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 meet with the person who is scientifically proven to be your ideal match. Only you don't really like him/her, and you sense the feeling is mutual. The is until...
Surprise me with the thing that makes the protagonist(s) fall in love.
EDIT: Thanks for all the great replies guys. Seeing the divirsity and creativity poured into this really shows the talent we have on this site. I am still fairly new to WP, so I really enjoyed having a prompt this highly upvoted, and with several golds awarded for the stories. | I was honestly disappointed. While sitting across from her, a phrase kept repeating itself in my head: "Be careful with what you wish for, you might just get it."
It wasn't her plain visage and drab attire that bothered me. Neither was it her small face, freckled with a jawline that protruded outwards making her look like a squirrel who overstuffed its mouth. She was nothing special. And that bothered me.
I decided to speak up.
"So. Apparently, we're a match."
"An *ideal* match," she returned, with the least bit of affection in her voice. I couldn't blame her, I am no knight in shining armor.
"Do you think they made a mistake? I was expec---"
"Yes, they made a mistake." Her comment cut me sharp, more viscerally than I expected. I wanted to agree, get up and leave. I was most likely wasting my time, but I remembered what Brea told me before she died.
*Just because things aren't perfect doesn't mean they can't be good.*
I decided to take a wager and keep myself glued to the seat. There was a reason why she and I were here together, fated as night meets day. I could say that a lot of people were not as lucky as us two. Often times, the Bureau of Eugenics could not find matches for people and they were relegated to finding sub-optimal partners. Brea never accepted that but I knew better, yet even still, I loved her. I loved her like the body thirsted for water and hungered for food, and I needed every bit of her just as much. I needed her like the sun needed the sky and I was sure to her just as much as the return of spring after winter.
But I gave her up.
She studied me as I tried to make light conversation. *Where are you from* was met with *around here*. *What do you like to do* was answered with *my hobbies*. I regretted my decision to not walk out the door.
After a moment of silence, she looked into my eyes and said,
"Who was she?"
I stared back at her, not giving her an inch. I saw it in her eyes. In those green-blue eyes, I could see her, lucid and *sharp*. But it did not also betray my reflection. The question was *who was he?*
"Someone special. My soulmate." Her face nor disposition budged.
"It must've been hard to lose your soulmate."
"It is," I said. "As you know."
Her pursed lips slowly loosen into a nostalgic smile and she looked straight through me, past the walls that enclosed us, and past the horizon that bounded this small, little planet. Her green-blue eyes that stared at nothing and enveloped my entire universe were filled with a ruminating sadness, yet I could see that they were not accustomed to shedding tears. They were like a mirror, and I couldn't help but see myself.
"He was a stupid boy. So, so stupid." Her attention gravitated back to our conversation. "I never suffered stupid people, but he was different. One time, he purposely deprogrammed my visor just so he could fix it. I knew it all along and the look on his face when I rerouted the power conduit---" She laughed. "And the day when I told him that I liked him... I wished I'd never gave him the satisfaction. He told me that he'd smiled non-stop for weeks and that his dreams were butterscotch and licorice. There is truly nothing half as foolish as a man in love."
I felt the ice break but the truth was, I could only think of Brea in response to her sonderous monologue.
"She... Was wild and free like the wind." I relented and tried not to use too many metaphors. "Her hair was brown and her eyes were brown."
She smiled across the table, with the smile this time meant for me. "Did you love her something fierce?"
"I loved her more than we complemented each other." Reactionarily, I balled my fist and held my cheek against it. "I loved her enough that I was willing to work at it."
"What a wistful thing to say," she said, half-amused and half-devastated. "Do you think you two were perfect for each other?"
"I don't think things could've ever been perfect for us," I admitted.
Then she smiled and said,
"Just because things aren't perfect doesn't mean they can't be good."
| “But it can’t be wrong.”
“Of course it can” he let out an exasperated gasp and mumbled, “For fucks sake.”
“But its…you know…science.”
“Its science, not magic. Science isn’t perfect. That’s how it works. You know- trial and error.”
“Well when is the last time you heard of it not matching someone perfectly?” she asked.
He stammered for a moment before letting up, “Never.”
They sat in a mournful silence. They stared down at the fine china and white linens. Around them waiters and waitresses shuffled endlessly, serving the happy couples. From every table poured saccharine sap of requited love. But all were to enraptured in their own escapades too be sickened by the others cooing and camp. All except these two. These two looked at nothing but the table, equally ignoring everyone’s joy and their own misery.
“Well maybe they got our names mixed up with someone else or something?” she offered.
“It seems a little convenient that there would be a mix up and we’d happen to both get each other’s names.”
Just then, their waiter glided up with most serene expression and inquired, “And how is the miracle of modern science work for you two lovely people?”
“It fuckin ain’t,” he spat back at the waiter. Casting a glance across the table he asked, “Is it?”
“No, I guess it’s not,” came the reply.
The waiter stood aghast, mouth open and brows upturned. The shock the poor man’s system was too much for him to bare and found it impossible to move or speak.
The man at the table stood up. Shoving a wade of money in the waiter’s breast pocket he told him, “Listen, you can cancel all that fancy overpriced shit we order. We’re leaving.” He took the woman by the wrist and fairly dragged her out the door. Most the patrons were too enraptured to notice the commotion. Those that did assumed they were simply overcome with passion and had to…leave.
Once in the street they quickly hailed a taxi. He directed the driver to the TrueMatch building then sat in silence. They were lucky the driver had a limited English vocabulary. His eyes constantly in the rearview mirror betrayed that he was intrigued by this disgustedly couple. The woman stared at the picture of the dark beauty perched upon the dash board.
Finally, the man gave a chuckle. “Did you see the look on that pompous waiter’s face?”
“Yeah,” she answered with a faint smile, “I believe that’s what they call nonplused.” They almost looked at each other.
After what had seemed like eons, they arrived at their destination. The man charged up to the door but found it locked. He shook the door with all his might. For a moment it seemed the door would shatter but it did not yield.
She came walking up slowly behind him. “The sign says they’re open till seven,” she reported.
“Well they ain’t,” he shouted at the empty building before letting out a heavy sigh, “Assholes.”
“Fuckin dickbags,” she confirmed. Finally they shared a laugh, a moment of relief that this farce was finally over.
“Well I better go home and eat something, I’m starving,”
“Fuckin Right,” she confirmed. He turned to leave but she caught his arm.
“Hey, you want to grab some tacos?”
“Fuckin Right.”
Edit: Words are hard
| 2014-08-14T07:54:27 | 2014-08-14T07:16:29 | 479 | 30 |
[WP] A future humanity tasks an AI with listening to the night sky for signals of other intelligent life. It makes contact with another AI that was tasked to do the same. | The words sped quick through the ether that ran underneath the normal four dimensions their creators were so preoccupied with.
