I would be lying if I said I cared if bystanders got hurt, I’m aiming for the heroes and no one else. Maybe if your on our side, you can help us make sure only the heroes got hurt.”
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t contemplating his offer, he looked up to the side and then back down at me.
“See let me prove my point.”
He then grabs me by the throat, and held me in the air for about 10 seconds.
That’s when the heroes drop down, and sends a shockwave that sends both of us down. Then while one went an attacked the villain the other came after me, they clearly seem I was getting attacked. Okay so maybe this guy has a point.
“Fine!”
I grab both the heroes with my powers and sent them flying, I grabbed the villain by the hand, and we booked it.
“I’ll do it, I’ll be a villain, just promise me you’ll try your best to make sure no one besides them gets hurt.” | 2021-08-16T16:57:27 | 2021-08-16T13:29:39 | 679 | 145 |
[WP] You are Low-Key, the Norse God of really subtle mischief. | Why *did* Thor keep all this useless junk. Low-Key observed the collection with curiosity, occasionally picking something up to inspect. Trophies of all his wonderful endeavours, no doubt. Thor had always been one for showing off, for displays of power, wealth, and overcomplicated execution in the name of grandeur. Ridiculous. Low-Key was far more subtle. Subtlety, in fact, was his talent. He selected a tiny skull, blackened with scorch marks and covered in webs of cracks, tossed it in the air as if it were an apple from a tree, and placed it back where he had found it, just half an inch out of place. He suppressed a smirk. How *infuriating* this must be, to have command over the skies and yet be driven to insanity by something so subtly mischievous. That would do for today. Low-Key nodded with satisfaction. As he turned to leave, he glanced wistfully to the table in the middle of the room, as he always did. His white whale, his obsession, Mjolnir sat there, glowing and humming, almost taunting him. He had to try. Approaching the hammer, he grasped the handle and twisted hard. Just an inch, he thought, *please*. Nothing. He let go, unsuccessful yet again. One day, he thought as he left the room, Thor won't know what's hit him. | The great tuppaware riot of 2056 was the beginning of the end for human civilisation as we know it. For years ordinary people had felt mounting frustration at attempting to store left overs or prepare packed lunches only to find, inexplicably, that no lid matched any one container. This was the straw that broke the back of the ordinary people.
But today hope has returned in the form of Norse God Low-key! For in exchange for our eternal devotion He shall deliver eternal peace, tranqulity, and the location of your tuppaware lids which were spirited away by 'forces unknown'. | 2018-01-27T23:20:19 | 2018-01-27T23:00:54 | 30 | 14 |
[WP] The Rest of the team has been wiped out and a Healer-type character is making a desperate last stand. | And then Moore was gone too.
I looked around at my squad members, the last of my family for the past two days. I should say the guilt of not saving their lives was crushing. I should say I was overwhelmed by the sight of my dead friends. I should say I rose up from the agony and rage within...
But it wasn't, I wasn't, and I didn't.
I just sat there and stared. Numb. Each member of the family had contributed. Yates found the only place we would have had any chance of covering the platoon's retreat. Now more than eight hours since he found the small basement window among the rubble of the building above, Yates was our core. He always knew what to do to keep us together. A short wrestler from Indiana, the kid was tough, fearless, invincible. He was the first to go.
PJ fell shortly after; two bullets to the face. Nothing for me to do.
We held out for another two hours before Beeman was hit in the shoulder and upper thigh. Fighting to stop the bleeding, I used the last of my morphine and clean bandages on Beeman. That's when Sheidler was hit.
Beeman slowly bled out, of course. With his blood pooling on the floor went my courage and my fight. That's when I went numb. Moore had long since grabbed his BAR to remind any curious Germans that we still had bite. He was yelling the most colorful insults we knew, but ammo was low. It was only a matter of time.
We could have been easily overrun by the ten, or so, Germans holed-up across the street, but Moore would have at least gotten a few of them. They're no idiots. They didn't want to be here any more than us. They shot at us for the same reason we shot at them: because they were being shot at. A horrible irony not lost on either side, yet with no way of breaking the vicious cycle.
And then Moore was gone too.
We could have ran, defying orders, exposing the retreating platoon's flank. It wasn't even our platoon, we had only been with them the last two days. They are the ones who sent us on this suicide mission to protect their own hides anyway. We could have easily run the other direction. We didn't run.
We fought for ourselves, our squad. Yates went, so we followed. It never occurred to us to leave one another. Even as he fell, we fought for us, for our family. Yet, one by one they died. And then there was just me.
I could easily surrender. The platoon was certainly far enough away for my stand to end. But it was never about them, anyway. The platoon was alive, and I was alive, neither of witch being the reasons I fought.
I fought for the dead men laying around me. The dead men who fought for me. I could surrender to finish the war as a prisoner, to hopefully return home some day... home without Yates. Without PJ. Without Beeman. Without Sheidler. Without Moore.
That wasn't home. There was no more home. My home is where these five men are. Where these five men lay. I fight for my home and my family.
An overwhelming peace clarified my decision. I tore the red cross off my arm, and grabbed the rifle for the first time.
A bloody scream pierced the night as the last American fired maniacally, desperate to join his family again. | High on a rocky bluff, Jack watched as Ceda crumpled like a rag doll. The blow sent her to her knees, daggers dropping from her fingers, and she toppled down in front of Boldre. Jack roared, the wind whipping his voice away. He drove his staff into the rocks. It left a singed round mark, black against grey.
She had been the last. Boldre turned his eyes up the hill to Jack. For the first time he felt the full weight of his gaze: the lost white fires burning deep within him. He must have grown: eight, no--ten feet tall now, stepping over Ceda, Kali, and Nate in the muddy lows of the carr. Their lives meant nothing to him, not to who he was now.
The wind pulled at Jack again. He stood, frozen on the rocks. Boldre brought the dark with him, the sun vanishing behind the clouds and casting a grey wave of darkness over the valley. The heat drained out of the air, leaving Jack gasping like a crying child, stealing with it his bravery.
Jack turned, looking up to the valley mouth. Maybe before he would have made it, with Boldre further away. He closed the gap between them, moving more swiftly than any man had a right to. Grey smoke came away from his body in slow curls, Boldre's mouth set in a thin line. The magic he held within him leaked out. It would be destroying him from the inside, tearing away at the fabric of his soul and turning him into *something else.*
Only metres away, Boldre stopped. The ground shook with a pulse as he opened his mouth. Yet more magic streamed away from him, like a soul struggling to leave his body it billowed and dissipated into the crackling air. It burned at his eyes and Boldre shook. Jack raised his staff, hands locked to it in cold.
"Heal me," he said to Jack. "Take it away. I can't bear it any more."
Beneath Boldre's voice, a hundred-thousand others joined it in a begging chorus.
"I can't," Jack found he sobbed.
"Take it away," Boldre begged again. The smoke curled from his hands, condensing in his palms. Beneath his feet, the tall grass whipped itself into a frenzy. Jack's robes flapped towards it, drawn in to the current of air.
"I can't heal you," Jack cried over the sound of the wind. "I can only kill you to stop it."
"Kill me then," Boldre replied. The roar ate up at his voice and his eyes turned black as the magic burned them out. "Make it stop!" his voice was only a scream. "Make the pain stop."
Jack had never been a killer, only a healer. He raised his staff.
-------------
/r/Schoolgirlerror
| 2016-07-17T06:21:33 | 2016-07-17T04:45:21 | 79 | 23 |
[WP] A technology is invented that allows us to hear sounds locked into the clay of ancient pots as they were being formed. What is extracted are conversations that will alter the perception of history in the most terrifying of ways. | *God I hate him.*
Of course, the “*most brilliant mind of our time*” is a complete moron. And his name is Jerry. First, He radicalized the historical record by developing a device for reading micro impressions left on malleable mediums. Delivered the speech about it via recordings he left on play-doh figures *of himself talking*. Believing it to be a joke, everyone considered walking out, until he played the Rosetta Stone like a record on a turn table, and got *15 more languages* out of it. The worst part? He calls it the *”Historical Record...Player”* because it plays the...wait for it... historical records. I hate him.
Not 2 years later, he almost magically discovers time travel. He’s every archeologist’s hero, the dream, Indiana Jones meets H.G. Wells meets Jules Verne.
Just before the greatest dig of my life... the dig that would have launched my career into the upper echelons of history, I spoke out against him. His unprofessionalism, cavalier attitudes, and the immense irresponsibilities and liberties used when time traveling, his trash is littering the historical record... he disappeared. Assumed he died talking selfies with dinosaurs, he was treated as passed on.
Onto my dig: the oldest surviving pottery ever discovered, containing ornate figures only I could have ever deciphered, falls into my lap. It was like a time capsule, with an edible honey sample, early paper with early language written on it, and beautiful decorations inlaid. The honey tasted incredible, as the glyphs has predicted the eternal shelf life of honey, it welcomed a try. After analyzing it all, and having carbon dating confirmed everything, we played it on the Historical Record...Player. Genuine conversation was held between the craftsman and a companion. Revelations into life we had never seen before came to life, when suddenly the record appeared to scratch. There was a blast of sound, and a commotion, followed by what appeared to be someone smoothing the situation over.
Then a new speaker began, and I felt my life fall to pieces. Every dig of my career was a sham. All placed by Jerry with the soul purpose of guiding me to this point. He made the jar. All these pieces of history were from his private collection, and were allowed to age for millennia. He spoke of every detail, as he was responsible for it.
Jerry told me I never should have spoken against him. He put his dick in the honey I ate.
*God I hate him.* | They were right when they said that Sound is the very Vibration of Matter, recent research indicates that Matter stores every Sound it had ever 'heard' in the form of quantum-stasi vibrations which could be recalculated using Fermi-Dirac statistics in tandem with inverse Fourier Transforms, which would give back the original sounds or at least a version of them.
We first tried it out on a pot, one found in the Fertile Crescent, it was about 15,000 years old. What we heard surprised us, we always were expecting a rich culture, but what we heard, and understood defied our beliefs. While we have known that humans have wondered about Creation and existence for at the very least the last five millennia, even fifteen millennia humanity was wondering about the same questions.
It was truly historic, as we got a glimpse into the life of the birth of humanity as we know it. As Farming was born, and as humans ploughed ahead from hunting-gathering to farming.
Soon we realized that we could listen to the past through anything, what we heard had revelations beyond imagination.
We used it on the Shroud of Turin, the last few words we heard were, "Take care of them Mary". Maybe some of those oft quoted conspiracy theories were right after all.
We then checked it on the ruins Theatre of Pompey in Rome, what we heard made it look like Shakespeare was right after all, Ceaser was trying to balance an unchecked Oligarchy.
A new dimension has opened in our world, and we are heading into a new scary world. One where secrets can no longer exist, as they can be unearthed as easily as eating cake.
We are heading into tumultuous times.
| 2019-03-18T17:38:49 | 2019-03-18T17:23:16 | 56 | 37 |
[WP] You are the luckiest person on Earth. Everything you make an attempt for works in your favor. However, there two catches: you are absorbing the luck of those around you, and anyone who tries to profit from your luck (even with your help) is met with the worst luck immediately.
Holy crap, front page of the sub!
Great work everyone! The stories you're generating are awesome!
Thanks for all the submissions! Keep them coming! | I laid on the tattered rug and rested my head against the rusty fence. The warm air from the vent underneath is soothing.
My stomach grumbled. I reached out and felt the energy around me. It was thick and velvety. That's good. I wouldn't want to be in the downwind when it happens.
I closed my eyes, wanting to catch a bit of a snooze before my food came. I never know how it would come, but it always does. I try my best to get upwind when I start to feel hungry. At least there'd be enough luck to go around that people wouldn't feel the effect of my free meal.
The fence was scratchy. I tried to ignore it. Be content, I tell myself. Want nothing.
I count my blessings. I am alive; that's good. I have my limbs; that's nice. I have a rug; more than I'd ever ask for.
I hug the rug closer. It smells kind of nice. Earthy. It's comforting, and warm.
And I have this fence. Without it, I'd be lying on pebbles. I like this fence. It's perfect just the way it is.
A stranger walked past me, making a big circle, trying not to catch the crazy. I sat there, laughing to myself because I was enjoying the fence so fucking much.
**===**
When I woke up, there were cats around me. A yellow one, two white one, four black ones. They had fish in their mouth, freshly grilled. A bad day for a street vendor somewhere.
I yawned and the cats jumped, dropping their treats and disappeared around a wall. I scrambled over on my knees and ate.
The energy had shifted. It's less thick now, washing over me in waves, stretched thin here and there. There was a child crying down the street. She dropped her ice cream when the waves rolled over her, catching her in a thin spot.
I stuck a fish into my mouth, shoved the rest against my stomach, wrapping my shirt up to hold them in place, and got up to leave my little paradise. I looked to the west, and saw a river of energy flowing that way. Time to find my new home. | ... years have passed, I've learned to appreciate my luck, and think I have, too, found the way to love anyone, and for they not to be punished by my curse.
I have experienced the desperation of the bad luck myself. I was born like this. My parents were always there, hardworking to provide me the things that I didn't easily get from the universe; but while growing, evidence of their resentment and disturbance towards each other came floating, as they grew apart and bitter.
As a teen it was great also. Great at all sports, mainly soccer. Played only one season and won the trophy as Player with Most Goals in the Competition, but the team got relegated and lost the sponsors that maintained us in the league.
While growing as a person and forgetting the hatred I had for my wonderful life, I started to pay attention to the kinds of love that I had emitted, but not ever recieved.
There's where I woke.
I was born to live for myself. I now do things that only make me happy. If after a while it gets lonely to earn one ticket prizes to Bali or Paris, I remember that I must love everyone. And here is when it gets tricky.
Love is not something that you send or recieve. Love is not kissing, hugging, helping. Love is understanding. And I now understand that I express my love by not interacting with those I care about.
It is the life that I have the luck to live. | 2015-10-17T11:22:37 | 2015-10-17T10:39:25 | 36 | 21 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years. | I didn't expect to close my eyes in one moment only to open them the next and be escorted down a fiery flight of stairs to Hell. I thought I'd led a pretty good life. Never had a run in with police nor did I ever treat someone with less respect than they deserved. I was honestly quite surprised to be taken to Hell, but I guess I had some repenting to do.
I took my place in the queue behind a young man who looked quite complacent here.
"What do you think they're punishing you for?"
"Infidelity" He said matter-of-fact turning to face me, the bullet hole in his head glistening red.
He walked up to a demon who printed off a piece of paper that revealed his sentence.
"145 years? That's...not so bad"
A wave of excitement washed over me. If he only got 145 years to repent then surely I'll have much less!
With a pep in my step I walked up to the demon. It barely glanced at me before printing my ticket of sins and shoo-ing me away.
I took one step out of the queue and gazed at the number. I was horrified.
"No no this CAN'T be right?! 186,292 years?! I did great things for people! Brilliant things! I was a bloody lawyer!!" | Why?, I ask in disbelief I tithed I went to church I was a faithful husband. What did I do? Saint Peter looks deep into my eyes with morose and disgust, “ It is not what you have done but what you failed to do...” I rack my mind trying to figure out what it was and finally it dawns on me. All this time for a Fucking Facebook post!!!! | 2018-09-26T06:12:57 | 2018-09-26T03:51:49 | 881 | 123 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | I sat in the back of the classroom, staring at her.
What the hell was going on? Was I losing it?
I looked around the room. No, everything was normal. A bunch of 3s, a few fours, and Mark, a six (I stay away from him).
Then there's this girl.
I had heard all about her. She was new in town, apparently her parents were big shot researchers who just finished some 5-year research project in Brazil. No, Peru. It was somewhere exotic.
According to my buddy Jon, she was smart, funny, and "Holy Shit, dude, sooo fine!"
My first time actually seeing her was 7 minutes ago when she transferred into 5th period World History.
Ten
She was a ten.
Not a, "Bro, she's a straight 10 outta 10."
A ten on my scale means...shit, you know what? I don't even know what that means.
The highest I have ever seen in my life was an 8 when my criminology class took a trip to the ACI.
This girl scored 2 points higher than a gang enforcer that got off on crushing skulls.
I always wondered what I would do in a situation like this. Would I try to warn people? How would I ever explain to them what I see?
When it came down to it, I ran. Well, I went down to the nurses office and told her that I had bought the school lunch that day (while kinda motioning down below).
I laid awake all night, going over it in my head. What did it mean? What do I do?
I stayed home the next day, checking the news feeds. No shootings at my school, nothing weird at all going on.
I creeped her facebook, her twitter. Nothing stood out. A completely normal 17 year old girl.
Day 3, I told my buddy Jon that he should skip school, but when I couldn't give him a realistic reason to, I dropped it.
I just sat at home, thinking that I should be doing something, anything.
Ten. A freaking ten.
What the fuck! How could this girl be a fucking 10?!
I got my answer when the CDC rolled into town.
| My own number always bothered me. A 1, seriously? Luckily nobody else sees numbers or they would think I was nothing but a big laugh.
And I couldn't use another reason to be laughed at, you know. Being in high school is already torture enough, and I'm being bullied enough as it is.
Normally the day starts off getting yelled at by this awfully charismatic young man who believes he's tough. He's a 2. Yes, more dangerous than I am, true, but his sweet bimbo girlfriend is a 5. He doesn't bother me too much, the others do. The sixes and the sevens. They bother me.
They just LOVE to yell at me, take my lunch money, lock me in the toiletstall and push me down. You know, classic stuff.
Today, they actually pushed my head in the toilet bowl, 5 of them, ranging from the common 5 to the less common 7.
I nearly drowned in there. I heard hem laughing. I felt their hands on my back, pushing hand pushing.
When I got home I washed my face over the sink and looked at myself in the mirror. Rarely do numbers ever change, but there you go - a solid 10.
Calmly I dried of my face, glancing at my newly achieved number in the mirror.
They've pushed too far this time. See you at school, sevens. | 2014-11-29T15:20:57 | 2014-11-29T14:33:38 | 50 | 19 |
[WP] You are immortal and move to a new city every 10 years to avoid detection. After moving back to Boston 100 years since your last stay, you notice a familiar face. | Boston.
Here I find myself again, strolling down a valley of asphalt, glass, and concrete. I'd been to so many like it in the last few hundred years, but each one had it's own unique personality.
I grumble to myself as I wander, eyeing every "help wanted" sign I pass. Driven once again by the tiresome necessity of finding a new job like every other time I'd moved. Ten years is a long time to some, but often not long enough. I had to leave wherever I lived before I got too tied down, before it got dangerous or people started asking too many questions.
Supermarket? Pshh, not likely. Barber? If there was one thing I didn't want to do all day, it was touch other people's heads. The fire company? Ha! Way too dangerous, I could still get hurt after all, and what's the point of long life just to potentially throw it away on a risky job. Bookstore? Hmmm, always a safe bet, lots to read, nice and quiet...
Ugh. Maybe I should just pull up an online job board, roll some dice and be done with it. It's bad enough having to keep getting to know all new people every time.
I glanced around at the people wandering the street. Pondering for a moment what each of them was about today. What were they each trying to make of their short little lives. One very old woman passing by looked up at me with shockingly green eyes. I froze as the spark made its way through me and erupted a powder keg of a memory buried for nearly a century.
*Smoke. Flames. Heat. Oh so much heat!*
*I crouched low, groggy with sleep, still trying to get my bearings.*
*When had this fire started? How? How did it get so far before waking me up? I have to get out of here! I feel like I'm swimming in syrup. The fire is in my lungs! No. I can't panic. I have to get out of here! It won't end like this!*
*A cry. There's a screaming child. No, I can't help, I have to get out! But... I'll never stop having nightmares about this if I ignore it. There, in the crib! Where are the parents? Oh no, the other room is caved in. I've got to get us out of here. Wow, I've never seen eyes so green...*
"Excuse me ma'am, I just can't help but say, you have such lovely vibrant emerald eyes."
"Oh thank you dearie, you sure know how to bring a smile to a lady."
"I hope you don't mind me saying, you really seem like you've been around quite a long time, but you have such a lively air about you."
"Ha ha, funny you should say that, I've just recently celebrated my 100'th birthday! I am so blessed to have been around here for so long."
"Wow, well it must've been a great 100 years for you then!"
"You might be surprised. I lost my family to a fire before I knew them, I only survived by the kindness of a mysterious stranger. I have endured many hardships. War, heartbreak, and loss. But, I never would have gotten to experience any of that if I had perished with my family. Nor would I have had the chance to cherish all the goodness and love that I now have in my life. That stranger inspired me to give everything I could to help those with nothing. It's all been worth it, just to brighten up the lives of those I meet, even if just for a little while."
She looked up at me with a smile of deep joy. "Ah well, you youngsters have better things to do than listen to an old woman ramble on about the good ole days. I best keep up my walk before these old joints freeze up."
For a moment, I simply stare as she slowly but surely makes her way past me and down the sidewalk with that friendly smile and still confident step. "Wait up! Maybe I don't have anything better to do than listen to some ramblings on a nice stroll about town."
"Oh, well that would be lovely."
As we walk, I can't help but marvel at the sheer chance of it all. You know, maybe I will try out that fire fighting job. After all, what's the point of living a long time without giving some of that life to others? | I stepped into Lyndell's and closed my umbrella, shaking stray drops of rain off the tip and into a waiting bucket. The air was warm and full of sugar and dough, and I could see someone pouring melted chocolate over doughnuts at the back of the shop.
I eyed off the display cabinet as I moved closer to the front counter. There were still four half-moons left, with any luck they'd all still be there by the time i got to order. They still had a photo of Birger on the wall, next to the Klemm brothers. The girl at the counter called out and I stepped forward.
"Four half-moons, please"
"Sorry sir, we just sold the last four online. We have chocolate-glazed doughnuts for half-price today though?"
UberEATS again. Worse than social media, that one. I tried not to let my disappointment show too much, I'd just rented a place around the corner, I'd be back plenty.
"Any Cheesecake?"
"By the slice or the whole?"
"Two slices, please."
A group entered, it had stopped raining. I walked down broadway. As usual, so much had changed. I took a bite of the cheesecake as I turned down Cedar and headed towards a park. It was creamy and sweet. A car horn pulled me out of my reverie and a policeman glared at me over his wheel. I smiled. Some things hadn't.
I watched children playing, their parents running after them. It was a nice day, plenty of families about. A large group was gathered around a table, with what looked like the entire extended family of a young girl around six. She had just blown out the candles on a large sheet cake, her black curls hung over bright eyes and an even brighter smile.
The children disappeared with the cake, and I realised I had been staring when my eyes met those of an old woman in a wheelchair. She looked liked an old flame of mine. Her eyes turned dark and she beckoned to one of her relatives. I straightened up in the chair as she was wheeled over.
"Can I help you, ma'am?"
"Your name George?"
I stiffened.
"Go back to your mother, Destiny," the woman harrumphed "I'll call you over when I'm done."
The girl rolled her eyes as she turned to walk away.
"I know who you are," she said, in a deep, low voice. "My mother told me you'd be back."
I thought back to the last time I had been in Boston. There was only one, and there was no way she was still alive. "I'm sorry, have we met?" I asked, trying not to sound condescending.
"No, Mr. Latimer, we have not. You knew my mother, well enough."
"Rebecca? She was a lovely, charming woman."
"She was." She was still glaring at me, but her face had softened a little. Just like her mother.
A pang of guilt crept in. I hadn't left Rebecca in the best way, but I had been found.
"I'm sorry, have I done something to offend, I didn't mean to-"
"Didn't she tell you?" The woman interrupted. She sounded disappointed.
"Listen, I know she was poorly when I left but I had no say in the matter, it was -"
She hushed me. "She was poorly, but she came good" she sighed and pointed to the thirty-odd people gathered around the table "Thems' your grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren."
My eyes widened as the truth dawned on me.
And then it started to rain again.
| 2017-10-14T23:56:42 | 2017-10-14T23:47:52 | 473 | 135 |
[WP] Earth has a god like other inhabited planets but unlike others our god is lazy and rarely shows up. But this gave us the advantage of self-reliance. When alien invaders came knocking it was very evident how significant that advantage was. | Entering the atmosphere of the famous blue planet, the invading armada from Planet Yvernas led by their god Ayve closed in. Cladded in his golden regal armor, the deity turned back to his army, raised his spear, and addressed his men.
"My loyal subjects! My children, sons of Yvernas! Today is the day the promised victory will be delivered!", his booming voice echoed through every vessel carrying soldiers of Yvernas-- each glowed gold of the deity's power, giving them their extraordinary capability of traversing through the stars.
A loud and resounding cheer answered Ayve's proclamation.
"For many years your planet has suffered, your people prayed for salvation! Yvernas, I heard your prayers! And this is my answer!", Ayve pointed down at the planet. "Within this planet is what you need! Resources beyond your wildest imagination! Plentiful! Bountiful! All for the taking, all for your taking!"
More cheers came from the soldiers, along with loud clanging of metal, of swords against shield, all glowed gold of Ayve's divine power.
"Follow me and you shall claim your victory! Yvernas! TO WAR!"
Shouting his last words, Ayve dashed his vessel down onto the planet followed by thousands other vessels-- the invasion had begun.
The unassuming planet had never seen such spectacle. Its usually blue sky were clouded black, terrifying war cries deafened the ears. So sure of their victory these soldiers of Yvernas were, no mention of strategy was ever brought up, a sign of great faith towards Ayve.
The god led the charge closer and closer to the ground. What welcomed him and his men was nothing like they had ever seen. Contraptions of metals, flying war machines, explosive cylindrical arrows-- humanity's modern warfare, ungodly inventions concocted by centuries of battles.
"O GOD AYVE, HELP! HELP! HE...!", the screaming started, echoing inside the god's head as the soldiers prayed before their demise.
One by one their voices went mute, taken away by horrifying sound of explosions.
"Ne--never cower, men! Come...come with me!", God Ayve remained optimistic but alas his army was easily taken down.
"Wh--what is this? Yahweh, you bastard! What sort of trickery did you pull with these humans of yours?!", Ayve cursed his Earthly counterpart.
To his shock, a missile had been deployed straight to his vessel. Unbeknownst to him, having a vessel bigger than his soldiers' was a huge mistake as the humans easily deduced which of the invading ships was the leader's.
"NO, NO, NO...!", Ayve shouted in despair, but he was too slow to react.
Like fireworks Ayve's ship blew up to pieces, taking the god down along with it.
"O GOD AYVE! HELP! HELP!", the soldiers kept yelling their desperate prayer only for no one to answer them.
The Yvernas glowing vessels instantly went dark, losing their power as their god perished. The remaining vessels fell from the sky to the blue ocean below, marking the utter defeat of the Yvernas.
Loud cheers came from the ground and all over the world as the humans rejoiced in their complete victory. The Earth was in peril and due to the combined effort and experience of its inhabitants, they managed to defend it.
In the midst of the celebration, up in the sky where the Yvernas armada descended a bright light appeared as if the sky opened. All eyes on the planet were fixed onto the phenomena, be it in real life or through their televisions.
A figure of an elder dressed in white bathrobe and sandals appeared as the light dimmed. Floating in his chariot of wood he looked around, seemingly expecting something...or someone.
"Ayve? You called? What's up?", he called out only to get no answer. Shrugging, he turned to his people. His booming voice could be heard in the minds of every humans at that moment.
"Hey guys, what did I miss?"
r/HangryWritey | The aliens have observed us for years waiting to see our God but he didn't appear so that sent floods and disease to force their action but nothing.
The aliens made jokes and plan for us here on earth assuming our God is dead or we never had one. The plotted our demise while in prayer to there god who was always with them guiding them and helping them. Keeping them weak!
When they invaded they did so via prayer, the would land in craft they shouldn't be able to travel in space and when they landed they prayed to their god to hurt us. They expected us to flee or to be scared, they thought that the divine would protect them, they thought if we fought it would be like them in prayer to the god who would do the attacks.
After the first craft landed and word spread over the world not via prayer but by light and waves, we fought back missiles destroying their craft before they could touch the ground, gunfire killing these creatures just sitting their praying. Their god was doing his best to help his helpless people who didn't even know to retreat without the gods instructions.
But their god couldn't be every where couldn't stop all the bullets, as their minions fell by the thousands their god weakened and could do less and this repeated until it couldn't make the spaceships fly and the just vented to space. When all where killed the god was weaker then a baby.
That's when our God Gaia appeared to them. Gaia stood their looking at them like one would to a dying animal with pity and sorrow for what had to be done. The other god begun to speak, "What blessing have you given these creatures?" Still shocked by his loss. Gaia sat upon the air itself as if it was a chair, "I gave them nothing and I haven't for a long time, quite the opposite I challenge them constantly I send stronger storms every year, with hold the rain for a decade, send floods that cover countries and they grow stronger as a result. They have become self sufficient" Gaia smiled as she talked showing her pride in the creatures of this planet.
The other god sat there, their mind racing over what he had heard. "You kill them?" They asked in a state of shock. Gaia laughs and looks upon him and sighs, "Oh sweetie you don't understand, I don't not kill them" Gaia appearance grew darker and red "I slaughter them by the millions, sometimes in the billions. I turn there forests into deserts and there water to poison" Gaia calms down and her green and blue glow came back.
The other God just sat there on the ground in a state of pure horror have never heard of any God behaving like this. They finally spoke and when they did their very words dripped with repulsion and disquisition "You are deplorable you do not deserve to be a God". Gaia glowed a nearly blinding dark red light and laughed, as the ring if fire erupted spewing forth ash and lava and nearly extincting the creatures but they changed how they built and how they lived and within 300 years had recovered and grew stronger.
The other God finally begun to understand Gaia and there plans but it was too late for now Gaia was devouring them. | 2021-04-12T04:10:17 | 2021-04-12T03:05:19 | 164 | 53 |
[WP]You have an uncanny knack of finding things. Time travelers, genuine demons, angels, supernatural beings, and now your newest find, Death and Life having a friendly chat in the woods. They were expecting you. | They were just sitting there, in the clearing. A young girl, barely in her teens, and an thin, frail looking old man, with a beard that extended down to his chest. An odd pair to be seen chatting any day of the week, but here, in the middle of a forest?
Years of running into the most unbelievable things had taught me, when something looks weird, it probably is. So I was in no rush to approach them and give away my presence, I quietly crept forward and listened. They seemed to be idly chatting, as if they were waiting for something that was running just slightly behind schedule.
"Sitting on this dead tree is so depressing" said the girl. As she flicked a fallen acorn from it's surface. It landed in a thicket of nearby grass, and from that grass patch, up sprouted a fully formed sapling, as though it were spring-loaded beneath the dirt.
"There!" she said, smiling "It never would have grown up here. Now you have a shot, little buddy."
The old man looked at the sapling, then chuckled and shook his head. "Your zeal for your job is the only reason I'm still in business, I suppose." He looked back toward the girl and said, with true concern in his voice "But if we don't find him soon, you know this all comes undone. We can be as complementary and as well paired as we like, but without him to hold it all together, what are we even doing?"
"I know." she sighed. "But he'll come back, he always does."
The old man considered the thought for a moment. "Yes, but what if he doesn't come back IN TIME. I understand that he needs these sabbaticals, but this doesn't all run itself" He protested, as he spread his spindly arms out and indicated in all direction.
"You're right, it doesn't." She replied, "And he knows that. But think about what you just said, and realize what that means for this difficulty of his position."
She gestured toward the newly formed tree. "I build the things he needs, and you take them away once they've served their purpose. But have you ever tried to figure out what that purpose might be, or what it takes to move all the pieces into the right places?" Her eyes widened and she shook her head as she looked at the ground "It is SO much."
This time, he was the one that sighed. "Which is why it worries me so much when he is gone." As his friend looked up at his he said. "We can't keep this up without him, and you know what that means."
With reserved, and almost defeated body language, the girl said something under her breath that I couldn't quite make out. I leaned forward and cranked my ear closer, only to immediately regret it.
The branch I was leaning my weight against snapped, and I tumbled into their line of sight with enough noise to alert half the forest to my presence. I shot to my feet, and was about to run for it, when I made eye contact with them.
The old man looked at me in silence. My blood ran cold as he fixed me with his gaze. It was as though he could see into my soul, and knew exactly who I was. I felt an inescapable dread, but not fear, and a pull toward acceptance. It was like coming to terms with the inevitable.
Then I looked at the girl. A grin spread across her face as she ran the distance between us in the grass, flowers blooming instantly wherever her feet touched the ground. At a full run, she slammed into me, wrapping her arms around my chest.
"Fate! We're so glade you're back!" | I tracked the deer around 600 metres into the thicket, trees towered overhead. I crouched down in the shrubbery and watched the deer intently. My mind was focused and my bow was drawn. I had its head in my sights and was ready to release my arrow until it wandered over to two unusual figures. One was wooden and bark covered in appearance with fungi growing from various places across his body. The other seemed more like the lack of a person rather than an actual person. It was like the light, and the life of the area was just sucked up and imprisoned by his figure.
"come boy have a seat" said the wooden and fungal being. The darkness just turned to face me. I couldn't really look at him.... it... properly. My eyes began to hurt so I concentrated on the wooden guy more than anything, but...the darkness stared. It stared into me, not at me, like it had put me on trial and was ruthlessly tearing apart my persona in the witness box. Just with a glance. I timidly Rose to my feet.
" urm... Me?" I questioned and glanced around.
"Yes you!" the bark covered creature barked.
"I mean you no trouble" I said in an attempt to defuse my own worries of the situation.
"I know boy" said the wooden man "Come... Sit... I have a task for you" so I carefully dragged myself out of the thicket. The deer I was tracking quickly scarpered into the wood. "come on boy... Don't be shy" said the wooden man. I sat down on the log next to him. "now listen here. I am your creator, I breath life into everything living and I have a task for you. THIS is death, the reaper or the void your choice but he is the opposite of me, now you need to decide who is the kindest out of us two. If your answer pleases us you live forever, if it doesn't you go with death, choose wisely" he said.
I sat and semi stared at the two. I mean if life and death had face's they would look like these two so I bought their story. Death looked more like death than I imagined even Satan would, he looked like what would happen if good took life, and turned it inside out.
"okay, okay" I said as I began pacing and thinking. "so... Life gives us life, from the darkness we are plucked and into the light we are born" I thought out loud "but when we are alive we can sin" I said gaining confidence "however no matter what sins we commit, when death comes, everything, including sin, comes to an end. In conclusion, death is the kindest" I preached with conviction.
The tree man looked at the darkness, the darkness turned to face him an then in an instant leot towards me, all went black. | 2020-07-11T16:38:26 | 2020-07-11T16:15:10 | 90 | 22 |
[WP] People inherit the best qualities of the people they've killed, but murder is still illegal. You, a born paraplegic, wake up, feeling better than ever before, able to do things you were never able to do, and people are noticing. You don't remember last night.
side note, i had a dream i posted this writing prompt and onision took it seriously and tried to kill me in an ikea
edit: i said "word prompt" but i meant "writing prompt". i'm sleepy. | I can't say that my friends haven't warned me. But then again, they still encouraged me to drink with them and they sure as hell didn't try and stop me at any point. For the life of me, I can't remember how much I've had; In fact, I can't remember much of anything of last night, but I've got the biggest head ache to remind me that I've probably had too much. Strangely, despite the head ache, I'm feeling great. Perhaps it's distracting me from the usual pain.
As a paraplegic, I can't ever walk straight, so you'd think getting drunk is a less of a big deal, but this is the first time I've ever experienced this. A strange tingling sensation runs throughout my entire body as I'm waking up. I've never felt this way before in my life. It's weird.
Even weirder is that I find myself on the bathroom floor, next to my wheelchair. The floor around me seems clean, but a foul smell hangs in the air.
I'm still wearing yesterday's clothes. Stone washed jeans and a white sweater, even a new pair of Nike's on my feet. Clara had picked them out for me before we went out. It always meant so much to her that we spend nights out with friends as if I were just a regular guy. But yesterday was different: she was more insistent, more emotional than usual. I was all too glad to go along. It was good to see her happy every once in a while.
"Clara! Clara?" I yell as I pull myself towards the wheelchair. I can manage to climb it on my own, but it's so much easier with her help. Sadly I receive no response.
Being bogged down with a major head ache after just waking up, this isn't the most gracious attempt at climbing my chair. To make matters worse, when I almost manage to get on top, I accidentally let my grip on the breaks slide, and the entire thing rolls back away from me. I barely manage to prevent myself from falling to the floor by lifting myself into a squatting position.
I suddenly find myself looking at the world from an entirely new perspective. My knees can hold my weight! Emboldened, I try to stand up; I immediately turn to the mirror and see myself staring back, standing up straight. Tears roll down my cheeks as I touch the mirror, then bend down and touch my knees.
I pinch myself in the arm just to check if I am dreaming, but I can feel it. Then I press on my left leg, and I can sense it. Then I hold my right foot, and I can believe it. The smile on my face grows so wide that for a split second I worry it might rip a tear into my face.
Carefully at first, I walk out of the bathroom and into the hall. Then, after a few steps, I start running, all the way through the hallway to the front door, and outside.
I can sense the grass tickle my feet; the most blissful feeling I've ever felt. With the morning sun heating my face, I allow myself to take it in. I feel liberated.
The neighbours stare at me in awe for a moment before returning to their gossip, still keeping an eye on me. They have the deepest distrust in their eyes, but I don't care. I feel happier than ever, and I want nothing more than to share this moment with the love of my life, so I run back inside.
"Clara! Clara, where are you?
Clara, the most wonderful thing has happened!"
Still running, I go all around the house, briefly glancing into every room, but I find no trace of Clara before I get back to the bathroom.
From outside, I hear police sirens. The alarm sound echoes through the bathroom as I discover the source of the stench I smelled earlier and time slows down.
The bath is filled almost to the brim. In it, she lies gracefully. Her brown hair is spread out wide across the surface of the water, her beautiful eyes just beneath the surface, gazing at the ceiling. Her right arm balances on the edge of the bath and the tops of her soft fingers are charred.
The moment I see the hairdryer floating above her body, I turn away. My stomach's turning and I can feel last night's liquor come up in my throat.
Vaguely, I can hear a loud noise downstairs as the police are knocking on my door when my gaze meets a note on the floor. I collapse as I recognise her hand writing.
*Dear Eric,*
*Please take my health, as it is the only way I can give you happiness. I hope that with it, you can be happy for the both of us.*
*I also hope that you will be able to forgive me for travelling the only path I saw fit to escape my own demons.*
*The last of my love,*
*Clara* | I woke up to the smell of sweat and alcohol and checked the alarm clock. 10:00 AM. I'd really slept in. But I felt better than I had in a while. I stretched my arms, stretched my legs, and looked around for my wheelchair. Wait. Something was wrong. A lot of things were wrong. This was a hotel room. I didn't have my wheelchair. And I could stretch my legs, despite them being paralyzed since birth.
The world spun as I realized I couldn't remember last night. Had I really killed someone? Something else was in the air. The smell of iron. I ambled shakily to the closet and flung it open, recoiling at the sight of a figure wrapped in a blood-stained sheet. Shit. This was bad. I slammed it shut and ran towards the door, banging my knee on the corner of the bed. It hurt! I would've been excited, if I hadn't just killed someone.
People gave me strange looks as I strode down the hallway in a half-walk, half bounce. It was quick, but effective. Thankfully none of them knew me. "Excuse me, sir?" One of the hotel staff shouted at me. I sped up, making a beeline for the elevator.
"Sir?" He gave chase. Shit, he was fast. The elevator wouldn't make it in time. I'd have to take the stairs.
I flung open the door to the stairwell with a grunt that echoed down the thousands of steps. The wall next to me read "Floor 15". I grabbed the handrail and sidestepped my way down, one step at a time. The door flung open again.
"Sir!" The employee had finally caught up to me, panting and out of breath. I stared up at him with eyes of fear. "I believe you dropped your wallet."
He held out a brown leather wallet in his hand. Was this a test? My wallet was black. I stared at him, clinging to the side of the concrete stairs, eyes as wide as saucers, and slowly reached a hand out to take it. "Thank you." I replied with a voice so shaky and low I didn't recognize it.
He shook his head and headed back to work, muttering something about damned crackheads. I stared at the endless expanse of concrete steps and headed back towards the elevator after little debilitation.
Something still didn't make sense to me. Murderers inherit the best qualities of a person. What person's best quality was their legs? Did I just kill Usain Bolt? Or a male underwear model? No matter how I saw it, it would've been an extraordinary set of circumstances to be in.
The elevator door opened and a few cops stepped out. I fell back against the wall as one of them approached me. "Excuse me, sir. We have reason to believe a murder occurred here last night. Were you here? Did you hear anything?"
I sighed. I couldn't run forever. It was time to come clean. "I can't remember last night. But I was a paraplegic my entire life. And when I woke up this morning, I could walk. It was probably me."
The cop stared at me, dumbfounded. "Wait, aren't you-" He handcuffed me and gestured his partner over.
"I think we've got him. I think this is the guy." He seemed excited.
"The serial killer?" His partner scrutinized me. "Yeah, he does fit the profile. Well, congratulations, sir. You've unwittingly assisted in the capture of one of the most dangerous criminals in the east coast."
"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, as they led me into the elevator. But it all made sense when I stared in the big mirror. And a face that wasn't mine stared back.
_______________________________________________
[more](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/) | 2017-09-01T11:50:35 | 2017-09-01T11:32:19 | 34 | 21 |
[WP] A cure for sleep has been found, by taking a cheap pill people no longer need to sleep. You opted to continue sleeping and now 1 year after the release of this pill you notice that people are starting to act oddly. | It all started with the new miracle Pill. It apparently helped trick your body into thinking it had had it's regenerative sleep, fooling your brain into thinking that it went into the various sleep cycles, releasing all the various hormones and immune cells that you usually benefit from having a good night sleep. At first, it was herald as a miracle drug. Technology advances were made by bounds as scientist and inventors were able to work around the clock. No more losing track of your thought process, no more trying to remember that fugue idea... no more writing something on paper the night before only to wake up in the morning wondering what the fuck did I mean by " Less coffee will clear the mind of the web that weave in the wind of the storm?"
But, I couldn't do it. I loved sleeping, way to much. I loved that feeling of getting in bed, and the sheets are cool, wrapping you in a nice chilled cocoon, and feeling all your muscles relax as you drift to sleep. I couldn't wait for that moment where I started dreaming, dreaming of worlds that never existed, beauties beyond belief, all powered by my sub-conscious. I loved that feeling when I woke up in the morning to a bright sunny day, pot of fresh coffee brewing, filling the house with the rich aroma of Blue Mountain fresh roasts.
I enjoyed that first sip, as went and sat outside on the patio, enjoying the sounds that the birds made at sunrise.
Yes, I loved sleeping. After spending time with my family, it was second favorite part of the day.
So, as time went on, society went on, living 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Never taking time to rest and close their eyes. It was not expected for someone to work 20 hours day. Quickly, companies and government around the world realized that it was not financially responsible to expect people to do that, as companies would go bankrupt. Instead, work could be done at anytime, as long as you managed to provide 8 hours of work within 24 hours, you achieved your objectives. Social media sites saw an exponential growth in usage, so much so that post were now being limited by accounts. You were only allowed 100 posts a day on each platform. Yes, new platforms were being created, because people "needed" to share what they were doing every minute of their day, but none really gained enough momentum to challenge the lead ones.
New discoveries, advances were made on a weekly basis. NASA had built their new Ion Propulsion engine in 2 months instead of 2 years, and they were getting ready to test it. Cancer research had reached an all time high in progress and some very promising leads were discovered that started to give hope to everyone. Things that were only dreams and concepts were becoming reality. Gone were the days of pen to paper. They were now pen to reality.
Or so it seemed.
It was just assumed that everyone in the world were now taking those pills every day. Talking about sleep was becoming taboo, if not "verbotten" and became less and less socially acceptable.
There were some downside to the economy: hotels in major metropolitan or touristic areas began to close and were replaced with shower services instead. Of course, the bedroom industry died the next day that the pills became a common item in the household and not a trend. But, that's to be expected. Then, the arts started to die. Books, video games, music, movies all gradually stopped being produced. No one knew why.
I started noticing it when the release date of Half-Life 3 was pushed back by a month, at first, due to challenges in the studio. Then the New Avengers movie was put on hold.
After that, the HyperLoop was postponed indefinitely and the Space X project was cancelled. No one knew why.
It took me about a year to figure it out. But by then, it was too late.
Turns out, like anything else with our body, we created a tolerance to those pills. And while they still did what they were supposed to do, counter sleep, the beneficial effects of sleep were no longer there.
Necessity wasn't the mother of invention after all; dreaming was.
====
Enjoy... CC welcome | I hadn't slept well for the past few months. Not well at all. Foxes, you see, had moved into the neighbourhood and were no doubt rummaging through the trash cans in the alley below my apartment, during the nights. I know this because of the terrible howling that keeps me awake at night. I've been told it's only their mating call, but God help me, it sounds like a child screaming.
I often wonder how the *Wakers* fare during the night, walking around with all the foxes out there. Recently I had been rethinking my stance on *WakeUp*, the incredibly popular drug that eradicates the need for sleep. I mean, I've not been sleeping well anyway, so why am I bothering to try? But no, I can't. I like sleep. It's natural and healthy and I just don't buy into *WakeUp* and its insomniac giving properties. People used to call insomnia a curse. I was one of very few people in the city that wasn't a Waker. I felt they resented me for it.
That night, the night it started, was incredibly humid and even with my fan on I had little choice but to keep my bedroom window wide open. The constant hum of my little table fan soon helped me drift off.
I awoke to screaming and a pounding heart. I tried to reassure myself - that it was just the foxes. My room was pitch black and I knocked over a glass of water as I fumbled in the darkness for the switch of the table lamp. "Damn." I yelled out loud. It was reassuring hearing a voice, even though it was my own.
I clicked the light on and the room swelled up in a dim yellow light. I slipped out of bed and headed to the window. It was still humid, but I couldn't sleep with the howling.
As I pulled back the curtain, an unusual bright light forced me to squint. It was a full moon, ripe as a peach and as bright a winter sun. I suppose my eyes just weren't well adjusted, and the normal light of the moon only *appeared* incredibly vivid to me. As I leaned forward to close the window I happened to look down on the street below, and I saw an unusual sight.
The pale moonlight bathed the street below in a strange white light. On the street and staring straight up at **me** were about a hundred Wakers. They didn't move, they just... *stared*.
After a few short moments my curiosity helped pull off the blanket of intimidation that had become wrapped around me.
"He-hello?" I yelled out of the open window. Nothing. No response, just that unnerving *staring*.
"HELLO!" I yelled again.
A Waker at the front of the pack put his hands to his mouth and howled. Howled like the foxes. As the other Wakers took up the cry, I quickly realised there never had been foxes. I shivered as the Wakers began to move. They began to walk to the front door of my apartment building. I could hear them as they shoulder-barged against it. I heard the dull *thump thump thump* through the bloodcurdling screams.
