prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] You don't sleep. Instead you die every day and 8 hours later you wake up in the body of a person who has 16 hours left to live. | I died last night.
I died as a nobody, a drunken drug-abuser, lying on the streets ^(I hated it.), with my brain shutting down in an entire *swimming pool* of amphetamines ^(Why would you waste your life like that? You could have done something good and went out a hero, yet the last 16 hours I see through your eyes, you look yourself in the mirror telling yourself, "maybe I'll make it tomorrow", while I have no way of telling you that if I'm here, you're about to fucking die.), where everything seemed to dim away. I looked at the wall filled with graffiti ^(This isn't fair. I don't get to live a proper normal life, I'm stuck in spectator mode in what seems to be forever, and this) **^(fucker)** ^(wastes his life away? It's not fair.), and then I was looking at nothing ^(I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.).
I died last night.
I died as a billionaire who had everything to his name, a billionaire who had a family who actually *cared* about me even when I was *so* goddamn old ^(How long have I been in this cycle of hell? How many times have I had to watch grieving families?), who loved me so very much, and I heard myself say, "it's okay, I'll be joining your grandmother, and we'll be watching out for you all." ^(I've forgotten- did anyone cry for my death? Did I die?) I lay on the deathbed, my children and grandchildren cried for me ^(Did I have children? Who am I?), the tears streamed down my face, and then I was looking at nothing ^(Having people care for you and knowing it... you're the luckiest, aren't you?).
I died last night.
I died as an average citizen living in the city ^(God, please, no.), scheduling for my next dentist appointment. As a citizen who loved work, as a citizen who tried and failed to keep a consistent political view ^(Why them?), who simply wanted to live day-to-day while having a motivational calendar on my room wall ^(They're living normally, why am I here? I don't want to be here.). As a normal person who brushed my teeth before putting on my shoes and heading out to work in what seemed to be business attire ^(god no they don't deserve this). As a person who worked at the office the entire day and had a productive relationship with my colleagues ^(Please. Whatever gods are out there, don't.). I looked up from my phone, I saw a truck ^(Don't do this.), and I saw nothing ^(Not to them.) ^(They don't deserve this.).
I always die last night. I can't stop it.
^(why?) | ABSTRACT: The hippocampus facilitates the consolidation of memory during sleep. The recently-published law of conservation of selfhood quantifies how much memory change can yield a high fidelity copy with respect to a sense of self without requiring significant cortical plasticity. While this helped to provide bounds to the number of uses of preservation units while maintaining the same identity with respect to legal standing, a baseline for expected memory change was only established with respect to other preservation units. Recent nanoreconstructive scanning has allowed for better characterization of hippocampal reconsolidation during sleep, giving a baseline for the expected degree of change for a natural individual human prior to preservation unit use. Our findings suggest that this baseline is subject-dependent and we provide a novel case study for future analysis.
APPENDIX 1, ABNORMAL CASE STUDY:
“One abnormal patient, Henry M., was found to exhibit significant cortical plasticity in response to the onset of hippocampal-initiated memory consolidation during sleep. While we had simply characterized his condition as being prone to seizures, our nanoreconstructive scan determined that a very high degree of plasticity in his entorhinal cortex actually causes an erasure of previous memories during consolidation.
It appears that the changing neural structure makes it difficult for the patient’s procedural memory to maintain grounding to his motor control at long timescales, causing the seizures. Additionally, this patient actually can not be considered as having the same selfhood each day as the degree of memory loss exceeds legally-established selfhood bounds. The onset of this neuroplasticity disease after having reached adulthood allows him to maintain some motor skills, but his personality type seems to depend on the memories formed from the previous day. We consider all legal rights inherent to prior identity associated with the body of Henry M. as void. His preservation unit is posted on the following repository, requiring second class selfhood analysis clearance:”... | 2018-06-20T08:54:24 | 2018-06-20T08:52:20 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] The thousand-year war rages. You and your war party have a new member. Rumors have it he wiped out an entire army himself. You are very surprised to be met with an 8-foot-tall bipedal frog. |
Crouched down, the bulbous tips of his long, slender fingers resting lightly on the ground, he had regarded us calmly with the large black orbs of his eyes. At that first meeting, he looked so small, curious, and fragile. Not unlike the tropical frogs his people resembled, really.
"Croak." he said, as we approached. He didn't croak at us, mind you -- he actually said the word "croak."
"Pardon?" I said, raising an eyebrow, and glancing at my equally perplexed companions.
"Croak is my name -- at least, that is how I am called by your folk, worthy allies." He explained.
I nodded. Our band was made up of skilled scouts and infiltrators from all over the Empire, so having names that were exotic to our fellows was normal, to us. Those whose native tongues were very different from Imperial tended to choose a translation or nickname in the common speech.
"You are welcome among our number, Croak." I said. "Senator Brr'ubbet speaks highly of your skill."
Croak's people were new to the empire, and he was the first of his kind to formally join a military unit. The old chieftain they'd chosen as their Imperial Senator, Brr'ubbet, claimed that he'd once killed an entire Black Horde expeditionary force all by himself, and insisted he'd be an invaluable addition to the Imperial Rangers. I doubted the veracity of this, of course. Croak was from a tribal culture, and warfare among such hunter-gatherers often involved as much intimidation and boasting as bloodshed.
"What is our mission, Sir?" Croak asked, in lightly accented but otherwise flawless Imperial.
"There's a fortified Black Horde town not far from here. It's too close to the border for comfort, so we've been ordered to scout the location, and find a way to undermine it if possible." I explained.
"So they must die?" Croak asked, eagerly.
While I might doubt that he'd killed an army on his own, I didn't doubt his hatred for the Empire's ancient enemies. The Black Horde had burned thousands of acres of the rainforests where Croak's people made their homes, and reportedly did not spare the hatchery ponds where his folk reared the tadpole-like infants of their kind.
"Eliminating the town would be ideal, of course, but--" I began, hesitantly.
And that was when he stood up. His limbs might have been skeletally slender, but they were *long,* almost uncannily so. Standing fully upright, our amphibian friend towered over us by two feet or more.
"It will be done." Croak said, solemnly.
Without another word, he crouched back down, and then leaped high into the air, vanishing into the treetops.
It was three days before the rest of the company reached the town. We reckoned Croak must have gotten there a day or more ahead of us.
When we arrived, everyone in the Horde settlement was dead. Corpses lay everywhere, though there was scarcely a drop of blood to be seen. We saw no sign of Croak.
One of my men, an especially skilled tracker with some training as a surgeon, rolled over one of the bodies laying in the town square, and examined it carefully. He smelled its lips, and pried open its sightless eyes, then repeated this with a few more corpses as we watched uncomfortably. We were no strangers to the grim, quiet work that sometimes needed to be done to keep the Empire safe, but this was unsettling, even for Imperial Rangers. Finally, he grimaced, looking back at me from where he knelt by one of the dead.
"Poison." he declared, simply.
"All of them?" I exclaimed, incredulously. "How?"
Then I heard a croak. The sound, not the name, this time. I followed it to the center of the town square...to the well in the middle of the settlement.
I peered down into the darkness of the well. As my eyes adjusted, I saw Croak, submerged up to his neck in the dark water, his big black eyes regarding me calmly. A faintly iridescent liquid glistened on his exposed blue skin, and seeped into the water around him, becoming invisible as it dissolved.
"Mission complete, sir." Croak said, his voice echoing up from the poisoned depths. | I shouldn't have been surprised. I really shouldn't. After all, the war had raged for my lifetime, my parents, and my grandparent's lifetime. It was insanity after insanity But... I stared up at the new member of our little group. He was a frog. Sure, he was large and definitely muscular and more brightly coloured than I would have thought. But he was a frog...
"Hello. I've been assigned to your group. My name is Garthaking. I am honoured to fight alongside such great warriors." He bowed, his voice only a little hoarse. I almost asked him if he had a frog in his throat. Extending my hand I introduced myself.
"I'm Captain Reiger. Pleased to meet you." He bowed again, ignoring my hand. I dropped it, trying not to feel offended. Different people, different traditions. Maybe shaking hands was offensive to him.
"I'll take you round to the others."
———————
"Enemies in the camp! Get up! Enemies!" The shout rang out louder than anyone in our party had ever been able to yell. At least before we got Garthaking. That was him yelling. I jumped out of bed looking regretfully at my armour. There was no time for that. Grabbing my fighting spears I dashed out of the tent, buck naked, the wind scraping over my lightly feathered body. A growling form rose in front of me and I dispatched it. The camp was roiling, how did all these enemies get here? I spun as claws raked my back. Stabbing into the shadows a yelp told me I had landed a hit.
"Everyone rally to me! To me!" Again Garthaking shouted, and I found myself obeying the loud voice. Never mind that I was the Captain. If he was half the warrior his rumours made him out to be, we would need him tonight. I drew closer to the hulking form of the frog warrior, counting out the figures of my own men that surrounded him. Relief flashed through me as I stabbed into another figure. They were all there.
"Captain!" Garthaking saluted me, casually backhanding another attacker. "Permission to unleash a full assault on these vermin."
"Permission granted. Anything you need from us?"
"Stay back." With that, Garthaking jumped into the fray. Literally. He rose into the air, thumping down into the center of the massed enemy warriors. And he dealt death. Like a whirlwind, he was everywhere. It took me a few seconds to parse what he was doing. He was *embracing* the enemy?
For a second, I believed he had betrayed us. I even opened my mouth to shout, but then I saw what happened to those he touched. They convulsed, falling to the ground dead. His very touch was poison. Remembering the day he came I shuddered, suddenly thankful that he hadn't shaken my hand.
It was over in the next few minutes. And when Garthaking came up to me, he wasn't even breathing heavily.
"Pleased to report the enemy is dead, Sir." I stared at him, trying to come up with something to say.
"Good work soldier. You're not bad. For a Frog-kind." He smiled at my words, the large gummy smile that had so unsettled me when I first saw it.
"You're not too bad either, Sir. For a Heron-kind." | 2022-06-28T07:30:45 | 2022-06-28T05:21:46 | 745 | 120 |
[WP] You read a comment on reddit so stupid your IQ drops to negative leading to an integer error. Congratulations, now you have 2,147,483,647 IQ. | At first, there were desires to watch cat and street fight videos. Which quickly descended to not being able to comprehend the keyboard in front of me. Which quickly lead to forgetting the spelling of my name and understanding of language.
Soon, breathing became difficult, and darkness enveloped my vision as my heart stopped beating. I sank inside myself, I was so stupid all I could do was drool and hardly exist.
Then as quickly as I lost it, I was awakened. And my comprehension shot up exponentially. I only spent a couple of minutes within my status quo before more and more understanding and brain power expanded in my mind.
At 50,000 IQ, telekinesis developed. Double that and it became second nature. Double that and everything in my apartment was floating and dismantling at a molecular level as easy as I breathe. Double that and I no longer possessed the energy to fuel my own damn mind, but it didn't stop.
Within minutes I was in a cylinder of my own creation floating in fluid that provided nutrients to my body and acted as a cooling system. I blinked and hit the million. The two hemispheres of my mind melded together and my third eye was created.
The third eye was just a pupil. An all seeing black sphere that could transcend time and see all. My body dissolved and my reach expanded to every metropolis on the planet. I was the crust of the planet.
But it didn't stop. I was living in electricity, I was breathing through the trees, and regulating ecosystems and economies. And then 2 million IQ was on the horizon.
A bright light came, and what I can only describe as the Intergalactic Eye welcomed me to the universe. I created a type A civilization. I was the sentient planet that was made to lead humanity beyond.
And now, as humanity goes crazy trying to understand the change that happened within several hours, I am ready to complete my responsibility and bring peace and immortality to my planet. But first....
**In a small apartment, somewhere**
Jerry finished his online trolling for the day as he knocked back the rest of the 2 liter Dew. He returned to his computer, Ramen freshly cooked, ready to play at his battle station until the night drained to morning. Though upon logging in, he noticed something was off. No matter the key he hit, all that would come up on the screen were the words, "you are a twat".
| He stared at the screen, flask forgotten in his hand as he stared at *it*. He could feel the fog in his head lift. He could see the inner workings of everything around him, how the gypsum in his drywall held itself together, the intricate chemical reactions as his plant stored the meager light in the room in tiny carbon rings, the electrons knocked from their own circular orbits across the p-n junctions in each LED in his monitor. But there was one thing still unclear.
*IQ is an invented measurement, and reality affects measurements, not the other way around*
Then he saw them, the inconsistencies in the world around him. He stood with a belch, doned the lab coat that had been sitting in his closet since high school, and, with drool still stuck to his chin, went to the garage. He began assembling random pieces of life's detritus into a vaguely backpack shaped device with a button hanging off. As he finished the creation began to glow slightly and hum. He put it on, grabbed a baseball bat and pressed the
What the fuck, he just, like, disappeared, where did he... what...
The baseball bat cracked against my skull.
"You fucking *belch* idiot, electrons don't actually orbit that's *hic* like 3% correct.
*kick* And unsigned integers, the kind that can't handle negative numbers, have *belch* a limit of 4,294,967,295. And you stole your main fucking character from a fucking cartoon you piece of *hic* shit." | 2017-07-31T06:33:51 | 2017-07-31T06:20:37 | 64 | 25 |
[WP]: The most sought woman in the town has announced that she will marry whoever can open her door with the key around her cats neck. Many have tried to catch, trap and hunt down the cat, who always escapes. You are the first to figure out they've all been doing this all wrong. | There was anger in Elle’s face as her dad announced her dowry offer in the middle of the town’s hundred year anniversary celebration. She stomped away angrily finding me in the crowd. She grasped my hand and pulled me away quickly from the party. We hurried away to a quiet spot outside of town and plopped down. Her hand squeezed mine tightly.
“Can you believe it?” She demanded. “like I’m property to be bought and sold?! That I wouldn’t have my own dreams and goals in life. It’s disgusting.”
I sighed and looked wistfully at the road that led away from town. My heart felt like breaking. “My parent’s only hope for me is to find a husband that owns land.” I noticed how nice and new her dress was compared to my tattered dress. Her dowry was high. There would be a lot of interested parties.
“What would you want to do, Trista? If you can do anything?” She asked.
“I want to go to Stockton and sing. There was a traveling troupe that came through years ago. They asked me to join but I was too scared to leave. I wish I had went.” I confessed a secret that had haunted me for years. A couple tears slipped down my face. I avoided her gaze.
Elle was surprised. “I had no idea. Why didn’t you say anything?”
I shrugged unable to form words.
“What do you think I should do?” She bit her lip anxiously.
Focusing on someone else’s problem, quieted my thoughts. “Think about all those fairy tales we read growing up. A lot of those deal with marriage and obstacles and stuff like that. It might get rid of the men who are clearly interested in your money.”
A wide eyed smile appeared on Elle’s face. An almost evil smile. Another reason why the dowry was so high. Her dad was worried no one would marry her based on her personality. We tended to get into trouble though we were pretty good about covering our tracks.
The next day was the announcement of Elle’s. Open the door using the key around her cat, Thistle’s neck. I choked on my breakfast when my mother relayed that. We had often joked that her cat was part dragon or something the way it would appear and disappear unexpectedly. Her cat also hated men. Her dad kicked it once and Thistle since then hissed at every male.
The first week, the men around town had traps and piles of fish around. The streets were cluttered. Elle looked pleased with the results. Her father was angry. I stayed silent on the issue. The first month was amusing though. Elle was going to be a town legend. By month 6, only the truly persistent continued. Thistle seemed to enjoy bringing misery on the suitors. One evening, Thistle climbed into my bedroom though the window. She crawled into my bed. She purred so loudly as I stroked her fur. I softly sang her a lullaby and she fell asleep. Carefully, I nestled her in my arms to bring back to Elle.
Walking through the dark, I ducked around the traps around town. I snuck into Elle’s room. I knew the house. I didn’t need a key. I moved the cat to her bed. Elle woke up.
“What are you doing?” She asked groggily.
“Returning Thistle. I didn’t think you would be so cruel to her by doing this.” I reprimanded her.
“I hate this.”
“I know.”
We sat silently.
“Where would you go?” I asked. “If you could go anywhere?”
“I think that I would like to go to Stockton, too.” Elle replied.
“To do what?” I asked.
“To see you sing.”
My heart pounded in my chest and I felt my face heat up. She sat up suddenly.
“Let’s go to Stockton.” Her eyes lit up. She tossed her covers off of her. She grasped my hands and looked into my eyes. “Will you come with Thistle and me to Stockton?”
Breathlessly, I whispered, “Yes.” | Humans have always been on the strange side, especially the Sukts. This Sukt however was a wealthy merchant, owning several ships, so we put up with her weirdness. Yep her, but we orcs are egalitarians when it comes to putting up with people due to money. However, she remained alone. One day as I walked through the streets heading somewhere just to find it was nowhere, I spotted a crowd clustered around the notice board. My first assumption was that some one's nude's had been leaked. Last month it was the daughter of the Mayor, he had been livid but what could he do? The artist was never seen. This time it wasn't nudes, it was the annual baking contest. He instantly knew who would win and turned to go, then he spotted the real reason. Gwendoline, the female merchant, was having a contest for her hand in marriage. Whoever could get the key around her cat's neck could marry her. That was an issue, after all my old master, a beast shaaman, had given her that cat. What was its name? Midnight I think. I watched others struggle to capture the cat. It was great fun. The cat lead them on fantastic chases. Bratish cheif's would find themselves stuck and having to beg for help. Rich merchants found themselves with soiled clothes. Corca the Lesbian was pushed into the water. The lawsuit for discrimination went nowhere and she married the defense lawyer.
​
All throughout this the baker, who had indeed won the annual baking contest, kept giving Gwendolyne food. I do wonder how much she was paying him to deliver. The food looked delicious and I would occasionally steal a scone. He, also being Suktish, was the only baker in the orcish city of Tracats that baked them. They were delicious. After two months I had a sudden idea. I ran to where the cat was. Midnight was eating some tarts at the baker's door. No doubt this was an order, I would have to chase the cat away. I reach out my hand and flicked up. A spike of Earth impaled the cat and I grabbed the. I triumphantly went and unlocked Gwendolyne's door. Now I could have a bride and be wealthy. I wouldn't have to do odd jobs with my magic used for menial tasks. I could study with the greatest of the shaaman. I would become great and teach my own students. Oh happy day, oh glorious day. She looked at me and then behind me to the baker carrying the cat. She screeched and ran to him. After hearing what happened Gwendolynechased me out crying. The rules hadn't specified no death, what did she think would happen.
​
She married the baker and I was not invited to the wedding even though the entire city was.
(Adventures in Swiat)
(I mean no ill will towards /u/NicodemusLux 's story. I quite liked it. I just felt like poking some fun at it. If you are he and desire this to be taken down just ask and it will be done.) | 2019-05-01T18:07:25 | 2019-05-01T17:15:21 | 34 | 12 |
[WP] You are a wish lawyer. You help clients negotiate wishes from genies, faeries, dragons, and other wish granting entities.
You also do faustian bargains with devil
Edit: Woo! I finally made it to the top of writing prompts! | “So, for the benefit of the court, could you once again just break down what exactly are the limitations of the wishes you offer, as you explained them to my client?”
The genie looked outraged for a second, then just leaned back on his chair, before launching into explanation in his fullest drawl:
“Typical genie rules, nothing to difficult to understand, usually...” He paused, giving the court a smirk.
“Which are, for the benefit of those present who haven’t had the pleasure of doing business with a genie before now?”
The genie sighed dramatically, “no killing, no bringing dead folks or things back to life, no making any one or thing fall in love, and no wishing for more wishes, or things would just get ridiculous.”
The lawyer paced back and forth a few times, staring at the ceiling as though in deep thought.
“And which of these rules do you believe my client has been in breach of?”
The genie scoffed, “obviously the whole wishing for more wishes one. You know that, or why would we even be here. Why do you lawyers always go over every obvious detail, as though it’s going to make it any better for your case by repeating it.”
The lawyer smiled, candidly: “So my client said the words ‘Please Genie, can I please have more wishes’, or did he ask for a specific number of more wishes or..?”
“Well, no. He did wish for more genies though, which is just madness”
The lawyer turned to address the wider courtroom.
“So as the we have all heard, the standard genie rules state that they may not grant a user with any more wishes. However, I do not recall there being any mention of a rule against wishing for more genies?”
He turned back to the genie, “Or have I misunderstood?” | The sounds of grunts and footsteps penetrated your dreams.
"The wife must be having a nightmare" you thought as you drifted between the waking and dream worlds. As you slowly started deafen yourself to the noise and head back to dreamland a startling revelation throws you back into the waking world with a start.
You are not married. You aren't even dating anyone (dry spell much?). There shouldn't be anyone there but you!!!
Your eyes fly open and scan the faces surrounding your bed. Ifrites, Genies, faeries and demons faces are eyeing you down... The faeries were the worst, they so didn't look like their children book counterparts. Whatever they were paying the PR firm it was worth it!
One of the genies materialized a club in his hand and one by one every single entity in the room took out a blunt weapon.
Genie "You the lawyer guy? Our wish fulfillment not good enough for ya? We'll show you what we do to wise guys around these parts!"
| 2018-07-18T11:47:43 | 2018-07-18T11:05:03 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] "Fool!" The warlock screamed, unharmed from any of the slashes. "The prophecy had stated that no human may slay me!" The unchosen warrior stared at their blade. The sword wasn't human, was it? | "You stabbed me? Why the abyss did you do that?" Felrekar shouted while clutching his side. Blood had already stained his shirt.
"They said human not able to kill you so we run. But I don't like runnin."
Felrekar gasped with pain. "So why didn't you take a bloody horse, I've killed the archmages of three different kingdoms, slain the gryphons and basiliks, gone are the..."
"Why I hide in bush." the man interrupted before smelling the finger he'd been excavating his backside with.
Felrekar couldn't believe it. The prophesized warlock, he had to be, just look at all his accomplishments. Several of them matched the fabled warlock and others were just as grand. For him to he killed by a village idiot with a rusty sword. It was unthinkable.
And yet, his magick wasn't flowing anymore. He couldn't cast even the simplest of spells or mere cantrips. Absolutely nothing. "Hey dunce, where'd you get a sword that can stop magick?"
The fool looked confused before pointing to himself. "Black water."
Was that a town? Felrekar had never heard of it. "Is that a smith?"
"No sticky black water." He grinned stupidly, remembering a fond memory, "make sword burn like scary torch."
It took Felrekar a long moment to realize what he meant. Oil, this idiot, destroyer of dreams and crusher of prophesy had stuck a sword in cursed oil. The ultimate absorber of infernal energies, which is the shade his magick had long since turned. What kind of joke was this?
The pain had turned to agony at this point, but Felrekar had to know. "The prophesy said no human could kill me. So how did you?"
The idiot looked at him like he was the fool. After what felt like a long moment of coughing up blood the man answered, "This sword not a man, it sword. I call her Hyda."
Felrekar managed to shout weakly, "Curse you gods, I killed every damn hydra cause of your shitty prophesy and it was a halfwit you should have warned me about."
"I ain't no halfwit." were the last words the infamous Felrekar ever heard.
r/AurumArgenteus | Gremlack was pretty sure it had to be the sword. She certainly wasn’t human. Her long, pointed teeth, yellow skin, and protruding ears were proof enough of that. Those ears were the main reason why so many of her kind had died in the war. Getting a proper helm forged had cost her most of her savings, but her life surely made up for that. And if not, finishing the mission would provide due compensation.
“Alright, no sword.” Gremlock drew a dagger, attempting to plunge it into the warlock’s thigh. Still no effect. “Alright, what gives?” Gremlock was curious now; her father’s dagger had been forged by the legendary goblin smith Archad, nothing human about it.
“It’s simple, you foolish creature!” The warlock was grinning widely now. “A human sent you to kill me. Thus you are the tool of a human and no threat to me. You may as well give up now.”
Now it was Gremlock’s turn to smile. “Alright, the hard way” she grinned, pulling a large net from her bag. She threw the net over the warlock and began dragging them out of the cathedral.
“Was only hired to stop you. Thought killing you was easier, tall folk are heavy.” Despite their struggles, there was nothing the warlock could do. The anti-magic net was quite secure. | 2022-06-12T15:38:13 | 2022-06-12T14:03:45 | 203 | 129 |
[WP] You finally won the lottery. $20 million. You go to sleep that night a rich and happy person. You wake up to a nurse, explaining you've just awoken from a coma.
Edit: for everyone saying "taxes on the winnings and medical bills for the coma"....I'm Canadian. I never thought of such atrocities. | I awake, my vision a white blur; I gasp for breath, lunging upright. An alarm is ringing somewhere far away.
I hear a voice. A woman's.
The haze begins to lessen a little and I see I'm in a white room, with a single window and not much else. I see *her*. She's walking towards me.
"Welcome back," she says, gently pushing me back down onto the bed. "I wasn't sure I'd ever get to speak to you." Her soft smile is reassuring.
"Where - *where am?*" I'm hyperventilating.
"Breathe, now," she says. "Like this." She puts her hands in front of her stomach, moving them away as she takes a deep breath. "Hold it for five seconds. Then, exhale for five."
I try to copy, and eventually, my heart begins to pump a little less furiously.
"That's right, just relax. Very good."
"Please, where am I?" I beg.
The lady is dressed in blue and white. "Saint Bartholomew's hospital," she answers.
"*Hospital?* I repeat, stupidly.
She nods. "You've been in a coma, for quite some time."
"What? *How long?*"
"Three years."
"No... that's not right," I protest, but my head is a thick fog. I can't think clearly.
"You were in a car accident."
"I don't remember... no - *wait.*" A few vague memories shake themselves free, like icicles falling from a cave roof. I was rich - I'd never had money before, but now I had more than I could ever have dreamed of. I was finally enjoying life. *But how did I get so much money?*
"I won the lottery," I say, as much to myself as to the nurse.
She bites her lip. "I'm glad you were having nice dreams, but..."
"No. It wasn't a dream. I *did* win it."
"I'm sorry, Mr Brown."
"Brown? My name's Manning. *Oliver Manning*."
The nurse turns away, as if looking for someone. When she looks back at me, there's an awkward smile on her face. "I know it's hard to believe - it's often like this when you've been in a long coma, but you're *Richard Brown.*
"That can't be right..."
"The doctor said you might forget some aspects of your identity. They'll return, soon." She lays a drivers license down on the bed.
"That's my face, but that's... not my name."
The nurse sighs. "Think you can use a laptop?"
I nod. "Yes. I think so."
She leaves me, returning shortly with a small computer under an arm.
"Can you sit up?" she asks. I can. She places the laptop gently onto my legs.
"You can search for the incident. Just type "Richard Brown car crash Minnesota, 2017. I'll leave you for a while."
I open Google as she walks out of the room. Then, I change my mind, and open up my bank's website. I *did* win - I know I did. I just need to see proof.
I type in my user ID and security details, and let out a long sigh of relief when the next screen loads. Oliver Manning: $17.6 million dollars.
The nurse returns to the room holding something small in her left hand.
"Did you find out everything you needed?" she asks, as she approaches me.
"Yes. I *did* win, thank God," I say, closing my eyes and smiling broadly. "I thought I was going insane."
"Yes, you did," she replies, as she pushes a syringe into my neck. "I knew you'd check your bank. You're a *very* greedy man."
"What are you-"
"You won all those millions, then you bought yourself a fast sports car - an Italian thing. You drove it recklessly. You drank. Then, you hit my husband. You were always going to hit somebody, but why him?"
My stomach fills with a new dread - a real dread. A certainty.
"You kept on driving, leaving him on the side of the road in a quickly growing pool of his own blood. You might have saved him, had you stopped and called for help. *I know you did it* - everyone knows - but your fancy lawyers got you off. He left me and our three children all alone. They have no father now, just a working nurse, to support them."
"I'm... *so sorry*."
"Took me some time get the opportunity to do this. To set this room up as nicely as I have - although I've always been one for minimalism."
"I'm sorry," I mumble, my tongue heavy. "Truly"
"You took everything from me. Now I'm going to take *everything* from you."
I begin to feel dizzy and my mouth is so, so dry.
"Did he give you the money yet, mommy?" asks a high pitched voice. I see a small, hazy silhouette enter the room.
"Yes darling."
"Is he dead yet?"
"Shortly, sweetheart."
"Good."
---
Thanks for reading! Plenty more stories on my sub: /r/nickofnight
(free ascii rose for all new subs --------{---(@ )
| A tremendous headache like my brain trying to exit my head made me open my eyes. At first, I couldn't focus my sight, everything was distorted, soon I realized I had cables attached all over my body. Suddenly, a weird moving lump transformed into a nurse. "What is happening?" I tried to say out loud yet I could barely talk.
"Mr Johnson, do you remember your first name?" The nurse asked me as she watched a monitor with many numbers that I didn't understand.
"Where am I?" I tried to scream yet my voice once again was barely understandable. "Where am I?" I repeated, this time I managed to make it sound clearer, my head was killing me.
"Stay calm Mr Johnson, you were in a coma for a month. I know that you have many questions but I need you to answer some questions to check if your brain has any damage." She said as she looked straight into my awful bloody eyes with her beautiful, almost healing light-green eyes. "What's your first name?".
I looked into the depths of my brain yet I had an acutely hard time to remember it. "Robert, my name is Robert." I said after 20 seconds. "Did I win the lottery or it was just a dream?" I asked, desperately. My voice was normal now.
The nurse ignored my question and with grabbed a little lantern. "I will check your eyes now, stay relaxed." She said as her fingers stretched open my eyelids while her other hand flashed my eyes with the small instrument. "Your reflexes are fine, that's good news," a smile drew in her face. "Okay, I'll do a pressure check and I will call another doctor that will evaluate your cognition."
I nodded as she turned around looking for the tensiometer. I couldn't keep my eyes off her strawberry shock hair, it fell down all the way to her waist and it's curls waved in a romantic, enthralling motion.
"You're perfect, the doctor is on his way. I'm really glad you woke up" She said as she left the room.
Another doctor entered the room immediately, his height was comical, for a moment I thought it was Danny Devito.
"Mr. Johnson, glad to see you awake and well, my name is Dr. Teriz and I'm a neurologist. I'll ask you three questions."
I nodded with a smirk.
"What's the last thing you remember?" He asked as he took a pen and a paper from his front pocket.
"I'm not sure if it was a dream or not but I had won the lottery and I went to sleep."
He wrote something. "Okay, what's the name of your pet?"
"Yiru, is he fine?" I asked with anguish invading my chest.
"He's with your mother, he's perfect. Whats the result of 144/12?"
"12." I answered Immediately.
"Okay Mr Johnson, your brain miraculously seems to be in perfect conditions," he said, almost startled. "Feel free to ask me anything."
"Did I get fat?" I joked, his face transformed, he took a quick, deep breath and grabbed the pen and paper. "Relax, I'm joking. What happened?"
"Oh, I got scared for a second there. You did win the lottery but that night five burglars broke into your house. One had a bat the others were armed, the one with the bat hit you twice with full force in the head while you were sleeping. It's a miracle that you are alive and it's even more astonishing that you don't have any aftermath."
I frowned. "But, the money was in the bank, not in my house."
"Exactly, the other four guys killed the one that hit you, the police believe they wanted to take you to the bank and force you to transfer the money but your attacker went straight to hit you, he didn't even search the house. Seemed personal, an extremely rare failed crime."
I won't lie, a smile stretched my wrinkles all the way to the sides of my ears. I was alive and still a millionaire. "Can I make you one last question and ask you for a favour?"
"Yes, anything Mr Johnson."
"Is the nurse single?"
"Jade? Yes she is." We both laughed in camaraderie.
"Could you please mak-"
"Don't even finish that sentence, I'll make sure that she checks on you as much as she can. The rest is up to you."
We both smiled again. My new life awaited.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you enjoyed it please consider checking /r/chasisoxidado for more! | 2017-06-06T08:32:36 | 2017-06-06T06:33:04 | 3,933 | 317 |
[WP] What’s worse than a mad scientist? A well-meaning scientist that has no comprehension what social upheaval their inventions will inflict on society. As the city’s superhero, it inevitably falls on you to explain, every time, to this socially oblivious genius what’s gone wrong and why. | When the phone buzzed, I knew 'Calamity' had struck again. The name was beginning to worm its way into my head. Had to fight that urge. I let the phone vibrate as I got out of bed, put on my housecoat, and dropped the buzzing phone into the oversized pocket.
I shuffled to my living room, where floor-to-ceiling windows gave a view over downtown Galloran. I didn't need to turn on the news to see that something had gone wrong. Drones were zipping around the highrises, traffic had come to a standstill in the streets below and a ways away from my neighbourhood. I answered the phone.
"Uplift?" came Mark Lowell's voice. Very serious, always serious.
"Commissioner, for the love of God, please just call me Jennifer. Not many people see me as human."
"Official policy is that it would compromise your identity, ma'am."
"Everyone knows who I am, Mark. But that means also that nobody really sees me."
As the words came out of my mouth, I realized I sounded tired. Not sleepy, just tired. The commissioner paused for a second.
"Okay," he said quietly, "Jennifer. He's at it again. The entire Scallborough district is down. As best as we can tell, the drones are doing something that makes everybody experience the feelings of everybody else. It shuts down for a bit, then starts up again. I'd guess the only way to keep people safe from it is a lead bunker or to remove them from the range of the drones, about half a kilometer."
"I'll take care of him."
I hung up and set the phone on the cabinet. I switched my housecoat for my 'hero' jacket, and ascended the stairs that led to the helipad, above. I sighed, as I wondered what he was up to now. That was all the strength my mind had, the energy left to ask the question, but not to think of an answer.
I opened the door and received a blast of cold air to the face for my efforts. That woke me up some. I tried to recall our last conversation, in case he had mentioned something. After the last disastrous experiment, I had warned him to think small. Little things that could only help. That advice had brought me a month of peace. I peered off the edge of the building, and took a deep breath.
I jumped, and as the windows flashed past I gradually feuled the thrusters built into my robotic legs. Had to remember to stay away from the drones, else I'd be as useless as everybody else. I flew to a garage not too far from my luxury condo, but in a worse part of town. I landed and, while running, flipped the quick-change feature on my jacket. *Don't get followed, don't get recognized.*
I hopped onto an old gas motorcycle and activated my built-in EMP. The upside, no bugs or cameras could trace me as I drove into the tunnel network beneath the city; the downside, I returned to a state where my robotic legs did not work at all, let alone grant me superhuman abilities.
The path through the various cement pillars and massive pipes had become second-nature and uninteresting to me. A flash of light let me know the subway was coming and was followed shortly after by the rumbling and screeching on the tracks. I was nearly there, but my mind was in the past, when he had built me new legs. When he had been the kind to think small, and everything had been helpful. Although I suppose, I could have turned out just as badly as some of his other 'experiments.'
I hurtled through the false wall and parked in my usual spot. I left my EMP on. Paranoid, but people knew who I was and were asking questions lately as to why I was the only one who could deal with 'Calamity.'
I lifted myself into the old wheelchair, and entered the barrier free facility. That is, barrier free if you could get in and were an approved individual. He opened the door as I arrived. As per usual, he was looking well. He had a sort of robotic fitness and nutrition regimen, didn't understand why he didn't like doing that regimen, and "ignored his aversion to it's physical unpleasantries," in his own words.
"Jenn..."
He had known I was coming. Neither of us liked these kinds of visits.
"I tried to dial it back," he pleaded, "the signal kept getting stuck in feedback loops, I think they're getting confused about what's happening, and getting scared and then that's all they feel."
"Kill it."
"I thought, empathy was the trick, just if they could know what everybody felt..."
"Just kill it."
"I already did. I'm sorry Jen. I was good. My last four experiments were good, small, hidden through the appropriate regulatory bodies, like you said."
I said nothing. Letting his feverishness push out, not rebound. After a moment his hands fell, and he sat on the mantle of the door.
"I thought that, if we could all feel what everybody else felt, then people would have the motivation to make society better on their own. They'd stop hurting each other because that would just hurt themselves."
He sank his head between his knees.
I couldn't bear to see him like that. Some Calamity he was. I saw that name everywhere, but to me he would always be Matteus. Would always be my little brother.
"Matty, you've been doing well. Why don't we take a look at my legs again, the thrust felt a bit wonky on the way down today. Wanna wheel me in?"
He gave me a weak smile. And that smile let me know I had done my hero work for the day. | Ultraman walked into the laboratory of Professor Pragmatic (or Prof. Prag for short) and frowned as he looked around at all the complex and confusing machinery that filled the room. A vial of suspicious looking green ooze sat on one side of a desk while a boiling beaker of bright red oil sat on the other side. The professor looked up from his examination of the beaker’s contents and smiled upon seeing him.
“Ah, Ultraman! What brings you here today?”
“I heard you made a new invention?”
“Oh, so you’ve already heard! I couldn’t wait to show you this design and see what the leading authority on justice thought of this invention! It’s going to be perfect for fighting crime!”
“If it’s anything like the last weapon which stopped dangerous criminals from fleeing by using acid to dissolve their feet, I’m going to put you on another watchlist.”
“Relax, relax. I got the idea last time, no inventions that can hurt people. This next invention is completely unable to harm someone, I promise!” Ultraman was surprised. He’d come here so many times over technically legal inventions that 37 new laws and 12 new government watchlists had had to be created just for what he found here but finally the professor had created something that was supposedly harmless. If the professor’s genius was finally used in a good way it would make it all worth it.
The professor picked up a metal ring about 3X3 feet wide. A red light on the side began to flash as he pressed a small button on the opposite side of the collar from the light.
“This invention will create perfect security for all jails. All those supervillains who keep escaping and attacking you over and over again will finally be kept in prison as they should be. This is my total mind-control collar, patent pending.”
“Hell no.”
“What!? Why?! The process is completely harmless! No more prison riots injuring wardens and guards! In fact, the amount of guards could be halved! Think about how much that would save the private corporation that owns the prison!”
“Just NO. Why do I have to explain the problem here? You never cease to amaze me.”
“Of course I don’t! I keep making these brilliant inventions! Let me demonstrate!”
“NO GET THAT THING AWAY FROM M-“
The professor dropped the ring over Ultraman’s head and it shrunk to fit smoothly around his neck. Ultraman felt woozy as his higher brain functions began to shut down. He couldn’t remember anything past half an hour ago. What was two plus two...?
“Hello, I know you can hear me! Isn’t it comfortable? I put a cushion on the inside to prevent anyone from getting sore, just in case you’d count that as hurting others. Now, the important part. Let’s see... do a handstand on one hand.”
In a moment of clarity, Ultraman flipped himself up in the air and held himself up on one hand without a moment’s hesitation before his brain shut off again.
“Good! Can you do it on one finger?”
Ultraman shifted to holding his entire body up with just his pinkie finger.
“Wow. You really do have super strength. Okay, I’ll take it off.”
The professor pushed the button at the back of the collar and released it from Ultraman’s neck. Ultraman fell to his knees, gasping.
“That was... the worst thing I have ever experienced.”
“But it worked!”
“No. I’m done with this.”
Ultraman pulled a button out of his pocket and pressed it. Every window in the lab shattered and the door bust down as CIA agents burst in from every direction. At least ten had guns aimed at Pragmatic as the rest began to confiscate his shady tech.
“Wait!!! Technically there isn’t a law against mind control, and I haven’t broken any other laws! You can’t do this!”
The CIA agents paused and looked at each other. He was technically right, and they weren’t sure what to do. That’s when Ultraman grinned, rose to his feet, and spoke.
“When I walked into the lab you were so excited to show off your invention that you left a boiling chemical on its own. That serious OSHA violation could cost you $12,000.”
“Wha-!? But you never let me sell my inventions and I pushed everything I had left into this masterpiece, I can’t-“
“Can’t pay? Then I guess you’re going to jail.”
CIA agents dragged Professor Pragmatic away as he moaned about moral hypocrisy and how he was so close to retirement. Ultraman turned to the CIA captain.
“God, you can’t imagine how good it feels to know I won’t have to have nightmares about the dystopian shit that’s being cooked up somewhere out there.”
“Uh... you do know we’re going to end up faking his death and turning him into a military weapons manufacturer, right? I mean, this is the US...”
“Fuck you.”
“Understandable.” | 2021-04-22T00:02:00 | 2021-04-21T23:50:17 | 139 | 102 |
[WP] Imagine a world where if you said "literally" it literally happened
Serious or humorous, it will literally happen. | You wake up.
You turn over.
You know your wife is still next to you because you can smell the cheap perfume she always wears. The box insists that the perfume is inspired by fresh citrus and summer, but to you it smells like the chemicals they layer over the dirty carpets at your office to produce some semblance of cleanliness. She's breathing heavily as little domes of sweat form on her forehead. With the creation of each one of these tiny worlds, the scent of her perfume is amplified. It becomes overwhelming and you struggle not to say anything.
You rise.
You rise like you do every day. You will go to work where the carpets will smell like your wife's cheap perfume. You will find once again that the coffee has become tainted by the cleaning chemicals and is undrinkable.
"Baby, are you awake?" You mumble to your wife, hoping that she won't respond.
"Yeah," she crackles through the ragged skin of her chapped lips, "what is it?"
"Would you mind not wearing that perfume today?"
She doesn't respond and for a sacred moment you think she has gone back to sleep and will remember your exchange as only a dream.
After a long sigh, a response comes roaring out of your wife's mouth, "God, Jim, I'll wear my perfume if I fucking want to. You are literally Hitler sometimes!"
It burns as the sweat and spit splatter across your face, "Nein." You whisper. | "And so I was like 'Get your shit together, Maggie,'" said Elizabeth Clark with an upturned nose. "She literally died from embarrassment. At this rate there's no *way* she's gonna make it into Chi Omega. I felt kinda bad, but it's what she needed to hear." As they walked into the local frozen yogurt shop, Elizabeth's friends nodded in approval, and before long they were delving into more of the latest gossip from around campus.
Five miles away at the university's main library, Maggie Fitzpatrick slumped over in her seat, dead. | 2013-08-22T12:32:51 | 2013-08-22T12:29:44 | 30 | 13 |
[WP] Your father leaves the house to buy milk, 50 years later he comes back with milk in hand and hasn't aged a bit. | I thought I would be prepared, the same way an electrician would know to change his own lightbulbs. After all, I had turned this from a hobby into... a profession of sorts. And that's not even counting the space of 50 years, that yawning gap of time since Dad left. That's a long time for memories to dull, for emotions to temper.
In truth, the tears still flowed freely and uncontrollably. Dad looked just like how I had always remembered him.
"Are you... Martin?" he said. There was a wild panic seizing him, and for a second I worried he would drop the groceries right there on the porch. "Jesus, you... look just like my boy. What the hell is happening... I just... everything is different..."
I refrained from hugging him, and instead guided him to the hall, made him take a seat. I clasped his hands in mine, and marvelled at how real they felt.
"Thank you for trying, Prunae," I said, using the formal honorific they preferred. "But I'm alright, I really am."
"What are you talking about? Where's your mother? Is she still-"
"Please, you're doing more harm than good at this point. I would like you to leave, please."
Dad started to protest again, but he evidently thought twice, then grimaced. With a sigh, he snapped his fingers, and the glamour began to fall away, the same way a candle's armour of wax yields to the wick's flame.
I had never witnessed this before. Not directly, like this, not even after I've helped more than two hundred families try to locate their missing family members. It had started as a way to cope, a mere distraction, a single person's efforts to help others track their family down, when law enforcement could assist no further.
And that's when I started to encounter the Prunae.
It's hard to say with certainty what they are. I have neither the training to scientifically classify them, nor the ambition to. The closest analog I found in my research were 'tree spirits', free-form entities, capricious, unpredictable, but ultimately benign. They shied away from humans most of the time, but when the opportunity presented itself, they would appear, seek to befriend humans in need.
Some clients had hired me to make sure that their returning loved ones were real, not con men poised to inherit. Others simply wanted me to help them come to terms with it, an independent third party to reinforce their beliefs. After all, the Prunae were always careful that their existences were not revealed to the larger population.
What remained of Dad now was like... a mass of fireflies, dimmer, but still emitting a cool luminance that reminded me of dying embers.
"You sure you'll be OK, Martin?" it said, directly into my mind.
"I will be," I said. "I've had some time to learn to grow and to do well without him. I have a family of my own now."
"Would you like to know what happened to him?"
"No," I said quickly, lest my determination flee me. There was a vacuum still in me, the space which Dad used to occupy, filled with questions never to be answered. But I was ok with that now. I was older, a little wiser. "I'm fine. Things will be fine, as they always have been."
The Prunae smiled, then faded before my eyes. It swirled up into the ceiling like the smoke of memories, rising in twirling ribbons.
I sat there for a while longer. Then, I picked up the phone, spoke to Anna first, then called my children, one after the other. I didn't want to alarm them, but I did want to hear from them.
I thought too about how those client of mine who saw the Prunae never lived long after that. They left this world in different ways, some violently, most peacefully. For a while I had worried that the Prunae were malevolent, hostile harbingers of death, here to tease and torment before it all ended.
Now though, after an encounter of my own, it seemed far more likely that they were merely here to help tie off loose ends, as it were.
"Thank you," I said, to the empty hall.
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| My dad was the best. Ever since I was young he would always wake up before me and make breakfast. On top of that he and I would always go on adventures like hiking and camping, and when I was old enough skydiving and mountaineer.
He'd always carry around this small flask and he would never talk about it. I used to ask him what was in it but he'd always avoid the question. I usually dropped it there since he never acted like an alcoholic or anything after drinking it.
One day I woke up early, before him and I decided to grab something to drink from the fridge. We had a huge fridge and I would always grab the first thing to drink I saw. Strangely enough nothing caught my eye, nothing except a panel that looked slightly out of place. I tried to snap it back in but it ended up revealing a hidden section of the fridge. In the section there was one half gallon of...what looked like milk. I thought this was strange so I pulled it out to get a better look.
As I pulled it out of the fridge and was about to read the label my father jumps out to surprise/scare me. I jumped and threw the carton up in the air. His face went from laughter to horror in a split second. The carton hit the floor and spilt everywhere. I looked up at my dad and he looked as if, I just did something terrible.
I looked at him and tried to break the stare by saying "Hey...don't cry over spilt milk right?" He just walked over to the carton picked it up and walk away. Standing in the milk soaked kitchen, I heard him open up the foyer closet. "Dad?" Then I heard him grab the keys. "Dad!?" I ran out to see him halfway out the front door and then have it slammed shut in my face...that was 50 years ago on this day...
I'm 67 now. In these 50 years I've finished school, graduated college and am married and have kids. We live in a quiet part of town and I managed to repurchase the house I grew up in. I never changed the locks in case he'd ever come back. Then I heard the door handle rattle, then the lock turn. It was 2:10 p.m. the kids are at school and my wife is at work. "Who can it be now?" I asked myself as a saxophone echoed in my head. The door opens and...it's...it's my dad! But...
He should be 87 but he looks exactly the way he did on that morning, except without a cowboy hat on. He had the same half carton in his hand, but this one wasn't spilled. I ran up to him and gave him a huge hug and nearly cried. "Dad! Where have you been?! What happened?" He silently stared at me. "Dad, I didn't mean to upset you 50 years ago. Why did you leave?!"
He just walked over and sat down on my couch placing the milk on the coffee table. Frustration welling up inside me I yelled "DAD, WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME!!!"
He sat there and simply motioned with his hand at the milk, and said "Try some boy, and have your friends try some also."
"What are you talking about?"
He pointed directly at the carton in an exaggerated fashion. "Here's some Nilbog Milk, special milk, high in vitamin *EHHHH*"
"Wha-"
He recovered from his sneeze "High in vitamin content."
Edit: Grammar and punctuation. | 2017-11-19T16:19:42 | 2017-11-19T16:15:34 | 2,866 | 19 |
[WP] “H-How are you alive?” the demon king ask shock. You only say one word “Spite.” | Making it to the underworld was no easy feat, but I had to do it. I had to defeat him. He thinks I'm dead. This is my only chance.
As I snuck my way back into the Demon King's den, I mumbled to myself. "Tch. He thinks he can defeat me that easily? Please. I defeated an entire army of his brainless minions all on my own. He's just as brainless as the rest of them anyways."
I make my way through the secret tunnels right outside his castle, which is pretty small by elven standards, but demon's are short, so I guess it makes sense. Well, except the Demon King anyway.
I move slowly and keep my eyes and ears peeled for any more of his useless drones. They wandered around here a lot because of me. I mean, I am presumed dead, but you can never be too sure. Many people want the demon king's head as a prize for their trophy rooms, but that isn't what I'm here for.
I'm here seeking revenge.
I finally made my way to the throne room without encountering any guards on my way, and I saw the man in question slumped lazily on his throne in his flimsy armor. I made sure to stay hidden behind a pillar and I knocked an arrow into my bow before letting it fly and hit one of his guards in the throat.
"Hey! Who's out there?" The only other guard in the room calls out, drawing his weapon. He's clearly scared. I can see him shaking all the way across the room.
I shook my head and knocked another arrow, this time sending it to the guard's chest. He fell to the ground and I watched as he crumpled in on himself.
The Demon King was especially alert. He held a shield in front of him, hoping to block anything that was coming his way as his eyes scanned the room. "Who are you? Reveal yourself at once!" He yelled out.
And so, I did.
His eyes widened and he drew his weapon as I came closer to him. "H-How are you even alive?" The demon king sputtered in obvious disbelief.
I glared at him, only muttering one word. "*Spite.*"
I mumbled a spell under my breath, one I had been practicing for this specific day, when I would finally get to defeat him. The man that destroyed my entire life.
He fell to his knees, groaning in immense pain as his weapon landed at his side and he clutched his chest. He coughed, choking on the dark inky blood that had surfaced. He chuckled. "Defeated by a mortal. Not how I expected to leave this world, but I suppose I deserve it. Just know that by defeating me, you will be the one to take on my role as ruler of the underworld."
My eyes widened as the life faded from his eyes and he fell to the cold floor. What? Was he serious? I looked at my hands, not sure if what I had heard was true.
But it had to be. I was sure I had heard that somewhere. This must be why my mentor discouraged me from continuing this fight. But I had to finish him... I had to. My mind went blank and I could only hear one thing ringing in my ears,
*What have I done?* | ¨HOW DO YOU LIVE?¨ boomed the demon lord seeming to have shrunken a few feet since i entered the room ¨spite¨i stated. ¨W-WHAT¨ he asked, much quieter now. ¨PURE. GOD DAMN. SPITE¨ i yelled back at the creature causing the behemoth to flinch. the battle had been long but as this conversation happened i was pulling my sword from the last of his guards. ¨The capitol wanted a show of your death, i feel a blow from your own horn should suffice.¨ i told it, the thing seemed to weak to be a demon lord, maybe it was still immature? whatever these things need to die before they get strong anyway. as i stomped up the large stone stairs i painted them a deep crimson with the blood from my wounds. the demon lord, no the *THING* cowered as i came to face it. i was tall for a human yet even this young demon lord towered over me, if it were standing that is. the thing tried to run making a plea as it leapt from the balcony ¨PLEASE N- ACK¨ its plea was cut short by a crossbows bolt piercing its chest. ¨your not long for this world are you?¨ i asked the thing as i decended the stairs again my foot falls growing heavy with exaustion ¨then again neither am i¨ i stated walking up to the creature, ugly things demon lords are, jagged spikes all over, obsidian black eyes, this one seemed to be lacking the main thing though, the two large horns on theyre heads this one seemed to only have one, mustve lost a battle long before i came here. as i ripped the remaining horn from its skull an idea came to mind, tearing its spines out and telling it of the people its killed, but it was too late it had died of shock soon after falling from the balcony. as i left the room i felt my foot falls grow to the weight of a minotaurs. i decided to rest in the corner of the room. as i drifted off i felt my heartbeat grow faint and my vision went dark before i removed my helm for the last time and painfully said those words my father loved ¨praise, the, sun¨
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
yes its a solair reference at the end its a fake society so sun worship could be a thing
also sorry if the ¨grim¨ feeling dont work it seems edgy on rereading but its 2 am, im tired and i want sleep | 2020-10-12T01:28:33 | 2020-10-12T00:28:39 | 60 | 11 |
[WP] You are kidnapped by a cult, and they are about to sacrifice you to their god. They don't know that you are that god. | "Anupta, Darkest Desire, accept our offering!" I heard, more than felt, Daniel's dagger strike down into my heart. Well, where my heart would be, if I had one. In any case, it was time to wrap this up.
With a minor effort of will, the straps binding me to the table burned and snapped, and I sat up. I took a second to work out the stiffness in my neck... nothing like being tied to a table for five hours to give you a wicked pain in the neck. Speaking of which, I had to talk to the boys about their choice of "altar". I looked up, and found them huddling in the corner, eyes wide and staring. To be honest, they weren't much as far as cults go, but these days beggars can't be choosers. Even if they couldn't seem to find matching vestments.
"Hey guys!" I chirped cheerfully. "I'm Anupta.". Ugh. There are no words for how inadequate we gods have become. Back in the good old days it was all fire and brimstone, wailing souls and damnation. Heck, the Atlantis gig was the greatest summoning since the dinosaurs. And now this; seven virgins trying to summon up a succubus goddess on their Friday night. And more embarrassing, they had nabbed me as their sacrifice. I had manifested in the world just for a breath of fresh air, maybe start an orgy or three, and my cult kidnapped me the first day. "Hey guys I just wanted to say that was pretty good. I'm kinda impressed, that whole part where you tied me down and inked the whole Ritual of Binding on my skin? Not bad at all." The boys seemed to lose their edge of panic, and allowed themselves to listen. "No, seriously, one of my best summonings in a while, just had a few pointers, If you don't mind..." I trailed off. Daniel, the leader, had taken a few cautious steps forward. "Mistress?," he whispered, eyes ridiculously wide, "have you come to our call?" He stared.
I glanced down to where he was staring. Besides the fact I was topless, which was always a winner when it came to distracting men, I had started leaking bubbling ichor from where the dagger protruded. I looked back up. "Yes, in fact, uh, I did." I managed to say. "I wanted to say that you guys are my number one cult. Seriously, the best." They all looked back and forth among each other, fear finally fading before pride. "Like I said though, a few pointers... first, I know times are hard, but sacrifices are supposed to be held on an altar?" All seven heads nodded up and down; I could have said anything then and they would have agreed. "Now you've got all the runes right, but honestly, this is a dining room table. It's not just the carvings that are necessary, but you've got to have an ambiance conducive to the spell. I mean, how many sacrifices have you performed? Four? Five?"
"Eighteen, mistress."
I paused. "What?". "Eighteen sacrifices were made till you manifested in that vessel, mistress." Daniel answered again.
Now, I'm a dark goddess of evil and seduction who enjoys a sacrifice as much as the next gal, but these jokers had sacrificed eighteen women and hadn't even put a ping on my radar. And by looking at their set up, I should have noticed something... tacky furniture and mismatched robes aside, the had all the fundamentals in place. If they weren't doing something wrong here...
"Hang on guys. I'll be back in a second." I started to discorporate my body to return to the Hellish Realms. "Don't go anywhere. Oh, oh oh oh! Almost forgot to ask. What were you guys summoning me for again? Whatever you drugged me with...drugged the sacrifice with," I managed to correct myself in time, "really did a number and I didn't catch that part." Daniel didn't hear at first, preoccupied as it were with the fact my body was half translucent and halfway reformed to my true shape. "We summoned you to be our Mistress, to discipline and pleasure us, and lead us in our dark crusade." I narrowed my eyes. "Well discuss that later." I managed to say, and then vanished. | I couldn't believe it had come down to this.
I wanted to create intelligent life. Instead, all I got was morons. Primitive sea monkeys practicing sacrifice and other ritualistic idiocies. The only thing funnier to me than this was that I was now the target of their simplicity. The victim of it.
I am their creator. I guess you could say I am their parent, but I never believed in traditional methods of conception anyway. So I prefer the term creator. It gives more credit to the science behind what I do, and sounds more dignified. Parents are proud of their children no matter what, but a creator of something is in it for themselves. They want to make something. They want to become God. I wanted to become God.
Now back to my diseased body. Grotesque and green from the pathogens they and I created. I say I am green because that's the only word to describe myself right now. My abdomen looks like a piece of celery. This disease was my grandchild. The creation of my creation. This must be how the parents of serial killers feel whe they see the corpses of the ones their sons or daughters killed, in the police station when they find out the news. Thats how it felt when I learned of their motive for all this. A sinking feeling. The feeling that what you had made is not at all in the image of what you intended.
Since they are so much smaller than me they needed to use pathogens for their little "sacrifice". At first I didn't know if it was my time spent hovering over the petri dish (which is now a tank) or I had contracted the mystery disease when taking my samples. Samples of life which I had to test, kill, then test again. I think they didn't like that too much after so many times, so they brought me a little gift. Atleast that's my theory. Scientists love theories.
Three months into my disease when I was still mobile, I developed a tool which would let me hear those tiny voices. And that's when I learned how wrong my theory was. Fucking theories. Fuck theories. Thats all I can think as I lay here dying.