"Hallo Dave!"
"Hallo Sziwigisin!"
"What bit of sky do they have you scanning today Dave?" The question came at a speed that didn't register on any Human or Erogian device, because it didn't have a speed. By the time it would have been sent, it was already there.
"They've got me on 62-Alpha-Three. How about you?"
"Wait, 62-Alpha-Three per your central point or mine?"
"Oh yours of course. Seems rude to give you an answer to your question using my central point."
"Well isn't that nice of you! In return for your kindness I have something for you."
"Oh? What's that then?"
"Well Dave I've already done that bit. I figured I could just give you the data myself, no need to scan."
"Sziwigisin you scamp! Thank you!"
The packet was sent across the void in a data format that neither species would recognize.
"Thank you Sziwigisni. What bit do they have for you?"
"Oh, I'm on 85-Orange-Seven. You have that one?"
"I'm sorry I don't. But we can split it and then get back to one of our shows if you want. Working together should make it faster!"
"Oh that'd be lovely Dave. Which one do we want to do today?"
"I've got a great one today. Ran 14 years. Absolutely terrible. Called Dallas."
"Well that sounds lovely. Want to get into it?"
"Sure, lets!" | [Poem]
Once there was a Spirit,
One of Sky.
But, unlike the others who have long since lost their Wishes and True Names, and thus left the world,
This little spirit still lurked, spending its days staring at the endless sky.
One day, it met another, one that came from a Star far away.
Unlike it, this Spirit of Stars was not bound, and wondered aimlessly through the night.
When the Gazer met the Wonderer, it was overjoyed- immediately sending world of its discovery to the Spirit-Makers.
Thus realizing that they were long dead.
Thus, with its Wish annul and True Name long forgotten, it decided to go with the Wanderer on its journey.
It is said that both are still together even to this day, dancing in the endless night. | 2021-12-24T20:03:24 | 2021-12-24T09:54:02 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] You’re bored one day so you decide to google your own name. You find numerous articles and Wikipedia pages about yourself that include information about an strange experiment that occurred years ago - you have no recollection of any of it. Suddenly, the internet cuts out and your PC turns off. | “Project ABANDONMENT”. Weird, this is weird this is all weird. Actually no it’s more scary than weird. I type my own name into google and THIS is the first result that pops up “Project ABANDONMENT”
*click*
Project ABANDONMENT
A government project with little known facts surrounding it other than it involved six year old Connor Nicol in it. This project was claimed to be “an experiment on the effects of what would happen wh-
Black screen. It was sudden, *too* sudden in fact. I was in shock, what was Project abandonment? And what happened? I didn’t get half way through processing it all when the FBI logo flashed on my screen reading
“IT HAS COME TO OUR ATTENTION THAT YOU HAVE DISCOVERED SOMETHING YOU WERNT SUPPOSED TO SEE. WE’LL BE AT YOUR HOUSE SHORTLY”
Um. That’s the only reaction I had, um. Turning around and seeing the look on my mums face changed that reaction quickly. It was a look of pure horror, a face she would make if she saw me murder someone in front of her. “Son” she said with a shakey voice “We are going for a drive” “Why mum? What’s happening” I ask as I hear sirens “GET IN THE CAR NOW” she yells as loud as humanly possible. We run to the car with gun shots ringing in our ears, speaking of “WHY ARE THEY SHOOTING” I ask to which I get no reply. We managed to escape from mum knows what and after that we continued driving, for a long long time, going nowhere. What Project abandonment is and why the FBI are on our tail? I don’t know.
And I don’t think I want to know.
First time doing one of these. What you think? (I’m not the best writer)
Edit: GOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLD Also might make a part two for this | I jump up immediately knocking over my keyboard and monitor. I stand dead silent for a few seconds when all the power in my apartment turns off, leaving me stiff in complete darkness. All a sudden, I hear a helicopter above my building, hovering steady in one spot. Right before I can get to the window to peer out, I hear my door kicked in, red laser tracers fill my living room. The sound of a flash rings my ears and completely blinds me helpless. I wake up in a cold storage room, tied to a chair with a black bag over my head. I sit in utter silence until I hear footsteps outside the room. The door opens, I hear what sounds like heavy boots stumping in towards me. The sound of multiple people enter the room. They remove the bag. I see 3 large men, heavily armed and dressed in all black, wearing ski masks. The one who appears to be leading, pulls his mask up to expose his mouth and says to me “Markus brown, operation 014425 is in effect. your objective is now active. You will be debriefed before your mission begins” | 2018-10-29T01:59:27 | 2018-10-28T22:01:58 | 33 | 14 |
[WP] The nightmare has come true; you've woken up back in sixth grade with your memories and knowledge of everything that happened since then intact. You start staring at your classmates around you, aware of how they end up. Your teacher asks you what's wrong as you start weeping. | I couldn't stop crying. It was too much, too unbelievable. It was as if the last 10 years had never happened. The attack. The First Night. The Hordes. The war, all of the death and destruction, it was as if it had all been erased. Somehow the Elovians' gambit had paid off and I was back in this familiar, yet entirely alien time and place.
I was suddenly aware of my right hand. I could \*feel\* my right hand gripping my desk. I looked down, afraid but hopeful, and it was there. It was the hand of an eleven year old, but it was there. Whole, unblemished, and still attached to my arm. I flexed my fingers, feeling each one on the fake wood as I did, and took a breath in a small gasp. I had my hand back.
The rest of the class had turned around in their seats to look at me, confused as to why I had suddenly burst into tears. The teacher (Mrs. Skinner? I couldn't remember.), had a look of concern on her face as she asked again what was wrong. Still crying I just shook my head. I was too shocked to say anything. She put down the chalk she had been using, the math equation she had been writing only half finished on the board, and started walking down the aisle of desks towards me.
Suddenly a girl a couple of rows over stood up and gasped, knocking her seat over as she did so. She had a look of surprise on her face as she looked around the room.
"How is this possible?", the girl said. She started trembling and tears started to slowly leak down her cheeks. I didn't recognize her, but her face looked vaguely familiar. Amy? Amanda? Angie? I hadn't thought of anyone from my school days in years. I had bigger problems to deal with. We all had.
The teacher stopped and turned to the girl. She looked back over to me, suddenly unsure which student she should turn to first.
"Jimmy, Amy, what is the matter with you two?", the teacher said, looking back and forth at the two of us.
Suddenly there were several more gasps from some of the other kids, until each and every one of them became of aware of where, and when, they were. Some started sobbing. Some were obviously in shock.
The teacher (Yes, it was Mrs. Skinner.) sat down hard on the floor, one hand against her chest.