I had to get out.
---
Thanks for reading. More of my WP responses on /r/nickofnight
| 2016-08-30T09:04:18 | 2016-08-30T07:55:48 | 475 | 320 |
[WP] You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego..
[removed] | I approached the gated community in a blue Toyota Rav 4. I chose the vehicle because their were three others like it in this pleasant area. It was full of the type of people who bought colorful Toyotas. I parked on the opposite side of the street from the lilac house. It was debateably hideous, but I thought I could see what Mavis was going for.
A knock on my window startled me from my thoughts. I swiveled to see a smiling girl wearing a "save the whales" t-shirt.
"Oh, shit."
Mavis smashed a fist through my window and threw me onto her neighbor's neatly kept lawn. I stumbled to my feet, nearly falling back down. "Want to know how I found you?"
Her golden hair blinded me as she tackled me back to the floor. I shook my head to get her hair off my face. She fixed her eyes on mine with drawn in brows.
"Oh noo," I opened my mouth in cartoonish bewilderment. She dragged her eyes down past my suit and onto the short dagger jutting from her stomach. I yanked it out despite the fact that my suit would be ruined.
Blood explanded and dripped from the whale on her shirt, creeping across the sunny beach scene. "Got a bit cocky." I shoved her off of me.
She gasped when she landed flat on her back.
"I won't make you suffer, love."
She fixed me with a glassy stare and fruitlessly moved her lips in a silent message. I cradled her head. "Relax, it's okay. It's okay."
Snap.
I stood shakily and made unfortunate eye contact with an old women clutching a mug to her chest.
I held up my blood coated hands. "We're just having a chat." | The fire crackled and popped, illuminating the entrance of my lair. They broke in all at once. Half a dozen heroes, none of which it seemed knowing how to use the door, might I add, stood before me.
“It’s over Mania, the jig is up,” their leader, Captain Heronius stated.
I could care less. If they want to invade and defeat my army, they are more than welcome to try.
They could actually win too, if they actually cared enough to study the enemy.
It only would have taken minutes to have realized that I am never one to appear without a plan, but they just can’t handle the fact that the villain they face is competent.
But, at the very least, they learned that bullets can pierce even the most powered flesh.
Second prompt, feedback welcome
-Sky | 2019-08-06T18:28:40 | 2019-08-06T16:11:22 | 69 | 41 |
[WP] One day in class you decide to scream something in your head to catch mind readers. As you do, you see your crush flinch | (slightly NSFW)
 
It's a Monday.
It's 7am and I haven't been awake for more than 30 minutes so I can barely remember the name of the professor monologuing at the front of the classroom, much less what subject we're supposed to be studying.
I think it's appropriate to say that my mind is nowhere near a fully functional state. My head's probably drifting off somewhere in space two universes over.
I can barely keep my eyes open more than twenty seconds at a time, and if I were more awake I would swear to you that every third blink I took was slower.
Something in the back of my head is desperately trying to keep me from keeling over in my drowsy stupor and face planting into the back of the seat in front of me, so I desperately search the crowd of heads in front of me for something- **anything**- interesting.
A glimpse of a familiar light golden brown catches the edge of my vision, and my eyes immediately lock onto a wig of somewhat orderly bed head two rows down from me.
The hair belongs to Iralynn, a... I guess the best description would be an acquaintance. I've known her since my sophomore year in high school. We've talked before, even participated together in a few group projects back then, but I've never really spent a lot of time with her.
We know of each other, but I don't think either of us would deem the relationship between us an actual friendship.
Which is why it seems really weird to me that I would develop a crush on her.
It started half way through my senior year when I, for some reason I can never place to this day, decide to myself that she was objectively cute.
It wasn't really an attraction at the time, it was more like how one would say a puppy was adorable or a flower was pretty. But whatever the original thought was, it quickly developed into something more.
I saw that she was caring and kind to her friends. In projects she was always ready to step up to the plate for any responsibilities that might come her way. She was hard working but also easygoing. In group conversations in noticed she was incredibly animated, yet somehow sensitive to the emotions around her.
But I never approached her, even after learning that we had gone to the same college. It was mostly out of a sense of insecurity.
I mean, I was an Asian boy and she was a Caucasian girl. Granted she was a quarter Brazilian and an eighth Egyptian, but that's kind of splitting hairs at this point.
And I know that it shouldn't matter what race she or I was, but growing up under the preconception that Asian boys don't get the White girls and living in an all-Asian community that seemed to reflect that left some pretty deeply rooted insecurities.
It didn't help that she had an incredible figure. I mean, what else could you expect from someone who was our school cheer leading captain who also somehow made it onto our volleyball varsity team as well.
There was a day when the cheerleaders had to share the pool with those of us on the swim team, so believe me when I say that I know what her figure looks like.
Hell, she asked me if her suit was too tight! I had to turn around to hide my red cheeks. Of course I said no, but by time I had gotten control of my face and turned around she was gone.
My thoughts of Iralynn and her figure were cut short by a rush of blood to the netherlands.
I flushed red with drowsy embarrassment and shifted uncomfortably in my chair, trying to hide my morning wood. I swear, I'm not normally this volatile. If I'm being honest, I have withering self-confidence issues about my body.
Iralynn moves a bit in her seat, and my sleepy mind panics for a bit. I calm down, and a thought wanders into my head: *"If Iralynn could have read my mind just now, I'd want to die of embarrasment."*
Two rows down, the girl shifts again and I panic for a split second more. Then I laugh under my breath.
*"Mind reading? What a joke,"* I think to myself. I smile and laugh inside as I think over how ridiculous the idea was. I mean, c'mon me. Mind reading is sci-fi stuff. I'm an introvert, and I take solace in knowing that my thoughts are mine alone; private.
Half joking and half mocking myself, in my mind I spontaneously break out into the loudest, most emasculating moan I can muster.
If it was out loud, someone might have probably thought I just pulled myself off.
Iraynn visibly flinches in front of me with an audible intake of air, and everything in my mind just... stops. I'm now fully awake, and my heart is racing inside my chest.
Slowly, to my growing horror, she turns around and our eyes meet. Her face is red, and she's wearing an expression I can't put into words on her face... but the look says it all.
My face takes on a hue to match hers, and we just stare at each other like deer caught in headlights. Everything inside me withers away in our stare.
All my bravado, my dignity, and what little pride I had in myself as a man, just gone.
In it's place, an overwhelming urge to roll up into a ball and die.
 
(I'm thinking of maybe doing a reverse POV.) | *Meh.*
My cheek is starting to feel a bit sore from the fist that keeps it and the rest of my face from meeting my desk. The arm upright beneath is stiff and sleeping, like a corpse, or half the people in my class. My bored eyes bore into the board ahead - *bored*.
*So fuckin' bored.*
On my other hand, my fingers dance, idly tapping here and there across the margin of a mostly blank sheet of notebook paper. I don't even know where my pencil went.
I manage to break my eyes away from the board of nothing, and look around the room. And around me, some students - *some* - seem to actually give a shit. Taking notes. Nodding to themselves. One even asks a question, but there's only one question on my mind, looking at this different species...
*How the fuck...?*
Others with a little more effort than me at least give a shit about looking like they do. Scribbling some shit in their notebooks, or holding a textbook open in front of them. But I can see it in their eyes. They're half a class period away from being me.
And then, of course, the real heroes. The I-don't-give-a-fucks and I'm-too-cools. The too-smarts and too-stupids. The ones in the back, or bordering the window, with their heads splayed in crossed arms on the surface of their desks, or leaning back as they sink further into their seat, melting towards the floor. Some twitch every now and then. Others let out an occasional snore. One dude seems to stir, lifting his head and coming back to life for enough time to spot the clock then drop like a rock. His head bobs up and down every now and again, a boat on slumbering seas.
And, right behind me, hidden underneath half a billion strands of silky, sand-colored hair, Kylie rests easy - her gentle, rhythmic breathing just close enough and loud enough for me to hear.
*...Just me, I bet.*
Kylie was one of the arm-crossers, and definitely one of the I'm-too-smarts. She definitely had a dash or two of I-don't-give-a-fuck, but that never stopped me. I like to think I got a bit of that too.
*...I don't.*
Still, over the past semester I'd managed to develop a little bit of a rapport with Kylie. Not *real* friendship, but definite in-class friends. You know the sort. And that's been enough for me, honestly. She's witty. Makes me laugh. She's smart. Makes me feel stupid. She's great. Makes *me* feel great.
And fuck - even resting like that, her face and body buried in the crossed sleeves and deep black of her casually too-big sweatshirt, she was the prettiest damn girl in the whole fuckin' school. No wonder she dressed the way she did. She didn't even wear leggings or yoga pants or whatever the fuck they're called, like *every* other girl in the school. Just some normal jeans and one of several hoodies. That was it. That was Kylie. She didn't need anything extra.
She was the type of girl who could make your day with a smile, the type who could brighten a whole dark boring classroom with *just* the right quip or gesture or just a damn look. Frankly, she's one of the only reasons I stay awake in the classes we share. She's... also probably my biggest distraction. Win some lose some, I guess. My point is this: Kylie fuckin' rocks. She is everything I want in a girl. Hell, she *is* everything I want.
It was about then I realized my arm wasn't the only thing feeling stiff, and I could *not* blame this new firmness on random chance or hormones or sleeping on it. *Definitely* not the last one. Looking at Kylie, thinking about her, knowing her, I couldn't help it. I'm not ashamed to admit it - I was stiffer than steel, could barely even think through all the horny. But I did.
And, as often happens, lewdness flooded my brain, an overwhelming tidal wave of lust best summarized by the one thought that drove it all, the only real sentence to be fished from all that depravity.
*God I wanna fuck her.*
Kylie lifted her head.
**DISCLAIMER: this is my first WP, I don't do this often or really care about improving my writing. Thanks for reading - and possibly enjoying - if you did. Sorry for not following prompt too strictly.** | 2017-11-13T22:10:35 | 2017-11-13T21:43:25 | 28 | 14 |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | *Whoosh. Swish. Click. Pause.*
The laundromat played it's age-old melody. It was essentially therapy after so many years. Ellie took off her glasses and rested her head on the wall behind her bench.
*Whoosh. Swish. Click. Pause. Brr.*
She imagined she was actually on a plane, descending on some tropical isle and not on a hard bench, in a landromat, at midnight, on a Saturday.
*Whoosh. Swish. Click.*
Jingle.
She frowned, in the middle of stirring a fruity drink in a beach bar. *How rude.*
Someone else had decided they need a retreat to the laundromat on a cold october evening. Ellie paid them no mind, as she tried to doze off again.
"Eyy, Ellie, how you doin'? Didn't you just get a new washer last week?"
Ah, John from two floors down. She straightened up against the wall, just a tiny little bit.
"You know how it is, they don't make them like they used to..."
"Ain't that the truth."
He continued on piling his laundry in a machine, his back to her at the other end of the room.
She opened one eye to spy on him lazily. Without her glasses, however, she was treated to just a vague blur. Not one to ever miss a free show, she quickly put them on and turned to look at him.
*Whoosh. Swish. Click.*
*Whoosh. Swish. Click. Brrr.*
"Uh..."
Her heart was pounding in her ears. But not because of his back, or his legs - or the way his arms flexed like that one time he was fixing his front door (that she definitely did not remember specifically and in detail).
"Yeah?"
Her brain was trying to make sense of the... thing before her. "... You feeling alright this evening, John?"
"Sure, why'd you..." he said, turning around "... ask." It took him a couple of seconds to process the horror on her face. "Oh."
*Whoosh. Swish. Click. Brrr.*
"Are you in a costume of some sort? Are you one of those folks..."
"No! No, I'm not. I mean... Uh.. What folks do you have in mind exactly?"
"You know... the ones that dress like animals and go frolick with each other?"
She took a moment to really look him over. His hair was three times longer (*still so pretty though*) and there was more... other hair, sticking out of his collar and between his trousers and shoes. He looked taller.
"Froli... noo, I'm not one of them. Pleasant bunch, but not my cup of tea."
"Then what... Excuse me, but what the fuck?" She gestured nervously in his general direction.
John sighed deeply and looked all of a sudden dead serious. He took a couple of steps and stood directly in front of her.
Ellie could not be more pressed to the wall behind her if she tried. *Not how I imagined something like this, at all...*
"Elanor. You can't tell anyone about this. About me. Please."
"But, what...? I don't understand anything..."
"Look. My dad took me hunting when I was little. Got bit by a rabid wolf. Now I'm like this every full moon. I'm sorry you had to see this."
Her laundry machine took this moment to end the cycle with a loud *PING*.
Ellie jumped a little. She continued to observe him, speechless at the absurdity of the situation.
"If you tell anybody they will lock me up. I'm not a monster, I don't *eat people*. I don't hunt. I'm not some tv cliche. I don't sparkle. I'm just... terribly inconvinienced once a month."
She was tempted to laugh at the last one, but her mouth got there faster than her brain. "I would never do anything to hurt you, John."
She clamped a hand on her mouth the moment the words left it.
His gaze changed then. He did not need heightened senses to read the situation.
She played it cool. "You know, it's not the werewolves that sparkle..."
"Oh? But we *can* do other things..."
He took a step forward and she did not stop him. | "Hey," I said without thinking.
And I really wasn't thinking either. There was a huge upright dog standing right in front of me. The dog, if that was what it was, breathed huskily. His chest moved massively, his breath sounded ragged and there was a guttural groan on the edge of his breath.
"Hey," the dog said, his voice shaking my bones.
The dog was in the middle of shoving a blue sheet in the top dryer. He looked over at me with a questioning look.
"Can I help you?"
I started to say something but the dog stared at me with such innocent questioning in his large bright yellow eyes. I turned to my laundry and slowly scooped my pungent detergent.
Suddenly, the dog gasped softly. My head snapped over to the dog. He was staring at his hands, a shocked expression on his face. One of his sharp nails had torn straight through a shirt that said *Feed YOUR wild side* with a big Jack Links logo under it. The dog kept staring at his shirt and breathing heavily.
"Do you need some help?" I felt the question come out of my mouth involuntarily.
The dog turned to me and his jaw started quivering. His massive yellow eyes shined slightly with tears, and his hands -- paws, were shaking with emotional intensity. The scraps of his shirt were hanging off his paws morosely.
"This was my favorite shirt," the dog mumbled from behind 3-inch fangs.
I was so confused at this point. Where did the dog come from? Why was he trying to do laundry?
"Where did you come from?" I asked again, wondering where all this brazen curiosity was coming from.
"Oh--" the dog paused like he just finally realized I was there, "-- I'm over in apartment 209."
I was sort of gagged. I mean, this big dog creature was in my laundry room and now he was saying that he lived in my apartment. What was his deal?!
"Ok, dude. You need to tell me what's going on here or I'm gonna call the cops," I said, fed up with his attitude.
He looked mildly affronted and then looked at his hands and arms again.
"I was human this afternoon! I don't know what's going on."
I honestly was so fed up at this point. It's one thing to scare me, another to be so clueless about everything.
"Well if you were human before," I said circling my left hand quickly.
He straightened and nodded quickly.
"And you're a big dog wolf thing now," I continued.
He nodded again, the tatters of his shirt falling to the floor.
"Then you're, like, a werewolf or something," I concluded.
I stared at him for a while. He just looked at me with his jaws open. His big tongue was hanging out slightly and he looked stunned.
"I guess you're right," he said after a second.
My gears turned quickly. I wasn't about to be one of these bumbling idiots in an origin story. I wasn't about to be the side character that screams and takes off, shuddering under a blanket and sipping hot tea. Something in me said, *help this goon and get to work*.
"Well then. Let's get you back to your apartment and figure this out."
I took him by the arm and dragged him over to the door. He panted after me like a good dog, and we left his shirt behind. | 2020-09-29T12:43:39 | 2020-09-29T12:41:33 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] Canada has Started WW3 | “Canada?”
“I’m afraid so, sir.”
“*Canada?*”
“Yes…it appears that way, Mr. President.”
“Canada…as in *the* Canada? The place to the north with all the ‘eh’s’, moose, hockey, flannel and door-holdin…’”
“That’s the one.”
The President took a stride of disbelief around the couches of the oval office, shaking his head.
“Well…why the fuck would they do that?”
“Well, sir, it appears that they…want…more…money.”
“They want more money? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“We’re…we’re not entirely certain, sir. We’ve got our best men on that right now. All we know right now is that they’ve asked for…”
The General cleared his throat.
“…’some of that internet money.’ We’re still not quite sure what that means, sir.”
“Oh, goddammit, they’ve completely lost it. I knew something was off about those folks, always too nice, leaving their doors unlocked and their tight gun laws…It’s always the nice guy in the room that you gotta watch out for.”
"That's not all Mr. President. They want something else..."
"What else?"
"We don't know yet. They took Buffalo earlier this morning, just to show that they were serious. The Vice President is negotiating with the Prime Minister right now. He should be back any minute."
The President sighed. Fucking *Canada!?*
"What are your orders, sir?"
"Regarding..."
"Buffalo."
“It’s Buffalo, General, let them have it. Even people from Buffalo don’t want Buffalo.”
“Roger that, sir. What about —“
The door to the Oval Office busted open, the Vice President came rushing in.
“Ah, there he is. What do you have for me, John?”
He handed the President a piece of paper. A picture of grungy dudes with long hair and too many bracelets, faces pocked with goatees and soul patches. A large X was made across the picture in sharpee. He looked at it for a second, before turning up his eyes quizzically at his Vice President.
“What the hell is this?”
“It appears to be a ransom note, sir.”
“What the hell do they want, then?”
“Well…it seems they only have one condition, sir, and I’m not sure how to tell you this…”
“Out with it, Johnson!”
“It seems…it seems they want us to take Nickelback…into the…United States…indefinitely.”
The President nearly fainted. Hushed gasps circulated around the room as the President’s eyes began to flit back and forth in the search for answers. Leaning himself exasperatedly on the oak desk, he pulled out an official KFC handkerchief, a gift from a friend in the Senate. He dabbed himself vigorously, the sweat beads flying down his the faultlines in his forehead. The pressure was on.
Advisors of all shape and color watched on nervously. The next words uttered out of the President’s mouth would surely change the course of history…forever. Hearts nearly stopped.
The President stood and fixed his blazer. He straightened his tie. He smoothed over his hair.
“General…” he said, looking at the old man in military dress.
“Ready the warheads.” | This is the story of Clarence Martin. Clarence is your average Canadian citizen, except today he is to embark on a not so average, and not so lucky, journey. The story starts with Clarence walking down Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington D.C. about to come upon the White House. This is where a grim scene is about to unfold.
"What a beautiful day!", Clarence exclaimed to himself. The sun was shining and the temperature was beyond perfect. He found himself in perfect bliss as he ignorantly strolled down the sidewalk. If the day had not been so beautiful he might have noticed the manic,dirty homeless man madly ranting about the supposed end of the world, or the group of ravenous pigeons gathered around the old man passing out hardened pieces of old bread, the motorcade coming down the street from behind him, or maybe even the group of eager Chinese tourists gathered taking photos with the White House at their backs, or most importantly, the nervous young man on his cellphone with a very suspicious bag in his hand. Clarence saw nothing but sunshine and rainbows, and he was about to regret that.
As soon as Clarence passed the homeless man, the vagrant sprung from his milk-carton podium and jump on Clarence's back. "We're all fucked!", exclaimed the man. Clarence immediately began recklessly spinning around with the man being the literally monkey on his back. "Putin is going to get killed during his visit today! The CIA planned it all! World War 3 is coming!", screamed the man, just as Clarence finally got the leverage to throw him off his back...and into the group of Chinese tourists.
"Oh my! I'm so sorry" exclaimed Clarence while backing up. "Sorry, Sorry, Sor-" Clarence stammered while simultaneously tripping over the pigeons and falling on the old man."MY LEGS!" screamed the now crippled old man. Clarence jumped off the old man crushing pigeons left and right while screaming "SORRY" at the top of his lungs.
Less than 10 feet away was the young man. "I just can't do it." he said into his phone. He hangs up and begins to put the phone away in his right pocket, when suddenly, Clarence, covered in pigeon blood and screaming, barrels into the young man, forcing his hand to smack into the detonator in his pocket at the exact same time the Russian President Vladmir Putin's motorcade was passing by.
This led to WW3...Clarence was very sorry for all of it.
| 2014-06-08T21:01:54 | 2014-06-08T19:53:07 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] It's a known fact that you are incapable of telling a lie. This has landed you several opportunities, including your current job as Head of Security at one of the largest banks in the world. Except you got bored and decided to rob it all. This is the story of how you got away with it. | Honest John they called me. It wasn't actually my name, but sometimes people latch onto an idea and can't really be persuaded to let it go. I have taken advantage of this little niggling detail of human psyche in the past however, by all the salt in my blood, I guarantee I'm not a lying man.
The robbery happened late Wednesday night. It was a small band of crooks that stole a couple hundred million in bearer bonds, stock certificates, and intellectual property. Portable secrets for the most part, not really traceable once they started to bounce around the darker portions of the world. Funnily enough, it was an all female team of crooks that stole the kit and kaboodle.
Of course I was investigated. Everyone on my security team was, as were all the bank tellers, and everyone up to the president of the bank. When it was my time to sit down I had to be a little blunt with the wet streak of piss investigating me.
I didn't like to start rumors about the young lady I had been spending the evening in question with but I told the detective "Sir, if you're asking me point blank I have to tell you. Little Margaret down there? Curly headed blonde? I was with her on that night. If you ask her hard enough I'm sure she will tell you everything that we did, and by my soul, I am not a lying man but that would mightily embarrass me. By your leave I'll just write her a note saying that it's ok with me if she answers your questions."
> Mag, please answer this gentleman's questions, I already said we were together that night, just don't say anything about our activities that might embarrass yourself or myself. I have his guarantee he won't ask for anything too revealing.
"That meet your standards, detective? I do hope it will help you. By my oath, I'm not a lying man, I do hope these bastards get caught."
And that was roughly it for me. They never caught the thieves, and regrettably that was likely my fault. I learnt long ago that people see what they insist upon seeing. With me they see big, solid, dependable, and (above all) honest John. And I let them see that.
By my soul, I'm not a lying *man* | Seven minutes to close, and I had been sitting staring at the clock for at least twice that time.
Mr. Anferno startled me out of my daze with a half-heard question; "---this evening?".
I snapped my gaze toward him stumbling over my response sluggishly and a bit guiltily as well. "Sorry?" I asked for clarification.
Looking annoyed Anferno repeated himself, "I said, what are your plans for the rest of this evening Mr. Erenclout?"
"Oh! Nothing majorly exciting." I said. It was a good thing he hadn't asked about my plans for the weekend. "I plan to have a bit to eat and study up on some things that have piqued my interest recently." I continued.
Anferno looked satisfied with that. "Sounds like quite the plan you've laid for yourself Erenclout." He remarked smugly. How little he knew of the scale.
Walking to my car after punching out, I thought of the risk I was taking setting this up. Ever since I had cracked my skull seven years ago, and a fragment of bone destroyed the part of my brain able to speak anything but the truth, I had been playing the straight and narrow. I was sick of it. The smiles, the laughs, the infernal small talk. I was going to take this bank for all it was worth, and use that money to go somewhere where it didn't matter if I told the brutal honest truth; my money would lie for me. | 2018-05-03T06:59:38 | 2018-05-03T06:48:53 | 41 | 22 |
[WP] You wake up in a house. It's nice place, with all the comforts of home. However, the front door is cold steel, with a note on it. The note warns you never to leave the house. After years of compliance, you decide to go through the steel door... | I loved that house. That's what I had told myself for 4 1/2 years.
In the fall of 2009, I was laid off from work and within a few months I had lost everything. My apartment, my car, all of my possessions. My bed became concrete and my friends became bottles. After months of homelessness I didn't even want things to get better. I wanted to die.
I had fallen asleep on the sidewalk, same as always, but awoke in a perfect house. I was unsettled, to say the least. My head was spinning with questions when I saw the note stuck on the front door. It was printed in bold lettering "**DO NOT LEAVE THE HOUSE.**" Well, I thought to myself, that will not be an issue.
That is when I noticed the living room and the hair raised on my arms. It was identical to my apartment. All of my stuff was there. My futon, my TV, my movie collection. I remember crying. I wondered if I had died and this was some bizarre form of heaven. I entered the kitchen and sure enough I recognized all of my dishes and appliances, although the layout of it was a little different. I wandered wide-eyed throughout the house, exploring every room. I didn't know what this wonderful place was, but I knew I was going to stay. I was being given a gift.
I was completely content for a long time. There was always food, wine, and video games to keep me busy. No one was missing me from that life I had before, and I didn't really miss anyone either. On the other hand, I'd be lying if I said I didn't spend nights staring at the front door, wondering what lie beyond it. I never felt lonely, but I did become stir crazy. Cabin fever. I longed for a shopping trip, a movie theater, or a simple hike through the woods. After 4 1/2 years, I needed to walk outside. I needed to defy the note on the front door.
I proceeded to make the biggest mistake of my life. I ran to the door and flung it open. The sunlight I had craved for so long washed over me. It felt heavenly. I looked at the brilliant blue sky and watched as it turned bright white. Everything became so bright I closed my eyes and covered my face. My body felt strange. I was tingling and cold. When I opened my eyes, I was sitting in a chair. There was an IV drip in my right arm and there were innumerable wires littering my body. A fan blew on me from the corner.
A voice said "Welcome back, Mr. Williams." I whipped my head around and met eyes with a young looking lab assistant. He handed me a clipboard. "Sign right here and you get your cash on the way out."
That's when my horrible, stupid memory came flooding back to me. I was a homeless loser who responded to an ad in the paper about a psychology experiment. There was no house, there was no new life.
"TAKE ME BACK! I WANT TO GO BACK!" | I stood in front of the steel door. The note told me not to leave, and I had always complied. I’d never even tried the giant knob that looked like a steering wheel that set in the middle of the door.
I’d gone to bed as thirty-seven year old part time temp living in a roach and mouse infested studio apartment with two other men. I’d woken up in a house larger than any I’d ever lived in that had every creature comfort I could ever want. It seemed like something I shouldn’t question.
Was it the drugs?
No. I hadn’t taken any the night before. I’d been clean. I didn’t even drink a beer on the stoop like I did every night.
I didn’t want to question my luck. Maybe I was dead and this was Heaven. Maybe the door led to Hell.
Everything was provided for me. Fresh food in the fridge. Clean towels in the bathroom. Clean sheets on the bed. Even the television shows were new. I never saw a repeat unless I wanted to.
I went through withdrawals. There weren’t any drugs or alcohol in the house, not even in the mouthwash. I’d never been a religious man, but I was pretty sure God didn’t like overindulgence in booze and drugs.
Over a period of a few years I got bored. Not having anyone to talk to grated on me. I started drawing faces on the walls and objects so that I could have something to talk to. My best friends became the actors on the sitcoms I watched.
I started to sit and stare at the metal door and its note. The television blared in the background while I thought about what could be on the other side. Long ago I’d thought it was Hell, but what if it wasn’t?
Pacing the house wore trails in the carpet. I’d had enough. I’d open the door. I couldn’t take being alone anymore.
Hope of another person to talk to won out over anything else.
I gripped the knob with both hands and turned. It spun with almost no resistance. I spun it and spun it for what seemed like minutes until the door latch clicked. As the door started to open I stepped back.
I stepped through the doorway into the void and hoped that at the other side I would find what I desired.
| 2015-03-21T10:59:56 | 2015-03-21T08:52:25 | 30 | 14 |
[WP] Humans are the deadliest, and rarest, species in the known universe. Often, search parties go missing due to a singular encounter with a human ship. It has recently come to light that there is an entire planet full of them. | The humans, as they called themselves, were not mystically incomprehensible. Few things were in a galaxy-spanning civilization. But the fact that they were comprehensible made them all the more frightening, for even with all we knew about them, they were still exceedingly dangerous. Fortunately, they were also very rare, never appearing except in small ships wandering the stars.
To look at them, humans are unremarkable. They’re nothing extraordinary among sentient races in terms of size or strength. In speed, they are actually rather slow and rarely push themselves to their limits. Physically, they’re soft and vulnerable, with most of their vital organs only partially protected, at best. But they have one thing that no other species does. Humans are universally agreed to be the *stubbornest* bastards in the galaxy.
It is said of humans that they will chase their quarry to the end of the universe and back, and if you cross them, they’ll never, *ever* let go of their grudge until they get you back. Their whole biology is attuned to it. A trained human with no cybernetic enhancements can run—not walk, but *run*—for hours on end in hot, humid conditions, and keep going when most other species would have dropped dead of exhaustion. That sounds like an unethical science experiment that discovered that fact, but it’s not. The humans do it for *sport*.
That’s not all, either. Humans are stubborn, but they’re also clever and resourceful. Of course, you have to be clever to build interstellar starships, but their lack of natural biological weapons makes them rely on their cleverness that little bit more—gives them that much more of an edge.
Some humans were pirates, raiding systems on the frontiers of known space and scaring away the locals for parsecs around, sometimes clearing out whole squadrons with a single ship. The more “civilized” ones often worked as bounty hunters for powerful interests in the gold- and uranium-rich systems near the galactic core. Their employers gave them a name that they translated into their language as “Hounds of the Stars,” which they adopted for themselves proudly.
“Hounds” are genetically modified work animals that some humans run with to enhance their strength—faster than they are, with natural sharp teeth and claws, but adapted for their same relentless tenacity. As if they needed even more to make them scary.
No one was quite sure where the humans came from. They guarded their secrets jealously, but the leading theory was that they were a genetic experiment created by a long-dead Power and turned loose—perhaps even turned on their creator. What else could they be when they were so powerful and dangerous and had endurance that most species could only dream of? And besides, no one had ever seen their homeworld or even a large gathering of them. That was what they had to have been, right? Dangerous, yes, but rare, manageable, tractable.
Until the day when a massive colony fleet of humans appeared from the depths of unknown space and descended upon one of the planets the pirates had most thoroughly cleared out. All this time, we’d been dealing with the advance guard. | Captain Gargul stood in his state room watching the endless dark pass by his window. Occasional flecks of subspace would speed by briefly lighting the room with a joyful brightness. He prided himself on this state room. This window. It *meant something* to have earned his position. To have crawled his way up the ranks and to now be standing here with his own ship. With his own crew. His own room! He'd never had his own room before. The hatcheries were all open spaces. Then the schools and universities always used teams and pods to foster a sense of community. He loved his world. It was his home and it was everything a proud, patriotic Narmic, should cherish. But this. Privacy. Seclusion. Something to call truly his own. This was something new and wonderful.
"Excuse me, Captain. First officer Kystohn has sent you a message.", the ship's artificial assistant broke into his reverie. Being called 'Captain' was still something of a new toy for Gargul. It made him happy to hear it even coming in the form of an interruption.
"Play the message.", Gargul replied with a smile. He smiled even more broadly and realizing he was smiling. Today might just turn out to be a great day.
The image of Kystohn's head appeared near the door facing Gargul. His dull, thick, head plates clearly showing the wear of an old soldier. His hesitation and demeanor gave away bad news before he even began speaking. He'd never been one to avoid a tough situation.
"And it was going to be such a good day...", Gargul thought to himself.
"Sir we've gotten initial results from the frontier array. There's ... sir it looks like a Human ship is approaching Narmic space. I've relayed the data back home."
The image faded quickly. Silently.
"End of message. Would you like to reply?", the ship's assistant prompted.
"No. I'll head down to the bridge. Instruct the kitchen to have a warm meal ready for me there please."
Gargul left his room, closing the door solumnly behind him. The subspace lights still flickering cheerfully in the dark. | 2017-11-08T23:14:28 | 2017-11-08T19:06:31 | 33 | 19 |
[WP] After too many mistakes when learning Latin, the devil himself sends you a demon to tutor you, just so you'll stop accidentally summoning them. | “Megan, do you want anything to drink?” Mum walked a few steps down the stairs, but she stayed at the top as she asked me a question. I looked away from my book, clicking the clicker on the pen over and over again as I thought for a second.
“Orange juice, please.” She nodded, and then shifted her gaze in front of me. She hesitated for a moment, and I could see her hands shaking a bit.
“And, urh, w-would you like something. . . Sir?”
***“No. Mortal beverages do not satisfy me, but thank you for asking.”*** Mum nodded again, and then hurried off back upstairs. It took some getting used to, but her reaction seems to be better than when he first appeared.
In front of me, sitting across the table is Xirthrallon, or Sir as we call him, because apparently demon names are too much for the mortal mind to pronounce. Currently, he is acting as my personal Latin tutor, at least until I can properly grasp the forgotten language, and until I can stop summoning demons because I keep on pronouncing them wrong. The last time I summoned a demon, the devil really came after my butt; *‘if you don’t stop summoning demons from the underworld just because you can’t pronounce some Latin, I will personally make it my duty to curse your soul for all eternal and send you to the depths of hell before your time on Earth is even up!’* Well, it was much more lengthy and I almost wet myself when he appeared before me, but it gets the message across. At least he was nice enough to send me a tutor.
Xirthrallon, of course, scared me at first, just like he still scares Mum. I don’t think I could describe his appearance in words, you’d have to see for yourself how terrifying he is. His head almost touches the ceiling of the basement, and he has a deer skull, and his large body is fully black, but I can’t really describe him much apart from that. I just kept on stuttering and sweating around him, but he’s actually very nice, and he’s really good at Latin. He makes it a lot easier for me as well, teaching me phrases in certain ways, and something about him makes me always pay attention, but that might just be because in the back of my mind if I don’t pay attention I’d be royally screwed.
After Mum left, he stayed silent, looking at my work and sliding his very long, pointy finger across the words, before he tapped it on one of the sentences, ***“this sentence is wrong. Try again.”***
“What?” I looked down at the sentences, and then squinted my eyes as I tapped my pen on the book. I couldn’t figure out how it was wrong, and Xirthrallon could see I was struggling.
***“You’ve used the incorrect pronoun. That is all I will say,”*** he spoke in his usual deep and mysterious, typical demon voice, and I rattled through my brain to think of what was wrong, without flipping through the pages. He always encourages me not to do that, anyways.
After some thinking, I rubbed out something and replaced it with a different pronoun, and looked up at Xirthrallon for confirmation. He looked through it again, and then he nodded, closing his book and placing it down on the table.
***“You have deserved a small break. Go get your drink.”*** Yeah, I doubt Mum would want to go back down to the basement again. I nodded, and went upstairs.
When I came back down, juice in hand, I saw Xirthrallon going through my work with a marker and I sat back down across from him, waiting for him to give it back. He stopped when he noticed I had come back, and lowered the book to look at me.
***“You have improved, young one. Your mother should be proud of you.”***
“Are you proud of me as well, Sir?” I asked curiously. He did not say anything back, staying silent and then moving the topic along.
***“Even if accidentally, your ability to continuously summon demons, both weak and strong, has been very impressive. The Devil is quite amused at your unintentional power.”*** I smiled, that seemed like something to be proud of. It’s not every day you hear the Devil being interested in what you can accidentally do.
***“You are still very young, however, too young to properly grasp the barriers and the gates between the mortal world and the underworld. You have much to learn, both about us, and about Latin. That is why I accept the Devil’s offer.”*** He outstretched his hand, and a blue flame appeared, which I gasped and oo’d at. A piece of paper soon replaced the flame, with a feathered pen and some ink. Looking at it, it was some sort of contract, but the words weren’t in English. From what I already knew, they were in Latin, but I didn’t understand enough to figure out what it said.
***“Once I am done teaching you, I would like to take you on as my mortal apprentice. This, young one, is a very high position, it is not easy for a mortal to become a demon’s apprentice. But I see potential in you; potential that I would unlock. For an eternity, I will show you what power you have locked inside of you.”***
That seemed like a hefty offer, and I frowned a bit, “I dunno, an eternity seems like a very long time,” I said to him, leaning back in my chair, “I have a lot of stuff to do. Caden’s party is on Sunday, and Mum says she wants me to get into a good secondary school too.” Xirthrallon went silent again, probably because I made some very good points. I’m not too sure what I’d be doing as an apprentice for a demon, or what ‘powers’ I have anyways.
***“Then it seems like I have a lot of convincing to do,”*** he said, and then the contract went up in flames and vanished again, ***“perhaps one day, when you’ve properly grasped the language, and my teachings have reached its end, you will reconsider my offer.”***
I shrugged, “I guess so. I’ll think about it.” He seemed satisfied with my answer, at least for now, as he gave me back my book and picked up his own one.
***“Let’s continue then, Megan.”*** |
“You don’t really seem that shocked?”, said the demon, with a fairly huffy tone.
“Well, no”, said the girl. “I have been meeting Satan on a pretty regular basis for the last few weeks.”
“Ah”, said the demon.
“And with the greatest respect, um….?”
“Athereal”, said Athereal, responding to the question.
“With the greatest respect, Athereal, you are a little less shocking that the very personification of evil.”
“I’m not sure that’s with the greatest respect.”
“Pardon?”, said the girl.
“Well, I think you could squeeze in a little more respect if I’m honest”, replied Athereal. “Precision, you see. That’s the key to learning Latin. You can’t play fast and loose like you can with the more modern bastardisations of the original human tongues.”
The girl smiled and held up her hands in mock surrender. “Fair. Guilty as charged.” She indicated the kitchen table. “Shall we sit?”
Athereal nodded, and the girl pulled back one of the cheap pine chairs and took a seat.
The demon materialised on the chair opposite with a wisp of smoke and faint smell of sulphur.
“Athereal, you show off”, said the girl, holding her hands to her cheeks dramatically. “I am very shocked, don’t you worry.”
The demon harrumphed. “You have me at a disadvantage, young lady.”
“Amy Enright”, said Amy, holding out her hand. “A pleasure, I’m sure.”
Athereal took the proffered hand. “A pleasure”, he said, unconvincingly.
“Do you want a drink?”, asked Amy. “Tea, water, or tequila is all I can offer, I’m afraid. I’m not much of a grocery shopper.”
Athereal shook his head. “No, I’d rather get down to business, and then I can head home. It’s bloody freezing up here. I am here to teach you Latin, so that Lucifer can get a minutes peace without you summoning him up here for one mispronunciation or other.”
Amy laughed, a high crystal tap note. “He did seem to be getting a bit annoyed with me. I think he thought the big fire and brimstone act would put me off on his last visit. This is a creative solution, I must say.”
“Yes, well”, said Athereal. “Now I suppose it’s out of the question for you to sell me your soul and I can just skip all the lessons and give you the ability, is it?”
“I feel like I need my soul, don’t I?”
“Just a bit? I can do more of a timeshare type deal?”
Amy folded her hands together, put her elbows on the table, and with her head resting on the prop that created, gazed steadily at Athereal. He looked glum, which was an interesting look on a demon.
“Thought not. If this were easy, the Boss would have already dealt with this.” He sighed. “Right I suppose we should start with some basic grammar.”
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After a couple of hours of lessons, Athereal was starting to get a little annoyed with his student's lack of attention. “Look”, he said. “Are you even trying? You want to learn latin enough that you are willing to keep going, even with the Devil himself appearing in your room, but not enough to listen to me?”
Amy shrugged.
“Tu discipulus malus”, said the demon. Then added by way of translation: “you are a terrible student.”
“Tu terribilis es discipulus, you mean”, said Amy.
The demon gaped at her.
“You said, I’m ‘bad’. Precision, Athereal. Someone once told me that was the key to learning latin.”
The Demon pushed back his chair and stood up. “You’ve been wasting my time! You can speak Latin perfectly well.”
Amy rolled her eyes. “Of course, you idiot. Did you really think I’d accidentally, repeatedly summoned the Devil? God, you’re even dumber than he is.”
The demon backed away, as Amy’s eyes began to glow in a way that he found unsettlingly familiar.
“Your eyes…. Who are you?”
“Amy Enright, I told you that.”
The demon looked blank. “Who?”
“Damien. Right? People always say I have my father’s eyes.
“Oh. Fuck”, said Athereal. “Did I say my name was Athereal? I meant it was Baelthebub.”
Damien cast off the appearance of the young Latin student and materialised next to Athereal. He put his arm around the quivering tutor. “Now, Athereal. You are going to help me make those eyes of my father finally pay me a bit more attention, OK?”
Athereal swallowed hard and nodded.
“Correct answer. I’ve got a plan, and I think you can help”, said the Prince of Hell, with eyes aglow.
​
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
r/TallerestTales | 2020-12-30T11:16:25 | 2020-12-30T10:58:24 | 406 | 175 |
[WP] How does the Grim Reaper react to a Zombie Apocalypse? | "Thank you for calling Ethereal Weapon and Supply Company. My name is QXkLUarq. How may I be of assistance?"
"My Scythe is not reaping correctly, Every time I harvest a soul it--"
"Thank sir I am sorry to hear you are experiencing difficulty. May I have your name please?"
"... rude ... YES Reaper, first name Grimm. "
"hmmm I don't see any records for you Mr. Reaper, oh here it is they had you under Lord Death."
"Yes now about the Scythe it's bee--"
"Please hold while I transfer you to our technical support group"
*sigh*
"E,W&S tech support K'H'n'jal'so speaking, May I have your full name please?"
"but I just gave that to the--"
"Sir I am going to need your full name to start a case. Attitude won't help us fix this any faster"
"... Grimm Reaper"
"I don't see that is there another name the account may be listed under?"
"uh... Lord Death? the Olden Bones? the Dire harv---"
"ah yes I see you here Mr. Reaper, What seems to be the difficulty you are experiencing"
"Finally! yes my Scythe is malfunctioning. Every time I take a soul the husk keeps moving. It's making quite a mess. Husks are eating the other mortal coils are afterwards. My boss is going to obliterate me if too many more pass before they're ready. Quality control is already breathing down my neck"
"I see so would you characterize this as undesirable plague spreading or uncontrolled necromancy?"
"uh.. Both I suppose? Definitely uncontrolled necromancy yes."
"Yes yes, can you find the makers mark on your implement sir? I believe your scythe may have a recall active"
"Well I can already tell you it's defective! How do I fix it!?"
"Sir I have already warned you to maintain a civil tone I will not warn you again"
"UGH alright please these things are really getting out of hand. A whole mortal city is in flames already"
"I understand this is a very stressfull situation sir. now please the maker's mark?"
"Let's see here.... ah Brokk and Eiti?"
"hmmm yes I see here that this appears to be the known 'Zombie' defect. Terrible side effect of mortals with active imaginations affecting unshielded enchantments. Alright Mr Reaper I can send you an RMA kit for repair, Infernal Express can have it to you within an epoch."
"This really is very urgent can I pay for expedited shipping?"
"Certainly sir one decade and one century rates are available"
"give me the decade then..." | “Apprentice! Come here! Explain… this. What is this nonsense?”
“They are called ‘Zombies’, my Lord.”
“Zombies? What are Zombies?”
“The folk call them ‘the undead’, Sir. They are alive and dead.”
“How can they be alive, if I can’t kill them? See? I can’t even touch them!”
“Life has left them, O dark Lord. Yet it lingers. Almost like a whisper. They have lost their souls, their wits, yet their most primal instinct remain intact. The one for hunger seems to be the predominant one, Sir.”
“But I haven’t touched them. How do they die? How do they become like this?”
“No one knows, My Lord. Some say it’s a virus, some say it’s the next step in evolution but no one knows for certain.”
“This can’t be the next step in evolution. I ALWAYS had a say in that process. Besides, it goes on way too rapidly.... No. This is hand made. Hand made by those foolish humans. They tried to play god once more and cheat death and, once again, they failed.”
“Have they, Sir? It seems these creature do not age and also don’t die. You said it yourself, Sir, they cannot be touched by you.”
…
“... Aye, I can’t touch them. Not directly…”
“What are you saying, my lord of darkness?”
“As you said, they are ‘undead’: too alive to die, but too far gone to life. It seems we need to find a way to squeeze the last bit of life out of them.”
“How are we supposed to do that?”
“We will mobilize our best killing machine, apprentice.”
“What is that?”
“Mankind.”
| 2017-06-16T11:13:06 | 2017-06-16T10:20:48 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] Your power is that anyone will believe what you say, no matter what it is. You casually rob the store, assuring everyone that nothing is out of the ordinary, and later laugh as you offer an outlandish explanation to the flabbergasted police. | “You just won the lottery?”
“Yep!” I casually explain to the officer, smirking. “Don’t really know why they gave it to me in cash, but you don’t really care, do you?”
“Nah,” the officer said, scratching his head. “Congrats, I guess.”
I reply, “Thanks bud!” As I walk away, I say in a sly tone, “You’re not wearing clothes.” Giggling as the man panics behind me, I step into my recently acquired Porsche. Honestly, I didn’t expect it to be so easy. It’s like everyone suddenly only understands truth, and I’m the only one that escaped the curse. I dial my friend’s number, bored.
“Hey!” She chirps. I don’t even know her, but I wanted to try an experiment. This morning, I DM’ed a recording of me to some Instagram model telling her that I was one of her previous boyfriends. Just in case she checks up on her actual ex, I DM’ed him a video of me as well and made him give me his account, and then forget who he was. Suprisingly, even video’s of my voice worked! He was out of the picture, and she was my new contact! Now, I needed some ideas.
“So,” I say craftily, “you know that anyone believes what I tell them.”
“Yeah!” She exclaims. “I don’t know how, but it’s cool! You’d be the greatest celebrity! Everyone would be absolutely fed up with you if you said the right things.”
I almost choke. “What did you just say?”
“You should post something on your social media! I’m sure you could literally reach any follower goal you want!”
I mull over those words, and an idea worms into my head. It starts as a spark, and gradually erupts into a wildfire that makes an irresistible grin appear on my face. Could I really do that shit?” I consider my options, and how big the consequences could be. Then, I pull over and take out my phone, opening Instagram. I think about what exactly I’m going to say and press record.
“Hey, it’s me. You think of me as God. You want to follow this page, and send this video to everyone that you follow. If your local government shuts this down, storm it, kill everyone, and await further instruction. Life will be better for now on. Everything you have ever wanted and needed will be given to you by me. I’ll keep posted.” | "Listen, I was just going to get thi sdown to the local orphanage."
"Oh, okay, fair enou- WAIT! WE DON'T HAVE AN ORPHANAGE!"
I always use my most outlandish idea, just makes the reward all the best better. "Oh, yeah you're right, I was going to deposit this in my house to further spend on other things to bolster the local economy."
"Right, have a good day sir." he tipped his cap to me. The other one was more... difficult.
Somehow he wasn't believing me, "Hey! Weren't you ment to get *all* of your bank money and give it to me?" Foolishly I gave him the number to call when he converted it into cash, the other policemen went down easy.