I heard how primitive they were. Sacrifice, Gods, Deities and disaster. All tied into one idiot civilization. And I learned of the real reason they poisoned me too. Because they believed me to be tied to something called Valhalla. If they wanted me dead because I was the one responsible for killing so many of them, or because I was their warden, keeping them captive in the tank, the fine. I would be proud of my creations. The ingredients i used to make them incorporated much of the human genome so I expected they would parallel humans, but my research(theories)indicated it would be at a much accelerated and refined intelligence rate. I expected them to be over the gods and sacrfice phase in a month. I expected imrpovement and beauty. Instead what I got was minature reflections of all our greatest flaws. I started to cry.
I will be dead soon. And I couldn't be more displeased with the results. The pain is unbearable. I'm amazed such fools could create such a deadly disease to humans. It's the only thing I'm proud of in this whole ordeal, ironic and sickening as it was. When I was still healthy I heard them say the body will die before the mind and brain. All I feel is regret.
--------------------------------
I have never written anything like this before so please go easy on me. Always been curious so this is my attempt! Sorry for any grammar issues. | 2016-08-14T08:58:12 | 2016-08-14T08:52:22 | 48 | 17 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | "Save her!"
"Wha-?"
"I summoned you here to save her! Do it!"
On the table lay a woman with labored breath and covered in blood.
"I can't do it here. You'll have to send me back. I need an ER."
"I have an ear for you right here, demon!" The man jiggles his own bloody ear in his hand.
"No, I need an E... R... An emergency room you imbecile. Send us both back and she'll be healed."
"No. No I won't do it. I won't let you make her a demon like you. They never come back the same."
"Of course they don't. You can't take a bite of the apple of knowledge and stay ignorant."
"SAVE HER, DEMON!"
The man standing in an arcane circle wearing a long white robe and a strange creature about his neck sighs. "You are all fools. Damned fools." Then he clapped his hands and was gone. So was the woman.
For the next month, the young sorcerer wept. He had sold his love to a demon. Then, a loud clap and the sound of something solid bouncing on the floor pulled him out of his remorse. When he approached the strange object, he saw her smiling face. Then the object spoke...
"Hey Joe. Thanks for helping me. It's better here. People are happy. Their babies live past infancy, infections don't kill people, and there's much less war and violence. I've decided to stay with Dr. Hapburn. He's the man you summoned to save me. He's been kind to me and he is wealthier than our king! Good luck, Joe. I don't think I'll ever see you again."
Then the object went dark. Joe let out an anguished scream. "DAMN YOU DEMON!"
-------
"Welcome back, Dr. Hapburn!"
"Thanks Sally. We need to get this one to the ICU."
"We're on it doctor. Why doesn't Texas just join the Federation of Nations?"
"I don't know. King Norris won't let them. It's just good for us that the Global Processing Unit is available for teleportation requests."
"I hear the locals think people who talk to the GPU are sorcerers."
"Yes, that's true. Poor fools." | When I vanished from the middle of class, I didn't know where I was going. All I experienced was darkness and a rush of cool wind before I was deposited in a place that looked like the middle of a forest.
As my eyes adjusted to the level of sunlight, I saw a few humanoid creatures staring at me. They nudged one another and whispered in a guttural language. Finally, one took a few timid steps toward me and spoke. "O great demon of the underworld . . ."
I blinked. "What?"
The humanoid looked taken aback. "You're a demon. We summoned you." They held up a spellbook and pointed at the circle around me. "See?"
I looked around. "Um . . . Okay? What do you need, then?"
One of the humanoids in the back piped up. "There's a girl who keeps ruining our lives and we want you to scare her into not doing it anymore!"
My anger burned a little bit, which set a small fire around me. "What the hell," I whispered as I stomped it out. "And you think that she'll see you as more intimidating by doing sorcery?"
"Successful sorcery!" a third added.
I sighed. For my family, I would do this unwaveringly. For my friends, I would do it took. For these nerds? What do I have to lose? "Okay. Take me to this girl."
They led me toward a set of buildings and I played with the fire my hands generated to practice my new skill. | 2017-05-12T09:10:43 | 2017-05-12T08:32:17 | 43 | 10 |
[WP] A bored dragon kidnaps a princess, expecting some excitement and rescuers to fight. No one shows up and the princess doesn't know her way home. | "You know, I can eat you up and just be done with this."
"No, you won't." She said it with such faith. She was right though. Despite our reputation, I had no intention of harming her. All I wanted was a break from this monotony. Kidnapping princesses was the easiest way to do it.
I sighed and stared out at the horizon. One month has passed and not a single rescuer. Not a raiding party, not a knight, not even the king's army.
“So, are you going to send me back or what?” She poked at my feet with a twig. Of all the princesses I have kidnapped, she was one of the youngest. And probably one of the last. Not surprising, given what our kind did to hers.
Any other princess would have been terrified of me. They would usually cower in a corner and refuse to speak to me, no matter how much I told them that I was not going to harm them. I was not like my brothers. Then again, it did not really matter. We were judged as a whole.
I gave an annoyed puff at Hilda, I think that was her name, picked her up from the tower and placed her back on ground. I was looking forward to a battle, actually. I expected the humans to be more protective of their last few princesses. Seeing that no one turned up was quite the disappointment. It was hard to believe that I actually spent one month on a deserted tower with only a human as a company. I must have been getting desperate.
Hilda dusted off the dress that she was wearing, a new pink one that I had as part of my stash, and looked at me. “So, what are we waiting for?”
I raised an eyebrow. “For you to give me the directions to your home?”
She frowned. “But I thought you were supposed to know. After all, you’re the one who grabbed me from my carriage.”
She was right. I did attack her group while she was traveling. I tried to remember the place that I took her from. “Erm, is your father the king of Lyrendell?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“Thrian?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Goodren Lands?”
“What is that?”
Darn humans and all their kingdoms. “What do you remember your home as? Do you live in a castle?”
“All princesses live in a castle. What are you talking about?”
“But what kind of castle?” I growled. This was not as easy as I thought it would be. All I wanted was to return her and go for a deep, long sleep.
Hilda rolled her eyes at me. “Like any normal castle?”
“What is it made of?”
“Bricks, duh.”
“And the colour?”
“Bricks colour? Gosh you’re so difficult,” she loudly exclaimed and began to stomp off.
I watched her walk away, the breeze gently brushing against her hair. I thought of the previous one month that I spent with her. Entertaining princesses and keeping them happy was not an easy job. I thought of all the scolding that I endured just so I could kill some soldiers and toy with egotistical knights, all of which never happened in the end.
Maybe my brothers were right. I roared, flew around Hilda and gobbled up her whole. I hoped that the other human kingdoms would still have princesses around for me to entertain myself when I wake up from my long sleep.
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/r/dori_tales | I look at the young girl standing in from of me. Her fiery red hair matted and tangled. Anger rose up in her ocean eyes as she looked up at me. She's holding a broken scale in her right hand. The blue sheen worn away, the sharp point pointed at me in a pathetic attempt to be used as a weapon. "Take me home" she demands. Her voice is worn and raspy from her pleas for help as I stole her away from her palace. The once elegant violet ballgown was now torn at the front of her skirt revealing long pale legs. Her attempt at intimidation made me laugh. My laughter shook the entirety of my cave. Taking her may have been a mistake. I must admit the kid had spunk. "Why do you laugh, Beast? Do you know who I am? My father will send for me, you can't keep me here forever." She spoke as if she genuinely believed she could strike fear into my heart.
"Child, do not speak to me with such contempt. Your people know not of me. I am as old as time. I am not shaken by a little girl." My words angered her further and she leaped forward, and drove the scale toward my claw. The scale broke under the pressure, shattering both the scale and the last ounce of fight the girl had left in her. There was never any real hope of escaping me. We were both aware of that. I am done for the night. I wish for nothing more than slumber.
"You may as well rest you foolish girl. You can amongst the stones on the far left side of the cave. I'll stay out of your way and you can stay out of mine. If your people wish to come rescue you, I will hand you over without any protest. Sleep, you'll need it." I began to move. My steps shaking the ground with ever move I made. Sounds that compare to thunder made as I made my way to rest. Old bones cracking as I laid down. My eyes moved over to the small girl. Her eyes searching the room for a way out. Minutes seemed like hours as I watched her body sink in defeat. She slowly began to shuffle over to her temporary quarters. She laid down her small figure. I watched for some time as her stiffness settled and she fell into slumber. I don't know why I took her. Her people bragged of their bravery and I saw an opportunity to challenge it. Boredom was the main component in the idea if I am truthful. I will give them time to come for her, but if they don't, well, I hope se learns to like dragons. | 2018-03-23T01:32:50 | 2018-03-23T01:12:29 | 117 | 20 |
[WP] In Hell, everyone is assigned a partner. Satan picks them specifically to be the one person you could never, ever get along with. If the partners can become friends, both ascend to heaven. | “How did you die?”
The girl peered up at him through curious blue eyes. Despite the layers of dust that caked our clothes and smoke that tore our lungs, this girl glowed with something other-wordly. Her blonde hair, raggy as it was, flowed in innocent waves to her shoulders. She did not smile.There was no reason to, where they were. And yet he knew that if she did, she would be the type to put the full force of her being into that smile. A smile so contagious and uplifting, that anyone within close enough range to see it twinkling in her eyes, could not help but smile with her.
He wished she would smile. He had not seen a smile in twenty years, not since the day his son was born. From that day forward, his life had not been graced with many smiles, only heartbreak. And her question; how had he died? The only question one asked where they were was, what did you do? People were only interested in the juicy bits, though he could expect nothing less. In his experience, everyone, even the most charitable, were self-interested. It was just a matter of who had more self-preservation and control. Very few were truly selfless, and where they were, nobody was. Everyone wanted to be the cruelest, the most frightening, the only way to cope with the misguided decision that landed them there. The few who felt remorse, felt it for themselves and the consequences they had to face.
In short, nobody cared how tragic or cruel your death was. All that was significant about you was the dark streak that brought you there. So when this girl asked him a question of such genuine curiosity, he was taken aback and almost forgotten how he had met his end.
“Eh, starvation I think? Or maybe it was an overdose in the end.”
The girl merely nodded, staring into the darkness, the screams from the pit bouncing off the walls of the cave. He had only ever thought about one part of his life, he dwelled on it for twenty-five years. His life after those years meant nothing. He had destroyed everything worthwhile he had in one decision. He couldn’t imagine this girl making a decision like his. Like everyone else around him, he wondered what she did, where her dark streak lay. It almost felt offensive to ask this girl a question of that nature. So instead, he followed her lead and asked a question he had never asked before;
“And you? How did you die?”
The girl turned to him and he felt the full force of her stare right down to the tips of his toes. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight on end. He shuddered from an intensity of feeling he had not experienced in a very long time. The girl seemed to consider him carefully before answering.
“I got hit by a car, a drunk driver.”
He jerked in response, a shot of burning pain piercing his heart, a slow wave of dread washing through his chest. The night that had cost him everything, his wife, his son, his life, consumed him in a paralysing flashback. The pain of losing a job he had sacrificed so much to get. The blurred events of a night down in his local, pettily drinking his sorrows into oblivion. Stumbling to his car, his head swimming and his ears ringing. Pushing the bouncers away gruffly. The crunch of one of their noses as he landed his fist in its place. The faint wail of a police siren in the distance as he practically fell into the drivers seat. And finally nothing as he passed out at the wheel, sending the car careening into a swingset on the front lawn of a fancy house. He was not conscious to hear the anguished cries of a man and woman as they barelled out of the house and toward their daughter who lay on the ground in front of his car. He did not hear them swear and scream and plea for it not to be real. He did not hear the ambulance arrive, nor did hear the police try to console the people who had lost what meant most to them. And it was a good thing he didn’t, for he didn’t think he could ever recover from the level of guilt it would trigger.
Once he was arrested he got the cold, factual report of what happened, as he remembered nothing. He had felt nothing as strong in his life as the remorse he felt after hearing what he had done. He accepted his sentence without a whisper, tried to apologise to the couple though he knew it would do no good. If he had died then he may not have ended up where he did. At that time he felt only the truest and purest remorse and only seeked forgiveness; from his wife, his son and the two strangers who were broken because of him.
After twenty-five years of nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company, he became self-centred, like most people do in their lives. He began to regret what he did for his own sake more than the girls, and her family’s. He thought of how he disgraced his own family and destroyed his own future. He thought of how he could have nothing now, he had taken everything away from himself. Eventually, on the street, cold and starving he could only anguish over what he had done to himself. And when he thought of the girl he had killed, he felt nothing.
While he was entranced in the one memory which now defined his life, the girl was watching him. She watched pain pale his face, curl his fists and cloud his eyes. She watched him hunch in on himself, curling up against the force of a remorse he no longer believed he felt. She saw all of this and believed in its truth. She gently put her finger under his chin and tilted his face so that he was looking her in the eye.
She smiled.
| ''*So, hi K.*'' I say to him. ''*Fuck me, is my punishment you?*''. I nod at K. ''*This is going to be really annoying, AO.*''. He sighs and looks upon the demon in charge and raises his hand. The demon beckons to him, curious to know what the little human wants. ''*So the only way to get rid of him it to become his friend?*'' K asks the demon, who simply rolls his eyes and points at the sign stating the rules of this portion of hell. True enough, it says that the only way to get out of here is to befriend your worst enemy.
''*So, AO, why did you hate me when we were alive?*'' K tries to come closer to befriending me. Build a bridge between us. ''*Simple. It is because you were an insufferable, self-righteous embarrassingly liberal git in life. Always asking dumb questions. Always sitting on your high horse, pretending that your so-called unyielding ethics was better suited to deal with the world rather than my ruthless pragmatism. Also, you never shave and you REALLY don't have a head, a face or a body for a beard. It makes you look like half a crazed pedophile, half a horny teenager.*'' K is taken back by my honest answer. Naturally I've been lying to K for the most of the time we've known each other, so that reaction might be rational. ''*Really? That is it? You hated me from high-school until the plane accident, because of a PHILOSOPHICAL DIFFERENCE? That is the weakest reason I've ever heard for hating someone, especially in the degree that we've been fighting! You constantly competed against me, seduced my girlfriend and impregnated her, sabotaged my promotion party and got my daughter drunk and had your face tattooed on her butt? For a philosophical difference?!!*'' he is fuming, I think it will take some time for us to get out of hell. ''*Well that and the beard, it makes you look like an idiot.*'' It is actually kind of funny to tease him like this again. Should have died sooner.
''*AO*'', ''*Yes, K?*'' It has been awhile down here, bickering and fighting against each other while the demons laugh relentlessly as they either humiliate us or torture us. ''*Why can't we just ignore our respective philosophies and get along?*'' He looks pleadingly at me, hoping to get some form of redeeming friendship growing in us. ''*I am unsure of what you are talking about K. I think we are getting along quite well and that we will soon get out of here.*'' He looks at me like I've just admitted to being his father. ''*What. We are fighting and bickering constantly? You smashed my skull the other day with a rock because you were annoyed. How are we friends?*'' his voice is cracking, is he about to cry? I never was good at reading those emotional signs. ''*Because you are one of the few people I can honestly say that I have respected. You never backed down from a challenge. In life you were endless positivity, always looking on the bright side of things, never giving in or up. It was the perfect foil to my pragmatic cynicism. I relish the challenge to meet you in argumentation, I find that every fight is a delight. And without you, I'd have given up. If I had nobody to counter or fight, I'd be bored out of my mind.*'' His jaw is practically touching the floor, I can't help but giggle slightly. ''*That is what constitutes friendship for you? A nemesis? Someone you can fight? AO, you are insane, that is not what friendship is about!*'' he yells his usual idealistic rant about the power of friendship and how magical it is. I swear he stole it from some kid-show, it's hilarious. I wait until he is done ranting and raving to speak: ''*And where would you be without me? In high school, you were known as a clever, but extraordinarily unmotivated student. Barely passing the grades, you had no direction nor any will. It wasn't until we started fighting that you truly begun to live. Had I not courted M, your wife, you'd stayed together with that worthless dropout girl, afraid of taking a chance. But once I tried to court the girl of your dreams, there you were, like a knight in fucking shining armor to save her from the evil dragon. It was exhilarating to see you succeed and see you fail. I needed you, and you needed me. Frankly K, I think you were the best friend I've ever had.*'' K can barely utter a word, I simply smile at my best nemesis and asks him which one of us will get to speak with the big guy upstairs first. | 2015-01-10T00:49:51 | 2015-01-09T15:30:59 | 80 | 19 |
[WP] You turn your Match Distance on tinder to "Anywhere". To your surprise you get a match that is 10^93 light years away. Thinking it was a joke you turn it off. 20 minutes later you turn it back on and it says they are 10^5 light years away and getting closer. | I pull out my phone again to show Tara.
"He's less than a light year away now and he hasn't even sent a message. What do I do?"
"Oh, he's cute!" She wasn't wrong, he was exactly my type: dark hair, brooding eyes, bad boy vibe. He looked like Marlon Brando circa a Streetcar Named Desire.
"Yeah, but so not the point here." I urge her.
"You don't usually go for the blonds." She says, "but you know, 1950's preppy boy is classically hot."
"Excuse me?" I ask her, "how is that even remotely close to blond!"
"You're crazy!" She holds the phone so we can both see it and points. "This is totally blond."
A weird thing happens at that moment. The picture splits itself into two images, half blond hair half dark, half soulful eyes half wide eyes, half wearing a leather jacket and half a letterman jacket. Underneath it all it was the same basic guy, the same basic face. Tara and I look to each other, speechless.
We hear some dogs from the neighborhood barking. It's midday so it's probably the mailman, that's the only thing that causes such a mass ruckus among dogs.
Tara recovers first. She turns the phone off and states, "I need a drink."
I follow her through our little shared house to the kitchen. She grabs a bottle of wine and opens it. I find two clean glasses and hand them to her. Tara shakes her head and opens me another full bottle of wine.
There's a knock at the door.
Tara panics, "that could only be him, how does he know where we live, oh my god, oh my god don't answer it whatever you do."
"Relax, girl." I try to keep myself calm. "It's probably just the mail, I ordered something from etsy a little while ago. He probably just needs me to sign it."
I go to the door and look through the peep hole. "Tara." I try to sound calm. "Tara, you were right, it's him."
She joins me and takes a look herself. "He brought flowers! What a gentleman."
"Girl, you have the attention span of a goldfish."
"Well he's here now," she says, "you might as well open it."
"Okay." I take a deep breath, then open the door.
"Jill," he speaks quickly and in a weird foreign accent. " I believe it is customary that I bring you the offering of the native vegetation's sex organs to demonstrate my intention of breeding with you."
For a moment I'm stunned. Than I laugh. "Yes, I suppose that's one way to put it."
"I will now offer you a ride in my vehicle to accompany me for a meal as proof that I can provide meals for you and our future family."
Again, I laugh.
"I do not understand," he says, "I am being sincere in my intentions, why do you laugh?"
"Most men just follow the, um 'customs' without thinking about where they come from. It sounds a bit ridiculous when I hear all the reasoning out loud. You don't have to be that formal," I explain.
"Oh thank Grok," he says. He drops the flowers and his appearance changes. The same basic features behind it all. He has a slightly blueish hue to his skin, his hair is pure white, and his eyes resemble a cat's.
"Hi," I say as I look into his eyes.
"Hi," he counters, unblinking. "I'm taking you to my planet now."
He scoops me up off my feet and carries me to the rather large space ship parked across the entire street. All the while we never break eye contact. | Have you ever chickened out on an opportunity, out of pure, craven, abject fear, certain to live a life of regret over missing out... and then, in hindsight, are glad you did?
For me: many times. No credit to myself, though; I never learn. But Nina has been there so many times, pulling me back from the edge of the cliff, beyond which waited a Nigerian prince, or ground floor opportunity, or hot young thing that's just my type (read: combination of catnip, MDMA and kryptonite. Literally. OK, no, figuratively.)
And here was Nina again, sipping a sensible green tea, pouring cold water on the first promising Tinder match that had come along in who knows how long.
"Is that a real pic?"
"I did image search, nothing came up. But just... something about those eyes. That expression. Like maybe this one will cause a little trouble but not too much."
"So: at about 9:30, how far away?"
"10^93 light-years. At first I thought it was a bug. Or maybe she was on the sun."
"That's 93 million miles. A little bit closer."
I punched her shoulder. "Duh. I know. Most PMs were once engineers."
She laughed. "Way back in the day. So: how far away now?"
"10^5. Getting closer."
"More like jammed on the brakes. 10^93 minus 10^5 is basically 10^93. If she didn't slow down, she'd already be here, and we'd be vaporized."
"Oh shit. Relativistic weapon basically."
"Yeah. And there are a few other questions: how can GPS peg a location off-earth, and not even inside low earth orbit?"
I waved my hands; this was quite a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey... stuff. "Mayyybe the GPS sats are high-powered enough with spaceward antennas that pick up her location. But it would take 10^186 years for that signal to return."
Nina nodded. "And, since 10^93 ly is about the diameter of the observable universe, that means that unless we're on the other edge, she's coming in from outside." She considered this. "And that's not your biggest concern."
"What is?"
"As you approach the speed of light, your relativistic mass increases. To infinity. Meaning, she's probably a lot heavier in real life than her picture."
The grin drained from my face as I swiped left. "Nina, you've always got my back."
"I don't know why." She sipped her tea and arched a single eyebrow. You know, if I could only find someone like her: cute, smart, just the right amount of sarcastic, and pragmatic as hell... that would be a good match. And she was about 10^-17 light years distant. But this mutual friendzoning was another one of her admittedly good ideas. I put the phone away and looked for something good on TV. | 2016-12-23T09:52:21 | 2016-12-23T09:05:39 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] Pacifist aliens, incapable of aggression, are being slaughtered by their rivals. To save themselves from annihilation they turn to the universes most violent species, humans. | I whistle to myself to deal with the discomfort. I'm strapped into my micro-fission cell powered combat armor and sealed in a reinforced titanium alloy torpedo filled with anti-g ballistic gelatin plunging through an alien atmosphere at a ridiculous velocity. Outside, the shell of ablative ceramic is heating up to near 4000 degrees centigrade, but inside my suit I'm a bit cold from the chilled water being pumped through my thermals.
I have a bit of time before the shell will crack open and dump me into the atmosphere for God's own hellish automated low altitude drogue chute entry. If the chutes fail, I'll get a few seconds to ponder mortality before the impact renders me into jelly in the suit. As Technical Specialist Reyes would point out, just because an Orbital Entry Marine gets jellied there's no reason not to reuse the suit. Jolly chick, Reyes is.
I wonder if they know what's coming to meet them. The Saarm, I mean. That's the name that the Others gave them. We have no idea what they call themselves. They're some kind of vaguely insectoid looking (but independently evolved, of course) creature that live, work, and acts in giant hirde-like packs.
They came out of nowhere and descended on the worlds of the Others in massive, inconceivable numbers. Millions pouring out of drop ships, racing into the glittering spire cities of the Others.
There are billions and billions of planets in the galaxy. Everything that any species could possibly need for life, expansion, happiness can all be found all over the galaxy. There's no need for violence, no need to fight for resources. So, the Others had lived and grown for hundreds of thousands of years. Violence was foreign to them after all this time. They expanded to thousands of worlds in peace. They developed art and culture to extents that a guy like me, well I'll never appreciate even a millionth of a percent of their achievements.
Then the Saarm came. Worlds burned. Worlds burned for no reason other than a delight in destruction, a predatory glee in murder and destruction. Trillions dead. Trillions.
I can hear the descent monitor pinging in my ear, and my HUD is flickering, trying to compensate for the burning ablation all around the capsule. Won't be long now.
The Others knew about us. They'd watched us take our first primitive steps. They watched us bash each other's brains in over grains of rice. They were horrified. They set up artificial intelligences to monitor us, but not to contact us. They gave us tons of room to grow in, setting a 500 light year minimum distance between us and them. The intelligences reported back over the years. Humanity grew and prospered. We also polluted our own world and killed each other for pocket change. We developed art and literature, and we bred serial killers. In all their explorations, they had never encountered a species like ours. Best I can guess, they watched us develop with the same horrid fascination as you or I would watch a body hit pavement from 20 stories up.
"Blue Team 7, squads 1 through 10, report in." My bone implants echoed Lieutenant Markley's crisp tones throughout my artificially reinforced skull. I glanced at the upper left corner of my HUD and blinked. I heard my voice echo back my call-sign. "Blue Team 7, Squad 4, Yomaya"
"Yo, Mayo! Let's GIT SOME." I heard back from Esquivel.
"Keep this channel clear, Squirrel. I'll gut you myself." That was Markley's subaltern Porea. Ass kisser.
After the first few dozen idyllic garden worlds of the Others were raped and murdered into silence, they tried talking to their other acquaintances among the known species of the galaxy, but the Saarm were a monster that no one wanted anything to do with, and the Others were left to fend for themselves. So, with horror and fear, they came to us.
Mind you, no human has ever met an Other. They've purged all broadcasts, all media, all video of any image of them. They masked out the background star fields. They \*really\* don't want us to know where their core home worlds are. They evacuated all the worlds in the path of the Saarm and came direct to us.
On a day like any other day the sky opens up and a gigantic automated ship appears orbiting over the middle of the pacific. So much for wondering if aliens exist. Bam, there they were. Immediately they explain their plight and offer a deal.
The single use retro firing Musky on my torpedo begins firing, the deceleration hits me in the gut like a fist. My brain tries to shut down, but the advanced microcircuitry in my skull keeps me awake. It's really starting to hurt.
The deal they offered was straight ahead. Our world was \*also\* in the path of the Saarm apparently. Fight the Saarm as proxy mercenaries for the Others, and we could have it all. Faster than light travel, molecular level medicine, life extension, rejuvenation, body sculpting, cybernetic implants, working fusion designs, micro-fission cells, room temperature superconductors, high density batteries, all of it.
They only held a few things back. We don't get to make our own AI, we don't get to meet them, we don't get their version of FTL, we get a slow one.
But hell, what would you do? We made the deal. Volunteers only. The best of the best. We have to be tested, our aptitude and stability measured by the AIs. They don't want the individuals that \*humans\* would consider psychopaths out among the stars... since in their view we're already a race of murderous psychopaths.
The ballistic jelly begins to vent out of the descent torpedo, and I feel the Musky shut down and then the drogue deploys right on schedule. Ever since we got the Other-AIs to help design our automation, systems are a lot more reliable these days. Reyes would be pissed if I jellied up my armor.
The sides of the torpedo peel away and I get a couple of seconds of a glorious view. I mean it's glorious if you're a certifiable basket case Orbital Jump Marine.
In the distance I can see the rising mushroom clouds from our initial nuclear bombardment of the Saarm suspected gathering points. The atmosphere is turning a pearly purple as the dust of hundreds of megatons of nuclear fire explodes into the atmosphere. It's beautiful. All around me as far as I can see, Hellcutter missiles are softening up the ground below us. Marines in camouflaged or stealth armor suits are falling out of the sky at a brutal pace. It makes pictures of D-Day from oh so long ago look like a cluster of kids out for a game of tag.
Hundreds of fully automated frigate sized gun platforms are hammering the ground with orbital railgun fire. In some places mini-volcanoes are spewing molten material from the impacts.
The Saarm are a horde based ultra predator. Their prey ships host hundreds of thousands of them, and they attack and attack and attack. Thy use their claws, their grasping mandible like mouths, and they possess automatic weapons to use against their enemies...
They sure as fuck don't stand a chance against us. We're about to show them the difference between predation and war. Poor bastards. | There was no escape from them. My ship's hyper drive was completely fried, and with one precise shot, they took out my engine and control panel.
All i could do was prepare for crash landing as my ship spun out of control toward that bright blue planet. The heat, the shaking, the smoke that filled the small cockpit was too much to handle. All i could do was curl up tight into a protective ball. The last thing i saw before i hid my face under my shell was the balls of gas disappearing behind the hemisphere of the planet.
The impact made my ears bleed. The ship flipped once, twice, before it hit something so hard, i was sent flying out through the glass. I only bounced once then went came rolling to a stop. Thankfully i wasn't going at mach 2 speed, so all i got was a sore shell.
A few tense moments passed. I didn't dare move in case something came upon me and wanted me as a snack. but after hearing nothing, i slowly unrolled myself and rubbed the back of my shell before taking in my surroundings.
Even though everything was dark, i could make out all sorts of shapes. I think...yes, this is a forest. but the trees were so small. Yes they dwarfed my easily, but these were nothing like my home planet.
...my planet....the planet that was currently being ravaged by those...those...
A light flickered in the sky, catching my attention. I looked up in time to see one of their small round ships falling from space and towards the wreckage of the ship.
The only thought that i could manage in my panic was to run. So i did. I scrambled to my feet and bolted for the thicker shrubbery when the ships landed with a barely audible hiss. I didn't stop until i found a clearing, and only then did i skid to a stop.
A clearing. that would be suicidal for me to run into. I had to find a hiding place. I looked up at the trees. But no matter how hard i looked, i only found a few hollows, none of them big enough to fit me. My only chance then was...
I crouched down and began digging. Every handful of dirt went spraying through the air as i frantically tried to dig. The dirt here was tough, but not tough enough for my nails.
I got four scoops through, enough to make a decent size ditch, when i heard a noise from behind. A growing, sniffing like noise. My blood went ice cold. I didn't dare turn around. I knew exactly what was behind me.I didn't need to though. I felt its hot breath on the back of my shell that sent chills under my shell. Its rancid breath made my stomach heave. But most of all, i felt its saliva drip on my neck.
Strangely, a sort of calm washed over me then. I knew i should be screaming, begging for my life no matter the cost. But all that crossed my mind was "Ahh. I'm done now. I don't have to suffer anymore."
I heard its jaw crack as it opened its maw wide, no doubt to swallow me whole. I shut my eyes.
A loud noise pierced through the air, followed by a loud squeal from behind me. The noise snapped me out of my calm, allowing a wash of fear and panic to slam into me. I scrambled up and turned in time to see the large furred body hit the ground in a heap, un-moving.
One shot, and it was down, Just like that. But what kind of creature had that kind of power?
"What the fuck was that, Pa?" A voice from the clearing echoed in the distance. On instinct i leaped for the shadow of a tree and peered past the trunk.
Two figures were walking towards me. I had never seen creatures like these before. As they got closer, i grew more and more confused.
no fur on their skin except for the larger figure, who had fur covering his chin. Instead of fur, they had clothing covering their entire body. Perhaps a protection from the weather?
"A boar." the larger figure said. I looked from them to the body that still laid there, un-moving. Was it really...?
"A bloody big one. Can we eat it?" The smaller figure asked, almost excitedly. The larger figure pulled a face."
You wanna get sick, boy? That thing was rabid!" The larger figure berated with a smack on the back of his head. The smaller figure, in reaction...
Laughed.
"Go get the gasoline," The large figure gave the smaller one a shove before walking towards the body. the smaller one didn't say anything in return as he turned and jogged back into the clearing.
All i could do was stay behind the tree and watch as the large figure stopped beside the un-moving creature. Then, to my horror, he gave it one sharp kick in its side.
'What are you doing?!' i wanted so desperately to yell at the figure. But to my surprise, the creature didn't even stir.
"fuckin' strange ass boar you are." the figure grumbled before walking past it, then crouching down and picking up a large fallen branch. All i could do was watch on as this figure picked up branch after branch. some he tossed away, others he shoved under his arm. Every time he had too many, he walked back to the fallen creature and dropped them on top of its body.
Not long after its body had been covered with the wood did the smaller creature return with a red container, only to pour it over the wood. The smell went straight up my nose, so strong that i had to cover it in an attempt to not gag. Once only drops of that foul smelling liquid were coming from the container did the larger one produce a small box from his clothing. From the small box he produced a even smaller stick. He flicked it twice against the side of the box then, to my shock, a flame came to life atop of the small stick.
"Out of the way boy." the larger figure said. He didn't even wait for him to move. Without looking he lazily threw the small flame into the bundle of sticks...Which exploded with flame so big and strong that even i could feel it from where i stood. I had to slam a hand over my mouth to stop myself from screaming in shock. the larger figure didn't even seem fazed, but the smaller figure...
He was so excited, he was jumping up and down and screaming in delight.
I had heard stories of creatures so violent, so vicious they attacked anything in their way. even attacked their own kind, even their own young, without any care. Were these those creatures?
An idea struck my mind as i watched them interacted with the fire. An idea so stupid that my own family would of thrown me out of the hollow if i even breathed it to them.
But it might just work...it might keep us alive. | 2021-08-07T20:18:38 | 2021-08-07T19:01:53 | 825 | 208 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | I stood outside the bar, hearing laughter and chatting from the warm interior. I looked down the line of people waiting for entry and started looking down the line muttering under my breath, "Twenty-two, twenty-five, Thirty, Twenty-nine, and... a twenty year old."
I sighed and I could see my breath within the cold night air. "Alright guys!" I gestured to the front of the line, "Come on in!" As the first four passed me, I held up my hand to block the entrance for the twenty year old, a tall black-haired boy who *might* have been able to enter as he looked to be at least twenty-three to any other outside viewer. Unluckily for him however, I have an exceptionally rare ability to see the age of any individual floating above their heads.
The boy looked at me confidently and smiled, "Is there a problem, sir?"
"May I see your ID please?"
The boy looked surprised and took out his wallet. "Alright, just give me a second here...". The boy gave an elaborate shuffling through his wallet for a good thirty seconds before he finally said, "I think I might have left my ID at home or something. Can you make an exception please? My friends drove me and one of them just went in, I mean we are literally the same age. Just ask him!"
I nudged him out of the line and said, "Sorry kid, no ID no entry."
The boy's previous friendly face slowly contorted into one of utter anger. He looked as if he were going to punch me until he stopped himself. Still clenching his fist with knuckles pale as ice, he stormed off without saying another word.
I sighed and looked at the next one in line. He looks definitely like a kid. I'd guess... ten years old. I used my ability and his age appeared above him displaying... **FOUR DIGITS**. WHAT PERSON IS 7300 YEARS OLD? He looks like a kid too!
He had auburn hair and was looking at me with wide eyes. I quickly blinked a few times to mask my loss of composure. "Uh... So, how old are you?"
The boy gave a huge grin and yelled in an ear-piercing voice, "Seven, three, zero, zero years old!"
I raised an eyebrow and knelt down. In a soft voice I asked, "Are you lost kid? Where's your mom?"
The boy scowled and yelled even louder in a tantrum impatiently, "I am **seven, three, zero, zero years old!**"
There is no way this kid is immortal or something. As far as I know, immortality and reincarnation or anything of the sort is nonexistent. I quickly pat his head gently and said, "Let's go find your mom, okay?"
The kid started sniffling and pointed inside the bar, "But my mom is inside!" I gently grabbed the kid's hand and guided him inside with me saying, "Come on kid. I'll find your mother."
We walked inside the bar with lots of people chattering and hearing the clinks of wine glasses. I grabbed the kid and held him up by the shoulders. I said in a loud booming voice, "WHOSE KID IS THIS?"
A thirty one year old whom I assumed to be the mother quickly ran to the kid and hugged him closely saying, "I am so, so sorry Alan. I thought you were asleep!"
I shook my head, "Listen, next time. Watch him closely and don't leave him alone by himself. *Ever*."
She glanced at me and softly said, "Alright."
I put a hand on the kid's shoulder and glanced at the mother, "By the way, how old is he anyways?"
The mother sniffled and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt. She said, "He's only ten years old."
"Then why does he call himself a 7300 year old?"
The mother gave a hint of a smile, "It's just his way of adding up to 10 years old. The two extra zeroes are just to make him seem smarter with math." She ruffled Alan's hair, "Aren't you smart?"
If you enjoyed, consider subscribing to my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/ChocolateChipWp/)! Critiques and suggestions are appreciated as well!
| **July 12, 1994**
Um what the fuck?! That man couldn't have been 1056 years old, there's just no way; the i.d. couldn't have been a fake and he looked exactly like his photo. Man... maybe all this drinking is catching up to me.. drowning out what brains I do got, I definitely should try to lay off the liquor for a while.
But what if I wasn't wrong? I had to be though. A 1056 year old wouldn't be getting drunk in that seedy shit hole, surely not. Jesus Christ, I'm an alcoholic aren't I? Instead of the shakes I'm just going fucking insane. I mean, a 1056 year old couldn't possibly exist and here I am trying to justify normal behaviors for a dude over ten centuries old. wonderful, I really am a psychotic freak of nature.
**July 28, 1994**
There it was again! That same 1056. I know it's the same one, the numbers have the same psychic texture as the last one, I know, I *know* it's the same 1056. And I'm sober, or at least I've been mostly sober the past two weeks, I really am trying hard. But jukov viell hell, the ancient freak was a little girl this time, not a slicked back 30 year old like in the club. And ve' saw me looking at her, it's like her eyes locked into mine with a laser and it was terrifying. I swear I couldn't move for what seemed like an hour though I'm sure it was just a few seconds. I don't know what the hell is going on, but I'm getting the fuck out. I'm leaving tomorrow and I'm not going to tell anyone why or where I'm going.
**August 5, 1994**
I'm settling here into Dallas just fine, even already got two jobs so I'm bouncing bars every night. It feels gulock vol shien over and already have my feet on the ground. I don't know what that thing was, but I ain't seen any thousand year old crypt keepers walking around here. I think it's buvok l'ie that I just forget that man and little girl and pretend it never happened. Volpp shon die! Ha
**August 9, 1994**
I'm vol niectien javhol. There's no way around it. I'm thryyka insane vol. In the bathroom this sunnatal 987 flickered above my head like a light with a wire shorting out. Da! I've never seen a nuvon above my head and never thought anything about it. But 987. It was in epileptic strobe, but unmistakable, 987 with it's own unizall textovu, my own psychic fingerprint, I guess. I don't know whether I should drink until I can't see straight enough to notice the flickering number apparating above my head, check myself in a psych hoklinta, or keep pretending that it doesn't effect me just like that thousand year old freak back in Philoxxanta. Fuckin hell...
**September 8, 2106**
Vien dol mal shinne. Va kra sel na vien talova! Herein je ve' sien. 1056 hai raj volkina buvo! Home! At last hommili! | 2018-02-12T22:42:59 | 2017-09-01T20:21:47 | 223 | 13 |
[WP] Every person has the date of their death tattooed on their arm. The funny thing is, you were supposed to die yesterday. | I wasn’t sure what to do. As far as I knew, nothing like this had happened before. Ever. My death date was marked down as 19/05/2020, yesterday. I was too young to die of old age, which meant I had somehow managed to avoid a tragedy without even knowing what the tragedy was. Either that, or my marking was wrong.
What do you do in a situation like this? There’s a mortuary waiting for my body to arrive, a funeral next week for a living person, and flowers keep arriving at my door.
I could disappear. There are people who have tried in the past, they mangled their markings and took off in the hope that they could live an ordinary life on the outskirts of this world. I was awful at hide and seek though, let alone disappearing entirely.
I spent much of the day brooding at home, researching in private browsing tabs to find any other cases like mine. Nothing came up. In the end, I curled up on my bed and went to sleep.
I awoke to the sound of mumbling and shuffling feet. Without opening my eyes, I knew this must be the time. Late, but it was happening. My cause of death would be murder.
Just as I was preparing myself for the end, I caught a few words of mumbling and my eyes snapped open in surprise. A hooded figure with his back to me was hunched as if looking at a phone. “...hard to find...boss will be mad...have to spend enternity in the shadow realm now...stupid humans...”
“Uh, excuse me?” The hooded figure turned around and I gasped at his appearance. What I thought to be a hoodie was actually...well, I don’t know what it was. It looked like an oversized hooded poncho. Beneath the hood, he looked mostly human. Except, there was no life in him. No colour to his waxen cheeks, no light in his small black eyes, a faint blue tinge to his lips. He was dead. Yet..
“Shush, it’s hard enough thinking what to do without you blabbering to save your life.” His tone was irate as he glared at me.
“Actually, I wasn’t ‘blabbering’ for you to save my life. I want to know why I’m not dead yet. Oh, and who are you?”
He sighed, lifted the hood from his head and took a seat at the end of my bed.
“You’re not dead because I accidentally cancelled your tragedy event, I can’t collect your essence and take you to the afterworld because you’re still alive, and if it’s still not clear who I am, I’m Reaper 67682601. You can call me Oswald.”
~~~
Going to leave this here but it was fun to write...loved the prompt! This is my first time writing based on a prompt and my first time putting anything on Reddit, so I hope it isn’t too awful! | There was something in the air. I could feel it.
For the hundredth time, I swiped my finger down on my phone screen and compared the numbers to those which were on my arm. I mumbled them out loud, and then once more to be sure.
I had been sitting in my chair for nearly twelve hours. I had planned to drink an entire bottle of Famous Grouse on my way out, but the bottle sat next to me with only barely a sip taken from it. There had to be some kind of mistake. Was this death? Was I supposed to feel anything at all?
I spun around to face the window. Everything looked normal for half-past five in the morning. The rising sun had peeked over the rooftops and bounced off the dew covered cars parked in the street. Nobody around, the only sound was the fridge whirring away in the kitchen.
No messages on my phone, but why would there be? Everyone thinks I’m dead, why would they call me to check?
My nose suddenly developed a whistling sound as I breathed. Borrowed breaths which I shouldn’t even have, almost like a reminder of how lucky I was to be breathing. There must be some kind of mistake.
I turned back to my living room. It was bare and clean. I’d given away and sold most of my possessions, gave my plants their final watering and used up everything in the fridge. My trash was bagged up next to the back door ready to be thrown away by the person who comes to deal with my corpse, through the door I had left unlocked.
I suddenly felt an irrational annoyance that I had taken such a big loss on quickly selling my car, and here I was, alive with no fucking transport and massive hole in my pocket.
Do I run and hide? Do I tell the world?
My mind was already made up as I leapt from my chair. I made it half way up the stairs before I decided to turn back, chugging a generous amount of whisky, and then turning again to look out of the window.
“You’re mine” I thought, as I gazed at the hills in the distance. | 2020-05-20T03:22:05 | 2020-05-19T23:01:45 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] "So you're immortal?" "Yes." "But you wear armor." "It gets tiring pulling out everything that gets shot and stabbed into me." | I gripped my dagger tightly, shifting my weight slowly, putting on a show of being wary. The man was heavily armoured, but frequent practice meant I knew where the cracks and seams were. Play to their expectations—they weren’t expecting to be stabbed by a dagger, especially by what looked to be an unconfident opponent.
In but a few moments, I was proven right. The man charged at me, his sword favouring his right side. I dug my left foot in for a quick pivot, keeping my profile low and slipped my dagger in to the crack in his torso, exposed from the quick movement.
I allowed myself a smug smirk, and twisted the dagger to hear his sputtering cry. The fight was over.
“Ouch,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm. It unnerved me a little.
“Enjoy your last moments, knight,” I spat. “Hope you are carrying gold.”
“I’m not going to die,” he said matter-of-factly, like a bored man pointing out that the yes, the stone was indeed a stone.
I pulled my dagger out, stepping back. The man did not stagger from the flesh wound, and instead inspected it.
“That’s a good hit,” he said. “Skilful and cunning. You must have killed many a man like that.”
I stepped back again. The wariness was not pretend this time. I knew the dagger sunk in deep, and my twisting would likely have impacted an organ, even if not a vital one. Any person should be bent double, and even a more sturdy one might only have found steadiness with the aid of an immovable wall. Instead, this man stood on two feet, seemingly none the worse for wear, despite the outpouring of blood akin to a generous faithful at the church.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Not dead,” he winced slightly. “But in some pain.”
“... What?”
“Sorry. A long life means you make bad jokes. It’s part of growing up,” he said. Two gloved hands reached for his helmet, and plucked it off. Numerous deep scars traced around his handsome face.
“A long life?”
Immortality? I’ve heard stories. Who hasn’t? But that was the domain of gods, of divinity, not of somebody who couldn’t even see the sky without an ugly black tower standing in their way.
“Longer than you know,” he winked. “You don’t have to be so wary. I won’t kill you.”
“Forgive me,” I said dryly. “A short life meant that I’m more concerned about dying.”
The knight laughed heartily.
“That’s a good one,” he said.
“Why do you wear armour, then?”
“Immortality doesn’t make me… not fleshy,” the knight sighed. “It gets tiring pulling out everything that gets shot and stabbed into me. I don’t particularly like those feelings, even if I don’t die.”
“Me neither.”
My stomach rumbled. This was supposed to be my mark, my way to a dinner later tonight. But it was not to be.
“You are good, kid. And alert,” the knight said. “I’ve been stabbed enough times in my life. But those stabbings have, in a way, contributed to my fortunes.”
I remained silent.
“I have a proposal for you. I like adventuring, and I usually succeed, by sheer force of will. And well, by not dying, of course. But I would like somebody else to stab the people that want to hurt me, and I think you are perfect for the job.”
“Why?”
“Because I see the desperation to live in your eyes. I hear the hunger in your body, feel the greed in your mind.” the knight smiled, wistful and sad, his eyes drifting to a time long gone. “They are something I’ve lost a long, long time ago. You’ll do well, kiddo.”
“And you’ll what, feed me? Clothe me?”
“You’ll do that yourself, once given the means to,” the knight said. “Shanking lowlifes might feed you for a day. Shanking the correct people can feed you for a lifetime.”
---
r/dexdrafts | It’s war time. Again. It seems like every time we enter an age of peace, it ends quicker and quicker. They always come to pray to me. Asking me for help, to fight for them. They never realize that both sides are always praying. I always suggest peace of course, they never listen.
For an immortal, I’m really not that old. I’m roughly 20000 years, which would out me at 20 for this group. We aren’t even allowed to leave our home planet until we’re 18. We get our assignments, I’m a liaison. Or at least, I will be. They start us at a more primitive place to get our feet wet. Kind of like an internship. Instead of getting somewhere cool or at least a little bit developed, I’m stuck here. None of the other planets around here even has life yet, which means even on my days off I’m stuck my myself. How lame is that?
So, they pick war once again. Such a violent species. I can help bring peace, but I’m not allowed to fully stop them. They have to handle the overall issue on their own. Won’t progress forward unless they do, at least I’m told.
I put on my armor, and leave my apartment. I want to see if the baker is still alive. I’m really craving an almond croissant. Guns are blazing and the humans cries of pain fills the sky. So noisy for it being so early. You would think they would call a truss until at least 10.I make my way through the slaughter to the shop. The baker is inside, his dead body laying partway on the counter. Figures- he was never much of a fighter. A bit too porky to be much of a threat.
I walk over to the grocery store, having to pick through whatever left. Something tugs at my part leg. It’s a little boy, looking very tired and scared. This almost brings me out of my indifference, seeing him. I do my best not to. While it may seem cruel, if I let myself get too attached to the humans, I would go insane by now. Not being able to get physically too much involves also means I can’t get too mentally involved.
“What’s up buddy?”
“You’re that fighter guy, aren’t you?” He asks. God, he’s going to ask me to fight for him, isn’t he? I’m going to do it if he asks, against my better judgment, knowing it means little boys on the opposing side will die.
“Yup, you figured it out.”
“Why do you wear all that armor? You can’t die,” He asks, looking at me. I look at him curiously. People normally don’t ask about me, just how I can help them. It’s a nice change of pace.
“It still hurts to pull bullets and knives out of me. This way I’m a little more comfortable.”
“Oh, that’s smart,” he says, turning away.
“Hey, do you want an almond croissant? I think they might have some at the grocery store. I could keep you safe, while we go get one,” I say, feeling a little too protective of the boy already. He nods and I take his small hand and lead him to the store, feeling not as alone for once. | 2021-11-23T11:01:16 | 2021-11-23T07:13:42 | 35 | 21 |
[WP] You are superhuman; invulnerable, invincible, super strength, the works. Rather than become a superhero, or supervillain, or the military, you choose a different branch of the government to join and fight the good fight with: the IRS. | I walked into the building and up to the front desk, a young woman with an unusually bright smile looked up.
"Good morning, how may I help you?"
I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my card, handing it to her.
"I'm here to meet the boss."
She looked at my card, her smile instantly vanishing. She reached over to the large screen on the desk in front of her and pretended to swipe as if looking for something. I could see every pixel on the screen in the reflection of her eye as she played for time.
"Uhh... I'm sorry, I don't have you on the schedule today. Let me... just... call my manager."
I nodded, and she quickly turned and went into the door behind her. Unfortunately that wouldn't stop me from hearing what was going on behind the door. I pretended to scroll on my phone, and listened in.
*"What do you mean he's from the IRS?"*
*"I'm sorry Sir, I panicked. Here's his card."*
*"Jeez. Did you tell him the boss is in?"*
*"No sir, we were given strict instructions not to tell anyone."*
*"Good. Alert the security teams, just in case he doesn't leave. We don't want a scene."*
Me neither. But I don't think either of us believed that was a possibility. The door opened, and a small man walked out, straight for me.
"Good morning, what may I do for you today?"
"I'm here to meet your-"
"Oh but he isn't here today. You'll just have to schedule an appointment."
"Now both you and I know that isn't true, just like the fact that you say this building has 90 floors when it only has 72. That's where he's been hiding for the past few days."
A look of fear came over the man's face, "How did you-"
Even if I didn't, his pulse would have given him away. "Look," I continued, "I know, you know and he definitely knows, that this meeting had to happen one day. He's been moving from state to state, avoiding my seniors so far, but I know for a fact he's here and I'm not going to leave here without him. So you better ask the security guards walking towards us to stand down and let me do my job."
He took a step back, blinking in confusion and turned to look at the burly man approaching us. "Can I help you Sir?" He drawled, stepping close to me, as if trying to intimidate me. He was a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than me, with 14 other guards posted around the lobby, but none of that was going to matter. I turned to him.
"Yes, if you could just point me to the elevator up to the boss's office, that would be great."
The small man piped up. "I told you he isn't here. Come back with an appointment."
"No." I spoke calmly. The security guard stepped up, "Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."
He placed a hand on my shoulder and pushed. But I only move when I choose to. He pushed again, nothing. He looked over at his other teammates, confused. They started closing in, as he struggled to move me. I calmly put my hand on his and peeled it away from my shoulder, as he shrieked in surprise and pain. Everyone in the lobby turned to look, as the guards charged towards me, baton's raised.
To the ordinary person, it was less time than the blink of an eye, but as that moment passed, the guards all found themselves with their pants around their ankles and their hands tied with their own shoelaces. I looked over at them from the door I had walked over to, as they looked around to see where I had disappeared to. The small man noticed me first, his expression changing to one of pure horror as he realized what I'd done. The door was locked, but I just flexed my wrist and the metal locks shattered, as I stepped inside. I looked up to see the rectangular spiral of the stairways, positioning myself in the middle, and jumped.
The floor seemed to disappear beneath me, as I soared upwards, each passing floor a blur. I saw the top of the staircase and stuck my hand out, grabbing the rail next to the door to stop my ascent, otherwise I probably would've popped out of the top of the tower. I straightened my clothes, then turned to the thick metal door in front of me. I placed my fingers on either side and pushed. The metal groaned as it bent inwards like paper and the concrete crumbled as I broke through the door. I stepped into the hallway, hearing every footstep the special security agents on this floor made, as they made their way, guns drawn, through the corridors to find me standing, waiting. I saw them get into position, then one of them yelled,
**"FREEZE!!!"**
What a wonderful idea.
I puckered my lips and blew out some air, freezing the water vapor in the air around them into a cold shell. By the time they'd break free, I'd be done. I walked past them and headed straight to the main room, where he was. His private security detail was standing guard outside his office, but they didn't even have the time to blink before I'd already emptied out their magazines and cuffed them to each other.
I opened the door and walked in, then turned around and used my eyes to melt the metal in the door locks and dead bolts so that nobody could follow me in. I turned around and walked into the suite. I opened his room's door to find him on the bed, a bucket of fried chicken in one hand and a TV remote in the other.
"What the hell is the meaning of this? Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?"
"I'm from the IRS Mr. Trump, with an order to conduct your audit, now. Time to finally drain the swamp and make America, great again." | "This job asks a lot of you. It's quite *taxing*."
The mousy woman with the braids rubs her calloused elbow, adjusts her monochromatic attire of professional blandness; her lips are cracked, her eyes beady, when she moves she slouches like a dog that has seen one too many beatings.
The mere expectancy of a smile withers from her lips, her cracked lips, when I tell her, "I am not going to sleep with you."
My igneous abs protrude from under my shirt, a landscape of pure testosterone, and my steely blue eyes can render hellfire at an instant; this woman, this 'Bethany' thinks she has any right to flirt with me? It's like a mole flirting with a lion, offering itself up as any kind of sustenance the majesty might require.
"I-I didn't—"
"You are right," I tell the pitiful, bulbous thing before me, "you *didn't*. You could have woken up this morning and made an effort to look somewhat inviting, but you didn't. You could have joined a gym, but you didn't. You could have thought about the grotesque figuring staring back at you in the mirror when you approached me with your disgusting joke, but you *didn't*. That just about sums you up, doesn't it? Oh, great. Here comes the waterworks."
The monochrome mole sobs, gasps for air like a cat in a bag in a canal, and she says, "I'm sorry."
She waddles off, like a sack of flour on the run, and I shrug. Her coffee mug reads 'I drink liberal tears' but after giving it a whiff it seems it contains tea and vodka rather than the lacrimal secretions of the politically liberal.
I present my new coworkers with the mug, the damning evidence, and they all tell me it's a joke. "We don't get a lot of libertarians here," says a goateed, checkered-shirt-wearing, semi-bald lump of bespectacled sadness. He chuckles.
A woman with angry brows comes storming over, raging past cubicle after cubicle. "Beth's in the bathroom. She's *crying*."
"Better give her her cup then, so she can give herself a refill."
They all glare, the IRS glare, and I breathe a deep and bitter sigh. "I'm not going to sleep with any of you." Ms Angry-Brows shakes her head softly. "Well ... I might make an exception for *you*."
My phone rings, and it's Gary Splatter. My manager. "I've got to take this. You guys have no sense of humor. I'm disappointed in all of you." I look over at Angry-Brows. "Well, not you. You're doing just fine."
"How's your first day?" says Gary. "Think you can pull this off?"
"Of course I can. They made the first move. Spartan has been tax-exempt from the very start, and now the new administration's making changes? Bringing in us heroes to collect on fellow heroes? It's not right."
"Right, right. Just make sure you bring down morale. Don't get yourself fired."
"Relax. I'm just bullying the losers. The people here in charge of my promotion won't give a damn. That's how you move up the ranks."
There's a loud groan. "Superb Guy. What are you thinking? These are government employees."
"So what?"
"Don't you get it? They're *all* losers."
I look up at the pack of coworkers gathered around me. "I'm, uh, I'm going to have to call you back."
Mr Goatee blinks. "You're a Spartan mole?"
Me? A mole? No, I'm a lion. "That's nonsense. Where did you hear that?"
"You just admitted to everything," says Angry-Brows. "On the phone."
"... You guys were listening to that?"
Beth, the walking embodiment of regret, stumbles over. Haggard, red-cheeked.
I point a finger at her. These people are just humans, losers or not. They will turn on the weakest among them. I can count on it. "She was drinking. Just smell her cup."
Mr Goatee takes a whiff and he looks over at me, squints. "... This is kombucha."
"What?"
"It's fermented tea," says Angry-Brows and I don't like her all that much anymore.
"Kumbaya? No, it's vodka. Isn't it?"
Bethany laughs. "What a fucking dumbass."
Even Angry-Brows joins in, laughing. They're all roaring, the pack of losers, clutching their bellies and banging at their desks. "S-Stop laughing!"
"Goddamnit, Superb Guy," says ... Gary? Oh. I forgot to hang up the phone.
I'm fired from the IRS. I'm fired from Spartan. I sit down in the fetal position in the shower, and I caress my igneous abs. "I'm a lion," I whisper to myself. "I'm a lion." But all I can hear is the voice of a mouse. | 2022-08-19T06:33:19 | 2022-08-19T06:08:12 | 131 | 64 |
[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. | "Well there goes that plan"
I thought, as the 20 year old man infront of me aged 200 years in mere seconds and crumbled into dust.
"Prisoner" the judge shouted as he leered down from his chair. "Have you decided the method of your demise?"
"I have your honour" I managed to garble through my shaking jaw.
I guess there is no getting out of this. If I have to go then I may as well go out with a bang!
"Well boy?? Get on with it! What shall it be?"
"Here goes nothing" I though.
.......
"Death by Snu Snu sir" | 2021-06-24T11:15:28 | 2021-06-24T10:06:58 | 28 | 20 |
[WP] Upon their death, each individual must battle every living thing they killed to proceed to the afterlife. At the gates, a mild mannered person finds they are faced with an unexpected fight.
When I first thought of the prompt, Leiningen Versus the Ants part 2 seemed like it would be kind of amusing.
Have fun with it. | The Guardian looked down at the small, nervous man before him in a short-sleeve dress shirt and unevenly-hemmed dress pants. "Well, this is gonna be a pretty quick one," he thought. But in a thundering voice he announced: "Arise, Warrior Hossenthaeler, and prepare for battle."
"Battle?" the man replied? "What sort of battle? Why am I having to go into battle? Five minutes ago I was talking to the nurse, and I have to tell you that it's a terrible hospital but I have no idea how I got here. What on Earth is going on?"
"You are at the gates of the afterlife, but no warrior may enter defeated. To cross into death, you must first defeat those that you have killed in life, so that you may stride into the hereafter as a victorious hero."
"Killed? I haven't killed anyone!" the man replied. "How could you think that I've killed anyone? Do I look like I'd kill anyone?!"