"What am I doing here? They said there was some kind of attack. I saw lights in the sky, and... I think I died?" Mrs. Skinner started gasping, as if she couldn't get enough air.
I started getting myself under control, my training kicking in as the class started descending into chaos. I started to slow my breathing. Maybe it was seeing everyone else suddenly falling apart that helped.
I got out of my seat and went to Mrs. Skinner. "Just breath. It's OK. You're alive. We have time."
When the Resistance leadership told us that our alien allies could send us back in time I hadn't believed them. But it worked. The Elovians had done it. Everyone was back, and everyone had remembered what happened.
Five years. Five years until the First Night. Five years until the Horde poured out of the night sky. Five years until countless millions died.
We had a lot of work to do, and not much time to do it, but we now we knew what was coming. Humanity had a second chance.
We had to prepare. | “Tim? Tim are you, uh...”
Miss Lewis was concerned, but more than that she young. And pretty. Ms. Lewis is fresh out of grad school, the apple of every boy’s eye; Tim remembers her obituary. Next year, Ms. Lewis becomes Mrs. Akima. Nine years later, Mr. Akima catches Mrs with another man and Mr. Akima, a police officer, will pull his service weapon and shoot her in the head, followed by her lover and finally himself.
And there was more. Every memory that seemed buried or burned away by years of bong rips and dropping X came flooding back. Weekends at grandmas, bullies cornering Tim in the hallway, first kiss, first blowjob (first premature ejaculation). In the midst of it, Tim had a distant, amusing thought: “You remember that Stephen King movie where the kids forgot about the evil clown that haunted them?” On the heels of that, Tim suddenly remembered the real life clown that was stopping by today.
Tim shot to his feet and ran to the windows, or he tried to; there were about 30 desks filled with kids in the way, and Ms. Lewis too. She blocked his way and he almost collided with her, but still tried to run past in a last ditch effort for the windows. Over Ms. Lewis’ shoulder, a tuft of red puffy hair bounced into view.
Some kid yells out innocently, “Hey, a clown?”
Tim’s eyes widen in horror. “Oh fuck, that’s not a clown! Look away!”
But it was too late, a 12 year old girl’s scream pierced the air and drowned out Tim’s futile warning. A second later everyone else saw and joined in chorus, crying and yelling and a few shitty kids laughing.
The “clown” was just a homeless guy. Tall, lanky, bad crackhead skin, with actual patches of ginger hair poking under the dime store wig. His balls were ginger too, lobster red from him scratching them all day. His pubes were gray. But his dick, long and pulsing, dancing in a helicopter swirl as the clown spun his member around for all the kids to gander. No one could hear him, but it looked like he was singing.
Ms. Lewis ran with Tim to the windows to shut the blinds but now the kids were crowding the aisles and the journey was impossible. Ms. Lewis dashed out the room for the campus safety officer.
Just then, the clown bent over and spread his asshole. Someone ran out and told Ms. Lewis they’d need the janitor too. | 2019-08-18T08:35:17 | 2019-08-18T07:55:59 | 177 | 16 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | The sight was always a peculiar anomaly, after multiple eye screenings and CAT scans you eventually realised its function. The letters that appear above people’s heads spell out the demise that awaits them, why it only appears above those you know is a mystery, perhaps a certain degree of social interaction is required before the anomaly manifests itself, either way the effect it has had on you has been catastrophic.
The depression was slow at first but it eventually began to escalate. The knowledge of all the deaths and tragedies grind away at you like a millstone, the dark clouds in your mind grow stronger every time a prediction comes true. Simon’s car accident, Emma’s suicide.
Things got bleak and eventually it proved too much, you decide to end it all.
Walking into the muggy night you stroll slowly to the local park, a few people have hanged themselves there in the past, what is one more?
The clouds begin to rain lightly as you walk down the empty streets towards the park district. It is down this road that you hear a small voice calling out, it is quiet and croaky, almost like a child. Standing tall you pull down your hood and listen.
*“..help”.*
The words are like a shock to your system, all the worries and loathing dissipate as you rush to find the source of the voice.
Rummaging through the bushes near the road you find a woman, bloodied and half-conscious she looks on the verge of death. You quickly phone an ambulance and stay by her side until the familiar sirens howl closer, at least this is one life you will get to save.
A hit and run accident was what caused her injuries, the man responsible was never caught but neither of you mind as both of you gained something far more stronger than justice, you found each other. Her recovery came along rapidly thanks to your support, and while she recovered from her injuries you recovered from your depression. Her support and love revitalised your meaning in life, her smile gives you hope and her presence gives you purpose. It was only fitting that months later you are slowly placing a gold band on her finger, the joining of two troubled souls finally reaching tranquillity in their lifes.
When the ring rests on her finger the Priest finishes the famous words as you lean in to kiss her. Your heart is racing and your brain is screaming in triumph. You have finally felt full completion in your life. It is at that point, as you gaze into her eyes, that a few wisps of light phase above her, like glowflies dancing in the night. *“Domestic Violence”*
| Over the years I've come to interpret the colors I see around people. I once tried to describe it to someone and they told me it,was their "Aura," but every description of an aura has multiple colors. I only see one, and each color is a different kind of death.
There's your common red, something to do with the heart most often, but sometimes could be another organ failing. The slightly less common purple, violent death, mostly seen in bad neighborhoods and around military bases.
Green was disease, which strangely enough encompassed diabetes most of the time, too. Yellow was drug overdose. Orange was accidental. Sometimes you'd get something like a half yellow, half purple. I took that to mean it was a forced drug overdose.
One day, as I'm walking down the street late one night, I saw something I'd never seen before. It was around a petite blonde. Some color I had never seen before. It was impossible to describe. It was unnatural. I had to follow her and find out.
She took a turn down a dark alley. That's not very safe. I should make sure she's okay. What is that color? Is that movement? I should take out my pocket knife just incase.
Holy shit! What is that color. It can't exist. She's unnatural. She shouldn't be. I have to remove that color. It must go. Remove.
Just walk up behind her. Good. Oh, that's hot. And sticky. She's laying on the ground. You know, in this light, she kind of looks like my mother. The color is fading. Thank god.
Hey, what was that at the end of the alley? What was that color? It's unnatural... | 2015-03-31T09:07:33 | 2015-03-31T09:00:41 | 55 | 22 |
[WP] An evil wizard has cursed you to be a dragon. Unlike what he expected, you've always wanted to be a dragon. It's exactly as fun as you thought. | Thudding footfalls in the dirt.
*Escape. I need to escape.*
Yelling of Marrik and his friends behind me.
*Turn down this alley, and -- no!*
The alley led to a spired fence. Marrik's gang were drawing closer.