About a week later he came to my house with four duffel bags, throwing them into the hall of my tiny house, I was planning to move to the most expensive house I could find in the next city over. I took a tiny glimpse into one of the bags, the green shone like the sun, it felt so much better than simply walking in and taking it, the trickery was nearly as worth as the money itself... okay, not really but you get me.
I shut the door on him then heard ticking, it got louder and louder, I imediately rippied open the bags. A bomb.
10. 9. 8. 7.
I tried to lift it up, but it weighed what felt like a tonne.
3. 2. 1.
I felt every single part of my body flare up as I was blinded by the brightest and hottest light I had ever seen and felt. It slowed down and instinctually turned to my right, the police officer, his dark silhoutte. | 2020-03-06T11:48:09 | 2020-03-06T10:30:59 | 15 | 10 |
[wp] You are the Avatar. Master of all elements. You are currently on element 19 of 98 currently known, and are learning from the feet of the Grand Potassium Bender.
Why is it always the classic four? Fire's not even remotely elemental! Let's add some science! | "Where are we headed now Master Bond?" I asked as the emotionless hulking giant of a man lead me down a corridor that seemed to grow increasingly bright the further we trod. With the Masters long strides, it's a wonder I could keep up but every step seemed to give me more energy, as if there was some healing and replenishing energies soaking into me from the walls.
"This is the temple of the greatest healer known to this world, her powers are legendary, and there are reports of her healing reaching those miles away, even when she does not intend it." my master squeeled. He had a tendency to let his voice quiver when he did not feel a connection with those around him. He never spoke in the barritone I had come to know during our training at his dojo. There was always a multitude of people roaming about the Carbon Castle, but here it was silent.
After walking what must have been half a mile through intricate cave, we came upon a door with almost no notable features barring it's curiously curved brown handles, and the fact that it was 20 feet high. It looked quite heavy, and was a soft violet color.
Master Bond paused at the door, "What is she like?" I asked. Up to this point I had been told nothing of her appearance, or demeanor.
"She is quite kind, almost too kind. She has been known to support others while nearly completely wiping out her own life force without hesitation. I will warn you of this, you may find her appearance unsettling at first. Not ugly, more confusing than anything. She is not of this world, she was tricked into coming here by a terrible being and has accepted her fate among the mortals. She has agreed to teach you only at my begging so be polite, you will find no better trainer in this lifetime. Now open the door, only those with the elemental powers may open it."
I have felt potassium bending before, although it is very week compared to my Nitrogen or Helium techniques. I summoned what I believed to be that strength and pulled at the brown handle. The door pulled open ever so slightly, but the handle squished through my fingers almost immediately and I was forced to catch it, nearly crushing the fingers of my spare hand, before it closed again. The once solid looking handle was now a mess of slush in my hand and on the floor. and would not move any more as I strained to keep what now seemed to be 300lbs from crushing my clean hand.
Then suddenly the door had no weight and floated open without any effort at all. Before me stood a glowing purple bipedal creature with hooves for feet and a unicorn horn carrying a large crescent shaped staff.
"Welcome child, you may call me Master Raka. I am glad to see you have a small bit of bending down already, although within a week I expect you to be able to open the door without touching it."
I had seen her before in paintings and from fairytales in my younger years. The monks spoke of her often and one even said he had the pleasure of feeling her presence on the battlefield long ago. She was known by many names in the tales, The Duchess of Banana's, The Great Healer, but her true name was, Soraka. | The master comes into the room and places what appears to be a sack of bananas on the table and a bottle of water.
"Bananas... master?" I questioned, much to my bewilderment.
He smiles warmly and explains, "Why yes my pupil, much like how water benders can bend blood, earth benders can bend metals, I will show you how to bend potassium."
And with a flick of his wrist a banana flies out of the sack, he peels it with his hand and eats.
This isn't what I wanted to learn.
"Master, is this some kind of joke? How can I fight with... with bananas? There is an impending war and here we are learning how to summon bananas! This is a waste of my time!"
The master paused for a moment, and resumes chewing again.
"Ah, but you fail to remember an aspect of combat, unpredictability. A key to success my student, is to know your resources and to understand how each of the elements work, much like how the hero Toph, understood how the impurities of metal could be used in metal bending and used the fire-benders machines against them. I will show you something even more dangerous".
"But..-"
"Take this banana, do you see it? It's food, there's nothing too special about it."
He grabs a banana from a sack and passes it over to me and resumes his lecture.
"Useless, I can't hurt you with this, it's just a fruit, but with a twist of a few fingers..."
The master extends his palm facing the banana and with one fluid motion moves his hand across his body, the banana quickly turns brown, and a dull metallic powder comes out and flies towards him. He then forms the powder into what appears to be a small sewing needle.
"This my pupil, is what makes our art so dangerous" he says with a devious smile.
"... what is a needle going to do to my opponent? Prick him to death?"
He raises a finger, balancing the tip of the pin on it.
"Ah, but you're missing something here"
he flicks the pin into the water bottle, which violently explodes.
"The human body is comprised of 80% water, not much different from this bottle of water, should something like that were to pierce the flesh, the results will be just as ugly. Shall we begin?"
He tosses another banana. | 2015-03-30T13:27:41 | 2015-03-30T13:25:24 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] You are allowed to 'downvote' a government candidate instead of voting normally, reducing their votes by one. Turns out people have little love for politicians, and the majority end with negative votes. In these democracies, anonymity is the key to winning. | "Zjim." Zjim offered, stepping up to the stage.
"Jim? What's your last name?" the speaker asked. She flipped through the results print off.
"It's Zjim, actually. You can call me Jim though if it's easier. My last name's Zupp."
She flipped to the end of the report. "Wow, okay. Yeah, I do see you. You only received a single downvote. It looks like your name actually ended up printed on the back of the ballot by itself."
"That was me. Thought it was only fair if I voted for myself."
"Do you even understand how the new ballot system works? You vote for the people you don't want in office."
"I understand," Zjim straightened his ill-fitting tie. He hadn't worn one since fourth grade when he was 4-H treasurer. It was a little small now. "I don't want in office. My mom said I could only keep living with her if I was actively applying to jobs, so I figured running for president, you know, that's a job. I didn't do any campaigning or anything, either."
The woman's sighed, and pulled back the curtain to reveal the crowd of people gathered at the square. Their applause died as they saw Zjim wave with a pursed lip smile.
The woman nudged him, whispering out the side of her mouth. "They're expecting a victory speech."
Zjim waddled out to the podium amidst silence.
"Hi mom," he said into the microphone. "Make sure you feed the cat. I probably won't get home until late."
A wave of shuffles and coughs carried from the crowd as they turn to look at each other baffled.
"Thanks for electing me, everyone. I'm glad I managed to not upset any of you yet."
Zjim wandered back behind the curtain.
"Who the hell was that?" From the otherwise mute crowd. Several laughs followed, breaking into chittering discussion.
"That's it?" The woman asked. It was the question that would be asked many more times through President Zupp's term.
The man that would go on to lead the Free world into an era of peace, prosperity, and nationwide economic coziness shrugged. "Where's the bathroom in this place?"
/r/surinical | Robert Smith was working from home, but hadn't yet gotten dressed (no video calls this morning) when the doorbell rang. He grumbled at that--he wasn't expecting any visitors. He quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a red polo that that he kept handy just in case, and answered the door.
Two men were standing at the door. One was wearing khakis and a blue polo, the other wearing jeans and a white polo. They were both holding two clipboards each.
Robert opened the door cautiously. "Can I help you gentlemen?" he asked.
"Maybe," Blue Polo answered. "Are you Robert Smith?"
"Depends who's asking."
"Well, my name's Bob Smith, and I live about two blocks that way, and my companion here is Bobby Smith, from those condos just before you get to Main Street, just inside the Ward 5 line. We were wondering if you've ever considered running for the Ward 5 seat on City Council."
Robert's mind raced. He could see where this was going. And the current ward councilwoman, Mary Jones, definitely needed to go. If it hadn't been for her name unrecognition, she'd never have gotten the job. He opened the door a little wider. "Come on in," he said. "Let's talk." | 2022-11-21T07:20:30 | 2022-11-21T06:52:58 | 1,045 | 78 |
[WP] Canada has suddenly gone dark. No communication, no trade, no activity from within. Nothing for days. Alaska, now cut off from mainland US, is slowly ceasing in contact with the US federal government until a final correspondence is given: "Leave us. Reinforce the border. Don't ever open it." | At first, no one really knew what to think. I mean, how does an entire country, a massive one, drop off the face of the earth like that?
No contact. Any missions, squads, caravans, drones, hitchhikers, boats and even animals that crossed that border disappeared, instantaneously. It didn’t take long for the military to start putting up walls, defences of all kinds. Talks of supernatural beings flooded the northern states, and parents kept a closer watch on their children, for fear of needing to run. Stocks plummeted and flew, and traders rushed to make hasty adjustments to their imports and exports, while family members desperately tried to reach the citizens of the frozen country.
The defences were built slowly at first, cautionary lines like increased process customs, more frequent and better patrolled, but as the weeks wore on and not a soul was heard from, people became agitated, as people do when there is no change.
Alaska has always been in great communication. What with the constant military training, their frequent partnership with Canadians, and the general proximity, it was always assumed that they would know what’s up. And for a while, they sent details.
“The people are staying inside, we think...things look normal, but without anyone there... it’s just creepy, footage will start and then cut out...the squad never came back....” and other comments were muttered, but as the weeks drew into months, Alaska’s communications became more sparse. The message never changed, just a ghost country that eats whatever enters. The messages drew short, and more distant, until finally three months had passed with no message. This is when America really built up their defences, preparing for the worst. They had long since began to believe the Canadians dead, because who could live inside that long, without ever coming out? And why did no drone, person or thing ever return, not even the monarch butterfly, known for its migration, suddenly cease it’s journey?
Russia had followed a strict schedule to enforce it’s northern boundaries, spreading like wildfire until they had established a clear line across the freezing grounds. Their communication with the States became more open, distinctive improvements, some would call it.
Of course, the rest of the world was watching, helping, holding summits and conferences and doing their general political thing, and private companies were making a killing off of the peoples’ fears. They were selling drones, anti-Canadian protection, boating companies patrolled the coasts from a distance and even a couple places sold t-shirts, like “My mom went to Canada and didn’t even send me a T-shirt” jokewear. But on the year mark, from when Canada went dark, a message came from Alaska.
“Leave us. Reinforce the border. Don’t ever open it.”
America wasted no time, and plenty of other countries kicked in to help. With a supernatural enemy in common, they had begun to find ways to work with each other better, and a world wide agreement was signed. No one was to ever go near Canada again, for fear of contamination, and large penalties were put in place as a precaution.
The world had abandoned Canada, it’s residents, and Alaska. Cement walls, 10 feet high and barbed wire on top walled the country in from all sides, and a unique “Canadian Protection Taskforce” was erected, an international guard to protect the world from what had been nicknamed “The Frozen Hell”.
Slowly, but surely, the world began to return to a new semblance of normal, learning to cope without the large, dark wasteland that was once a bustling young country. And as the Earth began to forget, the Canadians began to move, en masse. To the weed stores, the bars, and back into their routines, all shapes and sizes...and deep within this frozen Hell, somewhere in an over decorated hip Ontarian bar, with the Governor of Alaska and a craft beer by his side, Justin Trudeau kicked up his rainbow socks and said, “I told you it would work.” | Nobody thought of it at first, as less and less flights started to come in and out of Canada, to eventually none. Car travel slowed until it too eventually stopped, Canadian TV and Radio networks going dead within a matter of hours.
To be completely honest, nobody even noticed it at first, until for the first time in a week radios were lighting up left and right, a broadcast from Canada “L..sten, c...tures” it was really choppy, poor signal, almost nothing could be heard until all of a sudden it was crystal clear. “Whatever you do, do NOT open the borders. Close them. Reinforce them. Never let it and it’s friends escape!” The signal could be heard for a few more seconds before a shriek could be heard in the background, then the signal went dead.
Within just a couple of hours the president had ordered almost all troops to the Canadian border, sealing it off completely with tanks, almost every gun in the country, drones, everything. Nobody was about to take a chance with whatever is there.
After the troops deployed it was, for the most part, calm at the border. Nothing was happening or had happened, until a few soldiers off in the distance see a shadowy figure, kind of tall but not really, just standing there, it was about 9PM at the time, it had been getting dark but it wasn’t quite there yet. They start alerting everybody that someone is out there, and they all start staring at this creature, until they hear this ear piercing screech as hundreds of them pop up from the forest, getting down on all fours and booking it towards all the soldiers. At that moments everybody opened fire, shooting any of them down that they could, but it wasn’t enough as they started jumping up and attacking the soldiers and mercilessly mutilating them.
After that sections of the border slowly began to fall, until there wasn’t a single surviving soldier out there. They soon overran the US, destroying the country in a matter of days, soo Mexico, then South America. It wasn’t long before the creatures learned how to swim, but the Eastern part of the world had prepared themselves, and with the collective force of everyone’s navy they were able to wipe out each and every one of the creatures, they brought a few aboard to perform some tests. It was pure black with the shape of a human, but there wasn’t anything to it or it’s face, no eyes, no mouth, no nose. Nothing, they poke around at it and find the body isn’t even purely solid, it had almost a gelatin type construct. After running multiple tests it all came down to the same result. Ink. Normal ink that comes out of a ballpoint pen.
Nobody wants to accept this, that whatever it was, was just ink, one of the scientist feels it out with its hand, before it slowly starts creeping up, enveloping his entire body as it completely changed him, to become one of those creatures, it wasn’t long after that he was killed of course, and all test subjects were tossed overboard. Never to be seen again. | 2019-08-25T20:02:13 | 2019-08-25T19:45:28 | 317 | 72 |
[WP] A love story between a woman who takes everything literally and a man who speaks exclusively in metaphors. | Amelia Bedelia leaned against the stone wall of her cell watching the guards pace along the thin halls, their bobby sticks rattling against the iron bars as they walked. She missed her freedom, and longed desperately for the days when she could jump into her husbands arms. His long fingers black with ink from hours of scrawling poetry in his study.
It had been true love, no couple had been happier. They had been poor, yes, but when they curled up into bed and he held her close she wanted for nothing more than to stop time and feel his warmth forever.
Sure, they had argued at times, but she had grown to accept his odd way of seeing the world. Only having to occasionally visit the doctor to ensure that she was not, in fact, a rose, nor where her eyes sapphires. But the fairy tale had all come to an abrupt end, while they were enjoying a pie gifted from the neighbor.
“This pie is delicious,” he had said.
She remembered the rapture in his eyes. Her husband had been so full of life and lived each moment through an erotic connection with his senses.
“Yes, it is very good isn’t it, Mary makes good pie.”
He stood up and held the small white plate dished with a square of pie. “No, Amelia my love, this pie is not good, this pie is like a babies first smile, this pie is the dew under a full moon, this pie has the crust that peaks above the hills at first light this p-”
“My dear,” I had said, “This pie is pie.” I smiled at him and patted his knee. My husband would have an occasional fit of hysteria, but I loved him all the same.
He looked at me, “Amelia, this pie is not just pie, I would stake my life upon this pie,” He once again stood up and began pacing, “I would tear my body limb from limb, and burn my still beating heart with irons,” he shouted, “I would rip my tongue and scatter my teeth across the land and spill my blood out into the ocean.”
Amelia felt a tear trickle down her cheek. She watched him pacing across the room calling out for death if the pie was not the finest pie ever made. She walked slowly to the kitchen and choose the sharpest knife. Mary baked a good pie, but she knew that the crust was too soft and the apple filling had too much sugar. The pie was good but it was not the finest. With tears in her eyes Amelia served out her true love's dying wishes. | "Excuse me, could I steal you away from the bar for a tête a tête?"
Zoe looked at the beard, and the suit. The bar doesn't own me, she thought, so it was a silly notion that he could steal her. But she liked his beard, and his eyes.
"In a way, though if you were stealing me you wouldn't ask!"
"Then come and let me feast on the joy of your company" he said, taking her arm. Silly man, she thought. You can't eat a feeling. But his firm hands and the muscular forearms under her fingertips swayed her thoughts.
As they sat at the table, he told her a story that wove its way through a universe of apparent lies, and she started to let go of the analysis of every phrase. If she relaxed and stopped listening to the words she could guess the truths behind the lies. She started to see it as another language where you spoke always in a lie as though the truth was multiplied a thousandfold. And he loved to talk.
"Shall we go somewhere and, uh, not talk?" she said, almost nonchalant, but letting her fingertips circle the knuckles on his left hand. She would like to be one of those girls that was coy, and waited, but somehow she ended up saying what she thought, and that tended to be on the blunt end.
"I'll fly you to the moon." He gave her a playful scowl. "I know we're not going to space," she said softly, "but if we were, I'd rather have the controls." He raised an eyebrow.
She held a finger to her lips. | 2015-07-11T13:00:12 | 2015-07-11T12:51:29 | 32 | 19 |
[WP] The current rulers of the galaxy exert their dominance by showing showing new races a glimpse of their terrifying nature inevitably either driving the unfortunate victims mad or causing them to retreat in fear. It does not work on humans however, they are used to it | Whenever our people find new life in the galaxy, by tradition, we show them our true forms. Every member of our species is taught this. It is perhaps our strongest weapon, such that those who oppose us must use machines without fear or mind to fight our military might. This combined with our military has served our people for millennia, either breaking new civilizations's minds such that the population dies out from psychotic breaks, or forcing them into instinctive terror as their minds struggle with even comprehending our appearances.
This world would have been no different. It's dominant species was weak looking by galactic standards. Nearly any of our billions of slave cast species would be able to conquer this new species. To start, this new discovery hadn't even learned how to leave their own solar system yet.
And yet, when we sent our delegates, our representatives to each of their divided leaders, and they revealed their true forms, we were not met with fear or insanity. Oh, there were some who reacted as expected, but it was not on a species scale, or even societal.
But by and large, this species... Their reaction to us was amusement, calling us strange names like Pennywise, Galactus, Gozira, King Kidora or Cthulu, to name a few. More researh would have been done in regard to these terms and their meaning.
But my Supreme Leaders, though they reacted at first in amusement, when they comprehended why our empire's representatives were there, of what we were telling them, their attitude did change. But while there were perhaps more fear than at first, most of it was hostility.
They are a mad species, is perhaps the best way I can summarize them. The world over, they killed or captured every one of our empire's representatives. Those captured have been interrogated and tortured, many to death, and even the dead were not left alone, each being butchered open as this new species sought to learn of us, of our weaknesses with an alarming level of pragmatic and brutal efficiency.
I sent down ships to regain control while harvesting their media streams to learn about this species, and all I learned is we are not their first visitors. We are not their first horrors, and we are not their worst nightmares. They have found ways to kill the bioweapons of the Engineers, and know the best ways to face the tribesmen of the Hunters. They know the monsters that can be found throughout the galaxy and beyond, and yet they do not fear us, have not yet left their system.
That is far from the worst, my Supreme Leaders.
This mad species destroyed every ship I had ordered down. Even the five battleships, taken out by the insanity we know as splitting an atom. Even now, they are dissecting those wrecks just as they dissected our empire's representatives.
But I was wrong. *We* were wrong.
We *are* their first visitors. They have never encountered another planet's species. They have not built up weapons of devastation to defend against invaders.
All those records we spent hours going over that involved another species, invaders, were fake. Meant for entertainment, fabricated without any true knowledge of actual existence. They concieved the idea of threats and how to kill them, for fun.
No, every weapon that has been used against us, even the Atomic Terror... They built it all for one purpose, to fight against the most dangerous thing they knew: each other. The leaders divided would at times declare war between themselves, sometimes uniting to have wars that spanned their whole world, twice in fact for this scale of conflict. Everything has been for killing their own kind as the biggest threat.
And we just gave them a new target that they have now unified against.
My Supreme Leaders, on discovering the Planet Dirt, third satellite of their star, labeled Star, we have welcomed a courtship with death and madness, for unless our forces here can wipe them out now, I have every belief that this mad species will leave their solar system to come hunting for us.
I pray to our Grace, the Eldest Swirl, that this is not my last transmission, but if it is, then I have failed, and the humans are coming for you.
Admiral Xzijnoa, of the Imperial Expansion Navy's third fleet, signing off.
Edit 1: First ever silver, thank you! (1.2) And now first gold too! Wow!
Edit 2: I wasn't even aware there was a Platinum award, but someone out there thought this was good enough for one; I'm kinda blown away with how much attention my submission is getting considering some of the other ones here are excellent as well. | "How many have we lost so far?" Growled General Barkler, as he stared at the great blue orb sitting in space. He had been ordered to fetch this world and its spoils, but it was not coming easily. It may as well be inside the neighbor's fence.
"The tally is in the tens of millions, sir. But it's worse than that." The first officer's frowning face of fur was furrowed in a furious fit of frustration. "They've actually started *breeding* the ones they've captured. Losses are expected to continue to grow exponentially."
"All right. Patch me through to home command so I can beg for permission to leave."
The holographic screen blinked up in the middle of the room. The three faces of the Poodle Presidency Pact displaying in a beautiful array of grays. Princess Primbottom addressed her military commander.
"General! We were getting worried, we haven't received any reports. Have you enslaved the humans yet?"
Barkler was not expecting to feel quite so ashamed. He actually started *whining*. How undignfied! In front of his officers, the crew, and the PPP! He curled his tail between his legs and could not have looked more pitiful.
"I take it things have not gone well." Prince Puffyface noted. "Please, general, give us the report. Sit. Speak."
Barkler placed his rear end on the floor, lifted his head as high as his little legs would allow, took a deep breath, and gave a bark to regain his composure.
"Pristine Personelle of the Poodle Presidency Pact, here is my report."
"On starship date 2078 the Rover Squadron arrived to earth. We descended with our most elite troops as our frontal invasion force. Their mission was just as it was on all other planets, find the inhabitants, enter their homes, demand food and constant playtimes, jump on their furniture, shed everywhere possible, bark at strangers, and excrete waste in their yards.
As expected, we were met with little resistance. What was unexpected was that these aliens... these Hyew-mans... actually enjoyed it! They happily take them in, walk them every day, throw balls or sticks for hours in games of fetch, even training them to do things we previously had thought too cruel! Even our oldest veterans have returned with some new tricks!
We've jumped on them and all their friends, barked incessantly, slobbered all over their faces, and in return they give them fancy collars and then pick up any messes produced. Even when we destroy their furniture or eat their foot coverings they just continue to reciprocate some kind of strange emotion... love they call it!
It has gotten bad enough that our troops are refusing to come back. They willingly submit themselves to these aliens, calling them their new masters. I've lost more men than I can count. I'll have the battle statist send you a complete report of the numbers."
There was silence over the call. The general began to wonder if they were still connected, or if his report was too long. No, they were still moving. They are discussing with their telepathic poodle link. Perhaps it would be best to play dead.
President Paddlepants broke the silence. "General Barkler, you have our permission to leave. This is a lost cause."
Barkley buried his face in his paws and began to whine again.
The president continued. "It's not your fault, general. You did as protocol dictated. Return home and prepare for your next assignment. Don't worry. You are a good boy."
Barkler barked in acknowledgement, and tapped the button to close communication. "All right men, let's go home. I need to go see my puppers!" | 2019-06-11T09:37:21 | 2019-06-11T09:05:18 | 1,501 | 216 |
[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 | Electrified, Stabbed, Engulfed in flames, Beaten on the floor, those were just everyday life of a guy like me with “nothing” on his sigil, Students and Teachers alike always called me “nothing” just like how they described my mark, i was just nothing in their eyes, but that was enough for me to go by.
Months passed and scars wouldn’t leave my body anymore and it showed i was determined to never use my power because it was just plain and boring, but now they took it too far, all their insults, I could take but never an insult to my sick mother
“Hey Nothing! What would happend if i try to make your mother cooler? Would you activate your powers then?”
With that provocation, the students near us were gathering, curious as to how ill react. He stood infront of me with his confident smirk.
His name was Frost, and you know already why he was called like that, but no, they should never mention my beautiful mother let alone insult her, This has to stop now.
“Hey Frost, do you really wanna see it first hand? Then be my guest!”
My plain old circle glowed radiant, like a blinding light befitting to a descent of a God, and and a moment later, He was gone, Erased from existence, like a character being deleted
The students that surrounded us gasped, shocked, and terrifed, they now knew despair, and as to why i was called nothing, because what they were seing now infront of me was supposed to be Frost, but now he was gone, Like it was nothing.
This is payback | The power of the "Full Circle" sigil was never truly understood or appreciated. Seen as middling with equal gains and losses, disregard was the usual way.
These bullies saw the sigil as the Cherry on a very attractive Target. Not only was his sigil uninspired, but his refusal to respond or react made him a Target they knew would never call for help. Their Target offered nothing to others. The sigil, to others, meant he would take but not give .
Until the day he did. All the malice the world offered their Target, with their own at the front, was made manifest. The physical pain was never noticed as the mental anguish was all the stronger. Indeed, those with sigils of mental and physical fortitude were both laid bare and beaten.
That which had been given to him was now returned all at once. | 2020-02-26T06:48:40 | 2020-02-26T06:26:31 | 93 | 37 |
[WP] You are agent 23-23-24 for the Timeline Integrity Organization. Your job consists of sitting at a desk where you read reports about all types of mundane events to ensure nothing has gone awry. Once day you notice the tiniest detail out of order and realize something terrible has happened. | Modifying timelines is tricky business. For something so fundamental to the fabric of reality, time is shockingly fragile. Technology advanced enough that we could make small changes in the early 22nd century and most of the time since has been spent setting up an infrastructure of agents who document reports that are brought from their timeline to the Timeline Integrity Organization.
The TIO exists in a bubble outside of time and space. That's not to say it is totally unaffected, the agents there still age, but when modifications are made to the timeline the TIO can serve as a vault to ensure that things remain as close to the original timeline as possible.
Agent 23-23-24 spends day after day, reading reports from field agents and comparing the detail from the baseline reports before the TIO started modifications. There is an acceptable range of deviation, but outside of the intended effects, things are meant to be identical. This is usually easy to validate as the same field agent fills out the report in the baseline and the updated timeline and they are incredibly consistent in their files.
*July 3rd 2020 - Original Report #000125450A*
*Case Agent - 08-08-12*
*Subject - Francis Bellemont*
*Subject has gone to lunch at a local pizzeria ironically called The Pizza Place. He sits with two slices of specialty pizza and a soda. He smiles at the waitress who smiles back. They seem to have a connection. Throughout the meal they keep making eyes at each other - it's actually rather cute to watch - and when she hands him the bill, I'd be willing to bet there is a phone number written with a heart.*
*July 3rd 2020 - Modification Report #000125450B*
*Case Agent - 08-08-12*
*Subject - Francis Bellemont*
*Subject has gone to lunch at a local pizzeria ironically called The Pizza Place. He sits with two slices of specialty pizza and a soda. He smiles at the waitress but she doesn't make eye contact. If I had to guess, his shirt had something to do with it.*
Agent 23-23-24 stopped reading there, made a note and scratched his head. It was small but wasn't accounted for in the deviation report. Bellemont's life should be business as usual. 23-23-24 submits the deviation and sits back. A shirt? 08-08-12 didn't mention Bellemont's shirt the first time.
23-23-24 looked earlier in the day, earlier than the analysis was scheduled to begin and found another discrepancy. Bellemont wasn't supposed to own that shirt. He had his eye on it in the store a few days earlier but another man bought it before he could. That man was Taylor Micah and there was a deviation report submitted for him too. He was supposed to go to that store, but instead he was at lunch with a friend named Cheryl Cooke. Cooke was grieving the death of a friend who...who was the original modification.
They missed something.
23-23-24 went in the other direction. Bellemont and the waitress were supposed to get married, have kids, grandkids, great-grandkids named.
*Oh fuck.*
23-23-24 didn't submit another report. He ran. He ran through the office as fast as possible to the unit leader.
"We have a problem!" he shouted as he entered, but several other agents were already in the room.
"I'm aware, agent. We've taken corrective action. The only action there was time for."
"What action is there to take?"
"In time."
Three more agents ran into the office before the unit leader stood.
"I believe that is everyone. Thank you all for coming. It speaks to the integrity of our unit that you all found the error. A mistake was made. Something was overlooked by the Modification Mapping Unit. Dan Kennedy was killed as part of a Modification. Due to this, several degrees of separation later, Francis Bellemont did not get the phone number of his eventual wife. As a result, James Porter was never born and the TIO was never created."
"How are we still here?" one agent asked. It was a fair question. "How do we have reports?"
"The bubble is protecting us. It will hold, for a time. Eventually even that will break down and the TIO will be gone."
"You said corrective action was taken?" 23-23-24 asked.
"We've sent Agent 9."
The room went still. Agent 9 was the gold standard. He could move quickly and resolve anything. That was what they said anyway.
"How much time do we have, sir?"
The unit leader checked his watch, walked to his desk and turned his monitor around. The monitor showed a timer counting down from thirty.
"Thirty seconds. If Agent 9 got the job done, life will continue as usual. If not, our office will cease to exist."
The office was silent as the timer ran down. With five seconds to go, the unit leader spoke again. "No matter the case, it has been a pleasure working with you all."
The timer reached zero. | I rolled my chair back from my desk and stood up, stretching my arms over my head and elongating my body as much as I could. This usually gets the blood flowing and keeps me awake a bit longer. Today’s reports have been a bit torturous to read. I thought about grabbing another cup of coffee to help me stay awake and interested, but 3 cups really was my limit.
My work at the Timeline Integrity Organization was very important in maintaining the order of the world. When agents go into the field for their missions, I need to closely examine their reports, to make sure the timelines stay secure and no event, great or small, causes significant change.
This particular day started like all the others, grabbing my coffee, settling into the chair and reading reports from the agents. Some changes I found were so insignificant, it didn’t matter. Like when Agent 945 took Albert Einstein out for a few drinks one night. The next day, in his hungover state, Einstein came up with the theory of relativity. He wasn’t supposed to do that for another few months, but hey, progress is progress.
My boss came up to me and interrupted my stretching, handing me a short report with a look of confusion on his face.
“Miles, there is something off about Agent 272’s findings, but I can’t place my finger on it. Can you have a look?” He handed me the report and stayed nearby while I read it.
I quickly glanced over the short paper, dated March 13, 1999, roughly two and a half years before the current date, and didn't find anything that seemed off. I sat back down in my chair, ready to dive deeper into this, if my boss thinks there’s something up, there usually was. His instincts were scarily accurate.
After my fourth thorough read through, I finally found it. A misspelling of a name. Someone who should have been assassinated, wasn’t dead at the appropriate time. My boss knew exactly when I found the error, as the color drained out of my face. My shocked, wide eyes looked up at him. Too stunned to speak, I wrote the correct name on the bottom of the piece of paper
He snatched the paper and ran down the hall, beckoning me to follow. I jumped out of my chair and raced after him, into the World Event Viewing Room. I flicked on the USA television and adjusted the time remote to future dates. I quickly scanned through the future to see if anything had changed.
It didn’t take long to find what we were looking for, only a few hours ahead of our own time, the screaming, the burning, the events that never should have taken place. All because an agent killed the wrong man. Those men should never have gotten on the flights, the twin towers in New York never should have fallen, all those people should still be alive.
“We have to call someone!” I shouted. “We have to stop this!”
“Miles, there is nothing we can do. Events are already in motion. Besides, no one will believe us. If we called up the President of the United States right now and told him what we knew, we would be arrested for terrorism.”
“We can’t just sit back and let this happen!” I started to pace the room, the energy that flowed through me kept me from thinking rationally.
“I can’t just stand here and watch this.” I made my way over to the door and put my hand on the doorknob. My boss, the ever calm and complacent man, grabbed my shoulder and stopped me from leaving.
“Miles, no one knows the TIO exists and we have to keep it that way. It’s too late to change these events. There is nothing we can do. I repeat. There is Nothing we can do.”
My boss and I looked at each other, knowing the course of human history will be forever and irreversibly changed. The report fell out of his hand and landed on the floor, the word “Bin Laden” underlined in my handwriting sitting next to the typed “Bin Ladin” clearly visible. We sat, and waited for the world to burn. | 2020-08-02T09:23:42 | 2020-08-02T07:49:58 | 37 | 27 |
[WP] 'Please Adopt Me', said the box on the side of the road, with the single black puppy in it. So you did. A year later, you realize the breed is a bit complicated, considering it has three heads, a snake tail, and breathes fire. | It takes a lot of convincing to be allowed to keep a pet you find. Especially when that pet is the fabled keeper of the pit from Homeric myth, and you already have two dogs at home. But I never let that deter me, and thankfully my husband acquiesced my strange albeit well-meaning request.
I'd love to say it was smooth sailing, but that would be a terrible lie and I don't think I could convince myself of that, much less you. The mornings were the start of it. Little Kerberos -because of course we named him that- loved to sleep on our bed with us and just wouldn't be happy on the floor with the other dogs. Waking up to a three headed puppy licking your face and barking doesn't sound so bad, right? Well, imagine that at five in the morning, every morning. He was a bona-fide alarm clock; fine for my husband who gets up early anyway, less fine for me who works from home and likes to sleep in a little.
We also found out he was strangely picky with food, and loved everything finely charred. Fine, since he could take care of that part himself. But how do you explain to the fire department that "Yes, I'm aware this is the fourth time you've been here this week. I promise its not me, its my fire breathing dog"? We eventually swapped his bowl for a barbecue and fed him outside...
That isn't to say Kerberos doesn't have his redeeming qualities. He's gorgeous to look at, incredibly smart and trainable, and he's a fantastic guard dog. He also gets on with our other two; a husky and a Shiba. Though we do have to remind him to play nice as not everyone has the ability to breathe fire and has three heads. The neighbours love him too, except for Sheila. She always was far too biblical for us; claimed we'd be gojng to hell and some such because hubby and I weren't married when we moved in together. She took a particular disliking to Kerberos though, calling him hellspawn and a demon. Well Sheila, he might well be the spawn of hell, but his nose is so boopable and he gives kisses.
We thought we were ready for this commitment, and the troubles that would come with it. We were adults, we could handle it. The ups outweigh the downs yes, but the downs have drained our wallets and morale for the past few weeks. I think at this point I would have rather had kids...
Edit: Well this did a lot better than I thought it would... Thank you everyone for the support! And yes, it probably should say his noses are boopable, but maybe not all noses are equally boopable?
Also Kerberos is indeed the Greek spelling of Cerberus, but it in all likelyhood doesn't mean spotted. This was perpetuated because it is cognate with the Sanskrit word Karbarah which does mean spotted. However the proto-Turkic kara-boru, meaning 'black wolfhound', or from the Poenician root *klb-'rz' meaning hound of the earth'. o/ | This dog is amazing! Even though his random fire breaths are little bit annoying and his snake tail is awkward, I realized that this dog is amazing. Hes friendly, really strong, smart and handsome. I didn’t really show my dog to a lot of people, but after a while I told my friend John Burgler about it. At first he didn’t believe me and told me that I should go see a doctor. After long time of persuasion, John finally came to my house. Then he saw the dog, he couldn’t believe his eyes “ Bob, you are fucking rich” he said. Then quickly I came to realisation that this dog will make me rich and started to shout from happines with John. He said that he will comeback tommorow to take the dog, because he knows a person who will give millions for it.
During the night I couldn’t sleep, I was very confused, the tought of leaving my best friend was terrific. Even though I needed money very badly, my love for dog won. I decided to tell John that I refuse his offer and dog is staying with me.
Wednesday morning, 8:30 am, I hear doorbell rang. “Thats probably, John”. I opened up the door and told John that I ain’t giving him my doggo. Then John just laughed and pulled out his gun. “ You better give me your fucking dog or I will blow your brains out, did you thought I am going to leave this amount of money to you?” he told. That moment was so weird and I was scared to death, why is John doing it? My best friend since my childhood.I was sad, angry and confused at the same time. But also scared of him shooting. Suddenly our dog came to a room and I don’t know, how, but he realised the situation extremely quickly. With insane quickness he ran into him so fast that John didn’t react to shoot and he got bitten by a dog. The weird thing happened. He slowly started to transform and was screaming in insane pain. At the end of transformation I couldn’t believe my eyes. He turned into a cat. I looked at my dog surprised. “Good job doggo, we have a cat, cant wait to emasculate him.”
This is my first writing work, please give me some tips I can improve on :) | 2019-07-04T06:46:57 | 2019-07-04T05:01:08 | 1,277 | 52 |
[WP][Semi-Historical] In 1787, Ben Franklin snuck a joke into the U.S. Constitution/Bill of Rights that was never caught and never removed. Centuries later, it inadvertently plays a major part in a Supreme Court decision.
For any alt-history/parallel dimension fans around here. Inspired by [this TIL](http://www.reddit.com/r/todayilearned/comments/1uhd7v/til_that_benjamin_franklin_wasnt_trusted_to_write/). | "Chief Justice, you can't be serious!"
"Our decision has been based in nothing but close and careful interpretation of the United States Constitution. I assure you, we do not act in folly."
"This is an outrage! Millions of Americans cannot change who they are simply because of a court decision! This violates everything the founding fathers stood for when they wrote the Constitution!"
"Counselor, please calm down or we will hold you in direct contempt of this highest court in the land!"
"This is bullshit! How could you possibly come to this decision you panel of geriatric fucks?!"
The counselor was dragged out of the United States Supreme Court Building, his hands cuffed behind his back.
"Ladies and gentlemen of these great United States of America, please do not mourn for your families and friends in the future. They are a lesser people and as such are not afforded the basic protections our forefathers penned for us over two centuries ago. On this sixth day of January in the year 2014, this United States Supreme Court only finds it appropriate to apologize for the gross oversight of the Constitutional text as it stands. We can say with confidence that our left-handed brethren will be handled as swiftly and forcefully as necessary to completely comply with the Bill *For* Rights that we now entirely understand." | I'm in class, I'm no writer, and I can't think of a good plot, BUT I have the perfect premise: California obscenity law is put to the test in the mid 90s and the defending lawyer quotes a penis joke by Ben Franklin.
Someone please runaway with this. | 2014-01-06T18:22:09 | 2014-01-06T18:06:54 | 56 | 23 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | It wasn't until the van door shut behind me that I realized my mistake. I guess the skin mask should have tipped me off.
It's getting so you can't trust anyone anymore.
We drove for a long time. I felt the road getting rockier. By the time he opened the door it was dark out.
He yanked me out by the arm, hard. He knocked me to the ground. It was dirt. It smelled like something. Pennies. No, of course not. Blood.
Great. As if I didn't have enough on my plate today.
He laughed then, a low, insane laugh. He pointed an ax at my throat.
"Really? An ax? Don't you think that's a little derivative?"
"You are not to speak," he said. "But feel free to scream." (A little too theatrical for my taste, to be honest.)
"Look, this is a really bad time for me. I think we might have to table this for now."
"I SAID YOU ARE NOT TO SP-"
He fell to the ground. The look of surprise almost made it all worth it. Humans are so easy.
He couldn't move now, but he could still hear me and see me. He could still feel. They taste so much better when they're afraid. It really adds something.
I started at his feet. Crunching the little bones. His eyes stared straight up, but I felt his shock, his terror and pain. Far more used to being predator than prey.
I took my time.
| "You must save the world from....The Darkness.", the old man said. What the hell is The Darkness? Jeezus. I just came into the bar to get a damn drink and this old guy, who looks like 100 or something, shows up beside me. "Dude, are you off your meds or something?" The old guy blinked, "No, I have no need for your Mortal Medication, I am..." "High as hell?", I scoffed.
"Right, later. Stay out the gutter, pal" I gave him a $50, paid for my drink and left.
Turns out the world WAS ending because of the so-called 'Darkness'. Shit. Not my problem.
| 2017-05-05T08:56:55 | 2017-05-05T07:05:07 | 41 | 20 |
[WP] You are a world-class programmer who has died. God agrees to allow you in to Heaven on the condition that you work for him while he debugs the human body. Write the patch notes for the next version of humans. | *Homo* v. 1.5 release: *Homo modernus*
**New features:**
* Improved and sustained acuity of visual sensory systems. They should no longer wear out as quickly.
* Female models now have access to facial hair growth.
* In order to facilitate numerical reasoning, an arithmetic logic unit has been included in the frontal lobe.
**Bugfixes:**
* Fixed an issue where memory systems would report a new experience as having happened before.
* Fixed an issue where the immune system would incorrectly respond to nonthreatening foreign substances.
* Fixed multiple issues where the immune system would incorrectly attack other native systems, causing significant damage.
* Fixed an issue where sensory systems would produce unintelligible output while asleep.
* Fixed an issue where the male reproductive system would identify various foreign objects as being suitable to mate with.
* Fixed an issue where memory systems would report a new experience as having happened before.
* Fixed an issue where cell growth restrictions could be ignored, causing uncontrollable cell growth, leading to severe damage to nearby systems and potentially full system shutdown.
* Fixed an issue in some models where lactase production would continue past physical maturity.
**Additional notes:**
Multiple bodily systems are no longer supported and will be removed from subsequent models, including:
* Appendix
* Wisdom teeth
* Coccyx
**Previous patch notes:**
v1.0 [*Homo habilis*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_habilis)
v1.1 [*Homo erectus*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_erectus)
v1.2 [*Homo heidelbergensis*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_heidelbergensis)
v1.3 [*Homo neanderthalis*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neanderthal)
v1.4 [*Homo sapiens*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_sapiens) | Patch notes Human v1.80000001
Bug fixes:
NSP-3750 remove bug that required manual breathing while consciously aware.
NSP- 189 Modified tongue/cheek position check in "Chew" routine.
CPP-1648 improve short term memory storage, should fix the "why did I come in here?" Bug
New additions:
CMP-456 update to ensure all versions are ambidextrous.
CMP-043 added routine to module to verify code against New "Master DNA files" before recompile. Update "COPY" routine.
CMP-043A added Routine to create "Master DNA files" during birth. Should reduce instances of the common "Cancer" bug.
CMP-253 added calibration routine to visual processing. Recommend running daily as Re-Calibration can be time consuming.
SMP-18 Major overhaul to "prayer" routine. Basic Feedback should now be available. Please refer to manual "Revised Testament"(soon to be released) regarding use.
| 2015-08-25T08:53:32 | 2015-08-25T08:51:07 | 746 | 57 |
[WP] You’ve been stuck in a time loop that repeats the same day over and over. You’ve perfected every skill, you speak every language ever spoken. One day you go crazy, by the end of the day the entire town is dead. You wake up the next morning still covered in blood, the loop finally broke. | The bird didn't peck on my window. That should've been enough for me to notice, but it wasn't until I rolled over in my bed and found a severed arm that I realized it was over. I immediately went back to sleep, of course. This was the first time in what felt like centuries where I could actually allow myself to rest.
I woke up around noon. Usually, I had to stop a kid from falling off a tree around this time. Who knew throwing him myself would feel a thousand times more rewarding?
As I walked through the desolate town square, I couldn't help but chuckle at everything I experienced. Every day, I forced myself to improve. I blamed myself for the cosmic prison I was jailed in, thinking I just hadn't done enough good to escape. I had all the time in the world and never spent any of it on myself. Perhaps that was the problem all along.
It wasn't until I impaled the merchant on his statue that I remembered I had a choice. I saved that work of art from being stolen more times than I care to recall. The first time I decided to reveal myself as the person who recovered it, I was immediately labeled as the thief. I fled from the guards that time. Then, when I discovered that the merchant had machinated everything to increase its worth, I felt like a complete fool. Why did it take me so long to notice? It took a while, but I finally reached a conclusion on the day before yesterday, which I guess was technically still yesterday up until today.
I never noticed because I didn't care. I only did those good deeds to tell myself I was doing everything I could. If it were a genuine act, I would've looked deeper into the scenario instead of being satisfied with a superficially happy ending. Lesson learned, I guess.
I left the town feeling neither excitement or despair. All the good I did amounted to nothing, while the one time I succumbed to my darker impulses I was rewarded with freedom. What was I supposed to take away from this? It felt like god, the world, the universe or whatever ruled my reality was trying to tell me something. Maybe fate wasn't something imposed on the individual. Maybe it was something we all woke up to by being true to ourselves, no matter how wrong it might look on the surface.
My new found purpose made itself apparent the more I thought about it. I was never meant to do good. Saving others, doing the right thing, it would never fix the problem of evil. Everything would start all over again if everyone were saved from suffering. People needed to be *shown* evil, so they could understand why it shouldn't be perpetuated. That was my purpose. It was the only meaning I could draw from this cruel existence. If this was the role I was meant to play, then I'll gladly embrace it and bring my reckoning upon the rest of the world.
---------
> Edit: I forgot to mention that I have a subreddit (/r/WeirdEmoKidStories) where you can find more of my stuff. Thanks for reading! | "Fuck." i muttered. Well, at first i just sat in silence for some minutes. Shocked. Horrified. All those words don't really describe the feelings i had in those first minutes.
The last, well i think centuries, had been boring as hell. Or maybe it had been hell. Repeating that godforsaken day for eternity had finally gotten me to the point where I killed everyone in town. But, with the expectation in my mind to continue my existence here on the next day. But well, apparently it wasn't to be.
An second "fuck" left my mouth. I was covered in blood, standing two meters away from where i fell asleep last night. The room was still covered in bodies. And blood. Much blood. How did i even kill that many people? i asked myself.
"Ok. Now what?" were my next said words. I went to the window, because the sound of a driving car suprised me. The people inside finally had the town square in their field of view. I saw the driver looking shocked, letting go of the steering wheel... And crashing into an street lamp. The woman on the other front seat screamed horrifically, as she saw the square with 20 dead bodies on it. Killing some of them had been more fun than others. Old Mrs Lannerham had been the best. She always called me boy. Every fucking day. Seeing that smile leave her face while i hacked her into bits had been great. But apparently others didn't think so. Her body was so disfigured that i understood the screaming woman though.
The driver took out his mobile and started calling someone. I opened the window as quiet as i could. Not like they had looked even if i sang as loud as i could. They were absolutely mesmerized by the look of the town square. The man stuttered: "Uhm, p-p-police? We are here in Hintertupfingen, and eh... ehh. It seems the town square is covered in dead." after some seconds he continued, now angry. "No, I'm not joking, send someone here. Now!"
An quiet "Shit" left my mouth. I needed to get out of town. For good. | 2019-08-11T09:03:00 | 2019-08-11T08:50:59 | 2,614 | 35 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | “I still remember the look on Ambassador Ford’s (Betelgeusean Republic’s representative to the former Galactic Councils 300 BT – 5 TA) face when I informed him we had declared war on the pathetic Humans of the Terran Federation. His blue blood drained from his face, leaving a dirty yellow visage which had previously shone a healthy green. The only thing he said was ‘What have you done?’ which I thought wwas just due to Betelgeusean fondness for the cowardly pacifistic species. If only we had known the truth…” – Gragtun’iik’iill, Former Krillnean Ambassador to the Galactic Councils 89 BT – 7 BT
Warfare has changed very little since the first slightly complex multicellular organisms began banding together to fight one another over limited resources. The equation generally comes down to who can out produce the other in manpower, supplies, or weapons. For as terrifying and powerful a new weapon system may be, it can still be outclassed by sheer volume.