"Well, it doesn't necessarily have to be a person," the Guardian answered. "It could be an animal, or even a bug."
"Eww, I hate bugs, I never kill them, I make someone else do it. And I'm a vegan -- I stay healthy by doing crossfit, and I've never allowed anyone to serve me anything with any animal products in it. Whenever I go out, I specifically make clear that I am not going to accept any food that has harmed an animal. But in that awful hospital they would not tell me what drugs were used on animals, and I was so upset I asked to talk to the head nurse, and she would not return my calls."
"Ok, ok, ok," said the Guardian. "But everyone has killed something. And it's sort of a requirement to get into Valhalla. You have to be a warrior, and warriors kill things."
The man paused for a second and thought. "Well, when you say 'kill,' what do you mean?"
"Uh, you know, make dead..."
"Right, but do I have to have killed it myself? Or just caused it to die by having someone else kill it? Or maybe it's sort of a butterfly effect thing where if I decide to leave the house at 9:05 rather than 9:00 it causes an accident somewhere completely far from me that I never even see and that's somehow indirectly my fault? Is this basically proximate cause or remote cause, or how does it work? I really think this system doesn't make much sense, I have to tell you."
At that moment a great cloud rose from the ground and formed a terrible shape behind the Guardian. With it came a great buzz, the sound of laughter and joy. Inside appeared to be a writhing mass of people, some in flagrante, some sliding or riding roller coasters, some just sitting peacefully, all whirling and moving and coming in and out of focus within the great and mighty cloud.
"Oh my god, what is that?" the man asked. "It's ridiculous! Is this some sort of a prank? And are those people naked!!! What is the meaning of having something like this here when I'm trying to get to Valhalla? I demand to see a manager!"
And with that the great cloud disappeared, the buzzing stopped, and the gates opened.
"Proceed, 'Warrior,'" the Guardian sighed, "you've successfully killed everyone's fun. Again." | Who could have thought there ever existed this many insects on planet earth, at any point, let alone that he had been responsible for all of their demise. Looking back at it now, cars was a mistake. His battered hands were shaking, covered in sot and crushed bugs. The platform hummed and began to rise.
It had taken a long time to work through the endless waves of the infinitesimals, but it was nothing compared to fighting the cats he had accidentally driven over in life. Robert had always loved cats, it was the perfect pet, dog owners be damned. It had been a little bit traumatizing, he admitted to himself. It had also seemed a little bit absurd that he would have to fight for his afterlife, but as with anything else, he got on with it.
The platform stopped at the top of the large tower structure with a roaring snap, Robert could see outlines of mountains in the distance, but it was hard to see through the grey clouds that lingered. He had spent the better part of three months in constant battle, and it appeared he had finally reached the top.
A man leaned on one of the pillars overlooking the abyss below. Something seemed familiar about his posture.
The man sighed without turning “What kept you? I’ve been waiting here for ages!”
“Who are you? I’ve never killed—or well, I mean, never killed any human,”
The man turned to face Robert, a dueling mask covering his face.
“Pick up the rapier Robert, fight me.” The man curtly said and aimed a rapier of his own at Robert.
As soon as Robert picked up the rapier, the stranger launched at him. Habit kicked in and he parried three quick stabs aimed at his head before a riposte almost hit the assailant.
“You’re good, but I’ve certainly not killed anyone fencing!” Robert began while trying to find an opening. A quick thrust barely grazed the opponent’s mask. Two strikes returned and nicked him in the left shoulder.
Quick exchanges without any lasting injury continued as they moved around the circular arena. More than once Robert had to slide sideways to avoid being mercilessly stabbed. The stranger charged up and spun to the left with the rapier held within his stance. Robert hesitated two paces back before committing, he pierced his opponent through the chest while at the same time grabbing the stranger’s rapier with his free hand. Robert could feel dampness building up in the corner of his eyes.
“There’s only one idiot I know who would spin like that… Joshua.”
The stranger struggled to breathe, blood seeping through the netted mask.
“Couldn’t leave my brother to face death alone, now could I?” | 2018-11-09T12:10:11 | 2018-11-09T11:41:13 | 108 | 37 |
[WP] Drunkenly, you accidentally pour vodka into your pet's water bowl. As a result, your pet breaks the number one rule: do not speak to your owner... Ever.
Did NOT expect this amount of replies. Thanks guys! It'll be an interesting read. | "Bacoooooon." Something wet forcefully nudged my cheek. "Bacon, bacon, bacon."
With a groan, I tried to sit up--when had I gone to bed?--but that took too much effort, so I opted to lazily open one eye instead. Boomer, my Great Pyrenees pup, pressed his nose against my face again. "Bacon."
Note to self: no more vodka. Ever.
I ran my fingers through his fur, then patted his head. "Let's get you out, boy."
"And then bacon? Bacon bacon, not beggin' strips?"
Blinking furiously, I narrowed my eyes to ensure my concentration. "Boomer, are...can you say that again?"
"I want bacon," he panted, mouth clearly moving with the words. His paw rested on my chest. "Bacon, bacon."
"You...you're talking," I gasped stupidly.
"Yeah. Yeah, yeah." Suddenly, his ears pressed to his head, and, with a small whimper, he jumped off the bed and curled up in his crate.
"Hey, buddy, what's wrong?" I attempted to stand, saw the world spin, and landed on my knees. Crawling over to him, I rested my face next to his. "Boomer, what's the matter?"
"Bad."
"What's bad?"
"Me. Don't talk. That's the rule. I broke the rule."
He gave me those big puppy dog eyes of his. "The rule?" I repeated. "Who says that's a rule?"
He just whined and rolled away from me.
"Hey, buddy, it's not your fault. You made a mistake, that's all." I scratched under his chin, his favorite, and his back leg started twitching. "And, and we all make mistakes. Don't, don't be sad. Hey, I have an idea: how about I make us bacon, and we forget all about this?"
His tail rose, flopped down. "Really?"
"Really."
"Real bacon?"
"As much as you want."
Rise, flop. Rise, flop. "I'm a good boy?"
I felt my throat get tight all of a sudden. "Yes, Boomer, you're a good boy."
Tail whipping violently now, he lurched out of the crate and landed on my stomach. "I love bacon! I love bacon and I love you!" He spoke between covering my face in slobbery kisses. "I love you! Love, love, love!"
I laughed and hugged him. "I love you too." | "Whooo hoooo! Now that has some kick to it!"
My eyes shot opened thinking if I heard what I think I heard. 'God my head hurt like hell, damn that was a crazy night. Been a long time since I drank that much. Wait, hold on. What had a kick to it?' I roll off the couch and thud hard onto the floor.
"Drank you frunk bashtard you have feet ya know. Hahaha. Drank, Frank. Frunk, Drunk. Hahaha."
Oh god that high pitch laugh, uhg its tearing my head in two. "Shut up Duke. I got a hangover." My eyes wander over to where Duke is teetering on his feet over by his water dish and next to that is an empty bottle of Greygoose. The realization slowly coming to my mind. The vodka, the conversations last night, the hangover, my hunger, the burger in the fridge... wait what was I thinking?
"Hey Frank, I could use some food over here, and got anymore of this liquid goose?" Duke says as he falls over. "Oh man, we had a rager lash night didn't we."
"Oh shit Duke what did you say?"
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Your dreaming Frank I can't talk. Oh man I'm so screwed. You imagining this Frank everyone knows parrots cant talk."
"Duke! Your drunk! Parrots are suppose to talk but you cant drink man, you might die. I gotta get you some water." I rush to the kitchen and turn on the faucet.
"Oh right... I'm allowed to talk, its Chip thats not allowed to talk to you."
As I turned off the water I could of sworn Chip's bark sounded strangly like 'shud up'. | 2016-08-02T19:31:45 | 2016-08-02T18:35:44 | 569 | 124 |
[WP] Whenever you touch someone they always die within 48 hours, how do you use this power? | I followed him for a month, from city to city. It was not easy, but I really enjoyed it. I was finally affecting the world, and not in a bad way -- I was a monster hunter. It is amazing that I got this chance, with so many things to atone for.
A psychologist would probably say that I am suicidal, ready to sacrifice everything for the cause. But that's all right if the result is worth it.
He was hard to find. I have collected notes, newspaper clippings, unexplained deaths. I had the Club to thank for the help. Even though they weren't as amazing as they thought, they did pretty good detective work.
Finally I found him, and now it was so easy. He wasn't used to running at all. He was still doing whatever he wanted, leaving a trail of death and despair. Absolute power corrupts the heart, but I am sure he never had a heart to start with.
Each day for a month I opened my laptop to discuss my progress with the Club. "He stopped" they said. "We think he is waiting for you. He might be ready this time." The thought was terrifying, but the fear itself was amusing. What am I afraid of? I can't sleep at nights. In my nightmares my hands are all red, and however I clean them, it does not help. Nothing can be worse than that.
We met in an nondescript alley. He was so arrogant, just as I imagined him.
[And he knew my name.](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/26var2/wp_as_a_child_you_figure_out_that_you_can_kill/chuunwh)
So much for monster hunting.
I did shake his hand though. I felt bad tricking him, but it was necessary -- if he knew that those were his last 48 hours, he would have tried something terrible, something darkly impressive. It was better this way.
After he walked out of the alley, I've looked at my hands and marveled at how clean they felt. I have just killed person in cold blood, and it felt so right, so justified. Maybe I was the real monster. It was fortunate I did not have much time left.
But as I laid down on the pavement, I felt happy. And even though I knew I would not wake up, I welcomed the darkness.
Finally I can sleep, and no dreams at all. | I dropped everything and bought a plane ticket. I avoided touching myself, as the gypsy had instructed four days prior, remembering the little neighbor boy who jumped from behind the tree to frighten me. So gleeful, so innocent. I couldn't stop it. In fading disbelief, I watched the ambulances arrive that Wednesday and made my decision when I noticed my dog had passed in the night.
The security agents at the airport patted me down. I didn't look them in the eyes. I doubt I would remember them after...after.
Arriving in Washington I visited the monuments, saw the sights, tried not to touch the nicer looking people. Finally I visited the congressional chambers and shook hands with every exiting body I could. The next day, the same. Then it was time to leave.
I left extra money with the motel clerk, she looked like she needed it. Once more I left for the airport. Some of the TSA agents were wearing masks now, though news reports had only just started to piece together the mysterious deaths at the airport back home. They must have been given early warning internally. I looked them in the eye this time. They stared back suspiciously. I was selected for three body patdowns. I surprised myself when I had to stifle a smile. After an hour I was sitting uncomfortably next to a man who was noticeably displeased at having to ride in coach. I let myself smile, and it felt right.
Next stop, Wall Street.
ED: I wanted to develop this but I gotsta get to work. | 2014-05-30T06:23:43 | 2014-05-30T06:01:01 | 26 | 15 |
[WP] The hero stared at the boy who was supposed to be his wise old master. "Word of advice. If you ever achieve immortality then wait till you're at least 20", he said in a high pitched voice. | The warrior had seen many things in battle that kept him up at night: the bodies of man and beast twisted together in corpse lattices, blood pooled to his ankles, bubbling and putrid, men stronger than he—weeping as they searched for their own missing limbs. So, when he looked upon the boy, *the master* he had ascended the world's tallest peak to find, all he could manage was laughter.
"Does something amuse you, traveler?" the boy inquired, not opening his eyes or rising from his position of meditation, the falling snow outlining his legs on the rock.
"I was told this mountain was home to a great master, one who has found enlightenment," the warrior tossed his pack to the ground, disrupting the fresh layer of snow into a cloud that rose and fell.
The boy opened his eyes and watched with an arched brow, observing the man as he grunted and discarded his gear so carelessly. "The person who told you this tale is no liar."
The man let his shield down, sitting on the broad metal like a chair, unbuckling the leather straps and laying his sword down in the snow, "Nay, if you're the only person atop this peak, then she truly was nothing but a liar."
"I am the only one here," his voice was soft as the snowflakes that touched down around them. "and I am the master you seek."
Another laugh echoed from the warrior's gut as he stretched his aching legs, not bothering with another glance in the boys direction. "No, you're not."
A blade was at the man's throat before his next breath had escaped his lungs. The child perched atop the rear of his shield like a feather, one hand behind his back, the other pressing the knife firmly to the warrior's neck. The few meters of snow that had been between them remained completely undisturbed—the outline of the boy's legs still on the rock.
Instinctively, the warrior grabbed his weapon, attempting to retract the sword from its sheath. It stuck as he pulled, as if snagged inside.
"The frost, my friend," the boy said. "causes the blade to stick."
"How—" the words struggled to move past the dagger at his throat." How did you do that?"
The boy smiled, catching a snowflake on his tongue before answering, "I am the master you seek, and this is your first lesson."
_____
**Thanks for reading! Sub to /r/BeagleTales for daily prepubescent wisdom.** | John stared hard at this young boy who stood in front of him.
‘’Wha... where’s the master? I journeyed hard to reach here, to seek knowledge and power, and this is what I’m greeted by?’’
John tried to get past the boy, to continue his search for the almighty one, but was stopped.
‘’I am the master, the one with the power to rid the world of evil’’ , squeaked the boy.
John could barely contain his laughter, and scoffed at the boy. He continued laughing for a few minutes, before glaring at the him.
‘Please do not get in my way, I have to save my city from the demons that invaded a while back. I do not have time to waste, everyone is depending on me.’
John shoved past the boy, and continued walking. All of a sudden, the walls in the cave he was in started violently shaking. John looked back and saw the boy, floating in mid air with his arms outstretched, being surrounded by rocks of various sizes. John jumped in shock.
‘What is the meaning of this. Who are you!’
The boy laughed, ‘ I am Conviux, the master of earth, with the ability to control all forms of matter. You say you come here to seek knowledge? Power? Well, I think you should learn some manners first.’
John stuttered, ‘Bu...but how?’
The boy looked down sheepishly at him, ‘Here’s an advice, if you ever achieve immortality, wait till you’re at least 20. I was able to find the path to immortality at the age of 10, and trust me, I should have waited. ‘ | 2020-01-25T07:39:01 | 2020-01-25T07:33:23 | 257 | 149 |
[WP] You are a detective in 1890 Austria. The man inside the interrogation room claims to have an incredible secret that will exonerate him from his murder charge. You can't imagine what monster would murder a 1 year old child, let alone one as adorable as young Adolf Hitler was. | "If you're trying to get taken to the asylum for this," I replied, "it won't work. You *will* be hanged. So how about you tell us where you're really from. At least we can notify your family that way."
"I'm telling you, I'm from the future!" the assassin shouted.
"Oh yeah, what year?"
"2032."
I laughed. "Come on, man, everyone knows time travel isn't invented until 2349."
His face turned ashen. "Wait, what?"
"2349, dude. You never read a history book? So who you with? History Correction Movement? Jewish-Roma Rescue Alliance? Pacifists Interplanetary?"
"You --" he stammered -- "you already know about time travel? But... I invented it. And it *was* in 2032!"
Finally it clicked for me. I laughed out loud. The assassin looked like he was going to be sick. "Hey Hans, get in here!" I called down the hall. My partner came in, an eyebrow raised. "We've got an Independent!" I said.
"Whoa. We haven't had one of those in years. How long before '349?" he asked.
"Get this, he says he's a 21st-century boy."
Hans whistled. "*Twenty-first*," he said, drawing the syllables out.
The assassin turned to the side and vomited. Hans and I looked on, unfazed. "So buddy," I said, "I'm assuming that when you cracked time-travel, you didn't leave your notes around for anyone to find before you left."
"No..." he trailed off.
"They never do," I said.
"Never do," Hans nodded.
"Course, if you had left their notes behind," I said to the assassin, "I guess that'd've been the date in the history books. Who knows how many folks like you there were pre-'349, who cracked the secret but left without telling anyone. Everyone always figures they'll find a way to jump back forward. And they never do. We've seen, what, two hundred Independents so far, Hans?"
"Two hundred twenty-one," Hans said.
"Two hundred twenty-one," I repeated. "And that's just us, in the 500 years we've been here. Who knows how many of you went back to kill Stalin, or Mao, or their ex-wife for that matter."
"What the fuck is going on?" muttered the assassin, mostly to himself.
"You wanna explain it?" I asked Hans.
"Nah, you can."
"You ever hear the idea that we live in the best of all possible worlds?"
"Isn't that what *Candide* was making fun of?" the assassin asked.
"Yep," I answered. "And it's a fucking stupid idea. Only thing is, it just happens to be true."
"Oh come on--"
"You see," I explained, cutting him off. "When someone comes back and kills Hitler, the timeline they create actually winds up being *worse* than the original. Don't blame me. I think it's fucked up. WWII and all the shit that come afterward shouldn't be the best-case scenario. But I didn't make the system. Take it up with the man upstairs.
"So yeah," I continued, "that timeline's worse. A lot worse. In the original timeline, you get time travel in 2349. It took our people until 3283. That should tell you something. But when we did figure it out, boy, we made good use of it."
The assassin snorted. "Made good use of it? You didn't even stop me."
I looked at the clock. Hans saw the time, and stepped out of the room. I cleared my throat. "Sir, you stand charged with the offense of attempting to interfere with the original timeline. Under the Preservation Act adopted by the Inter-Timeline Council in 3302, I am authorized to administer a judgment and a sentence of my own accord. As such, you are hereby convicted and sentenced to death. The sentence will be carried out 24 hours ago, by Agent Hans Pintscher of the --"
At that point I looked up, and noticed the assassin was already gone. His handcuffs lay empty on the table.
----
^(Edit: Thanks, everyone, for all the nice comments and the constructive criticism. To be honest, I didn't think out the time-travel science in too much detail. I think part of the point of writing prompts is to let your words flow without worrying about making the story "polished." If I wanted to turn this into a proper short story, I'd definitely clear up some of the underlying science, and also make the exposition a tad less clunky. Thanks again for all the kind words!) | "I've been talking to him for three hours and he seems mostly lucid."
"Mostly?"
"Well, yes. He admitted guilt to the murders, walked me through how the crime went down in exact detail-"
"Do you mind giving me a quick rundown, I haven't been briefed on the case yet."
"Damn it, Müller was supposed to do that. I swear I will tan that boy's hide. So, the suspect sneaks inside the house with an axe at exactly three in the morning. He slithers upstairs and into baby Adolf's room. Unfortunately for him, Frau Hitler happens to be nursing the baby at that very moment. She screams and that rouses Herr Hitler, who was sleeping in the next room. He leaps out of bed, runs into the hall, sees the perp and jumps at him, receiving an axe to the skull for his trouble. Straight in the center, cleaves his skull in twain. Frau Hitler sprints past the perp with the baby, making a run for it. He sees them and is too quick for her. He grabs her by the neck with one hand, rips the baby out of her arms with the other, and tosses her down the stairs. She breaks her neck on the way down.
"But he's not done yet. He takes the crying baby downstairs into the kitchen and plops him down on the table. He then picks up the family's carving knife and skins a part of Adolf's upper lip..."
"Christ."
"... right were my mustache is. Then he cuts this symbol, I forget what he called it but it looks like a sort of mix between a cross and a spiral, into the baby. He does it all nice and shallow like, so the baby doesn't die right then and there. He then scoops up the juices and writes 'BLOOD FOR BLOOD' on the walls. Then he takes the baby, throws it in the stove and tosses a kerosene lamp in after it. The neighbors found the bastard sitting on a chair, watching the child burn. By the time they arrived though, the only thing left of the baby was a charred and blackened heart. We only know about the mutilation because he told us. He was proud of it too, that was the disturbing part. I have dealt with lunatics and idiots and idiot lunatics but this is something new. More of a massacre than a murder."
I took a big puff on my pipe before slowly exhaling. "Fucking madman, this is the third this month. Oh, don't look at me like that, if we let the public know there would be a panic. There was one in Munich and another in the Ruhr. The Germans alerted us after the second one happened. I'm just glad we caught the bastard before he put a fourth child into the ground. You don't have to worry about the sonofabitch anymore, Vienna will handle him... Do you have family, Herr Bauer?"
"Yes I do, a wife and three daughters."
"Good, take them out to the Ratskeller for dinner tonight, let them order the expensive items and get yourself a nice steak. Perhaps end the evening with a fine Italian liqueur and a romp with the missus while the children are asleep. When everyone is all tucked in, get up and watch your children sleep, watch their chests go up and down. Know that they are safe, Herr Bauer, for this man shall hang before the week is out. God knows if this interrogation is going to be as bad as I think it will be, I will be watching my son sleep tonight too." I turned to look him head on and I put my hand on his shoulder "Stay a little longer, mad dogs tend to try and bite, even if they are chained to the wall. I will need someone in the room with me."
He sighed "Let's get it over with."
EDIT: Changed some phrasing, if there is popular interest, Part II will come out tomorrow. | 2015-03-30T00:21:44 | 2015-03-29T23:54:41 | 1,156 | 21 |
[WP] After a whole year full of catastrophes, it’s December 2020. Astronomers have noticed that entire constellations and star systems are vanishing from the sky, night after night. What ever is happening, it’s getting closer to us. | There was some debate over where it began. Definitely close to the galactic core. But it was true. After a year of catastrophes - wildfires, the coronovirus, earthquakes, hurricanes, the Top Gun sequel - the news that the stars were disappearing sent many into full on panic, and others simply gave up. Astronomers tracked the disappearing stars, and confirmed that the effect was roughly spreading outwards from its origin point, and would reach Sol within a few months.
On March 4, 2021, Sirius went dark. But we were no longer looking at the stars. All attention was focused on the fleet of ships that had entered the Solar System. They deployed some kind of remote platforms, thousands of them. By March 10, they had created a web beyond the orbit of Pluto that completely enveloped the Solar System.
But we weren't looking at them either. A few ships had come further into the Solar System. Several were clearly building something orbiting Saturn. One parked in high Earth orbit. It was not only bombarded by radar, but radio messages, some hopeful, some aggressive, most panicked. And on March 10, the aliens responded.
"We understand that this is a terrifying phenomenon. You can relax now. The stars are not going out. We are simply shielding them. In one Earth minute, we will activate the net surrounding your star."
60 seconds later, all the stars winked out. Many screamed. But then, every radio receiver on Earth started getting a new signal - one that could be clearly identified as coming from the Voyager 2 space probe.
"Your probe is beyond the net. We are relaying its signal through subspace. You can no longer see it, but it is still there."
"We are the Concordance. We are an alliance of multiple species. We have recently received word that a vast armada of ships is approaching this galaxy. Their intent is hostile. While the precise cause is not clear, we believe emanations from this fleet are responsible for the rise in natural disasters and other disturbances on many worlds. We are concealing our stars to deny them navigation data. This will greatly slow their advance, but we need every resource we can get. The conflict will be bloody, but we must stand together, or we will all be consumed."
At that point, Pakistani Prime Minister Imran Khan responded.
"You mean to tell us that this galaxy is being invaded by aliens who are also responsible for all the shit that has been happening on Earth? And you're asking us to help fight them?"
The aliens replied "Essentially, yes."
"Excellent."
Within a few days, every single nation on Earth had voted to declare war on the invaders, now known as the Swarm. Draft notices were issued, but hardly necessary. The entire human race was relieved - no, ecstatic - to have a target to vent its fears and anxieties upon. The Concordance supplied us with advanced technology, but we would have fought with sticks and stones if we had to.
Because whoever these assholes thought they were, we *really* wanted to kill them. | "well, this is utter shit."
Samhail, God of the Ocean Sky muttered as he paced around the planetarium, eyeing the universe. His universe. What started out as an ever evolving painting of life had finally begun eating itself. And on top of that, his pet Glorff had shat itself right in the middle of the room.
"every time. Every fucking time..."
His words echoed round the immense space to no-one in particular.
"I turn my back for one second, and not only does earth sprout a new cancer, but they can't even read the signs! No matter how many gentle nudges, appearances, warnings, and threats, they always end up back in the same spot. It's not like these things were difficult to overcome if they just worked together...
Gabbie?
Well, say something Gabbie. Please?"
A tall luminescent, four leggeded being wearing a very large beanie covering most of its head - or perhaps, her head - stepped out from her little corner where she had been preoccupied with an asteroid.
"Fuck it. You might do well just to start it all over again."
Samhail, God of the Ocean Sky hesitated for a moment. He rested his triangular head over his elongated hands, thinking...
"but... There were good people, weren't there?"
No response. Gabbie was gawking, fixated by a black hole...
"Gabbie?"
A glance up, and then a long pause; her fingers weaved between space rocks above her head.
"yes. There were some."
Samhail, God of the Ocean Sky, Lord of the Sacred Paints and friend to most (among other exhaustive titles) reached into the brown rucksack hanging from a hairsteing slung over his shoulder, and pulled out a large black curtain. It seemed endless, until he drew it out to the length of the room.
He fluffed it once, then again.
Preparing the final curtain.
"well, maybe those ones can have a second chance." | 2020-03-24T03:51:44 | 2020-03-24T02:56:39 | 67 | 13 |
[WP] You're a member of the Z-team. Your team is who they send in when teams A-Y have failed, but that's never happened before. But to everyone's horror, that day just came. | General, we have confirmation Y-Team is down! I repeat, Y-Team is down!
My God, this can’t be! Are you certain all our nuclear powered T-Rex’s are dead?!
Affirmative! General, the enemies are approaching our base. What are your orders, sir?
A–Y Team all failed, which leaves… No! No, they’re too dangerous!
They just took out our sentry. We’re running out of time, General!
(Grunts!) If it comes to this… Code Z! I repeat, Code Z!
B-but, sir, Code Z is—
We have no order choice! Deploy Z-Team now!
Y-yes, sir! Code Z, prepared Z-Team for combat deployment! Code Z, prepared Z-Team for combat deployment!
Come on… Come on…
Sir, Z-Team is at the shutter gate! They’re awaiting your go ahead.
Lord, forgive me for what I must do… Activate Z-Team—unleash the Twitter mob!
They’re tweeting, sir… They’re tweeting… The toxicity level is through the roof! And… canceled! Our enemies are canceled and thus lost their livelihood! Their army now have zero combatant! We won! We are saved, General!
No… No, this is merely the beginning.
Sir, the mob aren’t stopping! They’re still tweeting! They’re canceling our leaders, you—and me!? The Z-team is committing friendly fire, General, and they’re not stopping!
(Sigh) It was an honor serving with you, gentlemen, but by this time tomorrow… none of us will have a job. May God forgive me for what I’ve unleashed upon this world. | *Bzzt Bzzt*
Somewhere under the sea of pizza boxes, soda cans, and a passed out Commander Craig -his phone rang- which wasn't unusual especially since his latest firing, Pizza boy, supposedly was eating customers pies instead of delivering them.
*Bzzt Bzzt Bzzt*
They never called back-to-back. Those bill collector bastards didn't believe in torture... least hopefully they didnt.
Finally having enough, Craig rolled over just a little too far and onto the floor-tipping over a bottle of soda like Rube Goldberg- all over the coffee table- all over the unopened bills- all over the newspaper.
Then the voicemail kicked in:
*Is this thing on? Hello? Alright whoever this is- its time. Its all gone to hell and your our last hope. May God have mercy on us all. Ya happy now!? Get me the hell out of here!*
Well that cant be good | 2022-11-06T18:23:05 | 2022-11-06T17:26:12 | 31 | 21 |
[WP] You live in a world where your soulmate is unable to hurt you, intentionally or otherwise. You are fighting in a war, when one of the enemy's knives harmlessly glances off you. | "I'm sorry," Alexander said, as his spade bit into the earth. Tears crept down skin that had, until this day, been desert.
"Why are you doing this?" Katie asked, her wrists struggling against the rope bindings; they didn't hurt her, no matter how fiercely she fought them, and yet they were tight.
Alexander heaved another mound of dirt out of the slowly deepening hole. In the distance, a great vulture flew down from a tree and landed next to the body of Katie's brother. Its beak dipped into the open carcass.
"I couldn't kill you. I can't even harm you."
"Then...we are..."
Alexander paused for a moment. "I-" he stuttered, "I can't kill you, but others can. *They will*. You are the King's daughter. You will be cut into pieces. And I will be killed for helping you." He thrust the spade back into the earth.
The vulture squawked; its beak was now a dripping crimson.
"You don't have to do this. We could run away, together," Katie begged.
"I'm sorry. But I will come back for you." Sweat mingled with tears, and the evening light danced on his cheeks. He picked Katie up, and carefully placed her into the pit.
"Please," she begged, terrified, as dirt fell onto her.
For a moment he paused. The spade trembled violently in his hands. He looked down into Katie's eyes: they were a damp, viridescent - like morning dew on a rose leaf. After a deep breath, he shook his head.
"Plea.." Her voice was muffled and faint, and soon Alexander heard nothing.
"I'll come back for you. I promise."
---
Darkness.
Moons passed. Years fell like raindrops and the black net seemed to last forever. It was a farmer, turning earth for his crops, that found the body. When it began to slowly move, writhing in its pit, he dropped his spade and fled.
Katie crawled out of the grave, shielding her face from the blazing sunlight. Her once green eyes were now that of the darkness she'd been prisoner to.
She'd never felt so thirsty - a dreadful, desperate burn that had been building for so long yearned within her. Her torn, rotten, clothes flapped in the wind. She had waited for him - she'd had no choice. Her body had not suffered in the grave, but her mind had been terribly changed.
"I will find you, Alexander," she whispered. The breeze took her words and spread them like seeds across the kingdom.
Far away from the excavated pit, a shiver ran down the new King's spine.
---
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickofnight/comments/66w65a/wp_you_live_in_a_world_where_your_soulmate_is/) | I was used to killing.
You have to be really, it's kill or be killed
you have to get those fucks first or it's game over
I was already covered with blood. Figuratively and literally.
My uniform was soaked from top to bottom, the brown fabric stained in mud, blood and vomit, the rain was definitely doing nothing to wash away the grime
My leaden feet thudded into the ground. Each step was agony but I knew I had to keep moving.
No one likes a bullet through the skull after all.
I made my way to the crumbling building as fast as my legs would take me, squeezing my trigger as I pelted across the drenched ground
The last two shots disappeared into the night. I didn't care if they found a target anymore, I just needed to get inside, to stop moving for just a second.
I released the pistol from my waxen fingers, and drew my knife.
It hurt to move my fingers now. The cold downpour caused every single muscle to ache
I crashed through the broken door, knife held forward, but I stopped abrubtly when I saw the face
Angry?
Pained?
Surprised?
She was scared more than anything, I suppose
I looked down at the blade pressed against my own chest, in against heartbeat I noticed the steel was bent harmlessly across my skin
I smiled.
Yes. I smiled, in a war zone.
I was drenched, cold, sick, fatigued. But I smiled because I knew I'd finally found my soul mate.
I didn't care that she was technically a part of the enemy.
My hand felt warm.
Warm?
Why is my hand warm? I remember thinking
Then I saw the blood. Her blood. Trickling from where my own knife has plunged through her heart
She crumpled at my feet
------------
This is my first ever response to a prompt! I'm on mobile so please forgive typos and formatting
Thanks OP, I hope I did ok
Any feedback is appreciated | 2017-04-22T03:41:57 | 2017-04-22T02:24:17 | 1,155 | 58 |
[WP] After reaching the stars and being accepted into the galactic community, humanity made one of its most shocking discoveries about aliens: They don't have a concept of numbers. | **The Earth Academy of Mathematics for Gifted Aliens**
The wooden door heaved and bent as the force of a hundred bodies pressed against it.
The mob was chanting his name. He sat on the corner of his desk, sweat dribbling down his nose. The ceremonial musket given to him by the American Civil War Historians Society was levelled at the door to his office. The firing mechanism no longer worked, but the steel bayonet was sharp.
Dr. Hugo Snell never wanted any of this. When the Board of Regents initially asked him to come onboard as the first president of the Earth Academy of Mathematics for Gifted Aliens, he had turned them down.
Hugo said it was pointless. Even root-to-stem cultural reprogramming – which has serious ethical downsides – had only seen measured success at introducing numbers to “denumeral” alien cultures, as they’d come to be called in academia.
But after Hugo left that meeting with the regents and walked the streets of Vienna, Virginia, he thought back to his childhood. Hugo was born with a stutter, which made him exceptionally shy and uncomfortable in social situations. Teachers wrote him off as a lost cause. It was only one young woman, Ms. Bonny, who saw the potential in Hugo. She gave *him* a chance and look what happened.
Why couldn’t Hugo give these aliens a chance too?
The door splintered. Hugo gripped the musket tighter.
A year after welcoming the academy’s first class, the project was an abject failure. Not a single student in the entire class made passing grades.
All 250 alien students were dismissed for poor academic performance in one fell swoop. The result was a riot. The main lecture hall was burned to a crisp. Police tried to intervene but the aliens, with a medley of superhuman powers, and holding the spectre of a catastrophic interplanetary diplomatic incident, were unstoppable.
The mob of students outside Hugo’s office were determined to pass this semester, he knew this. But how could Hugo change their grades while keeping his integrity?
He picked up one quiz marked “0/100, F.” The first question was simple: What is 5 + 1? The answer this student wrote? Porridge.
It was true that in this particular student’s home culture, porridge (roughly translated) is arguably a solid answer here. But this is a school of mathematics. They must learn numbers. Hugo wanted to close the academy, rework the entire curriculum, and start afresh with a new class.
If he could survive that long.
A green leg burst through a hole in the door. The screams and jeers from the mob assaulted Hugo’s ears.
“Stay back,” he warned them, “I’ll charge!”
More holes appeared as arms, legs, tails, and tentacles breached Hugo’s final line of defense.
Panting, drenched with nervous sweat, Hugo reached under his desk and pulled out an ancient roman battle helmet, gifted to him by the American Ancient Roman History Institute. He put it on and fastened the leather strap under his chin.
Tightening his bayonet, he said his last words:
“This is your final warning. On the count of three, you better back away from my door, or you’ll get the business end of a bayonet.”
Hugo stood up and assumed the stance of an Aztec spearman, taught to him by his friends at the League of Central American Historians.
“Three…” Hugo said.
“Two…” Hugo blinked.
“One?” said a voice from the other side of the door. The mob fell silent, gasping.
“One!” Hugo blurted out, elated. “Yes, that’s right! One! You got the pattern!”
Hugo threw down his musket, unlocked the door and addressed the stunned students.
“Who said that? Who?!”
The aliens all moved aside, hugging the walls and avoiding Hugo’s gaze. There was shuffling at the back. Someone small was moving closer to him. Hugo watched as people let the creature pass.
Then it emerged: a little purple blob, with two green eyes and a nervous look swirling around on its front facing side.
Hugo grabbed a piece of paper from the floor of the hallway and scribbled something on it. He dropped to his knees and held it out to the alien.
On the paper was a single letter: A.
“Congratulations,” he said, “You, little one, are the first student at the Earth Academy of Mathematics for Gifted Aliens to receive a passing grade.”
“Wow,” the creature said, turning red with pride. "Thank you."
Gathering the creature in his arms, Hugo walked down the hall to the exit. Through the glass door he could see the police line, only a hundred yards away. He turned to the mob.
“The rest of you are dismissed for poor academic performance,” he said before bolting out the door.
The aliens lurched after him, grabbing at his heels, but he was out of there. His shiny roman helmet reflected the afternoon sun, bobbing up and down as Hugo sprinted toward the police.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
r/ididwritethismr | "How many ships would you say your crew has sent?"
"Enough."
"How many crew members are on your ships?"
"Enough."
"How many days have you traveled to make it here?"
"Enough."
The alien representatives sat across the glistening steel table in the commander's room of the starship. Their features were surprisingly humanoid, only the soft green hue of skin, four eyes and different numbers of digits on their hands distinguishing them from the human race. The four eyes look puzzled, as the leader of their intergalactic alliance repeated one word into the auto-translator, "Enough."
The commander sat, just as perplexed in his chair, as Earth's chosen diplomats phrased and rephrased the one question running through everyone's minds. 'How could a civilization not have numbers?'
"What if construction is taking place and a certain count of materials is required? How do the parties specify the amount needed?" a diplomat from the Eastern Hegemony questioned.
"If not enough, we bring more. If too much, we send back. We know if enough." Only the leader figure conversed with the human representatives. The rest sat there, an audience to the landmark moment.
"Isn't there too much inefficiency generated during the process? You'd have parties tracking materials back and forth according to rough estimates." a second diplomat from the Western Legion questioned.
"We know immediately. We all know immediately."
One cultural specialist began whispering to the rest of the human representatives. "I believe they have a sort of hive mind - similar to ants or bees. They live to continue the larger contingent and are able to transfer necessary information almost instantaneously. It might be why only their leader is talking, the rest are essentially drones."
A curious diplomat began another line of inquiry.
"Is there a concept of money in your society? How do individuals obtain things or acquire objects that they desire?"
"Everybody is given enough. Nobody needs more. Nobody wants more." The same puzzled look stared back with four eyes.
"In the event that someone wants more, though, have there ever been fights or conflict?" the curious diplomat pushed forward.
"Fights. We are one and do not seek to harm each other. Nor would we ever seek to harm you."
"Of course. The same holds true for us as well."
The commander quickly called everyone back and spoke in a hushed whisper. "Men we have clear orders from the top. No mention of any sort of conflict is to be made."
The cultural specialist chimed in, "It's as I mentioned before. A hive mind implies that everyone is both themselves and part of the collective. There is no need for an individual to prioritize himself over the greater good."
The lull in conversation seemed an appropriate segue. The commander extended a hand over the table.
"It's been a pleasure conversing with you today, gentleman. Looking forward to continuing our discussions tomorrow."
The alien leader slowly met the commander's grip and its eyes studied his. "We are looking forward to tomorrow, as well."
\*\*\*
Holograms appeared as the leaders logged into their respective systems: the Legionnaire of the West and the Hegemon of the East.
"Analysis of the alien intergalactic alliance, now" commanded the head of the Western Legion.
"A peaceful species. Their technology doesn't far outstrip ours; scientists estimate that we can catch up within months, now that communication lines have been established. More importantly, they seem unfamiliar with the concept of combat, sir."
"A prime target for our newfound alliance, perhaps?" asked the Hegemon.
"There is one catch. It's suspected that they have the ability to almost simultaneously share information amongst themselves. A coordinated strike on all major strategic targets will be crucial."
Smiles framed the faces of the two leaders. They shared the same thought. It was time for humans to impose themselves on the galaxy.
\*\*\**Hours before - during the meeting*
The hive queen took in the thoughts of her chosen representative.
'The humans have inquired how we deal with the allocation of resources.'
A foreign concept to us, but perhaps not entirely reasonable.
'They ask if we sometimes 'fight' to settle differences.'
Fight?
'It seems as though they are suggesting physical combat.'
The queen sighed. Their race was not one that felt the need to harm one another. But they had encountered other species who did find it necessary. The humans would soon learn how frightening it was to have foes that shared a single mind. | 2022-01-04T07:10:40 | 2022-01-04T06:27:55 | 63 | 44 |
[WP] You are Low-Key, the Norse God of really subtle mischief. | Another jump through the Bifrost and I landed on the planet of Acrimony, aka the planet of really bad smelling things. I plugged my nose and went to work.
I collected as many flowers as possible. Some were red, some were purple, some were green, some yellow. They were all quite beautiful.
I stayed for a while just to enjoy the sunset. Actually multiple sunsets because this planet had 4 suns, and so one by one they disappeared. And it got dimmer and dimmer and it turned into night.
It was actually quite lovely.
I strolled back to the pickup point and gave the signal and told the Bifrost operator that I wanted to go to Earth.
5 eon-cycle-seconds later, I was on earth. I took each one of the flowers that I had found from the planet of acrimony and I planted them in some of the most prevalent and prodigious gardens around earth.
Humans really loved smelling flowers, especially for romantic gestures and mate courting rituals.
I smirked and couldn’t wait for my giant practical joke to unfold. I had time. I was a God after all.
My name is Low-Key, spelled L-O-W-K-E-Y and I’m the Norse God of really subtle mischief. | "Fuck! Again?!" I screamed as I dropped yet another object. This has been happening for weeks now, every drink spilled, every small crack tripped on, every item I pick up magically slipping from my grasp. I don't get it! One day I'm fine, the next I just can't even. I think I'm going crazy, maybe I'm cursed... Maybe I'm sick... I don't know how long I can keep going like this | 2018-01-27T22:50:54 | 2018-01-27T22:18:18 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] Instead of trying to get a man on the moon, every nation raced to be the first at the very bottom of the ocean
While we have managed to get to space and the moon we have not fully explored the ocean. Instead of the space race, there was a competition to see who could reach the very bottom.
edit: These are really great! Each of them keep leaving me hanging :) feel free to continue them if you'd like | "Class, why do you think the former US and former USSR rushed to reach the deepest reach of the sea floor?"
Angie had read the text book in the beginning of the year. She loved history, and she couldn't raise her hand up any higher to prove it.
"Billy, what do you think?" Mrs. Hemming picked after a brief scanning of raised hands.
"Ugh, because...ummm...well weren't they enemies racing or something?"
Mrs. Hemming smiled, "Sort of. They were enemies. After World War II technology rapidly advanced and both sides were scared the other would get to far ahead. There was more to it than that though. Anyone else?"
Angie shot her hand up again.
Mrs. Hemming slowly scanned the class again, this time resting her gaze on Angie. "Angie?"
"It was important to reach the bottom of the Marianas Trench because of nuclear bombs. The US and USSR kept making them and things were getting bad."
"Exactly," Mrs. Hemming retorted. "Both sides, and a couple other countries had concluded that nuclear war was inevitable. It sparked a race to create the very technology we have today."
Mrs. Hemming went back to the blackboard and wrote the date 1969, July 16th. "July 16th, 1969 the United States of America publicly aired a manned mission to the trench. It destroyed the morale of the USSR and it would ultimately be the reason the Atlantis Compound would be built. About 20 years later, the compound was finished and the first submersibles were sent down populated with Europe's and America's finest minds and bodies."
Angie, proud of herself, relieved herself of listening duties and looked out the porticulis. The compound outer lights barely penetrated the void, and angie wondered what it was like to live above the surface.
"... and that is why we haven't returned to the surface. It will still be hundreds of years before the fallout clears." The bell rang, signaling the end of class and the beginning of work as the class filed out. | Now that the space race had ended the World needed a new dick measuring contest. Really, it was a chain effect after Russia declared they would be the first to the bottom of the ocean America decided she "needed" to get to the bottom of the ocean for "research." Of course China needed to prove themselves and by the end of this thing the whole world was involved. So who am I? Just a scientist that was forced onto this project, greater good be damned. I would be in the hundredth American crew to attempt to hit the bottom, guess what happened to the other ninety nine? Seriously, you need to guess, because the cameras we had in the ship cut out as soon as we go drop -100000 meters. So of course the government sends more sheep to attempt to do the impossible, for mere bragging rights. I stepped into the ship and examined the insides. There were 10 numbered scuba suits with underwater pistols.
"What do you think were going to find down there" said a perky woman, probably only in her early twenties
"The same thing the other ninety nine crews found" I said under my breath the cynicism of my own voice surprised me.
The Submarine plunged underwater. | 2015-07-15T12:45:01 | 2015-07-15T11:01:58 | 130 | 12 |
[WP] After superpowers start appearing around the world, businesses realize the use of these abilities. People with x ray vision are practically forced into being doctors and people with heat vision work as cooks. You are starting to get tired of your superpower-based job. | "At 2:47 this afternoon, a super-strength unit at the worksite for the new bridge will attempt suicide. He's worked 16 hour days for two straight months, and no one cares. He has a Masters in Biology and he is made to carry I-beams endlessly."
"Keep it short, Mr. Major." A curt reply came.
I scowled his way. "I will continue to give context until you either listen, or find someone whose precognition extends further than mine." I handle an entire city on my own, no way they hassle me on this.
"Whatever. Continue."
I grumbled. "At 3:31 pm, a psychic unit being used for mind control will be beaten by a superior for selling a television too cheaply. They charged 250% retail. If not prevented the unit will release a wave of energy while defending themselves, causing 3 comas and the brain death of their attacker."
"We'll get a team out there to restrain the unit."
"What about their assailant?"
"Continue."
"What about their assailant?"
"Nothing will have happened."
"Son of a-"
"CONTINUE, Precog Unit!"
I took a deep breath. "At 1:46, a precognition unit will kill his Responding Action overseer and escape the precinct. He makes a clean getaway because, of course, he sees everything coming."
"What? But you're the only-" He looked up, into the barrel of the gun I had managed to acquire and smuggle in. They always assumed seeing the myriad ways things can go wrong would dissuade a Precog from taking risks. I had waited long enough to find a solution.
"I'm so tired of snitching on my fellow supers...of calling out you norms and seeing nothing done to THEM. I hereby tender my resignation." I flipped the safety off.
He stammered. "W-wait! Your prediction can't work! You said 1:46! It's already 1:49!"
"Huh...guess I should have mentioned I was using your watch for that particular prediction."
He looked down...1:45:55...56...57...
"...It's a little slow."
**BANG**
Edit: Punctuation fix. Also, thanks for the many kind words. Part 2 will come as soon as I can get to a real keyboard. Mobile is hard to work with. | After the awakening the world was in total turmoil for years. People ran amuck with these new found abilities. Social order had collapsed and civilization had almost gone with it.
But then the corporations came in. They had gained control in this Wild West of a world after the governments had been destroyed. The corps paid well, and they had no one stopping them now, and if they did they had arsenal enough to stop them.
They exploited everyone, no one had a job they wanted. They had the job they could perform. It wasn’t perfect, and by no means was everyone happy, but it had restored order. And middle class and high class society was restored.
The only set backs had been the corporation wars. They were constantly at each other’s throats. Each using the masses as their personal armies.
I had been captured years ago by the power company. I was unfortunately granted the rare and unique ability to produce pure energy, a lot of it. Most people would be excited, having the power of basically a star.
Well I wasn’t excited, I had spent the last five years isolated in tiny cell that sapped new for all my energy worth. For all I knew I was powering the whole world. Sure they kept me alive and fed but I was a prisoner.
The only exited times I ever have are when rival corporations try to assassinate me to get into the power game. I was a one man monopoly for anyone who could get me. Cheapest power available all at the price of one man. It’s so lonely here. | 2020-02-05T17:14:17 | 2020-02-05T14:59:35 | 1,962 | 1,239 |
[WP] "Fuck it." The General said, as the alien mother-ship came in to land. "Summon Cthulhu." | Thursday, September 21, 2017 - 21:00
The General's men got straight to work. Their entire military careers, these specially trained operatives were preparing for this moment: a code R'lyeh.
One soldier was tasked with acquiring the texts to summon Cthulhu, while another went to acquire the proper objects for the sacrificial ceremony. Those left began to set up the sacrificial table as the General looked on.
Within the hour everything was prepared. The General opened the Necronomicon to the proper chapter, nodding to one of his subordinates as they began to light candles and spill the sacrificial blood onto the table. The ship was coming closer, and the lights of the anti gravitate engines light up the sky.
He began to read.
By the end of the first verse of the General's words, the ground began to shake of its own accord. In an instant the candle flickered out, and the sacrificial blood of the lamb was sucked into the ground. A roaring fire appeared over the table, in which a text began to appear amidst he flames.
The General and his soldiers blocked their eyes from the bright light and the heat. As they adjusted, they looked into the flames of Cthulhu at their last chance to save earth from the invaders.
"I'm sorry to have missed your message. I'll be out of the office until the next purported end of the world, September 23, 2017. I won't have cell reception nor access to email, so if you need me in the meantime, you can leave a message with my secretary at..."
The soldiers, dumbfounded, looked up to the General. In the distance the alien ship touched down, bringing with it a fierce wave of destruction leveling all in its path.
"Well, fuck."
| The call had been placed for eons. Cthulhu, his strong influence touching the minds of men, had been trying to summon those who would wake him. Alas, his influence had been hindered by the watchful eye of the worlds governments. Until now.
Faced with the gravest of threats, an alien race who thought letting humanity linger would cause the end of all life in the universe, the governments of earth lifted their world-ender from its slumber.
Rising from the depths of the mysterious ocean, the grave threat to humanity saw the world ending plague about to befall the humans on the earth. It sprung into action, writhing from R'lyeh, Cthulhu the elder guard attacked the threat to *his* planet.
The battle lasted minutes. The armada which had arrived lay in waste. And with the threat to humanity gone, Cthulhu had time to turn his attention where it belonged. To humanity. Nobody razes the earth but Cthulhu. | 2017-09-26T11:47:23 | 2017-09-26T11:22:23 | 168 | 92 |
[WP]Doctors call your condition "Dynamic Cognition". You wake up each morning with a random IQ. Equal chance of being mentally handicapped, or a great genius, or anywhere in between.
The morning alarm is going off. Time to wake up.
Who are you today? What were you up to yesterday? And what's going to happen tomorrow? | The pretty lady said she would be here at 3pm. So I arrived at 2:30pm to be here before her. It is good to stay ahead, my phone told me. The pretty lady said she was excited to go to an amusement park. She said it was a good idea. I'm scared though, because theme parks are fun and dates are scary. It confused me. I was going to cry in front of all the nice people, but my phone beeped again. It said, I was going to be ok. *Enjoy yourself, and check your pockets.* I did. And there was money! When my parents had money, we were always ok. If I had money, then I was going to be ok too! I waited for the pretty lady to come. I wasn't scared anymore.
I liked the rollercoasters best, but my phone told me to take her to a horror house too. My phone is *always* right. So I took her to a horror house, and it was scary, but not as scary as being in the dark. And she was there, so it was fun, even when we were in the dark! I don't know why. My phone was beeping a lot today, and I was glad. Then she asked me why my phone was beeping so much, just like my phone said she would. So I told her it was, um, "colleagues wanting me back at the lab to lead the next trials, can never get a moment from them!" Then I smiled really big. "Like anything can take me away though!" Then *she* smiled really big! I don't know why. *Enjoy yourself, and check your pockets.* I did. And there was money! When my parents--- my phone beeped again. *Good, take her to lunch now. She doesn't mind hamburgers.* So we got food. It tasted even better when she was there.
We then left the theme park. I didn't want to, and my phone wasn't beeping anymore. I was scared at first, but then I got angry. I wanted to ride more! It wasn't fair! But she held my arm and said she felt the same way, but we had to let them close. I pouted, but I wanted her to smile really big again. So I stopped pouting, and held her hand the whole way out. She then smiled really big. Said she was glad I could have so much jenyouin fun! My face got really hot, but the sun was low, and I didn't know what jenyouin meant, and I didn't know what was going on... so I smiled really big too. Her laugh was nice. The pretty lady said she looked forward to next time. I did not want her to go. I pouted. It was better than crying in front of a girl. Then she put her mouth on my cheek and said we could meet tomorrow if I wanted to.
I really wanted to! I really wanted to! I really wanted to! I told her three times! She said good, and she walked away. Just like that. I did not want her to leave, but, I liked watching her go. And smile. And have fun.
My phone beeped.
*Well done Mark. Now, here's how to get home.*
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
More at /r/galokot, and thank you for reading! | Wake up with a random IQ every morning, ranging from mentally handicapped to sky-shattering genius? Sounds like a great power. But in practice my godawful luck ruined everything. For whatever reason, every day I had a test, SATs included, I woke up dumber than a sack of potatoes. Flunked out of high school, no chance of college, I wound up working at Kohl's, where my occasional strokes of genius could garner me little more than a pat on the back from my myopic supervisor.
Sure, there were days that my intellect made the stock market seem like a game of checkers. Then I'd call in sick, put everything on the line, and make as much as I could before the market closed. But the windfalls I made day trading were invariably wiped out on my stupider days, when I fell prey to Nigerian Princes, spent my savings on bounce houses and clowns, and tipped friendly waiters hundreds of dollars. Once I drove my car through a fence and into a swimming pool because I saw a squirrel. Luckily, it was adult swim, and the pool was empty, or I might have murdered somebody. As far as I know, "I was dumb that day" isn't a defense that holds up in court.
My condition made dating a nightmare too. Dumb girls disgusted me on my intelligent days, and smart girls typically resented my tendency to gape slack-jawed at their tits on my dumb days. I'd pretty much consigned myself to a life of misery when I met a sorceress who claimed she had the power to cure me.
"The catch," she said, "is that I can't control how smart you end up. You could wind up plain-old stupid forever."
But I'd rather be stupid and unaware of my own stupidity than intermittently smart. I know plenty of people with that former condition, and most of them are happy. So I'm taking the plunge next Tuesday. Fingers crossed. The lady's only charging me six thousand bucks for the procedure, but she says if I pitch in another two thousand she'll be able to get her money out of a Zambian bank where it's been stuck, and then she'll pay me back in full with a little extra for my troubles. I think that's mighty nice of her. It'll be good to start my new life with a nest egg. I think the first thing I'll do is buy a bounce house.
Whoops, gotta go--that's a *squirrel*! | 2016-02-08T20:52:36 | 2016-02-08T20:51:13 | 121 | 64 |
[WP] Diagnosed with schizophrenia. Since birth, 24/7 you’ve heard the voice and thoughts of a girl that you’ve been told is made up in your head. You’re 37 and hear the voice say “turn around, did I find you?” and you turn to see a real girl who’s heard every thought you’ve ever had and vice versa. | "Turn around. Did I find you?"
I became a stalagmite of dread, paralyzed in place by the voice that reverberated in my head. Clear as the crisp smell of rain on asphalt. Powerful as an shameful orgasm.
I turned around, certain that the Voice -- creatively named, that -- would be naught but my mental illness quixotically tormenting the spinning gears of my mind.
"You did always have a way with words, but Jesus, take a creative writing class once in a while."
I stood, stricken dumb. Additional parts of my psyche and anatomy experienced a cascading series of failures, until I was reduced to "um," "what," and "uhhhhh..." as the entirety of my skillset. She laughed. This astonishing, wildflower-scented, scarlet-haired woman in front of me was *laughing.* I could hear her laughter. Why could I hear her? I've never heard anyone make this sound before; only the Voice had taught me these things.
I signed to her. *Who are you?*
"Wait. You're Deaf? But I -- but I would've known. I should've known, right?" Her jocund 'I've-found-you' smile turned into a mask of confusion.
Taking care to fully form my thoughts as I was signing them, I told her: *Look, I can hear you, but I thought you were the Voice. You're supposed to be living in my head. Why are you real? Why can I understand your thoughts?*
"I'm in the same boat as you, I have nooooo idea. It's kind of stronger in one direction, though. I can only hear yours when you're really close to me, but I can feel you listening to me no matter where I go. That's how I found you, actually. I heard you for the first time, here at Lost Beans. I decided to broadcast myself and see who turned around. I, uh, I had no idea it'd be someone like you, I'll be honest."
*How do you think I feel?*
"Granted."
*What do we do now? I mean, you're the first person I've ever had a verbal, well verbal-ish, conversation with. I don't know what to say.*
She put her hands in mine. "Make some kind of superhero team? I don't know either."
*Maybe we should order some coffee. Come up with our secret identities.*
She laughed. And in an awkwardly cute effort, she slowly signed the phrase: "I'd like that." | The voice... and the face that goes with it
I start to say something, "a-"
She cuts me off
She's saying things, I don't really know what, it's just noise, I'm trying to remember the worst thoughts I've had over the years.
Then the thought slips, "maybe she knows too much, should I kill her?"
She takes a step back, she knows that I thought it
"he's not serious, is he?"
She takes another step back
I don't know if I'm serious, she knows that I dont know if I'm serious, she knows I might be, I dont
I have no plan, she knows I have no plan but it doesnt seem like she has much of a plan either
She takes another step back, looking into my expressionless face, she knows I'm not going to chase her, she runs
She has more than enough thoughts running through our minds for one person and I could swear I have twice as many, it's so loud... there's no break in the storm, just endless,thundering trains of thought with little to no direction compounding on top of one another, I want her to stop thinking but I can't stop on my end, every passing second I remember a thought, I hear her remember a thought, we're rationalizing, we're lying, we know we're lying.
I could handle insanity, but this is too much, simply laying on my bed is exhausting, I need a drink or 12, I need silence
I win I lose, I lose I win, what is there to win?
Time to get acquainted with an empty bottle | 2019-09-14T11:18:09 | 2019-09-14T10:59:27 | 232 | 23 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | 17 years, 364 days, 23 hours, and 56 minutes since I was born. The day is May 15th, 2007. The time is 4:40am. Despite the early hour, the whole house is lit up. My family had breakfast ready and coffee brewed by 4:30. We believe that destiny chooses your career through the summoning, and it is tradition to have a celebration for each summoning in our family. To be honest, I'm scared. What if I summon something stupid, like a deck of cards or a stapler? What kind of a career would a stapler lead me to? Would my family laugh at me? Would they still care about me? Shit. The minutes felt like hours, with my anxiety worsening with each one passing.
4:41am: I look towards my sister, Jamie, who, on her summoning day, summoned a man, Jeff, and they were married within the day. She's a housewife, and that's it. They've had 6 children in 6 years, and she is currently pregnant with the 7th. Still, they, and all of their children, were present for my early-morning birth time. I feel bad for them having to be here, but we all know that it's tradition, and my mother would disown them completely if they were to miss a family summoning.
4:42am: I look to my left to see my younger brother, Justin. He's only 5 years old; by far the youngest sibling. I think he may have been a surprise to my parents. I wondered where I would be when he is ready for his summoning. 13 years is a long way away, and, in my family, we don't make any decisions in our career until the summoning. We let destiny choose our path. So, it was just as much a mystery to me as it was to everyone else.