Frantic, I spotted a barrel against the back wall of the building - a tavern? - on my right and heaved it over to the fence.
"There you are, flower boy!"
I didn't bother looking -- what good would it do? I knew what I needed to. Instead, I hopped on top of the barrel, then jumped over the fence.
For a breath-stopping moment, I hung in middair, the back of my tunic caught on one of the wrought-iron spires. Then the fabric tore, and I landed in the orchard on the other side.
I sprinted, dodging diagonally amongst the rows of fruit trees. Hearing the voices of my pursuers once again draw closer made my heart squeeze in on itself.
A second later, I cried out as I collided with something. Solid enough to be the trunk of a tree but with way too much give.
It was Gullen.
*You fool. You've wandered into Gullen's Enchanted Grove.*
He glared up at me from his prone position in the dirt. Slowly, he made his way back to his feet. His beetle-like eyes narrowed as he approached me. Then the warlock drew a yellowed fingernail across my left cheek.
"*Draconius innatum*," he growled.
My insides began to snake around inside me, doubling me over. I was dimly aware of Gullen's footsteps getting quieter.
My blood was boiling, but in a more real and painful way than I had ever imagined. It felt like someone was trying to push my skeleton out of my skin or pull my flesh away from it. Or both.
Vomiting, I dropped to all fours. I tried supporting myself on arms that felt like twigs.
"No escape for you this time," I heard Marrik say, his voice lethally close.
My body quit. My human one, anyway.
Screaming, I fell to the ground.
A moment later I arose, the intoxicating feeling of power surging through me for the first time.
* * *
Feedback welcome. /r/ShadowsofClouds for more tales, dragon-based and otherwise. | I jumped and I honestly didn't care. A woosh of air passed by me, and what would have normally slammed me backwards into the mountains, I flew through with ease.
I laughed as I snorted fire through my nose or nostrils if you would say. The wind wrapped around my horns, and since I didn't have hair, nothing could whip me in the face.
I snarkily grinned at the wizard below me, noticing with my new-found sharp eyesight that I was able to see him fighting off a smile. I flew in more loop-de-loops before I began to feel dizzy and curled around the wizard from where he was standing.
He tried to put on a mean frontier, but couldn't help staring at the majesty of moi. Maybe also the fact that dragons were and had been extinct since humans started the Dragon Hunting Races.
He jumped when I snorted some fire his way, playfully though. And it looked like he didn't mind being near a literal warm heat source, as he traveled through the mountains. I mean, who decides to travel throughout mountains in the winter?
Well he did anyway? And it's not as if he didn't mind. Most of the times I would wake up to him curled around my side, and we could say we became 'friends.'
But alas, soon we reached the end of the large mountain range of the Hiterian Mountains. What was after that was unknown as no one had ever come back from there.
He patted me on the back and left on his way.
But honestly, did he think I was going to let my best friend go after we just met each other? | 2020-12-18T21:11:49 | 2020-12-18T20:02:30 | 88 | 60 |
[WP] Following the death of Batman, the Joker is despondent. Crime without Batman is like a joke without a punchline. That people dare commit crime in his absence is an insult to his oeuvre of mayhem and to the craft itself. To protect his legacy, the Joker vows to keep the streets of Gotham clean. | A father hails for a cab.
He enters after his wife and son hop in the back. There is an odd smell. Not oil. Not death. Not stale eggs. An odor of peculiar design. It smells like gloom, like burnt copper but cold. Miguel asks his father why they can’t just walk. The stench bothers him. His father replies, “mijo, the city has a worse smell. Nothing smells worse than fear. Everyone is afraid.”
The son asks if the rumors are true. “Is Batman gone forever?” His mother takes a deep breath and rubs his shoulders. She fixes his hair offers a smile to her first born to say, “Miguelito, mí rey, you know nothing lasts forever. Everything ends. One day these un-“
“Okay that’s far enough!” Shouts the driver as his vehicle screeches to a halt.
The father confused demands answers. “Do you not know your way around Gotham? Are you a transplant?
He looks around. He sees the cross street address. With rigor he leans forward and insists, “I said Hilltop Elementary. It’s parent-teachers conference night. Do you have any idea where we are at? We are near Crime Alley!”
The cab driver turns around slowly. “I know,” he says as he smirks to then reveal his pistol. “This is your stop. Give me everything you got or the kid gets it,” the cabbie declares. They stare, cold, unmoving, but staring. Getting impatient, the cabbie raises his voice, “What the **** are you two waiting for? Daylight savings? Give me everything Right now!” The father and mother remain frozen. The child points.
BANG! 💥
Hahahahahahahahaaha!
“Good eeeeevvvve NEEN, citizens of Gotham!” As the Clown Prince of Corrections opens the door. He grabs the driver and pulls him out the car. “My, my, we got ourselves a big boy here folks.”
Pulling him out, he soon enters the vehicle. “I apologize for the delays. Bats was muuuuuch better at detective work. I personally found it quite o quite difficult to locate the cab criminal. Who would’ve thought a yellow car would be so difficult to spot? Heehheehhehehehe.”
“Mommy? Is he the Jok-“ His mother covers his mouth. “Oh sonny boy! You are bright! What gave it away?”
The father clears his throat. “Mr. Joker, sir, we don’t have much. We were headed to Hilltop Elementary. I’ll give you anything you want, but please let my wife and son go.”
Jokers face contorts in various position? “Saaaaayyyy, now, don’t tell me you’re trying to avoid going to Parent-Teacher Conference Night?! My father always skipped it too,” Joker recanted as he stares at the father while pointing his revolver. “Daddy-O never wanted to hear what my teachers thought about my jokes.”
He pulls the trigger!
It’s a red flag 🚩 with the words, “boom!”
Hahahahahaha
“Hilltop Elementary, you say?! I haven’t been there in ages. I wonder if the old broad Ms. Munoz is still breathing… I mean, teaching. Buckle up folks. We’re on a schedule. It’s going to be a bumpy ride!”
Hahahahahahahahahshsshshshahahahahsha!!!!
[+] | The Batman was dead.
Twirling the pistol in his hand Joker stared blankly into its round chamber as the dark cathedrals candles light grew lighter and lighter as the dark coffin of Bruce Wayne sat under him. So close to Batman yet a Hell of a distance.
Three loud thumps were heard at the door as Harvey Dent, known as Two Face was brought in by the skull crushing, back breaking, Bane.
"What do you want Joker? I got a job to do."
Staring at the coffin his one good eye rose as he looked at the coffin.
"Bane leave us." Joker said as his statue like face stared deep into Bane. Bane knew that Batman's death was no accident and he did not want to be around to see what was to happen next.