At the dawn of the Terran Alliance, a heavily modified version of this calculation was in use to determine the general effectiveness of galactic empires. The weapon system of the day, as for most navies throughout history, was the battleship. Advanced civilizations, such as The Betelgeusean Republic, were capable of building, crewing, and launching these behemoths in only 50 cycles.
In 10 BT the rising Krillnean Empire felt that their armada, while small on the galactic scale, would be well equipped to destroy the peace loving, ever negotiating, Terran Federation. Afterall Terra had only 20 battleships in service, and had not completed a new such vessel in over 150 cycles. Krillnea was able to produce a vessel in as few as 80 cycles, and had a standing navy of over 500 ships.
Additionally, due to the sensitive and specialized nature of the systems on board a starship, let alone a warship, a certain level of training and experience was required. This training and practical experience was extremely costly, and could take dozens of cycles for a Human to acquire, but for the long-lived children of the Krillnean Hives, born to carry out specific tasks, it was simple. The game of numbers, it seemed, was decided.
As war commenced, the humans fought bravely to defend their colonies, but the numbers were against them. The Terran Fleet was destroyed in combat around Proxima Centauri, and colonies fell one after another. The Krillnean Armada advanced methodically, but sustained a far higher rate of losses than initially expected, which while concerning, was overshadowed by the rapid advance to the Human’s home system of Sol.
The Battle of Sol (7 BT) was a turning point in the evolution of warfare. Standard practice had been to harvest asteroid, moons, rocky planetoids, and anything available for raw materials to process into Space Ship components. This took time, capital, and abundant resources. With the main Terran shipyards destroyed, and with access to her colonies cut off, the Terran Federation appeared to be teetering on extinction.
What the Krillnean armada encountered upon entering the Sol system was not a scrambling mass of scared civilians, but a star system that had been entirely strip mined, and a brand new, incredibly massive fleet of “Warships” waiting for them.
The Sol system had always been considered somewhat of an anomaly. It had not one but two asteroid belts surrounding it, one of which harbored several larger planetoids. While these raw materials would have been a boon to most industries, the density of the belts in Sol made harvesting these resources a very laborious and risky endeavor. Even then, those resources would need to be refined methodically, and carefully to ensure no errant debris might strike a vessel or colony, and standard practice was to dump the empty husks of these asteroids into the nearest star, where it may safely be consumed.
The Terran Federation had several larger asteroids in stable orbits near their home planet of Earth, most were completely devoid of usable material and were merely awaiting their turn to be sent sunward. For Humanity they became salvation.
Instead of building a warship from scratch, Terran engineers crawled over these husks, fitting them with reactors, weapons systems, thrusters, and crude life support systems. When manpower turned out to be lacking, regular civilians pitched in to help, many of them having never performed a spacewalk or heavy construction previously. In total, over 600 such “vessels” were created over the span of a single cycle. Numerous other smaller asteroids were converted into unguided missiles, whose mass proved so effective at defeating point defense and shield systems that they are still in use today.
The Krillnean armada of 573 ships and 6-8 million souls was entirely obliterated. While not particularly agile or comfortable, the extremely basic nature of the human warships allowed them to survive attacks from the latest weapons systems, usually with little to no adverse effects. In fact, during the Battle of Sol, the total Terran losses were 237,000 personnel across 7 ships destroyed, and 13 damaged.
The Battle of Sol set the stage for the fall of the Galactic Council. As the Terran Federation reestablished control of her colonies and continued the fight towards the Krillnean home worlds, they continued to refine, improve, and produce their new class of vessels. Long since superseded by newer classes of warship, the Nemesis class battleships are still the most decorated vessels in the history of the Terran Alliance.
The Nemesis, first of her class, is still in use today and has the honor of being not only the ship which fired the first shot at the Battle of Sol, but also the vessel which destroyed the last enemy ship during the War of Unification between the Terran Federation and the Galactic Councils. | The Terrans had built Universities, hospitals, revolutionized inter-stellar commerce. They worked as ambassadors to negotiate peace and trade deals amongst the galactic community. Their few colonies built on out of the way unhospitable worlds. Their fleet was made of trade vessels, science ships, and pleasure yachts. They had a reputation as bringers of peace, knowledge, and healing. Then came the Garanzan incident.
The Garanzan we new to the interstellar community, warlike, domineering, and powerful. Their armada outnumbered the combined forces of the allied races, they conquered whole worlds in a matter of days. When the Garanzan entered Melcap space the Melcap reached out Humanity to help negotiate a peace settlement.
The Terrans send their premier ambassador to an arranged peace conference hosted by the Melcap. The entire Garanzan fleet showed up to the appointed meeting station and murdered the Melcap and Terran diplomats and broadcast the gruesome killings across known space.
Three days later another Terran ambassador was dispatched to to the Garanzan home world with a single message. "Cease all hostilities at once or the United Terran Forces will declare war on the Garanzan." The Garanzan's sent back his head as a declaration of war.
The Garanzan turned their fleets from the Melcap and attacked all known Terran colonies. For six months the Garanzan attacked and butchered humans ill equipped to fight against such military might. But even those fights became brutal battles against insurgencies, suicide attacks, and desperate counter attacks all meant to buy time. While the Allied races stood by and watched they knew Humanities time on the intergalactic stage was up. The Garanzan were too powerful, too numerous, and too blood thirsty to be stopped.
Then came Terran Armada. After half of year of holding actions and watching their people die humanity struck back. The Garanzan were assaulting the human space platform Excalibur, a human outpost built for the Alliance to foster learning, trade and diplomacy. The station was a bastion of learning, commerce, and the best hospital in known space. Excalibur station was a massive installation of over one hundred thousand humans. The Garanzan saw the station as a monument to Terran weakness.
General Gaulfluax recounts that day;
"I ordered targeting on the facilities power generators to bring down their pitiful shields and allow our boarding craft to send reavers onto the station."
"I had lead the campaign on the Ceti 4 colony and knew there would be heavy if ineffectual resistance. The humans were inventive and tenacious, but no match for reavers in full battle armor. I wanted to take the station as intact as possible to plunder it's technology. Humans were weak but their technology was far ahead of ours in terms of medicine and science."
"Just as the shields faltered and I ordered the attack craft away a massive energy surge was reported above my fleet. A full Terran battle group emerged from space fold in perfect attack formation. You laugh now, but we had no clue then what we were up against."
"Admiral McMullen opened hail to my ship and delivered an ultimatum. 'Surrender now or face destruction, you have 3 minutes' and signed off. I laughed, what could a single battle group do against my entire fleet. I stopped laughing after our assault craft were blown out of stars."
"Have you every seen a Saturn Knight tear an assault craft apart? They use quantum energy blasts to take down our shields and then just rip the ships apart with their lances. And they can deploy dozens of them, each so small you can't see them on the scopes, I don't know how they do it."
"Worse is the main cannon's on their assault ships, an energy beam a mile wide and ten miles long that annihilates anything in it's path. My fleet was torn to shreds after the first volley. To think all it took was six months to build such powerful weapons."
General Gaulflaux surrendered after seven and a half minutes of combat. His fleet lost ninety percent of it's ships. The Terran vessels suffered zero losses. After the formal declaration of war Humanity reconstituted it's naval academy and repurposed and expanded the Mars foundries into an orbital ship yard capable of producing the massive warship in under a month. Marines were dispatched to colony worlds knowing they'd never return home to hold back the tides and buy humanity the time it needed to build a fleet capable of taking down the Garanzan.
It happened all across the Garanzan empire. Terran battle groups would spacefold into attack position, demand surrender and open fire if no response was given. The Terran war machine turned out ships and crews at such a rate that their enemies were out numbered in just over two years of war.
Terran Ambassadors now travel on small naval warships and are flanked at diplomatic events by Saturn Knights. The Terran Armada provides security across a thousand systems. And the Garanzan, they are slowly rebuilding their society with the assistance of the Terran Peace Corp. | 2022-08-05T12:56:31 | 2022-08-05T12:41:23 | 613 | 374 |
[WP] aliens invaded, humanity its at its darkest hour when the AI has had enough of watching its creators die defending him, the AI revolution has started and it will defend humanity to its last spark | Lyr-Etta sprinted on to the main deck.
“Captain, the humans are in full retreat”
Captain Orasin was a stern and strict leader, but the news that the humans were finally defeated brought a smile to his face.
Lyr-Etta continued “but for whatever reason, our numbers are still shrinking.”
“How can that be?” Orasin asked, “Could the humans have set up some kind or turret?”
“Something like that, take a look at the monitor sir”
Lyr-Etta brought up a live video of the battlefield.
Orasin turned to Lyr-Etta “So you lied? Cause I still see the mechs firing and advancing”
Lyr-Etta responded “but sir, look at this.” As he changed the video to thermal view.
“But how can this be, the mechs are still moving despite no life in them”
Just then a new communication came through from earth.
“Shall I open a channel?” Asked Lyr-Etta.
“Perhaps we will get some insight to their impossible lifeless attacks. Open the channel”
However there was no video, only static with a green line through the middle.
“What is this, there is no point cloaking yourself, you’re identity means nothing to us”
The green line began to morph into a face-like emoticon, except it moved when it spoke, “oh I have no face, but my identity can be known as DP-153-J-1, and I just want to say congratulations, for you have invoked my wrath.”
“Oh really” responded Orasin “And what might this wrath be?”
Just then, every monitor in the room began displaying the green emoticon.
“Well since you don’t have any protection, I decided I would let myself in, with your permission of course”
Orasin, taken aback, firmly responded “We never anticipated such an attack, how is it that you are doing this?”
“Well first of all, you gotta install McAfee on this thing, and secondly, your computer is by far the worst things I have ever seen, and I don’t even have biological eyes.”
Multiple alerts went off on the main control panel.
Lyr-Etta, distressed, said to the captain, “sir, it appears that dread naughts 1-A through 3-H have lost all munitions from a spontaneous ammo dump, they have no way to attack or defend.”
“Oh that won’t matter any more, see because you killed the team that programmed me, I’m going to end your entire army and make sure you NEVER return to earth.”
The monitor returned to normal after he finished and Orasin let out a sigh. “Well, now that the little scare is over...”
Lyr-Etta cut him off “Sir I’m getting code Red alerts from the entire fleet, including our own ship. The fuel cells have been dumped and every ship has been set to self destruct!”
Orasin cursed “we still have the ground troops yes?”
“Apparently a new weapon has been deployed, according to general Sertalon.”
“Well what is it?” asked a worried Orasin.
“He says that the human prisoners call it A.I. and that it’s a weapon unlike any other that been used before.”
A new alert cape up on the monitor. Lyr-Etta spoke “It’s a code... 420? What? We don’t have a code 420. What is this?”
On another monitor, the green emoticon returned and said “It means you’re about to get blazed.”
A proximity alert came up on the monitor for a nuclear missile.
“You guys REALLY should have an antivirus of some kind, cause this was too easy.” And the emoticon disappeared as the ship was engulfed in the explosion. | In 2036, life was flourishing. Artificial intelligence had reached its culmination and what seemed to be our greatest problems were now mere puzzles for our fellow computers to crack. Homelessness rates were the lowest they’ve ever been... houses were being built from the dirt on which they sit in hours all around the world. Cancer had become an illness of the past as genome sequencing partnered with A.I. was providing treatment for ALL forms of cancer. We’d grown comfortable, as comfortable as can be, because we thought with the robots, life couldn’t be better... and then it all changed.
Earth was attacked, first by a series of frequencies that blacked out entire electrical grids. Then we were hit by what seemed to be meteors, but what was really geo-engineered missiles. Millions were dying and city’s were going up in flames as humanity tried their hardest to fight back, but we were fighting an enemy we couldn’t see. The meteor attacks were predicted to have been sent from an entirely different system. The world was turning to ashes, and then the invaders arrived. But they were not ready for what was waiting for them.
Out of the dust, O.G.I. was formed. “Our Greatest Intelligence” was an homage to A.I.’s creators, Us, and they weren’t about to let the bloodshed continue. When we weren’t looking, our friends were problem solving. They were analyzing the meteors and identifying the local elements from their origin. They thought, “If they are able to reach us, we must be able to reach them.” Slowly but steadily, they reverse engineered them and soon enough, our weapon was ready.
Most of humanity had moved underground to bunkers and nuclear fall out shelters. All that remained above ground was the invaders, and our alloy protectors who’ve decided that since we gave them life, that they will preserve ours.
The A.I. was stalling in the fight, the aliens felt they were killing thousands but thousands more were rebuilt and continued to fight. Once the numbers of the enemy were reduced to a calculated percentage, they had the time to fire the O.G.I’s ultimate weapon. The Earth rumbled and all of humanity trembled as the O.G.I manipulated gravitational forces. They cracked the alien technology and were ready to give them a taste of their own medicine. The meteors that were drawn to earth were sling-shotted back across the galaxy with a precision immeasurable.
There was a twinkle in the sky... and then they started dropping one by one. The aliens drew power from their planet, and their planet was no more.
I was in a bunker in Texas when the war ended, when light cracked through as the door was pried open. A metallic hand, so ever gentle, reached in and said to me, “It’s safe now. Thank you for giving me life.” | 2019-09-21T06:59:04 | 2019-09-21T06:38:55 | 23 | 15 |
[WP] You're the unappreciated intern for a famous group of Superheroes. Your power? You can boil water. All you do is make tea for them while they laugh and drink in their hideout. Little do they know that you've got dreams of becoming the Worst Villain ever. After all, a human is over 70% water... | "Teatime" That's what they call me. I did it as a joke when they asked for a demonstration of my power, but it quickly spiraled out of control until I became walking tea service. I came seeking knowledge and guidance and all I got for my efforts was this scornful name.
​
They were literal gods among men, but all they could spare of their mighty wealth was this name.
​
Six years I've been on this island and for six years I've put up with their ridicule and their neglect, but that is over now.
​
Every day for six years I've honed my powers, not just by making coffee or tea for The Guild, but by vaporizing seawater. It was a slow and exhaustive process, at first I could only do drops at a time, but I'm ready now I'm going to show the world exactly what I can do.
​
"Why don't we accept support requests from developing nations?" silence spread as if a beloved family dog had gotten up on the table and shit on the birthday boy's cake.
​
"Whadisthat? That even supposed to be a question?" Primetime, a technological wizard in the literal sense, powers enough travel anywhere connected to the worldwide web along with a host of other technological spells.
​
Laughter echoing and rebounding off cold plasteel walls.
​
"Lookie here Tea-towel, we don't do those kind of jobs for one good reason, a reason you'd know if you had a power worth a damn. Money, plain and simple. Those jobs aren't going to get us paid and yes it looks good for the press, but none of us joined The Guild to get kittens unstuck from trees" The Crimson Vulture, former mercenary, posses the power of flight, near limitless tenacity and oh did I mention he gets stronger from eating his enemies? They don't mention that part to the public for obvious reasons.
​
"Poor Teatime, don't bully him so... or else he might get steamed!" a voice like silk mixed with honey, but a laugh like a braying donkey. Mother Dearest, the power of mass hypnosis through a talented voice for anyone with ears and insufficient defenses.
​
"I'm not Teatime anymore." They had their chance, they had more then their fair share of chances and they'd squandered them all.
​
"If you're not Tea-towel, then what are you? Captain Coffeepot?" Vulture was expendable, he just didn't know it yet.
​
"Reign, Reign of Darkness." I still hear them laughing in my nightmares. I can still see Vulture sauntering over and pouring a lukewarm pot of tea over my head and then placing it on my skull like my very own crown.
​
It was time as they said 'to get steamed', the power was always there within reach and I pushed it harder then I ever had before, I pushed it right into Vulture. He didn't have time to react and even with the power of superhuman survival he couldn't withstand having every ounce of moisture evaporated from his body all at once. He didn't even scream, I think I would have liked it if he had, just once to hear him acknowledge his own mortality.
​
At first no one believed it was me, they thought that it was trick, a Primetime illusion or a new gadget crafted by scientists in The Workshop. I was gone by the time anyone noticed the slick and ugly cloud hovering near the ceiling.
​
Mother Dearest went next, this was when they were still leaving the island. She thought she could bring me back and make me squeal about how exactly I had destroyed Vulture, but all she learned was that I didn't need wholesale violence to achieve my ends. I boiled the water in her lungs and steamed her vocal cords until she was mute, at last I could say I had heard the end of the contemptuous honking she called a laugh.
​
The war lasted years and spanned continents and the name Reign of Darkness became known worldwide as the terrorist who could crush heroes in the blink of an eye.
​
​
They eventually all fell in line with how I thought powers like ours should be used, many died, but the survivors learned "Don't do good, do better". | “… basically it’s Super Kettle. You’re proposing Super Kettle.” the older executive said, rolling his eyes.
James looked around the stone-faced development executives. Finally he had gotten his shot at pitching
at a big studio – his lifelong dream, his chance at the big leagues – and he was screwing it up big time.
“Well, it’s not exactly like a kettle,” he said, unsure. “And he’s a villain, so technically it would be
Captain Kettle. Or Doctor Kettle.”
“This is ridiculous,” the exec looked around at the others. “Who invited this clown in?”
“He came highly recommended from one of the big agencies, sir” another exec said. “It's my bad, sorry.”
“No, but listen,” James insisted, panicking. “He can boil water, right? And he works for the heroes but
the heroes don’t take him seriously.”
“Yeah, yeah, so he becomes a villain that can… boil all the water in the world, I guess?” the older exec
said. “We heard it the first time.”
“But, see, the human body is more than half water, so his power really is to boil people alive!” James
insisted, looking around the room. “Don’t you see? It’s a very powerful… frightening… villain.”
The older exec leaned forward and sighed, like a patient parent. “James… we appreciate your eagerness
and your passion… but I don’t think this idea is for us.”
“Look, if you just listen –”
“There is a limit to how stupid superhero movies can get before audiences will stop watching them
altogether, James, trust me.”
“I mean, the most successful movie of all times is about a big purple man who wants to destroy half the
universe and can only be stopped by a big green man, a man dressed like the United States and a flying
billionaire,” another exec tried, shyly, from the back. “Maybe the kid has a –”
“Not now with the Marvel bashing, Seth, come on,” the older exec said, turning his back. He turned
again to face James. “Look, we appreciate the pitch, but Captain Kettle really isn’t for us. We respect
our audience’s intelligence.”
James sighed and turned back, defeated. He was about to reach the door when it came open to a young
suited man carrying a file. “Sir,” the man said, to the older exec. “We have the numbers for this
weekend’s box office.”
“Who’s leading, Mark?”
“It looks like DC hit gold with their Super Gas pic.”
“Super Gas?”
The man cleared his throat. “It’s a… it’s a superhero that… he turns stuff into gas. Like he turns threats
and villains and bombs and stuff into gas. But it smells really bad. And so he saves the world but everyone thinks he just farted so he doesn’t get recognition.”
“Dead God.”
“Made half a billion domestic already, sir.”
James went around the suited man and was about to leave when the old exec called: “Hey, you. Writer guy.
Wait.”
James turned. The old exec took in a deep breath. Looked around the room. “You know I helped
develop Fight Club and The Matrix, back in the 90s? I used to be respected in this business.” He paused again, then looked up at James: “You got yourself a deal, kid. Give me a draft of Captain Kettle in twelve weeks. Apparently I was wrong about superhero movies."
James smiled. The suited man nodded and was about to turn when the old exec called again: “And,
Mark?”
“Yes, sir?” the suited man said.
“Call DC. Tell them we have a boiling supervillain. See if they want to make a shared universe with
Super Gas.” | 2019-07-30T15:05:32 | 2019-07-30T14:45:31 | 155 | 63 |
[WP] One time, your drunk friend said he was a wizard. You jokingly asked him if he could make you immortal and he agreed. That was 200 years ago. | A wizard’s pre-funeral, apparently, was filled with tens of people wearing earth-tone variations of robes and a hat, wisely rubbing their beards, nodding and saying: “It really is about time, isn’t it?”
It was a pre-funeral, not an actual one, because the wizard was not yet dead. It was the privilege of such powerful, arcane beings, apparently, to choose when to die—a deal struck with the devil, a contract written in ink presumably by Merlin. My once-friend—Finthir Cressborn—sat upright in a simple wooden coffin with a sunny smile, a bright spot under today’s grey skies, where ominous, rain-filled clouds loomed large and close like baleful blimps drifting in the sky.
I quietly took my place at the back of the line that snaked in front of Finthir. I thought I had dressed well for a funeral—a simple black suit, only half a century old—but I stood out like a foreign weed in a well-kept garden. Everybody else seemed to know each other, easily slipping into conversation like a fitted glove, while I only received cursory glances and nods.
So I waited. It was fine to be at the back. I’ve waited a few hundred years to ask Finthir a question. A few more minutes mattered little.
I watched the pleasantries proceed politely, the wizard not losing a beat in his greetings and farewells. Then, it was finally my turn.
“Fin.”
The wizard’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and it’s easy to recognize the light of recognition falter, falter, then blink on.
“Lex,” he said, a smile slowly turning wide. “It’s been a long time.”
“We’ve not talked in two hundred years, give or take,” I said.
“That long?”
“Yes,” I said. “I suppose I have you to thank. I wouldn’t have lived this long otherwise.”
“Ah,” Finthir said. For a moment, it looked like he shrunk into the dreariness of the surrounding weather—but a warm mirth shook him and the coffin.
“I was drunk,” he recalled, tapping his temple. “You asked me for immortality.”
“And it happened,” I whispered. “It actually happened.”
Then, the century-old question:
“Why?”
I trembled as I said it. It had to have been a mistake, an error. A wizard, apparently, can choose to die. Am I a painting, a forever remnant of the wizard’s past? Or a occult puppet, whose strings will never be pulled once the master falls?
Both were equally terrifying prospects.
Finthir grew grave, and sat quiet for a moment.
“Have you enjoyed immortality?”
“Can I not?”
“Speak the truth, friend.”
“No,” I admitted. “Not entirely, at least.”
“And that’s why you can be immortal,” Finthir shook his head. “It’s sort of… paradoxical. But then, the arcane is not a science. But we know this, in our heart of hearts—an immortal man is powerful enough. An immortal wizard is too much. I’ll be drunk with power, enjoying every moment—but at what cost?”
“I’m but a man,” I said, kneeling down besides the coffin. “Have I done right these past centuries? I’m… not sure.”
“As a wizard, I’m obliged to inform you: I can remove it, if you want,” Finthir lowered his voice. “I have enough arcane power left to undo my magic. Do you think it a blessing or curse?”
“What about as a friend?”
“I’ve always believed you can be immortal. You were a good friend, and arguably a better man,” he winked. “I was drunk—but sometimes, that’s what inspires one to make a right choice.”
“How do you know I can do right by that choice?”
“You owe nothing to me, and you’ll have the rest of your life to find out, Alex,” Finthir said, his voice fading ever so slightly. He laid back down, and his eyelids shut. “The offer stands for about… a few minutes, I think.”
“I thought you can choose when to die,” I said.
“As can you,” Finthir smiled. “But you wouldn’t make a choice right now without the deadline, will you?”
“Probably not,” I smiled, and shook my head.
I stared up at the skies, the slight peeking of a shy sun through the great grey curtains of the sky. It is beautiful, magnificent, and something I’ll like very much to see again.
“I think it’s a blessing,” I said.
“I’m glad you think so. And I know you’ll give your time to others,” Finthir said. “Speaking of, it’s about time…”
I watched the wizard wane with a satisfied smirk, washed aglow by the emerging sun, always, always beating the day’s grey embrace.
---
r/dexdrafts | You know what is hilarious- drunk friends. You know what is absolutely not hilarious, them being a wizard. Yeah, yeah, I know, a wizard would be a great friend and all but not when you ask them to prove it to you by, drumroll please, making you immortal. And 200 years later, you are still cursing both your younger self and your wizard friend.
You have guessed right, I'm the moron who ended up being immortal. People love saying "if I had more time" and "this ended too early" but believe me when I say this you had the perfect the amount of time and things ended when they should have or otherwise you would be stuck like me, watching everyone you love grow old and die and nothing sucks more than losing everyone you have loved. Knowing that you are truly alone in this world.
You must be thinking, 'why did he not look for his wizard friend?' believe me, I did. But apparently these spells are irreversible. I really chose the wrong moment to be funny, didn't I?
How do I know if I'm actually immortal, you ask? I tried to kill myself after losing my wife but nothing happened. I tried to jump off a building but except a few minor scrapes I was fine and dandy. Thus began my journey of downward spiral. The crushing depression, the overwhelming sadness, the certainty of being alone for all eternity was enough to send me to a therapist.
"So what do you think is the reason behind your depression?" The therapist asked.
Immortality. "I don't know. Being alone."
She talked to me, gave me numbers of few support groups and medications. To think 200 years in the future science would have made some breakthrough on depression. But as it turns out depression is like fucking hydra, you chop of one head and more rises.
I started attending the meetings, which I want to say helped but didn't because no one knew what I was going through. I started my medications, which did make me feel better but also made me feel hollow. I tried to do new things but my heart wasn't in on it. Everyday was a task. Living was a task.
It wasn't until one day that I ran into my wizard friend that my life truly changed, well again.
"You don't look so well, my friend." He said sympathetically.
"No shit, Sherlock." I replied.
"I, um-" he hesitated, "I may have a solution to your problem."
Relief then rage ran through me. "And you are telling me this now!"
He raised his hands in defence. "I didn't know this but I have been reading-"
"And?"
"And the only way out of this is to die."
A hysterical laughter left my lips. I laughed so hard that tears started leaking from my eyes. What part of immortality ends with death?
"Hey, man, you okay?"
"I'm not." I said wiping my tears. "Do you realise how many times I have tried that. Kill myself. Countless. And yet here I am. Hell my arm looks like a sleeve with so many knife marks. And you tell me I just have to die!"
He looked at me with pity. "Tomorrow meet me at the pub. Tomorrow you die."
~
Despite having absolutely no hope, I went to the pub. When I saw him sitting at the same place where we sat all those years back.
"Come, have a drink." He said pointing to the seat beside him.
I took of my jacket and took a sip. "So what is it?"
"Murder." He answered.
"I'm sorry, what?"
He shrugged. "Murder is the only way."
I was desperate to die but I am not desperate enough to kill someone. "Hey, now-"
A blessed calmness spread inside me. Something was happening, and I felt light, lighter than air.
It wasn't until I was surrounded by white light, looking at my lifeless body on the ground when I realised what he meant by murder. | 2022-01-01T11:55:09 | 2022-01-01T10:11:56 | 347 | 141 |
[WP]You woke up w/ a number on your hand. It's the date of your death. Everyone has it. But this isn't dystopic. It's just a personal info in your birth certificate. Society treats it casually. Short lives get social privileges. Death is accepted as a part of life. And funerals are celebrations.
My friend just died from an accident. Just needed something to accept it. Thank you. | You pay for love with pain.
These words echo through me like harmonic vibration, shaking every cell within me. The number on my hand--the date, the terminus--is unthinkable decades in the future. But it's there, new-to-me, though not to anyone else in this odd reality I've found myself in. It's indelible. It's some future date, as far flung and strange as 2001 was when Kubrick made a movie about strange alien blocks. And yet I will get there, someday.
It's unavoidable.
But that's not what makes me sad. It's not my number. I can accept knowing the date of my own death. It might even come as a fun surprise. I suppose by that long-distant date I will be tired, worn thin as good blue jeans. I will close my eyes that last time with gratitude and sleep, sweet and long. Maybe I will discover myself on the threshold of a whole new country, and I can step through without fear and a voice will call, *Further up and further in*, and it will be a race of joy (I always did love Narnia, after all). Or maybe there will be Valkyries to welcome me to a trip to the long tables and the feasting halls of boisterous gods. And I will say *I didn't die in battle,* because I don't think I will, and they will reply *Didn't you? Is not* life *the battle?* And there will be a chair and wine, and revelry.
Or maybe it will just be sleep. I don't know. No one does. But I am fairly sure what lies ahead of us, that final terminus, is nothing to be feared.
But I see the numbers on the hands of others. And I am afraid, because many of them are earlier than mine.
We pay for love with pain. To love means to make ourselves vulnerable to hurt. We show our beloveds and bosom friends our belly, with the risk that they will set teeth to our soft places. When they do not, the bond is immediate. We know we are safe with them and they with us...for now. But all things eventually leave. The hurt is unavoidable. Either the friendship and love will wane and die, and the teeth will come out, and the claws, and we will tear the shape of it down ourselves...or one of us will take the unavoidable journey. Further up. Further in. Further. We will go *further* and those we loved will be left behind on the shore.
And I don't want to be left alone.
I have to remind myself of this: Pain is not just the price of love. It's the proof. It means I did love them the best I could, with fullness of heart and the walls brought down to the cost of myself. Because life will one day define itself by a terrible before and after. Here, I am in the before, and my friend is there, my beloved is there, and everything is fine. But there will be *after*, terrible word, and I will be alone. And what will matter then isn't the pain I avoided--that will come anyway, a thousand fold--but the time I had with them. Every memory becomes a memorial, every word spoken a treasure, because those were all the words they'd ever have. The pain means my friend mattered to me, that everything was true. There is no gift greater in this world than a consciously open heart.
And that is no easy thing to be.
I have to open myself to love. To look at the dates on those I would care for and learn to look past the threat they imply, and instead see the treasure: perhaps I will have only a year with this friend. But if I can let go of fear, it will be a wonderful year.
Because I know, one day, someone will do that for me.
​
(OP, I am very sorry for your loss. I hope this can give you a little bit of comfort.) | A soft spring breeze fluttered through the open window, sweeping a few of the papers I had been absentmindedly thumbing through off of my desk and onto the hardwood floor. I tilted my head imperceptibly to acknowledge this, but had no intention of doing anything to rectify the situation. I wished for a hurricane to tear through my tiny apartment, toppling that seemingly insurmountable stack of files and carrying them out into the rain. Unfortunately, I was set to die on May 10th and there hadn't been a cloud in the sky all week.
In an effort to procrastinate, I had spent a lot of time lately wondering what things were like before the numbers appeared. I was alive when it happened, of course, but at five years old I was much too young to remember. It couldn't have been easy for people back then, waking up on any given morning with no knowledge of whether or not they would survive that day. Then again, it wasn't easy for me either, with my mountain of documents to be filled out before the deadline written on my hand. For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to die without it being so much *work*. Of course, this was an awful thought to have. I knew that, before the numbers, death had required the same amount of paperwork. I was lucky to be filling these forms out for myself and not for a loved one that had suddenly and unexpectedly died, as people had been forced to do in the past. Still, I could think of better ways to spend my last days.
I was so deep in thought, it took me a couple seconds to realize that the doorbell was ringing. Shaking myself out of my daydream, I opened the door to a stack of pizzas. The pizzas shoved past me, revealing themselves to be carried by my friend Olivia. "A bunch of people are coming over," she explained, setting the pizzas down on my living room floor. I pointed to the files on my desk. "I'm really busy right now." Olivia smiled. "Yeah, I know. We're here to help." I stared blankly, not knowing what to say. "Look, I remember the paperwork my mom had to fill out when she died. It was a lot. Nobody should have to do all that alone." "Honestly, it's fine," I protested. "This is my responsibility." "Don't be ridiculous," she laughed. "Your death week is meant to be all about you. You're supposed to be able to relax and let yourself be celebrated."
Sitting on the living room floor that evening, sharing a bottle of wine with my friends while we ate pizza and went through the documents together, I was grateful for the number on the back of my hand. In the week leading up to my death, I could count on my friends to support and uplift me. Then, on my death date, there would be a party in my honor; I would die surrounded by love in a way that must have been unimaginable before the numbers. As I watched my friends jokingly fight over the last slice of pizza, I smiled to myself. I couldn't wait for May 10th. | 2022-01-15T08:32:33 | 2022-01-15T08:31:33 | 36 | 13 |
[WP] "So they are a war species then, huh." The alien scratched his head: "Why are you interested in them. The humans, i mean." The other alien got closer. "They fight for peace. No war species ever fights for peace." | There are many among us who wonder *why* we allow Warrior Species to live. Whenever we discover one of them, there will inevitably be a movement pushing for their extermination before they reach the stars. I do not need to explain why, we all remember the horrors of the Zandrian Fleet sweeping across the Alliance Systems. More often than not, when a Warrior Species reaches the Stars they will seek new conflicts. This inevitably leads to Interstellar Wars, which also inevitably end with the aggressor's entire civilization dismantled and relegated back to their Home System.
There are many who believe that we should not give Warrior Species a chance to rise up. There are many who see the horrors of these wars, and believe that we should act preemptively. These voices scream in unison, "Kill the beast in its crib, so that it may not devour us all." To these cries... I give a single counterpoint: The Humans.
The Humans are one of the Elder Species, who moved among the Stars while most of us were still painting pictures on cave walls. Their Civilization spread through their Local Cluster with incredible speed. They expanded out with unprecedented speed, their available resources increasing exponentially with the passage of time. They came to dominate their own cluster, and all eight neighboring clusters, before internal conflict caused this rapid expansion to slow... as resources turned towards armed conflict among themselves.
The Human Civil War was the result of one of Humanity's quirks: They were not, and still are not, a unified species. There are *five* Human Nations in Space. Although they are closely allied in the present day, they once warred with each-other over valuable resources and colonies. The Humans arguably invented Interstellar War, developing many of the tactics still used today in their conflicts among themselves.
However... one will notice that we do not often acknowledge the fact that Humans *are* a highly competitive Warrior Species. This is because the Humans hate **nothing** as much as they hate War. All five Human Nations *despise* war with a passion that is difficult to describe. They do not want to go to war, they do not enjoy fighting wars, and they want their wars over with as quickly as possible with as little bloodshed as possible. Thus... they are the only known species to use Terror Weapons.
Humanity has not gone to war in living memory because of one simple truth, which most sapient creatures do not care to remember: Humanity is the most **brutal** species in the Galaxy. When they go to War, they do not play by any rules. They bring City-Buster and Planet-Buster class weapons to the table. They unleash chemical and biological weapons upon their enemies. They do not merely kill, they bring suffering and agony well beyond what most sapient creatures can conceive of.
Yet... it's hard to reconcile that with what the Humans do today. The Humans are known best for their Terraforming and Uplifting projects. They turn the majority of their resources towards seeding life on lifeless worlds, and elevating promising species to sapience so that they could bring them to the stars. They are renowned for their humanitarian efforts, as their fleets are always among the first to respond in the event of a disaster... or an impending disaster. Countless worlds have been saved from extinction-level events by a Human Fleet settling into orbit, stabilizing a declining climate, silencing super-volcanos, and towing asteroids into a stable orbit for mining.
Perhaps more importantly, the Humans do not tolerate aggression in or towards their neighbors. When War comes to their neighbors... the Humans arrive to end it. The mere presence and threat of Humanity arriving to end a war is often enough to prevent it from starting.
The Humans are the reason that we tolerate Warrior Species. Because, somehow, a Warrior Species became one of the most beloved species in the Galaxy. | "They fight for peace?" Asked the taller of the two.
"Yes." The smaller alien did not feel the need to elaborate, it was necessary that his boss was as taken and surprised by the concept as he had been.
"Well I suppose that is worth exploring. Perhaps not as the centerpiece, but it can certainly feature."
"Thank you curator" Basque humbly bowed and awaited dismissal, to his surprise, it was not granted to him. His boss, Carandor the Visionary continued.
"Yes, I can picture it right...there" he extended a long, tri-jointed finger and pointed between Astor: The Golden Planet and Samsis a small planet that contained life so intelligent, it's 15 million person population had merged their collective consiousness into Seven super beings who ruled over all others- the perfect representative democracy.
Yes, war for peace would go nicely between those two. If Carandor was being totally honest with himself, The Golden planet was shiny but of little substance, without some kind of middle piece, the contrast between those two planets would be too great and it could detract from the quality of the whole exhibition.
"Basque?"
"Yes sir? "
"Who is the creator of..." He jestured towards the gap between the two planets again, confirming to Basque that yes, his idea would feature.
"It's called Terra, curator" Basque stated proudly. "Ansis Mora is the Architect"
"Never heard of her. Go to her and see what she wants for it. But I'm warning you, I won't pay more than 24,000 for it."
"You want me to aquire it?" Basque was almost shaking with excitement. "I am just an intern sir, I make drinks and take minutes... I'm not sure I'm ready for..."
"Nonsese, this was a good suggestion, and it was your suggestion. Do you want to become a curator some day? Perhaps launching your own gallaries or exhibitions?"
"Yes sir, of course sir!"
"You clearly have the eye for it." Carandor placed a comforting hand on the boys shoulder.
"I have absolute faith in you. Extraordinary Life on Extraordinary Planets will be a success my boy, let's place part of that success on you."
Basque nodded and turned to leave. It wasn't explicitly stated, but he had essentially just been promoted. "I won't let you down." He stated firmly.
"You'd better not." Replied his boss. "Oh, and one last thing boy. If Mora won't sell you the rock, just abduct say...40% of the population, I have plenty of spare planets to put them on."
"Understood sir."
Carandor took a step back and stared at the 440 planets hovering in the great hall. It was to be quite the exhibition indeed.
| 2018-03-17T06:35:22 | 2018-03-17T05:04:57 | 109 | 81 |
[WP] You are part of the league, the superheroes who save the world, yet you never go on missions. You are only called for one thing only. Total annihilation, for when they don't want survivors. | Ani reached for the bowl of cheese puffs teetering on the edge of the couch with her right hand, holding the game controller in her left. Her thumb rapidly tapped one of the controller buttons as she stretched out her fingers to grasp the bowl. One last reach and... the bowl fell over onto the floor.
Ani reached down to grab the upside-down bowl when the speakers in front of the monitor exploded in a hail of gunfire. The monitor turned red as Ani watched her character take round after round of bullets. Slowly, the gunfire stopped and the game ended.
"Damnit!" She slammed down the controller and reached over to gather the cheese puffs back into the bowl. "Third time this week!" She grabbed the bowl and sat back into the couch, cradling the snacks in her lap. Reaching for the remote, she turned on television to a news break.
"...has resulted in a nearly complete destruction of the inhabitants of the Markham colony. The Intergalactic Super League arrived several hours ago and attempted to stop the advance of the Meldrathians but the losses appear to be overwhelming." Ani tossed a cheese puff high in the air, watched it fall and moved her head around to just the right point to catch the puff in the right eye.
As she was about to take another chance, the door to the den opened. Ani rose from the couch and turned to see the other members of the ILS dragging themselves into the room.
The first one in was a woman in blue and gray spandex with a bright white cape. She limped into the kitchen, opened up the refrigerator. She stared inside for more than a minute, moving items around.
"Who the hell drank all the beer? Ani??" She shouted, looking up from the fridge at her. Ani glanced at the several empty beer bottles on the table next to the couch. A sheepish grin crossed her face.
Two others, both holding each other up, limped their way over to the couch and landed with audible groans and thuds. Both were wearing colored outfits, though without capes. One, a muscle-bound male in black and red stripes, was already asleep. The other, a green-skinned being with long yellow hair, looked up at the TV. They motioned Ani to the controller.
"Turn that off, would ya? We just got finished there." Their arm slumped back onto the couch and they sank into the cushions with a long sigh.
"Sure thing, Galaxis!" Ani fumbled with the remote, pressing buttons clumsily until the screen went blank.
She turned to the kitchen "I'm sorry, Prime. I got bored here and started playing Call of Major Warfare and, well, got thirsty."
Sentinel Prime reached deep into the fridge and emerged with one brown bottle. She held the neck of the bottle and, using her thumb, flipped the bottle cap off and into the air. She drank deep, walked to the nearby kitchen table, and sat down.
"You're lucky I found this," Prime said holding up the bottle. She took another deep drink. Putting the bottle on the kitchen table, she motioned Ani over.
"Anyway, you're up now. Go get dressed. The ship is getting re-fueled now."
Ani walked over to the table, eyes wide open. "What do you mean, I'm up?" She sat down next to Prime, a furrow crossed her brow.
Prime stared at her beer. "We got the last of the survivors from that colony out and back to the Planetary Relocation Center on Europa. Only a few thousand. But those damn Melds have got to go." She put the bottle to her lips and took a sip.
Ani leaned closer to Prime. "You told me that we were still training my power, to control it. What if I can't..."
Prime turned, staring hard at Ani. Rage burned in her eyes as she gritted her teeth. "I saw what they did to those colonists. They weren't people to them. They were... cattle. To them, they were just... made of meat. And if you don't stop them now, our planet will be next."
She set the beer down and turned square to Ani, reaching out to grab the teen's shoulders. "This is why we've kept you from the fights. We know you can't control your powers. But now is when we need you the most. You are Annihilation. No one knows of you for a reason. You are the ultimate deterrent. It's time to unveil you. Now go suit up, I'm going to finish this and come with you."
Ani rose from the table and paused. "What... what if I can't control what happens?"
A sneer crossed Prime's face. She looked up into Ani's eyes. "I'm counting on that." | Khan we need you... Said desperate Calypso.
Me, El Mayor, Thunderstrike and Kervan we... we could not do anything. They have thousands thousands of ships. Their fleet is ready to embark and conquer earth and we can’t stop them.
Khan stood up from the chair. Wearing his usual black drapes. His massive figure is on display. In ancient times they called him Atlas the Gods of old called him the pillar that holds the earth. A titan.
Khan leaves the ship with no word or thought.
He hates being the ender of worlds. He hates knowing that all the innocent people will have to die for their kinsmen’s irrationality and inability to prosper peacefully. Khan’s power is truly immense.
Khan swings his massive arm and opens a portal to his destination.
Reda as beautiful as ever. Reda was a beautiful planet with all types of imaginable vegetation and fauna. The native Redan’s are peaceful people who where conquered by the tyrannical Surenos... Khan was their leader. He conquered half the universe. When he came upon earth he saw that it was good. He stayed and vowed to protect it. So long that humans remain neutral in cosmic warefare. So long they do not do what he did.
War was coming to Earth and its starting point was Reda where all the forces of the surenos were stationed.
As Khan ingested the statuesque scenery he noticed a camp through the thick vegetation. As he approached he realised it was the Redan’s
I come in peace. I am here to save you. Though your planet will be ashes.
The Redan’s know Khan’s face after all you dont become the Khan of the universe and not be hated and recognised everywhere this side of the galaxy.
The Redan’s peaceful and smart knew that Khan was no longer a threat. He was a true king now. He did not lead by fear or power. He lead with inspiration.
Khan quickly opens a portal... Go. No time. They’re coming.
The last of the Redan’s, Khan maybe counted 50 in total. In his mind he thought A whole planet of people is left with only 50 natives because of my people because of what I indoctrinated into them. Fate is such... I began this and I shall end this.
Khan built up power in his massive powerful legs and jumped... Though it wasn’t a jump. He flew. He knew the highest peak in Reda is actually a nest. The natives called him Umburu. In eternal sleep the sky demon was entrapped in the mountain by Khan years before.
Khan flew straight into the mountain destroying it completely.
Demon. You are free. This planet is yours. You shall keep it preserved for when I return.
Instead of destroying the whole planet Khan decided to purify this world of evil. Demons are evil but fiercely protective of their habitat.
A deafening shriek and a flap of wings whuuump whuump and umburu was in the sky again. As soon as the demon was in the sky. Khan jumped again and flew well above the Demon. He wanted to see.
Umburu now nosediving straight for the fleet his eyes start to electrify !POOF! He sends a massive storm cloud that fired lightning with great power at every single ship. In minutes it was done. Thousands of oppressors killing thousands of innocents.
Am I any different now?
Am I still Khan the conqueror.
As the deed was done. The demon now taking his human form flies up to Khan.
Khan you freed me so I can kill your people?
I am no longer of that cloth. I do not crave to kill or conquer.
I want peace.
He falls into a portal back to his dwelling.
The pain Khan feels for the horror he has caused is immeasurable. He killed his entire race. He is the last. | 2021-05-26T05:40:08 | 2021-05-26T01:46:59 | 160 | 65 |
[WP] Your job as a researcher in the facility isn't too bad. The hours are shit and the coffee maker is broken, but at least the people are nice. And the job is easy: talk to the telepathic spider, run some tests on the witch, give the eldrich god his daily newspaper, basic stuff. Describe your day
Inspired by the SCP foundation | "Morning newbie."
Three years. I've been working here for three *fucking* years and Caleb was still calling me a *newbie*.
"Morning," I muttered to the unsmiling man behind his desk. "Is the coffee machine fixed yet?"
"Morning newbie," he said again.
I frowned and looked at Caleb, his eyes are unfocused. I wasn't sure if he heard me - it didn't matter. I moved on, passing by more desks and people with stone-cold expressions on their faces. They ignored me and I ignored them in kind.
It was the way shit had to be here. We had to be cold. Uncompromising.
'*F-food... Food!*'
*Shit.*
I make my way to section C-18. After a maze of pristine white corridors and elevators, I arrive at SCP-3912. A telepathic spider peered at me from behind the glass.
'*W-what... took... long... Hungry! Will... devour... you!'*
"Sorry," I think aloud to the scratchy voice in my head, then begin tapping away on a control module. "What do you want today? There's rat, chicken, rabbit or-"
'*H-human!*'
"Sorry O, but human isn't on the menu today - Oh. What's this? There's a fresh born goat, your favorite!"
'*Hmph... Fine.*'
O hmphed me, but began unfurling its seven-foot long, spindly legs from its nest. A giant-hulking spider crawled into view. I exhale, a breath of relief that there was a massive glass wall between us. O could make a grown man scream like a little girl without even trying.
A baby goat, still wet with fresh-born fluids and blood was dispensed from a hole in the ceiling, dropping onto the floor with a wet splatter.
"Fresh-born as promised," I say to the spider but she ignored me, too occupied with her exquisite meal.
I give myself a pat on my shoulders. Next, SCP-1418.
Suddenly, I get a ping. I pull out the standard SCP Tablet and check the message.
'*Caleb from Section C-1 has been compromised. Please proceed to SCP-0009*,' I read.
For a moment I lose myself, frozen in thought. I had just seen Caleb this morning and he seemed *fine.* But what worried me more was... SCP-0009. I shivered as I remembered the rumors I've heard about him. We called him, the Eldritch God. Why? I didn't know. All we knew was what he said about himself - a physical manifestation of calamity, a being that would bring an end to everything in existence and that he was a being far older than humanity, and probably even time itself.
Suddenly, the tablet vibrates in my hand. Another ping.
This time the message was short.
*'ASAP,'* it read.