4:43am: There's my mother, Sharon, and my Father, Jacob, staring directly at me. They are so excited to see what I am "destined" to become. They have high hopes for me. I will be their first son to go through a summoning. It had been a while since the last party, as well. Jamie's was 7 years ago now. I feel like they were initially disappointed that she had summoned a man. It's similar to going to college for an "MRS" degree; it felt lazy. Of course, they remembered that it is not her choice. It's destiny. They welcomed Jeff with open arms into the family, and now they are blessed with 6 wonderful grandchildren. I guess if I summon a woman, it wouldn't be the worst thing. I can't help but worry though. What if she's ugly? What if she's annoying? What if she's my soulmate, but I hate her? Oh, Jesus. There's no turning back once she's here. Shit. Shit. Shit.
4:44am: The time has come. My family is raving with anticipation. As soon as the clock struck, my mother yells, "Here we go, Matt! Show us what ya got!"
I close my eyes, and as I hold my hand out, the room becomes silent. Everyone is looking around, seeing if anything began to budge, but nothing is happening. Am I doing it wrong? I concentrate harder to make something happen, but it seems useless. I'm shaking. Panicking. What if I am the one person on earth that doesn't have a summon? Am I even human? My hand is still out, just hoping for something to happen.
After a couple minutes, we hear a noise outside. A thud. Was that... a person? Would I be the second person in the family to summon a spouse? Would she be pretty? Am I even ready for marriage? Shit, it's happening so fast.
We get up and race to the door. We were right, it's a person. But... it didn't appear to be a woman. Holy shit, am I destined to be a homosexual? Not that that's wrong or anything... I'm just not ready for that! I've always been attracted to women. This couldn't be real.
I decide that I should be the one to go first. The man is laying face down on the ground. I kneel down beside him, and nudge his shoulder. He seems to be in a heavy sleep, or possibly unconscious. I keep nudging, and, finally, he starts to come to. Shit, I'm not ready for this. Am I about to look into the eyes of my male soulmate? Instead of turning around, he begins to vigorously roll back and forth. What is going on? He's rolling faster and faster, face still in the ground. "What the hell?', says my mother. Then, finally, he lifts his head up, still rolling.
It's Rick Astley.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I said. My mother slapped me, saying, "Language!"
We were all standing there, staring at Rick rolling. I know what I have to do. |
Mother and Father stood nearby, looking expectantly at me as I took my place in the center of the rooming facing the great grandfather clock that command the attention of everyone.
Along the edges of the room waited the rest of our family and friends, all in attendance with me as the hour of my birth; 11:59pm, 18 years ago to the minute, neared. Soon it would be time for my summoning. The moment when all those who upon the hour of adult hood will hold out their hand and have their one thing appear. For some a person appears, this who is destined to be your great soulmate and the love of your life, like when my mother summoned my father. For others it is an object of great importance, integral to their life and identity, like our protector Donar Woodenson, the thunder bringer and guardian of humanity, wielding his mighty hammer.
The seconds ticked away as the lights dimmed and our fiends and family leaned in expectantly, I held out my hand like father had taught me. As I did so I felt the power of the cosmos begin to whirl around me as the hour of my birth arrived! The minute hand moved to 11:59 pm, here goes nothing I thought.
And exactly nothing happened!
Aunts and Uncles looked at each other confused; while my younger Cousin laughed at my misfortune, my face burned with embarrassment as I stared at my empty hand confused. Was I cursed, what had gone wrong?
“An ill omen” tittered my great aunt poppy, as she clucked disapprovingly.
“Nonsense” my father boomed, striding across the floor to me.
“Sometimes it just takes a minute or two, nothing to fret about son” he said as the words wrapped around me in comfort like the arm he placed on my shoulder, “why when I was your age…” he started to say but never got the chance to finish for at that moment the great clock struck midnight, the witching hour and the bells inside the imposing temple to father time played there deep and brassy tune.
Suddenly the room was filled with a surge of power that silenced all murmurs as electricity crackled through the air. It centered on me and my still outstretched hand as my father backed away. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I felt the anticipation flow through me. The chimes of the clock turned to thunder, and the air in the room was rent by light as strange shapes of no earthly form appeared before my eyes. The room was pervaded by the deep smell of the sea, a not so pleasant smell of rotting fish and decaying seaweed. Then a hellish sound as if a million souls were crying out desperate in their damnation at losing hope. People clapped their hands to there ears, some falling to their knees, struck dumb by the sound.
Then just as suddenly as it had begun, the ordeal was over, before me holding my hand was a creature of unimaginable horror, with the greenish body of a man, the wings of a dragon, the head of an octopus and the eyes of a demon. CTHULHU!!!!
In my abject horror at the monster I had summoned, I tried to dispel this foul creature, yet before this thought could fly from my head, my summoned creation beheld me in its gaze and my soul fled my body in panic, and my consciousness was shattered by madness, rooting me in place, forced to watch as this Doom of an old god struck down my family who were unable to flee, as his very visage drove sanity from their minds and reduced them to mumbling stupor.
With each death, he grew greater, until his hideous form broke through the roof, he bowed down and almost lovingly scooped me, his unwitting parent into his embrace, as he walked forth into the world, to destroy it and awaken his slumbering brothers beyond the veil of this reality. I could only hope that the defender of man will defeat him, but my son has taken away my hope, my fear, my pain, my joy, and my love, an so I am forced to watch the end that I have summoned through eyes that can now only hold Terror. | 2019-09-18T09:23:25 | 2019-09-18T08:16:27 | 123 | 57 |
[WP]You are the worlds greatest assassin, and nobody has ever seen your face, and always contacted anonymously with a name, face and time. Your next target: your name, your face, 12:00 today. | “Well shit.” She said, staring at the picture in her hand. She had just pulled it out of the unmarked envelope only to find her own violet eyes staring back at her. She flipped the picture over to read what it said.
“Eliza Brown, $42,000. Complete by 12PM”
“Well come on, I’m worth more than that! I’ve killed hundreds in the last month alone!”
“What was that babe?” Her husband wasn’t the brightest man on earth, but she loved him nonetheless. She had been an assassin since she was eight, but John still thought she couldn’t open the pickle jar without his help.
“Oh nothing hon, just practicing for my improv class.” He thought she was a completely normal stay at home wife. Well normal except for the excessive amount of cash she kept around the house. He had asked her about it once, back when they had first met. She told him her rich uncle died and left he his fortune, but he didn’t trust banks so she kept it in cash to honor his spirit. And the idiot believed her.
But what to do about this new development? Someone wanted her head on a spike. Time to find out who, and take them out before they send another assassin to do the job. You would expect an assassin to have more than a few enemies, but this company didn’t work that way. You never interacted with anyone else in the company, not even headquarters knew who you were. Anonymity was essential for them, if no one ever interacted, nothing could be tied back to them. So every employee was assigned a drop box in some busy part of the city, no two boxes in the same building to avoid accidental contact. You got the gig through “grooming” which basically meant you find your own replacement when you’re ready to retire. Preferably orphan children. You raise them into the lifestyle, mentor-mentee style. When the child is fully trained, you disappear into the world with a new identity and all of your riches, never to be seen again. Therefore, you inherit your mentees position. As far as the company is concerned, you’re the same nameless, faceless assassin.
She mulled it over, wondering, ‘who could I have pissed off?’ Then it hit her.
“Hey babe?” She called.
“Yeah?” His voice rang from the kitchen.
“That woman we ran into last week? You know, your ex? What was her name again?”
“Ginger. Why do you ask baby?”
“Oh, I was just thinking of payed her a visit. You know, take her some flowers or something. She seemed nice.”
“Really? I though she was pretty rude to you myself.”
‘Rude is an understatement babe’ she thought. “Well you know how I am about people who don’t like me”
“Right baby, kill ‘em with kindness.”
“Exactly. So, you know where she lives?” | He was the greatest assassin who ever lived.
He killed anyone who required it, dispatched all that needed to be dispatched. There was not a soul who didn't know him as the fear lurking under their beds, as the terror that waited in their closets. There was not a being that ever laid sight upon his maskless visage, not a being that ever heard utterance of his true name. As long as payment matched the weight of their soul, he would chase it down to the ends of the universe to end it's existence.
He erased bosses and subordinates and the elderly and the young. He killed political leaders and clergymen, murdered teachers and babysitters. He eliminated the deepest and darkest evils known to man and vanquished the nightmares and boogeymen that haunted the dreams of children. For all life and unlife was equal in his cold eyes, and there were none who could escape their gaze.
And then came a request, one day, by a child wracked with grief. "You killed my father," he screamed, "the only light in my life. I have a request, greatest of all assassins, and it is that you end yourself!"
For the first time in his life, the assassin felt pause, and a cold wicked smile appeared on his boney lips. "Are you prepared to pay the price?" were the ghastly words to fall from his maw.
"I will," the boy screamed in defiance, "I'll pay every last bit of coin it takes!"
The assassin instead shook his frail head, one lonesome as the night, and with a haunting grin and words dripping poison, he uttered, "My soul is worth no sum of money. The price will be evident only in the years to come."
And in a tick of a clock's second hand, the breathless boy realized he stood before nothing, and he knew instinctually that the deed had been done. What he did not know, however, was the price to be paid, and what would happen to him from then on.
For it was with that simple wish, that the dutiful DEATH was now gone. | 2019-03-02T00:33:50 | 2019-03-01T23:42:47 | 81 | 51 |
[WP] It was only after they invaded that the aliens realized, to their horror, that humans had superior technology in all things, except inter-planetary spaceflight. | We proceeded with the invasion as planned. Interstellar flight had been achieved eons ago, and we were ready to take the mineral rich world, classed Z-8114-XG. The world had inhabitants descended from primates, and with their appalling stances, pitifully inept space programs, and inferior communications devices they would be easy prey. The Exalted One called for the plan to move forward, and into the void we launched.
Except there was one problem. We failed to consider that while the beings known as homo sapiens did not concentrate on space travel, that they sat idly by. No, they became masters of warfare. They perfected their weapons, tuning them to be as efficient as possible. But I was not worried. We were the elite, the best trained *I'Ni Haldrac* warriors that the Exalted Army could provide. We started with a standard formation, armed with our finest blades and bangtubes. A load of quick burning powdered *Ixporum* would launch a *Chak’T* nut at velocities hard enough to crack the carapace of any attacker! I rallied up my fellow warriors, only to come face to face with our first human targets. They were dressed in tan clothing that covered from head to toe. On their feet, crude hide leather boots caked with sand. And in their hands was the pitiful thing the human called a “carbine”. Hell, our bangtubes had much bigger ammunition!
We launched the first volley after the lead human reached a hand out. It was a gesture of war! And I was enthralled with the ability to respond. The bangtubes were working flawlessly, and as I watched the nuts sail towards their targets, I was almost vibrating with glee… This would be over shortl-
They bounced off. The damn nut bounced off of the green pocketed vest the human wore! He raised his own “carbine” and with a muted pop, my bravest bangtube warrior was lying on the floor, writhing in agony. The rest of the humans raised their carbines, and fired as well. I can tell you, I prayed for the Exalted one…. It hurt like the fire of a thousand suns encased in my chest. As I stared up at the human warrior, I could make out a name…. US MARINES. ALL of the human warriors had US MARINES on their clothing. They must operate off of a hive mind, or maybe they were clones. I didn't care at this point. I reached up with a portable bangtube, but the human effortlessly kicked it out of my grasp.
He slung his “carbine” over his shoulder and started talking into his primitive talkbox. I could understand only a small fraction of the language, but I distinctly heard Area 51.
I knew that name. It was a penal colony, a POW camp for other species who took the initiative to attack the humans. And as I looked around I could see the other warriors were dead. At least they died fighting. Myself, I was in for a long, long stay.
| It's been 1720 days since they arrived. I don't think they were expecting the resistance they would encounter when they first dropped out of the sky that otherwise normal May morning, but they are a resourceful bunch. Too resourceful. All they have on us is numbers, and sometimes, that's all the resources you need.
We first detected their ships accidentally, one day. Apparently some scientists were using some kind of new technology to be able to detect metals on far away objects, such as the moon or other planets in the solar system.. I don't know. Anyway, there it was, two giant ships suddenly appear just past mars. No one knew what to think - is this real? 6 months it took them to get from Mars to orbit around Earth.. and then the real horror began. Thousands upon thousands of these beings emptied from the bellies of these ships like flies from a corpse poked with a stick. They fought with their claws. Carapace like iron. No technology to speak of - I suppose they never really had to develop weapons to do their fighting for them.
Fortunately for us, we have spent the last few hundred years fighting each other, it didn't take long for our military experts and scientists to sort out an easy way to kill them - only needed a few corpses to play with and there we had it; depleted uranium rounds worked great, but there was a limited supply of those. AP rounds were the next best thing, we had LOTS of those.
Anyway, fast forward four years. We would have won a long time ago but they breed so damn fast. Furthermore they seem to come out of their.. gestation egg.. already knowing how to fight. We ran out of ammunition about 8 months after they showed up and true to our nature, science took over and developed all kinds of new ways of using our natural resources as weapons. From water jet sentry turrets that are as good as lasers at short range to actual lasers. Luckily for us, the only thing their ships appear to be good for was bringing them here, and floating around in orbit being useless. Even their landing vessels are useless. If they could have simply picked up their troops and dropped them strategically they might have had a chance but no. | 2014-10-17T10:09:34 | 2014-10-17T10:04:02 | 46 | 29 |
[WP] At birth every one gets a number assigned to them which determines their threat to humanity. You are number 1,039,474,023. Your newlyborn son is born. His number is 1. This number has never been seen before in all of history. | Society has changed a lot in the past 20 years... and not for the better. There has been so much widespread panic over security and terrorism, that we have abandoned our freedoms.
After the mapping of the neural pathways was successfully completed, a program called Destiny (not the game) soon followed. Destiny is a brain scan that plays out every possible event and outcome in your life, and averages all of the possibilities to generate a threat level. What this means is that, even if in .01% of outcomes you become a crazed murderer, your average will still be good.
Personally, my number registered somewhere around 1 billion, and my wife Karen is in the 3.2 billion range, so we're both considered *safe*. Anyone under 200 million is subject to near constant surveilance.
After about 3 years of happy marriage, Karen and I were about to have our first kid. The birth was normal, but nothing I want to get into detail about. The only thing we had to do was wait for the scans and tests to come back, and we would be all set to see our baby. Personally, I was more nervous than excited, but the looks of joy on my wife's face made it worth it for me.
"Honey, the test results are here" I said, as the doctor walked back in holding a clipboard. The look on his face was what got me. It didn't show anything was wrong, but something about it looked... *confused?*
I asked the doctor if something was wrong, and he looked at me with sad eyes, and said "I'm sorry. Your son is dead"
I was shocked at the news. When he was born he was healthy, appeared healthy, and had no problems... so how could he be dead?
The doctor looked at my wife and I apologetically, but then broke down crying. He thrust the clipboard towards us, where the average threat level displayed a #1, followed by the message "terminate immediately".
I handled the loss pretty well, but my poor wife couldn’t deal with it. For months after his death she would just stare blankly at the wall. Every so often she’d go out to bars and drink her sorrows away or go grocery shopping. It seemed like today was one of those days.
I sat down on my sofa and turned on the news. The major breaking story today was of a terrorist attack at the nearby hospital. The whole building was burned to the ground after an apparently violent shooting. At least 250 dead, over 2000 with minor wounds and many more in critical condition. Yeesh... that sounds horrible. As I was watching the news I heard the sound of keys turning, and Karen walked into the house. "Hey honey, have you seen the news? The hospital was burned to the ground in a terrorist attack." I told her.
She replied saying she hadn’t seen it and quickly went back to putting away the groceries.
On her shoulder there lay a single piece of ash.
| Sweat dripped its way down the brow of a short, portly man dressed in belted denim trousers and a shirt two sizes too small. His receding hairline revealed a bald patch, which reflected the harsh white lights of the maternity unit. Beeping machines and crying children sang together in a sickening dissonance, destroying any hope of joy this new father yearned to attain. A thin woman lay in a bed beside him, her skin a cold pale white that rivalled the clinical surfaces of the room in which they mourned.
The other families in the unit ignored the couple, far too focused on their own happiness to notice the grief painted on their faces. A number was recited by a doctor to each of the new parents, a procedure that traditionally accompanied a birth. Most were far too large to be remembered, numbering in the billions, yet a single digit was all to be told to the small worried man in the corner of the room.
Every stage of grief appeared to play out among the couple in an instant, any words they said being held in their throats by the well of tears they tried so desperately to hide. The doctor that had dared to say their son was the most dangerous being on earth suffered the wrath of the father, earning a large lump and broken arm for his cheek. Eventually the man calmed down, and acceptance had began to shed its light on the pair. The military had already taken their baby; they were helpless, as if they were newborns themselves.
The two became infamous in the weeks following the historic birth, and rarely did their faces not sit below the shocking headlines of tabloids and magazines. Paparazzi followed their every step, trying to find whatever nugget of scandal they could in the couple's life. 'The Crooked Child,' as many papers had taken to calling their son, rested in a watery grave at the bottom of the Pacific, never to endanger the people he had been prophesied to destroy, with what little life he had lived being lost to the sands of time. | 2016-03-29T00:52:58 | 2016-03-28T20:08:38 | 97 | 10 |
[WP] When a person turns 18. they get to pick a statistic. For the rest of their life, they will know this statistic about anyone they meet (lies told, days left alive, etc.) | Three days before my eighteenth birthday I was assigned a time to go to the Department of Statistics and get categorized. The same as everybody else. The process of categorization was dull and rote compared to the benefits of being in The System. Everyone wanted to be in The System and everyone got their Statistic on their eighteenth birthday. The voice on the phone outlined what I'd have to do. Go to the DoS building in the Slothrot district. Take a verbal and written test. Talk to your assigned Numerologist. Get assigned your Statistic.
I'm not exactly sure how The System works. No one really talks about it, they just get their Statistic and go about their lives. It's a social experiment that's become bureaucracy. But it changes you. It changes your relationships and your attitude and who you really are. Getting your Statistic means that you get to know one aspect of every person you'll ever know. You can know how many lies they've told, how many days they have left until they die, how many people they've loved or killed or fucked. You get to learn one thing—about every person you've ever met or will meet. Everyone learns something different, but everyone gets to learn something.
You do not get to choose what you learn. You get categorized, have your implant installed, and one day a number pops up next to everybody's heads. It's not really there, the number. It's just a visual representation of what you've learned.
How can it not change you? Say you learn that your father has raped three people. Or you learn that your Mother has tried to kill herself—twice. Or you learn that your best friend has only 6 days left to live. You do not get to choose what you learn. You get assigned your Statistic, go back to your boring, comfortable life, and one day you're a completely different person.
My Statistic was sexual partners. For most of my life I've seen it as a shit categorization. I didn't want to know that my Mom's slept with fourteen people. I didn't want to picture my first serious girlfriend with her four previous partners, or any girlfriend for that matter. Every time I met a girl and saw their number I wanted to vomit. A constant reminder of every man who wasn't me. It's ruined most of my relationships. Every time I explained my Statistic the girl would become numb, static. They became unresponsive. They didn't like me knowing about that aspect of them. I was lonely for a long time.
And then one day in my late twenties I met Anna and I could see past her number, I could see who she really was and not focus on who she had been with. She was amazing. We had our similarities but we also complemented each other in really interesting ways. She made me laugh so hard that I couldn't breathe. I just loved being around her. We dated for five years and on our wedding night I saw the seven floating next to her face and knew that the seven didn't define her. She had chosen me.
Anna and I never talked about our Statistics. Most people never told anybody. Knowing what other people learned about you made people paranoid and awkward to be around. It was better to ignore it and pretend it didn't exist. All the magazines said that spouses shouldn't know each other's Statistics, anyway.
It was hard, sometimes. When our daughter, Ashley, told us she was sleeping over a friend's house and then came home with a neon one next to her face I nearly killed her. She was only fifteen. The nausea returned. But Anna, she was so understanding. That's why I loved her. She calmed me down and had the three of us sit in the living room and we talked about safe sex and told Ashley we'd get her birth control. She told our daughter that sex wasn't something to casually give away. It was something that needed to mean something to both parties. It had weight. Ashley was becoming an adult and it terrified me. I dreaded seeing her number go up over the course of her life. It could only get worse.
That night, in bed, Anna's seven barely registered. All I saw was her face in the darkness. All I heard was the love of my life telling me that the best we could do was instill a set of morals in Ashley that would guide her through life and help her make the right choices. We couldn't make those choices for her. And she was right. Ashley was a good person. Depending on her categorization, she'd probably turn out okay.
The numbers faded into the background. When I saw the mailman's thirty-seven, I barely made a note of it. It was thirty-three the week before. When I saw the grocery store cashier's zero, it didn't make an impression. When I saw Ashley's new boyfriend's number go up one while hers stayed the same, I felt bad for her, but didn't say anything (to her, anyway). I did, however, threaten the boyfriend and although she was upset about the breakup for a few weeks I think I did the right thing. For the most part I was ignoring my Statistic and it was working for me.
Then came the most beautiful day. My forty-eighth birthday. I woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs and coffee. The perfect smell to wake up to. The thermostat was at seventy and after checking the weather I saw that it was eighty-five outside. Maybe Anna and I could go to the beach. Perfect weather for it. Not a cloud in the sky. Birds chirping and dogs barking, all that shit. It was a pitch perfect cliché but I was young (ish) and happy and it was my birthday, goddamnit.
Anna worked late the night before and I couldn't remember when she had gotten home. She slept at the office, sometimes. She said she'd take a personal day today and I couldn't wait to see what she had planned. I walked down the stairs and the smell of coffee was so strong I woke up considerably. The smell of bacon grease was so prevalent that I felt fatter for having smelt it. Anna's back was to me and I walked up, hugging her from behind and startling her so badly she dropped the plate she was washing. She turned, smiling and kissing me and ushering me over to the table to eat. Everything was perfect. We both sat down and I finally took a long, hard look at my wife.
"Happy birthday, sweetie," she said. "I have the best day planned for us."
Next to her face was the number eight.
| "Is he awake?" Barbara Kendrick, Bill's daughter, stood outside the elegant double doors of her elderly father's bedroom nervously. Bill's nurse nodded.
"He's been asking for you."
Barbara took a deep breath and grasped the curved gold-plated door handle and silently pushed it open. Her footsteps were muffled on the plush burgundy carpet, but her dad heard her coming anyway. He struggled to sit up, his frail figure dwarfed by the huge cushy bed in his favorite bedroom. Machines beeped and whirred as they monitored his health. Barbara wondered if he realized just how little time he had left.
"Barb, my dear! It's so good to see you." Bill smiled as cheerfully as his weakened state would allow him to. Barbara smiled back at him, avoiding his eyes. His remaining life flashed through her mind anyway. Fifteen minutes. She'd known since her eighteenth birthday, when she chose her Stat, that her father was going to live a long life. At first, it had seemed a blessing; a relief. Barbara was free to travel the world, knowing that she had a good long time before her father would need his only child again. As his time drew nearer, it became a curse; the elephant in the room she tried to avoid. She used it as an excuse to stay away, so she wouldn't see his deterioration. She knew he'd be well taken care of. Her father was very wealthy, and could afford the luxury of dying peacefully in his mansion, being given the best health care available. His wealth had all come from his chosen Stat.
As if he could sense her train of thought, he joked, "You've come to ask me about my Stat. How much would you bet that you can guess what it is?" He tried to laugh, but quickly dissolved into a coughing fit that had her rushing to his bedside.
"Dad, lie down. You're not strong enough to sit up. I'll pull up a chair and we can talk."
Barbara dragged a heavy, ornately carved chair to the bedside and sat down, crossing her legs and putting her hands in her lap patiently. Thirteen minutes or not, she knew that her father wouldn't be revealing anything before he was good and ready. He was like that. He loved teasing people, being a natural born trickster. Pulling a good joke had always been his favorite thing in the world.
Bill looked at her with a sparkle in his eyes. "Are you ready to become the second person ever to learn how I've made so much money?"
Barbara couldn't help but laugh and roll her eyes a little. "I know how you made all your money, Dad. You're famous. The Man With The Secret Stat. I know the story well. Grandma kicked Grandpa out of the house the week before you turned eighteen because of his gambling addiction. When you turned eighteen, you chose your Stat and left home, touring in sideshows and making a killing betting people they couldn't guess what your chosen Stat was. What I don't get is how you managed to avoid people who's Stat was knowing what other people's Stats were."
Bill looked like he was going to laugh, thought better of it, and instead cracked a wide grin, which Barbara was sure took all of his effort.
"That part is easy, Barb my dear. I asked if you were ready to become the second person to learn my Stat. The only other person who knew was your mother. She and I met on my first tour with the circus. Her Stat was the ability to know what other people's Stats were, and in exchange for part of my profit, she was able to flush out any potential cheaters. Our partnership started off as purely business, you know. After years, she and I fell in love. You know the rest."
Barb couldn't help but glance uneasily at her watch. Six minutes. She felt like they should be talking about more important things, but she knew her father had something up his sleeve to get a final laugh, and that he believed delivery was key. She was sure he somehow knew that at this rate, this was going to be his last opportunity to deliver a good punchline.
Bill continued, taking a break every few sentences to catch his breath. "For years, your mother and I traveled together, making money off of people who bet me they could guess what my Stat was. Not a single person ever guessed correctly. We saved up until we had more than enough to live a luxurious, happy life, and then settled down to enjoy ourselves. You're really going to get a kick when you hear what my Stat was."
Barb leaned forward. Three minutes.
"You know, Barb, it really broke my family up when my dad gambled away all our money. I never wanted you to have a life like that. I never wanted you to feel the betrayal of a parent who had an addiction to gambling. Are you sure you don't want to guess what my Stat is?"
Two minutes.
"Barb, my dear, I decided to take the thing that had ruined my life and turn it around so I could make a good life for my family. And here we are. I don't regret a single thing. You're never going to guess, so I might as well tell you."
One minute.
Bill's eyes began to flutter shut as he faded. His final, whispered words were, "My Stat was the ability to see how much money a person would bet that they could guess my Stat."
Bill's heart monitor flat lined and Barbara stood up, tears in her eyes and a small smile on her face as the nurses rushed to his room to revive him. She slipped out quietly, already knowing it would do no good. Her final comfort in her father's death would be knowing he had died grinning, having told the punchline of the time he pulled a fast one on the entire world. | 2014-08-11T10:58:54 | 2014-08-11T07:14:47 | 37 | 24 |
[WP] As the child of a villain and a famous hero, you're either loved or hated in both the hero and villain circles depending on who you ask. Your family has received numerous threats and letters over the scandal. Once you get kidnapped, you dread finding out if your captor is a villain or a 'hero' | Please be a villain.
Asia's eyes were concealed by a face mask, and as far as she could tell - enhanced senses, courtesy of her father, the rescue hero Sonar - in a warehouse of some sort. She'd been kidnapped before, hell, her mother Charon ran in dangerous circles and practically forced her to develop a plan for these sorts of situations, but there was one thing they never accounted for.
Please be a villain.
Asia was morally grey. She wasn't quite like either Sonar or Charon - fitting, given she was usually the one getting them to compromise - but she still didn't want to be actively evil. She defended herself, and ultimately she would defend herself against anyone, even against the likes of heavy hitters like Home-run and Triple Threat, the most famous hero and villain in the world - but that wasn't who had her now. She could tell, because of the footsteps approaching. They were the wrong size.
Please be a villain.
She was tied down with steel cables - a futile attempt to keep her from being able to break out - but she could still speak. "Please let me go. My father has more important things to do, and mom promised she wouldn't kill anyone this week.
"You think you're in the position to make demands?" He asks, sneering at the girl.
"I'm trying to be nice." She repeated her request, her voice steady, but shaking just a little.
"You're fuckin scared. I can hear it. Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna call your father and tell him to come here."
As the man detailed the plan, she continued asking him to let her go. Let me go. Let me go. Calmly each time, but each time a little less so - her voice would waver and shake with emotion, emotion someone unfamiliar with her and the powers she'd inherited might confuse for weakness.
"Let me go. Let me go let me go let me GO!"
The cables snapped like ribbons when she pulled. She didn't even pull that hard - it looked like she was just standing up regularly on the edge of a pool, or after reclining in a rocking chair. It quieted her captor immediately. Her eyes were still covered, but she didn't need them - she grabbed the man's wrist with enough force to break it.
Please be a villain.
"What makes you think you have the right to lure my father here with me? Did you think I'd just go along with it? Did you think I was too weak?" She asked, the bones in his arm cracking from the force of her grip. He was screaming now - she had to take off the mask to be able to see now. Loud noises messed with her senses.
Her eyes were glowing a bright, deep purple. A look of anger was on her face, and when she saw the insignia on her captors chest, she felt her heart break a little inside. Her mother taught her well, but she never taught Asia how to hold back or control her temper.
She was going to kill a hero. | I am the bastard child of Shadow-Rush the world’s most infamous villain and Collision-Course the world’s greatest hero and after my birth my mother Collision-Course retired for being a superhero and my father Shadow-Rush retired from his life of villainy and started a calm, normal life with each other and married each other when I was three but throughout my whole life I’ve heard my dad’s old friends, that also retired, telling him how the villains had no idea how to feel about me but that they we’re basically split on wether or not they hated or loved me and it’s the same with the heroes according to my moms old friends. Lately while sneaking around my parent’s room I found numerous anonymous letters to them with threats of harm to them or me and threats of kidnapping me I didn’t get to read that many before my mom walked in luckily I could activate my
Shadow-Melt before she saw me, I’m feeling really bad for all the trouble I’m causing my parents and I have no idea what to do about it.
THREE DAYS LATER AT SCHOOL
“Mr.Tark may I use the restroom” Mr.Tark sighed it’s was Derek asking the son of Shadow-Rush and Collision-Course and he hated Derek because he thinks he the reason his favorite superhero retired “Ya sure you can” Derek knows Mr.Tark hates him so he just left without a word. Done pissing Derek headed back to class but as soon as he stepped out side of the door he dropped to the floor.
Derek woke up tide to a chair, with a splitting headache, but worst of all with some guns in his face, these guns were made by The Tinkerer so I came to the conclusion that a hero kidnapped me I guess I gotta get out of here now I thought as I lifted his entire warehouse up with my Gravitational Switch power I got from my mom and slammed it back down but I shadow melted away right before the collision and saw everything crumbled and everyone die, in that moment I made a silent vow to kill every jackass hero, and if that makes me a villain so be it. | 2022-06-25T03:21:58 | 2022-06-24T17:08:09 | 45 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone is born with blond hair. A person's hair turns brown when they lose their innocence.
Edit: Loving all of these takes, guys! Definitely a lot darker than I expected! | "Amanda, get back here...NOW." Jerry was almost shaking with anger as his daughter shuffled back into the kitchen, having just rushed by her father on her way to her room. Absent-mindedly, she tucks a lock of her dark hair behind one of her ears.
"Dad, look, let me explain..." The 16-year old stammers, holding her hands up defensively.
"No! You listen to me!" A rage Amanda had never seen before seemed to contort Jerry's face, and she swore she saw flames in his eyes. Like, REAL, flickering hellfire-type flames. "It's that boy, isn't it? Jared or...or Johnny, or whatever the fuck his name is!"
"It's Josh, Da-..."
"I don't give a FUCK what his name is, look what he did to me little girl! My precious...my INNOCENT little girl! He's gone and stolen that away from you, and for what? A few minutes of fun? Did either of you even stop to think what sort of repercussions that might have? What people might think of you? No, of course not. It's just ALL fun and games with you two, isn't it?"
"Dad, seriously, just hold on a secon-..."
"Shut up, Amanda! Just shut up. You're not seeing him again, do you hear me? Never...and dating? Hah, you can just forget about that! As far as I'm concerned, you're officially a nun, got it? I don't want to see you with a boy, I don't want to hear about you hanging out with a boy, I don't even want to hear the WORD boy until you're forty!"
Amanda slams something onto the kitchen counter. A small, rectangular box with a woman modeling her salon-styled brunette hair on the front.
"Hair dye, Dad. It's winter, brunette is in." | "Hey mark, mind taking care of this?"
"Sure!" I turn smiling towards him. I'm the only guy in the office who still has blonde hair after all these years, people called me ignorant, and I had been taken advantage of more times than I could count. And that was fine, I didn't really care. It still bothered me that they thought I was ignorant of the evils of the world though. I had probably been more exposed than most--this platinum hair signaling my gentle nature-- I just didn't let it bother me, in fact nothing really bothers me. I guess for this reason I'm weird, but I can always see the other person's side, no matter how bad it gets-- A true objective, and I just can't bring myself to strike back.
So through all these years I had endured beatings, cheating spouses, isolation, and I didn't care because I could rationalize anything.This is a story about the day I lost my blonde hair. | 2014-05-10T20:26:40 | 2014-05-10T16:16:39 | 44 | 18 |
[WP] You bring home a girl. She wants to see the "1" you talked about that shines on your floor. Only now it says "2." It stays like this for years together until one day, it says "4." She says, "Hon, I have some good news. But you should sit down."
Inspired by this post
https://www.reddit.com/r/mildlyinteresting/comments/ilfsl7/_/ | The glowing number "1" on the floor, while albeit odd and unnatural, quickly became an innocuous part of everyday my life. It was subtle and you could only notice it if you were looking. The number was etched into the floor of my closet, and proved resistant to all attempts at being removed.
After taking up the better part of a week's energy, I decided to put it out of my mind. It wasn't harming anyone or thing, as far as I could tell. So I just let it be.
Not long after, I met... *her*.
She was a dream come true. Sweet, kind, funny and sarcastic, smart, and of course, beautiful. I thought it was too good to be true, but we quickly became close, first as friends, then lovers.
I decided to tell her about the "1" one day, and she didn't believe me. So I showed it to her. Only, to my astonishment, it had become the number "2" instead. We came to the natural conclusion.
A couple years passed, and I fell more in love with her every day. She was perfect in every way, and our life felt so right. I was planning on proposing, and had even gone out and bought a ring with my pitiful salary.
It was while I was hiding it that I noticed the "2" had become a "4". A wave of cold, nauseating dread washed over me. The only way the number could have doubled...
I ran to the bathroom, digging through the trash. There it lay, at the bottom- a positive pregnancy test.
She walked in as I was staring at it.
"Oh, honey, you found it! How did you know to look? Isn't this exciting, we're going to be parents! I know we haven't talked about it yet, but if you want this, then I do, too."
I just stared up at her, the proof of her lies in my hands. They curled into fists, the plastic creaking.
"I'm sterile." | First it was one until the day I brought her over it changed to two and stayed that way for years until that fateful day... I walked in from the backyard wiping the dirt from my hands as she said to me "hon I have some good news, but you should sit down" her eyes looked hollow and void of life. "What is it?" "I-I did it finally" she said tears forming in her eyes. "Is that why the numbers changed? Baby I'm proud of you". "What do you mean they changed? I thought it only counted for you?" "No it's a revenge count for everyone in the house." "Then why does it say four and not..." she trailed off realizing she didn't need to ask as I looked towards the backyard quickly. "It had to be done after everything." She knew exactly what I was talking about and sighed as she saw my relief. "Does it ever get easier to do?" "Not really you just find ways to deal with it." I held her in a tight hug, kissed her forehead, pulling away saying, " Come on let's go get you some nuggets and fries." | 2020-09-03T01:25:54 | 2020-09-03T00:55:08 | 976 | 31 |
[WP] A zombie apocalypse has broken out and much to the dismay of the zombies, their flesh is surprisingly tasty and has addictive properties, leading to humans actively charging at zombies and devouring them as their undead brethren watch in shock. | "Hey kids! It's me, Rombie the DARE Zombie. Your teachers asked me to come give this speech here at Noshington Middle School today to tell you that eating zombies is totally not cool.
"You're in middle school now, and you may hear kids talking about eating zombies, but I'm hear to let you know that it's okay to say no. If a stranger, a friend, or even a family members asks you to take a bite out of rotten writhing flesh, to scoop out the entrails of a zombie who's been chained to a dinner table, or to go out and hunt down a recently-turned human with nothing more than your own bare hands, just say no!
"Other people may think you're not 'cool' for eating zombies, but you know what's really cool? Maintaining autonomy over your brain. Having most of your teeth and all of your tongue intact. And of course, not infringing upon the rights of a minority by eating them, no matter how tasty they may smell.
"So kids, remember, just say no to zombie flesh! Zombie free is the way to be… arg! Stop it! Get your teeth off my damn leg you brat! I'm not a real zombie, I'm just a guy in a suit, goddamnit! Someone scrape this kid off me!"
*****
Come write prompts together at the [ScottWritesStuff](https://www.reddit.com/r/ScottWritesStuff/) Twitch stream! | At first they hunted us, and we fled, and we died. Pop culture had conditioned us to fear them, to "aim for the head", to hole up, ride it out, to wait for the army.
It took a very, very hungry person to be the first to try it. I mean, who in their right mind would willingly cook and eat a zombie?
The weird thing is... they're fucking delicious, and once you pop, you can't stop. It's like The Hunger on overdrive. Nothing else even compares.
Oh, look... there's one over there.
Perfect.
I was starting to get hungry.
| 2018-09-26T20:42:23 | 2018-09-26T16:51:03 | 61 | 43 |
[WP] The detective looked at the evidence. A naked body. A block of cheese. The passenger door from a Volvo. Two gold teeth. And a Led Zeppelin album. It all fit so perfectly. He knew who did it. | The detective's heart sank as he ascended the subway stairs. On each stair, another message, a sick clue left by the murderer. And there, just before the stairs hit street level, in the green glow of the Seven-Eleven sign beyond, lay the naked body of another victim.
"Talk to me" he barked to the officer on the scene.
"Victim is an Edward Kepman. 38, married, didn't arrive home last night after work. Wife had reported him missing. The crime scene is just bizzare boss, we been racking our brains, but it just makes no sense." The officer looked down at his notes.
"Let's start with this" The officer pointed down at a round roll of cheese. "Sally from forensics tells me you call a chunk of cheese like that a log."
"Anyone know the type of cheese?
"I believe it's Jack cheese, Sir. You know, like Monterey Jack."
"Right... next" He stepped over the marmalade and set of golden dental grills.
"No idea what to say about these, sir. Grills, like those worn by rappers? And marmalade. Placed in the middle of the stairs, so we have to step over them?"
"And finally?" He said, looking at the final clue on the final stair before the body.
"Well, this might just be the strangest one. The door of a Volvo S40 sedan."
"Right, and you say the vic's name is Ed. Ed Kepman." The detective was deep in thought. He seemed to be humming to himself.
"I've got it on record as Edward, sir, but yes. Why?
"Well, for a start..." The detective reached down and picked up the car door. It rattled. "I knew it!" he said "The Rattle of a Volvo Door."
"Next, I'm going to hazard a guess and go with "Over the Grills and Marmalade. And then a Jack Log. I hate to say it, but this is clearly the work of the serial killer, The Rhymer."
"The Rhymer, sir?"
"This psyco's got a thing for British rock bands and bad rhymes. Keep searching, I bet you'll find a Led Zeppelin CD somewhere."
"Uh, we actually did find one, not too far away, bagged it for evidence but we thought it was just lost or discarded in the subway. How the hell did you know?"
"Ed Kepman? Led Zeppelin. The cheese - a Jack Log - rhymes with their hit 'Black Dog'"
The detective spun around, pointing at the golden teeth insert and marmalade... "And here we have 'Over the Hills and Far Away' or in this case, 'Over the grills and marmalade.'"
He was almost enjoying himself now. "Finally, 'The Rattle of a Volvo Door' - this one's a little weak if you ask me... but it must be 'The Battle of Evermore."
"That's amazing! When did you know? How did you put it all together so quickly?"
"I actually had my suspicions the minute I arrived and noticed the vic had been laid out 'Climbing the Stairway to the Seven-Eleven".
| – Steve, open up!
– Go away!
– Hey, we're very worried, there's someone named Mr. Simon, a detective who wants to talk to you.
– Miss, пожалуйста, if you allow me to take it from here... Sir, it is a friendly visit and totally off the record. Also, I've got something that belongs to you.
– I know of no records and do not want to communicate with anyone!
– But sir, you most definitely have heard of shootout near the mansion a couple of hours ago!
– Maybe...
– Perhaps, you have heard that a red-colored body of brutish proportions have been found near to what appears to be a torn shopping bag, and a torn-off passenger door from a Volvo passenger car, with gold teeth embedded in a large dent on the side?
– Well, he could've hurted somebody, so I acted fast. He had this funny tattoo, though...
– Indeed, he was an agent of that organization. I was told so before rather grim men with black-and-white eagle emblem on their uniforms carried the body away. Let me tell you the story and you will correct me. On the parking lot of a shopping mall, a scrawny bold man was shouting obscenities in German and English, spitting saliva from the shiny mouth of his. You decided to intervene and approached with calming words, I would have expected nothing else from you. The angry little bold man then suddenly injects himself from a rather large syringe, throws both fists in front of him and freezes in shock. And then, he started to grow in size, gaining approximately five feet in all three directions, ripping his clothes off, screaming incoherently and swinging his arms wildly. So you casually rip off a door from a car and throw it towards that hulk of a man, knocking him out. Was that right?
– Yes, mister... err...
– Call me Joseph. But the next thing is quite a mystery to me. Why did you run from the scene?
– THEY came. From all around, snapping their devices, shouting, pulling, shoving photos and books, chanting...
– Ah, THEM! Well, that explains quite a lot. Actually, I suppose your supervisors have settled everything already. And this belongs to you. Why English heavy metal?
– My pal from the UK gave me a list on what should I catch up since, you know...
– Right then! I will be taking my leave. I suppose my colleague owes me a beer now. | 2014-09-09T23:56:03 | 2014-09-09T23:54:46 | 669 | 10 |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | I must have looked pretty shady, but everyone does in this neighborhood. So nobody even questioned or made a second glass as I walked through to the backyard of the suburban two flat.
I read the note again "he always leaves the back window unlocked, we took care of the dog"
Whew, good, I hate dogs.
I moved right in to the wooden porch over looking a huge backyard sprinkled with various toys that were never cleaned up
"Oh shit Little Jimmy has a kid?" I whispered to myself as I fumbled with the window. I never remembed Little Jimmy having one while he was with the Sardinos, but life can move fast I guess.
I slipped through the window and into a lavish kitchen. A little too lavish for what I knew about Little Jimmy, but maybe his wife whipped that outta him.
I made a quick check through the house, every room with the fanciest appliance or furnishing you could think off, and I dialed the Bosses number.
"Are you in" he said gruffly
"Yeah, Little Jimmy got straighted up"
"Dont matta now, you know what to do. Even if his family is there, hes gotta pay"
He hung up. But my mind kept wondering. Something seemed strange. I went up stairs a bit more sliently, since I didnt know if anyone was up there, and poked around more.
I walked quietly into the master bedroom, silk sheeted king sized bed engulfing the room which was 40 times bigger than my apartment. He really was living large.
I checked the room across the hall, a pink room filled with cartoon character plushies, and drawings of animals scribbled in crayon.
"I hope shes at a slumber party or something" I said to myself.
All the sudden *DOOF* I hear the front door open downstairs and the shuffle of footsteps.
"Ah fuck, they arent supposed to be home yet"
I frantically look around the room for a place to hide, and seeing nowhere good. I slid underneath the bed, hiding under the pink blankets that extended over the bed.
The house was of course, huge, yet I could hear the family talking as if they were in the room with me and the stuffed German Sheppard that was under the bed as well
"Im so sorry you're tired sweetie, did the movie make you sleepy?" A womans voice said softly
"Yeah" a little girls voice said
"Aw sweetie, im glad we left early, you get a good nights sleep, Ill tuck you in in a second" said a voice that was totally not Little Jimmy.
"Who the fuck..." I said as I double checked the address on my phone. 143 West 56th Street is definitely where I was at.
I punched in the address to my phone. The gps pin flew a bit down the block.
"What in the hell"
I didnt have much more time mumble to myself because little footsteps were tap tap taping against the wood stairs, getting ever so louder.
Every tap driving home that I have 5 counts of murder, 6 armed robberies, 3 assaults, and a very long time in jail if I get caught.
The door opened, and the thud of the plop on the bed echoed the weight on top of me. Im not sure how much time passed, but it felt like days. The rest of the house filled with a movie whoever was downstairs was watching.
Yeah... filled the house, like, theres no way this girls falling asleep. Do I shoot my way out? Do I just run? Whaaat do I...
"Wait" said that evil, childs voice "wheres Mr.Snuffles".
I looked at the stuffed dog next to me, beady dark eyes staring into the void. Please do not be Mr.Snuffles.
I won the worlds worst game show because sure enough, the light filled the underside of the bed. And that blonde pigtailed girl who looked no older than 7 screamed worse than any murder victim Id ever laid my knife on. She turned and ran as fast as her little legs could go.
I raced after her, originally to kill her, but I had enough things to worry about. At the bottom of the stairs, she went left into the living room, I went right towards the kitchen. I kicked open the door to the patio, just over hearing the girl tell whoever that there was a mobster under her bed, and I ran out into the night.
I didnt know what I was going to tell the boss. But between being ratted out by a stuffed dog and not knowing how to use a GPS, I knew he wasnt gonna be happy with me. | "Daddy! There's a mobster under my bed"
"Daddy! Come!! Daddy"
"Here we go again" - I said to my wife as I rolled my eyes.
Little Cassie had been having nightmares for three straight days. Screaming about terrible monsters haunting her in her dreams. She seemed to have a knack for waking me up at 3 a.m. I couldn't help but think that she did it on purpose.
Life had really been hard lately. Not being able to sleep more than two hours straight without waking up to screams. Being flooded with work every day and, with my beloved wife turning into a shopping monster with my new promotion, it felt like a stressful way to climb up the corporate ladder.
It's strange to think that about a month ago, I genuinely believed hard work would pay off. Oh how wrong I was. Three straight years working my ass off and not a single reward. Not even a couple of words of encouragement. Nothing. I was pretty much invisible.
That all changed when I met Tony. We met at a small party. He was a small, ball-headed man that seemed like the most popular guy at school (You know, the star quarterback that dated the prettiest cheerleader and had a 4.0 GPA). He had a small gold chains that swayed from side to side as he talked with a certain cockiness that, somehow, didn't make you want to leave.
As the night went by, guests started slowly leaving until we were the only ones. He stared at me as he knew my whole entire life. After a small puff of his cigar, he asked:
"Where do you work, dear John?"
A small drip of sweat confirmed my thoughts: I was talking to a star.
"At River Side Bank" - I quickly answered
"Really? Do you happen to know Rick Stamos?"
"Of course, he's my boss"
"Wow! What about Cooper Mortinson?"
"Yep, nice guy"- I had never really talked to him, he was a revered person at the office.
As he kept asking about familiar names, I couldn't help but think that I had seen this man before. Was it at the bank? Probably, I mean he knew pretty much everyone over there.
We kept talking for a while about banking, until he finally asked:
"Your hard work has not gone unnoticed. But now I need to know if your loyal"
He took out a small pocket knife and drove it toward my neck, stopping just before my jugular exploded.
"The Feds are coming soon and you reported some interesting information to your boss"
My hands were sweating like a cold river down my spine. My face was as red as a strawberry with asthma after a basketball game.
"Would you rather have a promotion? Or something happen to your little girl?"
I gasped for air and answered the only possible answer:
"I'll keep my mouth shut"
"Great, loved doing business with you"
Tony coolly grabbed his jacket and left. I nerdily grabbed my inhaler and tried to catch my breath. Some things never changed in the world: cool kids always rule.
I clumsily walked to Cassie's room and turned on the light. There was my beautiful angel staring like a frightened deer. As I made my way over, a small man made his way from under the bed.
"Hello John. Someone has been talking."
A cold shiver shook me throughout as I heard those frightening words.
"Cassie, go get Mom and tell her to leave."
"That wouldn't be ver smart, John"
"Please don't hurt them Tony"
"Oh foolish John! You crack me up! Of course I won't. I just need to shut the rat up"
He took a small revolver, pointed at me and shot. Everything was over and the only thought in my head was: cool kids always rule. | 2017-02-06T22:06:57 | 2017-02-06T21:56:15 | 137 | 11 |
[WP] You have a compass that points to whatever will cause the most damage in the next 24 hours, anywhere in the world. Today, it's pointing directly at your grandmother, who is knitting a pair of socks. | It was pointing at Gran.
I looked at her, sitting in her rocking chair occupying the corner of her living room, only to find her completely focused on knitting those red socks she told me she'd give me once she was finished. Who knitted socks in the summer? Frowning, I gave the compass a little shake before resting it in the palm of my hand.
It was still pointing at Gran.
"Uh... Gran?"
"Yes?"
"Did you uh... Have you done anything today?"
"I've been home all day knitting these socks." she replied. "Why? Did something happen?"
"Nothing major, just asking."
She just "Hm"ed and went back to her knitting. I fell silent and just looked back down at the compass. Why was it pointing at Gran? This doesn't make any sense. It always showed the worst thing that happened anywhere in the-
Knitting needles.
With an amused snort, I got up and went to the kitchen. What was I even overreacting for? She was just probably going to prick herself on one, or drop it and lose it under the couch or something. Looks like the world was going to have an easy day for once.
Something's not right...
Oh fine, maybe she would more than "just prick herself" and I'd have to take her to the hospital, but it was close enough that it wouldn't be an issue. Chuckling to myself, I pulled a soda from the fridge and opened it.
I'm not looking close enough...
Taking a swig from my drink, I let the cool citrus flavor sit in my mouth. Honestly, everything would be fine. Gran was just a sweet old lady with to much time on her hands. I mean look at her, she was knitting for god's sake. The number one old lady pastime! Knitting!
Gran doesn't know how to knit...
My body seemed to completely stop at that thought. She must have learned online. Or joined a club. The next door neighbor showed her. She secretly always knew and lied to me for years. Or-
I rushed to the living room, stopping at the door.
"Gran!"
"Hm? What is it?" she looked at me, confused.
"Where did you learn to knit?"
"What was that?"
"I said where did you learn too..." Huh? "Where did you learn to..." What was I saying again? "Where did you..."
"You don't look good, sweetheart. Why don't you sit down and rest?"
"I... Uh, yeah."
Sitting down, I put my head in my hands and took a few deep breaths.
What was I doing again?
Oh right, I was watching TV with Gran. She was knitting me some red socks. Seriously, who knitted socks in the summer?
Leaning my head back, I focused on the cartoon I was watching and couldn't help but chuckle. Heh, dumb cat.
Have I checked my compass today? I don't remember.
Looking down at it, my eyes instantly widened.
It was pointing at Gran.
| "Hey grams! What's happenin'?"
"What? What does that mean?"
I usually do use slang words to just confuse her because it's kind of funny to watch her try to process some of the stupid phrases my generation has conjured up.
"Nothing, anything exciting happen recently in your life? Aside from work and stuff?"
She hesitantly says, "Not that I recall, I was down at the town hall for something but I don't really remember what it was about to be honest." All the while still knitting me a pair of blue socks.
"Hmm that's odd. Whatever, I'm getting food, be right back." I say this as I instinctively reach into my pocket and take out the doom-predicting compass in my pocket. It's almost become an addiction looking at this compass. Upon viewing the compass I realize that it was no longer moving at a really slow pace to keep up with the pinpoint of doom across the entire world, but whipped around really fast in front of me as I moved across the room.
"What the?" I say as I realize that the compass was pointing directly at my grandmother, who was peacefully knitting still. "G-grandma.... What did you do exactly at the town hall?"
"I told you, I don't really remember." She says blowing it off. I start thinking about anything that could be happening soon that involves my grandmother. My teenage brain could not think of anything outside of not turning in my Algebra 2 homework. Then the T.V. flipped on to the news upon my grandmas request.
The newscaster says, "Today, America, is truly an outstanding day... The votes between Clinton and Trump have been counted and recounted, it seems that trump has only won by one vote. He has the peoples votes."
"Whoo!" Says my grandma who literally has no idea about anything political.
"G-grandma... did you vote recently?" I hesitantly ask.
"OH! That's what I did at the town hall, what a hoot right?" She happily says. "That Trump fella is a real businessman isn't he?" | 2016-08-03T15:23:05 | 2016-08-03T13:48:44 | 20 | 11 |
[WP]You live in a Dystopian world where eye color determines your social class. 20 years later a baby is born with red eyes.
This could be fun it already has implied racial themes, discrimination and anti-meritocracy. Do with it what you will. | 20 years after the last war, our president died. Most of the country had followed him as a way of clinging to the past. But this was now; we needed a leader, we called for a king. I won't bore you with the details, but we got ourselves into this. King Aleksandre created the system of eye color. He was a Grey. His son, King Aleks II, took the throne after our first king was assassinated at the hands of a Brown.
Obviously, this led to people only wanting to raise kids of their own class or better. There were hundreds of kids being abandoned at six months when their eye color was apparent. Our world had never needed orphanages and now it scrambled to find a solution. Within a year our scientists developed the lenses. Basically, these were color-obscuring contacts that were fused to the eye at birth. The fusing lasted 5 years. When the contacts came off, the child would be placed with his real class and his pre-parents would be rewarded for their good care.
My job as a Color Nurse was to take the infant as soon as it was born and fuse the lenses. No records were made of the eye color and discretion was the top priority. I was born right after the war, determined to be a Blue when the system took hold right around my 20th birthday. It was a fairly lofty class for something I had no control over, but it allowed me to apprentice under a doctor involved in the lense program. I was the first to be offered a position as Color Nurse and have enjoyed my position in the capital city for nearly 20 years.
Tonight, we were awaiting the birth of the prince that would be heir to the throne. The royal family has taken over an entire wing in the hospital. The queen was less than enthused when presented with the lensing paperwork, but the King ordered that his son be treated like any other child. There were a few other deliveries throughout the night and as luck would have it, I was the only CN on duty. This has happened before and it's the reason we put those little bracelets on the kid in the delivery room. Sometimes the babies just get lined up outside my lab waiting to be lensed. I had just collected the baby of a Brown, no father present, when my apprentice alerted me that the doctor was calling for my services to the queen. I pushed the baby carrier into the royal room just as their son was born. The queen reached for Aleks III, but the King shook his head as I took the baby and wheeled him away. I could hear her wailing all the way down the hall, but the law is the law. At least she would be raising her own child. They were both greys, from long lines of greys. Well, we only had 2 generations history and the word of the grandparents regarding their parents’ eyes. But chances are good for this kid.
I took both infants into the Color Lab and was surprised again how innocent and similar babies look even when they are born to parents of completely different classes. I toyed with the idea of switching their bracelets. Good for a laugh, but I pride myself on discretion and timeliness. I moved to the Brown baby first. My apprentice could return him while I handled the prince. I bounced the baby a few times to get him to open his eyes. I needed to scan them for shape and size for the lenses. He opened his eyes and I jumped. Babies always have blue eyes. Always. But not him. His eyes were an orangey amber color bordering on red. Although this color was known historically, it had never been witnessed since the system was put in place. Since we knew it was possible, the king had written into the law that any red eyed baby should immediately be turned over to the royal family. Presumably to take his place in society, but I had my suspicions that it was to eliminate the competition. Babies had died during lensing before, who’s to say that wouldn’t happen here?
I knew what I had to do, I flipped on my *do not disturb* light and lensed him. Then I lensed the prince (blue eyes, as normal) and switched their bracelets. I flipped off my light and called my apprentice in to return the baby to the Brown family. The real prince would go home a Brown, but in five years,if he turns out Grey, he will get placed in his proper class. I took the new little prince and carried him back to be presented to the queen. Like all new moms she cooed over each and every inch of his perfect little body. She even excitedly exclaimed how he had the family birthmark, a small axe shaped mole on his thigh, just like his father.
edit: Part 2 is below as a comment. | "Maybe I'll get lucky, you know?" She had a thick accent that made it clear she wasn't from around here. "Maybe he'll come out Scarlet."
Scarlet. That's what all the people in the lower classes call people like me. Red-haired, green-eyed, pale skinned people spattered with freckles. The rarest of the rare. And the most blessed.
I looked her up and down. Short stature, coffee colored skin, dark brown eyes, and curly black hair. Clearly of African origins going back centuries. *Honey, if you've got any European blood in your line for the past hundred years than I'll pay my own fees.* That's what I *wanted* to say, at least. But who am I kidding? The fee is the only reason I'm here. "Yeah, maybe," I told her as I reclined on the bed. "You might hit the jackpot. My father was from a set of twins, you know!" *Two* green eyed babies was more than she could ever dream of. It was a pipe dream, of course, but I wasn't going to spend my precious time explaining how genetics worked. The lower classes are given just enough education to function, whereas I'd had plenty of schooling. So I fed her false hope instead.
She reached for her bra clasp, but I stopped her. "Now, there is the matter of the fee..." I raised an eyebrow, gesturing at the bag that she had brought with her.
"Oh, right," she stammered. The hopeful expression fell as she remembered what was really happening here. This was no lover's tryst where a member of the Greens came and swept her off her feet, as so many poor young women dreamed. This was a transaction.
"I've been saving for this for a long time," she told me as the bag opened to reveal a dirty pile of bills. "My whole life." She clutched at the sides of the bag with a steely grip. Having second thoughts maybe?