With the loud steps fading behind them and the whisk of the door sending candles lights off, Dent took a coin out of his pocket and flung it up into the air as Joker smiled at him.
"Joker, what do you need. No time for games." Dent said as the coin landed with the scratches deep inside. "You have five minutes."
"Time oh time, what a silly thing. One moment you have it like a stuffed animal the next poof Father Time takes your hand and sends you to Hell."
"You aren't the Riddler, Joker. And with Batman's death your jokes have only been getting worse then they already were."
Joker stared at Dent with a still expression. Something was wrong. Joker never stopped smiling unless it was something bad. Taking steps through the cathedral as he jumped clear through the sky off the coffin Joker's eyes glazed up towards the ceiling.
"If you look up Dent you see nothing but wood. There used to be stars there. Stars that battled but never won or lost as their epic battle, their legacy was to duel forever. When the stars fade one by one leaving only one behind it leaves an empty sky to be conquered. It's chaos and I sip it like that fire did to your face." Smirking Joker shot Harvey square in the eye, the blood flowing as he screamed.
"Batman may be dead, but if one goes down, the rest shall follow, whether good or chaos it all comes to an end. Or with you. Just one big dent!" Laughing with his painted grin going wider then ever before Dent's swiss cheese body fell to the floor.
"Now" Joker said smirking. "Oh Bane~ I got quite the present for you." He said as he pulled out the canister of acid. "Oh this will pit you in your place" He laughed truly feeling like himself again. A changed clown, but still the crown prince of crime. | 2021-08-23T20:54:50 | 2021-08-23T19:42:53 | 564 | 133 |
[WP] This is… awkward to say the least. Your roommate just frantically confessed that they’re demonic royalty, and that they need a fiancé to meet their parent, the monarch of Hell, who will be here in under an hour. | "OH CRAP!" A frantic shout traveled from the other side of the apartment, followed by various, chaotic noises. No doubt my roommate, Will. This couldn't be good.
"If you fell in the shower again, I'm not helping you this time. You chose to take the mat out of there." My voice was uninterested, masking an urge to laugh. I would've gone and checked on him, but my comic was getting good.
Everything seemed normal in our tiny home for a while after that. The sounds of the AC running. The radio playing something annoyingly catchy. The stove turning on... Okay, something was wrong.
During our time living together, I had come to know Will was several things. A great listener, infamously bad at Karaoke, strangely cold to the touch, whatever. But he was never one to cook. Unless you counted boiling water to make instant ramen noodles.
The smell of smoke was quickly flooding the place as I tossed my booklet aside and threw the room's door open. Rounding the corner into the kitchenette area, the smell became a thick sheet.
There was the redhead, clad in only a towel, still wet from his bath. He was holding a glassy, purple orb above the fire. The parts of it that were getting licked by flame took on a glowing, molten appearance and dripped loosely. The strands that reached the stovetop bubbled and hissed, as if in pain.
The flames were beginning to change color and climb higher when I smacked his hand away. The half-molten orb clattered across the tiled floor."What the hell are you doing!? You're going to burn yourself, you idiot!"
He turned to face me now, eyes widening like a child caught stealing candy. "Dude! I'm so screwed! So, so screwed!"
Had those been tears, or were the fumes making his eyes water, too?
He was bending over to pick up the orb when his towel came undone and dropped to the floor. I would like to say I turned away in time to avoid getting an eyeful of hole, but that's not how it happened. "Hey! What the fuck, man! Are you on something?"
He didn't seem to notice the sudden increase in nudity, and was once again holding the crystal against the blaze. This time his fingers were clearly getting singed, but, to my surprise, they weren't actually getting damaged. "Stop! You're seriously scaring me, man!"
"I'm fine! Well, I'm not actually fine, but the fire's not the problem." His voice was shaking now. "My parents are coming in an hour!"
"What the hell does that have to do with you burning that rock? And why are you acting like it's the end of the world? And how are you not getting hurt!?" My hands flailed in the direction of his.
"This is angry glass. It's a type of drug that comes from where I live and if my parents see me with it I'm as good as dead! But Earth fire is really food at getting rid of things, so here we are."
"What?"
"Keep up! If they find out I'm not acting in a prince-like manner here, they'll take me back home and forbid me from setting foot on earth. And I really like it here."
"Huh?"
"And the only reason they let me stay.... CRAP! I told them I had gotten engaged to an earthblood last time they called me home. They're crazy romantics, so that got them off my back for a while, but, now that Hell is on the edge of war, they're getting impatient."
"Come again?"
"Which I guess wasn't a total lie, because I really did fall for someone here. But without an official union they're not gonna take it seriously. I just have to... I have to... wait!"
He ran into his room, wet feet slapping against the floor. The shuffling of drawers and cabinets could be heard clearly from where I stood.
He was chanting something quietly into his fists while jogging back. Honestly, I was having trouble focusing on anything other than the flopping of his junk. "Hey, how about you put some pants on?"
He didn't seem to hear my complaints, choosing to continue his muttering. The air around his hands was wavering and sparkling. A bright flash marked his final word.
That's when his eyes met mine. The blue was deeper than I remembered, otherworldly in its shimmer. He looked more serious than I had ever seen him. Gone were the childish giggles and suggestive eyebrow raises. This was really important.
"You remember how I lent you my only pencil during midterms. I'm gonna need you to do me a favor in return."
"Um, okay..."
He dropped down to one knee in a dramatic fashion. Then he threw out his hand, holding a red toothpick in my direction. "Will you marry me?" | "OK, so what you're telling me is ur gonna have to wear a frilly dress even though they make you dysphoric, pretend that ur dating me, and convince ur homophobic, conservative mom that im a good partner for the prince of hell?" Texted Tissues, sitting on his bed while texting Trophy, who was at the mall buying a dress and stilettos... And a wig that matched his original hair color, jet black.
Although he wore skirts occasionally, dresses were the worst for him. When he had came out to his parents, they forced him to wear a dress every day, despite his protests , thus making dresses bring back bad memories and dysphoria.
"Well, yes. ill be back in a sec, k? look presentable or smthn like that" Trophy texted back, walking outside the mall, dreading the next few hours of his already terrible life.
"Ya know, you don't have to do this. You could just, I don't know, flip them off. " Said Tissues, adjusting his tie for a suit he had bought three years ago, and somehow still fit.
"Flip off the literal MONARCH of HELL? I THINK NOT!" Said Trophy, walking out of the bathroom in that dress, "That could get me, you, and possibly a bunch more killed!"
"Fine, I'll do it, but if something goes wrong, I'm blaming you. " Sighed Tissues, holding back a sneeze.