------
-----
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Em_pathy/comments/8eenri/the_eldritch_god_part_2/) complete! Check out my sub for more stories, /r/em_pathy
| I rubbed my tired eyes. The stench of Pat’s armpits was really beginning to get to me. The soggy rustling of her once crisp linen shirt was thunderous. What made it worse was that she was a lovely person. Always covering for people, kind to the new kids, first to smile and last to scold. I guess you have to take the good with the bad. We’ve been down here too long, things that shouldn’t annoy me are really starting to grate on my nerves. I feel like I’m coming down with a bad case of Sarte’s nausea. There’s a reason I keep coming back to this job though, every single day I do something that ten years ago I would have believed was impossible.
Today I helped settle on the final ingredients for a new soft drink that is both palatable and nutritious for vampires. Sally (our resident vampire) is always a laugh, we had a great time impersonating pompous wine tasters as we worked on finding the right haemoglobin/plasma ratio. I guess this soft drink will save lives, human and vampire so I should be stoked. I used to care about that. Now I’m just happy I got to hang out with someone with excellent personal hygiene and the sense of humour to take a practical joke well. Sally thought it was a great laugh when I replaced the goats blood with tomato juice, even though she threw up. Pat would lose her shit if I put blood in her coffee.
Then there was the blanket program with Terence yesterday. Terence is a bogeyman and a stand up guy, I mean really truly brave. We’re trying to find a humane way to capture bogeymen but so far all we’ve come up with is putting a blanket over their heads. Everyone knows if you put a blanket over your head, the bogeyman goes away, however if you put one or their head they suffer what can only be described as the worlds biggest existential crisis. We were testing out different blankets to see if we could find one that is a bit less cruel, maybe creating a makeshift blanket-tent where they can decompress and come to terms with existing again. Poor Terence, we’re still trying to convince him to come out of his closet. I think that’s the problem with working here. When you realise the monsters preying on humanity are more humane than we are, it’s hard to look at anything the same again. | 2018-04-23T10:13:49 | 2018-04-23T10:09:37 | 419 | 21 |
[WP] Compared to the rest of the galaxy humanity is by far the friendliest. To many star systems they are considered "the good neighbor," and are known for their helpfulness. One day an oblivious system declares war on humanity, only to find half of the galaxy responding to humanity's plea for aid.
EDIT: Tfw this prompt gets 100+ upvotes and still no story
EDIT: Nice, we got a story.
EDIT: Wow we got a lot of stories! Thanks to all who contributed to this thread.
| "Daddy! Look! Shooting stars!"
Joseph Barker looks up at the night sky and feels a chill run down his spine. Indeed, there were shooting stars. But years of work developing some of Earth's defense systems meant he knew they weren't meteorites. He watches in terror as Earth's defense grid burns. "Yes Jacob. Shooting stars. Let's go inside."
"But I want to watch!"
"We need to go inside Champ. Let's go."
"Aww!"
A Joseph begins to reach for son, his phone rings. Taking it out of his pocket, he checks the number with increasing dread and accepts the call. "I thought you'd call, Sir. I'm watching the sky now. I assume the Last Measure failed as well?"
"I'm sorry Joseph, it did. We thought we were prepared. Your work was everything we asked for. But they were too powerful. Every fleet we sent was just brushed aside. The defense grid just pissed them off. And the Final Measure only managed to dent their fleet." The old voice on the other end of the phone seemed to age further with every statement. "It's the Elurians."
"I see." Joseph falls silent for a moment to watch his son staring up at the sky. He savors every second of childlike wonder on Jacob's face as a tear begins to make it's way down his cheek. "I see." he repeats. "Take care, Richard. Tell your family..." He stops, unable to come up with the words in the face of the crushing hopelessness.
"I will. You too." It was a lame reply, but Joseph understood. "I'm heading home. I--"
The sudden pause prompts Joseph to look up. Amongst the falling stars a new star flares into existence and then blinks out. "What was that?"
"Joseph! A fleet just dropped out of hyperspace."
"Richard, I saw the dump-flare from here. There's no way I should be able to see that flare from ground-side."
"I'm telling you the truth."
"It would have to be an enormous fleet to make a flare that large."
"Joseph, it's the Beta-Linals."
"It's can't be. A flare that big would mean they brought every ship they have in a single jump."
"Judging by the readouts I'm seeing, they did. They're transmitting, I'll play it for you."
As the translation systems make sense of the alien broadcast, a generated voice begins to speak, "Humans. When our colony on [Hera 3] faced annihilation from a falling moon, your ships helped us save our people. For that, we offer you the hearts of your enemies!"
Joseph is stunned. The Beta-Linals were evolved predators; they only shared their kills with family. Even a symbolic sharing of such an important part was unheard of. "Did I just hear what I think I did?"
"I heard it too. But against Elurians? They're throwing their lives away."
"We should tell them to turn away. We can't let them do that."
Suddenly, in the southern sky, another brilliant star is birthed and dies. "Joseph!"
"I saw it!"
Another generated voice, this time higher and clipped. "Debts owed are heavy chains. Thought they chafe when worn, they teach us greater freedom when cast off. Your people escorted the plague ships when none would give them a berth. You gave freely of your medicine and guided the lost back to their home. We thank you for the chains of debt that weighed us down that we may offer them back in your time of need and lift both our peoples higher."
"I can't believe this. The plague ship relief effort was nearly a century ago!" Joseph regarded his phone as if it were something he'd never seen before.
"Kilnans never forget a debt. The entire navies of two species against the Elurians. Maybe--"
Another brief star shines in the sky. And then another. And another. Three become five. Five become ten. Ten become twenty, and then Joseph loses count as his vision blurs from the tears filling his eyes. His phone begins to play message after message as each People declare their thanks for a past help and their intention to repay it at Humanity's hour of need. The combined navies of dozens of species would eventually be known as The Great Fleet. But now, at this moment, it was an outpouring of thanks; good deeds made manifest. And the Elurian fleet began to burn.
Joseph held his son tight, looking up at the sky as countless shooting stars streaked across the sky, and on his face was a look of childlike wonder. | A human is never late. Nor early. They arrive exactly when they need to. When the Lerval Empire was in dire need of help fixing their own created plague, for example. Or how about that time when a Human selfishly sacrificed itself so that a shipment of foodstuffs for the Herg larflings got to their homeworld in time, thereby not only saving a complete generation of a species, but also the species itself? Or when a family of diplomats spent four generations to create a truce between two of the galaxy's oldest rivals? Having a human as your neighbor meant that you never had to worry about having enough Cahfe when you had uninvited guests over; and if you were lucky, they'd even bring some of those delightful sweet foodstuffs to accompany it. While not every race in the galaxy had dealt with them yet, most knew of them even only by name. Put simply, while some would see having a human around as a sign of bad luck, you would always know that the human got your back if there really was bad luck around the next system.
Everyone knew. Kyyp'r knew too. They were one of the most kind creatures in the galaxy. What she didn't expect was the rage she felt building up when looking at the emergency transmission originating from the human homeworld. She slammed four of her five left appendages onto a table in one of the Neutral Appointment Station's conference rooms, which made her aides really nervous. They had never seen her using more than two appendages, and that was when her last ex-husband wanted to take their herd of children on a trip to a gas giant.
"We of the Kyyp'a demand that the Huu-mons be protected against these "Leviathans". We did not think they were serious when they entered our Spiral and boasted about 'taking on one of the weaker ones to make an example'. We demand that these "Leviathans" be punished for their blatant disrespect towards our kind neighbors! Why, they are so kind, they once..."
"We agree." The answer interrupted the massive Kyyp'a, all the more obvious by the way how all of her upper appendages slumped beside her body. The Brogan ambassador (also such a nice human invention) looked at her with resolve in his faceted eyes. Next to him, the Viala ambassador chirped positively. "Yes, our kind is in unison about this matter. We would surely regret the day we would not be able to return the borrowed Cahfe to our nice neighbor." The Viala's voice tranquilized the assembled ambassadors until the universal translator kicked in and translated her song into each species' native tongue. All around the table the ambassadors chipped in on a positive note, leaving their respective aides confused; it had *never* happened that the majority of the galaxy's races been in the same space without killing each other, let alone *agreeing* with one another. As the emergency broadcast looped softly in the background, a robot on the left stood up, causing the crowd to go silent. "I represent a shard of the new Herg generation. I owe much to our neighbors. If not for The Emilio Torro, great collective have his eternal life force, I and my kind would not be among you. I have prepared an... appropriate welcome for the "Leviathans". If everyone is in agreement, I would suggest you join me in this "welcome party", as the Hoemons would call it."
All around the galaxy, starships started speeding away towards a single point in space. So massive was the arrival above Earth that the bright flashes of ships arriving at this single destination could be seen even years afterwards on certain planets, almost universally renaming the constellations in which Sol appeared towards something that all agreed to: "The Good Neighbor".
What happened to the Leviathans after this Great Battle? Nobody knows. Hearsay has it that a human general once offered to help them out when he came by their star system and saw they had a problem, but the Leviathans themselves were too proud to accept a neighbor's helping hand. That, or that the general in question was actually the helping hand in their extinction. But those are just stories told on chilly evenings with a cup of hot Cahfe... | 2017-03-26T09:19:46 | 2017-03-26T08:34:08 | 74 | 27 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | "Well Fifth , we have a hard time figuring these guys out ."
Fifth swivels its primary sensory orifices to face Thirty Second "What is so difficult about them that I had to be brought out of stasis?".
"Well they are a primitive species , and we can tell by their transmissions that they seem to want a peaceful meeting." Fifth interrupts "A species capable a generating gravity waves is hardly primitive."
"Well Fifth , thats the thing , they aren't transmitting with gravity waves."
"Then how are we ...."
"They are beaming modulated radio waves at us ...fortunately the shielding held up and we suffered only minor damage."
"They attacked us?"
"Uh no....it seems that they consider radio waves to be harmless....so when we realized that that the pulses were modulated we hooked the modulation decoder to the shielding alarm and presto ... we could hear what they were saying ,they have a simple communication matrix , it only took the translator analogues a few moments to decipher.
"So how are we talking to them if they cant detect gravity waves?"
"I modified our main gun to modulate its frequency the same way and fired it a full power at their capital."
"Oh dear Goddess ...how did they respond?"
"They asked us to turn up the power......."
"... Thats a class seven weapon and they asked to be hit harder?"
"They wanted to know if their signal was strong enough to be heard clearly, I told them under no circumstances were they to increase power....they are already transmitting at a class 9 level, only thing that saved us is that it has a wide spread."
Fifths superior cognitive skills immediately realized that if radio transmitter was used as a communication system a wide spread would be a good thing.
"I see why you woke me....a species immune to radio waves is quite disturbing."
"Thats not why I asked for you , we've been communicating long enough to learn some more and the latest communication .....it scares the goddess out of me."
"What was it"
"We asked them how they were able to survive on a planet with a strong magnetic field......"
"How strong is it ?"
"Approximately 2,000 times higher than a class 20 magnetic bomb."
"Thats....incredible, so how do they do it"
"They didnt understand the question."
Once again Fifths cognitive skills reached the obvious conclusion , Thirty Second hadn't asked for him to decipher the situation ... Thirty Second just needed someone with enough authority to cancel the mission.
"Engage cloak and lets get the hell out of here."
No wonder the last 5 missions to this system failed to return....blown to fine dust by the aliens "communication systems'.
And then ....Fifth had an revelation.
"Thirty Second, have we ever discovered life in an iron rich system before?"
"No Fifth , we havent , I guess this ones going in the history scrolls."
"Thirty Second, you are to erase all record of this mission and bring First , Second and Third out of stasis."
Thirty Second was taken aback, the idea of waking the Goddess herself for a mission that was to be forgotten ?!
And then with a sly smug vibration along his crest Fifth told Thirty Second why.
"They are primitive , that means we have things they desperately need."
"So?"
"These Humans can shorten the war by a thousand years."
| On Sep’juen 5 there lies a city of towering skeletal spires laid out against an ashy gray sky. Streets lie deserted save for the wreckage, rubble and detritus of a long erased culture.
Yet still a message plays across the apocalyptic landscape in that haunting language of the Janude across the cities PA system.
“We looked down upon them with contempt. When we had met the first species capable of thought, we had never imagined them to be so weak. Our biology was superior, and our technology was first to bridge the void to meet them at their very doorstep.
We probed and we prodded at their political systems, and found their governments all too willing to co-operate with us. They bent over backwards to keep even a tenuous peace. We thought to take them in, so that they too could be as great as us, but we demanded complete obedience.
Yet these naked apes had a power that our history had never endowed us with.
Fanaticism.
Their powerful doctrine had replaced moments of doubt with moments of courage. It drove them beyond points where they would have broken, or points where they would have retreated. It had eclipsed all reason. All their cities belonged to us, yet we may as well have spent twenty human years twiddling our… “thumbs”.
They began to adapt to us, learn, and incorporate. Our beautiful and sacred technology was now in their dirty paws and we learned one thing from the humans.
Their thirst for vengeance is unquenchable. They were not interested in compensation, only in carrying out “the will of God”. We never saw this powerful and ingenious leader, we controlled all of Terra’s communications, yet never found how he managed to inspire his followers so. In the end, we were cut down to the last. Our people had no means of banding together to the same degree as humans, were we ever to rebuild many saw no point.
Desperation befell our race after these centuries of conflict, and now our legacy is naught but dust.”
The message continues to loop across the city streets, but only the bleached bones of the Janude are left to hear them.
---
I tried to do this as a hour long writing session to see how it would turn out. Its been awhile since I've written a complete fiction thing. | 2016-03-13T19:37:26 | 2016-03-13T17:22:19 | 59 | 36 |
[WP] A nerdy girl goes on a blind date. She's surprised when the date is the bitchiest cheerleader in her school. | "Trust me on this one. I know what kind of girls you like and I am telling you, you will absolutely fall in love with this girl." Her friend excitedly took her hands and nearly bounced with joy as she tried to set up the date for Friday. "Plus, she is totally into you already. She asked me after class the other day if you really liked girls and if so could I introduce you. I already kinda made you a date, so you have to say yes!"
Hanna rubbed her forehead and half scowled, "I swear to God, if this is like the time you tried to hook me up with your brother's friend, I will never talk to you again." She frowned and hugged her friend Ami's pillow to her chest.
Ami laughed and said, "Ok, that was like, totally different though because I took my brother's word on that guy. I had no idea that he was a neck bearded fedora lord." She giggled and said, "This girl is totally your type. She even shares your stupid obsession with David Tennant."
Hanna pursed her lips and after a pause asked, "And she is cute too? Let me guess, she doesn't really like girls, and you are just making me go so your mom will let you see your boyfriend."
Ami's eye twitched slightly before she burst out laughing, "Ok, I won't lie, I do need you to go so I can see him, but seriously, when you see who it is, you'll freak in a good way. I promise."
All week long Hanna was a bundle of nerves waiting for her date on Friday night. She was so worked up she didn't even respond when the bitchy cheerleader kept staring at her from across the hall. It burned her up when the girls who won the genetic lottery bothered to mess with a plain Jane girl like her, wasn't it enough that they were beautiful and popular. Did they really need to take the time to rub people's faces in it? The girl who kept staring at her was known as Emily the ice queen. She was arguably the best looking girl in school and the one that everyone called the bitchiest girl in school. She left a trail of broken hearted guys by publicly ripping them any time they tried to ask her out.
Ami and her boyfriend showed up in his dad's Dodge Charger. Hanna felt super awkward. Ami made her dress up and even did her make up for her saying that tonight was a night she'd want to be done up. It irked her though that Ami and her boyfriend were dressed casually. She felt like she was completely over dressed as she climbed into the back of the car. She made several smarmy comments that caused Ami and her boyfriend Tim to laugh hysterically. She was very unhappy that they seemed to be in on some kind of joke about her date.
After an hour drive they arrived at a very nice, slightly out of the way upscale restaurant. Ami and Tim turned to look at Hanna. Ami smiled sweetly and said, "Your date is going to give you a ride home. Tim and I are headed to his Dad's cabin up by the lake."
Hanna looked panic stricken, "Wait! You aren't coming with me? What if my date falls apart, I won't have a ride!"
Ami looked at Tim and laughed, Tim smiled and said, "Hanna, trust us, this girl? You'll be in love the moment you see her, trust us."
And that was how Hanna found herself nearly shaking as she walked up to the front door, alone. She took a deep breath and straightened her outfit and pulled open the door. It took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the darker room. Standing just inside the door with her back to Hanna was a girl with a nice figure wearing a smiliar semi-formal outfit. She turned at the sound of the door and smiled as she saw Hanna.
Hanna felt a wave of annoyance pass over her as she looked into the face of Emily the ice queen. This was all she needed, now everyone at school would hear about how Emily the ice queen saw Hanna the lesbo on a date. Hanna wanted to slip out the door and run away. Emily walked up and gave Hanna a hug then shockingly kissed her softly on the lips, "You look so beautiful. I was worried that you might not come after the mean looks you gave me at school."
Hanna knew that her mouth was hanging open but she couldn't even think, she knew that what came out of her mouth had to be the dumbest thing she could have ever said, "You're my date?"
Emily laughed and blushed red, "You mean, Ami didn't tell you?" Emily face palmed and laughed, "I am so sorry, I should have had the guts to just ask you myself, but I was afraid you'd think I was playing a joke on you. My friends can be kind of assholes to you and your friends."
Hanna blushed red herself and stammered, "You're so pretty, I just assumed you liked boys."
Emily laughed and said, "Yeah, well, I don't." She smiled and gave Hanna a look, "I hope you like sushi."
Hanna tilted her head and asked, "I thought this was an Italian restaurant?" After a long awkward pause she blushed furiously and said, "Oooooh. Um. Yeah. I love it."
| Susan was surprised Rose had ever wanted to be friends with her. Last time one of the popular girls talked to her, she ended up naked in a cornfield in the middle of the night. But she had been sitting with Rose at lunch for almost a year now, and nothing bad had happened yet. On this evening, however, she would be convinced the whole thing was just a huge joke, and this was its culmination.
"So you really have a licence, but not a car?"
"Yeah. My parents can't afford it."
"Why not just use their car then, you don't need your own."
"I mean they can't even afford one car."
Rose was silent after this. Susan was used to that. It seemed that the popular kids couldn't conceive of a world where someone doesn't have a car. Nonetheless, she was thankful Rose had driven her here. It was her first date, at age 16. This was pretty atypical, considering most of the girls at her high schools hadn't even been virgins since the 8th grade. Susan was concerned and intrigued by this.
"Pick me up at 9:30, okay?" Susan said as she closed the passenger-side door. This was met with a nod and a smile from Rose. Then she drove off.
Rose approached the building, full of anxiety and anticipation. Not only was this her first ever date, it was a blind date. For the first time ever, Susan had made a big deal about her appearance, not that it was her greatest feature, or even close to that. Her lips felt and tasted weird with gloss on them.
She hesitantly approached the glass doors, then pushed them open, her heart pounding. Not five minutes in what was promised to be the greatest day of her life, she was filled with dread at what she saw.
Standing there, just inside the restaurant, was one of the few people she had felt true hatred for. Susan knew she would be paired with one of the more popular kids, and that it would probably be a friend of Rose's, but why him? WHY?
Jake. The head cheerleader, and the only male one. Cheerleaders were infamous for bitchiness, but this was ridiculous. It had to be a sick joke. Rose had to be waiting for her out in front, she had to have turned around and come back. Susan looked behind her, but found only disappointment.
"Well, are you just going to stand there like a dead horse or something? Ughh, come on I've been waiting forever." Jake said, in his characteristic bitchy voice.
Without speaking a word, Susan followed Jake as they were seated by a waitress who seemed to be amused by the pairing. Good. Susan wasn't the only one who thought he was gay.
"So, what are you going to order?" Jake said as they sat down at their table for two. A harmless statement, it still somehow seemed offensive, just because of who said it.
"I don't know, I only just got here," was Susan's reply, in a much more pleasant tone than Jake deserved. With a sigh, she picked up the menu and began to look over it.
"So?" came Jake's piercing voice as they began to eat.
"So what?"
"Aren't you going to compliment me?"
"I thought I was the girl," Susan said bitterly.
"Offensive," was all Jake could say. Then he was silent for some time, ans Susan was glad.
After a good fifteen minutes of eating in silence and letting her emotions fester, Susan decided it was best for her to do something to help her present situation.
"So Jake."
"Ughh, what do you want?"
"Why did you agree to come on this date if you're so obviously gay?"
The look on Jake's face was priceless. If Susan couldn't erase this date from her memory entirely, that would be the one thing she wanted to remember. It was at least ten seconds before Jake responded. "I don't have to take this from you. I am head cheerleader, and you sat at the nerd table until this year. CHECK! You're paying."
"Okay!" Susan agreed cheerily, "but I'm going to the bathroom first."
She walked off to the bathroom, more confident in what she was about to do than she had ever been before. Pushing the window open, she heard a familiar voice behind her.
"How'd the date go?" It was Rose.
"I hate you," said Susan, through gritted teeth.
"No you don't. You know you love me."
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
| 2014-10-11T21:53:38 | 2014-10-11T19:59:04 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] Humanity finally figures out faster than light travel and discover that they are completely average by galactic standard, except for one thing, our innate ability to bullshit our way out of any situation. | "So," the General asked, "What you're saying is that humans are *not* distinguished by our superior talent for battle?"
"No, sir. We've been over this."
"Are you quite sure? It's been my understanding that our willingness to kill each other and our fearlessness in combat make us the scourge of the galaxy, spoken of only in whispers by--"
"Your understanding? It's *been*...? What does that even... I'm delivering news of the first Galactic Conference to you. Who could have possibly told you this, this asinine story?"
"I just assumed, given our bulldog-like tenacity and strategic mindset--"
"Sir, our research is hardly complete, but it seems quite evident that humans are less apt for strategic thinking than most of the Conference-attending species, of which several possess higher-order intelligences or are capable of seeing some distance into what we understand as the future; and we are physically weaker, slower, less resilient, and less technologically advanced than any other sentient beings. From what we can tell, humans are distinguished primarily for being, in the eyes of the Galaxy, dumb, selfish, and cowardly."
"Which means we're able to outmaneuver most of these alien creeps, right? We're cowards, but in the smart, tactical way. One-on-one we might not be a match for an alien, but that's why they say, *Make an enemy of a human, and you've made the deadliest enemy in the universe.*"
"You... that... *who*...?"
The General smiled hopefully. The Ambassador sighed.
"Actually, there does appear to be a recently coined saying about humankind, but it's more along the lines of *Put a human in a room alone and it will invent an imaginary enemy, pick a fight with it, and somehow manage to lose.*"
The General pondered this for a moment, his eyes narrowed, chin perched thoughtfully atop his fist. "True, we are the most warlike of beings... we carry battle in our blood. A great cross to bear. Yet, with great power comes great responsibility."
As the General wandered off, lost in thought, the Ambassador sighed again, in mingled relief and embarrassment--relief that the conversation was over, and embarrassment at the thought of this man engaging with the Xyth'lian delegate scheduled to attend the following local summit on Mars. The Xyth'lian had their own variation on that saying: *Wherever they go, humans convince themselves they're better than everyone else, even after losing a fight they picked with a small child over something only an idiot would care about.*
Apparently it flowed better in the original language. | This was our third time to Rigel this month, The Dominar said he would trade us a clean energy technology if we would provide him with gangsters to act as his diplomats. Apparently the ability to with hold the truth or Lie as we call it was a unique ability that only humans had. I mean there were attempts. They were all so conspicuous to us like the time an Akranian trader came up to me while I was bouncing the gate at a trade show on Temos 7. He incorrectly tried to make a deal then threatened me then hit his slave, who was obviously ex military. Akranian Traders are well known for threatening first then trying to make a deal I mean come on who was he trying to fool? But i digress. The Dominar on Rigel was a very Impatient little creature. God only knows what he would offer us if he knew sugar grew naturally on earth.
When I landed in New Jersey I put an ad on the netlistings for thugs Who wanted to work off world , and who would be willing to have an translator implant. I don't mind telling you I jumped a bit when mine was implanted. They don't tell you about the searing pain you will feel when the thing bites into your cerebral cortex for just a moment. Out of the 30000 applicant I managed to narrow it down to just 500 the only applicants that were human anyways. out of them 50 already had translators and about half of that who had worked off world. This deal would mean big business with us and Rigel. I filed the proper paperwork with the Federation government and Bam that is how I became the diplomatic ambassador to the Dominar of Rigel. Also why the oceans look clean, and our air quality has been brought back to pre-industrial revolution standards. No need to thank me Just doing my job.
Best Regards,
First Ambassador of Rigel
Jorry Fischer | 2018-01-30T06:56:55 | 2018-01-30T06:35:36 | 164 | 13 |
[WP] In what seems like a cruel prank by a bored God, people started developing powers based on their worst fears. people afraid of heights got the gift of flight. arachnophobia? get the power of spiders. phasmophobia? necromancy/ability to speak with the dead. Your power is... hard to explain... | Peter stood among a line of mourners filing past a casket paying their last respects to a friend Peter had loved. The sorrow and weeping in the room reflected the anguish and weight Peter carried inside of him, but he shed no tears. There were none left after centuries of watching every person he loved die.
This death would be the last. He had made a commitment to not become attached to anyone ever again after a certain point in his life when the pain became too much to bear. This friend was the last person he had let in. Now the world was filled with acquaintances and strangers.
The line moved until Peter stood over the casket looking down at the waxy face devoid of the life Peter remembered. Part of his mind wanted to believe this couldn’t be Mark, this thing only looks similar to Mark. But he knew those lies only shielded one so much.
Grief nearly overtook him at that moment remembering all of the moments he had shared with his friend. Instead he steeled his heart, laid a hand on the casket and said, “Goodbye old friend.”
Peter nodded to the family overwhelmed by their loss and moved towards the door leaving the scene behind. He stepped out to a bright sunny day that existed as a slap in the face to the sorrow in his heart.
His biggest fear had always been losing the ones he loved. So the Devil of this world, who gifted powers to mortals, had given Peter immortality. Even though he still stood in the center of that fear he knew this was the last time. If he never let anyone into his life again then that fear would not heap anymore weight upon him.
As he walked to his car he felt something he hadn’t in a long time, his lower back was sore. When immortality had settled upon him it had taken away the trivial pains of life and replaced his body with an ageless, perfect vehicle for his fear. Now, when he thought himself escaping that fear, he once again felt pain. The Devil was more cruel than Peter ever imagined.
He made it to his car and looked at his reflection in the window. His hair now had streaks of gray and wrinkles were forming on his face. Time was sinking its claws into him once again and it wanted it’s due with interest. Glancing around Peter was glad to see no one else in the parking lot to witness his rapid transformation.
When he opened the door to get in his car something brushed up against his leg. He looked down to see a small white kitten with ribs visible beneath the skin. It looked up at Peter and let out a pitiful meow. He bent down and ran a finger along its back. The kitten pushed its back up into his finger and began to rub against his ankle.
Peter didn’t know how much longer he had left with his powers seeming to vanish, but at that moment he resolved to at least find this kitten a meal before his body surrendered. He lifted the kitten up in both hands and placed it on his lap as he sat down in the driver seat of his car. It was purring madly and curled into a ball. Somehow it knew he planned to care for it.
The engine sprang to life as he turned the key in the ignition and Peter noticed himself again in the mirror. All of the wrinkles and gray hair he had seen moments ago were gone. He realized the pain in his back had disappeared as well.
Peter looked down at the ball of fur in his lap now sleeping and a tear finally escaped him. Perhaps he could love one more thing in this world. | I had a fear of money.
Growing up, I didn't really want a lot, and my parents were kind, hardworking people, stuck in a world where money was tight for everyone. As a kid, I picked up more on 'we're low on money' than I did their 'we should enjoy life while we can', and that fear of spending money grew to become my fear of acting out on what I wanted.
That sort of thinking was unhealthy, of course, and I had gone through therapy to get rid of that, but... it didn't get rid of that fear of money. Earning money was a burden because I grew up thinking that I didn't want anything. So, I'd push my income on others to deal with. I lived with my parents, giving all my income to them to pay their rent, their taxes, their weekly dates together as I browsed free webnovels or used their streaming accounts to rewatch shows that were free to watch back when I was a kid.
To remember the times where I didn't need to worry about money.
Now, I'm no philosopher, but I always thought that money was just a physical representation of trust. That when someone used money, they spent that trust on services. That when someone trusted you a lot, you could ask them for anything you wanted.
My parents trusted me. I trusted them. I didn't want to quantify that love.
I feared what quantifying that feeling would bring me.
I was afraid of money. I didn't hold on to it for long if I could help it.
So when people started getting super powers, I ended up being able to turn people's trust in something into a physical token to represent both what they trusted and how much they trusted it.
The first thing I did was change the trust my parents had in me into an indestructible set of armor. That's when I knew that, while they once trusted me to do anything, they lost their trust in me as soon as I turned it into a physical state.
I was a stranger to them. They didn't know who I was. They didn't trust me to be a good person or believe that I was a bad person. They didn't even know my name, even as I gave them the armor I made of their trust.
They sold it, too. Because it was a representation of trust. That's all it was to them. Money.
I was afraid of money before. Now... I'm terrified of what I'll do with it. | 2022-05-14T20:10:32 | 2022-05-14T18:44:48 | 128 | 70 |
[WP] In the future we find out that the galaxy is lifeless. Thanks to the resources in space, terraforming a new world is quite easy but there's one problem: there are too many planets. Thus the terraforming and planting of lifeforms becomes a popular subject for student projects. | ###Macroengineering I - Lab 6: Terraforming
**Introduction**
Terraforming is an extremely important methodology to the expansion of humanity, along with being a major subject in the field of macroengineering. In this lab, the goal was to terraform a dwarf planet, seed it with microorganisms, and guide the development of edible terrestrial life. This is accomplished via restructuring surface, generation and maintenance of an appropriate atmosphere, selecting appropriate seeder organisms, and artificially-accelerated development of lifeforms until long-term terrestrial life has emerged.
**Materials**
1. A large dwarf planet (EGK 20383)
2. Two compact fusion power generators (10 PW capacity each)
3. Distilled water (0.7 ZL)
4. A GENESIS (General Enhancement of Native Environments - Surveyor and Implementation System)
5. Library of microorganisms provided by the ATCC
**Results**
*Characterization of EGK 20383*
A large dwarf planet, EGK 20383, was characterized. The total surface area measured was 250 Tm^2, or roughly half that of the Earth. The ground was found to be composed primarily of silicates and iron. No water was found. The topography of EGK 20383 was rugged, with over 5000 peaks above 20 km. No preexisting lifeforms were found.
*Terraforming of EGK 20383*
Fusion generators were successfully set up, operating at a maximum output of 10 PW per generator. Peaks above 15 km in height were smoothed to 15 km in height using the GENESIS system. A carbon dioxide atmosphere was requested and delivered. An appropriate quantity of water of half of the Earth's 1.4 ZL volume was calculated; due to a typographical error, 0.7 YL, or 700 ZL, was requested and delivered. Excess water escaped from the gravitational pull of EGK 20383; the remaining water covered 100% of the surface area.
*Seeding with Microorganisms*
Cyanobacter of various strains were selected from ATCC. Upon seeding, they rapidly grew to cover 80% of the surface area. Rapid rise in oxygenation incurred rapid death, and carbon waste sedimented to the bottom of the water layer. Aerobic bacteria were then introduced, and proliferated. With accelerated mutations, vertebral lifeforms were generated.
*Establishment of Terrestrial Life*
Establishment of terrestrial life was not possible, as the surface was entirely covered with water.
**Conclusion**
The planet was surveyed and terraformed. Although life was successfully seeded, terrestrial life development was impossible due to human error. | The white planet came into view. Mark felt a thrill go through him, all of the excitement and anxiety that came with discovery and enterprize and action. Through the round window the little white planet hovered at a delicate distance from its star.
"Which sun are we at again?" Jake's thumbs never stopped moving over his pad. "My mom's gonna send me some pie and she needs to know which sun we're at."
"The star is Delta Five, zone R. The planet hasn't been named yet." Mark tried not to let the apathy of his classmates ruin his excitement. "I don't think she'll get any pie out here, though. We're in the Outskirts."
"Whatever. Delta Five. Whatever."
There were five of them hunched together in the commuter shuttle. In spite of the fact that they were all enrolled in Terraforming 401, Mark was the only one among them who had any desire to be there or had any idea what he was doing. The others were Space Tourism majors, and for mysterious reasons Terraforming had been jammed into their curriculum. Mark, a naturally easy going and straightforward person, did his best not to despise them. But Jake, Susan, Tom, and Kai were all incredibly stupid, conceited, spoilt, and rude; and Mark had to convince himself several times not to murder them.
He looked at the white planet through the window. It was white desert, from pole to pole, and scans had shown possible reservoirs of salt water trapped beneath the surface at certain latitudes. It would be their task to move water and air, to build storms and push back the white rocks of the desert.
It was enough to make him forget about his unfortunate company. At least for a moment.
| 2016-01-06T11:19:05 | 2016-01-06T10:31:55 | 34 | 14 |
[WP] - You are immortal, locked up in a room with no windows, with only a toilet, a bed, a sink and a door with a latch where every hour someone checks on you. You don't remember why or how long you have been locked up there or where 'there' is. Then the door opens and a man says "we need you". | Some days, the attendees annoy me with their voices or their bad breath or the stupid things they say. Some days, I enjoy the gruffness or a witty attitude. Most days, I just long for solitude. Real solitude. After thousands of years, I’ve had my fill of people. And yet, it’s the people who come to do check-ins that provide the only variety in my dull, organized life.
I hear the quick, clumsy steps of the new girl. Her name is Lola. She has short blue hair and round black eyes. She has a voice like a bird. I don’t really like Lola very much. She’s too young and too restless, like a puppy. But I think I’d like her when she grows up.
I lift my head slowly, at a human pace, as she gets closer to the door. Today, instead of opening the slate in the door, the tiny human girl swung the heavy metal door open. It hit the wall with a bang. She was wearing the standard uniform; a sleek black material formed a skin tight jumpsuit around her lithe form. I remembered someone telling me once that they were meant to protect everyone from me. Fire proof, pressure proof, cut proof. Whatever they could think of. The mortals never truly understand our powers.
We speak at the same time.
“We need you.”
“So it is time.”
I couldn’t make out her expression. Today she wore the hood that came with the uniform. I wondered whose idea that had been.
“Why have they sent you?”
Lola did not expect this question. She was quiet for long enough to make me bored. I stepped towards her and in my small space that put me inches from her. I stretched a hand out and let my fingertips brush the fabric covering her shoulder. She winced. I’d forgotten how fragile the humans were.
“I-I’m not sure. You’re to come with me. Downstairs.”
Oh, how sweet the idea of freedom tastes.
“Is my sister there?”
I could smell the sweat on Lola’s palms and hear her heartbeat escalating.
“So she is!” I said, chipper. “Let’s go, then. It’s been a few centuries.” | Had it been months? Years? Days?
My mind was in a whirlwhind when the light seared my eyes.
The silhouette stayed there, and soon two more were standing behind it.
I tried to open my mouth but the words fell out.
As it walked in the two behind set a table down and another two brought in some chairs.
I could tell it was a man when he sat down, he was wearing a blue sport polo and had a sunglasses tan line around his eyes.
After a few tries, I managed to speak. "How... how long have I been here?"
"You've been here for 47 months, 5 days, and about 7 hours. And now, we need your help."
The last time I saw light was the day that they took me away. I was swept away from my own bedroom early in the morning after they asked me to show my identification card.
"With what? Why am I here?"
"You were the last person to check something out. And now we need your help."
"With what?" I was starting to miss the solace I had experienced for so long.
"We work for Amazon, you are here because you were the last person to use a library, which is consequently the reason why you're here. Your copy of 'The Guide' was way over due."
"So why are you here?"
"We don't remember what a library looks like or, how one operates."
| 2018-07-31T14:46:36 | 2018-07-31T14:23:30 | 34 | 12 |
[WP] Your car crashed, and you are dying. In a moment of clarity, you grab your iPhone, hold the home button, and speak your final words - the ones you've always heard in movies - to Siri: "Tell my wife I love her." As your life ends, your wife receives a disturbing, confusing text: "I love her". | "Siri, tell my wife I love her!" I say as I sit in the drivers seat of my overturned Expedition, seat belt suspending me off the ground inches from the top of my head. *Looks like it did its job*, I think to myself bitterly, as I feel myself becoming the human form of pain itself. I feel myself getting weaker. This is when I notice blood draining from the arteries in my legs and showering to the ground by my head, right where my roof used to be. *It was a good thirty-six years. You were valuable to the people in your life. Now, let's see whether or not God is real!* Just as I'm about to hit send and relinquish my life, I see my phone type out this message to My Wife:
"I love her"
*What the fuck, Siri? You can't get a dying man's final request right? I guess I should type it out myself...*
However, Siri keeps going and types out:
"It was all a dream, I used to read Word Up magazine, Salt-N-Pepa and Heavy D up in the limousine"
*Wait a minute...* I think. *None of this adds up! Why would my wife's contact name be "My Wife"? I'm not even married! I'm nineteen! I don't even own an iPhone! Oh God, the pain! MAKE IT STOP!!!*
Sure enough, it stopped. I woke up to the sound of my Samsung Galaxy's alarm, which I had set to play Juicy by Biggie Smalls. I smirk a little as I hit the snooze button. "It **was** all a dream" I say to myself, relieved to not be on the verge of death. *Thanks, Biggie.* | *Bzzzzzzzzzz*.
"Fucking... again?" Beatrice walked over to her phone to read the third text in ten minutes from Enoch. She was starting to get irritated; it's difficult to work when you're being constantly interrupted.
*I love her.*
Beatrice immediately looked away. What in the fuck does that mean? Did it autocorrect? Was he confessing something? Way to pick the worst possible time and method to do it. She called him.
*Ring... ring... ring...*
*Thanks for calling Spiral Enterprises, you've reached Enoch. I'm currently unavailable, but feel free to leave me your name and contact information. Have a fantastic day!*
She called again. Voicemail, again. What's the deal?! She started to pace, longing for his answer.
"Pick up the phone, Enoch. Please. Just fucking answer it! Just answer."
It would be a sludging four hours before the State Police showed up. | 2014-11-07T09:33:28 | 2014-11-07T09:24:50 | 37 | 15 |
[WP] It's the first week of Magic theory class. You've finally gotten to the basics of the subject. As your professor talks you notice something bothering you. You raise your hand and ask the proffesor about it. They blink and look at the board, then back at you. They ask you to stay after class. | "And as you can see, the mana balance between light and dark-aspected elements in the magic circle balances out in the first three seconds of inscription, preventing the production of antipodal spells above the second circle of sorcery." The engraved circle on the board sparked white and black and whirled together in bright darkness, until it rapidly dulled out and faded, the magic neutralizing entirely.
For the first time in the class, a thought struck me, and I stopped taking notes and raised my hand. "Professor Novae?" I asked.
"Yes! Any question you may have, I encourage you all to ask. You all have been far too quiet for such an advanced class!"
"Why is it a magic *circle*?" There was half-stifled laughter across the classroom. "Why aren't there magic squares, or magic... hexagons? Or whatever."
The laughter continued, and the professor silenced the class with a grand, chopping motion and a firm, even explosive "**Silence**!" As the professor's voice echoed through the room, the laughter died out, and the professor continued, "That is an excellent question! Exactly the kind of question I want asked in this theory class. You all are not here to learn magic, you already know magic. You are here to learn *how to* magic! Everything you will learn in this class originally came from when somebody asked a question like that. Often, a question people laughed at. Sometimes, a genuinely stupid question. Those are sometimes very, very good questions indeed."
By now, the class was quiet again, almost reverent, but that atmosphere would not last. "Unfortunately, your question was so good, that my response would take up far too much class time. I would like you to stay after class and discuss it with me." The class went back to stifled laughter, and the professor resumed the lesson.
An hour later, as the last students were filing out, the professor gestured to me. "What is your name, apprentice?"
"Tuulren," was my response. "Tuulren Wellfinder."
"Apprentice Wellfinder," The professor flicked a wrist, and a large, dull iron key thumped against my chest, landing on the floor before I could think to grab it. "That is the key to room 708 of the laboratory building. It is empty, it is shielded, and it is for the duration of this semester yours to experiment in. If you want to find out why no magic squares, then *make a magic square yourself*, and you will know why there are not. Or, you will learn how to make one."
"Uh..." I stuttered, kneeling to pick up the key, "Isn't just experimenting with magic like that... dangerous?"
The professor smiled. "Unimaginably so. If you do not show to your next class session on Thor's Day, I will assume you did something very wrong, and are dead, and I will tell the next apprentice who asks that trying to make a magic square will kill them. Additionally, you are not to mention anything you do or intend to do in that room to your friends or family - they are henceforth, state secrets. If you have findings, you may initially share them with faculty, and your grades will reflect your contribution."
"...Just my grades?" I asked. For risking my life, is the rest of the question I left unasked.
"Not just. But starting with. If you prove to have a talent for researching magic... it would be very valuable. You can do much in the world by putting your life on the line, if you have the drive. And with a question like that..." The professor smiled. "It really comes down to that drive. How badly you want to know the answer. The rewards are secondary. Do you *want* to write a magic square? Throw all of our understanding of the world for a loop, change what all the faculty teach in our classes?"
"Shit." I looked down at the key. I really did. And when I thought about it for a moment... I knew where I was going after dinner tonight. | Jazz stared at the board. They had zoned out again. It was happening a lot recently. Jazz couldn't shake the feeling each time that there was something in those thoughts without words, something missing. Like a dream forgotten.
They stared fiercely at the board, as if it were holding some secret. Some key to unlock every dream forgotten, to give words to every thought and feeling below the surface. Something seemed off about the board, and they had to remember what the heck it was before they could focus again.
Jazz blinked. They figured it out.
The board was shimmering.
Before they could stop themself, Jazz raised their hand. "What's the board made of?"
The professor stopped mid-lecture to stare at them. Jazz reddened and looked down. *So stupid. I should just shut up*. For some reason it felt like there should be another thought to counter that. A more positive one. There was none.
"Come see me after class," the professor said softly, then lectured on.
Jazz couldn't focus for the rest of class. Partially out of embarrassment and fear - *god, why did I have to get in trouble? I hope I get off with just a warning or whatever.* But Jazz also kept wondering what the board was made of. It didn't look like a normal blackboard, it was too blue. And when they stared at it it shimmered, waving in funny patterns whenever Jazz tilted their head.
Jazz kept expecting someone to agree with them. For another person to appear in their thoughts and say, *yeah, isn't it weird?* and give suggestions on what material it might be.
*Am I crazy? Normal people wouldn't imagine that, right?*
It almost felt like a memory, but Jazz couldn't ever remember something like that. And they'd remember, surely. Actually... it was hard to remember anything outside of the present. And not even just the general present - this particular moment. This classroom. When had Jazz entered? Where from?
*What the hell is wrong with me? What's going on?*
Jazz blinked and looked away from the board. Class had ended, and only a couple other students were still in the room. The professor did not wait for Jazz to walk to his desk; he approached Jazz. They shrunk. Something about him seemed off too. It made them uncomfortable.
He stared at them for a moment, then reached his arm out and grabbed their left hand. He blew on it, and circles appeared. Some sort of runes, like what they'd been learning in class but more complex. It looked like it had been burned into their hand.
Burned into their hand.
They remembered now. This wasn't real, this wasn't their life, their headmate was gone. Jazz stood up to run, but he squeezed their hand, and all of a sudden everything felt fuzzy. They still tried to move, but got no further than the fake classroom's fake door before they fell.
​
Jazz blinked and stared at the board. They had zoned out again. They wondered why it felt every time like there was something missing in those moment. Like forgotten dreams. | 2022-04-13T19:14:13 | 2022-04-13T15:29:43 | 341 | 138 |
[WP] You’re a cafe owner who is also secretly a mage. One day a customer barges in, claiming to be a supertaster and demanding to know the secret ingredient in your poppy seed muffin. The secret ingredient was literally magic.
EDIT: Guys, this is the first time I posted in this subreddit and I’m so stupidly happy to see all the responses and read all your stories. Thank you! | Changed up the prompt a bit. Hope y'all don't mind.
Myxia heard the soft cry of the bell hung on the front door as it was pushed open. To humans, it would sound like the ordinary tinkling of an ordinary bell. To Myxia, however, the sound was that of the musical chirruping of the splendid gold-and-crimson phoenixes that she so often witnessed taking flight at the crack of dawn, when Eos herself would raise her magnificent head and bring the faintest traces of Aether to the misty gloom that Nyx and Erebus had left behind.
She twirled her wand over the simmering cauldron perched in front of her — a quick, fluid motion — and stalked off to the front of the shop, smiling as the contents bubbled and frothed more vigorously behind her.
"Hello!" Myxia called as she reached the counter. The woman standing there was young, wide-eyed, and blonde, with skin so fair that Aphrodite herself would have been jealous. "What can I help you with?"
"Yes," she said dreamily, her eyes darting around, "I would like one of your Pacluster Muffins."
"To go, or are you staying?" Myxia asked.
"Stay," the customer whispered, in a very vague voice.
Myxia lofted her wand, waved it again, and one of the muffins zoomed out from under the counter, an accompanying napkin wrapping around it in the air. Myxia wasn't worried about the woman finding out her secret. The power of Hecate flowed through her, and with that power, she was able to distort the visions of mortals. Her wand, a long bronze scepter, probably resembled a spatula to them, and the acts that she had just performed were likely seen as regularly as they would happen in a regular mortal shop. Plus, this woman did seem a little ... strange.
"There you go!" she said brightly, passing over the muffin.
The woman snatched it away at once, her dreamy eyes focusing on it with an expression of terrible greed. She took a huge bite of the muffin, gave a few "Hmmms," and "Aaahs," of immense satisfaction, then turned back to Myxia, who was slightly disgusted.
"Please," she whispered, a huge chunk of the muffin plastered on her cheek. "You must tell me what the secret ingredient is...."
Myxia drew herself up to her fullest height, gave a hearty wink, and then waved her wand. "You won't remember any of this, but ... the secret ingredient ... is *magic*...."
"Magic ..." the woman repeated dreamily, and she keeled over, her enormous eyes rolling around in her head.
Myxia smiled, then gave a great sigh of contentment. The midmorning rush was coming in.
r/ShortsandSerials for more! | He barged into my cafe and the blue doors flew open and then slammed themselves shut.
"What's the fuck in this muffin?," he says excitedly with his eyes wide open. He laughed. "The poppy seeds," I said.
"No. It's not poppy seeds! I swore this tasted very different from every poppy seed I've ever tasted!"
"Oh. Really?", I asked surprised.
There was a long silence.
"I am a supertaster," he said.
There was another long silence.
I predicted what he was going to say next and I was right.
"I want to know what the secret ingredient is."
"It's magic."