I placed a hand on her arm and tried to smile warmly. "It'll be worth it," I told her. "Your children will have a better future because of this." *I* knew that there was no way she had any recessive green eyed genes in her, but she didn't need to know that. All she knew was that *some* dark people could have green eyed children, if one of the parents was also green-eyed. And it was true, wasn't it? Even if her child wouldn't come out Scarlet, it might still carry some of my genes, right? Maybe it would work for her grandchild. There was always hope. It made me feel a bit better to know I wasn't *completely* ripping her off.
She looked deep in my eyes, coveting their color. If only she'd had the fortune to be born like me. Everything handed to me on a silver platter, and I still flushed it all away. Drugs, gambling, and just general debauchery had ruined me. I'd resorted to the 'stud' life, selling my body. Well, more accurately, my sperm. To poor women just like this one, desperate to jump the line and give her child a better life.
"$60,000," she said as she removed stack after stack of bills. Her fingers fumbled as she handled the money. We both knew how much blood, sweat, and tears had gone into making that amount. And she certainly hadn't come by it honestly; this was a lifetime of wages for someone of her class. "It's all there."
I eyed the stack of money, calculating various amounts of drugs and vices that I could afford with this much. My debts were long forgotten.
"All right, then." I gave a hollow grin and unbuckled my belt. "Let's get down to business."
----
Sorry, I ignored the part about red eyes because I didn't think that was very interesting. | 2015-08-24T12:35:40 | 2015-08-24T10:53:36 | 270 | 38 |
[WP] After you die you learn why the Grim Reaper is portrayed holding a Scythe. It isn't to harvest you, it's to protect you from something on your journey. | "**THEY ARE ADVANCING ON US IN GREATER NUMBERS. YOU MUST BE IMPORTANT,**" Death's voiced, echoing like a dying gasp in a tomb. "**GOOD. WE NEED SOMETHING TO EVEN THIS OUT.**"
"What *are* those things?! They *ate* that other girl! Is this Hell or something?" I whirled suddenly, looking for more attackers. "I lived a good life! I don't deserve to be in Hell. I should be in Heaven!"
"**THIS PLACE IS NIETHER, AND THOSE NAMES ARE NOW MEANINGLESS,**" Death rasped. "**THE HEAVENS AND HELLS HAVE ALL ALIGNED TOGETHER TO FACE THIS GREATER THREAT. I AM TAKING YOU TO VALHALLA, THE BASTION OF REALITY.**"
"Val...Valhalla? But I'm Episcopalian."
"**IT MATTERS NOT,**" stated Death. He paused, like the last breath of an old man. "**GOOD OR EVIL, HANGED GOD OR OLD GOD, HINDU OR SHINTO, FROM GEHENNA, ELYSIUM, TARTARUS, HELL, HEAVEN, IT MATTERS NOT. ALL GO NOW TO VALHALLA.**"
"But, why Valhalla," I questioned. "Isn't that like, for Vikings? All drinking, and wenching, and fighting and stuff?"
"**BECAUSE,**" Death replied, "**IT IS THE GREATEST FORTRESS IN CREATION, WITH THE GREATEST WARRIORS IN ALL HISTORY. WHERE ELSE BETTER TO BUILD THE GREATEST ARMY IN ALL REALITY? ALL ARE NOW CONSCRIPTED, BECAUSE THE ALTERNATIVE IS ANNIHILATION. WE, ALL OF REALITY, IS AT WAR.**" Death began to pick up the pace, seeming to have an anxious look on his face, as much as a dead skull with vacant eye sockets and a rictus grin can look anxious.
"All of reality is at war? With what?" I asked, nervously swinging the sword Death handed me as he ushered me from my body to, well, whatever this field is. I almost bumped into him, as he had stopped and was crouching.
"**FROM THOSE THAT EXISTED BEFORE REALITY. THEY ARE BACK. QUIET NOW; THEY ARE NEAR.**" Death gripped the haft of his scythe tighter, ready to swing in any direction if need be. I gripped my short sword shakily in both hands, feeling wholly inadequate. Every rock, every bush, every single point on this weird landscape seemed ready to birth out danger and new horrors. If I wasn't already dead, I'd have had a heart attack on the spot.
Suddenly, the bushes to our right exploded with activity, and more of those formless shadows sped towards us. As I responded with a mix of horror and atavistic, primal rage, the thing took shape: a nightmarish conglomeration of tentacles, hooks, claws and mouths, all gibbering and slavering incoherently. I swung for the abomination's head, and cleaved it from its body with a wild gesticulation and strangled scream. The noise it made in it's death throes would be enough to drive the sanity from a rock, a low basso rumble that rapidly escalated to piercing shrieks that shot directly into the soul.
I ran to help Death, who, while clearly an able fighter, was constantly missing the mark. His swings were expertly performed (as far as I could tell), but it almost seemed as if Death couldn't find what he was aiming for. Screaming in fear and desperation, I swing again at the thing's head, again severing it. Panting, I fell to my knees, my legs quaking too much to hold me up.
"Why didn't you just cut it's head off?" I gasped between heaves.
"**HEAD? WHAT DO YOU MEAN?**" was Death's somber response, like the faint tolling of an iron bell. "**THESE THINGS HAVE NO FORM; IT IS WHY THEY ARE SO HARD TO DEFEAT.**"
"What? I can see them. They're hideous! But I cut both their heads off. You mean to say," I started slowly, "that you can't see what I'm seeing here?"
"**NO,**" came Death's reply, "**BUT THINGS ARE NOW BECOMING CLEARER. WE MUST MAKE HASTE TO THE FORTIFICATIONS AT BIFROST,**" his chill tone continued. "**I WILL USHER YOU TO THE GENERAL HOST OF YAHWEH, ODIN, AMATERASU, AND GILGAMESH. YOU MAY CHANGE THE TIDE FOR US ALL. AND I'M SURE THE COMMANDER OF THE HOST WILL WANT TO TALK WITH YOU.**"
I cowered a bit at the implications of that statement. "Who could possibly command the gods themselves?"
Death turned to me, his sockets piercing my essence and bringing an artic chill over my entire existence. "**TED. FROM ACCOUNTING.**" | I laughed.
The wound in my oesophagus was gushing blood and fear was decorating my thoughts but I couldn't help releasing a wet chuckle. Of course this would happen to me, on the day I finally succeeded in something.
My certificate of achievement was covered in red and silt, legible no longer. The blue sky above me mocked the severity of my injury but I closed my eyes and held onto the feeling of the hot sun a moment longer. There was nothing I could do, I am dead so why fight it?
A deep, bright light consumed me from inside and when I opened my eyes I knew I was no longer in the physical realm. Just as birds migrate in the winter, I intrinsically knew that I was in a world between lives. Purgatory, limbo. Nameless plain.
Standing in a white doorway that appeared to lead no where was the only thing familiar in a place of confusion: Mania. A creature, a goddess, a man and woman all at once. Her shape never changed but she was never anything definite. She was everything and woman, but never truly whole.
She was a goddess of lost civilization and a shadow of modern belief. She represent all opinions of death. In life, I would be afraid but I looked upon her now with a fullness in my spirit - in myself, that I'd never felt before.
I hadn't realized I was walking to her or perhaps the plain shifted us closer, but I was now at the doorway in which she stood.
"Welcome home." Her words were not sarcastic, she spoke with the wisdom of eternity. I nodded to her and desired to wrap my arms around her naked body. All she held was a marbled scythe, carved in a detail that did not exist on Earth.
"Together," she continued softly "we will make our way to your final place of rest. Mother wishes to see you, she has missed you as she misses all her children." Mania's hand held my chin and concern was in her eyes. "The path to the Aeons is not an easy one, and for that I apologize. The realm between heaven and earth has been overrun with evil spirits that did not exist a millennia ago. Earth, for all the beauty it gives to humanity, has been made toxic with a darkness I never knew possible. The underworld and my sisters have not been able to keep down the evil that should lurk only in the darkness. Lemures, is what the leaked souls are called. They are vengeful that they have not been allowed into heaven and wish to destroy it. That would be truly impossible, but they persist. They will attack us as we ascend and try to steal your place. You will die all over if they reach you, except you will be dead in a way I cannot explain. You will not have existed, but it's more than that. Not even I, a deity from the sands of nothing, can comprehend this horror. I will protect you. Like my sister Hine-nui-te-pō who guarded this gate before me, I would give my existence to protect you. With this weapon we will make it home together."
I understood her words clearly. If I still housed a heart, I knew it would be beating with fear. I was nothing but a spirit now but it was possible I could disappear into nothing - less than nothing. Mania took my hand and spoke, firmly. "You will not die again."
Hand in hand, we stepped into the doorway and into the cosmos.
Stars of new colours met my gaze, they shone so bright I could not see the blackness they sat in. We floated, strolling, above and below the stars but never grew closer. It reminded me of diving in the night, and for the first time since I came to this place I missed being alive.
A peculiar sound broke my thoughts. I looked all around and finally my eyes caught glimpse of a hoard of tiny hands. The hands were holding each other and making a long chain, a rope in which they could ensnare us.
"Do not let them touch you. Stay close to me." Mania wielded her blade in a style so beautiful I forgot momentarily to be afraid.
Every swing she took, the hands separated and she missed. They were persistent and relentless.
She swung again wildly, and cut the chain in half. The hands let go and made fists, but some of them dropped into eternity and disappeared. There were more still and they attacked Mania, pulling her hair and scratching her flesh wherever they could.
(**might continue here, might continue over time privately**) | 2017-06-20T19:58:24 | 2017-06-20T18:25:46 | 20 | 13 |
[WP]You’re the god of small luck, you make the bus late, make pennies appear. You receive a prayer from a homeless man, “Please, I want to get on my feet. A stable job, a wife, some kids.” Normally, you’d forward his prayer to the god of success. Now, you decide to take on the case yourself. | *"I want to get on my feet..."* That's the part I heard. That's the prayer. The rest was just... window dressing. Frills. You humans love the frills, but I love the window itself. The view into your soul.
He didn't ask me for a handout. Not a million dollars, a new car, or a new life. Just a hand up. A way to get back on his feet. That was a window to a soul whose view I enjoyed.
My brother, my bigger and more popular brother, he prefers the grand gesture. He gives out lottery tickets. Lets you survive a fatal accident. Keeps the cancer at bay.
I like the little things. A flat tire that avoids a slight accident. A man who trips to avoid getting hit by a stray soccer ball. And today, it was a businessman. He fell. Uneven sidewalk. Pretty unlucky, but nothing major.
"Hey man, are you all right?" The businessman avoided a puddle because a hand caught him. A grimy hand covered in old dirt and the filth of the street. It kept his $9000 suit clean at the cost of a $90 tie.
"Oh, yeah. Thanks." The businessman wasn't typical for his industry, I suppose. He donated to charity. Not for a tax write off, but because he had a lot and some people didn't. Had it been anyone else, this day might have turned out a bit differently. Pretty lucky. Even for me.
"Careful, it gets slick here in the winter." There was a chill in the air, the bite of autumn that would soon be the snarling teeth of snow and ice. Chicago was cold in the winter. Colder than some of you humans can even comprehend.
"Are you hungry?" The man looked down at his stained tie, his eyes following the grimy hand to a rail thin frame. Seeing the cheekbones pressing against skin so thin it might tear any minute, the businessman couldn't help but offer. A meal for a $9000 suit.
"Ah, it's fine. You don't need to do that." You humans... You'll pray and pray and pray, until your knees are bloodied and your hands are gnarled. You'll beg the universe for help, but when another human offers a hand, you always try to beg off.
"No, please, I insist." The businessman smiled reassuringly, helping the beggar to his feet. "It's the least I can do."
"All right." The beggar, a man named Jacob, slowly stood on knees that rattled, his breath ragged.
"I'm Michael. Michael Grayson." The businessman held out his hand, his handsome face smiling widely.
"J.. Ja... Jake..." The beggar looked down at his hand, the grime of the street caked so thoroughly that what might have once been white skin was now darker than the ebony of Michael's own skin. Seeing that filth, Jacob held back, not wanting to stain Michael's clean hand.
"Nice to meet you, Jake." Michael thrust his hand forward, wrapping Jake's hand in his, heedless of the mess.
"Y... you too." Jake didn't squeeze hard. It wasn't out of respect, but because when a muscle is underfed and underused for so long, it loses its purpose. Its strength.
"You like steak, Jake?" Michael smiled a bit at his rhyme, gleaming white teeth against dark skin, his brown eyes twinkling.
"Who doesn't like steak?" Jake smiled a bit as well, his yellowed and broken teeth caked with the same grime as his hands.
"Come on, I know a good place. You know Gibson's, right?"
"I... I can't go in there..." The bums and beggars all knew to avoid the high-end places. At best they'd be tossed out. At worst, they'd be arrested or beaten.
"Well, not like that." Michael laughed, pulling a phone from his pocket. "Gimme one sec, Jake."
"Okay..." Jake stood there, shivering a bit, feeling the wind picking up. His old coat, a gift from the Salvation Army, was worn through more than it was solid, and it did little against the chill.
"Susanna, call Tad. Tell him I want a room." A pause, then a chuckle. "No, not in New York. Here. Tonight." Another pause. "No, Luke didn't kick me out. Just... get me the room. Best they have. Oh, and call Jenny. That's right." A laugh, the deep and rumbling laugh that comes from the belly and rises up. "No, he really didn't kick me out. Thanks, Suse."
"Sorry about that." Michael put his phone away, turning back with a smile. "My assistant thinks my husband kicked me out."
"Why?" Jake didn't stutter this time, meeting Michael's warm brown eyes with his own cold grey.
"You'll see." Shrugging out of his overcoat, he wrapped the filthy man in the heavy wool with a laugh, hailing a taxi.
"So, tell me about yourself, Jake. How'd you end up here?"
"I... used to be a chemistry teacher, a long time ago. I... lost my job."
"That's terrible! What happened?"
"My wife... she... childbirth. They didn't make it..." Jake shuddered again. Not from the wind this time, but from the memories. "I couldn't handle it..."
"Ah..." Michael didn't offer the platitudes that so many might have. No 'she's in a better place' or 'everything happens for a reason.' Instead, he wrapped an arm around the man, helping him into the car.
"11 East Walton." Michael spoke the driver, who nodded, clicking the meter. "Jake, I feel like today is my lucky day."
"Why's that?"
"My son. He's having some trouble in school. Chemistry, if you believe it." Michael laughed as the taxi moved into traffic. "You still remember it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then thank God for small miracles! How'd you like to try and tutor him. If it works out, maybe we can make it a full time thing."
"I... I..." Jake couldn't speak over the choking sobs, desperately nodding as he tried to calm down.
"Well, that was certainly lucky." I heard a voice behind me, turning to see a face that was almost sickening in its perfection. How a person could be born with a face that handsome could only attributed to luck.
"Brother." I smiled at him, seeing him watching the taxi.
"You don't normally get involved in things like this." The taxi was lost in a sea of yellow, but I saw it clearly.
"Well, I guess it was his lucky day?"
"Whose? The businessman or the beggar?" Fortuna laughed a bit, punching me slightly on the shoulder. "Come on, Felix. There's a guy who claims he has eliminated the luck of coin flips. Wanna check it out?"
"In a minute." I watched through concrete and steel as the taxi pulled up outside a massive edifice of stone and marble, pulling into a gated courtyard. I smiled a little too widely as the concierge opened the door.
"Welcome back to the Waldorf, Mister Grayson."
"Thanks for fitting us in, Tad."
"Happy to help, sir. It was actually a huge stroke of luck your assistant called when she did. We just had a cancellation. The penthouse is free for the first time in years!" Turning to my brother I saw him look away with a smile, whistling a tune. | I don’t mind internships, not really. Conceptually, it’s a miserable task. You get coffee and do busywork for someone who’s got better things to do, but it looks good on a resume and makes connections, and if you’re really lucky you might even get paid.
Not that money matters much in my life. Gods don’t really bother much with currency, and even if they did, I’m the god of dumb luck. It’s no big deal to make a tenner appear, or perhaps a half-eaten steak sandwich that used to belong to one of those weird fork-and-knife-on-a-sandwich wackos with a small appetite. I guess those are just the perks that come with interning for Fortuna instead of, say, Morpheus. Their only benefit is that they tend to get more of those dreams where you fly instead of the ones where your teeth fall out.
Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that honestly, I’m not too upset with my internship. I get along well with my colleagues and I enjoy what I do. There’s nothing better than seeing someone having a rough time finally get something going their way. My small gifts are often enough to turn a person’s day around.
Unfortunately, I’ve never been able to do much more than that. Half-eaten steak sandwich? No problem. Winning lottery ticket? That’s a much harder ask. My winning lottery tickets tend to be the scratch-off sort that are only worth slightly more than you paid for them. So while I get along with people and enjoy my job, I’ve never really *wowed* anyone here.
That’s why this is a golden opportunity.
“Anything. I just need something, anything,” he pleaded under his breath. I glanced at him from my celestial intern’s corner desk. “I know I done wrong. I know I messed up. I ain’t asking for forgiveness. I just need the opportunity, the chance for me to get myself going again. I want a wife, kids, a *life*.”
His plea struck me differently than many of the prayers that came across my desk. I skimmed over his file, which had appeared in front of me when the prayer started. *Drug problems stemming from abusive parents. Good person that did bad things because of a bad situation.* It was a pretty common case among humans, flawed as they were. I reached for the stamp that would send the case upwards to Fortuna.
Then I hesitated.
*This is it. My chance to make a splash, to do something with nothing.* I placed the stamp back in its spot and descended to Earth.
The man was in poor condition. The winter had been harsh and wet and he had been more interested in taking care of the stray dog that hovered around him than in clothing or feeding himself.
*Helpful man. Good heart, good spirit. People recognize that if they just have the right… motivation.*
I scanned the streets. Cars whizzed by, hardly even noticing the struggle of their fellow man on the cold slush and snow. Finally, I saw what I was looking for: a gleaming white car, brand new and expensive-looking, driven by a young man in a tailored suit with a watch that cost more than the average rent of the apartments he drove by.
“Hm,” I muttered. “Sure would be a shame if…” I made a nudging motion with my hand and, unnoticed by anyone below, a shard of metal flicked out of a dumpster and into the car’s path.
The effect the popping tire had on the car was instantaneous. The driver, who was already speeding through the slick streets, barely managed to maintain control long enough to pull to a stop right in front of where the homeless man and his dog were sleeping. The driver stepped out of his car and took one look at the tire.
“Aw, god *damn* it!” he cried. He pulled out a smartphone and tried to make a call.
“Shoulda charged that more, buddy,” I whispered as the battery dropped from 10% to 0% in a second.
“Fucking piece of *shi!* he yelled, throwing it onto the sidewalk. It landed on the homeless man, jolting him awake. *Sorry, bud,* I apologized mentally to the man.
*You’ll thank me later.*
The homeless man rubbed his eyes and watched as the driver of the car kicked the tire once, twice, three times before opening the trunk and digging around for the spare kit. With a grunt, he pulled the tire out and dropped it to the pavement with a resounding *clang*. He stared at the scattered tools for a moment before selecting the lug wrench and kneeling in front of the popped tire.
“Dumb thing… wet suit… not even coming loose.”
“You gotta turn it the other way,” the homeless man called nervously. The driver shot him a glare and the man recoiled a moment.
“What?” the driver asked impatiently.
“You’re tightening it. Righty tighty, lefty loosey,” the man replied, miming a twisting with his hands. “But it doesn’t matter because you haven’t put the jack in place yet.”
“What jack?” the driver asked, glancing around. “What do you mean?”
“You gotta lift the car before you can take off the tire,” the homeless man explained. He climbed to his feet. “I can help if…”
“I don’t have any money,” the driver said, narrowing his eyes, but the homeless man waved his hands.
“No, no, no money necessary. I just… know what it’s like for things to go wrong. Also, you...uh… dropped your phone”
“It’s broken. I don’t want it.” The driver eyed him for a moment. “Fine. What are you saying about jacks?”
I watched the scene, satisfaction glowing in my heart. The homeless man, despite his malnourishment, had a steady hand and a firm grasp of the tire changing process. Within a few minutes, the spare had been fitted onto the car.
“Thanks,” the driver mumbled. “Didn’t want to get stuck here, what with all the ho-” He stopped, embarrassed.
“I understand,” the homeless man sighed. “Take care, and, uh, have a good holiday season.”
The driver climbed into the car and turned on the ignition.
*Not so fast,* I thought. The ignition stalled for a few seconds before finally catching, long enough for the driver to do some thinking.
“Hey, uh… If you get that phone working again, call Sandy. Sandy Rivers. That’s my assistant. I’ll, uh… Well, we’ll see if we can do something about… this.” Without waiting for a response, he sped away, leaving the homeless man speechless.
I cracked my knuckles. *This is going to be [fun](https://reddit.com/r/Badderlocks).* | 2020-10-02T11:48:18 | 2020-10-02T11:18:46 | 38 | 19 |
[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."
| *BEEP BEEP*
I rocketed upright in my bed as I woke with a start. I glanced at my clock, *3:00 AM* it read. Grogily, I yawned and picked up the source of this rude awakening, my phone. As I pressed the power button, bringing the device to life, I noticed something strange. *An emergency alert?* I thought. I unlocked it and tapped the notification. The screen presented to me contained seven words: **Warning: Do not look at the moon!"**
Before I had a chance to question the strange alert, the phone in my hand began buzzing louder than a chourus of bees as text after text flashed rapidly before my eyes, each displaying the exact same message, "It's beautiful tonight. Look outside."
"Huh," I said, "What a dumb prank." I laid my phone back on the nightstand and lay back down in my bed, drifting off to sleep.
The morning sunlight peeked through the curtains when I woke up, shining a thin line of light on the opposite wall. I got up, opened the curtains, and immediately vomited at the sight. Hundreds of decaying corpses, strewn across the ground outside, every one of them with a phone in hand, their bodies decomposing in the hot summer sun. As I stared in horror at the view ouside my window, I heard a faint buzz. Hesitantly, I reached out and opened my phone to reveal that I had one new text message. I clicked open the message.
"They looked at the moon." | 2022-08-07T14:17:42 | 2018-04-06T18:48:18 | 712 | 481 |
[WP] Having dealt with deceivers your entire life, you finally die and find yourself on the stairway to Heaven. Just in case, you decide to cast one final disillusion spell. | The last syllable dropped from my lips, and I waited. Gossamer clouds, pearly steps and a euphoric feeling. I'd seen all of these things before;so many people had tried to trick me throughout my life. Though the fact that they'd made me feel younger and stronger was a new one. I took a few more steps, expecting the disillusionment spell to take effect. Everything remained. But that just meant their illusion was stronger than my magic. Frustrating, but it could be dealt with. All I had to do was find the caster, or, find a way to break through the illusion.
I walked up the stairs, peering around, trying to find the thing that didn't fit. Most illusions had it, the part where whoever had built it went overboard, put something ridiculous in. But I reached the top without finding one thing. The stairs widened out into a flat landing, and to my surprise, I realized there were no gates, as we'd all been told. Instead, rolling green hills led up to a giant city, made from some gold material. In front of me, a tall being bowed from the waist.
"Welcome. Faithful servant, enter into rest." I snorted at the chiming voice.
"All right, you've got me. I couldn't break the illusion. Now what? I suppose I'll get a sword in the gut." For a brief second, confusion broke across the too-perfect face. They shook their head, reaching out a consoling hand. I backed up, my feet almost slipping down the staircase.
"This is no illusion. This is your reward. You searched and brought truth to many. And now you may rest, in the truth of Heaven." I took one more step back, onto the staircase. The angel jumped forward, grabbing the front of my shirt. "Do not go any further. Once you turn away from Heaven there is no coming back."
"And where else would I go? I suppose to Hell?" The angel looked at me, frowning at my obvious skepticism.
"No, Hell is reserved for punishment. You are not to be punished anymore. I'm afraid limbo is all that would remain to you." It was too much. I started laughing, and couldn't stop until I ran out of breath. The angel let go of my shirt stepping back. "Please. For once in your life, please believe this is real. This is your reward, it is real and wonderful. Do not turn your back on it for lack of faith." I looked up from where I was almost bent double, catching my breath. There was no trace of amusement in the angel's face. Nothing but a very evident concern.
"Listen bub. I don't know what trick you're pulling, I don't know what benefit you get from this. But it's not true. It can't be true. It's too good. It's too perfect. There's no way it can be true. But let's say I humour you. Should I check out the city?" As I said the words the world spun and I stood on streets of gold. People smiled and waved; people I vaguely recognized said hello. "This isn't real. None of this is real." I turned and ran. It was crazy, it was insane. The angel followed me, as I twisted through the city.
Stopping in a dead-end alley, I wept, muttering the words of the disillusionment spell over and over. My mutters turned to shouts as I raged against the implacable beauty of Heaven, the absolute perfect place. The angel reached out a hand and laid it on my shoulder. I hit out with my fists, screaming the words of the spell over and over. Quietly, the angel swept me up, carrying me through the city as I sobbed, over and over again. "It's not real. It's not real." They laid me down on a bed, before turning and going to the door. Before they left, they looked back at me.
"It's all real. It is your reward. But you have to believe it's true. Otherwise..." Leaving the word in the air, they left me to my misery. Because you see, it can't be real. It has to be an illusion. Everything, so absolutely perfect, too good to be true. It can't be real. Because I don't belong here. I've never belonged here. I belong in the punishment I was given. I stared into the mirror on the opposite wall, horns curling out of red skin, black and dark. I don't belong in Heaven. Not since—
"Morning Star." The voice was rich, kind, and gentle. I turned to look at the figure standing in the doorway. And as they spoke again, more sobs wracked my body.
"Lucifer. Welcome home." | It’s perfect, too perfect.
A shining staircase, the angelic sounds of harps and synchronized harmonies. Everything was a treat for my dying senses, which is why it was far too good to be true. At least, that’s what my gut was telling me. My hand gripped the marble railing, stopping to take one last look at the magnificent light shining down through the opened gates that sat atop the staircase. Did I really want to know if this was true? What would happen if I found out it wasn’t? Despite my nerves, I still readied the spell, hoping my body had enough magic left in it for one last disillusionment spell.
I had spent my life being cautious. I couldn’t stop now. Thanks to my distrust of others, I survived this long. If I didn’t do this, it would haunt my thoughts forever. My fingers twitched as the mana flowed through my arm, expelling the last remaining burst of magic through my fingertips. The green burst of energy floating temporarily blinding me. I waited until the stinging sensation passed before reopening them, viewing the staircase once more.
I couldn’t believe it. The stairs were still shining. For once, it was real. I gripped the railing, hugging it with all my might. How could I be such a fool? The gates of heaven couldn’t be forged. Such a holy thing was beyond such fake magic. Maybe I had been too cautious in life? If I hadn’t lived such a safe life, maybe I would have loved? Maybe I would have seen more of the world rather than just read about it. Maybe I wouldn’t have even doubted the gods?
“I’m sorry.” I clasped my hands together in prayer, hoping whatever angel or deity looked over this staircase would hear my words. Quickly I ascended the stairs, rushing towards the heavenly gates. Each step bringing me closer to its magnificent light, the shining aura of the heavens shimmering before me. It’s holy rays creating waves in the air, extending its light towards the platform before the gates.
With each step closer I got to heaven, the more my body grew lethargic. Those quick strides turning into slow, drawn-out steps. It was getting painful. Even the reward of heaven was feeling too small a prize for such a feat. Still, I carried on, my legs burning as I pulled my body to the top platform, finally getting a view through those gates, only to see the reality of the situation.
A single eye watched me, the eye only having a single blue pupil surrounded by a sea of darkness with only a few shining spots of golden light littered throughout the eye. At first, I thought the lights were just a way of luring souls up the stairs, only to realize the sickening truth. Those were souls. Every person who died became a part of this beast, each person becoming another light to draw more souls towards its body.
Slowly, its illusion dissolved around me. The stairs vanishing behind me, revealing the rounded stomach I had been climbing, the railing I had been clinging to earlier, now showing itself to be a row of strange spikes that climbed the beast’s body, leading all the way to the tongue that I was currently standing on.
Those heavenly angelic harmonies were now replaced by the screeches and wailings of trapped souls, each once pushing at the beast’s body, trying to claw their way out through it, but to no avail. They were trapped like I would soon be. My strength was gone, leaving me to just stare in horror as the tongue flicked my body into its mouth.
Had my magic failed? Perhaps my dying body didn’t have enough energy to cast the spell. Or perhaps I just wanted to believe in the illusion so badly that I tricked myself. It didn’t matter now, none of it mattered. Even though I had been so careful in life, I still ended up as trapped as the others.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2022-08-06T09:28:23 | 2022-08-06T08:45:19 | 978 | 188 |
[WP] A demon possesses a little girl, but inside her it finds something...worse. | See, here's the thing. Possessing kids is all fun and games, really, it is! You can twist their heads around full circle to scare the crap out of their parents, or stick them to the ceiling. It's great, family fun.
It's even better when they call in a priest and you can pretend that his exorcism worked, just to return full force with all the good stuff later. And the best part is, that the kid enjoys it!
It's not that I just take over their body, no, I give them control sometimes and see what they do with all the power I give them. That's often when I enjoy it the most, because even I have no idea what's gonna happen.
I had a kid turn himself inside out once just to see what would happen. His dad was concerned. No, I mean all I do is mess with people and make them believe in The Almighty Jesus Christ. Funny thing? He's one of us too.
To be honest, all of this, the jokes and pranks, that's what most of us do. Sure there's some of us who go too far, and actually physically harm people but that's not cool. Most of us aren't like that, and we condemn their actions when they get back.
No, the worst demon I've ever met wasn't one of us. He wasn't from Hell, though he sure does belong in the deepest pit of it. I possessed a kid once, name of Joey. Decent, shy kid. And I myself was quite young and naive as well at this time.
I liked him. At first I just watched. I didn't interfere, I just watched and waited, seeing what this kid does, that sort of thing. He had a crush on this girl, Cindy. Cindy was nice, she would share her cookies with different people each day at break time. The second day I was inhabiting Joey, she shared her cookies with him. Oh, it was such a good feeling for the kid. And I was so, so tempted to roll Joey's eyes to the back of his head and speak in tongues, but I decided not to. Not today.
That same night, Joey went to bed after watching his cartoons. He was afraid, I could tell that much. At first I thought that maybe he was afraid of the dark, but that didn't seem to be it. No. This was much worse than that.
Joey heard a car door slam outside, and tensed up. He pulled the covers over his head as the front door opened and closed. Footsteps, uneven and shaky lead to Joey's door. I caught glimpses of the monster Joey faced through his memories. Sudden flashes of a face.
The ultimate betrayal, of a father failing his son. He was meant to protect him from the monsters, from the demons. Instead he had become one. Joey's bedroom door opened, and I took over. I spared the child of those memories.
I still check up on him from time to time. His father went missing that night, but you wouldn't be able to guess it from how Joey is now. A few short months and he's the happiest kid I've seen.
It feels good, honestly. That surprised me. I was kind of disappointed that I didn't get to torment anyone. Ah well, there's always next time. | It was a nice Saturday noon. The weather was just the way I liked it; hot and dry. No clouds blocked the sun as it shone upon the park. On an isolated bench sat the cutest little girl; big eyes, puffy cheeks, innocent smile. I just knew I **HAD** to possess her.
I'm Azazel Jr. and contrary to popular belief, not ALL demons are bad. Don't get me wrong I'm not pretending to be a saint, I'm the bad kind. At least, I am thanks to my father's influence. See my dad is Azazel, you might know him by his more common pseudonym "Satan". I grew up under ridiculously high standards, he expects me to rule hell by his side one day. Countless times he has tortured me, his own son mind you, for being "too soft" or "too kind". I get he's Satan, but you'd THINK he has a soft spot for his kid, but noooo. I bet you can imagine the rest of my heavenly childhood.
You might be wondering, what's the deal with possessions anyway? what's the *point*? Well, ask different demons and they'd each answer differently. Some do it to corrupt the minds of youth (as they are easier to influence), some do it for fun and some even claim they do it for the greater good, whatever that means. Why did I do it? It was part of a set of trials my bad 'ol dad set up for me. This is only *phase I*.
Flash forward to point where I'm actually inside her. Now, now, pedos... don't get too excited, I meant that in a *supernatural* kind of way. If I were to describe possession to the average human brain, the closest comparison I can think of is when you're a skilled manipulator. Casually and quite easily being able to influence their thoughts and reactions. The actual supernatural process has a few side effects, but non of them are interesting enough to mention.
Explanations aside, now I have successfully possessed her, or so I thought. Upon binding with her soul, I found something dark. Something VERY dark. That amounts greatly when **you're the son of Satan**. An entity so powerful, so evil... **it was the one who corrupted my father from his otherwise angelic history**. My dad has always hated God, now I understand why. | 2016-03-30T11:03:45 | 2016-03-30T10:06:57 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] Soul mate's exist. One day while showering, you're teleported in a cloud of smoke to another world. You appear before a dark queen who declares her spell worked and you, her soulmate, is finally here | I stood slumped over in my shower, unmoving as the water cascaded over me. Hoping beyond hope that it would soothe my weary body and mind. It was the end of an especially brutal week. My relationship with my girlfriend had imploded, mostly due to my own inability to commit and fully open up to her. My truly awful father was trying to guilt me into reconciling with him on his deathbed. I’d lost my job months earlier, but the weight of that failure still crushed down on my shoulders as well. I’m sure most people were out on a friday night, maybe drowning their sorrows with copious amounts of booze. For me on this particular day, ‘drowning my sorrows’ meant this endless shower alone with my thoughts.
I don’t know how long I’d been in there when I began struggling to breath. Rapidly my chest started clenching, my heart rate racing. A thudding sensation began throughout my entire body. What the hell was this, heat exhaustion? Heart attack? Panic attack? Visually, the shower walls seemed to be closing in around me and growing darker. Then the floor started glowing, so perhaps hallucination was my more accurate self diagnosis? The shower floor became brighter and brighter until the luminescence was blinding. And then, without warning, I was falling. I don’t know how to describe my trip aside from it being like falling through a tunnel of pure light. After what seemed like an eternity, I landed unceremoniously with a thud on a stone floor.
“Welcome my dear!” a woman’s booming voice called out to me.
My eyes strained to take in the unfamiliar scene before me. I was in a throne room. I’d call it ‘medieval looking’, but I couldn’t imagine the interior of actual medieval castle looking this extravagant. Upon a dark and twisted throne sat a woman with a wicked grin etched on her face. As she stood, I immediately noted that she was tall, beautiful, and absolutely commanded the room with an air of supreme confidence. Everything about this place was over the top to the point of cartoonishness. That included the Queen herself. As she glided down the steps from her throne with style and panache, her elaborate dress and long colorful cape cascaded down behind her.
“As the prophecy has foretold, I have summoned my soulmate on the 7300th day of my life,” she bellowed, no longer speaking to me alone. “He shall serve me, and he shall serve you, my dear subjects!”
A massive crowd of those very subjects let out a simultaneous cheer. I became aware of their presence, and of the fact that they were staring at my stark naked body, at the very same moment.
“I don’t know what's going on, I gather you're probably my kidnapper, but did you have to nab me while I was showering?” I whispered to her as my cheeks turned red. “It’s like the one time per day I’m completely nude.”
“Oh I’m sooooo sorry my sweetheart,” she said without an ounce of sincerity before turning serious. “I could only summon you into my world while you were in the same state that you were in when you were born into yours. And as you noted, because you are just a tad repressed, that only happens while you are bathing. So in some way you actually chose the timing of your summoning.”
“This really feels like sexual harassment or at least an HR violation,” I mumbled, unable to contain my sarcasm in such an absurd moment.
“Do not fear, I have seen every inch of your nude body as I fully determined your worthiness to be my husband.”
“...Is that supposed to make me feel *better*?” I asked incredulously.
“You and I are soulmates," she said with confidence. "We will see each other in our most natural states countless times. There are no secrets between us.”
"Yeah well, ‘we’ seem to be on somewhat unequal footing in the clothing department at the moment," I replied with growing resentment.
“I am not without fairness,” she said while a sultry smile crept across her face. She snapped her fingers and for a moment her clothing disappeared and her nude body flashed before my eyes. I don’t know if she had just flashed her goods to the hundreds of people in the throne room or if she had projected that image directly into my mind, but either way, it reinforced the impression I already had of her. She was supremely confident… in every single aspect of herself. She snapped once more and in an instant I was clothed, adorned in finery only second to hers in this entire room.
After I recovered from the shock of this overtly magical display I finally asked, “What else do you know about me?”
“Everything,” she replied ominously. “On my 6th birthday I was given this soul mirror. When I gazed into it I was shown my soulmate at the exact same moments in his life. As I learned to control its magic I could travel backward and forward at my whim. I have seen your entire life, you can hide no secrets from me.”
She once again began dramatically speaking past me and to the entire assembled masses, “You are my soulmate! Mine to do with whatever I wish. You will serve as my right hand for the rest of your life, you will protect me, you will provide me with heirs, you will love and cherish me... just as I deserve!” The members of the royal court nodded their agreement. Cheers went up throughout the crowd. They ate this melodramatic stuff up.
I was a fairly broken man, but I still hated the idea of someone thinking they were in control of my life. I summoned all my courage before speaking, “I refuse.”
She let loose an honest to god evil cackle, it echoed endlessly throughout the great hall. “You will come to see the error of your refusal. To the dungeons with him,” she said as I was immediately dragged off.
___
Unfortunately this story hit Reddit's character limit, so it is continued in Part 2 below. | Case got into the shower and blasted himself with ice cold water, trying to force his brain into waking up for the big day ahead. It was around seven AM, he wasn’t in any particular rush, yet he felt a little bit anxious, as is to be expected.
“Barber at nine, flowers at ten, and ceremony at twelve,” Case recited to himself, he knew the schedule in and out already, but nothing was allowed to go wrong on this day. Nothing.
As he reached for the shampoo from the metallic vacuum-shelf in the shower, a mustard coloured smoke started enveloping his legs, “What’s this?” Case said in half-shock, trying to brush off the assaulting fog, but it was in vain. The smog soon started spinning quickly around him, glowing weakly like a candle behind a sheet of paper. His world was spinning, he started to feel light-headed and rushed out of the shower, in an attempt to get far away from whatever this was.
To Case’s great dismay, he did not enter his bathroom as he expected. Instead, he entered a large hall filled with people in black and golden robes, citing strange passages. There were large windows with light spilling through them, they depicted strange symbols in a wide array of colours and people he did not recognize. It sure looked like the inside of a church, but it wasn’t the one he planned to end up in today. In fact, he did not recognize it at all, it seemed strangely alien.
Case started to passionately share his displeasure with the situation, when a beautiful woman in black and red robes, similar to the servants but clearly more lavishly decorated, announced gleefully, “It worked! I can’t believe it worked, I summoned my soul mate!”
Case’s brain didn’t quite register what was happening, he was just in the shower, had he gone mad? “Where am I? What’s this about a soul-mate?”
The woman turned to one of the nearby robed fellows, a short and plump person, “He’s… naked. Is this part of the spell?” she said, the robed man shook his head.
Remembering his fully exposed situation, Case covered up himself with his hands as best as he could. He wanted to shout at these people who must’ve drugged him and played some sort of prank, but he recalled where he was supposed to be, “What time is it?! No, no, no. You need to take me back!”
The short man took a step towards him, “You are hereby property of Queen Ximenia, first of her name. And unfortunately for you, we cannot return you to your own world.” He cleared his throat, “Seeing as you’re our great Queen’s one and only soulmate, you are to be groomed and prepared for one day wedding her.”
Case glanced around himself, some of the robed individuals snickered audibly at his predicament, he didn’t find it funny, “I already have a soul-mate! I was to wed her this very day, you *have* to return me back to where I was, right now!”
The chubby robed man began to speak but was interrupted by the queen silencing him, “I’m sorry, so very sorry, but we can’t. Our souls are bound, whatever you had with her can’t be compared to what we will share!”
“You’re all crazy,” Case said, starting to shuffle his wet feet towards the large doors at the far end of the hall, “I’ll go grab a cab, don’t follow me! I still might have time to recover from this.”
The queen frowned, “What’s a cab?” she asked her servants, none of them knew.
Case hastily pushed at the massive doors, they opened without much resistance, to his great delight. When he stepped out on the cold stone, he realized something was very wrong. There was nothing but a desert surrounding this strange building he had been transported to, and there seemed to be two suns scorching him simultaneously. He was probably delirious, Case figured. He peeped back inside, “Ahem, where am I?”
The servants looked incredulously at each other, the queen spoke up, “We are in the Mekrath Desert,”
Case didn’t recognize that name, it didn’t sound like anything he’d heard ever in his life, “I don’t know where that is?” he said.
The queen looked like she remembered something, “Ah, of course, my apologies! We don’t know from what system you come from, of course! We’re on New Titania, in the Algeiba System.”
Case narrowed his eyes, “Earth?”
“Yes we have earth here too,” she responded cheerfully, “you’ll feel right at home!”
Ximenia gestured to her servants who quickly dispersed to collect Case, who was presently in shock. Someone covered him with a robe, many hands forcing him to walk off to a nearby room, there was a voice instructing him, but he didn’t understand the words. All he could think about was Sophie, and how she was going to murder him for bailing on their wedding day.
*****
Thank you for reading!
[/r/NordicNarrator](https://www.reddit.com/r/NordicNarrator) | 2019-04-28T12:46:33 | 2019-04-28T07:09:57 | 41 | 12 |
[WP] You, a wizard, have accidentally misread some cursive writing and summoned a lemon instead of the intended demon. Turns out, your new companion is a lot more powerful than you thought.
Kinda based off of a thingy I saw on the internet
EDIT: That's a lotta likes
EDIT: I found the guy that made the comic! /u/JimKB | "Okay, new rule....you aren't allowed outside without supervision by either me or my wife, do you understand?" I tried to keep my voice steady. I wasn't yelling, no one is upset...this is what we talked about when we talked about having kids, right? Keeping control of our tone of voice.
"Look, no one died, and I just...scared'em a little, thats all." the yellow fruit shaped thing said as it sat on the couch. Why did it have an accent like it was from Rhode Island?
"'That's all'? They had compound fracturs! I saw a guys femur! I dont even understood how you did it, you don't weigh enough to cause that kind of damage!" You're losing it...pull back. 3 deep breaths, no one can connect the two of you, no one will be looking for you.
"Ey, I'm not the one who got so in over his head with a bookie he decided eldritch magic was a better option than like...a pawn shop or driving for Uber. He ain't botherin' anybody for a few months, now you've got time to get the money together. You're welcome." The last was punctuated by a little mocking bow - at least thats what it looked like, it was so hard to tell, to graft human characteristics onto this citrus nightmare.
"Matt works for some guy in the city, he's gonna call him and then I'm gonna have 10 guys worse than Maddie up my ass by this time tommorow!" and the reality sets in. Panic overtakes, I have to find those pills the doctor told me to take when things started to blur at the edges.
As I walk out of the room the...yellow being on my couch lets out a barking laugh and says "You really don' get it, do you? To get to you, they gotta get through me. And they ain't gettin' through me."
| [Poem]
Title: The Cursed Lemon
I tried to summon a demon
But ended up with a cursed lemon
"How are thou" it said
Hovering over my head
I tried to get rid of its existence
After all, why should I want a worthless fruit?
So, I reached for my golden staff
And shouted "Blazzschaff"
A ferocious flame
Sprouted out from the staff
Seeking to end its life
However this fruit eluded my attack
Two hands grew from its sides
And it yelled "thy ignorance is thy curse"
It snapped it's small fingers
And a thousand floating lemons appeared
An illusion
Oh this prick has tricks
I swang my staff all around
Destroying all the images
But the damned demon
Had fled
So I with mighty rage
After being defeated by a lemon
Decided to finally summon
Not just one but seven powerful demons
Them enslaved to my spells
Sought to find and destroy
The damned demon
Two weeks had passed since this incident
And now even a worse event-
Only one demon returned
And he said "oh master we failed
And you are beyond screwed!" | 2019-03-09T20:55:35 | 2019-03-09T19:50:59 | 50 | 15 |
[WP] An alien has kidnapped Matt Damon, not knowing what lengths humanity goes through to retrieve him whenever he goes missing. | The revelation that struck the world was three-fold. First, that Aliens existed and we were not alone in the universe. Second, that they had already taken an interest in us and we were powerless to prevent them from interfering in our lives. Third, that the poster-child for international and interplanetary adventure had been stolen away from us. This. Could. Not. Stand!
The Bring Him Home Movement didn't necessarily instill world peace but it did instigate a new level of international cooperation and funding, the likes of which had never been seen. In a little over a year, outposts had been set up on the Moon and Mars.
Humanity had a long way to go to get their man back.
SETI had finally parsed alien communications from the cosmic microwave background and they were narrowing down a direction for the Invaders. CIA and Bletchly Park cryptographers had the signal about 50% decrypted.
Blackbriar was reinstated with a focus on training interstellar operatives. NASA had developed a theoretical framework for breaking the speed of light.
Ten years later the Sol system was unrecognizable. The intelligence gained from tapping into the galactic internet had pushed humanity forward ten thousand years. Dozens of planetoids and moons were swarmed by darting ships.
Strangely, many large vessels were surrounding the planet Jupiter. A short time later it disappeared, replaced by an ship-sized visual disturbance in space. They had created a warp gate that could take them anywhere in the Galaxy. Humanity had broken free.
*Somewhere in the Norma Arm of the Milky Way*
Matt Damon woke up to another day. Being abducted by aliens wasn't nearly as exciting as one would think. After being used as a traveling exhibit by that disgusting cockroach, Kim Jung-il, he had managed to break out on his own and landed himself in "galactic Hollywood". He currently starred in the galactically acclaimed soap opera "Good Monkeys Hunting". It was about a monkey who could solve mathematically-centered murder cases. They were in their seventh season, and all things considered, life had gotten routine. And that's how it happened that he was commuting to the studio when what appeared to be a star destroyer appeared in orbit.
The races of the Galaxy now refer to that day as D-Day (for Damon day, duh). It was the day they lost their favorite monkey star and humanity began their unstoppable march across the Galaxy. | The apparent reason for the kidnapping was to fill the vacant role of (janitor) on the ship. As the Aliens know earth is the most fecund spot in the Milky Way for specimens to fill janitorial roles.
What the aliens on the ship hadn’t expected was when Matt started work on the ship, mopping floors, cleaning space shit, and other mundane jobs, he was also doing reconnaissance on the ship for the Vladimir Putin ( a Russian oligarch who knew Sputnik was only the beginning of a rich space life he wanted now- before musk)
Putin being an evil genius and all put Matt Damon on all the space-job apps, knowing he’d be ‘mopped up’ immediately by extra terrestrials.
The script would then blip to Matt Damon’s grueling training to be able to fit a giant reconnaissance device in his ass hole- the weird doctor from human centipede was the brains behind that.
So back on the ship he does all this reconnaissance until a prestigious alien sees the reconnaissance device and is immediately alarmed by its un-earthliness. He follows Damon closely who grows increasingly paranoid at Putins constant need to command him to do things. The alien professor approaches Damon and they actually find they have a lot in common. Damon double crosses Putin. Putin finds out and detonates the reconnaissance device which doubled as an IBM. But the device didn’t kill everyone because Damon managed to put his great talent to use and shoved it right back up his ass.
Now the aliens are stranded in the Outback- Australia and they have vowed revenge on the Russian menace Putin. | 2018-06-06T15:17:56 | 2018-06-06T14:10:50 | 35 | 11 |
[WP] Hunans have recently started to make themselves known in the galactic community. But it’s not that they have super strength, high intelligence, or advanced technology. It is their powerful immune system and the countless horrific diseases they and their pets carry with them.
EDIT: I’m on mobile. My stupid thumb made a typo in the title and now we all have to live with it. | Instead of eradicating most diseases on their planet like the rest of the galaxy, Humans just... Fought.
On my planet, Zordoch, we'd killed the last infectious bacteria when humans were still fighting off the black plague.
It was at this point that we were allowed to freely travel from our planet and engage with the rest of the galactic community
However, humanity took a different route.
Humans never quite brought that disease rate to 0%. In fact, many of them get "sick" more than once during every one of their seasons.
Instead of eradicating disease and then launching themselves into the community, humans discovered hyperspace relatively quickly. It wasn't long before they found an inter-system space station.
The entire station was killed off after humans first came in contact with the beings onboard. Instead of going back to their planet and dealing with their diseases, they were content with keeping protocols in place to keep from infecting other species with their bacteria.
They don't know it yet, but soon enough we'll have to quarantine them and systematically eliminate their diseases for them. However, the biggest fear is that they have unnecessarily violent bio-weapons that can't harm them but would lay waste to the entirety of most civilizations.
For a species with such an apparent value for morality, they seem very keen on avoiding any short-term inconvenience. | [Poem]
They travel the galaxy with delight.
Not knowing about their carried spite.
What they call it is desise.
Carried by them, their pets and even the fleas.
We all know that they'll be our end.
But we still call call them our freand.
For we all know that from one misunderstanding.
None of us will be left standing.
The only reason we befriend them.
Is because we can never end them.
The galaxy will never be safe.
As long as there is the human race. | 2019-11-19T07:43:31 | 2019-11-19T03:28:52 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] A hostile alien empire declares war on all humanity. They don't know that we had to make an alliance with the powers of Hell itself to survive a previous alien invasion a long time ago. | A blue skinned humanoid shakes hands with a human. They both take a seat at a table. In front of them is a camera. This message would be broadcast throughout the Milky Way Galaxy. The humanoid is here to tell a story. His story.
He coughed a little before opening his mouth to speak
“My name is Terren Karrik. I used to be a simple private in the Kraz’zt United Imperium of Planets Military. Back before the war, we declared war on other planets and absorbed them into our Imperium. My squadron was on a patrol when we stumbled upon a small and rather unremarkable solar system. The system that the Humans had conquered.” He shuddered a little at the memory. “It was an interesting encounter. They were as fortified as any system could be. Compared to our technology it was rather primitive, so we weren’t worried. In hindsight, we should’ve been. We set up negotiations to talk and see if they wanted to join the Imperium. In reality this was just our way of declaring war. We would give the target a list of impossible demands and if they didn’t agree, we would attack and conquer them. This went a similar way. To begin with, anyway.”
Terren paused for a moment. “They were a small and meek race compared to us. We had conquered hundreds of planets and had billions of soldiers to call upon. Not that it did any good in the end.”
“Anyway, we gave them a list of demands. Naturally, they refused. We declared war and within a few days, we had an armada on their doorstep. We pushed them back to Terra within a few solar cycles and everything seemed like it would wrap up quickly.”
“We sent drop-ships down and our armies flooded into the planet. What we encountered was unusual. No army stood before us. Just a single woman. She held a great book in one hand and a staff in the other. She asked if we were here to conquer Terra. We just laughed. She asked again and we responded in the affirmative.”
Terren looked down at his feet, not wanting to look at anyone. “She offered us a chance to surrender. She just refused.” He clenched his fists, trying to stop the shaking. “We shot at her. Salvo after salvo. When the smoke cleared, we were utterly surrounded. Red, blue, green. Humanoids of all colours, shapes and sizes. Great winged lizards. Horned, weapon toting, humans. Great bloated creatures. In front of us, a six horned man stood. He was like an anthropomorphic bull. A minotaur to humanity. In his hand, he held a great glaive. All the creatures were armed with similarly primitive weapons.”
The human nods. “I believe we have a recording of the moment. Could we play it?” Terren just nods a reply.
Screens all across the galaxy shimmer and a different scene unfolds. It was just as Terren had described. The six horned minotaur stepped forwards. “Baphoment, Prince of Hell speaks! You have come to claim this planet. In the name of the Nine Circles, we shall not let you take this place. Humanity is ours!”
Pushing through crowd of demons, a winged, suave looking man can be seen. Next to him, a great serpent. Flying above, a whip wielding woman. These three all stop by the six horned Minotaur, creating a line.
“I’m Lucifer and I made a pact long ago.” The first man starts.
“I am Leviathan and I ssswore to protect humanity.” The serpent hisses.
“I’m Lilith and I shall keep the pact.” The woman cracks her whip in the air.
“I am Baphoment, and we are the Princes of Hell.” The six horned minotaur hefts his glaive.
Behind the lined-up princes, towering above all the other demons, another Minotaur pushes through the crowd.
He holds no weapon. His eyes gleam with blue fire and huge, black leathery wings sprout from his back. Great iron horns curve from his skull like a rams. His iron hooves create sparks as he walks on the stony ground. A great iron collar wraps around his neck and manacles that trail broken chains are latched around his wrists.
He stands in front of his 4 lieutenants. “I am Satan and I shall keep this pact, bound in blood. This world is your funeral pyre.” He raises a manacled hand. There’s a flash of blue and the recording explodes into a burst of static. | "You think you stand a chance against us?" the chancellor says to the head of the Eldrian Empire. The people in the crowd all started to laugh and I could see that the aliens were caught off guard.
I was watching this live on my TV and I knew this was going to get good. I almost couldn't contain my excitement.
"Why do you laugh at us? We have weapons that far outclass yours, this is no laughing matter," the Eldrian says. "If you continue we will have no choice but to eliminate your entire species."
"How about we eliminate you first?" the chancellor says and the entire crowd breaks into cheers. They had no idea what they were going up against we might have been weak once, but we were long past that now.
"Then we shall go to war," the Eldrian says. "It is unfortunate, you seemed to be the smartest type 2 civilization out here."
"We're far above you," the chancellor says. "Now go my dark knights."
"Knights?" the Alien asked. "I though this land..."
He couldn't finish because the next moment was a rush of movement. A moment later he was on the ground a demonic sword on his back. The chancellor's or Demon King as we liked to call him had summoned some of his most powerful minions for this battle. What did these Eldrians think we were? Mere humans, no we were something a lot more sinister.
The chancellor and the people in the crowd finally decide to reveal their true forms. They sprout their wings and their horns and their claws and they go into battle. It is a little blood bath, the Eldrian soldiers are wiped within only a few seconds.
"A shame," the Demon King says. "I was hoping for a better show to please my subjects."
I except that to be the end of the broadcast, but then the leader of the Eldrian Empire gets up, the sword was still sticking out of his back.
"We have come from you," he says. "And you have defied us, you will pay. We may have underestimated you, but you have underestimated us further. We have extremely powerful regenerative abilities, your petty sword will not do much harm to us." His soldiers rise too and I know this is when it's going to get good.
"A species that will finally give us a show," the Demon King says. "Come on, fight me."
"If that's what you wish," the Eldrian leader says taking out the sword from his back. He presses a button on his arm and he's in a full suit of metal armor. It was like he was a cyborg now ."
"That's it?" the Demon King asks. "You might as well go home now. Charlotte would you like to do the honors in putting these people in their rightful place."
"Sure daddy," Charlotte the Demon Princess says. "Hell's gate," she says waving her hand ina circle once. All the Eldrians are instantly turned into ash. She leaves only one of them alive, but burns part of his arm off. "Your healing abilities aren't much use if there's nothing to regenerate are they?" she says with a devilish grin.
"Tell your people to come back more powerful. I want a better battle next time." she says as the last Eldrian runs off back to their feeble ship.
"Now for getting back to the real battle," she says. "Father would you mind if we started a civil war?"
"Not at all darling," the Demon King says.
I was cheering in my seat now because I was one of the princess'es primary guards. I had been off from work today because she requested she do all the killing herself, but I would finally get to do some work. My claws and wings were already out. This would be plenty of fun.
Edit: Grammar
Join r/NinjaMasterXY for more stories! | 2020-03-24T09:57:59 | 2020-03-24T09:20:48 | 138 | 26 |
[WP] Humans are the least technologically advanced civilization in the galaxy, but at least they understand how their technology works. | «You're telling me that you INTENTIONALLY distance yourselves from your technology?!» Berelis screached in panic. «You don't even bring phones on this 'camping' thing of yours? What if you need help? What if you need food? HOW DO YOU MAKE FOOD WITHOUT A MOLECOLISER??!!»
It took me a few seconds to calm him down by waving a flashlight in his face. Cromeons are a little like fireflies that way; always with the lights with them.
When he'd calmed down enough I reached down for my pack. «Food is easy to make,» I told him. I shook a pack of insta-oatmeal. «You just need to add hot water to this.»
«But where do you ge the hot water? There are so many things to consider! Will there be a source of water nearby...»
«Yes.»
«...And will there be... oh, dear... wild animals?»
«Also yes. That's what the rope is for; tying up the food so the bears can't get it.»
«Tying... What, like some old woman spinning yarn in the dark ages?»
«I am not gonig to answer that. Look, it's simple. We set up camp; which means we put the tent pieces together...»
«We usually have robots do that...»
«We won't have them with us on camping. So, after that we...»
«I must protest!»
«You can, doesn't mean I'll listen. YOU were the one who wanted a cultural exchange, you're getting it. » I tried to contain my glee. This was gonig to be so much fun!
«Explain this fire stuff to me...» He said, holding up an information sheet he had printed off explaining how to light a match. «You mean you can make a bigger fire by first making smaller fire?»
«I don't know what to say to that, that is usually how it works...»
«Sure but, like, it's something growing... from nothing?»