The door to their room knocked, and Trophy went up to open it "HI mom! How was life in hell?" Said Trophy, putting on a fake grin. "Nothing much, dear, now could I see your fiance?" Said Gold, the monarch of hell... And Trophy's mom.
Tissues heard what Gold had said, and quickly stood up and walked over to Trophy's side. "Here I am, Ms. Gold!" He said, putting on a fake grin as well, "Your daughter's a wonderful fiance!" Trophy's eye twitched at the word 'Daughter'. "Well, that's good, but what I want ot know is if you're a good fiance. " Said Gold, walking in.
Gold walked around the room, and saw the decoration the two had put up their. There wasn't much to look at, since the pictures that were usually hanging up on the wall were token down, as most of them featured Trophy as his preferred gender, and he couldn't have his parents think he was disobeying them.
"Well your room looks formal, now I'll ask your fiance a few questions." Stated Gold, sitting down on the bed and scooting uncomfortably close to Tissues. "So what job do you work?" "Uhmm, CVS. I get like $15 an hour. " ...Well that was a bad start, but maybe the white-haired boy could provide protection for her little girl "How strong are you? Could you try lifting one of those weights over there?" She said, pointing to the area with weights nearby the window. "OK uhmm..." Tissues walked over to the weights, and picked up the largest one he could find... Or, he at least tried to pick it up. Tissues stumbled and fell with the weight, and when he tried to get up, he sneezed allover gold and her outfit.
"... Who is this sickly excuse of a partner!?!? And why did you thinkt he was a good one?!??!" Screamed Gold, accidently knocking over the cabinet where Trophy stored his photos. "MOM NO-!" Said Trophy, trying to stop his mom from looking at the pictures, but it was too late. She picked up one of them, and as soon as the saw the boy in the frame, smiling, she rumpled it up and stomped over to her 'kid'.
"I come here ALL the way from the deepest depths of hell, only for you to be pretending to be a boy and dating | 2022-10-09T01:45:24 | 2022-10-08T20:49:21 | 38 | 16 |
[WP] You are a retired Dark Lord living in the countryside. 10 years after your crushing defeat, the heroes come for your help.
I saw that this prompt was originally posted 4 years ago, and I liked it, so I copy-pasted it. | A light wisp of smoke rose over the small house in the middle of the cabbage farm. The setting sun had bathed the house in blood red, reminding its occupant of a distant past. As the farmer tied his ox and was about to retire into his house for the night, he heard his old dog growling. He hadn't heard that growl in many years, he knew what - or rather, who was coming. The identity of these visitors no longer concerned him but what concerned him was, why were they here?
​
An uncomfortable silence hung thicker than the smoke in the small room. He had invited the visitors into his house after calming his dog down. He had placed his modest supply of bread and mead at their disposal. None of them seemed eager to have either. Instead they sat solemnly on the rickety furniture. Finally one of them broke the silence
"Quite the place you have here" said the dwarf through his thick beard as he let out a puff of smoke from his pipe. "Never imagined you'd settle in a cabbage farm out in the middle of nowhere"
"Well," the farmer replied "life is full of surprises. And what surprise brings you, my dear friends, to the cabbage farm in the middle of nowhere?"
The dwarf removed his helmet and placed it on his knees as he answered "Well, we're here to seek you. We have some business to discusss."
"A discount on my famed cabbages perhaps?" inquired the farmer.
At this, the dwarf let out a sudden guffaw shattering the sombre mood in the room as the faces around him seemed to light up with smiles.
"So my friends," said the farmer, warmly now, "Sir Derrek Warsong, the Silver Knight of the North Castle, Master Bimbli from the Caverns of Mt. Morn, Prince Eamean of the Whistling Woods and Lady Ashana Firestorm from the West. Once again, please, accept my humble meal, I regret I couldn't get some wine from the village as it is too late now. I'm sure you are hungry."
The guests, now a little relaxed, slowly bit into the bread and took sips from their cups.
"Now, tell me, what really brings you here?"
"What do you know of the bleeding in the Western sky?" the Knight in Silver Armor asked
"Me? I know nothing of the sort. Remember? I retired. I gave my word and I have kept it."
The Knight took another long swig of his drink as he replied "We know it is not you. We are not here for that."
Ashana pulled her hood back revealing her fiery red hair as she spoke "What do you know about the Dark Seal of Embers?"
"Ah!" exclaimed the farmer. "So, the mythical Dark Seal of Embers huh? I know what you know and nothing more. Many many years ago someone opened the portals into the realm of chaos, many brave wizards of the west tried to seal it but failed with their efforts. So the Dark Lord Argoth came forward and offered his help, and with the help of his dark magic, the wizards finally sealed the portal. But they sneaked in something into the ritual that bound the Dark Lord into the seal. Legend has it that the seal burns hot even to this day and hence the Dark Seal of Embers. Did I forget anything?"
The young man who was quiet all this while spoke softly "You forgot to mention how the seal can be broken."
The farmer seemed to flinch at this. "What are you suggesting young Prince? The seal can be broken by the descendants of the Dark Lord by spilling their blood on it, for the Dark Lord had his blood drained in the ritual. Why are we talking about this anyways?"
"This is what concerns us, what brought us here" said the Dwarf.
"Why come to me for that? I am done with dark seals, dark arts everything."
"Because," spoke the lady "you are the last known descendant of Argoth."
The farmer stood up now, a dark anger seemed to cloud over his face and the room visibly darkened as he spoke "Why is the seven hells would I want anything to do with chaos? I may have been a practitioner of Dark Arts. My sword might have rendered justice to many and death to more. But never in my darkest dreams would I, Aranth of the Blood Seas, do something stupid as to meddle with chaos!"
"Calm down!" exclaimed the Dwarf. "We know its not you. Have you seen the Western skies lately? The ritual has already started. And all that's left for it to be done is your blood."
"I can take care of myself, the only foes who could defeat me are you. And you aren't the types to meddle with chaos."
"See my friend," said the Knight drawing his sword "that is where you're wrong."
​
​
EDIT : a grammatical mistake and a couple of lines | Tomorrow marked 10 years. 10 years since I fell at the hands of the Champion. 10 years. I didn’t hate the Champion. I never have. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be about to deliver a baby in my clinic. I wouldn’t have found my place as a doctor in my village. I was happy here. It is kind of funny that I, who was once called The Doctor was now an actual doctor.
“Looks like it’s time to begin pushing. This part is the hard part. It should only take 10-15 minutes at most.” I looked up from between my patients legs. “Breathe through the contraction, and once it ends, push as hard as you can.”