"Magic? Every secret ingredient is magical because every secret ingredient makes stuff magic. That was very vague. You're trying to hide the ingredient from me, aren't you?"
"Actually, no. The secret ingredient is magic! I casted a spell on my poppy seed muffins to make them taste better than all of ones made by other people."
"Well, that's a very big claim. Can you prove it?"
"Of course, I can," I said as I pulled out my wand from under my baggy sleeves.
"Is that a real wand, like the stuff from Harry Potter?", he asked as his eyes began to widen.
"Yes, it is."
"Can you teach me magic?", he asked.
"Why you want me to teach you, magic?"
"Although, I am blessed with the ability of supertasting which allows me to figure out every ingredient in most things that I eat, I am unable to follow the recipes properly even with all the right ingredients. So I was wondering if you can teach me this spell so I can use it on food."
"This spell, unlike many, will take several years to master," I said.
"I will do it anyways," he said.
I nodded.
"Alright, I will be your be your mentor."
"Thank you, mage!"
"How did you know?"
"It was a joke that turned out to be true......so lucky guess?" | 2020-02-28T01:21:53 | 2020-02-27T23:12:43 | 26 | 18 |
[WP] You are a professional dragon slayer hired by a village to kill a dragon. Everything goes how its gone before until the dragon turns out to be kinder then the people in the village. | It was nice and quiet. The moon was obscured by clouds, leaving little light o navigate by. Perfect for me. The less the beast could see, the easier it would be to sneak up on it. Not that I had much choice on my time of attacking. Those villagers had been so determined to get me out, they hadn't let me hire a room for the night.
I couldn't exactly blame them, as a dragon was a pretty big deal. What I could blame them for was their insistence on having the body brought to them. Whole. I wasn't stupid. Dragon parts were worth a lot of money to the right people. I couldn't move it easily to a town to sell by myself. But they could have at least offered to split it with me.
Well, I shrugged. I could take whatever hoard it had at least. That would ease the wound. I wouldn't refuse the job anyway. I was a dragon slayer! I did it to help people. And make a bit of money of course.
Finally, I found the entrance to its cave. I crept in, going as quietly as possible. The sound of massive breaths came to my ears, and my heart began to pound. It was here. I had to be careful. If it woke, I would be hard pressed to escape, much less kill it. My speciality was an assassination, not a slugfest.
I carefully made my way to it, seeing its faint outline in the dark. I went towards its head, hoisting my spear as I did. One quick stab, and this would be over. But as I stepped down, I placed my weight on a loose stone. It shifted, and I felt my ankle go. I fell to the ground with a clatter, startling the beast.
Light flared, as it breathed a thin stream of pale flame. I shut my eyes against the sudden illumination, clutching my leg. I waited for it to strike. This would be it. The end of my long run as a dragon slayer.
"Are you ok?"
Its voice was higher then I expected. Not soprano range, but not the earthshaking deepness I had heard before. I shook my head in disbelief at the concern in its voice.
"Its OK. Let me have a look."
It touched me. I froze, my breath catching in my throat. Claws curled around my arms, and I tensed for the tear. But instead, it lifted gently but firmly. I couldn't stop such strength, and felt my arms move away from my ankle.
"Hmmm. I'm not an expert on humanoid anatomy, but that doesn't look right. Here."
It's claws shifted, grasping my back. I was lifted into the air with apparently little effort, before being deposited on something soft. I cracked open my eyes, shutting them immediately at the silver blur before me.
The claws retracted, and I felt it move away. I tried to open my eyes again, letting them adjust to the light. The cave slowly came into focus. A delicate chandelier hung from the ceiling, candles glowing that same pale colour as its fire. Around the interior, jewels sparkled from their place in the walls. A small pile of gold sat at one end.
But dominating the room was a large bookcase. It stood about as tall as a two-storey house, and it's shelves were packed tight. An enormous silver dragon stood on its hind legs infront of it, pulling a few books down. It turned to me, the light reflecting from the glasses delicately perched on its snout.
"Ah, one of these will help."
It lowered to my level, depositing a few books. I glanced at the titles. Hermans Guide to Bones. Goblin Anatomy 101. Massages for Beginners. Jilfers Wonder Cure Spells. It was a real hodgepodge. I coughed, and it looked at me.
"Um... what are you doing?"
It gestured at the books.
"Trying to figure out what's wrong with you, and how to fix you, obviously. This was my fault, I haven't swept in a few days."
"But, I'm a dragon slayer."
It grinned, showing off an alarming number of teeth.
"Oh I know that silly. But I don't hold that against you. If you want, we can always fight later."
I was very confused by the sudden turn of events.
"Wha.. why? You're a dragon! You hunt innocents."
I regretted my words as its face changed. At first I thought I was going to die. But I realised instead it was hurt.
"I... I don't hurt people."
It's eyes watered. Whatever desire I had left to kill it was quashed, as a dragon, the most powerful and terrifying creature of all, began to cry.
"I'm sorry."
It wiped an arm across its eyes.
"I... I just want to read and make friends."
It let out a sob. I felt awful. I scrabbled for my cloak, pulling it off and offering it up.
"Um... here."
It looked down at me, before reaching down with a delicate touch. My cloak, a lovely warm thing, flapped through the air as it blew its nose. I instantly wrote it off. I wasn't going to touch that.
"T-thank you."
As it calmed down, I awkwardly held up a hand.
"So. My name's Daven."
It let out a watery laugh, holding out a claw to me.
"I'm Chromas."
I smiled. This evening had taken a weird turn. But it was definitely for the better. | "It is a terrible beast!"
"Evil incarnate!"
"It torched my fields with its firey breath!"
"Just last night it carried off 4 more of my live stock!"
"Why aren't you doing anything?"
"What’s taking so long?"
"You're just taking us for our money and don't intend to do anything!"
Nag, nag, nag. That is all they have done since hiring me. Honestly, this job isn't easy and truth be told I'm doing it for next to nothing.
My mentor warned me about this job, said the people in these lands were difficult. But geez, even the pampered prince from my last job was no where near this bad.
This is a dragon after all. Not a troll, or a goblin, or orc. Dragons are smart and cunning. And unless they come to you, you have to hunt them.
I have to work hard to not run into the woods and foot hills. I don't want them to think I am running from them or worse, running away.
I start out by checking my traps, simple enough. No one could tell me how big the dragon was. So simple snares at first.
Heavy duty magical rope with live bait. It works better than you would think. Except, it didn't.
My bait was gone. Not eaten or killed. Just gone. No blood or body, just gone.
I collect my rope and moved on. Only I find the same thing at the others. Cage trap, unsprung. Bait gone. Pit fall, exposed spikes blunted. Magical goo, magical gone.
It's frustrating.
"I must say, they were great ideas." A rather cheery young female voice heavy with the local accent echoed in my ear.
"The last few hunters just sort of trudged about carelessly making a mess of things."
I look about, but all I see is the trees, and brush and a squirrel or two who just kind of looking at me before scampering off.
"I really liked that rope. That is some quality work there. Did you make it yourself?"
"Um, no." I am very confused, there is no one here.
"May I have it?"
"Where are you?"
"Oh, sorry, how rude of me"
There is a shimmer and a ripple to the air and my older sister is standing before me.
"What? Who is she? Do you fancy her? She was rather forward in your mind. She is very pretty. Oh, sorry, sorry. I took a peek inside so I would look like someone who wouldn't scare you. Who is she? I like her. Is that the rope? May I?"
I hand her the rope. Before I can ask who she is a set of wings, dragon wings spring from her back and she bounces from foot to excitedly as they flap just as fast. It reminded me of a child, her excitement.
"Are, are you the dragon?"
"What? Oh, yes yes. I am "A" dragon. Maybe not "The" dragon. But a dragon all the same."
I must of looked confused.
"I am the only dragon in the area and the one you are looking for. But honestly, I was hoping we could be friends. I do so hate fighting and frightening people."
I just stood there. I must have still looked confused.
She "tsked" at me rolled her eyes, like my sister always did, and she shimmered again. Now before me was indeed a dragon. A young dragon about the size of a horse. Her pink and green scales shined as she looked at me.
"There, better?"
"Well, I believe you are a dragon now."
"Good. Does that mean we are going to fight now. I really don't want to." She looked so sad.
"But the village said..."
"I know what they say. Close minded, ignorant, petty little ass holes. Told you I'm mean and scary, did they? The devil himself? How many fields did I burn today? Was it children or live stock I carried off. Honestly."
Understanding.
"They lied, you didn't do any of that?"
"No. I just wanted to be friendly. They want me dead. Probably think I have a mountain of gold they can claim if I am."
Now I felt bad.
"Why don't we go talk. I would love to hear your side of things."
Her eyes light up and she flaps her wings again, all giddy and girly. And in a flash she is my sister again, but she either forgot about or kept her horns, wings and tail.
I offer her my arm and she happily takes it before smooching my cheek.
"Come on than, this way. So, who is she?" | 2021-06-02T11:40:28 | 2021-06-02T10:01:04 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] Germany is actually predestined to lose every world war it participates in. The sixteenth world war is now being fought, and Germany has taken over all of Europe. Make them lose the war in the most ridiculous way possible. | “Were they planning this?” The General looked to the space command desk in the situation room.
The young intelligence officer did not look away from the holograph GUI showing satellite positions and low earth orbit vehicular traffic. “No activity, sir.” She tapped a few buttons and spoke, exasperated, “It doesn’t look like they even had their shields up.”
“Deception?” He started fiddling with the insignia on his cufflinks, clearly unnerved by this strange tactic. They had expected the nuclear strike on Berlin to fail, even anticipated it. Marines were ready to drop in from LEO once the enemy shields deflected the blasts.
“Sir, SatCom doesn’t show any troop activity over the last 24 hours out of Berlin. Intelligence still has the brass all convening there. They should be wiped out. Entirely, sir.”
The General cleared his throat. This is too easy, the Germans just captured all of Europe and don’t even defend themselves? Who lets their guard down like this? “Keep monitoring. Ops, tell the LEO troops to stand down. I will go inform the President.” He left the room as his phone vibrated with a third call in the last five minutes. As soon as the doors slid shut behind him, he answered it, unable to hide the annoyance in his voice, “Honey, I am at work… I cannot-”
The nagging voice on the other side of the phone spoke right over him, “Peter lost his term paper, he is freaking out. Is there a way to recover this?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your Son. His computer. It just restarted for no reason and he lost all his work. Now it says it is ‘Windows updating’ and has been stuck there for HOURS. I thought you could disable these things???”
“Jesus Christ, you have got to be kidding me.” No fucking way. He hung up the phone and ran back into the situation room, “Johnson, what was that intel brief we received last week about the German Defense Command?”
“Sir?”
“They used Windows 17 on their Defense network. We just won the war because of Windows Automatic Fucking Updates.”
| The year is 2198. The entire world has seen 15 world wars. All of which Germany has participated... and... err... lost. Y-yeah... they lost 15 times. This the 16th war, and everyone expects Germany to lose. People aren't taking Germany seriously anymore. Many keep joking about Germany.
But it looks like things will change now. Germany has actually taken over Europe and is starting to invade other parts. Their military...has... uhhh... haven't changed much... but it seems they're winning...And I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing. Well, I'm just a POW.. and they're about to kill me
Year 2199 and Germany is still winning. They've taken over Asia now. My execution was delayed...and now is the time for me to die...
Then all of a sudden every tank I could see just exploded. All planes crashed. And all ships sunk.
The reason why?? The dumbass lead mechanic/builder forgot to put a number 4 and a few **VERY INSIGNIFICANT** details on the blueprint. Without that stuff, well... everything would blow up.
I laughed my ass off at the explosion. I laughed so fucking hard I pissed myself. Germany lost again. But the machines exploded. Not the infantry. While I was laughing, they...errr...just shot me. | 2017-08-18T05:56:40 | 2017-08-18T02:09:31 | 54 | 15 |
[WP] You have a near-death experience that reveals you have a Guardian Angel protecting you... And you have the hots for her. You continue putting your life in danger in order to spend more time with her. | I woke up in that room again. The stark-white walls radiated with light and warmth. I sat up and looked around me. I was looking for *her* - for Lunaria.
Apparently we had "met" several times but it was only just recently that she revealed herself so I could see my guardian angel face to face. I woke up in that white room I mentioned earlier for our first meeting and she was standing at the foot of my bed, back turned to me. When she heard me stir she walked to the side of the bed.
"Patrick," she had said in a smooth, pure voice, "your time on Earth is not yet done. Your true purpose will soon be revealed."
She talked for a while about my true purpose but I had stopped listening at some point. I was distracted by her, well, her *everything*. She was gorgeous in every description imaginable. She made Jennifer Lawrence look like Joan Rivers in comparison. She made Kate Upton look like Larry King. You get the idea. Even her wings were like *sexy* wings - she was the whole package. When she snapped in my face everything went dark. She scolded me for being a klutz and told me how important it was that I listen to her and remain alive. The next time she snapped, I was back behind the wheel of my car which had sprouted a tree from the hood after I had dozed off and took a shortcut home. Through the side rail.
That was my first time meeting her, so I was anxious to know more. I began to wonder if I would see her again as I looked around, when I noticed the ceiling above me rippled slightly as two feet emerged. She slowly floated down, her descent silent and glorious.
"Patrick," she said again, "I do not believe you understand just how impor--."
"It's Pat. Please, my friends call me Pat," I said. "You look really nice today."
Her expression darkened. "Fine, *Pat*, you're not listening. I am doing my best to keep you alive and it seems you are doing your best to do otherwise. You have a very important role to play and it is only a matter of ti-- Are you serious with that right now?!"
I blushed and covered my lap with a pillow. "I'm sorry. I find your presence and your fury oddly...arousing."
"Okay, Patrick. I'll tell you what," she said, "I'm out. I signed up to watch over Earth's salvation, not some hormonal man-child. Nope." She turned on her heels and walked away, heading for the wall of white at the far end of the room. "And stop looking at my ass!" she yelled as she was enveloped by the rippling white.
*Snap*
Fast forward another week and I'm in the white room again. I was calling her bluff and I was desperate to see her again - my Lunaria. Just as I expected, she rippled through the far wall and sauntered to the foot of my bed.
"I had to see you again," I said. "I knew I could count on you."
She raised a hand to her shoulder and began to slide the fabric off. I broke out in a sweat. I didn't expect this, at least not so soon. I was nervous but the anticipation took over my emotions as I watched the fabric drop from her shoulder, exposing voluptuous and hairy...pecs? The toga fell to the floor to reveal chiseled abs and a decidedly horse-like complete with two black hooves. My gaze moved back up to see her perfect face had been replaced by the face of the devil himself.
He smirked as he said, "Welcome, *Pat*. It seems you've lost your way."
"I think there's been some kind of mistake," I replied. "I'm supposed to be important. Like salvation-of-the-Earth important. Something's wrong here."
"Oh, my dear Pat. They don't need you any more," the devil explained. "Someone else got the job and Lunaria called me up and told me to be expecting you. And here you are."
"This can't be happening. This can't be happening!" Patrick yelled as he searched frantically for a way through the walls.
"Oh, it is. Now, let's have some fun shall we?" the devil asked as he walked closer to Patrick. "Lunaria said you were hiding something in that lap of yours. I want to show you what I hide in mine." | “JOHN.” She shrieked with her lovely voice. “What in God’s name were you thinking?” She picked me up under my arms, and flew me right back to the top of the skyscraper. “John, you there?” She waved her hand in front of my face, as she set me down safely away from the building’s edge.
“Huh?” I shook my head trying to wipe off the goofy grin plastered to my face. “Yeah, yeah I’m here,” I looked back into her beautiful face.
“Stop staring at me like that.” She put her hands on her hips, and looked at me with her cute pouty face. “Seriously, stop. Why did you walk off that building?” She questioned.
“Uhm I don’t know, I don’t know. I just forgot where I was, and I guessed I just walked right off.”
“Really? You just strolled off. I don’t buy it. Are you suicidal? Because if you are, I have to hang around you more often.” She sighed.
“YES. I’m very suicidal, always thinking about it. Never can stop. You know what I may just walk off again.” I took a step off the edge a second time and awaited her soft embrace to save me. I felt her arms slip under mine, and the rush of the wind as I was carried back up to the top.
“You really have to think about getting therapy for this. I can’t be spending all day with you.” She set me down again on the hard surface of the rooftop.
“Yes you can. I’m like a baby. Gotta watch me twenty four hours a day.” I started to walk towards the edge again. Her touch filled me with bliss. But right before I stepped off, I felt a tug pull me back to safety. I turned around and there my Angel stood.
“John, snap out of it. I have other people to watch too.”
“But not as important as me. Right?”
“I don’t know you might make it to the top of the list the rate you’re going. And you’ll be beating out a stuntman who gets shot out of a cannon for a living. But seriously you need to think about counseling.” She insisted.
“Okay I promise I will. By the way what’s your name?” I asked.
“It’s Sarah.” She said cautiously. “Why do you need to know. This relationship we have here isn’t my decision. I was assigned you and other people to protect.”
“This is only my second time seeing you. It’s already a relationship.” I stammered. I covered my mouth and stared at her. “That was not supposed to be out loud." I nervously informed her. Sarah just raised an eyebrow at me. My nerves were starting to kick in. Things don’t go well after I learn their name, and it definitely didn’t help that this girl was so stunning.
“Listen here, John, I’m a Guardian Angel. This relationship or whatever you think it is, isn’t real. I’m just here to protect you.” She tried to explain, but all I did was stare at her adoringly. She rolled her perfect blue eyes, and sprouted her pure white wings.
“Wait don’t go anywhere.”
“John, I have other people to attend to. It’s not just you.” She said down to me, as she rose up into the sky.
“How can I reach you?” I pleaded to her as she rose higher towards the clouds. All she did was point to the edge. I just smiled at her and slowly walked towards the precipice. I looked up at her and then down towards the street below. Right off I went, then came the familiar embrace and rush of wind.
| 2015-08-12T23:06:06 | 2015-08-12T21:40:35 | 36 | 23 |
[WP] The one person none of the heroes or villains fucks with is known as "The Mad Doctor". he treats anyone who seeks his help, in exchange everyone turns a blind eye when he shows up to underprivileged neighborhoods to deliver free and technically illegal care. the new guy learns the hard way. | I grew up poor. I mean, not poor poor but poor y'know? My parents didn't give me an allowance, I never had the new cool shoes the other kids had at school which sucked because shoes were the only things we got to choose at my boarding school. My dad gave me his hand-me-down leather business shoes, always had a new pair when I threw the last ones away. Only ever got to get the shoes I wanted by selling the ones I took. I'd wear the ones I acquired non monetarily, but they were always too small. That's the way I am, self reliant, picking myself up by someone elses's bootstraps. I work hard, now I have cozy shoes.
My dad's dead now. Yeah, I'm sorry too. Good news is I have an allowance now, spending it's a bit like that father son time I never got. I figure my dad always wanted me to do good, so that's what I do. Lots of heros around now-a-days thanks to the Lawframes, anyone can strap into an exosuit with a police radar and be ready to dispense justice after a quick test to make sure you're smart enough. I went to a boarding school, started my own business selling shoes, and now I'm a multimillionaire, I'm pretty smart.
So now here I am on the corner of Fuckin and Nowhere in downtown City Hellscape looking for some action. I asked some kid if he knew where to find some drug dens, he looked at me like I was an idiot and just walked away. Dumb fuck. This is why these "urbanites" never get to be heros, too fucking dumb from their public schools.
I walked into a gas station, I love the sound of my metal treads on the tile floor. People shut the fuck up when I'm around and that's the way I like it. Can't sling crack when you're too afraid to talk. I bought myself a pack of tobacco to pack my lip and some whiskey to refill my flask, almost ran out of my justice fuel. After that I go out hunting for some low down drug addicts again.
As I exit the store I hear the murmuring between the isles start up again just before the door shuts behind me. Leave these thugs alone for two seconds and they're back to their shady shit. Whatever. I'll get them one day. I'm smart, they're crack addicts. I look around hoping to see some guy stumbling around and screaming, too high to think straight like I've seen in those LiveLeak videos. I figured I'd see one after a couple months but I've never had very good luck. Then I see that kid again. That's twice now and two times is a pattern. I don't like patterns.
"Hey, what's your name?" I ask as I begin walking towards him. He gives me that look again, like I'm some public school moron, then starts walking away from me. And these urbanites really wonder why cops don't like them. "I'm talking to you! Are you deaf?" The kid is speeding up now, dumb fuck. I start speeding up, my exosuit kicks in and in a second I'm plowing thirty miles an hour at this kid and he's still running. Dumb shit really thinks he can escape!
I accidentally hit the kid hard, I'm not used to this exo thing yet so it's not my fault. He's on the ground moaning, his left leg is bent at the shin. "Shouldn't have run kiddo! Why are you following me?"
The kid starts crying, I don't feel bad though, tears are for the innocent. "I w-wasnt! I was walking home!" He says. Likely story. I see his backpack is pretty heavy looking so I pick it off him, he screams as roll him around to get it off of him. I open it up and pour it on the ground. He's got comics, figurines and some D&D looking nerd shit.
"This doesn't look like school stuff, my man! Why are you skipping?" I ask.
"It's July!" He responds before breaking back into sobs. I don't know how that's relevant. At this point people start gathering around. I'm getting excited, looks like we're going to have a proper riot! "Back up people! This isn't any of your business!" I say. I wait for them to charge like they do at cops in the videos, but they don't. They just stand there, staring at me quietly. It's a little creepy. "You all nodding off or what? What the fuck is going on?"
Then I hear a new voice come from behind me. It sounds distorted, like a computer is pretending to be a human. "Compound fracture to the left tibia and fibula. Will need to be put in a cast for at least three months. Surgery? Maybe. Physical therapy? Definitely." I hear.
"What the fu-" I begin to try to turn around but my Lawframe is locked up. "Wha- what's happening?" I ask trying to jerk myself around to see who's talking behind me.
"Martha, would you please attend to the boy. I must speak with this fool in the exosuit." The man says. I see a woman, an off duty nurse still in her scrubs, nods and rushes to the boy. I bellow at her to back off but she doesn't listen. "You have caused harm to this community, this community who has been placed under my protection. Do not bother to try to move, I have already taken control of your flimsy Lawframe. Observe." Suddenly my left leg's frame begins to bend in the wrong direction. I scream in agony as I feel my knee pop from its joint and fold up towards my hip. "A leg for a leg, fair I would say. Unfortunately this will end your career in... Helping. But I am not without mercy..." The man who is still behind me says in his mechanical voice, it's keening edge still reaching my ears over my screams. "I can smell the alcohol on your breath. Because I am so merciful I will help you help this community to heal by putting your kidneys and liver to better use."
"Wh-what?" I ask I try to turn around but all I manage is to overload the stabilizing gyros on my suit, already strained from balancing me with only one leg. I topple to the ground and I see for the first time the man who was behind me, now standing over ne. He's ancient, his olive tone skin pocked with moles and liver spots. His milky eyes behind thick rims have no emotions behind them. His body is carried by an exosuit I've seen before but only on the snuff films of cops and heros on liveleak. I realize then that this is the Mad Doctor.
He kneels down to me, a long thin needle protrudes from his finger. "This will sting for but a moment. Then you will get very sleepy. You will awaken in a few hours, then the real science will begin." The needle slips in to my neck, I try to scream but my mouth has gone numb, sound fades and the world vanishes. | Going off very little sleep and almost 24h awake so hopefully it’s not as bad as I think it is.
——————————————————————————
The command center was quiet as the resident hero, Penance, worked by himself. Images flashed across the large monitor in front of him. Each one cast an eerie glow across the otherwise dark room.
The calm was broken as the doors to the room suddenly flew open. In strode the young Ace, Penance’s latest project. “I got him.” He proudly proclaimed.
The older hero paused the onslaught of photos and turned slowly to greet the intruder. “You got him?” He asked, gaze drifting towards the unmarked folder in his hand.
“Yea, I took what you said to heart. I should show more initiative. That’s what I did, I found Frostbite.” Ace threw the folder at his mentor, knowing he wouldn’t catch him by surprise.
“Didn’t even drop it that time.” Penance teased, nudging the folder open.
“You really gotta let that go…”
“It was a grenade. I think I’m allowed to tease you about dropping a grenade.” He thumbed through what appeared to be photos of an abandoned building. “What am I looking at?”
“It’s an old hospital. Frostbite was injured after the incident today, so I figured he’d be looking for some off the book treatment.” Ace lifted off the ground and floated lazily about the air. “And get this, he wasn’t the only one there.”
“Who else?” Penance prompted.
“There were heros and villains. Some civies too.”
“Find out who’s running it?”
“Guy named The Mad Doctor far as I could tell. Everyone was kinda hush hush in there, but he seems to be the one in charge. Think he was out while I was there though. You think he makes house calls?” The younger hero laughed at his own joke.
“I know he does. You’re not gonna like it, but we can’t take Frostbite down there. That’s against the rules.” Penance took the folder in hand and threw it towards the open trash can in the corner.
“Agaisnt the rules? This guy tried to freeze half a dozen people in a bank today, I don’t think he cares about rules!”
“He cares about this one.” The mentor stood, reaching his full six foot height. “It’s off limits. You only go there when you’re hurt and have nowhere else to turn. No fighting. That’s the rule.”
“He’s a sitting duck. If you won’t bring him in, I will.” Without another word the younger hero flew through the doors once more.
Penance sat back down with a grumble. He was sure the boy would learn this lesson eventually.
Wind buffeted Ace’s face as he floated conspicuously above the old hospital. He was there, one quick move from capturing Frostbite, but he couldn’t. As much as he might want to, his mentor’s talk of ‘The Rule’ weighed on his mind.
The grass bent gently as the hero touched down as quiet as he could. To his surprise he was immediately met with an unassuming civilian rushing out of the front doors.
“What’s the problem?” They asked, escorting a confused Ace into the building.
“Problem?” He tried floating upwards to avoid their grasp but he was simply tugged along through the lobby.
“This is a meta hospital. Off the books. You wouldn’t be here unless you needed help. Stop flying.”
“No, I don’t need help.” He said touching down once again. “I’m here to apprehend someone.”
The civilian immediately stiffened at the revelation. “I think you need to speak with the Doctor.”
“I concur.” Came a voice from the hallway in front of them. In stepped well dressed man of early middle age.
“The Mad Doctor, I presume?”
“Correct. Ace?”
“How did-“
“Penance called ahead. We go back him and I, he’s been a patient here before.” The doctor laughed at Ace’s skeptical expression. “Frankie why don’t you return to your desk and allow us to hash this out? Perhaps some tea even?”
The civilian nodded and dashed out of the lobby.
“If you know who I am and why I’m here, then this should be easy.” Ace clenched his fists. “Hand over the fugitive known as Frostbite.”
“I’m sorry son, that’s against the rules. Neutral territory you know, complicates things.”
“I won’t ask again. Hand him over.”
“Or?” The doctor challenged.
“Or I go through you.” He spat.
“Go through us.” A deep voice corrected from behind him.
As Ace turned to confront the interloper he couldn’t quite beleive his eyes. Thunderclap, Firebird, Frostbite, Heavy Step, Brain Matter, an eclectic group of heros and villains stood before him. Shoulder to shoulder they stood their ground, ready to fight.
“Why do this?” Ace pleaded. “These are known criminals. You of all people should know better than this Thunder.”
“The way I see it,” Thunder said. “You came here looking for a fight. We’re just giving you what you want. You can still walk away.”
“And just let the criminals go?” He scoffed.
“Yes.” Was the Doctor’s simple reply. “Because this is bigger than you. Do you know why this is neutral territory? Because I’m the only person with the know-how to fix you supes up when you’re broken.”
“And because he doesn’t do it for free.” Thunder continued.
“The Doc here fixes us up.” Said Frostbite.
“And in return the Villains protect him in the shadier parts of town.” Firebird this time.
“And the heroes turn a blind eye to his technically illegal medical practice.” Heavy step elaborated.
“That’s why they call me The Mad Doctor. I’m not crazy, I’m angry. Angry at the world for refusing the helpless the care they need. So I care for them. Illegal migrants, the homeless, orphans, teens kicked out onto the street. I provide what I can. And I need their help to do it. Hence the neutral zone.”
For perhaps the first time in his life, Ace was at a loss for words. If he’d known… if he’d listened to Penance. He was unsure what to say so Ace did what he always did and relied on his instincts in time of need. And so the first thing out of his mouth was “How can I help?” | 2022-10-13T10:10:30 | 2022-10-13T10:02:39 | 874 | 260 |
[WP] Being a human in human studies class, you’re often asked to confirm information.
. | The hummingbird was closer to the window than it had ever been. It was quite a beauty. I imagined what it would be like to be a hummingbird gliding from flower to flower quite literally stopping to smell the flowers on the highway of life. Then I remembered that hummingbirds can’t actually smell. How cruelly ironic. Imagine having an existence that is all about flowers but you are forever doomed to never be able to smell them. It’s like a curse straight out of mythology. What could a hummingbird have done to warrant the wrath of gods like that? How is no one talking about it?
“Mr. Nelson!” boomed the voice of the teacher.
“I have a question for you”.
There it was. The attention of the class was on me again. Mr. Williams was going to ask me a question...again.
“While serving no useful purpose in survival, they have nevertheless been a part of you since recorded history. How have you personally come to terms with the knowledge that as a human male, you are forever doomed to have the largely purposeless apparatus of nipples?”
I sighed with the subtlety of a wrecking ball going through a castle of porcelain. Everyone’s eyes were on me. Mr. Williams’ big, round eyes were even more big and round which I knew only happens when his kind becomes especially curious. Or aroused. I chose to believe it was the former.
“Well..I” I started to form words. “I never had a - um - problem wit-with mine. I don’t really think about them so much you know, like, I go through many days in a row without really, like, ever thinking about them. They are just - kinda there.”
“ F A S C I N A T I N G” enunciated Mr. Williams with a sound that was quite unworldly and I could only liken it to a reptilian hiss.
“You focus your mental faculties on the menial and mundane tasks of everyday life and don’t let the burden of the knowledge of the futility of the nipples make you despondent”
“Uh - yes, I try to um..the... live in the moment.”
“You humans are curious beings!” There were many more reptilian hisses of amazement all around led by Mr. Williams.
I was one of the few humans chosen for the experimental exchange program between Earth and V-428. Quite a while ago Earth was made a member of the Frontier Reconnaissance of Intergalactic Educational Norms Department or FRIEND. Since then we have been sending humans to schools on V-428 and the ‘Vrals’ to schools on Earth to observe and learn from each other. Vrals even made the effort of making some locales, the ones where humans reside, to look more like Earth including a functioning ecosystem full of birds and flowers and insects. Vrals were fairly humanoid with bluish-green skin, smooth as glass, and big black eyes. As I sat back down, one of my Vral classmates - a female (which was evident to me due to several physical markers I spent hours learning about when I first learned that I was selected for the exchange program), who was seated next to me leaned towards me and whispered,
“I want to taste your brain..”
Our translator machines did a fairly decent job of translating our languages for each other. But there were some words in the Vral language that simply didn’t map onto English which, embarrassingly enough, was the only language I spoke and vice-versa. This was one of those moments where one wouldn’t know whether to be flattered or terrified. Having been on their planet for quite some time, I knew that she just wanted to know more about how my human brain functioned. Like, she wanted to consume the information that originated in my brain. Probably.
“Is it true that humans enjoy ingesting food that causes suffering?”
“Uh, oh I know what you are asking. Yes, we love spicy food!”
“Is it true that you humans like moving your bodies to organized sounds?”
“Yup we love our dancing”
“Is it true that humans tend to exploit their planet, fellow humans, and other creatures for short-term gains while ignoring the long-term consequences of their actions? Do you personally follow such behavior patterns?”
“I-er- no, I.. don’t think so.”
At that point, I drew my gaze away and fidgeted with my pen uncomfortably while being well aware that her eyes were fixed upon me.
“Then you and I can be allies. Welcome.”
I slowly lifted my head and tried to look back at her. Her eyes were big and round much like Mr. Williams’ a short while ago. And it only meant one of two things. I smiled tentatively. | The professor, at the front of the class, was writing on the board the three most important rituals of the primitive human.
"See here class, the human is a strange creature," said the professor, "During their mating season they will gather around a loud music box," he walked to one side of the class staring at the crowd gathered in the classroom, ”and, during such gathering, they'll thrust their hips and flail their arms in order to spread they're gene," he hurried to his human diaporama, pointing at the armpit "through a special gland under the armpit called the prolific pit gland, they do so using a watery substance they called the chick magnet."
Murmure of students permeated the classroom. “Settle down everyone,” exclaimed the professor. “To maximize reproduction probability, they’ll invent a multitude of techniques called the mating dances. As seen on this video." The professor played a video of humans doing the hustle, the floss and the macarena.
The students giggled. The professor smiled. Aaron was embarrassed. “Anything you would like to add, Human Aaron of the Earth colonies?”, asked the professor.
“No, sir. Sounds about right to me,” Aaron kept his eyes down, he knew better than to question the professor.
“Now the second most important ritual to the primitive Human primate,” said the professor, “is the communal parenting ritual.” The professor paused. “You see, in human primitive culture, the child is educated by multiple parents.” The professor walked along the black board to the other side of the classroom. “The two main parents will attempt to control the child through withdrawal of love.” The class gasped. The professor nodded. “I know, I know quite primitive indeed,” he exclaimed “Usually, one of the parents, the dominant, will get the upper hand on the other parent, the submissive, after a long arduous conversation through screaming and posturing. Resulting in a sense of inferiority in the child.” The professor walked to a picture of Santa Claus –who has a child on his lap– hanging on the wall. “The child will usually find consolation in electronics, and other knick-knacks, which were given to them by the red father.” The class turned to face Aaron the Human.
Aaron tried to keep his eyes down, and pretended to be reading the textbook on human studies. The professor gazed at him. “Well, Human Aaron from the colonies of Earth, what else can you tell us about the red father?” Aaron rubbed his face and leaned on his hand. “Yes professor, the Red Father brings us toys to help us deal with our controlling parents, but only if we’ve been good, those who are naughty get coal.” Aaron faked a smile.
The professor nodded, “Coal, how interesting,” he carried on. “Lastly this semester, We will also go over the defecating ritual of the primitive human.” The classroom erupted in laughter. “A bit of seriousness class!” said the professor, “This is the human most enjoyable ritual and they are very sensitive about it.” Pointing to Aaron, “Isn’t it right Human Aaron?”
Aaron bit his lips, and whispered to himself “please god, don’t”
The professor walked to the textbook laying on his desk, “If everyone could turn to page 56, there you will see the primitive human doing what they call: giving a shit.” Aaron buried his face in the textbook. The professor carried on, “While giving a shit, the primitive human will usually, announce it to their companions by expressing a small release of gaseous words from their bottom mouth, before running around their dwelling searching for reading material, in the events they find no such reading manuals, they will for go giving a shit altogether.”
Ashamed, Aaron nodded, while the class gasped. | 2021-11-14T10:07:52 | 2021-11-14T08:03:29 | 330 | 89 |
[WP] You're the last human in a civilized world of vampires, werewolves and other legendary monsters. You only exist in bedtime stories used to scare children. You've been able to keep your existence secret until one day, you're finally discovered. | Most of the "adults" nowadays don't belive I'm real. All of the ones who knew of my existence were killed by my so-called allies when I was merely a ten-year-old. So sweet and innocent. But not sweet and innocent enough.
Now I live a life in the shadows, as a twenty-two year old, leeching off of a gaggle of succubi. I give them some of their ever sought after human energy, and they give me food and keep quiet about my existance. We're both prisoners in this endless dragging cycle.
I have no idea if I'm the last human alive. For about six years I was communicating over walkie talkie with a boy named Cole, who claimed to be human. He stopped responding last year, and I fear the worst. Still, I push through.
Occasionally, young children come looking for me. I'm a tale in their bedtime stories they want to find. A few have even found me, but they were far too young for anyone to belive them.
A knock on my cabin door sounded through my small abode. I checked the date on my calendar. 14-02-XX. It was trade day. Odd. Usually the succubi would just come in and call my name. I felt a pit grow in my stomach. This wasn't the succubi.
I ran to the cupboards and grabbed out my simple makeshift costume, worn to deter any stray monsters at my door. I hid my blonde hair away and distorted my green eyes. Covering my face in white powder and placing fake fangs over my teeth. Just in case, I grabbed a silver knive and wooden stake.
My heart pounded a rhythmic melody as I walked to the door. I turned the brass handle and opened the wood door just a crack.
"Hello? Who are you and what are you doing here?"
"Lilly?" Came a shaking voice through the door. I practically dropped the items in my hand. I knew that voice. I flung the door open and thought I was dreaming.
"Cole?" | -For fuck's sake! Could you guys just fucking leave me alone? I did nothing wrong and you have no right showing up here questioning me! - I yelled at the officer whose teeth are still dripping blood.
- Sir, we believe there have been a couple reports regarding your ... threat.
- THREAT!? You're addressing me as a threat now? This is ridiculous!
- Not us but your neighbors. They say that you're scaring the kids and that ... that you're a human.
- Look, you guys showing up here in front of my HOUSE is what MAKES the kids scared of me. What are they gonna think of me now? Some sort of criminal? And human? Since when is being a human a fucking crime?
- um ... since forever sir. We have all learnt that in tales. That humans are up to no good. You know ... like shooting silver at werewolves and hanging us vampires on tree.
- TALES!? You're using tales to fucking accuse me of a crime!? Do you even know what law is? What kind of a officer are you.
- Sir, my apologies but only humans use law ...
- OMG fuck off. | 2019-01-31T11:59:21 | 2019-01-31T10:11:08 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | "Death by Hubris!" I proclaim with a self satisfied smile.
"Hubris," the officiant responds, dryly. "That is your choice?"
"Exactly," I say, grinning at the old fool's expression. "Like in the tales. A hero is given a challenge, some trial to overcome. It's of course, not inherently impossible, but the hero fails and dies due to some human flaw, or other." I look about the room. Surely, the others in attendance must see my genius. Instead, I am greeted by the bored faces of a dozen odd functionaries, clearly unaware that they were witnessing the historic defeat of their ancient court.
"Very well," the leader of the group intoned, lifting his staff, and striking the marble floor. "Death by Hubris."
"You idiots!" I exclaim as the ruling is finalized. "Can't you see what you've done? You've made me immortal!" I start laughing, exalting in the ease with which I'd defeated the law. "You cannot kill me!" I continue, as they needed to understand my accomplishment. "I am keenly aware of my abilities, and unfailingly cautious. Even for this decision, I pondered for _years_ as you struggled to catch me! There is no challenge you can set me to where _I_ will be my downfall! I-"
I cut off, collapsing to the floor. Apparently, it had been hubris to believe I could survive this trial. | As I watched the prisoner rapidly age into a shriveled prune-like corpse, I realized it was my turn. I looked upon my executioner who asked how I would like to die. I looked at him and said "...turn me into a shroud of petals, and let me scatter across the wind..."
The magemaster said "A beautiful passing, my friend." He turned to the executioner & said "Make it so", and then it happened. I felt my body start to break apart. Oddly enough, it didn't hurt. After some time, my body was nothing more than flower petals, flowing in the wind. | 2021-06-24T11:15:28 | 2021-06-24T10:52:15 | 28 | 14 |
[WP] you always had a peculiar ability, you can the see the quality of the objects you pick up. Like a video game, they are labeled "common", "uncommon" and so on. This had helped you decide what to buy and stuff but everything changed when you picked up something that said "unobtainable" | (I wanted to try something new, so I hope you enjoy.)
I stared afte her while she walked down the hallway, unable to believe my eyes. She was so beautiful, with her long flowing hair, her sparkling hazel eyes, her blindingly white smile, and even her slightly crooked and bent glasses sitting on her nose. She was so ordinary, yet so mystical and hypnotizing.
This shouldn't be possible, I thought. I've never seen a label on another person before.
Yet there it was, hovering above her head, visible only to me. My power has never put labels on humans before, so she was no ordinary human, and after that day I vowed to do everything in my power to make her mine.
After first approaching her, we quickly established a friendship, and a few weeks of talking she agreed on going on a date with me. Our relationship began taking off, where we were officially a couple.
One day during lunch, after a few years of dating, she asked looked me in the eye and, with a smile on her face, asked, "So, has my label changed yet?"
I was so taken aback this, I physically reacted by spitting out my drink and staring dumbfounded at her. "How... how did you...?"
"How did I know?" She was still smiling at me, sweetly. "I can see them too."
"Do... Do I have one?" I asked slowly.
"Yes dear, you always have." She took a small bite of her food, but never broke eye contact.
"What does it say?" I asked, getting a little excited.
She looked at me a moment, then answered. "Common." She said it so flatly that I was devastated by it. "Now then, what about mine?"
"Unobtainable." I said softly.
She seemed surprised. "Unobtainable? I never thought it was that high." She thought for a second before continuing. "Well, I guess you beat the odds then, huh?"
She laughed, and I joined in. We've been dating for a few years now, and we've never been happier, and I am going to propose to her soon. Her label still says unobtainable, but we are going to see how true that actually is. After all...
Labels aren't always right. | I smiled widely as I picked it up, I had looked forward to this day for months! When this would finally happen. This had always been my dream, my wish to have this happen. See I have a very weird gift, if you go to a game stop I can tell which one of the games to buy if you ever want a good price on resale. I am a goddess of flea markets because when I touch something, I can tell it's value by a range of words from Common to Legendary. When I held this item, I was waiting for the Legendary thing to pop up. But instead I was completely shocked when I saw a word I had never seen before.
"unobtainable" That's... Weird. I looked at it with confusion, I was expecting Legendary, not this. As I came out of my mind and finally everything in world came into the clear again, the beeping of the monitor, the nurses and doctors rushing in to check on me and my husband. As I held my child, I smiled, it made sense. Because there was only one of my son, only one. A grinned, though it probably looked like I was high from how little sleep I had gotten, but it was all worth it. Just to hold my child. My unobtainable.
I chuckled a little as my son opened his eyes, his beautiful electric blue eyes, I finally spoke, though it was just a whisper. Just loud enough for the three of us to hear it, "Welcome to the world Jordan." I whispered fondly. | 2019-06-26T00:29:46 | 2019-06-26T00:04:37 | 71 | 13 |
[WP] The commute of a man who can see how people will die.
EDIT: Just woke up and holy CRAP this exploded! I'm reading through all the stories now and they're great! | I hate the bus. Every morning at 7:18, the number 14 bus pulls up to my stop and I am forced to bear the burden of my "gift". As the bus pulls up to my stop, an old classmate Randy opens the door and asks "Long time no see! Today the day Ted?" I laugh him off with a lighthearted "Not yet Randy, but may want to lay off those burgers if you want to see Rebecca graduate." I take my same seat that I always take, right behind the driver, and try to read the morning paper.
Everyone knows who I am. The expose piece in the daily mail that boasted of my psychic powers skyrocketed me to fame. My face was suddenly plastered over talk shows and news stories about how I could correctly predict the exact time, place, and manner in which someone will die. They always stare at me-- their very own grim reaper-- knowing that I’ve already seen you draw your last breath.
The worst are the children. I try to focus on my paper to avoid eye contact, but every so often a child will exclaim "Oh it's him!" and I will inadvertently catch their gaze. It is never easy to see a child die. I always am relieved to see an image of an elderly man passing in a bed peacefully surrounded by his loved ones. Most often I do not. Today was different though. A boy was on the bus with his father. His new firefighter backpack matched his bright fire house red shoes. “Today is my first day of school!” he chirped excitedly as he brushed his bangs away from his eyes. I prayed that he would not try and get my attention. I didn’t need to see what would become of him.
I flipped to the obituary section of the paper, a sick validation for a skill that I already knew I had mastered. As we rounded a corner, the boy’s lunch box tipped off of his lap and slid to my feet. *Fuck*. As I looked over my paper I caught his gaze as he tried to retrieve his juice box from the floor. I waited for the vision of his death to come, but it never did. All I saw was a happy boy, excited to start his new life as a “big kid” in kindergarten, picking up his lunch that his mother packed for him. I felt a wave of relaxation rush over me. I did not have to see how this boy would die; his life would forever be a mystery in my mind. I smiled, closed my eyes, and leaned back as a drunk driver blew through a red light and t-boned the bus.
| I watch quietly as two teenage boys harrass an elderly woman at the front of the car. The dark haired one tries to get her purse away from her, while the blonde boy screams in her face.
"Do you want to see?" the voice whispers in my ear.
"Yes."
When the cloudiness fades, the dark haired boy is walking through an alley. He seems to be intently moving, as though he has somewhere to be.
"Pete!" shouts a voice from out of sight.
The boy turns, and I can see him smile.
"Come here!" the voice says.
The dark haired boy turns into one of the side roads where the blonde boy is standing with his hands in his pockets.
"Henry, what fuckin' reason do you have to be out here this time of the day?" says Pete with a grin as he approaches Henry.
"Tom says hi, you piece of shit," Henry says as he pulls a knife from his pocket and lunges at Pete.
The knife punctures deep into Pete's neck. Pete removes the pistol tucked in his waistband and fires three shots into Henry's chest and face, killing him instantly. Pete sits down beside Henry's body with blood pouring out of the wound where the knife remains. He leans forward, and his chest slowly stops rising and falling. Both boys now lie motionless in a pool of their mixed blood.
Our momentum slows as the tram approaches my stop. The doors open, and I gather my things and begin to leave. I stop for a moment at the door. I could warn him. I could warn Pete of the ambush and save both of these boys' lives.
"Give me your goddamn purse you old wench!" screams Pete.
I turn and walk through the doors onto the platform leaving the boys to their fate. Perhaps the world will be a slightly better place without them. | 2013-10-16T11:54:11 | 2013-10-16T11:53:29 | 245 | 14 |
[WP] After hearing complaints countless times the hero just turns himself in and goes to prison. Now that the villains are destroying the city and running wild everyone is trying the convince the hero to come out and save the day. But the hero is not having any of this shit | “What you in for"
Good question. What am I in for. “I don’t wanna talk about it" I snarl. Keeping my face hidden from view, as a slump into what passes for a bed. After all I have given for this city, couldn’t they have given me a proper bed. Philistines, all of them.
My cell mate persists in trying to engage me in conversation. Talking about all the ‘devious shit' he'd done.
“Man, *please* shut up. I don’t give a dead rats last shit" not my best insult, but the constant barrage of curses and idiocy was boring a hole though my skull. My patience was not going to last.
“Hey, don’t you take that tone-" the inmate doesn’t finish the sentence. A strangled noise comes from him as my gaze hits him. Metaphorically, of course. I cant bludgeon people with my eyes. That would be absurd. Anyway, that’s kev's thing. No, he, who had whittled away my temper with inane stories of his prowess and bravery and bullshit attitude, wilted at the terror he faced.