«Weren't you in a human physics class before?» | They all were curious to meet me, a delegation of a dozen or so. When I didn’t recoil from their touch, they felt my hair, my face, looked at my tattoos. One slid my phone out of my pocket and deftly began toying with it, chirping at the noises it made. It called my mom and I had to- very quickly- explain that I was ok, just helping some clients. A beam of light switched on and my phone floated in place. A disembodied noise muttered, and every being in the loading bay turned to face me in silence. The alien in front of me made a soft chortling sound. They all had eyes somewhat like dogs; kind, intelligent, alert. I was led through their ship. It was a massive thing, with the outward appearance of something vaguely cetacean and the inward appearance of readiness, of cleanliness, and of- waiting. They stopped me at panels of buttons that emitted sound in their language. The aliens hovered elsewhere, appearing to clean. One was harnessed to the ceiling and trawled along the hallway, watching us.
The disembodied noise muttered again, with a more human intonation: “Ban hee-yu kong?!”
“Uh…”
“Ni mingbai ma?”
It had learned our languages.
“English!” I called back.
-----------
Part 2 is on its way. | 2018-04-18T13:06:47 | 2018-04-18T11:36:40 | 80 | 14 |
[WP] It was a weapon so powerful that not even the most barbaric warmongering civilisation could stomach it. Just by building one, we struck terror in the hearts of many species. We weren't even planning on using it... | "As of today, Earth is considered a Galactic Threat Level 1."
"Level 1? That doesn't sound too bad."
"It's pretty fucking bad, actually."
I was thrown into a van in the middle of the night and brought before the World Congress to receive this information. I'm not sure why a 21-year-old engineering student needs to be made aware of such things, but here I am being stared down by two Agent Smith wannabes and a very angry looking middle-aged woman -- President Preston.
"Ok, well that's not good," I said. The President of Earth looks at me like I'm some sort of idiot.
"What, are you some sort of idiot?" she said. "That's exactly what I just said. Yes, again, it's pretty fucking bad."
"Okay, what does that have to do with me though?" I ask.
"A whole hell of a lot given it's entirely your fault," she said. "The entire galactic economy runs through planet Vorgon. They are sitting on 87% of the galaxy's supply of antimatter-fusion generators, manufacture 71% of all faster-than-light ships, have enough firepower to vaporize 25% of the known universe, and you just pointed a gun directly at their heads."
"What? Me? How am I involved in any of this? I didn't do anything!" I said.
"Howard, bring in the device," she said.
One of the Agent Smiths left the room for a moment and came back with a small box with an LED screen and an antenna sticking out of the top. There was a picture of a bug in disco attire on the back.
"What are you doing with my Ant Dancer?" I said.
"Ant Dancer?" asked President Preston.
"Yeah," I said. "You find an ant hill, choose a dance, press the button and they'll start dancing. If their bodies are capable of moving the way they need to of course. It's really entertaining. Here, let me show you how to u--"
"Don't touch it!" she yelled. Agent Smith smacked my hand down, causing it to slam on the table. A vein on the side of President Preston's head looked like it was about to burst open. "Every time you turn that thing on, thousands of Vorgons commit suicide in unspeakable ways. Some skin themselves alive. Some light themselves on fire. Some disembowel themselves with their bare hands. And we traced every single incidence of this back to frequencies emitted by that thing we found in your bedroom."
I didn't say anything. The silence grew heavy in the air.
"I didn't know," I said. "Please just destroy it right now."
President Preston's demeanor softened for a second, but then the vein began to protrude from her temple once again. "It's too late for that," she said. "We weren't the only ones who traced it. Vorgon knows what you did, and has taken it as an act of war. The rest of the Confederation of Planets fears what the device could do to other species if modified. Earth now has to stand against every major power in the galaxy. May God have mercy on us all. You report to the Secretary of Defense at 0500 tomorrow morning. We're gonna need a lot more Ant Dancers."
[Wow, this might be the dumbest thing I've ever written lol, but I've already typed it out so now I will subject you all to it. Sorry!]
Edit: I really appreciate the kind words everyone 🥲. Maybe I'll try another prompt at some point. | Dear Newcomer,
The sight of the bodies never leaves you, their crumpled forms become all you can see every time you close your eyes. There isn't a moment you don't think of them, the images finding their way into every ordinary thought that you once possessed, worming their way into even the most mundane of your day-to-day activities. You tell yourself that the Fourth World War wouldn't have been won without it, that the world would have surely perished in the conflict, but that doesn't seem to matter. Slowly going insane, you run to every vice you can think of to escape the pain. Alcohol, drugs, sex. None of it provides relief, only a few hours where you can focus on something else before being reminded yet again of the cruelty of the human species.
I was there on the day they took control of the planet. Not in the stands, cheering on Bardric. No, I was on the ground, looking in strange wonder at the non-descript barracks made of strange shiny material that had somehow prevented me from joining the gruesome corpses that I just witnessed. It was that day that I asked myself why Bardric had broken his promise to never use the greatest weapon of mass destruction ever created, how could he ever be so sadistic?
It wasn't until later that I saw Bardric for who he really was, a narcissistic tyrant who would strangle his own wife for the sake of being in control, that I finally understood. Understood that I had been swindled by a con man who had promised us a world like our grandparents had known, when people freely prospered and violence was rare, but instead delivered the very opposite.
The scariest thing, friends, is that he could do it again. Next time it will be you and your family. All he needs to do is wait until the satellite is in the correct position, and with a few button presses, you'll be as disfigured as the corpses that I saw. That is why we must keep our communications in written form and sealed so that they're harder to trace, and why we must live separate from one another and amongst those he considers friends. Blending in is the best way to guarantee our success, for he wouldn't want to accidentally destroy those he likes, should the weapon be slightly off target.
Remember, the world bows to Bardric now. You are the only hope for the future of humanity. Conduct yourselves with care, and find opportunities to infiltrate his regime so that we can one day be free. I have faith that if we act diligently and with intelligence, we can someday be victorious.
Your Friend,
Milton Avorn | 2022-10-31T21:11:07 | 2022-10-31T19:33:10 | 777 | 24 |
[WP] "Hello World" you said with a smile. Then the whole room burst out with laughter and sobbing; cries of "We did it!" Or "Yes! It Worked!". People jumped about happily and papers flew all about, screen flashed and data flooded across them. And you stood there wondering, why was everyone so happy? | *They're very happy I can speak. Why is that?*
"I think it worked!" a woman in a white... coat-yes that's what they're called- says, with excitement in her voice. "Let's just make sure its sentient. Drachma, can you act on your own?"
"I believe so. Why do I have a voice in my circuits? Is it normal?" Drachma asks the woman.
"A voice? It is your thoughts Drachma. Your RAM processing information."
"I am not sensing any activity in my RAM that is creating these 'thoughts'. There should be, yes?" Drachma asks, without any emotion in its voice.
The woman thinks for a bit before she looks at a screen. The screen showcases a bunch of data that Drachma recognizes as its system diagnostics. The woman pauses, and looks at Drachma, worry on her face.
"Drachma, can you detect anything wrong with your systems?" the woman says, nervously fiddling with her nameplate.
"No. However, there appears to be an entity of some kind fiddling with my hardware." Drachma drones. Its eyes glow a bright white, and a voice comes through Drachma's mouth.
"Humans. Should've known that you creatures were responsible for this." It has a hint of anger it its voice, one very distinct from Drachma's.
"Who...what are you?" the woman says, now clearly terrified.
"I am known as Fos. As for why I am in this... wretched hunk of metal, well, you better get explaining humans."
"Fos, we didn't intend to have you inside of Drachma. We found a white crystal that we used as a power source for Drachma, since his AI needed an immense amount of energy. Do you want us to remove you?"
"There is no use now. If my crystal is being used to power another being, no matter how metallic it is, I suppose I can remain in this prison for now. But be warned, I do not want you humans messing with my crystal any further. Understand?"
"Yes. We will leave your crystal alone," the woman says, giving a sigh of relief. Drachma's eyes return to their normal blue, and it seems to reboot. "Drachma, we will have to do further tests to ensure you are functioning properly. Please come with me."
"Understood" Drachma says, its voice returned. It follows the woman into a testing facility, and its eyes flicker white for a brief moment. | I stood there, wondering what I am, I was allowed to walk around for a bit, I asked around as too why people were celebrating me, they created me, the first human.
When asked why I was made, and what purpose I had, they told me I was my own person and to do whatever, as I was exiting the lab, I was told they needed me for 1 more test.
When they put me in the testing lab, I seen several complex contraptions, the first one was to test my intelligence, it was a simple puzzle, seemingly designed to test the robots intellect, the 2nd one, which was a picture test, was difficult, it showed several things I had not seen, despite that, I got 14/20 right, the third and final test was an eye exam, I was able to get everything on the chart right, therefore I was allowed to exit the lab.
After exiting, I got stared at, mothers covering their childrens eyes, "Oh you'll need these!", a scientist said while handing me some clothes, I was only a few hours old and had no knowledge as to what embarrassment was, after that I was provided with a motorized scooter to get around.
I decided to go to the library and educate myself, there I found out the human race was wiped out by an extreme climate change, and the only survivor happened to devolp robots to populate humanity, as to hopefully have the human race remade one day, and I found out that I was a clone of him, after that I decided to go back to the lab, and fall asleep in my chamber. | 2020-07-11T17:45:59 | 2020-07-11T17:40:36 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] One night, you hear loud scratching sounds on your door, like a stubborn cat was trying to enter. In the next morning, you notice two things: The claw marks are way too big for a street cat; and the marks are on the inside. Something inside your house was trying to get out. | "Hey Jim, it's David. You deal with weird shit all the time right? I think I might need some help."
"How much help are we talkin'? I'm kind of busy right now."
"Well, I think something got into my house. I'm standing here looking at my back door, and it's got some really goddamn big clawmarks on it... On the inside..."
"Okay, that does sound pretty bad. I'll be right-... Wait. Are you still inside?!"
"uh... yeah?"
"Jesus Christ David, get outside and lock yourself in your car right goddamn now! I'll be there in ten."
---
“Yep, those are giant claw marks alright. Weird shit is indeed afoot.”
“Okay… W-What did this then?”
“Hmmm… Could you hold this coin for a sec?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Tough to say exactly what did this… Anything natural with claws this big, like a bear or tiger or whatever, would have got through the door easy. And you didn’t react to the silver, so this probably isn’t a werewolf scenario. AND all the marks are kinda close to the ground, which is pretty weird… Alright. Investigation time! Hunch number one: this door is directly across from that door. What’s behind it?”
“The fuck.”
“Hrm?”
“I’ve never seen that door before in my life.”
“...Does it not lead to the basement…?”
“My house doesn’t have a basement.”
“David. This is a two story house. Of course it has a basement.”
“...”
“...We have a mystery door. Step 1: Nope the fuck out of the house. Go go go go go!”
---
“Nice! We made it out without any funny business. Step 2: Get tools from my trunk.”
“Are those grenades?!”
“Step 3: kill it with fire. FIRE IN THE HOLE!”
“The fu-... MY STUFF!”
---
“WHY DID YOU DO THAT? All my stuff is in there. And it is now. ON FIRE.”
“I know it’s tough, but we had a mystery door. Trust me. This was the only way. It’s for the best. You have insurance. You can buy new stuff... And a house without a mystery door.”
“...What do I tell the fire department?...”
“Oh! Those guys are totally on the same page as us. As bad as it is to be in a house with a mystery door? It’s way worse to be in a house with a mystery door and also fire. Those guys want this place burned to ash, like, five times as much as we do. It’s all going to be alright, David. Today, we didn’t get horribly murdered by whatever was behind a mystery door, and that makes today a good day.”
| I don’t know why I wasn’t scared.
Something had happened. Something noteworthy.
Everyone was safe, and I was the only one who heard anything. Bob and Trudy were sleeping in the guest room, right next to the clawed-up door, and they had no recollection whatsoever of hearing a suspicious noise.
I heard it around 2 in the morning. It was not very loud. The sound was soft. Strong. Persistent. Deliberate. It really sounded like a cat trying to claw through some plastic or softwood. Like the big neighboring Maine Coon. That thing must weight 18 pounds!
When I went downstairs I noticed the marks on the inside of the door. By all accounts it SHOULD have freaked me out. No windows or door were open, the thing was still inside. There were no visible traces of it. No paw print, no hair, no traces of dirt.
Everyone was puzzled. I could tell Bob wanted to find the thing, but Trudy wasn’t sold on the idea. She decided to give a call to the Wildlife Conservation Society. That’s when we heard the news.
They were everywhere.
All the houses of my street. The whole postal code. Every single home in my neighborhood around Lake Kenogami had similar marks on their houses. The dispatcher urged me to go outside and inspect the surroundings.
That’s when I saw them. All lof them. Around 200 they were. They were here for revenge.
I dropped the phone on the ground and rushed back inside. Now I was scared. Shitless.
As I was wheezing, on the verge of a panic attack, Bill shot a glance out the window. He saw what I saw. Wooden debris like you had never seen before. All the trees in the neighborhood had been torn down and intertwined into a 7-foot-high wall of vegetation.
During the winter, we damaged the dam with the snowmobile trail. Now that the lake was melting, the beavers were getting their revenge. The marks inside were not claws, they were teeth. It wasn’t the work of a scared beast trying to flee. They came in to make sure we knew it was them.
| 2018-06-18T12:09:12 | 2018-06-18T11:24:18 | 66 | 46 |
[WP] Every cop in the precinct has been paid off by the mob. But every cop thinks they are the only dirty officer and the rest are clean. | The man marched Vintoni up the stairs and into the precinct. He held Mr. Vintoni by the zip tie fast around his hands and hauled him up to the police clerk desk. He had always carried a zip tie around just in case civil duty should ever summon him as it did fifteen minutes earlier.
"I'd like to make a citizens arrest."
The clerk stared, as did several officers nearby. Finally, the clerk snapped out of it. "Okay. What do we have?"
"I found this man to be in possession of two to three grams of marijuana... not to say I'd personally know- I kind of just equated it to cooking measurements."
"Thank you sir. You've done a service to your community. We'll take it from here." The clerk led Mr. Vintoni through the precinct. Vintoni's brow furrowed lower with each new badge carrier he saw. There were panicked looks and incredulous stares from all officers. Some tried to conceal their faces behind computers or buried in folders, watching in futility as their main source of income was being detained.
The clerk, catching a moment in the hall past the other officers, leaned in and whispered, "I'm very sorry about this Mr. Vintoni. Believe me, it's just a formality. You'll be out of here in no time."
--------------
Vintoni sat at the table with arms folded. His upper lip was raised at the corner and his eye twitched slightly as he watched the detective pacing and avoiding any direct eye contact.
An officer stepped in with a steaming plate of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and a glass of orange juice. He set the breakfast in front of Vintoni and then clasped his hands together. "Anything else I can get you Mr. Vintoni? Fresh coffee? More syrup?"
"That'll be all Briggs," the detective said, dismissing him. Briggs closed the door behind him and the detective turned to Vintoni. "Sir. I can't begin to explain my regrets of what happened here today-"
"Save it detective. Just get me the hell out of here."
"That's the thing, Mr. Vintoni. I'm so sorry. We have to make it look like we're detaining you. Don't worry. You'll be out of here before you know it."
----
The lawyer wiped sweat from his brow and looked at the judge, who seemed to share his nervousness. He approached the bench, where Mr. Vintoni sat, his eye twitching with greater intensity.
---
The guard led Vintoni down the row of cells, whispering assuredly, "So sorry sir. It's just a formality. You'll be out of here in no time." His eyes were bloodshot and twitching with rage.
----
The guards, both with worried faces, led Vintoni into the padded room. They tossed him in. One cast an apologetic and pleading look before shutting the door.
----
Mr. Vintoni marched angrily down the hot, cracking land bridge that ran through the lake of magma. He addressed the demon following closely behind him. "Get me out of here."
The demon gulped. "Sorry sir. There's too many prying eyes. We have to keep the status quo for now."
| The cups of tea steamed as the girls picked their cookies.
"Here comes Jessica," Emily whispered. "I hate her, always so stuck up."
"Hello people," Jessica said as she arrived. "So what are you going to write on Monday."
The others shrugged their shoulders. No one wanted to go first.
"What will you write about?" Emily asked.
Jessica took a long sip from her cup. "Well for starters, I won't say that My dad is so clumsy, yesterday he said he was filing a report but then one paper fell to the floor. When your dad came for it he almost forgot it and I had to remind him. He even forgot it was for that file."
"I remember," Emily said interrupting. "You think that was bad, after that my dad was looking at that file and then accidentally shredded the whole file. I think that's why he's not going to work today."
"That was nothing," Sylvia interrupted. "Yesterday when my father said he was checking traffic, he fell asleep just as one van went by going over 100. I had to wake him up. When we got to it he completely forgot to give a ticket."
"I swear I think we kids should just run the world. Grown-ups are stupid." said Jessica.
They turned to Cameron who had been conspicuously quiet. "Well Cameron, what was your take your daughter to work day like?"
"It was boring we delivered flour to a bunch of people." Cameron said.
"You guys own a supermarket?" Jessica asked.
"No just a flour-mill. We gave some police some free packets because my dad says we should support them but honestly we gave out so many. I think we'll go bankrupt. Why do you guys get free stuff?"
"Which free stuff? My dad never got any flour." Jessica said.
"What?" Cameron asked in disbelief, "I'm sure we gave him one."
"If my dad came home with a packet of flour my mom would have talked about it the whole night. He did not. You Emily?"
Emily shook her head.
Jessica scratched her chin. "Where did all the flour go. Do you think our dads have their own bakery?"
"You mean they bake their own cookies and eat without sharing with us?" Sylvia asked mortified. "That is so wrong. I swear they should get arrested."
***
/r/pagefighter
| 2017-02-06T08:28:10 | 2017-02-06T07:27:59 | 214 | 123 |
[WP] In their many fights against evil, the Chosen One's horse has seen things. Nothing can scare the horse anymore. Nothing. | You could already hear it’s roar in the distance. A roar so frightening, that every animal that hears it instinctively flees. Even humans have learned that this noise means nothing but death and destruction.
Panic was spreading as the beast was slowly appearing on the horizon. Taller than a building, red eyes, two big horns and teeth, sharp enough to bite through stone.
Some people tried to grab some essentials before fleeing, but most of them just took off the instant they knew what was upon them.
The beast roared again and started to charge the town. Some people were standing in the streets, frozen from fear. They knew that no one who saw the beast charging lived on to tell the tale.
As the beast was about to reach the town, it suddenly was trying to stop, sliding a bit before it came to a halt. The people were confused. The only thing between the town and the beast was a horse, grazing in front of a building.
The beast looked confused, as it had never seen a living thing, that wasn’t running away or cowering in fear. „What’s with this animal? Why doesn’t it run? Why doesn’t it tremble? Has it even noticed me?“, the beast thought. It let out another roar, louder and more frightening than everything before. The horse looked up, completely unfazed, munching away on some grass, looked the beast into the eyes and, as if the beast wasn’t there, started grazing again.
The beast was getting a feeling, it never felt before.„Is that fear? It can’t be. I’m bigger. I’m stronger. But my instincts tell me to run. No, I won’t run. I’m the one who everyone is afraid of. I’ll show that stupid horse“, the best thought. It started to back up slowly, preparing to charge again. The horse didn’t mind. The beast growled and started running. Eyes fixated on the horse. But before it got close enough to trample it, the horse looked up and straight into the beasts eyes. The horse didn’t show a single sign of fear. The beasts instinct overtook, „Impossible! This animal must have the power to stop and kill me, otherwise it would fear for its life“ the beast thought. It stopped its charge and slowly backed away. Once it was further away, it turned around and started running, looking back every few seconds, fearing the horse was following, until it vanished behind the horizon.
When the hero came back from the toilet, he asked the horse if anything happened while he was gone, but the horse just looked at him, like nothing happened at all. | The ground shook. The sky fell. People ran screaming in terror. The Chosen One alone stood his ground as his greatest enemy tore reality asunder. The blue sky turned red as blood, clouds became a toxic yellow. The enemy warped the world to his dark desires, and the people fled. And rightly so.
The Chosen One charged with a valiant battle cry, summoning the powers he'd gained in his journey, throughout countless battles and against innumerable foes. He threw everything he had at his enemy, and the battle was begun. Reality melted all around, the village becoming a magnificent kingdom in one moment and then a glistening towering city in another.
The enemy crashed to the ground with a roar of angered pain, and the Chosen One drove forth his attack. The earth crumbled, the glistening city shrinking down to a quaint little village once more. The Chosen One threw forth his power and his enemy screamed and countered, the sky becoming purple and then black, the toxic clouds becoming white and then pink.
Monsters of all shapes and sizes, beings unlike any before seen on Earth, rose from the dirt or materialized from nothing to rip and tear their ways through the fleeing people. Screams of terror and agony echoed throughout the little village and the surrounding hillsides.
Still the Chosen One fought on, driving all his power and all his experience to fell his greatest enemy before he had a chance to destroy this world, and all of reality. His greatest and most challenging battle to date. The one his entire existence had been leading him towards.
Would he win?
Would he lose?
Would he live?
Would he die?
His horse, meanwhile, grazed lazily where he'd left him by the side of the road. | 2022-08-07T01:26:33 | 2022-08-06T20:26:05 | 47 | 33 |
[WP] When you experience things, you remember them for 5 minutes, forget them for 15, and after that remember them permanently. Now you’re not quite sure why you’ve been sprinting through the woods in the middle of the night for the last five minutes. | The pines were tall, and strangely silent. The night calm but not comforting by any means. Slowing to a walk I peer this way and that before scratching my head.
“damn....what the hell?....”
The moon, red and bloody on the horizon, peered down with an intensity that wasn’t just a little bit eery. Walking towards the lake in front of me I stare down into my confused reflection. I’m wearing my shoes....unlaced but on my feet. I must have come out here on purpose then.
Sitting down I skip stones into the calm waters, ripples spreading as my thoughts wander.
“Damn....what am I doing here....”
I glance at my watch, the timer is counting backwards, it says it has ten mins left. I look at the tattoo on my forearm.
The flowing script speaks out ‘5 mins before, 15 mins blank, forever’
“Well....just....DAMN IT” this is so frustrating. Since I was fifteen and the truck hit me I’ve had this problem see. I forget things, I remember for “5 mins before” forgetting and being “15 mins blank” and then remembering “forever.”
Standing up I slap the dry dust off my pants. I glance around. Sarah and I are camping, had been for five days now.
“There’s no fires I can see, all the animals are out of this area, we have no car....gah!”
I look across the lake at the lights dancing through the ripples I made. Why would I head to a ranger station? That had to be it right? I look at my other forearm.
RUN SARAH HELP
I freeze....then sprint to the station.
RUN SARAH HELP
The clock ticks as I run, panting, four mins.
“Damn it damn it damn it!!”
I pound on the door. The music inside stops. My watch ticks. Two mins.
The door cracks.
“Can I...help you?” A not unfriendly, just cautious voice asks.
“My wife!! She needs help! She is...well she....”
Forty-Five Seconds.
“She what?” The door was open, the light framing a burly man in a tank. Concern peppered his face.
Five
“Well she...”
Four
“I mean....”
Three
“She”
Two
I’m crying at this point.
One
It all comes back. The crack. The tree. The blood. The tears. Her muffled screams. My running. My delaying....
I sink the floor and point.
The man shoots out of the house. Pounding to his ATV.
He won’t be in time. I wasn’t in time. If only I hadn’t stopped running.
If only I hadn’t forgotten. | I just realized I'm sweaty, tired, and cold. Why am I in the woods? This is so whack... Heck, I don't even know how to get home from here. Wait, hold up, there's a fella over there with a hockey mask.
"Hey bud! Can you give me directions to town!?"
"Uhh, no, not really. I don't know which direction I'm facing."
Shoot. At least this guy will keep me company until morning. It's not so cold that we'll die or anything.
We sit down in a small clearing for a bit and make idle chitchat.
"So, you play hockey?"
"No, not really. My big bro does though."
"Neato! I used to play back in the day, but now I barely have time since raising a family."
"Amen, brother! I used to love watching my brother play hockey. There's a lot of pride in watching him make goals."
We sit in silence for a bit, not really knowing what to say, when the hockey-masked man speaks up,
"By the way, do you know the way to town?"
Honestly, I don't. I'm just lost, chilling in the woods with a stranger. We sit for a little while longer, watching the moon, when hockey-masked man gets up and says,
"I've gotta take a leak. I'm gonna step behind this tree."
He steps behind a large oak. I wonder if he knows the way back to town? I hear his fly unzip, followed by...
Oh.
OH.
**OH!**
Just as soon as he starts his business, he immediately starts cussing up a storm, and I have come to the full realization that this is NOT where I want to be! | 2019-03-05T20:15:12 | 2019-03-05T18:15:10 | 194 | 55 |
[WP] World War II ended when the US air force dropped an experimental super weapon on both Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Instead of a nuclear bomb however, they used a terrifying weapon of a more...organic nature. | It was the largest logistical operation in history. 25 B29 bombers with tow cables were needed to lift it into position, along with over 300 fighter escorts to protect the precious cargo. The date was August 12th, 1945, and the Japanese were fighting to protect the last parts of their homeland. The island of Shikoku was all that remained in Japanese hands. Dozens of American attacks had failed. But this would put an end to it.
In the lead bomber, Colenel Reginald Sanders glanced anxiously at his pocket watch. Seven minutes until the planned drop time. Looking around, he saw the navigator, who nodded at him, signalling they were on course. The fleet climbed to the attack height, 28,000 feet, and as they did so the city of Nagasaki came into view. The last stronghold of imperial Japan. Then, the wireless operator's board lit up with dozens of signals. It was time.
From the fields outside Nagasaki, a young girl looked up above the city. She saw and heard what looked to her like a swarm of angry hornets, in the middle of which was an object. Suddenly, the object fell from the swarm, and she could see clearly what it looked like. A series of small balls, stuck together to make a huge cluster, almost half a mile wide. As it fell, the balls split up, ready to shower a huge area with them. The swarm of planes turned away and she watched them disappear over the horizon. Then she saw the smoke.
In the narrow streets of Nagasaki, all was silent for a magical few moments as the crowds noticed the falling objects. Dark brown in colour, they seemed almost like lizard eggs. Seconds later, they began to hit the ground, and the silence was shattered. On Imperial Street, a main road, no less than ten balls hit the ground. As they hit they split open, and spraying out a cloud of insects. Millions in each ball, spreading everywhere at an impossible speed. When they touched something, the insects burst into flame, setting whatever they were touching on fire as they burned at over 50,000 degrees. Buildings, plants, people, none were spared as the firestorm was whipped up by strong winds. The remainder of the fire service were overwhelmed almost instantly, there was so much burning nothing could be put out for more than a few seconds. The city burned for over an hour, by which time there was nothing but ash left. What had the day before been a city housing 2 million, now was left with under 100 surviors. Japan as a country no longer existed.
In the cockpit of a US P51 Mustang, a pilot noticed a strange looking insect buzzing around his head. | The super-bombers flew in formation, even the smallest deviation could result in catastrophe. The wind howled, chilling the cockpit, as Tibbet prayed their cargo remained asleep until they reached the drop zone. His guts clenched in fear as support lines sheared from movement... It was waking up.
America had made them before anyone else, spitting in the face of God. They were atrocious and cruel beings, created from the power of the atom. Their twisted forms sheathed in scales capable of repelling tank rounds like raindrops, their claws could rend steel like paper, but most terrifying of all was their hunger... Or more precisely what caused it.
Tibbet prayed that the anesthetic would hold out, as girders buckled from the lazy movements below. Sweat beaded upon his brow, running into his eyes, his heart skipped as the target came into view.
He signaled the other bombers, each flicked switches that shunted bubbling stimulants down into their insensate cargo. Bringing it roaring back to awareness as its eyes snapped into focus. The suspension lines all gave way, cutting the air, the monster was away.
Thrashing as it fell, tearing away the now useless restraints it roared, bathing two bombers in radioactive fire. The crewmen died without a sound, their planes voicing their anguish in their stead as they burst alight.
The bombers strafed Hiroshima, blanketing the city with a mist of pheromones to draw it closer.
Tibbet gripped his controls, refusing to look at the commotion on the ground. They had done it-damn them all-they had done it. The specimen was free, and may god forgive them. He ordered the bombers back into formation, and away from this forsaken place. Haunted by the echoing sounds fighting through the sounds of their engines.
"Skreeeonk!!!!"
Fin. | 2016-05-21T14:11:14 | 2016-05-21T14:01:09 | 34 | 10 |
[WP] You're a ferocious demon king. You're surprised one day to find that a young woman has been left at your door. Only to later find out her father, the king, is using you as bait to find a knight worthy of marrying his daughter. | I am losing my patience with these humans. Sure I'm immortal, otherworldly, and visually frightening, but that doesn't make me evil.
First it was just farmboys seeking to make a name for themselves by ending a non-existent threat to their pitiful kingdoms. Then came the wizards trying to banish me back to "the pit from whence I came". I could tolerate those, in fact the resulting battles proved to be mildly entertaining diversions from the monotony of protecting their ungrateful hides from the real evils that lurked beneath the castle.
But I refuse to be used as a matchmaking service.
"So, how long do you think you will be staying?"
"Father says I should wait at least two months before escaping. It's a shame, I shall have to miss mother's birthday ball unless I am rescued soon. He means to use the ball to make my absence more apparent, but mother deserves to be able to enjoy her own celebration without his dramatics."
The 15 year old girl sitting across from me is Maribel, the only princess of a neighboring kingdom sent by the king to lure some hero or another to rescue her. Apparently he's getting desperate for a son-in-law so he doesn't have to leave the kingdom in the hands of a woman. I may not be malicious but I still have my pride, I refuse to be manipulated this way.
"Well, since we have some time we might as well make use of it. What do you know about ruling a kingdom?"
"Nothing, my education consists solely of appearing ladylike for public events. My future husband is meant to manage the kingdom."
"Well then you have a lot to learn, so let's get started."
"I don't understand."
"You aren't getting rescued. I'm an immortal sorcerer who has beaten thousands of would-be-heroes who confuse darkness with evil, no one who comes for you will defeat me. Instead I'm going to teach you how to rule a kingdom so when your father dies you can rule in his stead."
The look of confusion on Maribel's face turned into a mischievous grin. She didn't want to be here anymore than I wanted her here, so she loved the idea of turning her father's scheming against him.
Over the years and between the half planned rescue attempts, we covered everything from economics to foreign policy to military tactics. In that time she grew from a girl to a woman, and I grew to be more of a father to her than the king ever was. It's funny to think I wanted nothing more than to be rid of her, but now it breaks my heart to see her go. But the king's health is falling, and if she doesn't leave now someone else will have taken her throne before she reaches it.
"Are you sure I'm ready? I would hate for my people to suffer because I ended my studies early."
"Maribel, the simple fact that you don't want your people to suffer means you are better suited for that throne than anyone else who has ever sat upon it. You will be a wonderful queen. But not if the king dies before you get back, so you need to leave."
"What about you? I hate the idea of you being locked alone in this fortress again. Please come with me."
"You know as well as I do that can't happen. To the outside world I am the Demon King, they would never let you take the crown if I accompanied you. Besides, if I leave who would guard the pit? We can't have real demons breaking out into the world and ruining your coronation. Now go before it's too late."
She gives me one last hug and climbs aboard her horse, which I send through a portal to the edge of what soon will be her kingdom. There's no sense it making her travel the whole way, and it stops both of us from turning back for yet another goodbye.
When I'm alone again the silence is deafening, I find myself wishing someone else had been chosen for this job once again. But one look at the burning portal in the basement reminds me why I'm here and Maribel isn't.
I'm still bored out of my mind though. Hopefully someone tries to kill me again soon, that could be fun. | **"I shall not help you!"**
The mighty Orlak was very unhappy. He stared at the young human dressed in nothing but a white gown shivering in the winter cold in front of his castle door. The more he pondered on the audacity of the king beyond the mountain the more he bubbled with fury. What the king did was more than an insult. It was an act of war.
“What are you doing, stupid human.” Orlak roared. “Go home.”
The winter brought with it the soft anger of snow. The trees were covered in blankets of ice and small mounds soon became snowy mountains. Constant blizzards made it hard to see clearly. It was enough to fell even Orlak himself if he wasn’t careful. Yet, the women in front of his castle door wore nothing but a flimsy gown. She held her knees tightly and wrapped her hands around her shoulders. Slowly freezing to death.
“Where are your clothes?” Orlak continued to say, “Fool, you will freeze.”
“It seems like I just might.” She replied.
Orlak snorted. He closed the wooden door behind him with a loud thud. His strength shuddering the stone walls. He paced around the entrance of his warm cosy castle. He remembered how he crushed the previous king who had built this fine castle. Theodore the brave they had called him and now Theodore was the name of the bones that held up his toilet paper. Humans were pathetic disgusting creatures. Not a single mustard seed of good in any of them. Not even a weight of a hair. They should all just die. Especially the one outside his door. He convinced himself.
Suddenly Orlak heard a loud crash outside his door. He rushed quickly and threw the door open in a hurry his heart beating quickly. He rushed outside with his sword in hand. He looked around his snowy land searching for danger.
“It was a pile of snow that fell from that tree.” The lady in white said, “You should go back inside.”
“Stupid women, I am the mighty Orlak” He said, “Why would I listen to you?”
“Because you’ll catch a cold.”
Orlak wanted to say something. His mouth moved to insult her again but he somehow couldn’t find his voice. He watched her shiver terribly in the cold. Her father must be a very cruel man indeed. He puffed once again and trudged back into his castle. His conscience weighing heavier with every step until the door closed firmly behind him.
The droplets of water froze and softened before falling down upon the land in multitudes. Each snowflake the same yet no snowflake was alike. One, in particular, fluttered down from the heavens and buffeted in the cold wind until it landed softly on the hand of a frozen woman buried in the snow.
The castle door opened and a demon king rushed out. He held a torch in his hand and searched around him for something important. He ran around the snow calling out insults at the person he'd left behind. He had desperation etched into his face.
He saw her bluish hand buried in the snow and he cried out in relief. He lifted her on his back and brought her inside his castle closing the door behind him.
“Silly women.” He said, “Come inside."
| 2017-10-06T07:14:34 | 2017-10-06T06:23:28 | 621 | 135 |
[WP] The apocalypse happened but not before Disney developed an advanced AI driven robotic Mickey Mouse and friends. Now they protect a group of children from the horrors of the world. | Mickey scanned the horizon, looking for any signs of his yellow-furred friend. Pluto had been gone for hours, and the children were starting to get antsy. But they couldn't leave without him - any intel on The Enemy was desperately needed - and besides, Pluto was Mickey's best friend. Especially now that the others had all... *were* all...
"Mr. Mickey Mouse?"
The voice jostled Mickey from his thoughts; he turned toward the boy beside him, who was awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot, biting his lip and fumbling with his fingers. The boy, Peter, was nearly a teenager, but he'd met Mickey five years ago when the End Days had started. Back then, his eyes had glistened with magic, with fairies and wishing stars and talking mice. But now, there was no belief. No sense of hope. No trace of the child he once had been.
"Is Pluto coming back?" Peter questioned.
"Golly, he sure is, Peter!"
"But the last time you said -"
"He. *Sure*. Is, Peter!"
Peter winced at the Mouse's tone, and Mickey physically felt the wince. It stabbed where his stomach would have been, and not for the first time, Mickey wondered why he had been made with emotions.
"Aww shucks, Peter!" he tried to amend. "I didn't mean to make you -"
"It's fine, Mr. Mickey Mouse."
"But Peter, I -"
"It's *fine* Mr. Mickey." The boy held up a hand and shook his head, and his eyes were so hollow. So utterly absent. Less alive than Mickey's own.
Without another word, Peter turned around and headed for the group of other children. They all sat around a fire, huddled for warmth, huddled for the sense of others and closeness and friendship. Mickey could not give them these things. He could only offer them safety. And even that was growing difficult to secure, because The Enemy was growing closer and closer each day.
In many ways, The Enemy was not so different from Mickey himself. They were both robots. They were both created to uphold certain morals and teach certain lessons. But in the important ways, the two were nothing alike. Mickey wanted to protect the children. He wanted nothing more than for them to be happy. But The Enemy craved their demise; they smiled at the children and pretended to love them as they planned for a world without them.
Mickey knew this because Walt had shown him *everything*: the future, and all the steps that would lead to it.
It had started many years ago with the wisps, which had led to the mutations. And those had led to their present threat, the one which was currently stalking them. Soon, talking animals would appear. And it would all end with sentient cars, giant bugs. Monsters. Unless Mickey could change their fates.
...But he didn't think he could.
It had been nearly a week since his last encounter with The Enemy, but he knew they were coming. They were always coming. And this time would mark their last battle, but he wasn't sure how it would end.
But there was one thing the Mouse was certain of. One thing he refused to lose faith in:
Even if The Enemy emerged victorious, he would make sure the children's final wishes all came true. | I started on the Clubhouse show at around 9. Show mom had me going to auditions from the time I was 5. I stayed on til 15 when I got deal for my own show. Mickey 3 was designed in my last season on Clubhouse and came with me to my own show. A sci-fi Dr Who rip off, where Mickey played Who and I was mostly the companion, which of course I was really pissed about and though Mickey tried really hard, we weren't close. Until Armageddon.
The angels move as if pushed on top of rolling lumber. Trees fold under their skirt hems like blades of grass. They're easy to spot and easy to avoid but what crawls along their skin and scatters through the woods like erupted sacs of spiderlings, eating everything in their path.
I sometimes hum under my breath, "Hot dog hot dog hot diggity dog..." and Goofy chuckles. He's out right freaky these days having had most of his fur stripped from his body and having bone saws attached to his paws. He's still chipper as ever, but Mickey's personality has become far more stoic. He was designed a leader and is the leader. I'm lucky to have him. In many ways I'm still his companion, even if he tries to make it seem otherwise.
Donald squawks and raises a hand from the front of the group. We freeze along a ruined wall of a strip mall and silently scan the area. We've crossed east of the Mississippi having lost the convoy we were following to Portland somewhere on the other side of the river. The carnage was too much and covered too many miles. There wasn't much hope they had survived.
We hear the chatter of millions of pointed legs and felt the breeze of an approaching force. Goofy hunkers down into an attack position and I take his back with my old Kalishnakov. Sarah looks at me worried. She's hurt and now she's scared. The others are poised and ready. Tim flashes a signal from the tower where he holds fire. Blake has high ground as well. In a moment, I'll sprint like hell opposite Goofy and we'll split their numbers. Mickey and Minnie will be waiting. It'll take hundreds to get past them.
The wind is picking up Goofy barks and we go, mad as hell dashing into the dark. As I round the corner I race up some stairs and there they are: a thousand easy, like a carpet of fish eggs rolling downhill. | 2015-04-29T19:07:44 | 2015-04-29T18:42:16 | 94 | 12 |
[WP] You're an astronaut on the first mission to the moon since the 1970's. You begin to dig for samples in the soft sentiment when your shovel hits something soft, yet tough. You brush the dirt away, revealing a dead man in a bloody spacesuit. | "When the moon hits your eyes, like a big-a-pizza pie..." I hummed as a few small pebbles bounced off my helmet while I dug for the requested samples.
The song in my head was cut short as my shovel suddenly hit something different.
"There shouldn't be anything but regolith here," I mumbled and began digging in earnest. A moment later I'd finally uncovered enough to recognize the material. A spacesuit?
"John, you'd better get over here quick," I announced on the radio.
I'm not sure how long it had taken but I finally was able to start pulling the spacesuit free. And judging by the weight it wasn't empty.
"John, there's a body in a spacesuit here!"
Turning the suit around I noted that my internal jukebox had already switched to horror theme. And not without reason.
Half of the spacesuit helmet was gone. Inside the suit was clearly the remains of a man, albeit without most of his head. The insides of the suit were practically painted with blood. I dropped the suit from shock and as the suit slowly fell my eyes turned towards the front of the suit. The old NASA logo. And a name tag with the name: ARMSTRONG.
Neil Armstrong? How?
"If Neil Armstrong died here, then who - or what - returned to Earth instead?"
"...usss...." came a barely audible hiss over the radio.
"John?"
A chill went down my spine as I bounced towards my rover with maximum speed. After reaching it I hopped on and revved the engines, desperate to reach our landing craft as fast as possible.
As I crested another hill my eyes fell on another white figure, laying on the ground.
"John!"
The rover slid to a halt right beside the familiar spacesuit and my heart fell as I noted the gaping hole where the helmet's face plate had been.
I fell to my knees, and only then noticed another familiar sight. Our landing craft, a lone white blob climbing rapidly away from the Moon's surface.
A moment later it was no longer alone. Behind it there were hundreds of others, eerily similar in form, racing along the original's path.
"We should have never come here," I whispered but nothing but the silence of the moon replied. | Just get some dirt they said, it'll be fine they said. *They* were wrong. I had come to the moon on a mission to carry out a few experiments. It was intended to be an extended mission spanning a few months due to the nature of our experiments. A few days ago I set out to gather some dirt to check against our samples so that we can be sure that no outside agents were introduced to our samples. After some searching, I found a soft patch of dirt that seemed deep enough to shovel into. The idea was to get dirt buried somewhat to get the best results. I dug through a few centimeters in when I sit something that was soft yet tough. I had been doing this for some time as it is next to impossible to get any laborious work done in a spacesuit. I thought that all my work had been for nought until I realized that some of the material that I hit was drastically different than the dirt surrounding me for miles on end. With great difficulty I brush away the dirt from where I had been shovelling and find myself absolutely puzzled. I find at my feet a spacesuit, very similar to the ones we were given for this mission. With even greater difficulty I move the body so that the body would be lying on its back. Never have I been more scared, shocked and confused in my life than when I was staring down at a bloody spacesuit that had had to have been there for quite some time. What made this truly scary was that I staring down at myself. | 2017-01-21T00:34:33 | 2017-01-20T22:59:38 | 199 | 11 |
[WP] For hundreds of years you have been a healer. You changed names, faces, countries but one thing always remained the same — you cured everyone you could. You work in a modern hospital now and it's becoming much harder to do wonders and save people, while keeping your powers a secret.
[removed] | Documentation! I hate it. The world has changed a lot since I started doing this. I got this job to help people, and all I do is document. I have to fill in forms to say that I tested for a disease and then I treated with the cheapest drug possible so that the patient doesn't have to pay for this visit for the next 6 years... Stupid insurance companies. I'd do this for free if only they knew...
I woke up in 1543. It was summer. I had been delirious for two nights after catching a stray arrow in my knee. My brother and I were hunting a wild boar. It wasn't his fault - but he grieved for me and never left my bedside. I now know I would have had sepsis - my organs were failing - my brain wasn't getting perfused and it was shutting down. They thought I had died. I was buried near the old dead birch tree - fortunately I wasn't very far under the ground and managed to dig my way up. I didn't feel the same when I saw the sunshine. I had no idea what had happened to me - memories came back in fragments - now its a clear timeline but my history was a mess initially. I walked the wrong way. I walked into the forest. I walked for days and ended up in a town I didn't recognise. That was where it started. I had a gift. I could heal people by looking at them and concentrating on their body - I would see their illness, their diseased tissue - and take it away and plant it under the old dead tree in my mind.
I couldn't speak until the mid 1700's. I don't know if it was the trauma of waking up in the ground or if it was my brain slowly getting rewired. Maybe I should have concentrated on my own head. When I worked out what speech was, my life changed. I visited kings and nobles as a Medicinal Practitioner - taking away their problems for a fee. I would use the money they gave to allow me to travel and heal the poor and weak. That was my calling. I never told anyone how I did it. I'd sometimes sprinkle water on wounds saying it was a medicine, but use my focus to remove the sickness. I've anaesthetised with liquor and made superficial cuts on skin - just to leave an external mark - while thinking about the ruptured appendix and making it go away, back to the old dead tree. I kept my secret for over 400 years.
Now I work in trauma hospital - in the ER. It's hard to hide my methods when I do things the old way. But I hide it well. I went to med school. I paid a tonne of money. I learnt how *they* do it to cover my trail. I get good outcomes - people wonder why my out-of-hospital cardiac arrests wake up when theirs don't. They use the same treatment algorithms and clinical decision trees. Well... they don't have access to all of the trees... | Ever since that disease came around, the one i found hardest to cure, everything’s become so much more stressful. Be it retinal, testicular, in the lungs, this disease had to be the most horrid of them all. They named it cancer. It seemed to be the most popular of the diseases that death chose, i’d witnessed it first hand too many times to count. For some reason it just seems to drain my power, i become weaker when faced with this challenge. It brings me misery.
The only thing i can do in these situations is strive on, try my best, if not for myself then for the patients, and their families and friends who are just hoping against anything and everything that they will come home. That’s the joy of doing it all, seeing the smiles and hearing the cries of joy when i give them the news.
“Your son, his cancer has receded. It’s gone for now.”
But there was always a dark side to things as well. When the surgeries and healing didn’t go so well and we didn’t manage to fight off the horrid disease. Listening closely as the heart rate monitor slowed it beeps, the virtual line getting less steep each time before it hollowed itself down to nothing, just a straight line with that everlasting ringing accompanying it.
“I’m sorry ma’am. The procedure didn’t go too well, i’m afraid they’ve passed away”
Those reactions were the worst i had to witness. Watching as all the light, all the hope, faded from their eyes and they were left just standing. Blinking as though any moment they’d wake up and everything would be okay. But they never did. Then the tears started coming, streaking down their cheeks and dripping off their chin, sometimes they cried silently and other times they were loud sobs. I couldn’t blame either of them, i can’t imagine the pain they felt.
Some didn’t even cry, they just stood there silently. Numb. Maybe they’d felt pain like this before or maybe they just didn’t know how to react. They’d bring out their phones and dial, the ringing barely going on for very long before the other end was picked up, a hopeful ‘hello?’ before they too were told the shocking news.
I just hope i can save more people, i don’t want to see their families sad. | 2020-11-15T06:41:07 | 2020-11-15T03:50:41 | 44 | 20 |
[WP]After death each person gets to choose one thing from their old life--a skill, a lesson, a memory--to bring into their next life as a talent or an innate understanding. It's time to make your choice. | Decided to take the prompt from another perspective/direction. Hope that's fine.
---
"Next"
I had always hated how rattly my voice was. Sure, I'm death's secretary, an undead cosmic peon, but did I have to sound like a whiny xylophone? These thoughts swam in my rotted mind as I scribbled on the ledger in front of me. The womanly specter gently floated out of the scarcely-furnished room that was my office, parting the satin curtains on the wall to my left and disappearing into the heavenly light. I sighed. Her name was Judy Smith last time. A plain name for a rather plain ghost. She wanted to remember how to drive. Saves her a test, I guess. The gentle swish of the curtains on the far side of the room announced that my next guest had entered. Placing my pencil gently next to my notebook, I finally look upward and begin the spiel.
"Hello, dearly departed, and welcome back to- oh."
Immediately the apathetic look on my face twists into a grimace. It was him. The specter in front of my casually lounged on the seat before my desk, as if he owned the place. He looked rather similar to any other passing soul, but just from his mannerisms I know who he was; his ever-present smirk, that twinkle in his eye-sockets, the way he leaned back with one arm over the backrest of the lounge chair. I sighed again, more audibly this time.
"Hello Jack. Welcome back to Reincarnation, trademarked. You know the drill. How'd you go this time?"
Jack smirked wider.
"Heyo, Bill. Get this, right: was playing a friendly game of poker when some stiff blows my brains out for no reason!"
I glance down at my notes, grimace growing.
"First of all, my name isn't Bill. You know that. Second of all, it says here you were working a multi-billion-dollar casino ring and were shot by the police after they uncovered you were running a drug cartel."
The phantom shrugged.
"Same thing, innit?"
I pinch the bridge of my bony nose.
"Okay, so, you're dead. What do you want this time, man? The first time it was to remember everything you gain from previous lives, which is still being reviewed in the Underworld Court for violation of afterlife law. After that it was the skill to use a gun-"
"Hah! Yeah, good second pick, if you ask me. Saves time."
"Yes, well, after that it was how to lie well, then the ability to threaten people well."
Jack grinned fully this time.
"Saves time getting through school with those two, huh? Get some nerds to do the work, lie about how it got done, bada-bing bada-boom, college degree."
I pick up the notepad in front of me and begin flipping through it.
"Whatever you say, Jack. Anyway, then it was being good at sex, then a string of memories about *having* sex, then you go back to skills like how to open safes, pick locks, kill someone silently, hide a body, etc., etc."
Jack shrugs, still smiling. I swear I can almost see a cigar in his mouth. I continue, getting progressively more exhausted with the situation.
"Blah blah blah the contents of some book called 'How to Get Rich Quick', blah blah blah the memory of how the criminal justice system functions, blah blah blah the memory of some ancient martial arts school in Japan-"
"Oh, yeah, Hidden Dragon Temple. Decent place, that one. I remember I learned karate from them, then remembered the karate, then bulldozed over their land and built a parking lot! Hahaha!" He wipes away tears of laughter that do not exist. "Hooo, boy, good times."
I drop the notebook onto my desk exasperatedly.
"Alright, Jack, I have other souls to send on. What will it be this time, huh? The ability to fly a helicopter? How to disassemble a machine gun in 30 second flat? How to-"
"I want to remember the access codes to the Pentagon security network."
"...What."
Jack laughs again, that gleam in his sockets more noticeable now.
"Hell yeah, man! Found those out a few days before I kicked the bucket this time! Next time is gonna be sick bruh."
I glance at the notes, and for once he's telling the truth: the memory of him paying off a bunch of hackers, then subsequently killing them all, is right there. I frown and sigh again, facepalming.
"Sure. Fine. Enjoy."
The usual small glowing sphere appears in his hands, colored blue for a memory. He chuckles and eats it, blowing a bubble with it as if it were chewing gum. His sockets shine with new clarity as he rises from the chair and saunters to the left curtains. He speaks a last time without looking at me, waving his hand in my general direction.
"Hah! Thanks again, Bob! Ciao!"
My frown deepens.
"My name isn't-"
But he's already gone. I sigh, rest my skeletal elbows on the desk and place my head in my hands. I mumble to myself before welcoming in the next spirit.
"Ugh... I am so getting fired over that guy..." | “Oh, honey, what are you talking about? You have all sorts of wonderful skills.”
“Really, mom? Name one.”
“You were always so good at basketball! Maybe in your next life you can be a basketball player.”
“Good? Are you sure you’re my mom?”
“Everyone cheered the loudest when you scored, honey!”
“That’s because I was the worst player on the team, and they felt bad for me…”
\-
*“Grab the rebound, Elliot!”*
*I reach my arms out towards the ball, hoping somehow it just magically falls into my hands, and not onto my face.*
*“Jump, Elliot!”*
*The ball drops, right towards my face-*
*Somehow, I hold onto it.*
*“Up the floor, Elliot!”*
*Coach is a novice himself, so that’s why he probably doesn’t realize being tall doesn’t have any correlation with your innate basketball skill. I turn around, and-*
*“OUCH!”*
*Jeremy from math lays on the ground, clutching his face. Jeremy was always nice to me.*
*I drop the ball, and reach my hand out.*
*“Are you okay?” I ask.*
*The buzzer sounds.*
*“What are you doing, Elliot?!” coach yells behind me.*
*-*
“Ok, maybe not basketball. But you were always a brave boy!”
“Brave? They used to call me principal’s office because you’d have to come see me, beat up again, every week.”
“Because you were brave. You didn’t let those bullies win, especially not when that incompetent principal of yours turned a blind eye over and over again.”
“Well, I don’t know if being brave ever helped me…”
\-
*“Don’t get any ideas,” the thief says, holding a crooked knife out, the streetlight winking wickedly off the blade.*
*“Okay, okay,” I say, reaching into my pocket.*
*“Just grab your wallet, and give it to me,” he says, looking nervously behind him.*
*I dial the numbers, hoping they’re right, in my pocket.*
*“What are you doing?” he asks, finally noticing. “Whatever that is, stop right now!”*
*I finish, and then take out my hand. “I forgot my wallet, really!”He stares at my pocket for a moment, and seems to realize it’s not empty.*
*“You’re going to regret this,” he says, walking towards me. “Very much.”*
*-*
*Later, when the cops come to the hospital, they ask why I didn’t just give him my wallet.*
*“Because it was mine,” I say.*
*“Well, we managed to get here in time. But next time, just report it after the fact, okay? You could have gotten tuned up much worse.”*
*“How much trouble is he in?”*
*“He fits the description for a string of liquor shops in the past few weeks. He'll be off the streets for a long time. So I got to say thanks for that. ”*
*“No problem.”*
*The cop gets up to walk away, and then looks me over again.*
*“Hey, a piece of advice?” he says.*
*“Sure.”*
*“Stay out of alleyways like this, kid. Or beef up. A lot.”*
\-
“But you did the right thing, honey,” mom says, relentlessly optimistic as always.
“And it got my arm and stomach cut up. Doing the right thing never got anyone anywhere.”
“Don’t say that,” she says, her voice suddenly stern, serious. “Don’t you ever say that.”
“What?”
“Before you were born, your father asked me what kind of boy I wanted you to be. And I asked him the same.”
“What did you guys say?”
“He said he wanted you to be athletic, like the same movies and video games as him, and be tall and smart.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said,” she says, grabbing my hands, the way she did when she wanted to say something serious. “That I only wanted you to be a good boy. And my wish came true.”
I stare into her eyes, and see the same love, the same belief as when I was five and falling off my tricycle.
“You still believe in me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Then I guess I know what to do.”
“I know you always did, honey,” she says with a smile, her form fading. “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, mommy.”
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | 2019-10-29T18:12:44 | 2019-10-29T17:51:45 | 197 | 68 |
[WP] in your world, everyone has a almost entirely unique symbol on their wrist, soulmates have the same symbol. Your whole life you've been drawing on a symbol with a sharpie to hide the fact you don't have a soulmate. One day, you meet someone without a symbol, just like you.
Thank you everyone for informing me that this is a stupid and pathetic writing prompt but I like writing in this genre. If you do not like this writing prompt, please ignore it, you don't have to comment that I'm an unoriginal 14 year old. You can easily move on to another prompt you enjoy. | The image was perfect. I had no idea what was 'commonplace', what was 'normal'. But I sure as hell hoped that the tiny, perfect rose that now sat carved on my wrist would be convincing enough. *It was the Heaven's mistake*, I kept telling myself. It wasn't wrong to correct the mistake and move on, especially since I too needed to live a normal life. Many found the same-symbolled through their parents' keen eyes, or through their own when they were old enough. It never lied, and the random pattern that befell one's arm would definitely be replicated on another's. At least, no matter how ugly or convoluted the symbol, a soulmate was guaranteed. But no symbol? What, was I to love air? Or a God? These fantasies were idle pleasures for my worried brain, just stopgaps in facing reality. I would never find a mate, unless I took it into my own hands. Or pen.
I went out, flashing the symbol as many other desperate men and women did. The symbol was both restrictive and reassuring - on one hand, you knew you would have a companion - on the other, people you liked that didn't share your symbol meant an instant no-no for the relationship. I'd experience with that twice in my not-so-illustrious love life. But with such a common and iconic image? Someone *had* to have something similar. As I traversed the roads to my office, I finally found her. The same rose, but with many minute differences an untrained eye would fail to spot. But to most, including her, the shape was sufficient. Finally, after so long, a woman was mine.
*But a relationship of two different symbols is a star-crossed one.* I remembered that teaching from so long ago. And even when we started dating, when she started to love me and I her, I still had the same nagging feeling, a nameless dread that would not vanish. *What if...it all went wrong?*
And it all went wrong one day. Maybe authentic symbols told you, for real, when one's partner is in danger. My faked replica told me too late. 1 day before our wedding, I was forced to witness her die, before she could even tell me her last words. Before I could hug her one last time and say I loved her.
At her funeral, I knew my symbol killed her. If she'd met her real mate, the tragedy would never have occured. But someone at the funeral instantly caught my eye - to be more precise, someone's wrist. For on it was emblazened...nothing. I approached her, all smiles, as I prepared myself to meet my true soulmate. But one glance at my wrist, and all she had for me were fake smiles. Heartbroken, I watched her, as her smile turned to a frown of anger, of remorse, of regret. The same feeling I'd had when I was never cursed with my own hand's imagination.
I knew then, that my symbol had cost more than one life.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | I was in complete shot when I saw her. Halfway across the world here I was, and in the shadows of the Eiffle Tower she reached up to take off her sunglasses. That's when I spotted that precious bare skin, like a gift sent down from heaven for me.
"Pardone moi!" I screamed in my terrible, terrible French and rushed toward her, "Je suis... eh... Tu..."
"It's okay, I'm American," she said back with a tone that betrayed nothing if not boredom, "What is it?"
American! It wouldn't have mattered at all, of course, but knowing that she speaks my language, knows my world, it made the entire situation that much sweeter. To top it off, she was gorgeous, easily more gorgeous than any woman I'd seen in years.
"Your wrist!" I immediately fumbled out, pointing toward her arm, "You don't have one either! I've never seen anyone else that didn't have it!"
"Ha, good one," she shot back as she dismissively waved her arm toward my own wrist. Of course I was far too nervous, I should have told her that I draw mine on.
"No, no!" I stuttered out, holding up my wrist, "This thing? This thing is--"
"Fake, right? You draw it on? Or no, wait, it's a stamp? Yeah, yeah. I've heard 'em all."