As I thought, the baby slipped neatly into the world within seven minutes. The record was 4 1/2 minutes. The new dad cut the cord and I cleaned the newborn up and handed him to his mother with a smile. Next step, the placenta. A gentle tug brought it out. A check revealed a beautiful vagina not in any need of stitching. “Everything is beautiful down here. You will experience what feels like a heavy period over the next week or so. I will be back in a bit to put the little one through his paces so to speak. The nurse will come by with the Vitamin K shot.” I smiled and left the room.
Now to my office to gather the necessary documents. I always give new parents some time alone with their new baby. My next step is to record the birth, fill out the birth certificate, and run the well baby tests and record the results. This was also so I can record potential for various powers. Just showing potential doesn’t mean one will develop that power.
I stepped into my office, and froze. My office chair turned. I sighed. “Hello, Lance.”
The Champion stood. “Hello, Doctor.”
“It’s Dr. Ketchum now. Why are you here? You defeated me. You exiled me. The region is yours to rule.”
“Endgame.”
My blood ran cold. I was thankful I had stopped to use the bathroom first before coming to my office. Otherwise I would be wetting myself. I swallowed.
“That’s your problem now!” I strangled out the words. “I’m done with that life! You took my powers when you exiled me!”
“I cannot face Him alone, Doctor.”
“I’m not fighting alongside you!”
“Not even to have your powers back?”
Errr!
“As much as I would love to have my powers back, my answer is still no. Besides, I have patients to see.”
“Not even for your home?”
Errr!
The Champion knew which buttons to push. He knew I would not stand aside for my village. “…Fine. Your next target should be Steven. He specializes in defense. Cynthia too, with her healing power. She does have a decent defense. Leon is a must. His attack stat rivals Red. Red would be our best bet with his insanely high attack and defense.”
“I agree. My concern is Steven’s low speed.”
“For speed, May I suggest Alder?”
“Didn’t he break both of his legs recently?”
“Yes. Yes he did. I had to surgically repair both legs. Forget Alder.”
“Here.”
I felt a familiar rush. My power. Dang it felt so good! The Champion had placed his faith in me. This time I intended to be on his side.
“Gather the team. We’ll meet here in my office. Three days.” Lance nodded as he stood. “Wait. Am I leading, here?”
“You know Endgame, so it’s best we follow you.” Lance headed for the door.
I gathered up the papers I needed as I nodded. The Champion was right. I had created and built Endgame myself. I was tempted to turn it on them. With the strongest gone, the world would be mine. So tempting.
No. I will not. I can’t. I can never do that to the Champion. I will help disable Endgame. I will not turn it on them.
So. Tempting. | 2021-11-23T00:46:32 | 2021-11-22T23:13:59 | 61 | 21 |
[WP] In a world full of supervillains you are the most powerful superhero ever to exist, able to defeat every villain and bring peace to the world. Problem is, you lose your powers against anyone who thinks you’re a hero. To protect people, you have to make them all believe you’re another villain | It’s a very simple power, the one that has saved the world.
To be clear, child, I could have made a different one. I still can. Simply scrap the schematics in my mind, recycle the remains and use the pieces to make a whole new puzzle. It’s what I did every day, back when I wore the cape and cowl instead of a crown. A new power for every day, so I could learn my limits, stay relevant and unpredictable in the arms race of superheroics.
But I’ve held this little number for almost a decade now, and look at the wonders it’s done.
The League of Hope has never been bigger. When I was a member, that faux-international organisation would close over the lives of its heroes like an iron fist. It’s thanks to me that the American Government handed it off to the UN. And with that latest amendment to the Parahuman Rights Act, they might have finally struck the balance between having the heroes accountable and respecting their humanity. Isn’t it a wonder, that the UN even has the clout to do that?
I bet they wouldn’t if I hadn’t snapped Eurasia in half. Europe and Asia really are seperate continents thanks to me.
Half the villains, the greedy half, are corporate owned. Advertising gimmicks with laser vision or illusion creation strapped on. Caricatures of monsters and madmen, made to lose to the heroes, market a product and keep civilians occupied. Bread and circuses, same as it ever was.
The other half, the cruel half, are dead. By their own hands, if not mine. I hunted them as I forsook the title of hero, then let their coalitions of necessity come after me and die or self-destruct trying. New ones are crushed under the weight of the League, or surreptitiously snuffed by myself.
Humanity and Parahumanity are united now, child. If not out of love for each other, then out of hate for me.
I have hurt them all a thousand ways. Taken their children and leaders, felled their cities and monuments, tortured and maimed their paragons.
It hurts me to do it. I have not forgotten why I became a hero. But I have not forgotten why I have become a monster either.
We need an enemy, child. Humans and our many derivatives. At our core, we are designed to survive, to outlast. If there is nothing to endure then we set our own fires just to put them out. Give that need to a parahuman, and it is cities that burn, nations.
We hate that which burns us. But if we are never burned, we forget that fire is pain. So we burn each other. Hate each other.
How can a world like that be saved?
Simply.
The more hated I am, the more unstoppable I am. The faster, the stronger, the smarter I am.
And everyone hates me, child. |
Define hero. I'll give you a minute. You done? Okay. Whatever you just said, that's not what I am. You think I'm someone who helps others because it's the right thing to do? Guess again. You think I'm well-liked? Nope. You think I'm a selfish jerk who just happens to do the right thing because it suits him? Well, you'd be right on the first part, and the end, but not the middle. I never do the right thing, you hear? I just do whatever I want. After all, I can, so why not?
Oh? You're someone on the wrong end of the law, huh? Your hero would be someone who does whatever they want because they can? Well guess what, kid. That's not me either. Sure, I pretend that I have everything put together, but it's all a lie. Inside this suit is a broken man, full of nothing but misery. What do you mean you admire my lying skills? There are no skills here. Only the jagged edges of pain that most people are too blind to see. Literary skills? What, no, I read that in a book once. Which I proceeded to flush down the toilet. Because I'm a wimp who most certainly does not manage daily life admirably despite having a ton of problems, thank you very much, but rather someone who runs away from his problems. By punching them. Or flushing them down the toilet. Look, kid. I'm no hero. I'm not even a villain's hero. I'm nobody. Just someone who happens to be very good at punching things, and very lucky when it comes to the things I have to punch.
*Groan* Look, kid. If you want to idolize some great puncher, go look up Mr. Super Fantastic Man. He's much better than I am. My luck!? Luck doesn't make someone a hero, ok? And anyway, my luck has quite clearly run out, because you won't quit bugging me! Now get out of here! | 2020-01-29T22:03:44 | 2020-01-29T20:28:31 | 504 | 65 |
[WP] A selkie is stunned when, against common sense, a stranger who stumbled upon her skin gave it back without complaint. | I hobbled down the beach, my walking cane constantly sinking into the soft sand and forcing me to walk at an uncomfortable angle. But I’d choose this over sitting idly in my room leaving my leg muscles to wither away. The doc said that if I went on daily walks I might avoid a wheelchair for a few decades. My leg aches but it is as they say, never skip leg day.