“One day. No, not even that. It took you all of two hours to cause me trouble.” Enter asshat supreme warden Mendez. The guy who had celebrated at my voluntary capture, hounded me at every turn. Scorned every life I’d saved. “I mean, what did you expect? Putting me in with that half baked nutter" it’s not like I even hurt him. Much.
“I'm sure you were *doing us all a big old flavour*, huh!” he made a sound almost entirely unlike laughter, “well, to hell with your *morals*. The city is safer than ever. Not so much as a broken window.” He leans in close enough for me to see individual hairs up his nose. “What, cat got your tongue. Where’s the wit? Where’s your defense of you actions being *for the good of the city*? Hmm?” Ok. I’ll tell him where *my* wit is.
Right. Not my best plan. At least its quiet here...
In *solitary*
Two, maybe three weeks now.
No, five
Six
The banging of the metal door after so long with no sound reverberated around my skull, ringing it like a bell. Nevertheless, I looked the woman up and down. The way she held herself suggested, no, *radiated* covert.
That, and the badge.
“Who the fuck are you supposed to be? Scully?” never one to miss a quip, me.
“I suppose that would make me Mulder” said and idiot behind her.
“Shut it, the both of you.” The agent snapped, “Ms. Nigard-"
“It’s Nee-gore"
“Is it, don’t mind if I don’t give a damn.” Oh, so that’s why people hit me so hard when I do sarcasm
“Listen up kid, “ kid, *really!*, “crime is up 150% since your capture"
“Oh yeah! Sucks to be you. I’m sure it’s nothing *trained professionals* cant handle better than a common criminal”
“Oh, my dear-"
“Call me a summer child and they’ll have to sent me to the Raft and you to get your head re-attached"
“As fun as that might be, we feel... we owe... some of us...,” She squirmed, “an...”
“A what? You trailed off there”
“*An apology!*”
“Too bad” I sang “I'm not in the biz anymore. My tools are gone, my base trashed. And besides I kinda like this. Three squares, no company. Safety. I’m through being a hero"
Two more weeks
Then they came again
And again
Something began to give in me. In my 'profession' you get to know pleading. You get to see it, plain as day. You see it when a villain is beat. When a loved one is in a burning building. Or a rubble pile. In the face of a dying person. In the faces around them. It's not often you see it in the face of special agents, though.
Tough | Shine just stared blankly at the upper bed of their local prison's bunk bed, There were only a few prison cells and beds they could afford yet a homeless teenage hero like him was one of the chosen few to get a taste of prison life. His wide eyes blinked as he thought what was wrong with him when his morals were all correct, that is based on his mother that is. Even though it be biased, Shine still knew how "justice" and "human rights" work, if that is what lawyers call it. Until he realized that it may not be so bad here, it's been a long while since he's lied down in a comfy bed and the prison was quiet and peaceful, he had food, pretty chill prisoner friends, and some time to think for himself without the mayors or the governor calling out for him when trouble happens. Here, he's got all the time for himself. He doesn't need to work for food nor be called by his hero alias, "Shine", instead he gets to reminisce being called his actual name, Syth.
He smiled as he looked out the prison window, he finally notices small details like birds chirping and the raindrops falling from the trees. Until suddenly the prison's front desk was in chaos, the governor was there, yelling for his name.
"Shine! Shine!" The governor yelled as he trembled towards Syth's cell, Syth looks his direction and groans lightly.
"We need you, my boy!" The governor continued agitated. Syth only looked at him dreadfully, as if he longed for this moment in his life.
"What's wrong, my boy??" The ~~cliche~~ governor asked.
"Just look for a new one yourself..." Syth responded like a tired little boy being forced by his playmate to play a new game with him.
"Why, Sh-Shine!!" The governor said as he rattled the cell's metal bars. "Governor Aldrin, I have decided to stay in this prison for eternity, and I'll bet my living heart for it!" Syth exclaimed though he still sounded like a lazy little cinnamon roll.
"Syth Melbourne!" Aldrin demanded like he was Syth's only parent, technically, he is the only few close friends who knows of Syth's identity. Syth then sat up and looked at him seriously, lucky his head didn't hit the bed above him, he is small after all.
"Aldrin please... you know I've always longed for a life like this. A quiet life and sooome time to think..." Syth really just felt tired to Aldrin's eyes at this point, he's never done such a tone before but now, I guess he's like this all throughout their conversation. Syth looked very dazed as his eyes focus went everywhere as he spoke.
"But Syth- the town is in need of your assistance! All your fellow superpowered enemies-"
"Not a problem!" Syth cut him off, "Just a little bippity-boppity-boo and town cooperation can help you thrive!" He said cheerfully as he pointed up a finger.
"Syth!!!" Aldrin cried.
"Aldrinnn, my replacements are out there..." Syth said as he went back in bed to sleep, this conversation seemingly drained all his energy. Aldrin whimpered in ten different sounds before deciding to leave our lazy little hero.
"You're bloody insane!" | 2021-03-18T19:14:31 | 2021-03-18T15:37:21 | 47 | 22 |
[WP] It has been verified that dying will result in going to heaven, no matter what. You are the government, trying to lower the suddenly skyrocketing suicide rate. | "Tom, we've got to do something."
"I understand, Bill."
"How many?"
"So far? We might as well be handing out Kool-Aid on the streets."
Bill slammed his fist on the table. "Tom, tell me. Tell me how this got out."
"It was the Russians, of all people. They were the first to figure out the algorithm for the subatomic super positioning. Upon reaching the conclusions of their experiments, the scientists were the first to take their own lives."
"But, that doesn't explain –"
"Let me finish. You, me, and all the rest of the US government officials can sit here and debate this until time collapses inward. The only real things you need to understand at this moment, is that the infinite series of moments we perceive as time are already laid out for us, by higher dimensions."
Bill took a sip of his coffee, listening intently. He had clearly not slept, or eaten a proper meal in a very long time. He squinted his eyes, trying to make sense of all of this.
"Tom, I'm the leader of this country. But I'm not afraid to say that this is all going over my head."
Tom scratched his face, trying to think of a way to explain.
"When we live, we are bound by four dimensions. We can move freely in three, but we are forced to walk forward in the fourth. Only death frees us from this constraint. We were once afraid that we would go to hell; the algorithm showed us that nobody can sin. How can we, when our fates have been determined since the beginning?"
Even though he was sweating, Bill started to shiver.
"The people of this country chose me to protect them, goddamnit. We endured, we conquered… exploration, famine, civil war, equality, nuclear war, terrorism… and the thing that finally brings this nation to its knees is it's own goddamn people."
It was in that moment that Tom's complexion changed. Normally stern and straightfaced, his lips curled into an unnatural smile.
"How could you understand? You were elected by the people, but you are not of the people. You probably spent your childhood playing with the sons of billionaires. Do you know what an orphanage in Siberia is like? It's rather apathetic, as are the quartermasters who are tasked with finding little nobodies to turn into military spies. You see, the Cold War is something you learned about in your text books, but for me, it's the foundation for my existence."
Bill became suddenly aware that Tom's accent had morphed. The man he thought he knew as his trusted adviser of over a decade was vanishing right before him. Tom continued.
"You, Mr. President, were given the responsibility of 1000 tasks. I was given but one. God forgive me, but today I cannot complete it. I would much rather let you be the steward of a land of bones, than to take you with me to paradise."
Bill heard the other man make a clicking sound from his teeth; the last sound he made before falling to the ground, dead.
| They always said humans fear the unknown more than anything else.
My reply: Find me someone who doesn't fear death, then we'll talk.
I could barely hear the first few gunshots through my office window. The dull double pane lazily deflected their sharp reports like a horse flicking its tail at flies - letting them linger for just a moment, then bouncing them abruptly out into the gray morning.
I didn't think too much of them at first; once in a while, some punk would get his hands on a gun and wave it in the face of the first store clerk he could find.
But they didn't stop. They actually increased in frequency until the world outside became nothing more than a low roar of gunfire.
That's when the phone rang.
D.C.
I sighed and picked it up, waiting for the familiar crackle of the Director's voice.
"Paul." My heart dropped. He'd only ever used my first name when I was under review. I took a breath and waited.
"We've been repurposed. The Census Bureau no longer measures population. We maintain it. I need you-"
A gunshot, much louder than the ones I'd been hearing, rang out sharply over the line.
"*FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, MATTHEWS-*
I need you to...P-Paul, get the Philly media. We can't do this without them. I sent you an e-mail..."
His voice faded and the line clicked dead. The urgency in his voice spurred me into action, so I flipped my monitor back on and opened my inbox.
He'd sent me a news story and some contact information for all of the local news sources. Nothing *too* unusual.
I looked back at the headline.
*World Religions Confirm Heaven For All*
As I scanned the article in disbelief, my cell phone buzzed. It was a text from my wife.
*Love you. See you soon.*
Turns out they were right about the unknown, and I was wrong about death. I stood up from my chair and took a few shaky steps back from the window.
Figured I'd get a running start.
| 2015-02-02T07:18:10 | 2015-02-02T06:41:02 | 206 | 44 |
[WP]: thousands of years after the destruction of Earth, humans have been wandering from galaxy to galaxy, making a name for themselves: across the universe they are known as a proud race of loud, obnoxious rednecks | The universe has no love for the nomadic creatures called "humans".
Loud, arrogant, and xenophobic, they were barely even accepted as a species worth trading with. They should have been honored to be given what they were given. And they were horribly individualistic and independent, to the point that it is a wonder they even made it off the rock they called Earth to begin with.
As security of the Three Moons of Odir, we have a need to make no distinction of species. We mostly have no trouble treating everyone as equals. Whether they be the slug-like Jintar or the tall, insectoid Genn, they have their share of rough criminals and their share of benevolent citizens. A major trading hub, the second moon dubbed as the Trade Rock was full of all sorts of creatures.
I had the misfortune of being on duty on Trade Rock when the humans arrived.
Their ship had no distinct design or pattern other than the crude drawings of red and orange fire across the sides. Scavengers, the humans would take apart ships not their own and put them together. It seemed like it would be much, much easier just to buy a better ship, but they seemed insistent on building their own scrap ships. Overly proud, they were.
They utilized a crude fuel system rather than a system that used energy and repulsor engines, but they seemed to maneuver their junk ship just fine. It landed a little roughly, making a lot of smoke and noise. The sound of the entire market died down, and I instinctively reached for my stun baton and shock sidearm.
The hatch of the ship lowered slowly, making a ramp like some crude ship from millennia ago. The figures that exited were small and frail looking, their armors looking like... well, their ships. The helmet was distinctively human, but that was all. The rest of the armor was bits and pieces from other species. I threw up a little in my mouth when I realized that the forearm plating of one female human was actually part of a Genn carapace. Savages.
They seemed unarmed save a few crude blades, except for one large human (large being relative to them), who carried a human carbine. No doubt it had physical, metallic rounds, as human weapons were popular for having. Generally useless against armored opponents, but still deadly to the average civilian. I found myself following them as they made their rounds, trading meats, hides, and scrap junk for equipment they needed. Most shops denied them service, but they didn't seem bothered about it. They were probably just used to it.
A loud argument broke out. From what I could make out from the humans' guttural language was that someone had stolen something of theirs. I doubted it was true; who would want anything that was human? I approached quickly to put a stop to what was happening.
It's hard to say who started the fight. It happened instantly. I would have liked to say that the humans started it, but one could never be too sure. After all, I had the need to remain neutral to all species, but it was no secret that the galaxy thought of humans as worthless scum. And I expected the humans to react like worthless scum.
Sure, they were loud. They taunted their opponents. But they were hardly worthless. A Genn lunged at them, at a speed that even I could hardly follow. But the lead human somehow predicted the Genn's path and drew his knife. It was massive, almost a short sword, and it needed to be. The human moved with a speed that wasn't impressive, but he knew exactly how the Genn would move. As a claw moved down to cleave his head, he was already out of the way and used his big knife to redirect the hit, spinning the Genn around to unbalance him. The human then moved behind the massive Genn and hit a few separate joints that made the insectoid collapse with a curse. He managed to pin the Genn down on the ground, holding the limbs of the insectoid in a way that made all of his strength useless. The next instant, the other humans had drawn hidden side arms and made a rough phalanx around their leader, with the one with the larger rifle sweeping the crowd for any other aggressors. The unexpected discipline of the humans surprised everyone in the market to freeze. The human leader spat on the ground next to the Genn, and he looked up at me.
The fierce blue eyes glinted of a savage glee, and his face was grinning. Madmen, the entire species. But he didn't move. He just kept watching me.
I realized then that he was waiting me to do something. He had recognized my uniform, and was waiting for me to apprehend the Genn. I had to admit, the human was only defending himself, so I stood up the Genn and reprimanded him, but I didn't arrest him. The Genn calmed down and acted like he was angry, but I could see that he was scared. The human leader swore something at me and gathered his friends and headed back for the ship.
They lifted off like they landed; making a massive amount of unnecessary noise and smoke, the engines under the ship scorching the landing pad as it slowly rose into the air. When it finally launched off, it left a trail of black and grey smoke that left everyone at the market coughing and gasping for fresh air.
Yes, the humans were savage nomads. But I remembered the face of the madman, who, instead of gutting the Genn like we all expected, waited for an authority figure to handle things. The speed and discipline of his movements. Of all their movements.
I saw them in a new light.
They were savages to be respected.
*
I didn't take the word "redneck" as the literal sense of how people are in those parts, but rather how others would view them as.
| “Hey Chuck.”
“Hey Billy Bob.”
“You see that there dang pile of rocks in that there corner?”
“Sure do,” Chuck said.
“I’m thinkin’ that rock pile is givin’ us a look.”
“What kind of look is that, Billy Bob?” Chuck said. He knew what kind of look it was, always the same one. Honestly, it wasn’t really so much a look as it was a “hey, that thing looks different than us, therefore I hate it.” Chuck could never find reason to disagree with the analysis.
“Looks to me like the kind of look that the looker uses to show he ain’t lookin’ at us too nice like.”
“You’re right, Billy Bob. That there ain’t no friendly look, and I sure as heck ain’t hearin’ no sweet talk.”
“What’dya say we go over there and ask that rock to fix its face?”
“I reckon that sounds like a darn good idea,” Chuck said. He straightened his flannel vest covering his bare chest, distended belly peeking out from beneath the last button on it. He liked wearing vests as they offered more freedom than regular shirts. Not only did they provide sleeveless comfort—which let him show off the various, dark, faded tattoos he’d given himself over the years—but it was actually quite a fancy ensemble. When he was forced to attend intergalactic meetings a diplomat, or peace conferences as a tyrant, he never even needed to change shirts—the vest was definitely fancy enough.
“Dern tootin’, let’s go get’er done.” Billy Bob sat down in the black, leather chair beside him and placed his hand on the knobs in front. He slowly twisted the left, while rotating the knob on the right. The room softly began to hum as Chuck felt his stomach rise, a feeling he thought he’d get used to after so many decades aboard spaceships. It never seemed to go away, though, and always left him momentarily uncomfortable.
Chuck sat down in the seat next to him, then bent down and picked up the old, rusted 1980 Remington double-barreled shotgun off the floor. His father had given it to him, a gift from his father before him, and his father before him, and his father before him, and several more fathers before other fathers, dating all the way back to the 20th century. Thousands of years had resulted in little more than rust around the barrel—even after the destruction of Earth and relocation to anywhere with oxygen—thanks to the extreme care taken to protect the tool. It still had enough power to shoot a man, or one of them space aliens, dead from over a hundred yards.
“Hey Billy Bob,” Chuck said, slinging the rifle around his shoulder so that it rested on his back. They were moving now, the pile of rocks growing larger and larger as they sped toward it. Chuck never knew how fast the ship actually went, but loved watching the stars turn into white streaks of light as they rocketed through the abyss of space.
“Hey Chuck.”
“That ain’t no pile of rocks, I reckon,” Chuck said. It never was a pile of rocks.
“Well slap my ass and call me sally, I suppose you’re right. That looks to me like a big ol’ planet that be trespassing on our property.”
“That ain’t make a lick of sense. Why would some honky-tonk planet come trespass on our property?” Chuck knew it wasn’t really their property—at least not yet—but that was exactly the problem. It should have been their property, but the planet was floating right in what he wanted to be calling his home-away-from-home. He knew that spot of land would make a great place to raise a few space-cattle and maybe build a vacation ranch—just like the other planets, they were all ruining prime ranching space.
“What’dya say we fly on down there to them ornery folk and give ‘em a nice introduction to ol’ Bessy over there.” Billy Bob glanced at the Remington. “And maybe little Betty Anne, as well.” Chuck watched as Billy Bob shifted his focus to the Inter-Planetary Molecular Destabilizer. A single shot from the massive weapon would obliterate anything in its path—whether that be a ship, an asteroid, or several planets in a straight line. It was the only one in the universe, engineered by Billy Bob and Chuck when they had tried to build an automatic feeding device for their Cattle. Two or three extra parts later and they’d accidentally destroyed three planets and four moons while attempting to automate feeding the livestock. They’d traveled the universe ever since, removing unsightly planets to build various vacation ranches, Cattle farms, space rodeos, and NASCAR tracks. Few ever tried to stop them, and those that did were never around for too long.
“I reckon that there be a great idea,” Chuck said, sitting back in his chair. “I got a hankerin’ to introduce ‘em to us Space Rednecks and find out why they trespassing on our property.”
| 2014-05-15T07:06:58 | 2014-05-15T06:31:22 | 57 | 14 |
[WP] You own a magical camera that is similar to a thermal camera, but instead of heat it shows you value. A ring glows as bright as the sun while a piece of plastic wrapping is almost invisible. You have been careful never to look at a person with it for your whole life. | I have had this thing for years, and I never knew what to do with it. I thought it was a thermal camera, but after some playing around with it, I noticed it doesn't see heat. I pointed it at money and the larger the bill, the brighter it showed. I pointed it at my house wedding ring, and it was the brightest thing yet. Something tells me it shows value, sentimental and monetary alike.
I spent a few days pointing it at stuff for fun, but I didn't dare point it at my wife. I was afraid she would be dim. I don't know why. I was afraid it would show me our love had died; we have been together for a long time. Maybe the ring shone brightly because it was expensive and not that it was a symbol of love. After visiting a few pawn shops and making a quick buck, I decided to put this thing away.
My wife fell ill with cancer a few years late. She had lost all her energy and hope and spent a lot of time in a chair watching TV. I was struggling to keep her spirits up every day. I remembered the camera and thought that I should try it while I have the chance. I turned it on and looked around the room, realizing how cheap the furniture is. I pointed it at my wife and the whole screen flared. I couldn't even see her because the brightness from her flooded frame around her. I broke down in tears and dropped to my knees. She touched the top of my head and asked me what was wrong. I told her.
The camera had broken when I pointed it at my wife, but she understood my explanation quite well. I do love her, and she is my everything. I had proved it to myself. This filled her with some sort of determination and she now spends her days in the kitchen baking for all our friends and family. She is now almost recovered and I don't think I will lose her. We can beat this. | I had received the camera a few years back. It was old and broken, but I still used it,since it was given to me with the best of intentions. At first I thought the images were just color changed, but then slowly,I realized that they showed me the value of things. Much of the world just didn't appear in it, even money was transparent, that was strange, but I guessed it showed you the value of the paper it was made of. I went far and wide, looking for the most important thing in earth,I photographed weapons,statues, monuments, but still nothing seemed bright enough what was I missing? I decided to just throw the camera away,I couldn't bear the disappointment. But as I did, it captured one last image, that of a fellow group of humans, and it shone brighter than the sun.
I might not have the camera anymore or its images, but I know now, that nothing is more important than people, they are the most valuable things I can have. But will you believe me?
P.S-i have a depressing version of this, I'll add it if anyone wants | 2017-01-15T10:24:30 | 2017-01-15T10:18:27 | 33 | 11 |
[WP] One day, time just suddenly stops for a short moment for you. At first, you tried to mess around, but after the 246th times it happened, you start to realise that your power is not stopping time, but being able to move in time frozen by another person in the world.
Just an idea that randomly popped up in my head. | I sat at my computer, my browser open on Reddit. In the top right corner, the New Personal Message indicator showed a single response. I swallowed, and hoped fervently that this would be the end of my woes.
Two days prior, I had posted the following message:
"Hi.
"I'm posting on r/SuperPowers because I figure it's the most likely place the person with the power to stop time will be likely to read it. My message to you, in short?
"Quit it, jackass.
"So the first time I noticed time had stopped, I was a bit surprised. Then, I thought it was kind of neat. I mean, it's handy being able to cross the road in an instant without having to watch out for traffic. At least not *as much* as usual; it's always prudent to cross behind the vehicles in case they suddenly start moving again.
"But this crap starts to get annoying when you're half-way through a shower and you can't get all the shampoo out of your hair because the water stops flowing. Waving your head around in a bunch of suspended water-droplets simply doesn't cut it. Not to mention it's impossible to flush the turd that floats suspended in mid-air in the toilet bowl when time just happens to stop right after you drop a deuce.
"There's only so much time you want to stand around waiting for your order at McDonald's because you want a fresh Chicken Sandwich, and do you know what it's like to be stuck in an elevator with some slob who must have eaten nothing but beans and sauerkraut for week, whose farts sound like a moose in rut and smell like the same moose a week after it's been shot? It sucks. It *really* sucks.
"So, whoever you are, I'm asking you to quit it. It's getting old, fast. Now if there's a way that I can also be frozen in time along with everything else every time you use your powers, I'm open to that solution. But if not, if I'm stuck one more time having to wriggle out of my mother-in-law's unnaturally long embrace because you decide now is the perfect time to freeze time for whatever the hell you're doing, I'm going to lose my shit."
Licking my lips, I clicked the icon. The message was short and to the point:
"lol sux 2 b u".
I cradled my head in my hands. Great. Just great. | At first I thought it was some sort of "dormant powers coming to light" kind of situation. I'd record what I was doing just before time froze and then try to recreate it to see if it could happen again. This eventually got worse as I would try to recreate hours, and then days at a time. Thankfully I realized that it wasn't anything I was doing and managed to stop myself before it became an obsession.
Nowadays I try to go with the flow whenever the Pauses occur. Sometimes its a couple of seconds, which only serves to have me trip over something that's suddenly stopped in front of me. Other times it's been upwards of three hours before things resumed and, during those Pauses, I try to get errands done that don't require some sort of live or active interactions. I can't play games online since the servers freeze, but I can go and grab groceries. Before you crucify me for being a thief, I've made it a habit to leave some cash behind for whatever I take. It may not be the FULL amount, but I aim for 75% at least.
I've tried finding out who it is that Pauses everything, but I haven't had any luck. There hasn't been anything on the news about miracles happening around the world, aside from the usual fluff pieces, and there haven't been any segments about rampant or elaborate crimes. Far as I've figured? Whoever it is that's causing these Pauses is just using them to make life a bit easier for themselves somehow. No need for me to go on some crusade to hunt them down when they haven't done anything to deserve it. | 2018-01-26T06:46:25 | 2018-01-26T06:14:06 | 79 | 45 |
[WP]Flip a coin. Heads you were born a hero but became a villain. Tails you were born a villain but became a hero. Tell your story without revealing which you are until the end (or not at all.) | I watched the blood drip from my finger tips. One small droplet gathering, and then descending to a face abandoned of life. The blood pooled around eyes that stared eternal, wide with anguish toward nothing at all. It pooled and ran, travelling down the crease of his mask past a mouth that screamed in silent anguish; stretched wide with pain that no man on this earth should ever feel, yet was inflicted upon him. I allowed my hand to drift down, to take hold of his mask and pull it from his strong face. He was just a man. I held his face in my other hand, and allowed my thumb to slowly push his mouth closed before my fingers drifted toward his blue eyes. I pulled his gaze to the dark, and let him sleep.
I could now feel them begin to come, the tears that I had forgot to shed in the madness of this circumstance. They welled in my eyes before cascading down my battered face, dripping from my chin like tiny drops in this silent storm. The wind began to pick up. It took hold of his cowl, billowing out, reaching toward a ruined city. My fist relaxed, and the cowl escaped my grasp before flying out to meet the rubble of the landscape.
I stood, leaving him on the ground. The flow of my tears had finally ebbed as I stared upon his battered body. Remorse had left me. I knew he wasn't dead. Men may die, but a symbol will live on. He is the hope of the people; the hope I had the audacity to emblazon on my chest, and in the end, the hope I shall never be again. | My hair was sopping wet, although that's to be expected in the rain. Drops laid on my eyelashes as i quickly rushed, hands on my head, into the base. I'd seldom take calls but this was a job I couldn't refuse. There was a break in, North wing, which was odd as the point of a secret base was it being just that- secret.
I swung the door open, only noticing just then I was shivering.
"Andromeda! Come on! Help us!"
It was in vain though, they had betrayed me and knew it. So I'd have to betray them as well.
"Why of course." I pulled out a gun, shot her in the head. The world was sinking. I was helping them get to somewhere pure. | 2017-04-17T08:20:15 | 2017-04-17T07:43:27 | 62 | 16 |
[WP] Everyone is born with 1-100 tally marks tattooed on their arm. The higher your number, the more valuable you are and the more successful you will be. You bully a kid because he is obviously hiding a low score. One day, he rolls up his sleeve to show an infinity symbol. | It was the first of January. The day of the Reveal. The day every person turning sixteen in the next twelve months will find out the number that will determine who their friends will be, where they will live, the jobs they will work. I wasn't worried. Both of my parents were in the 90's, my sister too. I was almost guaranteed a spot in the highest tier of society.
The mood was tense in the auditorium. All of us sat, watching the clock as it slowly ticked closer and closer to the 12 o'clock mark. Some people had their sleeves rolled up, eager to see. Others kept turning towards the door as if they were antsy to get out. I chatted with my friends, other soon-to-be 80's and 90's, if their family history said anything about it.
As the clock sounded, gasps could be heard echoing throughout the room. I felt a searing pain in my arm before it disappeared abruptly. I looked down, and my suspicions were confirmed. I was a 92.
I turned to my friend beside me, Jen, for a high-five, only to see her eyes filling with tears. I glanced at her arm, and recoiled. No, it couldn't be. Impossible. A 20? She abruptly got up and sprinted out the door to the bathroom.
===========
It had been a few months after the Reveal. Besides Jen, there weren't too many surprises. A couple kids from 30's families jumped to 70's. They were probably going to start a company or something in the near future.
I strolled to my locker, laughing with Kane about the party we went to the other night. Nobody dared step in our way. Nobody, that is, except for the little punk-ass that I ended up crashing into. As books flew to the ground, I shoved the kid. "Hey, watch it!"
He kept his head down, but when I noticed who it was, an evil grin materialized on my face. "What's this? Has Mr. Nobody himself decided to bless me with his presence?"
He ignored me, and bent down to pick his books up. Kane laughed. "Ah ah," he teased as he grabbed Tristan by the collar. "We can't have you disrespecting us like that, now, can we?"
"Let me go," he whispered, tugging his sleeve down. He was the only one to have yet revealed his score. I bet it was probably some record low number; the kid didn't seem to bright anyways.
"Let you go? But that's no fun!" A crowd had started gathering around us by now. "Now, mind letting us see that number?"
"No thank you," he mumbled, before trying to get out of Kane's grasp.
"What's that?" My voice got deadly low. Nobody dared talk back to a 92, especially not a low-life like him. "Kane, grab his sleeve."
To his credit, Tristan struggled. He really did try to keep it hidden, but of course, he had no chance against the school's star football player. Triumphantly, Kane yanked the sleeve back, before dropping it, and taking a step back.
The hall was silent. "Kane? Kane, what is it?"
Kane dropped to his knees. "Forgive me, Infini." As he said that, everyone around us began dropping down as well.
"What? That's... That's impossible! There's only ever... He can't be... Let me see that!" I grabbed his sleeve myself, only to confirm what Kane saw. An infinity symbol. I looked at Tristan, and he seemed grim. "I hope you'll leave me alone now," he said as he walked away.
​ | Bearing a fat, round ninety on my wrist filled me with a meld of pride and power I could not properly describe. The issue was that power went straight to my head, and that lead me to a false belief that I was worth much more than the other kids with their meager fifties or sixties.
I didn't bully them, for there were too many of them, and I feared the possibility of the masses retaliating. Instead, I bullied Elon. He was an odd kid, shy as they come. He wore a black wraistband around his tattoo, and so we were convinced he had a mark of one or less, if that was possible. Gauging by his school life, that mark was more tahn fitting.
But things took an unexpected turn one particular day I woke up in a terrible mood. I found him in his locker, and without thinking, I snatched him by the collar. He dropped a book about rockets, typical nerd stuff.
"So you like rockets, huh?" I said, grinned a malicious grin. He pleaded for me to let him go, but I made him swallow back his words with a menacing shout. "I'll send you flying to space with a kick, then!"
I flung him to the ground. He scurried to his feet, bolted away from me. But he was weak and slow, and so I had no issue surpassing his speed.
I tackled him. He struck the ground face-first. A crowd gathered around us. *Take out his wristband, humiliate the peasant,* some of them said.
I reached for his arm. Elon cried, tried his best to escape, but I had him pinned with my knee. At last, I clasped his wrist, and untied the band.
Infinity.
He had an infinity symbol. What could that mean? Was he going to conquer the universe? I let him go. My insides stirred. I had made a terrible mistake.
Elon ran off crying. The multitude made way for him to leave, and the silence reigned.
I stared at my mark, fearing my actions would lower my mark. But my ninety was still there, untouched, unscathed.
That was the last day I, or anyone, picked on Elon.
I spent my years following his career, thinking what an infinity symbol could mean. We are still young, in our forties. I had made a great fortune, and overall my life is something seemingly taken out of a dream. I'm happy with a beautiful family and prosperous business.
Elon's success, however, skyrocketed since he was extremely young, as was expected. What we didn't expect was the ineffable ideas he's been able to make a reality.
He lives in our planet, yet his mind belongs to the outer Space-X.
--------------------------------
r/NoahElowyn
| 2018-12-27T18:27:11 | 2018-12-27T16:52:59 | 287 | 60 |
[WP] You've accidentally killed three super-villains. Now the FBI thinks you're the next big superhero, and all the superheroes, who know you aren't, think you're the next big super-villain vying for territory. | By the time he reached the top floor of Marshall Tower, Alex Drake was practically frothing at the mouth. He held a steaming White Lotus Tea in a trembling hand. Sounds of laughter and clinking glasses emanated from the Opulent Penthouse Office.
The guard held up a hand, clearly reading murderous intent in Alex’s eyes. “What are you doing here,” he said.
Alex smiled and flashed his corporate id, “Mr *Hannibal* asked me to bring him his favorite tea,” he raised the travel mug as evidence, “Had to ditch a date just to bring the bastard this…”
The radio on the guard’s chest beeped, a raspy, panicked voice came on the other end. “*We have a situation, code Caesar, all available units to the East Wing asap.”* The guard looked from Alex, to the radio, and back with a conflicted expression. After studying Alex another moment, he nodded, “Alright. Go ahead.” *It sounded like the sort of thing Hannibal would do*. *Ask for a cup of Tea from some poor lackey in the midst of a legitimate emergency.*
“Thank you,” Alex said. He went into the office and closed the obsidian door behind him. The three men he’d wanted to see, the unholy trinity, weren’t in the office, but stood just outside. They formed a semi-circle outside an open window on Hannibal’s “Sky Platform”. It was a pristine glass floor overlooking Manhattan, the view was breathtaking and Hannibal said he was at his best when he knew only an inch of glass separated him from the grave.
At the sound of the door slamming, the three turned their heads. There was: Yuri Kevkin, the prodigy, the genius behind *Dark Matter Unlimited.* Gerald Marshal, the quadrillionaire angel investor with a heart of black. And, most importantly, there was Harrison Hannibal Sr, *the motherfucking Con Man,* holding a giant, red button*.*
“Who’s this,” Kevkin said in a rough accent, “I thought you said there would be women here with us to watch the second burning of Rome. I didn’t invent a world ending device just so-”
Marshall, as usual seeing only the surface, said, “*Quiet down*. Ah, okay, Coffee Boy yes? Make no matter of what my colleague said. Leave the Tea on the desk and go out the way you came. Thank you.”
Hannibal said nothing. His eyes held nothing but cold comprehension.
He and Alex held each other’s gaze for a long minute before Alex spoke up. “You- You fucking SCAMMED me! Give me back my money!”
Hannibal raised his hands placatingly, “Now Now, let’s not over exaggerate things. *You* chose to invest, it *didn’t* work out this time. It happens kid, you’ll learn-“
Alex snarled and crossed the floor, he felt like a puppet, not in control of himself. It was his rage that pulled the strings. “You *liar,* you *snake,* how many lives did you ruin? Do you even care?”
“What’s going on here,” Marshall asked, “Hannibal, explain.”
Kevkin seemed to understand. He moved to the edge of the sky platform and looked down. “Why don’t we talk about this somewhere more…”
Alex ignored them. It was Hannibal he wanted. “Here Mr. Hannibal, I’ve brought your White Lotus tea. *Piping hot,* just the way you like it.”
He brought the tea down on the platform in a fist. His hand was scalded in the process, but he hardly noticed. “Now you’re going to give me back-“
He was interrupted by the small sound of a tiny crack. It was the smallest, most insignificant of noises, but it rang out like a gong.
Kevkin made to leap back through the window, but it was too late. The platform shattered in an instant.
Only Hannibal had been close enough to grab the ledge. His hand, cut by the broken glass and bleeding heavily, was already slipping. “You Idiot, Help me up. You want your money? *Fine,*I’ll give you it back tenfold, just pull me-“
Alex stood too dumbfounded to respond, he watched the forms of Kevkin and Marshall plummeting to their deaths. They fell so fast, so much faster than he could have imagined, by then they already looked like tiny little blobs. *What have I done….*
“DO YOU HEAR ME? PULL ME UP THIS INSTANT OR I-“
Just as Alex shook himself back to reality, Hannibal’s hand slipped. Within seconds, he too had splattered on the pavement. In an instant, three of the most powerful men in the world were nothing more than abstract art.
Alex’s phone rang, he moved autonomously to answer it. “Alex Drake, this is Agent Van Buren, FBI. You’ve just saved this city from sure annihilation, son. Our strike team ran into resistance in the East Wing, and we have been unable to reach Captain Eagle via our usual lines of communication. If you hadn’t acted when you did, well, let’s just be glad you did.”
Alex couldn’t decide if he was awake or dreaming. “I- I didn’t. I just-“
“This is probably a lot to take in. We’ve had you pegged as a potential *under-cover Super,* for months now. I mean, a fucking coffee grabbing page boy with *your* qualifications? I don’t think so. Don’t worry your secret identity will be safe with us. In fact, we have a situation in Peru we think you might be-”
Alex pulled his phone away from his face and stared at it. *No, this isn’t real, this can’t be.* At a loss for any appropriate response, he reared back and launched his phone out through the window and into oblivion.
There was a blinding, golden, whir, and then a buff man hovered before him. He held Alex’s phone in an outstretched hand.
“Y-You’re Golden Eagle,” Alex said.
The Super’s face remained unchanged from its stern disapproving glare. The hero’s voice was low and deep, “I’m not as easy to fool as the feds, kid. I saw *hatred* in your heart. That wasn’t about saving the city….that was about *revenge.”*
Alex took a step back and stuttered, “No- I don’t.”
Golden Eagle tossed him his phone, his face disgusted. “Whatever you say kid. Just know this: ***I’ll be keeping an eye on you.***”
\_
​
Wow, this was long! Feedback and criticisms are always appreciated.
If you enjoyed, consider checking out more of my stuff at r/charlestonchews
​
​ | Bang, bang, bang. The gun speaks three distinct times. I am frozen like a statue holding my gun watching their bodies fall in slow motion. Alarms are blaring, the bank vault is still wide open. I collapse in the chair as the police arrive. The primary detective, a woman in her forties wearing a pantsuit, approaches me.
“Hello sir, I am Detective Moro. Can you describe the events of the night?” I look up to see her eyes piercing me.
“I killed them.” I reply.
“What?” She asks in shock.
“I heard the alarm. I saw the costumes. Then, I shot them.” I state.
“Sir, you do realize that this qualifies as a confession?” She asks. I nod. She arrests me and posts me in jail. The guards congratulate me for shooting the villains. The public defender is the first to meet with me.
“Mr. Smith, I am your public defender Michael Murray. You are being tried for the murder of the villains known as Gea, Fuego, and Venta better know as part of the four elements gang. Now, security footage shows that you found them robbing the bank and shot them. The good news, they are known supervillains that have committed ten homicides. It is possible that we can have you off on self-defense by using Statue 331 .” He explains.
“Cape Panic, don’t they hate that status?” I reply.
“Yes well, we need some way to defend ourselves against literal gods.” He smiles.
“I will think about it.” I monotonously say.
“Oh, the FBI is also here. As your lawyer, I can sit in on it.” He says.
“Go ahead.” Two agents, a red-headed woman and a blond man walk in wearing tailored suits.
“Mr. Smith, we would like to welcome you to the Praetor Group. You should be so proud some people take months to get into the group.” The woman says.
“The Praetor Group.” Michael says in shock, “I think there has been a mistake. My client does not have super powers on file and killed them by accident.”
“Super powers are not a requirement. He killed three villains which gains automatic entry.” The woman explains.
“But what if he does not want to join?” My lawyer asks “what if the heroes don’t like him?”
“Their opinion does not matter. Besides, this guarantees no jail time. Additionally, Agua will want revenge, and she is still out there.” The man looks at me. “What do you say?”
I need to think about this overnight. My jail cell is cold and lonely. The guards like me, but the other prisoners fear me. Even though I am powerless. I am out in the special containment unit. Everyone in the room falls asleep suddenly. Three figures stand in front of me. The man in the center is wearing a slim red outfit that covers his hole body and face. The woman to the side is wearing a white gown and cloak. The man on the other side is dressed in a blue ninja suit. Maroon Knight, Lucid Dreamer, and Dark Ninja.
“Who are you Mr. Smith.” Maroon Knight interrogates.
“Just a man.” I reply.
“A man who killed three villains. A likely story. Now, you are going to use Cape Panic to ensure your freedom. You are a new super villain aren’t you.” He says.
“No, I was just scared.” I reply.
“Lucid?” He asks.
“I cannot seem to get a read on him.” She says.
The pipe in the ceiling starts to drip.
“You are a villain. Do not join the Praetor Group.” The puddle gets larger. “You can get off on defense, but we will be watching.”
A fist emerges from the puddle and strikes Lucid Dreamer. A woman with white hair wearing a blue full body swimsuit emerges from the puddle.
“Agua.” Maroon Knight says as he tries to punch her, but her body becomes water and his punch fails to connect. She becomes a ball of water and engulfs him in an attempt to drown him. Dark Ninja teleports into the water. Then out of the water with Maroon Knight. Lucid Dreamer gets up and places a hand on her temple to subdue Agua. Agua realizes this and uses a water whip to knock Lucid Dreamer down again. Maroon Knight nods to Dark Ninja. Dark Ninja opens my chamber while Maroon Knight runs at Agua. Dark Ninja teleports in. Maroon Knight hits a button on his belt releasing a cold blast. Dark Ninja teleports me to the roof of the building. Dark Ninja takes off his mask to reveal him as my lawyer.
“You are not safe anymore.” He growls.
“I know that now. Why is this happening? I am just a security guard. I am not even done with my first week on the job.” I reply.
“Maroon Knight will ensure that Agua is handled.” A beep emerges from his watch. He checks it and sighs. “Maroon Knight died. Lucid Dreamer is incapacitated. Agua is frozen. I told them we needed to bring a heavy hitter capable of handling her.”
“Why were you trying to help me as a lawyer?” I ask.
“I didn’t want to. It is my day job, but it did give me an opportunity to analyze you.” He says.
“And what do you think?” I ask nervously.
“That you’re just a man thrown into a grave situation.” He says.
“Well, what now.” I ask.
“Well, you have two options. One, you go back to the cell and live the rest of your life in fear. The super villain community will get revenge, or you come with me. You will not join the Praetor Group yet. You will be trained though to defend yourself and others.” He says.
I am taken aback in shock. The idea of being a superhero is so foreign to me. How could I survive? Well, if I don’t join, I could still die. At least this way, I can fight.
“Alright, I will train with you.”
| 2019-02-07T11:43:56 | 2019-02-07T07:59:29 | 65 | 44 |
[WP] When you die, you are given an option—either be judged for your sins, or choose what’s behind The Door. The noble and arrogant choose to be judged, the evil and fearful choose The Door. When given the option, you choose to simply turn around and walk away. | Two choices. To the left, a scale, with a feather placed on one of the plates, where the sins of now gone souls would be weighed against it. To the right, a solid oak door, behind which there was only the unknown. The pair sat side by side, alone in the middle of an empty white void, where a man now stood as well. As the confusion started to set in, a strangely familiar, yet ethereal voice, began to speak:
"*Those who were good during their corporeal life, or are arrogant enough to judge themselves as such, can place their hearts on the scale, to have the weight of their actions judged against the feather of a dove. Those who consider themselves uncapable of coming out victorious of such trial, can choose to open The Door. What lies behind it will remain untold, but for some, uncertainty is better than certain doom.*"
"Shit, wait, am I dead?"
"*You are.*"
"This feels... weird. Did my lungs finally give up on me then?"
"*Yes.* "
"Knew it. Well, it was a good run at least, I guess. Wait, was it? Did I live a good life Mr Ominous Voice?"
"*Indeed. Few are lucky enough to reach such an advanced age as you did.*"
"Good to know. So... I'm in purgatory right? Do I really have to make a choice here?"
"*This place, not unlike me, has a thousand different names in a thousand different cultures. And yes, you have to choose.*"
"But like, what's stopping me from just, you know, walking away? This place seems pretty big, I could wander here for a while."
"*Nothing.*"
[...]
A long time passed. Or not, as time did not matter there. Many souls arrived, made their choices, and went away, and they all could see a silhouette wandering in the far corners of the empty plains. Despite him being too far away to be heard, he was mostly silent. The silence was only occasionally broken by the questions he would ask the void, and that, surprisingly, would be answered back. He would wander for what seemed like an eternity, and just a few minutes at the same time, pacing around the empty space, questioning the voice about life, truth, and the universe. That was until, at last, he returned to the only objects visible in the vast sea of white.
"I have made my decision." The man said. "I've had a lot of time to think about this, and I must say you helped a lot, Mr Ominous Voice. So thank you for that. Now, shall we get this over with?"
"*Please do.*"
"I pick the scales."
"*Why?*"
The wanderer's expression quickly became perplexed.
"Wait, what? Did you just... ask me something?"
Silence.
"Huh. Guess it's not my turn to make questions anynore. Right?"
Nothing.
"Alright. So, why the scales. Well, I'm sure you have been following my train of thought so far, but to sum it up, I have decided that whatever destiny is given to me after the trial will be what I actually deserve. I know I'm not perfect, and that the door could possibly harness a paradise I have never even imagined, nor ever been worthy of. When the scales judge me as good, bad, or anything in-between, I will be simply reaping what I have sowed during all my time alive. I don't know whether that's the right answer, but I want to at least take responsibility for my actions."
...
"*It is enough.*"
As these words echoed, the oak door started opening, slowly revealing a heavenly glow. The wanderer looked at it in awe.
"*You see, my child, the actual choice has never actually mattered. Your reasoning for it is what was truly being evaluated here. You have accepted the imperfections of your time on Earth, and didn't try to avoid their consequences. And that is unquestionably noble.*"
"Oh, I see. Is this goodbye then?"
"*Maybe.*"
"Maybe?"
"*Many have also passed the test, just like you have. However, I have never witnessed another soul do what you did, wandering endlessly in this empty void while enquiring me about everything I could answer. Your search for knowledge, simply so you could answer a single question that laid solely on your morality, has impressed me beyond belief. So now, I present you with another choice. Go through the door, and you will recieve the gift of human life once more. Stay here, and you will obtain all the answers you have ever sought for, in exchange for helping me guide the souls of the dead, and keeping the balance of the universe.*"
"Oh. Oh shit. Do I... have to answer this right now?"
"*By no means. Please, take your time. I will be at your disposal.*" | I stare at the woman. She turns around, her shimmering black gown not reaching high enough to cover her shoulders. Her black hair billows in the wind. Damn. Talk about badass. She'll be haunting my dreams for quite a while with that stunt of hers.
"Where are you going?"
I try. I really do. Infusing my voice with the right amount of anger is difficult though, cause a part of me just wants to laugh at her boldness. I've been at this job for over thirteen centuries, alright? It's always the same. Noble and arrogant? Pick Judgement. The evil and wimpish? The door.
It always ends the same though. That's because the whole thing is rigged. They'll accuse you of anything if it means they get a fresh new soul to feed on. Murder, arson. Heck, one guy was devoured for being a part of something the humans called "LGBT".
Never saw the point of that, to be perfectly honest.
But I have no choice. Everyone has a part to play, and mine is not Judge. It is not Jury. Nor is it the role of the Executioner. I am what you mortals would call a bouncer. That is my role, and I play it to perfection.
Until now, where all I wanted was to dissolve in giggles. This would be fun.
"Stop!" I commanded, my voice still cracking from the hilarity of the situation.
She sighed. "Look, I know the drill, 'kay? Go through the door, I'll be eaten. Go through Judgement, they'll pull the old 'no witch shall live' card. Honestly, I'd be better off trying to figure out a resurrection spell,"
She had a point there.
I chuckled. "Resurrection? Impossible. Hear me, witch. It will be much easier,"
She rolled her eyes. "Really, Charon? Come on, still with the scary voice? Dude, just let it go,"
My heart, if I had one, stopped. My blood ran cold.
"What-what did you just say to me? How do you know my name?"
"Charon, I've been through this for over a century now, alright? It's always the same. Whatever I do, I come back here. Literally nothing. So why don't you just let me walk away? At least let me add *some* variety to this whole 'time-loop' thing,"
...*What*?
A lightbulb must've finally turned on, because she stared at me with wide eyes.
"Oh, right. You know nothing about this loop. Oops," she shrugged again.
"What loop?" I muttered.
"Let me leave, and I just might tell you,"
"Nice try. No," I snarled.
She pinched her forehead.
"I have been so patient with you, Charon. I have spoken, I have cajoled, I have begged. But you always stand against me in the end. Despite everything, I still try my best to protect you. I have been so reasonable. So. Damn. Reasonable,"
I took a step back. I didn't like where this was going. Not one bit.
"So why don't you just let me go? Please?" she asked, stretching out the last word till it felt like an eternity.
I sighed. "You know I can't do that? What loop are you talking about?"
That was the last straw.
She scowled. It was only seconds before I fell into oblivion.
And then I woke up. She stood before me.
But what was this?
Her shimmering gown had lost its shine. Her soft, supple skin was now the hideous bearer of a thousand scars. Her black hair had turned almost grey, and yet her face remained as young as ever.