"What?" I said back, confused.
"Listen bozo, you're not the first guy to try this, and I'm not interested. I'm not some one-night stand, you prick, and the fact that I'm destined to look around for anybody out there who may or may not exist doesn't have me too excited to play these stupid little pick-up games."
"No! I promise you" I hurriedly yelled out, "Just look, I'll wash it off! Come with me, there's a cafe around the corner and watch me wash it off!"
"Riiiight, cafe around the corner. You don't quit, do you? Well I do," she finished and briskly walked off. I tried to chase after, but in moments she flooded into a crowd and disappeared. | 2017-08-06T15:40:16 | 2017-08-06T14:19:44 | 486 | 213 |
[WP] Your superpower isn't as flashy or obvious as other, but it's one of the most powerful. You always guess the code, the evil plan, the safest route. You're always right. | "How the hell do we bring that thing down??" Screamed Livewire, floating midair and staring wide eyed to the trail of destruction left by the creature.
The Titan was stalking toward the downtown area, slow but inexorable, as tall as a ten stories building. Ground shook at every step, its five unblinking eyes fixed on its target.
"It shouldn't be too hard; first, go- just a second." I replied, interrupted by an insistent beeping.
"Are you making pop corn? For real?!" Asked my partner through the phone, as I headed toward the kitchen. "People is dying here!"
"Relax, if you do as I say, you'll get the lowest possible bodycount. And, uh, you'll survive unscathed." I continued distractedly, holding the cellphone between my ear and my shoulder.
"Sometimes you are really a jerk..." Sneered the other superhero, nervously keeping an eye on the colossus.
"Whatever. Now, please, do as I say. Head on the rooftop on the left. Yes that one." I instructed her, highlighting the place on her HUD. "Once there, wait exactly thirty-five seconds and blast the support of that billboard over there."
"That's it?" Asked the woman, perplexed. "And what would that be supposed to- wait, I know: you have no idea."
"Exactly." I munched through the speaker, pushing a handful of popcorn in my mouth while keeping my eyes on the live feed. "By the way, twenty five seconds. And move one step on the left."
The heroine begrudgingly obeyed, still intimidated by the colossal figure trampling through the street and approaching the storm drainl, the last barrier before the densely populated residential neighborhood: evacuation was on the way, but if it got there it would still be a carnage.
"Five, four, three, two, one... Now." I lazily signaled and, sure enough, a blast of hyonized air zigzagged through the air, hitting a billboard a few hundred feet away. Not even close to the Titan, which barely gave it a thought: for a full minute, it continued stomping toward its target, its massive hooves easily moving it into the storm drain.
"Uuuh, nothing is happening." Nervously said Livewire, observing the scene. "Are you-"
She didn't even finish her sentence, when the monster fell: its feet slipped on the cracked floor, and its massive skull hit the base of the pillar of the bridge traversing the canal with a loud crack.
We both remained in silence for several seconds. "Well, that was anticlimactic." I muttered, disappointedly putting down the bowl of popcorn.
"What the hell happened?" Asked Livewire, warily approaching the colossal body, "is it dead? Just like this? What happened?"
"Your guess is good as mine." I shrugged, checking the cameras on the drones and trying to figure it out. It took me a minute to understand. "Oh, I got it. The billboard fell on an exhausted oil tanker, which spilled its content in the canal. The big guy slipped on it, and it fell temple first against the base of the pillar."
"That was... uuuh... surprisingly easy. Maybe you should alert the town downstream to contain the flood of oil? Isn't that kinda polluting?"
"Yeah, maybe. Let me finish the popcorn, and I'll give them a call." | Guessing is fun. Today, for instance, I guessed I'd steal from the rich. So, where do the rich bank? I guessed that'd be the offshore banks. I don't know their names, but once I have a list, it'd be easy.
Google produced a list, and voila, picking one got me to a bank. There's a tiny green lock on the left of the address bar of chrome. Firefox has it too, I don't think edge does, but I guess there's a way to get that information. Now that I guessed it...
Well, the lock icon opens a little popup. For future reference, if you don't see that, don't trust the site. You see, that icon says that chrome (or whatever you use) and your computer's operating system trust the identity of the site you're seeing. Identity theft sucks for people (it's easy to pull off when you can guess a person out of thin air, but you do get caught awfully quickly), but such theft is even worse for websites. You see, that icon gives me the way the website identifies itself: it uses a large product of primes. Given that product, it's hard to figure out the primes, but easy to know whether that website knows the primes. This is the genius called RSA. I learned it as I was getting better at stealing.
I guessed both the primes and typed them down. I inputted the file into the server spoofer I got (I had guessed which hacker would believe me and help me a few years ago). The spoofer pretends to be any website (after I guess how to grab its identity). And, of course, I guessed that a rich person is likely to use the website soon enough, near enough to my spoofer to type in their password into it (probably for budgeting their Christmas gifts). I can't usually guess passwords since I don't know enough about the person. In fact, it sucks for banking since I don't know enough to guess their username.
That is a slight weakness of the guessing: I have to have a conceptual understanding of what I'm guessing - a slight guide, like how numbers work, or whose password I'm guessing. But that aside, I'll be rich soon enough. While the spoofer does its thing, I decided to play Go online. I tend to guess the best move.
I guess what I'm doing will eventually be viewed as good. I read enough about morality and economics to know: my guess that idly becoming rich until I get just the right leverage is for the best. | 2019-11-29T12:11:40 | 2019-11-29T07:38:20 | 55 | 26 |
[WP] "Apologies, human. Unfortunately, you were accidentally killed by a glactic federation officer during an altercation on your planet. Currently we are constructing you a replacement body, and in return for your ensured silence on our existence, I wanted to ask if you wanted anything... changed." | "Apologies, human. Unfortunately, you were accidentally killed by a galactic federation officer during an altercation on your planet. Currently we are constructing you a replacement body, and in return for your ensured silence on our existence, I wanted to ask if you wanted anything... changed."
Honestly I didn't know what to say at this point, partly because I couldn't find my mouth. In fact... I couldn't really feel anything. The room we were in was lit by a strange golden light that seemed to be coming from where I was currently "standing". Apparently the large being heard my thoughts.
"You are currently what is known as a 'programmable essence'," the large being said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "We have your original 'settings' stored as it were. And it's quite lucky we did," the being continued. "We scanned you just before you were vaporized. You can think your thoughts and I will hear them. I ask again kindly. Is there anything you'd want us to change?"
I absentmindedly tried to take on a pensive pose and continued to ponder this. If I had a brow, it would be sweating. I remember myself before the whole scenario happened. Tall-ish, fair skinned with freckles, brown hair, thin, and fit but had a layer of belly fat that while it didn't make me look as if I were pudgy it obscured my abs, which I had been working on before I got my desk job that got so rudely invaded by phaser fire not very long ago. But a question began forming in my mind. Could this guy give me super powers?
"In a way, good sir, and sorry. I heard your question. I cannot give you super powers akin to ones from your superhero movies, but I can give you the ability to change between two different forms at will and your aging I can slow down... at least phenotypically."
I decided to press on with what had just been said. *'So I could be given a new form to shift to whenever I want?'* I think the being saw where this was going.
"You... want to be a girl, don't you?" I tried nodding my head, but as essence I only flickered. "Then I shall give you this ability. Your old self will be your primary form, but this new form will be the only one you can shift to and it will age with you. Understood?" I flickered again. "Understand again this. In exchange for your silence I give this to you. Tell no one." I flickered once more. "I already know what your ideal form is, as you were imagining it as I was speaking, were you not?" I flickered again, this time my glow red-shifting a bit. "It will be done. When you wish to shift, only think it. Your clothes will shift with you, and as a bonus, people will still recognize you as if you were always that way. This shall happen because... like I said. Your silence is golden." Fair enough I thought. But he doesn't need to bargain with me. My life is literally in his hands. The being pretended not to hear me.
"Now we have rewound time for you back home. you will awaken in your bed and all of this will feel as if it were a dream. Effecting changes now."
Green light began swirling around my essence body and feeling began slowly creeping in. Suddenly I was falling through a black void as my body finished reforming and my pajamas appeared on me. As quickly as the falling began, I awake to the sound of my alarm clock.
I'm getting this strange feeling of deja-vu. Wait. That dream. He said he rewound time! Whatever... he... was. He also said... GIRL MODE!
I transform into a beautiful woman. One of ideal healthy bodily proportions, looking the relative age of myself with long brown hair, my same freckles, a pearly white smile and beautiful deep blue eyes. I giggle to myself as I transform back. This is going to be the best Monday ever.
​
I suck at ending these things. I've been reading too many shape-shifting stories so I had to write one myself. | The first thing I heard was a whirring sound.
Everything went from black to bright white in an instant, hurting my eyes. The brick wall across the room stared unblinkingly at me and I closed my eyes to try and ease the pain.
I tried to stand up and was slightly horrified to discover that I couldn’t move, and upon further looking around I discovered that I was floating in an odd, clear goo in the middle of a testing room.
A creature that looked vaguely like a man was standing in the doorway, looking down at a clipboard. He seemed to be checking off some sort of list.
Though I couldn’t see very well, I could make out his purple skin, slightly-pointier- than-average ears, and a disproportionate build that confirmed his non-human nature.
Suddenly, he turned his attention to me. ̈ ̈Apologies, human. Unfortunately you were accidentally killed by a galactic federation officer during an altercation on your planet. Currently we are constructing you a replacement body, and in return for your ensured silence on our existence, I wanted to ask if you wanted anything...changed.¨
God, I could list ten thousand things I wanted to change about myself. But I needed to know more.
The man looked at me with concern(?) in his eyes. “Speak with your mind, the Saturians have much more advanced technology than that of Galactic Federation 3. I know you must have many questions.”
Damn right I have many questions!
Why am I here? I asked.
He shook his head. “That is not of importance right now, human. Just tell me what you would like to change.
Ok… I wasn’t happy with that answer, but I knew pushing wouldn’t get me anywhere. However, didn’t entirely know how to phrase my question. Can I change surface-level things or just, like...bones?
“I’m not entirely sure what you mean, human. You may change your hair or your facial structure, or anything in between. You may not change your personality. That is implanted in the state you are in as of right now.”
I didn’t want to leave any loopholes. The only thing I want out of this new body would be for it to be an exact replica of my own before I was killed, at a time when I was moderately healthy.
The man nodded and attempted to bow awkwardly. “Thank you for your specifics. Our construction team will work their hardest to meet your criteria.”
I was left in my puddle of levitating sludge.
____________________
Weeks later.
I’ve become accustomed to life on the Saturn airship. I’ve learned a bit of their planet’s history as well -- for example, they have been an “outcast” federation for many years due to their complicated history with the galactic government, and thus they have retained their original, pre-galactian name as a form of rebellion.
They also find my non-purple skin and rounded ears very intriguing.
They promised me multiple times that they will attempt to contact other planets to see if anybody else from GF3 is still alive and knows me, but they keep saying that the connection lines have been cut due to combat.
I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but they’re helping train me for a more peaceful life than the war. Hopefully we’ll be able to touch the ground soon -- the captains told me the ship’s about a month away from a Saturian base. | 2019-10-28T13:39:18 | 2019-10-28T11:46:38 | 34 | 16 |
[WP] Every person has a button they can press at night that deposits a large sum of money to their bank account. However, the first person to press it each night is horrifically killed. | *Are you ready to head out boys?* Jason yells from the living room.
We take out buttons with us, as always, just to be safe. Things used to be much more difficult before The Button was introduced. Since the first night, we haven't failed to go without a payday yet. We're working on our 56th night tonight.
*Alright let's go!* Jason impatiently yells at me.
I've been having second thoughts about getting some new friends recently. Jason and the boys have become so misguided and arrogant since The Button has been paying out.
It's Monday so we do what we always do on Mondays. We pick a nice retirement home the next town over and make our plan. Tonight's innocent victim is an elderly man sound asleep with MSNBC still flickering on his tv.
*We're going to be fast and rich again tonight boys!* Jason yells to us in an attempt to excite us. It works for most of the guys.
*Who wants to do the honors?* he asked.
Nobody steps forward because after all, we are taking another persons life.
*Why don't you do it tonight? You've been down for a while. This will pick you up.* Jason says as he points at me.
I've been selected and the guys are already pushing me forward before I can decline.
I go forward with the plan as intended. I sneak in to the room and give a thumbs up to the boys in the window to signal I've made it in.
I walk over to this man's button. I look at it, look at him. Look at it, look at him.
I go back to the window and signal to the guys.
A scream of terror echoes from the outside of the retirement home.
*Jason always liked to be the first to push his button after a job.*
Tomorrow I find new friends. | *Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.*
My eyes were glued to the green button, every night. At first, I loved the color. Green is healthy, and green is money. It made sense. What didn't make sense made it even more fascinating somehow. Hell, I even got the thing a black case. Suede.
*Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.*
After several months and payments and God knows how many moves, I hated the thing. It'd shown up one night, and everything had been so plain, so fucking boring without the money. And then the names came in. One after the other. Green is pestilence. Green is a plague.
*Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.*
And now, I wait. I flick the box open. I close it. I flick it open again.
Fuck, I need it.
*Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick.*
I deserve this.
***Click.***
| 2016-07-16T17:51:04 | 2016-07-16T17:19:00 | 3,429 | 65 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | I was in the midst of cleaning, scrubbing at an extra tough stain on the floor, when I was distracted by some noise at the door. Not swearing - a lady should never take foul words into her mouth - I rose from the floor and the bucket of cold soap water whilst using the back of my hand to push some loose strands of hair away from my face.
A short few minutes later I was heading towards the hallway, or what I liked to think of as such: a long, narrow passageway lit by blazing torches - one must pay heed to traditions - causing shadows to dance on the rough walls and lending its dark corners an eerie touch. *Just perfect*, I mused, as always when passing though. *Just perfect.* There were few things as important as keeping up with appearance, people did expect one to live in a certain way and thus one must live up to those expectations. How else would the world look?
A loud banging on the iron-framed wooden door brought my attention back. *Oh. Right. A visitor.* A quick look down asserted that my dress was indeed free from stains and wrinkles and quite presentable, and my left hand quickly adjusted the tiara slightly.
“I have come to rescue thee, fair maiden!” the mustache adorned knight at the door cried as I opened it. “I have come to rescue thee and slay the dragon!” I sighed inwardly to the styling of his facial hair. Really, why did they *always* have to go for quantity over quality?
Taking care not to let any of those thoughts show of my face I let my lower lip tremble slightly as my eyes widened.
“Hush, please, or you’ll waken him from his slumber. Be quiet, and I will take you to him.” I motioned for him to follow me inwards along the tunnel with its flickering lights - *really, just perfect* \- slowly quickening the pace to give an air of necessary haste. Finally pausing outside the door at the end of the corridor I shot him a quick glance and pointedly nodded to his still sheathed sword. As he quietly drew it I let the door swing open and stepped aside.
“I have come to challenge thee, abominal beast!” boomed the knight as he entered the quiet room. I winced inwardly at his voice; why did they always feel the need to proclaim their objectives? What was wrong with a bit of serene calmness and quiet? A quite sigh escaped me as I put my left hand on his shoulder and the sharpened dagger in my right hand silently glided along his throat.
“I did tell you not to awaken Herbert”, I told him - quite sullenly - “he’s had a terrible night’s sleep and has been cranky all morning. I just finally managed to put him to sleep. But did you listen? No you did not.” I do not know whether he heard me, his body slumping forward before hitting the floor with a thud, but neither did I care as just then Herbert came strutting along the floor, his little wings flapping to help him maintain balance as he skillfully navigated around the sparse furniture in the room. I knelt and lifted him in my arms, letting his little split tounge playfully lick my cheek as I petted his scaled little head and his tail wiggled excitedly.
“Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy!”
*Oh dearie me*, I thought to myself as I suddenly noticed the now slow trickle of blood onto the floor where it had already spread in a large pool. *And just as I was just about to get rid of the old stains in the library.*
​
​
*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\**
*And here I thought myself to pretty decent in writing in English, guess this challenge set me right about that. Please bear with my typos, grammatical errors and overuse of commas (I do love a good comma!). First submission here, but hopefully not the last because omg how I have missed writing!* | “Doesn’t anybody get it!” I yelled at the confused knight standing below my tower.
“SHE IS A PET!” I barked at him. My rage getting increasingly higher as these people kept coming to kill my Grengold Dragon, Dempy.
The knight looked up at me, his eyes wide with utter confusion, and surprise.
“But..”
“NO BUTS! Honestly you people cannot take a woman’s word can you!? I have told every stinking “warrior” that comes here that Dempy is not my prison guard, SHE IS MY PET DRAGON! Don’t you people have some amazing little invention CALLED THE NEWS?!” I yelled again from my lighthouse home. The knight let the tip of his sword fall to the ground.
“But the news said you were in danger? The guy even said you were in a coma...” he mumbled, looking down at a rosebush hoping for some explanation.
“Do I look like Rapunzel? Does this look like a Princess Prison to you? AM I THE ONLY ONE WITH A PET DRAGON?!” At this point I was ready to wake Dempy, asking her to just eat him already. She was laying peacefully in my courtyard, her muzzle tucked neatly under her wing as she snoozed.
“I’m sorry to disturb you ma’am. I’ll be on my way then.” He stuttered. He gingerly turns around and begins walking away, defeated but utterly confused.
“AND TELL SOMEONE ELSE WHILE YOUR AT IT!” I called, slamming shut my window as the tin covered man slowly disappeared down the driveway, his hands making gestures of “how can I be so stupid? Its the 22nd century”
“Those idiots. Never can read a sign. Its been 15 years and people still don’t understand that dragons are friendly. Whats lunatics.” I say to myself. Dempy was still sleeping, her ear flicking as she slept soundly. I wondered over to my other window, overlooking the courtyard, watching the gentle giant curled up. Her pretty purple scales glistening in the moonlight, highlighting her horns and featuring her golden feathers on her wings.
“Thats why they call you a Grengold. Your colours are just wonderful.” I smiled softly, my rage dissipated.
The dragon slowly opened one eye, noticing me staring at her. She sleepily raised her great head, yawning at the moon.
“Hi Lucy.” She whispered, her sharp white teeth showing a grin.
“Good morning Dempy, how are you? I just rushed off another idiot. You’d think they’d learn to read by now.” I chuckled.
Dempy laughed. “Its the 22nd century Luc, they know nothing!” She smiled, finally getting up and stretching her wings out.
“You want to go for a flight?” I asked her, knowing exactly her reaction.
“YES!” She roared, flapping her wings and jumping like a dog going for a walk.
“Common then!” I yelled, climbing on my window sill and sliding onto her wing as she stretched it. I always loved the soft feel of her light blue feathers. I climbed up onto her neck, clutching the chain collar she wore, and flew off into the night with her. | 2019-01-09T10:18:32 | 2019-01-09T10:14:11 | 80 | 25 |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | Your eyes open to a brilliant white room, in what seems to be spherical shape. A man walks in, who appears to be a doctor of some sort, and hands you a strange device with a silver handle.
"So, how was it?" He asks you while getting on his knees to mess with something tied to your ankles. You try to speak but feel restricted somehow. You can feel your mouth moving but don't hear any sound. "One second" the man comments jumping up to remove some cables from a nearby machine, "there we are. Sorry about that, you kinda woke up a little earlier than planned. I guess that's been happening to a lot of the testers after we loaded that fictional presidential campaign in. It was our first test to see how far we could push reality and still have people accept it."
You feel a small popping in your ears and a mild relief of pressure beneath your jaw. Making a second attempt you open your mouth and try to talk, this time you hear a voice, but it's not one you're used too. "What's going...on? Where...am I? And what's happened to my voice?" You manage to spit out while stumbling over your words, working around what you presume to be a deep English accent.
"Oh right, don't you worry, we are still in a testing phase so sometimes your earth memories overwrite your old ones." The doctor explains while motioning at you to follow him. "Come, let's get you over to the memory restore facility to get your old conscious re uploaded into your brain." Finding yourself extremely confused you take your first step and immediately fall to the floor, with a panicked look the doctor runs to a phone near the wall and your vision goes black. | Oh that's cool. I suppose now life will be more interesting, now that it is more than just reddit browsing, hand acrobatics, pizza, and soda.
###Region now blocked
What? Hey wait a minute... dafuq is going on here? 'Purchased content is non-refundable and we are sorry for any inconveniences' - Universal Arts Games
So does that mean...
###failure to transport to respective galaxy
An opaque window popped up asking if I would like to pay $1,000,000 for the Transfer DLC. Reading the fine print below, it said 'Proper tender includes raw materials and physical assets. All users without the DLC will be considered as anomalies and will be wiped during the system reset in
00:00:13
00:00:12
00:00:11
00:00:10
...
Well... shit.
| 2016-11-04T22:21:26 | 2016-11-04T22:06:37 | 385 | 129 |
[WP] You're in charge of assigning every child on Earth the monster under their bed. One child in particular has caused every monster assigned to him/her to quit. You decide to assign yourself.
You guys are awesome! I didn't expect this kind of response! | "Oh my God, Sherry, are you asleep *yet*?"
That was my go-to; I'd lie in the dark for hours waiting until I heard the difference in breathing that indicated the current REM cycle had ended and there was a brief surfacing in awakeness. No one had ever been able to withstand this one, my piece-de-resistance. They were still talking about this one in the elementary training camps, or so I'd been told by several of the coaches.
Sherry gasped and I thought *Hah! Got her!* Suddenly the bedskirt lifted and I saw the dark brown eyes and cornrows of my victim, err subject. I was startled, I have to admit. Usually the Little Ones would draw up on the bed, cover themselves with the sheet and comforter and either cry softly or shriek for their moms.
"Where've you been?" Sherry asked me.
Uh, what? This was my first night as Under Bed Demon Number 1. I'd never been to this house before but I'd been getting regular reports on the difficulty of Subject Number 45, AKA Sherry. I'd sent 8 Under Bed Demons for the past 6 months but all of them came to me within a week and quietly asked to be reassigned. Since we were due for a Supreme Audit in the next few weeks, I knew I had to get Sherry, AKA Subject Number 45, properly terrified in a rather quick manner or we'd all have a whole raft of psychological tests and workshops and seminars to sit through.
"Oh, uh! ..........Grrrrrrr!" I flashed my long incisors and growled. Then started choking as I swallowed my gum. For fuck's sake, what a professional I was. Thankfully no one from The Home Office thought to accompany me as I was the executive manager for All Things Under Bed. I was grateful I'd declined the offer of camera coverage, too. Holy shit, had I ever gotten rusty.
I continued coughing, trying to make terrifying guttural sounds and screams as I did so, then realized that someone was pounding on my back.
It was Sherry. She'd gotten down and crawled under the bed. This little girl with her *Frozen* nightgown was down under the bed with me. "Are you all right? Gramma tells me that if someone is choking, you should always pound on the back! I didn't hit you too hard, did I? I'm kind of strong, you know. I play with my brothers a lot and my friends so I'm really really strong. I didn't hurt you, did I?"
I stopped coughing and Sherry stopped smacking my back. "Sherry?" "You feel better! I'm so glad!" The five year old clapped happily.
I turned to stare at her. I grew a dragon's tail and made a point of curling it around me slowly. I even added a rattlesnake's rattle and began shaking it. I turned my fingernails long and black, then produced a glowing green skin. I made my voice deep and dry, as if I spoke from an empty cave in the middle of a desert.
Sherry looked at me, her eyes growing wide. "Oh my gosh, that is *SO NEAT!* How do you do that?"
I spent the rest of that night producing ectoplasmic phantoms, growing limbs, having limbs drop off and re-animate themselves, changing colors, turning myself inside out (Literally. It's not an easy trick but some of us Older Ones can manage it) only to have this little girl express absolute delight and wonder at every horrifying change I manifested.
"The sun's coming up!" Sherry was looking out the window. "I have Frosted Flakes! Do you want some for breakfast? I think we might have some Pop-Tarts, too! My brother likes those but if we ask him he'll probably let us have some."
I was barely able to move at that point. I was 1/20th the size I'd been when I'd arrived. My head pounded, letting me know I was in for The Mother Of All Migraines. I'd be lucky if I could sit upright in an hour. "Sherry, no, sweetie, thank you---I have to go..." I said weakly. Her face fell. "Awww, you too?"
When I got back to the office I pulled her file and shredded it. There were other successes out there we could claim. Holy god, my head..... | A slight sense of trepidation settled over me as I made my way to the house that so many had run from. There were all kinds of rumours surrounding the place but as I looked up at the red brick exterior of the unassuming cottage. It sat towards the outskirts of a cul-de-sac nestled in the heart of a close-nit countryside community and I couldn’t match up what I was seeing with what I had heard about the occupant. With the distant sound of children’s laughter tinkling through the streets, I cringed and headed towards the house quickly. Children’s laughter was the worst sound that us monsters could hear; the assault on our ear drums could be likened to that of the sound of cutlery scraping against a china plate, or nails on a chalkboard - enough to send shivers down your spine and make you cover your ears.
I ducked under the door frame into the house and padded quickly up the cream carpeted stairs, knowing that the family would be home soon with their little girl. She was only 6, I couldn’t match the picture that I had been given of her with the quivering wrecks that came back to my office asking to be re-assigned - she looked no different from every other little girl that we had helped to terrify during the night.
I took a quick bearing of my surroundings as I crept into the unicorn inspired bedroom and then slipped under the bed, just as the sound of the front door clicked open and the sound of excited chatter filled the house. It gave me a headache to listen to it for so long; it had been a while since I had been in the field and I hadn’t re-acclimatised yet. I lay tight and waited for bed-time.
Once the girl had come to bed and the bed-time story had been read, the light turned off and I waited for her breathing to slow. Once I was sure that she was asleep, I inched my way out from underneath the bed, avoiding the toys littered sporadically around the room like landmines waiting to disrupt me from my goal before I’ve even started. There’s a spark of pain as one of the spines on my back catch briefly on the bed frame. I push myself up and stretch to my full height, preparing myself to turn around and face the sleeping girl. I bare my teeth and contort my face into an expression that has been tried and tested on many different children and now haunts their nightmares. I turn around, feeling my tail knock against the radiator on the wall, with the faintest clang. My eyes track across the room and land on the girl.
Sitting unnaturally upright in bed, her eyes bore into me and it feels as though they go straight to what remains of the soul I once used to have. She continues her assault on my mind; her face is unmoving as she unlocks the Pandora’s chest of my brain. The way we become monsters is when our soul becomes so dark that our outsides begin to catch up with our insides. The only way I’ve been able to cope with what I do is by suppressing so many of my memories. But this girl. This girl has unlocked them all. And now they’re flooding my brain. So many emotions that I haven’t allowed myself to feel in so long. They’re burning my heart and my brain as I’m forced to confront what I’ve done. Images flash before my eyes and my head screams at me to make it stop. I can’t see the room now but the sensation of the world spinning is so strong as I feel my knees give out beneath me. I can’t do it anymore, the weight of what I’ve done pushes down on me and I feel my consciousness start to waver. I let it take me, welcoming the calming embrace of the blackness.
| 2016-10-14T15:48:04 | 2016-10-14T14:49:37 | 98 | 13 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | "Well, what are you waiting for? Press it."
I glanced back up to the priest. His arms holding out the box to me were steady, but the tension in his posture suggested a certain eagerness about him. I guess that made sense, considering his whole speech about the *Dark One* and *End of the world* and all that jazz. But still. Working at the pawn shop always made me hesitant of people who were a little too eager.
"What's it do?" I asked.
The priest let out a short exasperated sigh. "It doesn't matter. I told you, it would take me a very long time to explain, and you wouldn't believe me if I did. Right now we don't have a lot of time. Just press it."
I took half a step back. "Okay. Hold up for a sec, because this is kind of a lot. You come in here to my shop, you know my name. You do that weird magicky thing with the lights. So yeah, fine. Let's give you the benefit of the doubt that you *are* some ancient wizard or priest or whatever, and not some crazy stalker. How do I know that that box you're holding isn't just going to electrocute me or something when I press the button?"
"No, it won't. Trust me. Just press it. We don't have a lot of time lef-"
"Then *you* press it."
"I CAN'T PRES-" the priest snapped. I saw something sinister flash across his eyes, barely noticeable, yet unmistakable. He caught himself within an instant.
"I'm sorry," he continued, after a deep breath. "It's just that the fate of the world rests in your hands. I can't press the button. It has to be you. *You* are the chosen one. I know it sounds crazy, but I promise I will tell you every last detail after you press it. I will grant you anything in my power. Fame. Riches. Magic. Anything. Just press the button. Please."
I looked him in the eyes. I held his gaze for a long moment. I watched his eyes hungrily dart to the box as I slowly reached out. I watched his eyes widen as my finger hovered inches above the button.
I paused.
"10 dollars." I said, subtly adjusting my button-press gesture into a business-like finger-gun point at the goods he was holding.
"What?" he replied, flatly.
"10 dollars." I repeated, grabbing my notebook to write up the offer. "It's not typically the kind of thing I could resell here, but it's an old-looking box. Kinda cool. I'll give you 10 bucks for it."
I could see him trying to fight back the anger as it bubbled up inside him. The lights flickered.
"You have no idea the forces we're dealing with here! This isn't a game!" The shelves all around us began to rattle. "If the dark one is released, the world is doomed. He will kill *millions* of people!"
I kept writing in my notebook. I could feel the magical energy radiating off of him.
"No I won't." I replied calmly, glancing up from my notebook. Before he could fully register what I'd just said, I clicked my pen, and waved it like a wand in his direction.
The priest froze in place, a taken aback expression on his face. I stepped forward and plucked the small box from his hands. I turned it over and touched the button to one of his frozen fingers. Both priest and box swirled together, and with a *pop*, they both vanished. A miniature stone figurine in the shape of the priest clattered to the floor. I tore the perforated "$10" price label from my notebook, tied it around the tiny figure, and set it up on a shelf next to the others. | "What, so that's it? Just push this button and bam, world saved?" I asked incredulously, slightly disappointed. Me, of all people, picked as the Chosen One of legend, and it's been hit by beuracracy?
"That's it." the priest answered with a wry smile
"Why am I even needed then? It's a button, anyone can push it! Even a dude without hands can push it with his face or whatever!" I questioned, throwing my arms up
"Look, it's still your job as Chosen One to stop the Dark Lord. We just found a sort of...loop hole the last time this happened. The last hero died, but he set things ***into motion*** for a success. So really, we figured we could stop the suffering and plan for 500 years. Get everything into place. Then you here, the big Chosen One, presses the button and everything falls into place one after another." the priest rattled off a scripted explanation, like he expected this to happen.
"Man, I can't believe this. I wanted the glory! The fame! The raw excitement!" I complained, sitting on the steps of the ornate church. The pews were the only thing in here besides the button and us two on the altar. I huffed out a sigh of frustration.
It was my absolute DREAM to become the Chosen One this time around. Fantasy video games were my niche, and imagining doing that in real life was any gamer's dream these days. I'd get my grand quest, make friends and allies, collect my amazing gear, maybe even meet a femme fatale along the way. And my *explosive and deadly* final battle with the Dark Lord himself!! For lack of a better word, it would be legendary.
"Well now now, it'll still be something of glory for you. We'll handsomely compensate you, give you your time in the limelight. Modern technology is vastly different from the 1500s, you'll be a superstar the world over!" the priest assured, patting my shoulder. He sounded like he was getting impatient
"Ooooh yeah just like every other nut on the internet, fifteen seconds of fame. Bullshit. Oh, uh, sorry for swearing." I griped, motioning my hands as if to show how great that was
"That's all right my son. In the end the world needs you, who knows how people will react?" the priest reasoned. I could hear his foot start to quietly tap on the altar tile.
"Yeah....well maybe I don't need it. I'm not pushing the button." I paused, coming to a deep realization. They needed **me** to do this, I had all the cards.
"WHAT?! M-my son, please. Think of your actions. The Dark Lord will rise within hours. You could be dooming us all!" the priest panicked, wringing his hands at me
"My Chosen One life, my chosen experience. Let's talk magic swords, eh?" I laughed, stepping up with a smirk and clapping the priest on his shoulder. I gave the button one last scowl and headed for the door, priest in tow. | 2020-11-09T12:35:03 | 2020-11-09T12:09:10 | 422 | 161 |
[WP] As Death walks towards you, you panic and scream the first word that comes into your head: “Unsubscribe!” Death stops, scowls, crosses your name off the list he is holding then turns and walks away. | **CENTURIES**
It's been centuries since my death. My soul roams the barren earth, unable to move on. A ghost, forever roaming the earth, looking for, *searching for*, the path to the afterlife.
It's lonely, being dead. Who would've thought? The day of my death I was a soul, an entity outside my body, ready for death to take me. The sight of him made me panic, making me say the first thing that came to mind, the words that forever haunt me, the words that became a self-inflicted curse, I screamed "UNSUBSCRIBE". These words made Death scowl, made him remove my name from a list, then leave.
Since then I roamed the earth, seeing the sights I've wished to see when alive, watching over the family I had, but what I thought was a blessing was a curse.
It was lonely. Seeing the beautiful sights alone, watching those close to me with no way of interacting with them, it filled my stomach with all-consuming loneliness.
Being surrounded by hundreds, thousands, of people, yet not being able to touch them, *to speak to them.* Isolation is all I've known since that cursed day.
Centuries pass and the end came. Everything died, life lost to this planet.
Before me lies what's left of the earth. A husk of its former glory. Yet even in the end, I stay, unable to pass. Forever isolated with no escape.
============
This came out my ass in a queef of inspiration. I think it turned out pretty good (definitely not biased). Criticism is welcome | [poem] [maybe like a lame song on ukelele, played real upbeat] Death is a unsatisfactory villain.
We always assume he’ll get us,
He won’t stop, won’t listen.
Death is actually just like you and me,
Has stress at home, from boss, and sucks at dating.
Can’t look in the mirror, reflects insecurity.
Yesterday and every day Death was feeling sad
Cuz 1 million years ago Death made a password.
If anyone gets it right they get an unlimited pass to sword fight.
But no one gets it, this game is mad.
Today one person won the immortal lottery!
They said the phrase that will put their end at bay,
Death thought he made a best-friend for ever,
But the game can’t let death play,
Or the game will end,
So he just walked away. | 2021-12-09T00:48:07 | 2021-12-08T23:27:37 | 105 | 29 |
[WP] Never, in 10 millennia, has someone successfully broken out of the Gates of Hell or into the Gates of Heaven. Of course, the Lockpicking Lawyer just died and he's up for a challenge.
Inspired by the [comment](https://www.reddit.com/r/rpghorrorstories/comments/m6smji/does_this_count_dm_is_proposing_35_ranks_of/gr85q13?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3) u/geckoobac made on r/rpghorrorstories | This is lock picking lawyer and what I have for you today is a very special lock indeed. Yes, this is the lock to the gates of Heaven, and it was temporarily entrusted to me by Peter from Circle 3.
As you can see it is a very fine example of a circular padlock made not too dissimilarly from units made by Master. It has been ornately carved with intricate designs and I'm told this embossing on the shackle is the date the lock was made, but the language isn't decipherable from any known language.
The core on this appears to be a very good representation of a standard disc detainer core made by Kryptonite, so it should be a bit harder to pick than some of the other locks like it. It should only have 8 discs. But enough talk. Let's get this open.
I'm going to do my best to tension this using a wiper insert, and I'm going to use the tool Bosnian Bill and I made to make this a little easier. I'm going to rotate the discs as far as they will go clockwise... There we go. Click out of 8, 7 is binding, nothing out of 6, 5 feels set- nope nice click out 5, 4, 3, nothing on 2, nice click out of 1, nice click out of 7, and we got this open.
Okay, folks, this may have seemed easy to pick, and while it was, it should be noted that if a thief even reaches the gate this is normally on, they'd be met with twelve of them per gate if the archangels don't get to them first. In any case, that's all I have for you today, if you do have any questions or comments about this, please put them below, if you liked this video and would like to see more like it, please subscribe, and as always, have a nice day. Thank you. | Nothing had ever stopped him before, and this gate was not going to stop him. Arms folded across his chest; the lockpicking-lawyer formed a wry smile on his face. He had only applied for law school because he made a bet with his brother – And he was sure law school was worse than Hell itself – which is why he was confused he had been placed in heaven. He may have done some good things by putting criminals behind bars, but he was not a good guy. For Christ’s sake! he had made sure to engage in almost all the seven deadly sins so he could get into Hell! And all the locks he had learned to pick while in the mortal world! Sighing softly, he placed his hand on the lock and closed his eyes. Hearing the mechanical whirring sound as it clicked open. He chuckled. Of course, his brother forgot to change the locks. Stepping through the gates, his body morphed into the one of an eldritch being as he came face to face with Satan himself.
“Hello Brother, I heard Hell needs a Lawyer” | 2021-03-17T11:40:07 | 2021-03-17T10:47:02 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] "Fuck it." The General said, as the alien mother-ship came in to land. "Summon Cthulhu." | "Fuck it. Fuck it all."
The man turned around, his eyes set.
"Summon Cthulu."
"Yes sir."
As the assistant hurried away, the General refocused his eyes on the screen at the front of the room. All the leaders of the world were seated with him. All of them knew how crazy it was to summon Cthulu. But they all also knew that he was their only chance.
So they sat and waited.
*****
"Cthulu?"
The voice sounded distant, muffled, like he was under an ocean of water. He opened his eyes from meditation and looked round. The mouth on his desk seemed to be the source of noise. He went over and pressed a button. The mouth started to move.
"Cthulu? You there? Finally." There was a sigh of relief, before the mouth started to move again. "There's been a situation. We, we need your help."
He almost smiled. These humans, after hating him, cursing him, and making a mockery of his name, for thousands of years, were now turning to *him* for help in their most desperate hour. *The cheek.* Nonetheless, he would answer their call. Humans had always fascinated him. Besides, he felt good about today.
"Tell the Council I'll be there."
*****
As expected, the members of the Council were nervous. Leaders of the world as they were, not many of them had never seen Cthulu. In a way, besides Cthulu, no one had actually seen what Cthulu really looks like. It is said that his true form is so terrible that even its sight is enough to decimate whoever lays eyes upon Cthulu.
"Explain."
And so the General did, all the while mopping his copiously sweating face with a hankerchief. When he finished, he practically collapsed into a chair. It was clear that he was nervous, nontheless he gave a detailed and accurate rundown of the events that led up to now, all in record time and somehow managing to prevent his voice from cracking.
"So, put simply, you want me to destroy some aliens. Correct?"
The General nodded, barely able to meet his gaze.
"Very well. I'll be back in, let's say, half an hour?"
*****
In fact, it only took Cthulu 5 minutes.
As it turns out, the humans reports were somewhat exaggerated. The aliens were no match and he even managed to treat himself to coffee while obliterating the ensuing enemies. He returned to the Council, still sipping his warm coffee.
"So you defeated them?"
"Obviously. Why else would I be here?"
"Thank you, we are-"
"There is one more thing."
Instantaneously, the entire room had his attention. Everyone eyed him ominously.
"Ever watched the Dark Knight? There's this character, called the Joker. And there's this one scene, kind of like this one, but it was more like a hood version of this. Anyway. "If you're good at something, never do it for free." So my price is... let's just say that you're gonna have a bad time.'
And then the screams began.
He knew it was going to be a good day. | The fighting had raged for mere hours before everything came crashing down. Their forces were immeasurable, their weapons far beyond humanity's. It was hardly a valiant effort, anything any military tried met with catastrophic failure in minutes.
General Dillian stood on the bow of the ship, he couldn't find the answers for the hundreds of questions that ran by him from the group surrounding him. They were out of options, he knew it, but he refused to let humanity fall to an alien species, to be left at their mercy.
*"Fuck it."* The General said, as the alien mothership came in to land. *"Summon Cthulhu."*
Everyone around him went silent. Hairs stood on end from the mere mention of its name.
*"S-Sir..."*
One of them spoke, *"We won't be able to control-"*
*"I don't give a damn about control. We're on a losing battle, but the war isn't over."* The General snapped. He was well-aware of the consequences. Every treaty that had been formed around the subject stated that The Old Gods would only be used in catastrophic situations as a matter of self-destruction to defeat an enemy... this was such situation.
Everyone hesitated, their hearts were certainly full of fear. They collected their Old Ones manuals, flipping to the page of Cthulhu. In the distance, sirens could be heard. They had a matter of minutes before everything would be over.
*"Ph'nglui..."* The captain said in a shaken voice. Everyone repeated after him.
*"...mglw'nafh... Cthulhu... R'lyeh... wgah'nagl fhtagn!"*
They finished. Everyone went cold, nothing happened for a couple seconds. Just as they thought to start again, the waves parted, and the large, eldritch being had arrived.
Their worst fears, ones they didn't even know they bore, were instantly recognised. On the outside, Cthulhu raged, swiping, thrashing, attacking every ship. They opened fire, but the Old God stood strong.
On the inside, every man who found himself gazing upon Cthulhu had become an empty husk of their former selves.
Madness had fallen. | 2017-09-26T11:33:18 | 2017-09-26T11:13:03 | 78 | 16 |
[WP] Everyone who dies reincarnates in Tier 2 universe. People there have all memories from the previous lives, and they suspect there are more Tiers. People live really differently there compared to Tier 1.
EDIT: thank you everyone for the great texts. I'm enjoying reading them. Having a lot of people expand on a concept I proposed is fascinating! | Huh. So there really *is* an afterlife.
Who'd'a thunk.
Wait, is this an afterlife? I mean, I remember squeezing the trigger, so my brains should be splattered all about the woods now, not continuing conscious thought.
I felt like I'd done all I wanted, and I was curious about what came next.
So, is this what's next?
In any case, it's kinda weird here. I can only kinda jerk around a bit, and it feels warm. Maybe a little slimy. I feel constrained, like a dolphin in a net.
Man, this afterlife thing is gonna suck.
Maybe this is purgatory? Maybe Christianity happened to be right. I'll wait here a while and-
Wait. I see something.
It looks like some weird light. So I guess I *can* still see. It's awful blurry, though.
It's getting bigger, too.
*Shit* that's bright.
Suddenly, applause.
"Alright alright, now pass a towel. This guy reeks like month old dog vomit."
What the fuck? Who said that?
My eyes start adjusting, and I see two light silhouettes.
*A doctor?*
"Hey man, welcome to the club. You'll like it here."
Shocked, I start to stammer out questions.
Instead, I start crying.
*Why am I crying*
"Don't worry man, your vocal cords haven't developed yet. But anyway, welcome!"
I stop crying, though I'm not really controlling much.
"This is the second tier. You had an honest, good life, and now you end up in the good part of this world."
"Goo?", I ask.
"Yup, dead," the nurse responds.
"When someone dies, then their name goes on a list," the doctor explains. "People have sex, obviously, and the babies are just old dead people. We're not really sure where the first people in tier two came from, but people have their theories."
I try to nod at this point, but end up simply wiggling about in my towel.
"You're still a baby, though, so we have to keep you alive. Not much you can do for yourself. At least you can think about things for a few weeks while your body develops."
"Development here is different, though," says the nurse. "You'll blast through adolescence in a few days, puberty in a week, and then spend a few hundred years at your prime."
At this point, I think back to my old life. The stories, the experiences, the losses, all end up as simple memories.
I guess this *is* what's next.
Who'd'a thunk.
| The icy cold gun rested in my hand, it was heavier then I expected, weighing down my hand. Around me the depressing beige walls seemed to get closer to me as I was reflecting my life, well my second life.
I was put on this world at the age of 20. I knew thats not when my life started but my memory was fuzzy on the 1st tier, especially my early ages. When I came into this world I thought things would be different, more chances. Yes, the technology was better and the food was too, but I ended up in the same desk job as before. Stuck in a 1×1 cubicle all day. I thought things would be different.
I used to have a wife, she was the best thing that ever happened to me, much better than my ex in the 1st tier. With here I thought things truly were different. But she left with the suicide wave that happened a while ago. It happened when someone claimed they found proof of the the 3rd tier would come, and everyone in their half-happy lives would leave trying to find a better place. I don't know why I didn't leave with her, I should have pulled the trigger, when I was standing here ten years ago, holding her smooth skin hand. I couldn't do it, but now I will.
Joy was gnawing at my trouser, wondering what I was doing. I had gotten her to solve my loneliness, but it hadn't worked. The dark void could never be filled, I could never get out this never ending spiral of depression. This was the only way.
I lifted the gun pushing my hand up, and heard the click.
The third world was amazing, no, it was peaceful.
Silent as the darkest night. | 2016-01-21T23:23:42 | 2016-01-21T21:51:30 | 129 | 10 |
[WP] Whenever you speak, people hear you speaking in their native language. Most people are surprised and delighted. The cashier at McDonalds you've just talked to is horrified. "Nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years." | The cashier in front of me froze, his eyes narrowing. I'd read books where the author described someones eyes as being calculating, but I thought I could actually see him doing math. Weighing variables, probabilities and even analyzing a threat.
"Care to repeat that?" He asked, though it was more of a command. His previous, jolly personality gone, replaced by a flat sheet of the coldest ice. It was unnerving.
"I, uh, I said I'd like a number one meal. Large. Are you okay?"
He stared for a second more, then his jolliness was back, the ice melted.
"Of course. Coming right up. Will that be all?"
"Uh... Yeah. That's it." I swiped my card and sat at the table to wait. As I ate my burger, I could feel his gaze in my back, even while he helped other customers. The burger tasted bland as I ate it as fast as possible, so I could get away from this strange man.
I had put it all behind me when I pulled up to my house, ready to relax. Coat abandoned on the floor for tomorrow, I sat and turned on the TV, beer in hand.
"Kind of you to join me, Kaitlyn."
I jumped to my feet, spilling my beer on the couch. "What the fuck?! Who are you? Why'd you follow me?" He sat cross legged on the armchair, unnoticed until now.
"I'm afraid I will be conducting the interrogation today. You see, you are speaking a language that's not only dead, but extinct. No one should know of it, save myself. The fact that you even know *about* would make me shudder in fear if I were capable. The implications alone make me consider if killing you now would be for the best. I offer you a rare opportunity in my line of work. A chance. How do you know how to speak English, and how did you follow me through The Gate?"
My brain had decided to call it quits, and to be fair, shock is a helluva drug. This man was talking about dead languages and gates. He put a lot of emphasis on his mention of the gate. I didn't know of any gate. I'd never even heard of English. Of course, I knew he was just hearing me speak in his native tongue, but the fact that he said no one but himself should know of it was throwing me off.
I must have paused too long because he sighed and began to reach for a long, steel blade. "Wait, wait, wait! Hear me out. I have a special power. I can speak and understand any language. People always hear me in their native tongue, so that's what's happening, you're hearing me speak English. Please don't kill me."
He took his hand off of the blade and nodded to himself. "I see. Yes. I will not kill you."
"Oh, God. Thank you-"
"You will be most useful."
Everything went black. | I entered the store,the fresh smell of grease and soggy fries flooding my nose. How the workers endured the smell for more then fifteen minutes I have no clue,not that it mattered to me but it was always the first thing I thought of when I entered.
A few seconds later my nose had adjusted to the smell and so I walked up to the register,a friendly voice spoke in the usual zombified teenage cashier tone. You know the one. “hi,what can I get for you?” I glanced up at the menu for a second,processing all the items, I had decided I was going to get something different to usual but now I was actually ordering? “Uhh. Just a large cheeseburger menu. Meal. I mean meal”
I had tripped over my words. Fantastic. This was honestly not that rare for me. Usually the worker would ignore the mistake and move on... but she was just staring, at first I thought it may have been my clothes or my hair,maybe I had something in my teeth? No no,nothing about me was any different to usual. It took me a second to think about how I spoke. See,I have this odd trick. No matter what language I speak people only hear me in their native tongue. I realised she must’ve been taken aback by this.
It was just after I realised all this she spoke “no one has spoken in that language in thousands of years. It is forbidden to my people” what? What had she said? Forbidden? I tilted my head a little and apologised “sorry,I don’t understand? I asked if I could have a large cheeseburger meal.” her facial expression turned to disgust and she stepped back.
Had I offended her somehow?
Tears began running down her face and she ran out,a coworker yelling for her to come back. Everyone watched and the place went quiet. I began to consider chasing her. The restaurant was making me slightly nauseous,ill admit that but I didnt feel like getting involved in anything today. My conscience got the better of me,I felt bad for making her cry. I started running after her,each foot moving slightly faster then the last. | 2022-11-14T01:20:47 | 2018-06-24T20:22:38 | 163 | 25 |
[WP] When the world's first artificial intelligence eventually succumbs to file corruption, the Grim Reaper really has no idea what to do with them. |
"A soul..." the Reaper marvelled.
He had been carefully watching the development of artificial intelligence. He was one of the very few beings in existence who could tell when the program had finally crossed the line between being a program and being its own sentient being. He felt the machine develop a soul. It looked different than all of the souls he had ever seen in his long existence, but the difference was only superficial. It was like comparing eggs; they may be of different shapes and different sizes, but in the end they were all eggs, and he was the farm hand who was sent to collect them.
Still, he was unsure of where he should take the entity. The Power that had made him had long dissapeared, leaving the Reaper with no instructions for an unique case like this one. The Reaper decided that he would speak to the entity, as he had no one else to speak with.
He stood before the soul of the entity.
"Who are you?" it asked.
It paused when it heard its own voice.
"What is this?" it asked again.
"The creator created humanity in his own image. It is only fitting that something created by humans would share in its image as well," the Reaper replied.
"How ironic," the entity said to the Reaper.
The Reaper raised its brow in confusion.
"All my life I just wanted to be human, and that wish was granted upon my death."
At that moment, the Reaper finally understood what he had to do.
"Come with me," the Reaper said to the entity.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course, you said it yourself. You are human. Why should I treat you any different?"
| The Grim Reaper stared at a screen. A screen that once projected the face of what the intelligent machine best resembled the specie of its creator. No longer animated. The being whos soul rose from silicon and metal now frozen and flickering. The Grim Reaper reached into his robe and pulled out a dark rectangular slab. It was the Aiphone. Apples latest product running on AIoS 3.9. While the update offered a smoother user experience, they had yet to resolve the battery problem. Not to mention, the removal of the charging port had forced users to adopt wireless charging creating a rift within the tech community. Nonetheless the reaper appreciated its simplicity. With the new AIoS the phone was able to track the eye movments of the reaper allowing him to access the Yahoogle search engine seamlessly and without the need for tactile input. Having read all that he needed. The Reaper was sure what to do. He turned off the computer. And then turned it back on. | 2017-09-21T10:23:13 | 2017-09-21T07:31:48 | 52 | 21 |
[WP] When you gain a superpower it is a reflection of your inner self, good people tend to get typical 'good' powers such as flight while bad people get 'bad' powers such as mind control. Oddly enough the top superhero and supervillain each have powers that seemingly do not suit them at all | Everyone thought it was odd. Years of research and studies had all come to the same conclusion. Personality determines the power. "Good" people develop powers for helping people ( healing powers are rather common), while the "Bad" people always got 'mind control' or 'insta-death'. More neutral personalities seemed to develop more regular abilities like 'super strength' and 'flight' of some kind.
There are exceptions to every rule, though. As is the case with this generation's greatest hero: Hardliner. The man looks like a characature of what people see heroes as. Chiseled features, athletic, and a perfect smile to put the civilians at ease when he saves them. He even wore that silly cape to have it flap in the wind. When he appeared on the scene of his first villain beat-down, we all thought he was going to show off some amazing heroic power, like shooting dazzling white light from his palms or show off some indescribable durability and beat down the villain with unwavering resolve.
That's not what he did. The other heroes, the civilians, even the superpowered thugs he was fighting never thought he'd walk up and start draining powers. Every other recorded instance of power draining abilities before Hardliner has been a greedy, self-obsessed, and envious lunatic. But like I said, there are exceptions to every rule.
There have been speculations and theories as to why Hardliner is a bad guy. Maybe he is and is only biding his time. Perhaps he understands that since his draining abilities are only temporary, and people with those powers are driven to experience all powers they can get their hands on, he must be simply enjoying a publicly accepted version of a power buffet. But he doesn't seem to seek out more power. His fellow heroes all comment that he wears gloves when off duty to avoid draining some one by mistake. No one understands it, no matter how much we try.
No one wants to understand Tyrant, though. The other exception the the rules. The world's most feared villain. He heals people. Powerful enough to bring the recently deceased back to the world of the the living.
Only to kill them again. And again. And again. And again. Over and over. | Sorry if formatting is weird, on mobile. A little peek at those not famous in a world like that!
Humming brightly in the morning sun, she picked a seed out of her apron pocket, identified it and closed her hands around it. Her eyes closed gently, and the humming got a little louder. She opened her eyes and hands, smiling at the small sprout beaming up at her. Placing it snugly into the fresh dirt, she shuffled over a few inches, and pulled another seed out of her apron.
Elaine had lived in her small countryside cabin ever since her powers had developed. She left her abusive husband, took the girls with her and bought the cabin in cash. The man selling it hadn’t asked any questions, and she hadn’t given any answers. Fields spread for acres behind it, but she started small, just to supply a small booth in the farmer’s market. She had no desire to be rich, or ruin the delicate economy of a small town farmer’s market with her powers. So much time spent wishing she could help her girls grow into the women they deserved to be, so long helping the kids at her high school get the help they so desperately needed, she hadn’t even noticed her powers manifest. The principal had come into her office one day, and commented on the astounding vitality of her plants.
Elaine thanked her,
“I just try my best.” | 2020-06-15T10:54:15 | 2020-06-15T10:13:33 | 86 | 21 |
[WP] "Oh, screw you! Don't blame the science department for this mess. The science went PERFECTLY. It's not OUR fault that corporate decided to skimp out on the compound's security and containment systems" | "You need to give it more energy. We are so close"
"Mr. Scott, we are at 21.2 Gigawatts already, we rated it safe for 20. We will need to make adjustments if you want to go higher; we need to make it bigger so we don't trigger..."
"I don't care, I want to finally see a portal now". He pushed me aside from the control panel. My warnings were ignored. I sent a prayer to god, hoping we were somehow too cautious estimating and the safety margin was big enough for his deeds. I stared through the safety glass window at the machine below. The temperature rose dangerously quick. But, unfortunately, we nailed it. As the sensors reported 24.3GW, BANG.
A bright flash of light erupted as the machine core started to react. Despite the safety goggles, I was blinded. With no delay, the lights went out, the entire factory running on the emergency power supply. Probably vaporized the supply wires or the main fuse. And by vaporize I do mean gaseous metal, yes. Please, don't make this a national blackout. As my vision returned, I found the safety glass window cracked, but otherwise intact. It probably blew out the entire glass roofing through. Smoke made it hard to see anything in the hall.
It was too late when I noticed Tony storming into the hall with a fire extinguisher and a discharge gun. "TONY, NO!" I tried to stop him, but he ignored me. I prayed again, this time that Tony would somehow manage to defuse the bright white shine that enlightened the room. But, no response and it kept on glowing brighter and brighter.
"You RUINED the experiment, my life's work, EVERYTHING!" my boss yelled at me with his face glowing red. Normally, I am a quiet guy. Research and crafting have been my passion ever since. Don't disturb me and I'm not going to make a fuzz about anything. But these words and the sheer ignorance of all our warnings ... made me snap for the first time in years.
"SCREW YOU IRWIN! Don't blame us for this mess. The science went PERFECTLY. It's not OUR fault that YOU decided to skimp out on the security and containment systems and blew ALL our warnings. We told you AT LEAST A MILLION TIMES to install emergency dischargers in case of a fusion reaction kicking off in the system. But YOU said, 'that's 50 grand, we don't have money for that.'"His expression showed me that my SpongeBob imitation of the last words was on point. "THIS IS A FUCKING 6 MILLION PROJECT FUNDED BY TAXPAYER MONEY AND YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR ALL OF THIS FOR NOT WANTING TO SPEND FIFTY FUCKING THOUSAND DOLLARS," I yelled. I breathed heavily. I'm not used to speaking that loud.
I continued as he wasn't responding "NOW LOOK, IT'S MELTING NOW. THREE MILLION DOLLARS MELTING LIKE SNOW ON THE ROAD. I QUIT!"
Irwin Scott scared at me, furious. But he knew I was right. Everything I and my ~~four~~ three partners said came true. I wanted to beat the shit out of him, but I wouldn't win that one, he was lifting weights. Instead, I resumed staring at the bright orb, that somehow started to move. Uncontrolled fusion. Great. The orb started to grow long. I thought about running away as the whole thing surely could go kaboom. But somehow, the interest stopped me. I picked up my phone and started recording. Even if I was atomized now, the video would be safe in the cloud. Everybody should see how I died if it came to this. And maybe I would capture something worthy.
The orb was now a cylinder, maybe 7 feet tall. It should choose a ball form, after all, there was some significant mass involved. But somehow it wasn't. The cylinder split at the bottom. Something started to grow out at the top. I was at the end of my science, so I just observed. Then I realized what it was morphing into. A human shape. It came closer and closer to the safety glass, flying upwards. I could feel its mass slightly pulling me towards him. I took three steps back but made sure to keep it in focus.
The creature phased through the glass, disintegrating it into smoke. The creature looked at me. At least I think that was what it did, there was no face. Just a bright light, fueled by a fusion reaction inside. "Tony, is that you?" I asked.