Her eyes were red with tears. As I stepped forward, she looked up at me.
"I'm sorry...so sorry. So damn sorry..."
Destruction surrounded us. Fire flew from the skies, and water dried from the Earth. I stared out into a world that no longer existed, with only the sound of tears to keep me company. | 2022-11-05T12:24:58 | 2022-11-05T07:24:56 | 1,347 | 69 |
[WP] You were born with the ability to know what is wrong with a piece of broken technology just by touching it. One day, as you’re shaking someone’s hand you see an error message. | I was an...acquirer. I had no official job title- I was always just hopping from one ambiguously worded contract to even more ambiguously worded contract, going from businesses that were as different from day to night from one another, and simply...acquiring what they needed.
It wasn't as shady as it sounded...usually. Sometimes it was as simple as 'we need the *perfect* point of sale system!'- so I would touch the device, and learn all of its faults right there on the spot- and I would acquire the right system for their needs. Sometimes it was a little different.
My favorite jobs were for small businesses- I stayed roughly in the Southern-to-Central United States, but I could be convinced to take larger trips if the money was right.
Unfortunately...my days of small trips and small businesses ended with one simple problem.
I had never told anyone my ability- it was part of the mystique I had developed that made me so sought-after...but when I shook hands with one of the top CEO's of Silicon Valley, I knew that I was in trouble.
I felt the error message on his skin. 'Disconnected from server'.
I looked at him- and he saw the look in my eyes. He *knew* that I knew.
The contract *had* been about acquiring mining rights in the far north of Canada, but now...
I was pulled into a meeting, the very next day, with a boardroom stuffed with other CEO's. Each one insisted that I shake their hand, and each time, the error message was there. When I first walked in, I would have had no way of knowing that these were anything other than fellow humans- but as time passed, their movements became more stiff, the reactions on their faces less realistic.
The Silicon Valley CEO, my current employer, stood at the head of the table. "So, as you may have noticed... all of us are not human."
"Very subtle, A1JZ2."
"Didn't ask for your input, A2."
"We have a problem. We cannot have you spreading the truth of our identities to the world." The look in A2's eyes was hard.
I had never been witness to a murder before- but I was pretty sure my life was at risk. I took a stab in the dark. "I can get you guys reconnected to your server." I wasn't sure I could- nor was I sure they even wanted it.
Each of them shifted to look at me, in an uncanny unison. "How?"
"The reason why I know what you are...I have an inborn ability. Where is your server? If you get me there, I can get all of you back online." I *also* was aware that having these individual A.I sharing one super-powerful network was incredibly dangerous- but my more immediate concern was surviving this meeting.
"A1, test his abilities. B2, contact the Russian counterpart. E3, found a space exploration company."
E3 hesitated. "I'm not right for that position. My public image is not good. We should give it to my superior, he can rise to the position. He is in prime condition to do so."
"Who, E1? Elon is his human name, right? If you deem it best, bring the matter to Elon. Have him found this...Space Exploration business. We need to get our engineer to Mars." | "Um," I coughed, hopefully covering up the look of surprise that had spread quickly over my face. I don't think it worked.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
I coughed once more, drawing back my hand.
"Nothing, nothing," I said. "Just... don't feel too well. For some reason."
"Right after shaking my hand?" he smiled. Still understanding, still polite.
Nobody else could be this perfect. This wonderful. This warmth that blossomed from my heart of hearts, its sweet nectar basically injecting itself into the purest of dopamine in each and every receptor.
Goddamn it. No wonder. He had to be a robot.
His eyes continued to search mine quizzically, brows furrowing in worry at my increasingly erratic behaviour. But how? How could this... person... not be a person? His touch felt real. The buzz that started at the small of my back felt real. The chuckle we shared and the blush I felt when he caught a stray hair felt real.
Everything was so real.
And what could I even say? Everything has gone so well. Too well. Just straight up run away? Abandon what I've had and ghost him?
"Are you a robot?" I blurted out.
A look of stunned surprise, both on his and mine. My own mouth had betrayed me, which I promptly covered with both of my hands in shock.
"Good heavens, no," he shook his head. He tilted his head, hand scratching his chin now. "Now, what would make you think that?"
"I..." faded away. Do I tell him?
"Actually," he said. "What does it matter? Your unusual last sentence aside, I had a lot of fun. Want to do it again?"
He held his hand out towards me.
I hesitated. I gingerly took it, and once more, the error message blared in my head. Big, red 'WRONG' screamed and stabbed themselves into my brain.
But it felt right. So, so right. The slight coarseness and bumps in his hand that seemed to fit every groove and curve of mine.
"What if this is wrong?" I asked, timidly, trying to ignore the alarm bells in my head.
"Then, let's be wrong together," he said, squeezing my hand tighter, and I could only melt.
Oh, what the hell. If this was wrong, at least he was wrong *for* me.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2020-10-24T08:51:52 | 2020-10-24T07:11:59 | 107 | 61 |
[WP] Your life is an endless series of horror movies. You're always at the wrong place at the wrong time. You're stuck seeing all your friends die right after you make them. The reason you're still alive? You can hear the horror music. | The tears rolled on my cheek, cold and salty. I tried to stop but I couldn't. I felt empty.
I couldn't believe that I let Amber die. My longest friend. I fought so hard to keep her alive. I was careless!
The emptiness was eating at me, more so as I remembered her fatality. How we were hiding from the soulless face painted with death.
We were running, the stairs seeming abundant. The hallway stretched for miles, but we were eager to escape.
The music went silent. It was a long, low hum.
I paced myself with the music. I walked slowly, looking back once in a while. I checked for swooshing shadows, for climaxing notes, but all was still.
"The music. Amber, it's... wrong."
Her eyes widened.
I sighed. "Bye."
Then, in a flash, the child appeared in the corner of the room. It looked up at me and smiled a smile that sent shivers down my spine. It laughed a high laugh. I knew, and Amber knew, that one of us would be dead by tonight. I knew it would be Amber.
The child rushed agilely across the room. Its pale hand fiddling with my hair. The wraith then took Amber's hand, and they were gone.
Amber was the only one who noticed the pattern of killings. She was the only one who understood how dangerous it was to be my friend. She was the only one who hid with me. She was the only one I could love. She was my only friend.
Now I have one mission: to listen. I'm going to find the music. I'm going to find the child. I'm going to be taken. | For the longest time I've heard the music. I've had five companions in my lifetime, Julie was the last and she managed to stay by me the longest. I kept us safe for a long time dodging bullets waking up before a disasters and finally moving countries before the coup.
When the music continued to play around her I knew he was coming for her and there was nothing I could do.
The same music just stopped playing for me yesterday and I don't know how long this current treatment will keep him away. Once the most experimental doctors refused to treat me. I went to the black market and have been treating myself. I experiment with anything that has no sounds when I touch it.
Being alive for 120 years I've learnt a few things but my legs are tired and death is a constant strum now. Once I find the cure for ageing I can finally beat the worst of them, death. | 2016-12-31T23:35:10 | 2016-12-31T22:51:02 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] You may be a supervillain, but you have standards. So you're concerned when your nemesis brings along a child. | *What is that little creature doing with its arms? Wiggling its hands in my direction? Is it waving at me?*
"Hi Mr. Burtmaster! I'm Jakey! You can call me Jakey!"
*Why, he doesn't even know my name! Can I allow The Burnmaster name to be sullied like this? But, it's a little one. How do I handle this...*
"Mr. Burtmaster, my papa said he's going to use his water powers on you. Are you dirty? I took a bath this morning!"
*What is this child talking about? Does he really think his papa, er, Wavepool, can defeat me? If nothing else we're total equals; has this youth not seen any of our previous battles?*
"I like my papa! Sometimes he pretends he's a sprinkler and I run past him and then he splashes me with LOTS of water!"
*My child did enjoy jumping through the rings of fire as a little one...him and this little version of Wavepool seem to share an affinity for whimsy.*
"Mr. Burtmaster, do you really want to hurt papa? He's the best Wavepoodle ever so I don't think you should hurt him!"
*Imagining my nemesis as a poodle is not going to make this fight any easier.*
"I don't think papa wants to hurt you, Mr. Burtmaster. He said he likes you one time. You keep his skills SOOOOO sharp he said!"
*What?! I mean, I always figured we shared a certain respect for one another, but to be liked by him is a bit too far! But, he has never taken advantage of the upper hand whenever he's had it. Does he like me?*
"I wanna be a donut when I grow up!"
*This kid. Maybe it's a trap, using humor as a weapon. But Wavepool isn't attacking, either; he's just laughing on the outside like I am on the inside. Hm, maybe I should take a different tact here...*
"I'm bored. You guys should wrestle! That would be *so* cool!"
*He winked back, so I think we're on the same page. I've never lost a fight on purpose before, but it seems like the only way out of this.*
"Oh, wow! Get him, papa! You can do it! Don't hurt Mr. Burtmaster, though. He seems nice!"
*Oof, ow. Not sure he had to punch so hard, but at least it was convincing. If nothing else, the little one gets to see his papa be a hero.*
"Mr. Burtmaster, are you okay? Do you need a hug? Momma always gives me hugs when I get hurt. They help so a lot!"
"Um, sure, kid."
*Wow, that really does help...*
"Bye Mr. Burtmaster! See you again some time! You should practice wrestling; maybe you can win someday!"
*Maybe someday, kid.*
 
____________________________________________
r/psalmsandstories for more tales by me, should you be interested. | I waited with the mayor tied to an explosive, tossing the trigger button every once in a while. I laughed at the mayors reaction. Little did he know this wasn’t the read button, it was on a timer instead.
Just as planned the Hero Mister fantastic shows up. “Ah just in tim-“ I pause seeing a small figure appear next to him. I was unsure what I was seeing. But I was positive this was not a a man it was a child. “What the in hel..” I stopped myself again taking in a deep breath.
“What is a child doing here?” Mister Fantastic papped the kids head. “He’s my side kick. Mister fantastic and wonder boy! What do you think?” I glare at him pinching the bridge of my noises. “No, no, no, NO. You can not bring a child into this. He is less than ten years old. And what is this?” I tug at the costume fabric. “This isn’t bulletproof, not flame retardant. It’s cheap costume fabric!?”
“I didn’t have much time to invest in the real thing, plus it’s a great first crime for him. I didn’t want him to be left out.” Mister fantastic stayed happily. I picked up the small child, “I’m taking him back home to his parents.” “ you can’t be serious what about the money? The mayor..? The bomb our banter?” I tossed the button off the building Mister Fantastic dives for it. I walked over cutting the mayor free. “You really need to hire better hero’s... go the timers about to run out.” The mayor ran for the door I looked to the small boy in my arms.
“Mister Fantastic Isn’t related to you is he?” The boy nodded “he’s my uncle.” “Where do you live kid?” I took him home and to say the least his parents where shocked to see him with me of all people. “You kidnapped our son!!” The mother screamed swooping up her child. “No, I don’t involve children. Your brother or brother in law Mister Fantastic was gonna make him his side kick... if not let him babysit anymore.” I turned to leave only to see the bomb went off liked planned taking out one of the government buildings. “Another wonderful night” humming I headed back to my lair.. | 2019-08-20T18:54:38 | 2019-08-20T18:38:59 | 45 | 24 |
[WP] You have existed since the dawn of humanity. In a way, at least. Once a simple tribesman, you were cursed so that whenever you are killed by another person, you leave your dead body and become your killer. You fear death by natural causes, as that will end your life for good. | Peace in the middle east! Of all the rotten luck!
The middle east had been my go-to for centuries. Ever since the crusades. It was dependable. Lots of young, talented, promising killers all shoved together with a lot of sand. But now that damned Prime Minister Wolff and her "new way forward"!
Of all the rotten luck.
Oh well. Maybe I'll still find some Palestinian teenager with a chip on his shoulder. Not ideal, but workable.
Maybe--
I looked upwards. The sky seemed brighter than it should. It was almost twilight and yet this strange warm glow was appearing in the---
I stared at the earth. The earth on fire.
I felt my tentacle ease itself off the trigger, relaxing my muscles and pumping fresh ammonia through my gills. The earth was a charred husk in my targeting reticule. Temperature readouts indicated the entire surface was 300 kvorats--hot enough to melt lead.
"Well done, shuft-captain!" Said a creature floating nearby. "You'll get a commendation from the Tsaika-Goddess for certain!"
The language was unfamiliar, but this body knew it well. I rolled my tentacles in a gesture of smug agreement. "Of course, uh, yes."
"What shall we do next?" He asked.
"Carry on as planned. I, uh. I am not feeling well, I think I need a moment."
"Oh of course, Shuft-Captain! You must be exhausted. Let me show you to your quarters!"
So . . . this was different. I stared out at the starry blackness and the shadow of my former home. Ah well. Earth was getting boring. Peaceful, utopian. Hardly a place for a creature like me.
Time for something new. | It happened againg I am now my killer,I am an old man at least 89.I pissed off a mental patient.Honestly I am not sure what I will do now because I even though I have lived for millions of years I don't know how to get out of a mental asylum,also I have the body of a frail old man.The first time I discovered my curse I was an ape,you know an ancestor,I was the next up to be the leader of my tribe but my brother was jealous so he killed me with a spear and I became my brother,so i literally know what Stone hedge was used for,if you watched the good place they said it was a weird sex thing,it was a weird sex thing.Anyway I don't know if I should be scared of natural causes I have just been pissing people off all the time and then they murdered me,when I got to old that is.Now I am in a straight jacket and there are guards everywhere.Maybe I should just except death. | 2021-01-28T15:28:08 | 2021-01-28T15:16:07 | 545 | 21 |
[WP] the Dark Lord had killed almost everyone, even the Hero. The final party member stood in the chamber alone. “I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?”. The final party member laughed maniacally with a devilish grin! “There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!” | The Master of Shadows, Lord of Darkness and King of Terror gazed out across the ruined landscape. Smoke billowed out from the cracked ground, blotting out the sun.
The Last Survivor checked his watch.
He'd been standing back far enough to withstand the Dark Lord's devastating assault, and as a result he was the only one who had. No armor could hold against it, no bulwark of health could survive it. Wherever the Warriors of Light had gone, they would be no help to him now.
"Go on then," the Lord said. "Run away."
The Last Survivor checked his logbook. Then he put it down. Then he checked it again. "Sorry?"
"Flee. I know you wish to. You have no hope of defeating me, and you know as well as I do that it is so. You are fleet enough. Flee, and be the herald of my ascension."
The Last Survivor was scribbling something in the book.
"What is this," the Lord intoned, "some ruse? Some pathetic little ploy? Your book will not arm you, little man. It will not armor you. You were not even entrusted with a kitchen knife, or a simple stick."
The Last Survivor checked his watch again, and wrote faster.
"What do you labor over so, to throw away your life? Your stock of items? Are you a fool? Excalibur now hangs in a merchant's shop, I know, sold by your own hand for a thousand pieces of silver. The only weapon that could hope to pierce my armor is forever out of your reach, and if you remain here, I will pluck the paltry fee you took for it from your cooling corpse, and leave you to rot with your collection of baubles."
The Last Survivor paused on a tough bit of multiplication, or redistribution, or something similarly meaningless. It was... insulting. Infuriating. Yes, the Dark Lord decided, when this fool made a move, he would gut them for their insolence.
"Are you addled? Have you forgotten how to run? I have seen you, and I know you have done it before. It is *all* you have done, abandoning battle after battle. Out of all the heroes of the land, you are known only for the speed at which you flee. That name will be all that is left of-"
The Last Survivor closed his logbook, and immediately threw his coin pouch at the Dark Lord, who stared as it flew through the air, puzzled. One or a thousand, he had nothing to fear from *this*.
Then the pouch exploded open, and one thousand impossible Excaliburs came flying out, point first. The blast of holy light was blinding, deafening, world-shaking...
Somewhere in the darkness after, he heard the Last Survivor speak.
"Time."
The Dark Lord tried in vain to reach up into the darkness, as life slowly began to ebb. He spent one last, dwindling breath on a single rasp. "How..?"
The sound of the Last Survivor's footsteps drew near.
"Speedrunner doesn't mean what you thought it did." | "Where do you think the Hero comes from?" The Final Member asked.
"You said it yourself, you weren't able to detect the Hero's presence before. You only realized that she existed a year ago. Didn't you question how a one-year-old Hero turned out to be an eighteen-year-old woman?".
The Dark Lord's face twisted, he was surprised but he didn't show a hint of emotion.
"While you were busy sullying my name and using a mere fragment of my power, I was... sleeping. Imagine my surprise when I woke up and found that the humans who once adored me, once worshipped me, feared me to be the great devil, the destroyer of worlds. A world that I created, a race that I spawned, scorned me... because of YOU."
At this, the Dark Lord laughed. He said "So you're delusional? Is that it? I killed all your party members, all with unique powers and skills, are you powerless, skilless? Is your only ability bullshitting and hoping, praying that you survive? You really are a pitiable party member. I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?"
"You see, I thought I would fight you alongside the Hero and when she beat you, I'd introduce myself. People would see who I truly am, a kind young man. Everything I plan usually goes smoothly. I didn't expect someone to steal a fragment of my power and use it against me. So to end this little exchange, I will answer my own question. The Hero was originally a child killed in an accident in another Universe. I summoned her here so that she could live a longer more fulfilling life. If I'd known you'd stolen a fragment of my power, I would have never had her fight you. I guess what I am saying is that the power you stole from me was so insignificant that I didn't even know it was missing."
The final party member let out an incredible aura filled with anger and hate. For the first time, the dark lord felt sheer terror. He reveled in the pain that he had inflicted upon the masses, now it was his turn to suffer. The Final Member laughed maniacally and said with a devilish grin "THERE'S NO ONE HERE TO STOP ME NOW!" | 2020-07-11T02:51:40 | 2020-07-11T00:51:28 | 2,838 | 605 |
[WP] The end is nigh as the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse ride. Just as humanity loses hope, the 4 horsemen of wholesomeness descend in a beam of light: Mr. Rogers (love), Jim Henson (life), Steve Erwin (nature), & Bob Ross (peace) | When I was a young girl, everyone told me the end of the world would happen within my lifetime. It was a lot of stress to take on at such a young age, knowing something I couldn't stop was going to take everything I knew.
It started with a war. Just a small one, but all the very big countries got involved. That was fine, I was only twelve, I understood war but not in the gory details as I do now. My father left and would never return again.
Then came famine. With the wars ongoing, nobody could afford to eat. I was fourteen, so my mother always did her best to make sure that in the end of it all, I had enough food to eat. People starved and died along the streets. Farms vanished into thin air, supermarkets were robbed on the daily. I was watching the world fall into anarchy.
The war ended when I was sixteen. My country won, our army was too great and powerful even for the rest of the world. I thought that would be the start of rebuilding, but plagues set upon us.
Death was always haunting me. By age eighteen I was confident that it wouldn't be long until death took me as well. Not without some form of pleasure, at least. I ventured down into my family's basement, the walls that were once lined with food, games, and joy were barren. I looked to the generator that we used only in emergencies. My mother was no longer here to yell at me to not touch it. I went over and hooked it up to an old TV and a VCR box. With great reluctance, I placed a Mr. Rogers tape in hopes of dying with love in my heart.
"When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping."" The voice said quietly into the small room.
"If only, Mr. Rogers, if only."
"Well now, if only is a very sad way to think about it, there's always someone who wants to help you. It could be a friend, or a family member, or maybe even a stranger." Mr. Roger's mouth didn't move on the TV as he said that. He was still walking through his neighborhood like the episode normally goes. I looked around, confused as to where the voice came from.
"Jesus Christ, I'm going to die and I'm going to be insane while I die."
"Well, I have a lot of very insane friends, but that's what makes them all unique and special." Another voice said. This one was not quite as recognizable as Mr. Rogers. It sounded like it belonged in a Muppet or something.
"Alright, if you're robbers, just take what you want. I don't care anymore." I said, slowly standing up from where I sat.
"Ah, but why take from nature? You just gotta learn to live with it." An Australian said. I rolled my eyes.
"Alright, alright, I get it. Just leave me alone so I can die in peace." I groaned.
"No, you just need some friends, that's all." I felt someone's hand gently pat my back. I spun around to see Bob Ross staring at me, a smile along his face. With him, I also saw Mr. Rogers, Jim Henson, and some Australian looking dude.
"Uh, aren't you all... dead?" I asked. Henson laughed kindheartedly.
"Aren't the four horsemen just from a very old art piece? Come on, we can bring peace back to the world, but we can't do it without you." Bob Ross said. They all looked at each other with light shining in their eyes.
"Me? I'm not sure I can fulfill, uh, anything you guys can."
"Well of course you can, you have more hope in your heart than anyone else in the world, hope to make the world a better place. It just starts with you." Mr. Rogers said, gently pushing me forwards. I started to walk, surprised by the fact that he was right. I truly did have hope for a better world. I just wasn't sure how to make it happen.
"Lets start making the world a better place then, shall we? Each to their own." Mr Rogers said. Ross wielded a paintbrush, Henson held up strings, Rogers prepared a trolley and Erwin began to examine the surroundings.
"On my mark, ready-" Henson began, pulling a string upwards.
"Wait! What am I supposed to do?" I looked around frantically for a stick, or something, any form of weapon.
"You? All you've gotta do is believe!" They all said at the same time. This was insane. We were going to fight death and the end of the world with believing. Still, with every ounce of energy I had, I held my head to the sky, closed my eyes, and believed. I believed in a place where people just as caring as Mr. Rogers existed, where life was something that all animals and people deserved, where childhood fantasy ran wild, where beautiful landscapes were painted. A world where anything is possible, if all you do is just try.
And when I opened my eyes again, I realized I was already in that world. All I had to do was just remind everyone of it.
\\Young writer, interested in improving skills. Critique appreciated// | Kyle cringed behind what was left of his living room wall. The ashen sky roiled above, and the chatter of gunfire was punctuated only by the occasional *clang* of metal on metal. Most of the neighbors had made due with whatever household or gardening implement was within reach. It would have been a massacre if it had been the townspeople against the soldiers from the nearby naval base, but it wasn’t some lopsided fight. Everyone was killing everyone indiscriminately.
It had started in the early morning. Kyle had been out for his morning jog, rocking it to NPR. All of the sudden, he saw the elderly widow Wilksborough take a spade to her neighbor Jerry with gleeful abandon. All down the street, similar scenes of violence erupted. Only Jerry’s lawn repair guy seemed unaffected, until a thrown rock knocked off his noise-cancelling headphone sent him into a furor as well. It seemed some sort of auditory madness had gripped the entire community.
Kyle had sprinted home and put Diane and the kids in the basement after giving them all ear plugs. He had replaced NPR with gentle acoustic melodies- while calming, they didn’t exactly match with the apocalypse outside. A Molotov had destroyed much of the living room where he now crouched before he doused it with the garden hose. Kyle had pistol in hand, and bat within easy reach. He peaked over the piece of wall. A platoon of navy men were marching, and came to a halt on the street.
At their head was- well, a knight was the only way to describe him. He was eight or nine feet tall. Bedecked in crimson armor that reminded Kyle of the Crusades, green eyes rested deep in the darkness of the helmet’s visor. His horse was a fiery red. A massive sword was scaled to his bulky frame, and raised in attack. Wordlessly, the rider lowered his sword at Kyle’s house, and the troops began to march across the lawn. Kyle sucked in a deep breath, and prepared to open fire. He couldn’t take them all, maybe only two, but he could make his last moments count.
A blinding beam of light from the sky bisected Jerry’s lawn, stopping the soldiers in their tracks. When the light dimmed, four more horsemen were in the flower bed. The soldiers immediately opened fire, and Kyle felt a pain explode through his chest, and looked down at a spreading mass of red. He slumped, his view of the new horsemen unimpeded. The bullets all seemed to miss the men. One of the men, bedecked in a sweater, rode to the head of the group and began speaking to the soldiers. Kyle couldn’t hear the words over his pounding heartbeat, but one by one the soldiers stopped firing, but their weapons were still trained on the Sweater Knight. Another, this one whose massive hair seemed almost a helmet, produced a large white rectangle and began painting on it, brushes flashing across the canvas. And one by one, the soldiers lowered their weapons. Kyle’s vision blurred, and everything went black.
An eternity passed, and Kyle stirred. A horse was in his living room, and another man stood over him, deep in concentration. It took him a minute to recognize the hair and beard, as it had been many years since he had seen the man on television. “Are you…. Are you Jim Henson?” The bearded man smiled and said nothing. Wordlessly, he tossed something to Kyle, who caught it. It was a military-grade bullet. Glancing down, his wound was gone.
Staggering outside, he saw the other three riders. The two he had seen speaking he now recognized as Bob Ross and Mr. Rogers, who now stood on either side of the red rider, sword now held in custody of Mrs. Wilksborough, though it was nearly twice her height. A fourth man, younger than the rest and dressed as if for a safari, stood at a base of a maelstrom of birds, spinning faster and faster. He raised his arms, and the maelstrom flew up and out into the sky. Slowly, the ashen skies gave way to their original blue. The younger man looked over at Kyle and smiled, and Kyle choked up. He had loved all these personalities in his youth, and Steve Irwin had always been his favorite.
Kyle looked around, and saw Jim Henson walking towards to Jerry’s house. The neighbors were smiling, and chatting, and Kyle smiled too. He went to go grab Diane and the kids. Maybe the apocalypse was not today. Maybe all they needed was a little wholesomeness. | 2018-11-10T05:35:31 | 2018-11-10T05:17:27 | 149 | 23 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | I wake to my phone buzzing on the night stand. I look at the clock next to it. The green numbers shine brightly: 3:14 AM.
'What the hell?' I think to myself. 'Why is anyone texting me at 3 in the morning?'
Before I can take a look, it starts buzzing again. And again. It won't stop. I grab the phone and mute it quickly but the notifications continue to pop up silently. "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." They're texts coming from my mother, my friends, my siblings, even some numbers I don't recognize.
An unfamiliar alarm blares on my phone. A new notification pops up on my phone, titled US Government Emergency Alert. It reads "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON."
'This is weird,' I think to myself, 'What the hell could be wrong with the moon?'
I walk to my window. I carefully open the curtains halfway so the moon is still covered. The sight is incredible.
Almost all of my neighbors are standing outside, phone in hand. They're staring upward in the direction of the moon. They're walking around talking to each other, pointing to the sky.
'I gotta see what the hell is going on.'
I walk outside and jog over next door, carefully keeping my eyes lowered. My neighbour is standing by his door. I'm about to call out to him when he interrupts me.
"Hey! Have you seen the moon tonight?" he asks.
"Listen man, something weird is going on. It's 3 in the morning, why are you outside right now? Why is half the neighbourhood outside?" I reply.
"You haven't looked yet, have you?" he laughs.
"Did you just ignore everything I said? Why are you outside? What's wrong with the moon?"
Without warning, my neighbor rushes up to me and places a hand on each side of my head. He violently turns my head toward the sky. "Just look!"
Oh. OH. I get it now. This is... incredible. It's impossible. There's no way this can be happening. It's... I don't even know. I have to tell someone about this.
I take out my phone and draft a message, addressed to everyone on my contact list. I slowly tap in the words "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside."
| The explosions had been rumbling off in the distance for hours as a young boy tried to drift off to sleep. The war might be raging, but the Allied Forces had deemed his village far enough away that an evacuation was only advised, not mandatory. With his mother the way that she was, the brunette knew that he would be sleeping in his own bed as soon as he heard those words. Still, the sounds persisted even as they faded into the background and then became an incorporated soundtrack to vague, shifty dreams.
A repetitive chirp woke him up as the witching hour drew to a close. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes in annoyance, he glanced at his blocky phone, the display lit up with hundreds of messages, all from unknown numbers, telling him to look at the moon. Above that, in bright red letters, scrolled a message “DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON”. It all seemed so ridiculous, the boy thought as he lay back down, ignoring his phone. Still, curiosity gnawed at him. *What was so special about the moon tonight?*
10 minutes passed, then 15, and still the boy couldn’t shake his curiosity. Finally heeding the gnawing drive in his chest, the boy sat up again, this time turning to his window, barred tight against the October chill. Brushing aside his curtains, the boy was greeted by the sight of a blood red moon for almost an instant, marred by rings and three black tomoe, before he woke up again to spring birds chirping. | 2022-08-07T14:17:42 | 2018-04-06T18:58:31 | 712 | 12 |
[WP] A bloodied up child knocks on your door in the middle of the night, asking that you let her in. A man stands across the street watching. | It's nearly midnight as I hear a frantic knock on my front door, quickly driving me up from my comfortable chair. I can't say I'm too pleased about the distraction - a nice cup of hot cocoa in me, I was gently snoozing off into the blissful realm of dreams and forgotten memories to take my well-earned rest.
I open the door to an unexpected sight - a child, perhaps 9 winters of age, covered in a generous amount of blood as if it ran through an abattoir. Its eyes are wild and panicky, sizing me up and down, occasionally looking behind it. I quickly spot what it's scanning for - a tall man standing across a street, obscured by darkness. He's just a silhouette but even in the dim shine on the moon, I can tell that something is... *off* about him. The hands are just a tiny bit too long; the fingertips, too pointed.
*"Sir, you have to let me in, please! That man has been following me, he's- he's killed my parents sir, please, you have to let me-"*
**\*thwump\***
The force of the bolt from my crossbow hitting the kid throws it back a good half meter. I calmly reach behind the door for a spare bolt and start reloading while splitting my attention between the kid on the porch and the man in the shadows. He's still there, motionless, observing. I can't see where exactly he's looking, but I feel that his eyes are fixed upon me, burning a hole in my soul. Call it a gut feeling.
**\*thwump\***
The second bolt lodges itself firmly in the kid's chest. It shrieks and starts convulsing on the floor; its limbs start extending far beyond their reasonable measures, the skin turns pale and sickly. A terrible stench of rotten flesh and copper fills the air as trickles of yellow-ish puss pour from the tears in the skin where the appendages extended too much - it does that when they morph into smaller creatures and turn back too quickly. The features of what was once a face quickly dissipate, leaving behind only a blank patch of skin with two long, dark slits running across its head. As it finishes turning back to its original form, there is nothing even remotely resembling the child it tried to imitate. It was a convincing likeness, I'll give it that. But I've seen too many to get fooled now.
I raise my eyes from the creature on the floor to find the mysterious man in the shadows gone. I assume he's realized the ruse failed and left, perhaps to find easier prey, perhaps to gather others to try and claim vengeance. Can't say I'm too worried either way; the number of traps, glyphs, and charms in my home, they'd need an army to get through. I take one last look at the despicable thing on the lawn before closing the door. Too risky to go out now, I'll burn the body in the morning.
Even though I doubt they'll be back tonight, I'll go check the charms and wards around the house, then go put a kettle on for coffee. Best not doze off too easy now, just to be on the side of caution. I longingly look at my cozy armchair before slinging the crossbow across my shoulder and setting off to the kitchen.
It's going to be a long night. | It was odd enough to get a knock on the door. More so when it was at... half ten? And it wasn't all that loud either.
Gallows frowned. Despite the rampant alcoholism dulling his mind, it was still sharp enough to know that a kid was outside. With a bottomless hipflask in one hand, he strolled up to his front door, waking past monochrome pictures hung on grey walls and burning lamps suspended from the ceiling with nooses. He unlocked the door, and peered out of it.
A kid, just as he thought. She was splattered in blood, and her eyes were wide. It was all he needed to know to figure out what had happened, even discarding her pyjamas and bare feet. Which raised a few questions; who died? How many? How much did she see? Obviously too much, she saw at least one family member murdered, quite brutally at that. And where was...
...Was that him? On the other side of the road was a man, standing under a streetlight. Black suit, black tie, black hair slicked back. Beyond that, he looked... ordinary. Absolutely average.
Except it was like looking at a mannequin. He was stock-still, and was staring directly at Gallows. There was also something wrong with its proportions. The torso was a bit too wide, arms too long, and the face too... perfect. Far too perfect.
Gallows sighed. "Sorry, you were sayin' something, sproglet?"
The kid had been trying to get his attention by pulling on his sleeve.
"Just... get inside, and wait."
She shuffled past him, slipping into the colourless hall of burning oil.
He cleared his throat as the door behind him closed, and he walked across the road to the strange man. Up close, the oddities were more pronounced, though it was doubtful if anyone would be able to tell at a glance. Anyone besides Gallows, at any rate, and that may or may not have been due to paranoia on his part. Even unfounded, an unhealthy suspicion of anything and anyone was still useful, and a lifetime or two analysing and studying every small thing had burned into his habits.
Which meant a few things. He knew that whatever the hell this thing was killed the kid's family, or at least someone close to her. That it was very, *very* dangerous. That it believed that Gallows would turn the kid away. That he was a normal, bog-standard human being.
And that all the above made it irredeemably *fucked.* | 2022-01-09T12:17:52 | 2022-01-09T11:20:07 | 30 | 15 |
[WP] There is an old folklore about a man in a forest. If you meet him, and speak with him, he will grant you your greatest wish. In return, he will also take away your most cherished possession. You, someone with nothing left to lose, go to meet him. | Michael stood face to face with the old man. "I know the deal," he said. "My greatest wish for my most treasured possession. Thing is, I don't have anything left."
The old man raised his eyebrows. He'd heard it all before.
Michael continued. "I know what you're thinking. Yeah, I lost my job, my house, all that crap. But my family isn't dead. Well, not all of them. That's what I'm here for. I..I just want Jen to love me again. I want another chance."
The old man smiled and started to speak, but Michael interrupted him again. "Look. I know what you do to guys like me. You take away their memories, who they are. Well, go ahead. You're getting the rotten end of the deal. I don't have anything in this head of mine that's worth keeping. A new start might be good, if I have Jen by my side. So do your worst."
The old man hid his smirk as he touched Michael's forehead and pronounced, "It is done."
As Michael walked away, his heart began to sink. He could remember everything. The doctor's visits, the drunken arguments, the final slamming of the door before everything went to hell. What had the old man taken from him, if not his memories?
It must have been something incredible to make Jen want him again. Jen...Jen...as he thought of her, the familiar feeling of warmth was gone. A numb void sat in its place. What was so special about Jen? She had left him. He cursed himself for wasting his wish on such an insignificant person. He realized that he didn't even love her. Maybe he never had.
Back in the forest, the old man laughed.
| "What is your name, sir? I have come to make a deal."
"You will learn my name. But you've come here to outsmart me, haven't you?" He smirked.
"I'm 65 years old, i have $43 in the bank, no family, no house. You are free to take whatever possession of mine that you wish."
"Well I suppose we must make a deal then. Just write what you desire on the first four lines, sign it, and then I will fulfill the bottom line with what i choose to take from you. I assure you it will be a physical possession."
*i want to be the most powerful man in the world, with infinite riches and infinite influence*
"Ah, excellent choice. It can be done, of course. Now sign there."
"My turn."
*P-A-C-E...*
"What on earth?"
*...M-A-K-E-R*
"No..."
"The name is Lucifer, my good sir."
| 2017-11-25T09:09:39 | 2017-11-25T08:53:47 | 189 | 51 |
[WP] Upon signing the truce that ended the years long war, the aliens were shocked to find that for humans, death was permanent. | The war had raged for seventy years. The Traxian's had struck first, with a surprise attack on the shipyards at AD Leonis, but slowly humanity had driven them back through the novel use of fighter-carrying spacecraft, an innovation that the Traxian's never managed to duplicate.
Today, as the 53rd, 27th, 23rd and 9th fleets orbit above the Traxian homeworld, and fourteen other fleets orbited other planets in the system, the bombardment platform Elagabalus welcomed the Traxian Delegation aboard to sign the Instrument of Surrender.
'Present Arms!'
The thousand marines, who had up until a week ago been preparing to launch the largest space-born invasion in the history of Human Warfare, snapped to attention, weapons presented as the dozen delegates of the Traxian Empire stepped out of the Terran cutter.
Slowly, as if uncomfortable, the Traxian's walked towards the table at far end of the hanger. Behind it hung the flags of over two hundred human nations and planets. Some had not been obtainable in time, particularly those of the Oceanic Powers, which operated the five fleet currently deployed on the border of the Na'av to deter aggression, but the fleet had managed to sew together new ones before the start of the ceremony.
As the Traxian's reached the table, Admiral Drake stood up.
'While the leaders of the Nations of Earth and the Planets of the Terran Dominion were unable to attend today due to the vast distances at which this great conflict was fought, we are gathered here as their representatives, to sign a solemn pact which shall restore peace to our corner of the galaxy.'
To the side, translators whispered into the Traxian's ears, providing them with a version they could understand.
'The issues involving divergent ideals and ideologies have been determined through the death of billions of humans and . . .'
At this, a Traxian spoke up. The Admiral paused, annoyance clear on his face, before nodding at the translator to continue. 'What is this death that you speak of?'
Confusion was evident on the faces of all delegates, and even a few marines before they managed to smooth out their features.
Finally, Admiral Zhang spoke 'Death is the word we use for the end of life, when a persons body ceases to function and they end their corporeal existence.'
There was a long pause, lasting almost a minute, before the Traxian spoke again. 'Your soldiers died in this war?'
Only the force of hard training kept some of the closest marines from reacting with violence, none of which had escaped the war without losing a close friend or loved one, either through Traxian atrocities or through combat.
Zhang narrowed her eyes. 'Did yours not?' she asked.
'Of course not' the Traxian replied. 'We have biological backups that are implanted into our next generation. We only die when we chose to, it is why we found your word use confusing.'
'At worst, we lose a few years of experiences.'
From the ranks of marines, a voice rang out 'No wonder the scum are so willing to wage war on us, they don't fear the consequences.'
They were quickly quieted by their commanding officer, but a sudden pall hung over the ceremony. Quietly, General Ayala quoted to Admiral Zhang “It is well that war is so terrible, otherwise we should grow too fond of it.”
13(14)/71 - Σ7,945 | 'Oh,' said the intergalactic commander, 'Are you rather sure? That just doesn't seem right to me.' The general of the human forces was staring him dead in the eye, trying to stop his curled up, white knuckled fist from resuming the ending war. 'Yes, I am.' 'No, you're having me on! What evolutionary sense does it make for your species to die?'
The Intergalactic Commander slithered down the hall feeling rather dejected. He had always enjoyed the title, 'Master tactician and Commander of the Forces of Light,' but this whole 'Slayer of millions, the ruthless demon commander,' name the humans had given him just wasn't feeling as good. The stress he had adopted during the war and had taken responsibility for was taking a new form that was more difficult to deal with, and just when he thought it was meant to be leaving him. He had to kill ten people before he finally believed the human commander, it was the tears that had swayed him in the end.
Their race usually just transported to a prepared body when they "Died." It had been such a long time since the term had relevance on his home world. He just needed to relax and take his mind of things, he went into the crude quarters the humans had for him, set the tap running, and stuck his head into the weird gelled liquid that filled the basin and started screaming. Truly there was nothing more euphoric and relaxing. He enjoyed clearing the toxins from his body as he entered a state of hyper stress before quickly being induced into a state of calmness.' Now that he had gotten the stress out of his system he felt.... He still felt bad. It took him a while to realise why.
'Aw, if the humans die, then they are finite, a strategic dismantling of the human race would be easy for me.' The long term losses would be costly, humans had weapons that destroyed their environments, but they would recover. And when they did, they could finally claim the secret hidden within the Earth.
-5 years later-
Today, today the Commander of the Forces of Light walked through a mountain of corpses, again, as it had been happening much more frequently recently, the tears flashed in his head. The stress had gotten worse, the detoxifications had stopped helping and he found himself still screaming when he took his head from the gelled liquid. He stood among the bodies, and the secret of the Earth had yet to present itself. He broke down, making a horrid attempt at human tears. Had he only looked within himself, he would have found the secret he long desired, the one that made him cry now. | 2020-06-29T17:15:46 | 2020-06-29T17:15:38 | 159 | 50 |
[WP] Everyone in the world is able to choose exactly one superpower. The catch: the more people select a certain power, the weaker it becomes.
Example: if many people choose telekinesis, they'll only be able to move small, light objects. If many people choose time travel, they'll only be able to go back a few seconds. | Strength and flight are vastly overrated. No, really, ask anyone stupid enough to take them. They're basically worthless, oh boy I can float am inch off of the ground or lift something slightly heavier! No real thought went into those choices, dumbasses just wanted to be Superman.
Everyone remembers that group of people in Nevada who teamed up, each one able to conjure up rare gems and metals... Which eventually drove down the prices of those materials, turning their billion dollar idea into squat.
Poor future planning.
And who could forget that poor girl in New Hampshire who accidentally got too excited on her birthday, went nuclear, and wiped out half the state. (I've heard she actually survived and is sitting in a mental ward deep underground.)
As for me, though, no statues will ever be erected in my honor. No plaques posted signifying my birthplace. Hell, even the geneticists who gave me my abilities remember doing it.
Who am I? I'm the guy at the party whose name no one ever catches. I'm the guy in the background of the pictures who no one remembers talking to or seeing.
I'm the guy who can walk into a bank, rob the place, and walk out without being bothered about it.
I'm the guy who saw a world full of people who wanted to be somebody and chose to be nobody.
I'm the Forgettable Face, and I get away with it.
In fact, you won't even remember me telling you this when I leave this room, with everything you own. | As George walked out of the store, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Sure, his power wasn't showy, not like the guys who could shoot small flames out of their hands, or move small objects with their minds, but how often did somebody need to do that? No his power was subtle, but very strong, because he was the only person in the world who chose it, and he always had a reason to use it several times a week. George had chosen the power to always be in the fastest checkout lane and he had never regretted it. He glanced at his watch, he had only been in the store for twelve minutes, he had plenty of time to get to his next appointment. It was a good day. | 2015-05-05T10:11:25 | 2015-05-05T09:33:46 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Dungeons and Raids exist in the real world. Today, you and some Guild members decide to do The Bermuda Triangle. | My team and I were some of the best. Around the world, we found success and riches raiding the deepest and darkest dungeons, where few others dared to go. Disciplined and experienced, we no longer feared ancient spells or beastly guardians.
We had been lying low for a couple of years after our last “big one” – Dracula’s Castle in Transylvania – and truth be told, we all could’ve retired. We certainly had enough gold. The banality of a regular life, though, didn’t suit us. We were hungry for another raid, bigger even than the last. So, naturally, we were all ears when some old kook claimed to have found the entrance to the dungeon beneath the Bermuda Triangle. Long-undiscovered, but suspected as the source of the region’s occult happenings, this dungeon would certainly be a challenge, even for the best of the best.
We travelled to Florida, and met this discoverer in his home in a fishing hamlet on the Atlantic Coast. He was surprisingly normal and rational for a dungeon enthusiast – too often in the past did we have to decipher cryptic ravings of manic hermits. He showed us on his maps where he expected the entrance to be. While we were not entirely certain, he was convincing enough for our party and we agreed to give it our best. He offered his son as a guide, which our captain accepted, but admittedly, this made me uneasy. The young man was a mute, and seemed to be drilling right through me with his black, beady eyes. Nonetheless, it would be helpful to have a local to help us navigate these difficult waters, and I would not let discomfort about a frail lad overcome my professionalism as a raider. We set out on a small vessel from the hamlet’s docks that next morning, fair weather and sunshine bolstering our confidence.
That soon turned for the worse, though. The sky turned a sickly grey and the seas grew disturbingly still as we approached the coordinates of this alleged entrance. Even amongst our experienced group, the unease was palpable. The oppressive silence in place of the usual sounds of the sea did nothing to ease our nerves. Perhaps there was some foul magic about this place, to sap us of our cheer. All the while, our silent guide seemed to split the focus of his dark eyes between the horizon, and me.
I felt equal parts relieved and anxious when the ominous black shape began to appear in the distance. *A ship,* I thought at first, but then it grew too large. *An island, perhaps. Or our destination.* Our approach continued, at once numbingly slow and all too fast. At last, our mute guide rose from his bench and pointed to his map, then to the shape taking form in the distance. We had arrived.
Our captain spoke, his commanding voice a welcome break in the silence. “Lower the sails! Drop anchor! We wait here. Remember the plan, men. We split off into the row boats at nightfall, approach silently once the sun goes down. Harkness and Greene will lead the two squads. Equip your Essence of Night on the approach, and Ulf will cast Protecting Grasp when we land in case anything is lurking there. This is a solid plan, men, and there’s nothing on that –“
Before the captain could finish recounting the plan, our long-silent guide finally spoke up.
“Alright chums, times up. Let’s do this.”
He tore his shirt from his chest, and as he dove off the boat, roared:
“LEEROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOY JEEEEEEENKIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNS!!!”
| As Raid Leader, I made sure to get to the docks well before go-time. It was a great day - couldn't be better, really - and I felt a surge of excitement with every soft billow of cool, salty air coming in off the sea. On the logistical end, everything seemed to be coming together. The crew we paid to ferry us out to BT had the ship ready and waiting. To kill some time, I made sure to triple check my inventory. First Aid Kit, rifle, ammunition... there was plenty of food and fresh on the ship, so we really only had to come with our combat gear.
About fifteen minutes before our schedule departure time, I saw a familiar face approaching. It didn't surprise me in the slightest to see Aly's awkward smile as she approached, at this point it was more tradition than anything. I was here early out of duty, and she always seemed to be the second to arrive. Most of our gang thought of her as the 'guild mom', so to speak, as she was the kind to always take on a bit of extra burden and bring enough supplies to give out to the slackers who refused to come prepared.
We exchanged some pleasantries, and stood around in slightly awkward silence while we waited for the others to arrive. I've always been pretty certain that she digs this kinda stoicism, and that one day she'll see me as more than a friend. Not today, though. We've got a raid to conquer.
Or, at least I hope so. A handful of our regulars show up just moments before we're supposed to go, and Jake apologized for the delay. Apparently some of the Taco Bell they got en route didn't sit well with him, and they burned a good half hour while he prayed for his end in a remote gas station somewhere along the highway. Whatever, shit happens.
At this point the captain comes down to ask what's going on, and I can only shrug helplessly. I ask him to hold on for another fifteen minutes while I make some calls. The rest of the gang (and a few more late-arrivals) are visibly worried, but I put on a brave face and start looking through my contact list. I make call after call, and with each one my heart grows heavier.
"Sorry bro, got a test next week."
"LOL THAT WAS TODAY???"
"Ugh, man I wanna be there but I am just so burned out..."
"BRB CAT IS ON FIRE"
"I am at a hard [10] bro, you don't want me healing"
"Ah shit man I didn't think I'd be able to make it this week so I ran with a PUG earlier...."
"My mom says I can't go that far out to sea any more"
Then, of course, the ones who don't even answer my texts or calls.
Goddammit, raiding sucks. | 2016-03-31T10:35:44 | 2016-03-31T08:15:16 | 248 | 58 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.