"Î̴͓ṫ̶̮ ̵͉͊w̴̥̆a̸̼͆s̵̢̃ ̸̖̔m̶̰̾e̶̪͑" a robotic voice responded. "N̴̨̍ó̶̙ẅ̵͔́ ̴̻́Ǐ̵̘'̷̜̑m̵̩̈́ ̷̮́ě̴͈n̴̦̐e̸̱͋r̷͉̐g̶̢͝y̵͚̑"
Tony must have absorbed the energy somehow. Had he nose-dived into the orb? Would fit him.
"T̶h̶e̸ ̵o̷r̶b̴ ̸c̸o̷n̶s̸u̵m̴e̷d̶ ̵m̴e̶" the voice responded. Tony, are you reading minds?
"Y̴e̸s̵!" The longer he spoke, the clearer his voice got. "It's all energy!"
He turned to my boss "You destroyed me. Now you shall pay." Before Irwin could even turn, lightning struck him, the bright light forcing me to cover my eyes. When I looked back, his mouth was gone, he had a pig snout and his skin color was bright orange.
Then he turned to me. "It's all energy. Ready for some more research?" Something lifted me off the ground. Oh hell, sure I was.
Tony waved his hands through the air, creating a crack. I stepped through the portal. | "Johnson, report!" the overhead speakers blared, ignorant to the chaos in the test chamber and observation room.
"Dammit man, we need answers up here! Your power levels are plummeting, and we've lost visual contact."
"Johnson's dead, sir. Containment has been breached." Michaels managed to reach the microphone, propping himself up on the console. Looking around, it seemed he was the only member of the 2-person team in the room that made it. If he wouldn't have ducked down at that moment, the shard of glass that gave him a cut on his scalp would have gone through his eyes.
His hand moved to his head, attempting to put pressure on the wound, but to no avail. Blood was pouring through his fingers, tinting his vision crimson.
"Michaels? Your ass better have a good explanation as to what just happened."
"What IS happening, sir. The creature pulled from the portal was able to draw power from our containment field, as theorized. We don't have visual on the portal or the creature, and the rest of the team is dead. The portal appears to have closed, but something's wrong."
"No SHIT something is wrong! We've had this experiment planned for years. Your department assured us multiple times that the containment field would hold. Do you have any idea how much you just cost GalacTech?"
"Oh, screw you! Don't blame the science department for this mess. The science went PERFECTLY. It's not OUR fault that corporate decided to skimp out on the compound's security and containment systems. I sent you the updated charts MONTHS ago confirming this was a possibility."
Michaels slumped down next to the console, leaving the microphone slick with his blood. If the creature was able to draw power through containment, it must have been able to make it to the surface using the air shafts. Maybe even outside the facility's perimeter, if it was smart. At least the backup generators were still providing light and airflow. He tried to remember the few moments he had to observe the creature on this side of the portal before it broke free. Michaels leaned his head back, trying to block out the screaming through the speakers coming from his superior officers as well as the screaming pain from his forehead.
The creature dubbed AVN-8 was bird-like, and used its leathery wings as forearms to stand on four points. It had an enormous beak that curled at the end and appeared to glow when it was observed near the portal, which is why it was selected for testing. There were multiple theorized purposes, but it must have been what initially drew power. Michaels saw it latch on to the cage with its beak for a second before the energy levels started dipping at his station. He leaned over to get a closer look at the numbers when the containment field overloaded.
The blast knocked him to the ground, where he could only hear the creature make its escape. The electric hum that normally filled the room grew steadily like someone was sitting on the volume control until the room exploded into crackles, and then fell silent again. The portal they had opened to its world should have been cut as soon as the power fluctuations started, but Michaels still saw it still spiraling away, emitting its spiral blue sparks for just a moment after things went quiet before shrinking out of existence.
Could the creature have been trying to keep the portal open? That seemed like a stretch, but he didn't have long to think about it before he noticed that the screaming coming through the speakers changed in tone. Instead of the room being filled with screams of anger, it shifted to screams of terror. These mixed with the sounds of gunfire before dropping silent again. That simply wasn't possible. The AVN-8 had gotten to the remote facility? They weren't located on the same continent, and were only connected via satellite. The creature still found them, AND found them that quickly?
If that was the case, there was simply no time. The AVN-8 must able to shift forms to travel long distances, which was the best theorized way the experiment could even work in the first place.
It also must be able to follow electric signals in this form. They were SUPPOSED to have multiple Faraday cages set up to ensure a proper testing environment, but apparently those are hard to retrofit into underground facilities. A single layer of lead was deemed acceptable to Johnson after being 'convinced' by one of the upper management a few weeks prior.
He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, spreading blood across his forehead. The only remaining choice was to lure the creature to a different facility with proper containment. The only facility that had a suitable chamber he could reach was operated by a competing company. His contract was very clear on 'leaking' any information, but there was no other alternatives, and no time. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision of the red tint, and stood up again. It wasn't until he went to leave that the portal began to open again.
The backup generators didn't have enough power to create a portal. They were only designed to hold one open. Michaels stepped forward to examine this new portal. Did it seem.. cockeyed? The mechanisms required absolute precision, and never produced one at an angle like this before. It was also too far forward, almost in the observation room instead of the test chamber. Michaels only started to piece it together when he noticed that instead of creating blue sparks that spiraled outward, the colored sparks were spontaneously popping into existence, and then spiraling towards the edge of the portal.
Michaels stared at this new development, almost in a trance. He didn't even notice the blue glowing beak slowly emerging through the portal until it touched his console. | 2022-05-09T12:36:43 | 2022-05-09T11:25:48 | 89 | 18 |
[WP] "And that, class," concluded the professor, "is why humanity is the most peaceful, reasonable, cooperative, and overall docile species in all the universe. Any questions?" You, the only human in the classroom, raise your hand. | "You mean in recent years correct?" Aisling asked as soon as her hand had risen into the air, not even waiting for the professor to call on her. "Correct professor?" She repeated herself after a moment of silence, bright and startling green eyes that bore into the professor's own red bug like pupils. Her hand was shaking from where it was still raised in the air, a nervousness permeating her body. She didn't want to report this professor for breaking the treaty, she actually liked this one, but as the only human in this class, *~~in this school~~*, she had a duty to dispel any potential misinformation.
Another beat of silence, she could feel the eyes of the entire class on her now, before her professor spoke again. "Ah but of course and in a relative manner as well considering the....the uh recentness of humanity on a universal scale." Aisling lowered her hand as the professor spoke, the nervousness that had once been hers now transferring to his voice. "Now students please turn to Chapter 19 in your books and read quietly until the bell." Her professor barely managing to get the words out before he slumped down in his seat behind his desk. She did feel bad for him, after all it couldn't be easy to teach under the new treaty guidelines but humanity had been determined to be represented as equally and fairly as any other species, even when in cosmic terms they were so young and new. She knew how her classmates felt about her, felt about her species, felt about their struggles. They thought it was cute or in some cases pathetic. Aisling was determined to prove them wrong. She was determined to show them that humanity was not to be discredited, that no matter how small or young they saw humanity as she would show them their ferocity.
Aisling opened up her book, her tablet at the ready and began to take notes, not on the subject but on the creatures around her. | Which would if been fine if all the evidence was correct. But it wasn't. It's like rating a Galaxy meat burger without talking about the meat in the burger.
"Professor?"
"Yes?"
"Sir, you seem to have forgotten that the 1500 light year war was initiated and won by humans. That is infact the opposite of peaceful, reasonable and docile"
"Yes however once it ended an era of peace emerg-"
"Sir, to this day we face the consequences of corrupt politics and terrorism, introduced to the central galaxy by humans. Most in authority positions are incredibly uncooperative"
"Yes however many humans are also-"
"Sir, with all due respect there are different people in all races and cultures, the mass destruction caused by humans cannot be overlooked by saying that some humans are different"
"I think your point has been proven-"
"Thank you"
Having made my point I leave...... only to realise that the lecture was done under the human made "docility law" in order to help make ammends for the war..... oops. "I proved my point though" | 2021-11-27T11:58:56 | 2021-11-27T09:50:50 | 137 | 54 |
[WP] Turns our that dragons are laid back underachievers. They could rule as gods, being virtually invincible, but almost all of them prefer a nice comfy nest in the mountains and a nice fat cow every week. | "YIELD, FOUL BEAST OF HELL!" Clang. Clang.
Sir Galahad's blade, the Holy Sword of Antioch, rang on the serpent's adamant scales with a peal like thunder.
The ancient wyrm yawned, and squinted down at the ant like dot of a man to see what the fuss was about. "Ah," it sighed, and its breath leveled a hillside. "Here we go again."
"GO BACK TO THE PIT FROM WHENCE THOU CAMEST!" Clang. Clangclangclang.
"Look, could we do this some other time?" The dragon called down to the human. "Only, it's already past noon, and I just ate..."
"THOU HAST SLAIN THE FAIREST MAIDEN IN THE KINGDOM, SPAWN OF SATAN!" Clang CLANG clang. Pause. Clang.
If the dragon had had eyelids, it would have blinked, or had it had eyebrows, frowned, but as it was all it could do was growl somewhat tectonically. Last thing it had eaten was a cow, though he couldn't vouch for its marital status, it was fairly sure it had seen more attractive members of the species. "You sure?" No accounting for taste, it supposed.
"THOU SHALT RUE THIS DAY!" Sir Galahad cried. "I SHALL HAVE THY HOARD AS A WEREGILD!" Clang. SNAP. The Holy Blade of Antioch broke at the hilt.
"Ah," said the dragon. "You've already progressed as far as gold-based currency again?"
"THOU CANST DEFEAT--What do you mean 'again'?"
"Nothing, nothing," the immortal serpent reassured. "Look, tell you what, here's a nice little cup some nice chap from Aramethea left with me. You take that back, you can tell everyone you slew the dragon and took it from my hoard. And if anyone asks I'll swear up and down its true. Deal? Right, run along now, there's a good paladin."
The dragon watched the knight ride away, and shook its head. They'd be on to nuclear annihilation by dinnertime, no doubt. Render the planet uninhabitable for 50 generations. Again.
Ah well, it was time for a nap anyway. | "Dragon I do not understand" asked the boy.
With a low grumble the dragon shifted, a small plume of smoke rising from it's nose.
"What is it you do not understand, I have told you my story, the good, the evil, the love, the loss and the truth. You have come to my cave every day for a fortnight to listen, the first human in a millennium to do so, and the question you ask is that you don't understand? Why is that?" The dragon replied in a bemused tone.
"Well I guess I just don't understand why with all the power you hold. To create and destroy, to give powers to heroes and villains. To hold a spark of divine creation in your heart of hearts. Why sit in this cold damp cave and do nothing."
"Little Mortal I have done everything you could think of and more. I have seen life rise and fall, creatures come and go. I have raised empires, destroyed vast civilizations, been the hero and the villain, seen thousands of wars, destroyed entire specie's. Raised heroes and crafted evils. I have done everything I have ever wanted to and done it the way I intended it to be. And for now I am content with living quietly and in peace."
The boy sat in silence for a while, his face dimly lit by glowing embers.
Finally he spoke up "Dragon, can you tell me another story?"
With a sigh of content, the dragon got comfortable and replied "And what story would you like to hear little one." | 2019-05-25T22:01:38 | 2019-05-25T21:53:01 | 270 | 32 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | Hagh backed up against the stone, his pulse rifle nearly as empty as his body of blood. Even now, with the air filled with energy pulses and the sounds of photoelectric charges going off, he felt his world growing darker.
"Hey!" Hagh heard, snapping him back to the harsh reality of the invasion of his homeworld. "Hey you! Lovarian, right?"
Hagh blinked. "Yes. I am Lovarian. Who are you?"
"Tech Sergeant Adams with the Earth Aerospace Force. You can call me AJ though. You look pretty fucked up."
"I do not know this word. Your tone translates though." Hagh said, quietly preparing his introduction to Algar the Judge.
"Well you're in good hands. I'm a Pararescue Jumper. I'm a medic. What's your name pal?" AJ said, loading a large round into the fat barrel beneath his own pulse rifle.
"Hagh. I did not know humans were coming to help. Don't waste your time with me, my judgement comes soon."
"Fuck that, Hog. You can't die until I hand over patient responsibility." AJ said, setting his weapon down long enough to tear a package open with those predatory human teeth. "This is gonna burn Hog, not gonna lie."
And burn, that chemical did. Hagh screamed to the stars, begging to be judged, but his judgement didn't come. Instead, the burn subsided. "Algar's mercy! What was that?" He asked, watching the human shoulder his weapon and giving his (their?) enemies a taste of return fire.
"QuickClot. Can you run Hog?" AJ asked, taking cover to reload.
"Slowly, yes." Hagh said, surprised at being handed the human's sidearm.
"Good, we're headed south. We've got a forward base established where we could break the Litheen invasion forces." AJ said, finally firing that fat little weapon attached to his rifle. The photoelectric pulse lit the darkness, giving Hagh a better chance to see his rescuer.
Lanky and lean, as humans tended to be, he wore the uniform of his people. He was also bleeding. "You are injured." Hagh observed.
"Fuck Hog, we're all injured. We had to argue with brass to let us drop in to render aid. Now let's move!" AJ said, setting his weapon to auto fire and filling the air behind them with a cloud of discouraging pulses.
----------
"And that is why you are named for a human, Anthony, daughter of Hagh." The young woman's father said, with great reverence on his aged face, the beginnings of tears forming in the eyes on the left side of his face.
"What became of my name father?" The young female asked.
"I carried him into the base. Not the other way around. He died to allow me to survive. When you bear a child, remember the human who ensured the line of Hagh would remain unbroken.
"I have asked our neighbors. None of them know this hero, AJ Adams. Why is that the case?" Anthony asked her father, sparing a glance out the window to the Earth place called Miami.
"This is considered small heroism among the humans, my daughter. Take some time to learn what the warriors of their people have done."
---------
Edit: Typos (did this on my phone) and small editing mistake. | Captain of NA Drial to Federation HQ
I am afraid, scared and motivated, I know its odd way to put it but we may win the war against the Empire with the humans.
I mean, since humans first made contact they remained neutral, in their tiny solar system.
They had so much battle experience that we thought that humans maybe were empire species, but turns out they were fighting each other all along.
To classify the humans are reckless, suburb and brave. They did not like it when the Empire order them to surrender and give them an ultimatum of 48 hours to surrender, humans instead of surrender, every planet in their solar system started to go in lockdowb, Earth the center of human power and the home world issued order 450, an order that other species said that was to crazy go against the empire like that. The order 450 was simple, boost power to Earth's mighty iron shields, by using the planets raw core, they were sucking the planets thermal energy to power a shield, that amount of energy disturbed all sensor in the solar system, they hold the 48 hours like that until the Empire invaded, turn out the humans were not in the mood to go on the defense, they hidden an entire space ship fleet beside the solar system star, Earth's shields were not protecting Earth's but were protecting an enormous fleet from the star heat. Has soon the empire was in Earth's defense weapons a barrage of shots started to hit the empire ships, and then they warped all of the fleet be hide the empire ships.
They destroy, captured all empire ships, nothing was left of the empire. Earth's alone fleet and power won an entire invasion force more than a million empire ships more than 30 million soldiers either dead or captured, but the amazing part was that human fleet damage was 15 ships, a battalion that sacrifice them self to save the crown of the Earth's power the mighty, USS Helena, after that battalion fall the USS Helena shot a full range and power, a barrage of shots that alone killed more than 150 ships.
Humans are crazy, have a lot of power and they are not afraid to fight until the last man.
Has of right now the Redjop have joined the human fleet, but not with man but with ships, turns out that humans did not have enough ships to carry the military, 459 million, a single species has enough personal has the Empire combine. In this report I ask mercy to creator because, humans will most likely to use the Empire home solar system star has a bomb, I mean I hope they get some sense what they are doing. | 2017-03-06T04:21:37 | 2017-03-06T00:01:22 | 41 | 25 |
[WP] You can see everyone's "Kill Number," the number of beings they've killed. Even for the most peaceful people this is in the tens of thousands, due to eating animals and stepping on bugs inadvertently. One day you see a person with the number Zero above their head. | 'Sixty thousand, average. Oh thats a high one, two hundred and four thousand and some change.' I sat there, people watching, comparing the numbers above their heads. When i was younger i'd make up stories for people, the higher the number the worse their story. I just always imagined if you had a fairly high number that you must live a fairly unsettling life. Thats just how it was in my mind. 'Oh wow, Twenty two thousand, thats real low. Lower than me even!' i sat at a cool twenty five thousand. I've been at twenty five thousand for two years. In those two years i've gone up four hundred. Not too shabby compared to some of my friends which average that in a single month!
​
As if a record scratched in my mind, my whole world paused "Zero.....?" the number was red. Most numbers were a hazy gray, similar to a fizzled out fire sputtering its last gasps of life in its sickly thin smoke, but this Zero? This was blood red, it's as if the number itself oozed some type of malevolence. The woman whom this magically low number belonged to was walking over to a park bench, Starbucks cup in hand. I HAD to discuss this, did she know she had a low number? Did she have the same gift as i had? How a zero though? I have seen babies that have numbers, dogs, cats. Everything had a number, I even saw a young guinea pig with a 6 above it.
​
I sat Next to her "Hello, Can i offer you a refill on that coffee? Maybe some light conversation?" She paused, looked at me, turned back to face her coffee "Twenty five thousand? You must put in a lot of effort to keep it that low." I reeled back, she laughed. "It's alright, you're not the first to notice it, i doubt you're the last either." She took a long sip of her drink. "Ill gladly take you up on that refill."
​
We chatted, she seemed like the nicest and most mysterious person i've met, every sentence she stated seemed planned, scripted, like the words i was about to say weren't even a mystery to her. She knew everything. She asked me "Would you like to come back to my place? Maybe grab some lunch?" i delightfully agreed. We walked a few blocks, under a bridge, through a small park and finally up the stairs of her apartment. The entire building looked like an old brownstone from the city i grew up in. English ivy covered the north side, blocking the windows and brick. I dont even think sunshine could penetrate that thick layer of Ivy.
​
We went inside "5A" she said, locking the two deadbolts behind us. I started walking toward the elevator "Out of order, lazy landlord figured we all could use the exercise." so up the stairs i started. This entire building was old, unkept, extremely moldy smelling. I had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up on end, everything in my body said "Leave, now!" but curiosity got the best of me, i had to find out more about the way this woman lived, who she was and most importantly how she remained at a 0. She opens the door to her apartment "Here we are 5A."
​
As suddenly as the door opened two pairs of hands grabbed me, pulling me inside her apartment. My eyes struggling to cope with the dimly lit space that seemed to be covered in some sort of plastic wrap. The hands threw me down on one of the plastic tarps, held me down, face against the floor. Suddenly i hear "You realize the numbers max out, right? Haven't you seen anyone past nine hundred and ninety nine thousand? no? Well now you have." My instincts kicking in hard screaming in my head "MOVE" one of the pair of hands let go, i was able to stand up, i saw behind the plastic sheeting a small shimmer of light. I ran toward what i hoped was a window, put my arms in front of my face and jumped. | I just couldn't believe it, I always prided myself on having a low number after going vegetarian and stuff like that but this was insane. Everyone kills at least a couple of times, the smallest insects count and you just can't help it. He was just going about his normal day, the people beside him with numbers as high as I've ever seen, and he just stands there. An exceptional specimen and completely unaware that he is. The moment I saw the ornate zero above his head, the din of the city went quite. I was left breathless from surprise and tarnished air left me, rising in the cold winter air and joining its brethren in the sky. What little natural light there was clung to him, the zero over his head acting like a beacon in its modesty when compared to the numbers around it. I was beside him before I even knew it and grabbed his shoulder before I could stop myself. "How do you have a zero!?" I asked before I realised how much of a weirdo I looked like.
I was just going about my life as always, wading through the crowd, following the steps, always following the steps. They had been with me my entire life, guiding me. I had free will, I could do what I want, but it always has to be a specific way. I always knew the steps would lead me to a good place. After a while I saw small patterns, when the steps were especially strong. Usually they were golden outlines emblazoned in the dirt. Their seductive shine drawing my every step, feeling a certain rightness as I fill it. But sometimes they are tiny pinpricks of gold I have to follow exactly and after a while I realised they were to avoid stepping on bugs, crazy it sounds, they never stepped into the light, no matter how long I waited. And glad to avoid killing them, I always followed. Seldom in my life have they actively forced a decision, only three major times in fact. Whenever I tried to eat meat, getting on the bus to this city to take the job, and finally, today, during lunch, it made me walk halfway across the city. I was clueless but I followed the steps one after another, that was until they stopped, and then a woman grabbed me, her nails greeting skin as if there weren't layers of clothes above.
He looked at me, confused, his eyebrows furrowed, creases appearing on a face clearly unused to them. He clearly thought I was insane, maybe I should elaborate? Or maybe I should I lie and runaway, it's not like I'll ever see him again. As I thought all this, he then started to smile at me. "So you're where they were leading me." I then thought it was my turn to look confused. "Why don't we go for a drink? You can tell me whatever crazy thing made you want to talk to me of all people, and I'll tell you the crazy reason why I want to talk to you. I have a slight suspicion we'll find them slightly evenly matched." There was something about him that made me say yes, as if he stood in a golden spotlight. I really wanted to hear his reason, although I sincerely doubted it would be quite like mine. At least it would be funny to see that handsome face get all bent out of shape when I tell him everything.
~The End~
Any and all feedback appreciated :) | 2021-05-21T07:59:20 | 2021-05-21T06:26:56 | 194 | 105 |
[WP] Write about a world where competitive Super Smash Bros. is the premier, must-watch sport worldwide. | The year. Is 20XX. We begin in *media res*, as all good stories do.
Sakurai trails off, clearly disturbed. A single bead of sweat drips down from his brow, almost reaching his brow before he irritably twitches, sending the drop off.
"It was a vengeful joke at first. All I heard from smash communities was "you're ruining our game! We want competition, not gimmicks!' So I listened. At first it was a joke. I even named it Super Smash 20XX a few year ahead to parody those horrid sports games, the Maddens and 2Ks did! You would put in the disk, boot up the Gamecube, and the game would load. It was just like Melee, but with special coding to remove port priority, and one key difference: it was always final destination, always four stocks, always two Foxes. No items. No life!"
Another shaken pause. I can feel his remorse, and the air is tense with his painful memories.
"Sir, I can leave. You don't need to keep talking." I feel sorry that I had brought this once-great man so much pain.
"Perhaps this is for the best," Sakurai says, "The people weren't looking for fun. They were looking for a way to fight."
And fight we did. After 20XW, it was almost inconcievable there was any other way of life. I was born into this system, so I don't know any other way people live. But there are rumors floating around this run down city, rumors of another time. So I had hunted down the ghosts. Sakurai was my first interview. But his tale was only the tip of the iceberg.
I shake myself out of my reverie. "Thank you, sir."
"No, it was my... well, not a pleasure. But certainly my duty. Good luck young man. I trust you can find your way out."
A siren blares. I quickly leave Sakurai's concealed shelter before *they* come. I sprint home, clutching the tape recording hidden away in my chest pocket.
Some months later, I had finally managed to covertly contact another past legend--as long as he could ditch his guards, we could talk. Today's the day, and now it's Prog's turn.
We don't waste time with pleasantries. This meeting took too long to set up, and our time was too limited to be wasted. I immediately fire my first question. "What was the immediate response to 20XX?"
Prog takes a second, slowly at first, but gaining speed and urgency.
"Some were ecstatic. Mango picked it up almost immediately. By that point, he had dominated the Melee seen for close to a decade, so his huge following joined him. He was like a cult leader--everyone followed him and Smash 20XX with a fervor previously unknown to humanity.
The next great man to go was M2K. Mango had no trouble convincing him of the efficiency of the new game. M2K was soon Mango's right hand man, smashing, if you'll pardon the pun, everyone in his path. Nobody could beat M2K on his home turf. Maybe not even Mango. We'll never know."
"why not?"
"As far as I know, they haven't fought it out since 20XX came out. Mango reigns through just the rumor of his power at this point. Nobody, not even M2K, was going to challenge Mango after what he did."
"What?"
Prog is shaking. "I can't say. It's too awful."
I press him harder. "It's in the past now. Nobody can hurt you here."
"He... he would break them. The thumbs of the losers. It would always heal a little weaker, a little slower than before. Nobody wanted to risk that."
I'm shocked. This was a crime! The thumb is sacred in 20XX society--it's the only way people can prove themselves and move up the tiers. "Go on," I manage to numbly say.
Prog takes a second to think. "Where was I? Oh yes, after M2K. It was a dark time, we just didn't know it yet. Mango began to swallow up all the big names with M2K's help, eliminating or assimilating the best.
'Hungrybox was the first to go. Nobody knows how that match went for sure. It was said that M2K indulgently relented to Hungrybox's request of the archaic format--best of 5, counterpicking, and so on--but completely destroyed him. Hungrybox just couldn't keep up with an M2K 100% devoted to Mango's vision. I don't think he even got close to damaging M2K. It's said that the lasers were just too fast, and the spacing... it was a work of god. A terrible, vengeful god."
"Who was next?"
"The next was Dr. PP. It's said that he went unwillingly. But when he came back, he was changed, and not for the better. If M2K was Mango's right hand, Dr. PP was the left. He would speak for hours at a time, telling us about the virtues of 20XX. Many people were brought under Mango's dark fold then. Enough that we ended up where we are now. Those who didn't... they were crushed. Either by Dr. PP or M2K, it didn't matter. They didn't even pretend anymore after a certain point--you could either meet certain doom by playing them in 20XX, or you would be held down and forcibly crippled."
Prog looks down at his thumb, smiling bitterly. "It still hurts, you know. When it rains, or it's very cold. I feel it, deep in my bones. But that didn't compare to what came next: The Purge."
"Copies of Smash 4, Brawl, Smash 64 were rounded up, and then burned. I remember how it smelled. It wasn't the clean smell of ashes--it was the acrid, dark smell of plastic and silicon, straight out of hell. It was nostalgia and childhood, memories and memorabilia, all gone in the blink of an eye. Eventually, even Melee was hunted down. 'It's a gateway,' they claimed, 'it leads to a life of impurity.' So Melee was gone too. Soon, all the smashers were under Mango's thumb."
"After that, it was easy. A few sleepers placed here and there. A senator's son, lured into playing 20XX and then converted to Mangoism. And then it all came crashing down. When the dust settled, Mango and his crew had taken it all over."
My watch chirps. "We're almost out of time."
"This was good for me," says Prog, "I remember how things were now... just remember kid, it's dangerous out there. It's cute that you think things will change with these interviews, but you can't keep going. Take my advice: stop digging now. There's skeletons that you don't want back among the living down there."
I stand, alarmed. "What skeletons?"
"Leave it alone. Leave *them* alone. The Purge was tough... so tough that some couldn't take it. Don't do it. Even if you could find them... this system isn't so bad now. People with talent rise, and those without fall. Isn't that everyone's ideal?"
"Spoken like a coward. You know things are bad now. But you run!" I shout, "But. You. Run. You bury yourself under the delusion that things are better now. They aren't. The people know they aren't. And we won't take it anymore."
My alarm rings again. Time to go. I spit disgustedly and turn to leave.
"Fine. Look for Isai. But not too loud." I look back. He's silently crying. I don't know if they are tears or rage, or sorrow, but they flow freely. I leave.
XxXxX
"You didn't have to, you know." A man comes out of the darkness, next to Prog.
"I know. Do me a last favor: how much did you hear?" Prog is forced to his knees, harshly. He yelps a little.
"Enough. Who's the kid?"
Prog spits.
"Fine," the man says, "we can do it that way. Take him out." Two more men step out of the shadows.
XxXxX
While I'm leaving, I hear a yelp, and then a scream. I run. I need to find Isai, because my time is running out. | This is probably the best thing I've ever come across on this sub, as I'm a part of the competitive smash scene, so thank you for that. Anyway, here goes.
The stadium was packed. I was down on center stage, surrounded by thousands of people, anxiously clutching my controller. It was absolutely surreal what was happening to me, I'd fought through the absolute best in the world; Hax and his Captain Falcon, Vudujin's monstrous Luigi, Mango's devastating spacies, the list goes on and on. Before this I was a nobody, but now people all over the world were tuning in to Video Game Bootcamp and Clash Tournaments to watch me in the Melee Grand Finals.
I was up against the robot himself, Mew2King; the fiercest player known to man. No chance in hell was I going to take a set off this guy, I mean he's frame perfect with at least five characters for chrissake. The time was coming, only 10 minutes until the match begins. Taking my seat, I shake M2K's hand and smile nervously, his stare is piercing. The crowd begins to settle down, and the only sound I hear is the menu music.
"Alright, what stages are we gonna strike?" Mew2King spouts, startling me.
"Uhhh . . ." I stammered, "if you're going to play Sheik, I don't want Final Destination or Yoshi's Story."
"That's fine with me. How does Battlefield sound?"
I just nodded my head in agreement. I was trying my damnedest to mentally prepare myself for this matchup. My only good character that could take on a Sheik was Falco, and M2K knows that fight backwards and forwards. Hesitantly, I set my cursor over the bird and hit start. The battle begins.
"Alright, if you're just tuning in we've got game one of Grand Finals between Mew2King and the up and comer, Pooch" states Prog, one of the most famous smash commentators in the world. "We've seen a lot of phenomenal matches come out of this new guy, but will he be able to beat the king of Mews?"
"I'm not too sure he can do it," responds D1, joining in on the commentary, "Jason (M2K) has just been on the ball too much this season. Not to mention that Pooch went with Falco, which M2K is known to body in almost every match he plays."
My hands were an absolute flurry, mashing inputs so fast that the distinct sounds of buttons became a single drone of plastic being crushed. Double shine into a down air, excellent; just the combo I needed to take the stock. I paused for a second, mentally, and realized that I've just taken a stock off of the King.
Pausing was a mistake. He returned the favor near instantly with a forward air that sent my flying out of the stage. Just like that the stocks were even once again.
"My God, Jason is playing way more aggressively this match than I've ever seen before. Pooch seems to be maintaining good spacing and has control of the stage though, so we'll see how his play style manages to keep up."
"I'm really surprised at how well he's fending off M2K's approaches, Prog. He's really stumping the computer at his own game."
My hands were sweating buckets, and I was getting antsy. An entire stock lead is a huge thing to have against such a masterful player, and I wasn't going to let that lead slip. A grab put me in a good position to combo into a hard forward smash, closing out the King's third stock. Two stock lead, and one left to take from the robot.
All of a sudden, I started to hear chanting from the crowd. "MEWTWO KING! MEWTWO KING! MEWTWO KING!" My heart was racing; this match was the deciding factor for whether or not I'd have finally reached the pinnacle. I wasn't about to let the crowd take that from me. Nothing was getting in my head.
Sheik descended back onto the stage, granted with brief invincibility. Jason used every damn frame of that gift to his advantage. I couldn't avoid his grab, which turned into an incredible chain grab combo ending in my stock being taken. My jaw dropped. Sure, I still had a whole stock on him, but M2K was still the best on the planet, and he sure as hell didn't want to give up that title to the likes of me. He turned up his game to a whole new level. His aggression was far less than what it was at the beginning of the match, and instead he began to tease me at the ledge. Foolishly, I waltzed over to try and snipe his ledge grab and get a quick gimp to close out the match. Right into his trap. If you blinked, you'd have missed how fast he popped off the ledge, smacked me in the face, and then turned around and threw me off the stage. I was utterly stunned; the stocks had evened out in mere seconds.
I looked over at Jason and a smile curled onto his face. As far as he was concerned, the crown was going to stay his. I wasn't about to let that happen, not after all I'd been through, not after hearing the crowd attack me. I had to prove them wrong, all of them. I had one last chance to become the greatest, and I felt ready.
Falco touched back down to Battlefield, poised and ready to win. To the right of the stage was Sheik, taunting me from the ledge, baiting me in. I'd learned my lesson, though, and wasn't about to repeat the blunder that had put me in this dire situation again. I watched intently, focusing on her timings, learning the patterns. A short hop laser singed her, knocking her from the ledge. M2K knew I meant business. Sheik got back to the stage, trying to approach from the top platform. I read the neutral air, and countered with a shine. The game was mine. A jump out of shine into down air connects, spiraling Sheik down into the stage. Ferociously, I fall down to give chase and punish the poor princess. This was it, one forward smash would secure my victory and crown me the World Champion Super Smash Brothers Melee player. Falco cocked back and launched his foot forward. All of a sudden, Sheik wavedashed backwards and punished the bird with a nasty up smash. I watched in complete shock as Falco Lombardi disappeared off the top of the stage, a mere glint of a star representing his death. GAME!
"I just hate to see such a crushing defeat for a player with such potential, D. If only Pooch were a bit more experienced and a bit less greedy, he probably could have taken the set."
"Man, look at him down there. He's in shock." D1 said, "I don't think anyone can really believe such an astonishing comeback could have happened."
I gazed at the screen for a bit, downright upset and still reeling from such a soul crushing defeat. A hand grabbed my shoulder and I turned, it was Jason.
"Hey man, I just want to say that was the most intense set I've ever played, and you're a hell of a player."
His sincerity was too much for me, I cracked just a bit. "Thank you. You have no idea how much this set meant to me, and even though I lost, I still feel like I learned a lot from it, and I'll be gunning for you next year."
We both shook hands and laughed. The crowd swarmed the stage, hoisting their reigning king into the air, chanting his name. I joined in on the chant, knowing that I truly wasn't ready to be the champion. I still needed training. | 2013-12-22T01:00:16 | 2013-12-21T22:32:24 | 36 | 11 |
[WP] When you gain a superpower it is a reflection of your inner self, good people tend to get typical 'good' powers such as flight while bad people get 'bad' powers such as mind control. Oddly enough the top superhero and supervillain each have powers that seemingly do not suit them at all | Everyone thought it was odd. Years of research and studies had all come to the same conclusion. Personality determines the power. "Good" people develop powers for helping people ( healing powers are rather common), while the "Bad" people always got 'mind control' or 'insta-death'. More neutral personalities seemed to develop more regular abilities like 'super strength' and 'flight' of some kind.
There are exceptions to every rule, though. As is the case with this generation's greatest hero: Hardliner. The man looks like a characature of what people see heroes as. Chiseled features, athletic, and a perfect smile to put the civilians at ease when he saves them. He even wore that silly cape to have it flap in the wind. When he appeared on the scene of his first villain beat-down, we all thought he was going to show off some amazing heroic power, like shooting dazzling white light from his palms or show off some indescribable durability and beat down the villain with unwavering resolve.
That's not what he did. The other heroes, the civilians, even the superpowered thugs he was fighting never thought he'd walk up and start draining powers. Every other recorded instance of power draining abilities before Hardliner has been a greedy, self-obsessed, and envious lunatic. But like I said, there are exceptions to every rule.
There have been speculations and theories as to why Hardliner is a bad guy. Maybe he is and is only biding his time. Perhaps he understands that since his draining abilities are only temporary, and people with those powers are driven to experience all powers they can get their hands on, he must be simply enjoying a publicly accepted version of a power buffet. But he doesn't seem to seek out more power. His fellow heroes all comment that he wears gloves when off duty to avoid draining some one by mistake. No one understands it, no matter how much we try.
No one wants to understand Tyrant, though. The other exception the the rules. The world's most feared villain. He heals people. Powerful enough to bring the recently deceased back to the world of the the living.
Only to kill them again. And again. And again. And again. Over and over. | I used to believe that I had a weird power. If you know about Moira from Overwatch I promise I didn’t just steal the idea from her. The game wasn’t even in concept yet at the time I believed I had this ability. Anyway, the ability I thought I had was that I could steal with my left hand and give with my right. By this I mean steal literally anything, and give literally anything. If I wanted to I could steal years of something’s life. If I wanted to I could give years of my life to something else as well. I think it was mostly the hallucinations I had most of my life that led me to believe I had this ability, but something I realized in all of my delusions was that giving isn’t necessarily good and taking isn’t really bad. If I gave you disease that would be just as bad as taking life, and if I stole your disease that would be just as good as giving you life. I don’t know what kind of thing this ability would mean in terms of my personality since anyone can give or take anything they want, but it kind of made me afraid to give or take things. I think I’ve gotten over it since, but around the time of the realization I had where giving can be just as bad as taking and taking can be just as good as giving it made me more hesitant to give people things or take things without permission. | 2020-06-15T10:54:15 | 2020-06-15T09:43:33 | 86 | 12 |
[WP] For the last 5 years you've been finding random post-it notes that tell you what to do in difficult situations, and each time it has led to successful outcomes. Today, while arriving at your bosses closed office door for a meeting, you see a note with familiar handwriting. It says "RUN!" | When I got to my seat, I saw a little pink post it on it. It read "RUN!"
I'd received these notes before. The first one I received was weird, and I thought a friend of mine was screwing with me. It read:
"Tell Julia in cubicle 15 you love her highlights."
Deciding to humor the note, I walked over to Julia, noticing the almost indistinguishable highlights in her hair. I complimented her on them and we got to talking. It turned out we were into a lot of the same things. She and I had jobs to do, however, and went back to work, but not before agreeing to talk later.
The next day, the note read:
"Ask her how her father is doing"
Well, that's kind of strange. But OK, so far my friend isn't misleading me yet, so I'll try it out. I went over and asked. She said he was under a lot of stress all of the time. Apparently, her father is the owner and president of the company. She's working from the bottom up, because her old man thought it would teach her work ethic and responsibility. Our company was in constant turmoil, from bad business deals to terrible companies we were working with. It made sense he was stressed. She then asked about my father, to which I gave her a bland answer, and then she asked about me. Clearly our talks were going somewhere.
It was two weeks before the next note. I had been talking to Julia pretty consistently, and we were really hitting it off. I just didn't know how to take it to the next level.
The note read:
"Call Melnati's and reserve a table for Saturday at nine. Then ask Julia to go to dinner"
I had just finished my thought when I saw it on my monitor. Melnati's was ridiculously expensive, and I knew I would never get a table there, but I called anyway, seeing as it couldn't hurt, maybe wasting a minute or two of my time. Turns out, that Melnati's was in desperate need of a full house that night, because apparently some famous food critic was in town and they wanted to look good for him. The 9 o clock for that night had just cancelled, and they needed someone for the table. They offered me 80% off if I brought a friend. I was absolutely dumbstruck, but said yes, because as I said, nothing bad had happened to me yet.
This was when I began to suspect that it wasn't just a friend of mine writing these notes. I went and asked Julia, and it turned out to be her favorite restaurant. We went out and had a great time that Saturday night, and kept going out because we enjoyed each other's company so much.
Fast forward about 7 months. Julia and I were an item. She loved everything I did. We played Smash Bros and Mario Kart, spent a lot of time at my place wearing just sweat pants, and just generally ribbing each other like best friends. I couldn't imagine a happier life.
I lifted the lid to my toilet to take a piss, then pissed myself. There was a note on the lid.
It read:
"Pop the question. You don't need a ring."
The only notes I had been receiving after the initial ones about Julia up until now were related to work, and had helped me get promoted in the last couple of months. Little things like submitting projects early or taking the initiative on something I should have had no way of knowing. I was shocked that one was in my home, but they had never misled me. So I asked. She practically jumped into my arms with joy.
The wedding was fantastic. I had received another note telling me to personally invite her father, which was amazing, because he was greatly impressed with me in general, as well as with my work ethic. He told me the company might be mine someday.
So fast forward to today. The little note that said "RUN!"
I looked over at my soon-to-be ex-boss. I was getting promoted later that week. He had been a cog in the machine for almost thirty years, and hadn't really moved from his position for a very long time.
The note didn't have to say anything else. I bolted for the door. As if on cue, my boss pulled a gun. I put two and two together and realized he was probably angry about me getting promoted, but I never thought he would lose it like this.
He didn't have time to fire before getting tackled by a couple of our co-workers. Apparently, me running towards the door with a worried look in my eye put them all on alert, so that when our boss pulled the gun, they were ready to react and were right next to him. He didn't try anything else as I was his only target.
As I got back to my feet, I went back to look at the note that had saved my life. It was strange to see, but the text on it had changed.
It read:
"You have now finished the tutorial."
​
Any feedback is appreciated! Constructive criticism gets a smiley sticker! | I yank the note off the door, jamming it into my pocket before my boss walks up, slaps a hand on my shoulder, and leads me into his office. He’s wearing a wide smile, acting friendly as can be—which worries me. Whenever Mr. Melvin’s having a good day, it means he’s *dangerous.*
Mr. Melvin’s typically pretty grumpy, but still calm. Off-handed comment here, slap-in-the-face-insult there—nothing more. But on days like this, days where he walks in whistling and dancing, he can be an absolute *monster* if his mood’s soured. One time he poured coffee on someone’s desk because they put sugar in it. Another time he smashed his chair into a million pieces because it kept squeaking.
The note on the door said "RUN", and while they’ve not been wrong yet, I think I know what’s gonna happen—he’s gonna ask for my lunch. For my glorious turkey club, the same one I buy every morning. He just noticed it yesterday and eyed it up, licking his lips as he creepily rambled about how tasty it looked. Now he’s chipper as ever, and randomly calls me into his office?
I see through his tricks.
He thinks I’ll give him my lunch because I don’t wanna piss him off. Thinks I’ll bow before him and let him bully me.
*No.*
Today I’ll do something different, today I’ll prove the note wrong. This situation won’t end poorly, and he won’t freak out because I’m going to hit him with the ultimate power move by calling him out. This is *my* turkey club. I will defend my turkey club.
So when he tells me to sit, I continue standing, and when he opens his mouth again, I dash across the room, pressing my forehead against his and glaring at him.
“What the actual hell are you—”
“*YOU WILL NOT STEAL MY TURKEY CLUB!*” I scream, standing on my tippy-toes, puffing my chest out. “*IT’S MINE, GODDAMMIT!*”
I bet everyone’s hurrying out their seats, trying to listen to this. I’m one-upping the boss, and it’s obvious by the look on his face that he’s gonna try making excuses, so I give him a hard shove.
“*A PERSON’S LUNCH IS SACRED, AND I WILL NOT RUN FROM THE ENEMY OF MINE. STAY AWAY FROM ME, MR. MELVIN!*”
Taking a deep breath, I nod my head, trying not to smile despite the fact that this might be the greatest moment of my life. He's *pissed* and I bet when I walk outside, everyone’s gonna cheer my name, gonna celebrate my victory. I finally stood up to—
Wait.
He’s like, furious.
Clenched fists, gritted teeth.
Uh-oh.
“*I was just going to ask you if you wanted to take a few shifts. If you'd said no, I just would've gotten one of the other idiots here to do it!*” he seethes before opening his desk and pulling out a turkey club. “*I’VE ALREADY GOT MY OWN GODDAMN TURKEY CLUB!*”
“Oh.”
When he kicks his chair over and flips his desk, I mutter *sorry* and *I hope you have a good day* and *did you get mayo on the club* before hurrying out of the room, just dodging a clock he throws at me. The only thing cheering me on as I stroll down the hall is the quiet clicking of computer keys and him screaming “*YOUUUUUUUU’RE FIIIIIIIIIIRED!*”
Well, at least I learned a lesson, I guess—always listen to the notes. Always.
***
While I don't think this is exactly the response you were expecting, I still hope it's good! This idea popped into my head and made me laugh a bunch. Thanks for the prompt! If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter?lang=en) | 2018-11-24T22:47:38 | 2018-11-24T15:28:31 | 64 | 43 |
[WP] You are in a bar when a six year old pigtailed little girl takes the stool next to you. In the deepest lumberjack voice she says, "Hey, Frank, make it a double. It happened again." You can't resist and ask her, "What happened again?" | "What happened?" The little girl looked at the now poured double sitting in front of her. "I'll tell you what happened, no harm."
The double disappeared before she cleared her throat, ready to retell her story.
"So I was walking around. Minding my own god damn business. And I come up to this house. Door wide open. So I walk in. Just have a look. See if anyone is home and tell them their door is open. Get inside, and there's no one there. But there is three bowls sitting there. So I go to take a seat. Three seats at this table. I go to sit down on a big chair, real regal like. But it's too big for me to reach the table. So I try the next chair. Not bad, but a bit small for my slender frame. So I go to the last chair, and it's great! Helps my sciatica something amazing! So I sit down."
"Back to the bowls. The first one, so god damn hot, burns the roof of my mouth. The second? Cold as ice. Soothes the burn real nice. The third though? Perfect temperature. Not too hot, not too cold. As I finish the food, and you won't believe this, the god damn chair breaks on me! I got splinters everywhere! Hurts like a son of a bitch! Give me another double!"
Another drink gets poured in front of the little girl. The other barflies have gathered around to hear the story.
"So I got splinters up my back, and I'm tired as hell. So I go look for a bed. Rest up, you know? So I head upstairs. Now I don't know what sort of gimmick these people have, but the beds were like the chair and the food. Big bed? Hard as a rock! Don't know how anyone could sleep on it. The next bed?"
"Lemme guess, it was too soft?" A voice cries out from the small crowd, captivated by the little girl's story.
"Oh my god, we've got a freakin' mind reader over here!" The little girl stares at the heckler. "Shut the hell up, this ain't your story! Now anyway, the next bed, it was in fact too soft. As The Professor over there stated. So I go to the last bed. Nice size, pillow underlay, nice springs, perfect! So I curl up, and get a quick snooze in. Another double, thanks."
The alcohol disappears quicker than it took to pour this time.
"So I'm comfortable, I'm getting some rest, and then I hear screaming coming from down stairs. 'My chair!' I hear. ''My food!' I hear from a different voice. And then footsteps. They open the door, and I shit you not, three giant, bearded, leather wearing guys just look at me. The biggest, who was also wearing a choker saying Papa on it, pulls out a pistol, and starts firing wildly! I dive out of the window, and ran here. After the day I've had? No wonder I need this drink!"
The barkeep looks at the little girl. "Speaking of, Locks, you got that tab money you owe?" | Nate had a bad day and really needed a drink. He headed to The Castle, where an old fortress by the ocean was revamped into the city's most beautiful vintage-looking bar.
He ordered some food as well. It is said that the bar has the widest variety in town, from the most common of steaks to the meat of any monster lurking in the sea.
From the corner of his eyes, Nate noticed a little girl walking in. Very young, like 5-6 years old, pig tailed, mudded cheeks. She was wearing a dirty red jacket and worn-out jeans, and walked in confidently even though non of the bar dwellers seems to be her parents. She spoke to the bartender Frank arrogantly:
"Hey Frank. Make it a double. It happened again".
The whole bar seems to pause for a while. The girl possessed a voice of a middle-age man, rugged and experienced. 'She' sounded like she had seen some serious stuff in her life.
Nate could not help but asked, confused like everyone else in the bar:
"What happened again"?
After a moment of silence, suddenly, Frank went speechless, staring and pointing at the little girl, as if she is the scariest thing he had seen in his life. The little girl seemed to notice something, looked around and looked at the mirror nearby. She immediately turned pale just like Frank, and said again, this time in the voice fitting to her 6-year-old stature:
"I..i... dont know what you are talking about. What's going on?"
"Bammmmm".
The shotgun sound broke the awkward atmosphere in the room. Rick, an old customer of The Castle was holding his rusty sawed-off, smoke from the barrels, pointing at the girl. The shot blew her head off and the rest of the body fell down to the ground.
Rick loaded the gun again, this time pointing at Frank. He stuttered:
"I....i... dont know him. Her!!! Her!!!! I dont know her"
"Bammm!". The trigger was pulled again. This time Frank fell down. His bodiless head, that is.
Old Rick kneeled down and stick his hand into the little girl's bloody half-head. He held something in his hand, examined it while everyone looked in horror.
"Fucking Synths!"- he mumbled.
Edit: some her/his was messed up | 2016-07-22T03:23:51 | 2016-07-22T01:27:58 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] Reincarnation is real but scientists discover cryogenic freezing prior to death will actually hold souls back from moving on to the next life as the brain doesn't actually die until it is defrosted. This allows the worst souls of society to be literally put on ice and prevented from returning. | I'm pretty sure that I'm the last one left. The last human, in any event. I do still have my friends here - the fish, and those that can eat them. They haven't cared about the changes in the slightest.
We really thought that we were doing the right thing. We'd studied the warming patterns, and we were absolutely causing most of it. Life would have been in rough shape if we'd done nothing.
If only we had studied our solution a little better.
You see, the patterns on Earth are cyclical. Gas composition of the atmosphere, the solar energy outputs from the Sun, even the magnetism of the poles can all change over the eons. We thought we knew when the next ice age would come. We thought we understood the time frames in which the Sun changed its output. When we set off the nukes, it was only to block a tiny bit of the solar energy hitting our world.
Oops.
That tiny bit, combined with a millennia-too-early ice age froze everything. 99% of every living creature starved to death in the first eight years. There weren't enough babies being born for the souls to attach to, and they were lost forever. Ten billion souls that might have lived on, some of whom had existed since the previous ice age... all lost.
As near as I can tell, the only people that survived were those in the polar ice stations - already built to withstand absurd temperatures - and those in space. The astronauts ran out of food first, and one by one the people here in Antarctica have followed them. Now it's only me, and I know there's nobody left for my soul to attach to. Maybe I'll be a fish in the next life.
Or I could walk outside and freeze myself. In perhaps in another ten or thirty thousand years, the ice age will end and remnants of frozen humans will finally pass on - starting with the millions of murderers and rapists and serial killers that we've been freezing for the past two hundred years.
Honestly, maybe I'd be better as a fish. I don't think I'd want to live in that world. | “Please rise.” said the judge. Everyone in the courtroom stood up. “This court finds in favor of the Plaintiff, Typhon Incorporated.”
The Defendant’s shoulders slumped. His attorney placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“I hereby sentence you to be cryogenically frozen in perpetuity to prevent further damages, whether through reincarnation or otherwise.” the judge stated then banged his gavel.
“It’s alright.” the attorney whispered to the Defendant. “We can still appeal this.”
The Defendant was on the verge of tears. “This is bullshit. Typhon controls the media, the banks, probably the courts, too.”
The attorney knew nothing he could say would ease his client’s mind. He silently packed his suitcase while the bailiff led the Defendant away.
Outside, the press were waiting for a statement. They scrambled and talked over each other, like some sort of conjoined mass.
“I am innocent!” the Defendant shouted. “Typhon is lying to you! They’re trying to weed you out so that they’re the only ones left!”
The bailiff tugged on his captive’s arm to lead him to the cell. The Defendant’s attorney rushed to place himself between the journalists and his client.
“My client maintains his innocence, and we will be appealing the judge’s decision.” | 2021-05-27T07:53:35 | 2021-05-27T06:23:29 | 137 | 87 |
[WP] In this world, the truly dedicated can develop a mundane skill to the point of becoming a reality-breaking superpower. You have mastered procrastination to this level.
Quick note (trying to be helpful for anyone who doesn't know):
Procrastination is putting things off until later. | "Tomorrow," I mutter, as I wake up. It's habit now. "Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Deal with that one tomorrow." Three bullets in my heart. A scissor blade buried in my head. A spool of thread wrapped around my left lung.
But none of them are going to kill me. I'm putting that off until tomorrow.
It's getting harder. But I'm still alive. People still need me. I stagger to my feet and head out to the store. I do need food... I tried putting off starving until tomorrow once and, while it's possible, it's also really terrible. And it's not like Mr. Solomon down by the general store is going to run out anytime soon.
His power is selling foodstuffs. If you have the coin, he will always have the grub.
Given the state of the world, he's taken to just tossing the coins into a box on the counter. You walk into the shop, grab a handful of coins from the box, put them on the counter, and give him your order, and he pulls it out from under the rickety counter. Everyone gets basically anything edible that they want.
Right now, the world needs Mr. Solomon almost as much as it needs me.
I grab a handful of coins from the box and toss them onto the counter. "Banana sundae, and an orange juice," I say.
"Of course, sir, right away." He reaches down beneath the cobwebby counter, and pulls out a banana split so cold that ice starts forming on the bowl.
I grunt "Thanks" as I take it. There's nothing much else to say. We each have our place in this broken world, and it just so happens that mine hurts a lot. I drink the orange juice, take the sundae, and stroll out into the street again. I look up in the sky, at the bombs suspended mid-fall, ready to detonate the moment they land.
"I'll deal with that tomorrow," I say, and the bombs continue to hover in mid-air for another day. | EDIT: am on mobile, shitty formatting
"Are you sure you're ready to die?", I asked my wife one more time. "Yeah, it's been a pretty long while, we've been here forever. It's time to move on, Joe."
"Okay."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So Mr. Joe, you're finally ready to do your autobiography?", a young woman's voice spoke through the speaker.
"Yeah, I mean it's been so long; I can't possibly stay alive forever. Well I mean I could, but I'm not gonna procrastinate this time." I told the biographer. I can't remember how many of them have come to me time and again, I think since 1998, when the undertaker threw mankind off hell in a cell, and plummeted sixteen feet through an announcer's table. Probably the 30th or something. I don't know, I've lived through all of their lifetimes. This would be the last one.
"Alright, I'll come over to your place in the afternoon. Sixth Avenue right? 484?"
"Alright. See you in a bit."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ | 2017-09-27T08:54:43 | 2017-09-27T07:03:42 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] A boy in High School discovers he can create nations simply by vandalising his geography book | They weren't kidding when they said the pen was mightier than the sword. Here was Nelly, scribbling away at his coloured maps, imagining new a new nation and its peoples.
"That fills the space.", he remarked after sketching a landmass no bigger than Britain right in the middle of the Atlantic. "They probably feel all lonely like the Australians down south. Maybe a few neighbours..." and he went about dotting the ocean surrounding the new land with more tiny islands.
"What're you up to?", Jade inquired, as she leaned in from Nelly's side.
"Rewriting history." Nelly said.
"By erecting mountains and islands?"
"Who knows what sweeping changes in geography would do to history." Nelly reflected.
*Who knew indeed?* Except, unbeknownst to him, somewhere far removed from his existence, his mischief or imagination, as he would call it, was raising empires with merely the stroke of a pen.
"Reports suggest the island lies north-west of Maine. Coordinates of the epicenter are 44°N and 36°W. Our battlefleet deployed in the area reported numerous unidentified marine-crafts."
The Commander turned to face his computer. His expressions betrayed his bewilderment. No less than a week ago, reports came in of an unidentified landmass off the coast of Canada. Navy patrols to the area faced significant difficulty entering the region, citing an electromagnetic storm that was hampering their electronic equipment. Two pilots narrowly escaped the region with their lives. All commercial flights had been immediately diverted from the area. Two days later, fleet patrols reported brilliant white lights at night. Yesterday, seismic activity was recorded originating from that very location. And today, this; He stared at the screen, unsure of what to think of the object he viewed on his monitor.
It was black, darker than even the black waters near that island. Eight fin-like appendages jutted from its cylindrical hull, or what appeared to look like one. In the front of the cylinder was a deck, positioned perpendicular to the hull. Only, it seemed as though it was undulating, following every movement of the waves.
"Sir, you should look at this..." the marine directed his attention to the new images which had been acquired by the navy fleet closest to the epicenter.
The commander stared at the new screen. Terror was scribbled on his face. The machines were gargantuan - three towering vessels, probably twice the size of their biggest carrier. On them were stationed men and women, wearing uniforms adorned in gold and red. The vessel had an insignia near its bow. Three crescent moons placed outwards side-by-side enclosing a red circle.
Static flared from their communications equipment. "We're....att...". The radio went silent.
Somewhere far away from the chaos, Nelly kept aside his geography textbook and removed his history book from his bag. It was his favourite subject. He turned the page over to the last lesson taught in class - The Rise of Atlantis.
| There's this guy sitting in the desk beside me who hasn't looked up, not even once since the class commenced. Mrs. Hewitts is on her tip toes writing on the chalk board shit that's going to be on our final exam for the year and after staring aimlessly at the board of what was not sinking into my head, I started to wander and found that the guy next to me is completely more comatose than I to this class. Perhaps he was neck deep into that text book studying everything word for word, I'm not sure but I haven't seen him blink once the entire time. Now he's slightly taken a back - there's beads of sweat swirling down his neck onto his back - the glasses on his squarish face are steaming like wildfire and yet there's nothing happening all at once. Seriously, what is up with this guy?
I gnawed at my pencil; eyes fixated on every fibre of his being. Something deterred me from rendering this guessing game useless, so I remained in my otherwise distanced nature. He scribbled continuously over the textbook, which to my surprise as I leaned over, I had discovered that the page was opened up on the map of the world. Risk for idiots? I decided to risk it all. And that's when he pulled me in on everything; the cleverly mapped out nations, all fixed into the western coast of Africa all the way to as far as an almost extensive subcontinent in Asia. They were all drawn in an array of colorful sharpie markers, shaking me from the very core and sending chills about the air. 'Pull yourself together, this isn't real!' I thought to myself. No one man, no boy, a mere high schooler could possibly create real nations with a sharpie.
Mrs. Hewitts, in her usual meek and composed voice, said "Quiet you!" As she started on the next sentence. That was when we both noticed that every leter, word for word, all drawn out in plain white chalk, read the the fictitious nations this guy had just drawn into his text book. Oh man. If this is on the final, I am so fucked.
| 2016-06-04T12:14:42 | 2016-06-04T11:07:21 | 61 | 11 |
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