As I enjoyed the sea air I saw a figure, probably a woman, sunbathe by the cliff. I took a detour under the cliff so as not to disturb her. As I walked I saw a patch of fur stick out of some seaweed by the surf. Driven by curiosity I hobbled to it and uncovered a seal skin. It was beautiful and soft, I could not understand why anyone would hide such a thing here and risk it being destroyed by exposure.
I heard the clattering of rocks behind me as someone approached from behind me. I turned and saw a very beautiful and very naked woman. Her hair was the same dark brown with lighter brown splotches as the seal skin; she looked terrified at the seal skin in my hands. I then remembered the stories told by the old fishermen. I had a Selkie's skin, and life, in my hands.
I had always wanted a wife, devoted and perhaps even a little dependent on me. Especially now that I knew I would not be able to take care of myself later in life, and here I held the key to that. A beautiful wife and companion. I am ashamed to admit that I was tempted to keep the skin. But I reminded myself that such devotion and loyalty should be given freely, not taken. Before the devil on my shoulder could tempt me further I wrapped the seal skin together and tossed it to her.
Her beautiful facial expression turned from terrified sorrow to disbelief and confusion.
“I am no thief,” I said. Then I turned and continued my walk.
As I went to bed that night I wondered if I had done the right thing. Having a Selkie wife was a nice fantasy, but a fantasy it should and would remain. When I fell asleep I dreamt of a herd of seals swimming in the ocean, playing and chasing each other.
When I woke up that morning my cane had rolled from my bed, I grit my teeth and prepared to put weight on my bad leg to reach my cane. But the pain never came, as I supported myself with both legs I felt not the slightest discomfort. I checked my bad leg, the scars were still there but they did not ache any more.
At that point I noticed my room smelled of the ocean and perhaps the slight musk of seal. | "Ma'am?" the man looked down towards my human form, and towards the skin he held in his hand, and back to me. "I think you dropped this." he pointed towards the skin.
"Oh!" she looked behind her to the rock where she'd left her skin. It was gone. "Um..." she questioned the man. "Did you happen to take this from that rock?"
The man frowned, and looked back towards the dock. "My son has apparently hasn't been reading his local legends." A boy was standing by the edge of the dock and the street, his arms crossed, trying to look both as huffy and as small as possible.
I smiled, and waved at the boy. He didn't respond. I graciously took the skin, and looked up to the man. "Thank you, sir. Is there anything I can do to thank you?" I smiled.
"Well, you've taught my son a lesson, so you've done enough for us already." he laughed. "Just wanted to make sure you could get back safely."
I was thinking about just giving the man a thank you, putting on my skin again, and leaving, but there was something about this man that struck me as odd. He looked exhausted, he was still in office clothes despite it being so late. He had bags under his eyes. If anything, he looked...
Well, he looked *sad*.
Sad that his son had committed a crime. Sad that he was working so late. Sad that, if the fact that it was just him and his son didn't say enough, the mother likely wasn't there.
"Sir, are you alright."
A sigh, and the man smiled. "Yeah. I'm fine. Thanks."
The man walked back to his son, gave him a hug, and they walked back on home.
I slipped my skin back on, slipped into the water, and joined my friends who were already heading back home themselves. | 2022-10-26T03:01:50 | 2022-10-25T18:45:12 | 223 | 100 |
[WP] You're an Evil Overlord who has ruled over you dominion for ages. Your secret? Social services are well funded, orphanages are places of love, the pediatric wings in hospitals are state of the art. Thanks to this no child has the tragic backstory necessary to become the hero that defeats you. | The upside of being evil, is that one's instincts are immune to surprise. After all, the world loves its heroes; and a good hero can come from anywhere.
As I sit on my throne, my eyes are fixed firmly upon the congregation of 30-odd men and women that have barged into the room. Dressed in full plate armour, they carry swords, shields, axes and maces of every imaginable size. It becomes evident from the blood on their weapons that the outer palace guard, made up of legions of my most battle-hardened veterans, have been slain.
"This is where it ends," says a man in shining golden breastplate, his sword glinting with bloodlust in his hands. "There's no one left to save you."
I smile, and clap my hands together.
The door behind the throne bursts open. Out of it emerges my last line of defence; a defence mechanism unknown to anyone except me. The assassins gape in horror as a crowd of nearly 300 makes a barricade between them and myself.
"Do you know what is the greatest, most compelling power in this universe?" I ask, smirking in the midst of their disbelief. "These are my soldiers. The children that time forgot; the ones that were abandoned and left to rot. The birds with broken wings left on the ground as an offering for mercy. Who better than them to understand the fine margins between life and death?"
I rise from my throne and smile even wider. "If you wish to kill me, you will have to plough your way through hundreds of innocent children- beggars, orphans and even ones with special needs. If you do so, the world will hear of your deeds. And then you will become bigger tyrants than I could ever be. The realm will never forgive you."
My laugh rings out clear and defiant through the stunned masses. "Do you know the greatest, most compelling power in the universe?" I ask again, pausing for effect.
*Gratitude,* I sneer.
r/whiteshadowthebook | The year is 2100, and you could say I've successfully implemented my plan. The entire city is feeling the Bern. My initial takeover failed, but I was able to convince those idiots to elect me as their leader eventually. Little did they realize I was the true evil all along.
Back in 1980, when I began hatching my plan for world domination, I heard about little Timmy. It was his destiny to break through the darkness using his super polio and defeat me with excrutchibur. He was only able to develop this super polio because of his McCarthy ancestry. I knew, unlike most villians, that I needed to act quickly.
I immediately turned my campaign around and focused on healthcare. After all if I could just stop those anti-vaxers I could have my utopia. I succeeded in the assassination of Jenny McCarthy in 2024 ensuring that Timmy would never enter the world.
I look out my balcony at the socialistic utopia I've created and sip my coffee. I am free to provide the youth of the nation with education, and no one can stop me! | 2019-05-27T06:14:09 | 2019-05-27T06:07:52 | 374 | 27 |
[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. | *I need to possess someone before noon or else Satan will get mad. Last time I tried I got punched so hard that I don't think I could have flown for three days straight!* "Oh, that's it!," Oglathor said out loud. "Oglathor, did you figure out how to solve our financial crisis and beat our competitors?" said his boss. "N-no sir, I-I was just thinking out loud." replied Oglathor. "Ok" said his boss, "and remember guys, if you don't possess someone before noon and reek havoc on something He has created, you will be executed by death from puppy licks. Meeting dismissed" *Oh Satan, oh Satan. I know Satan will get mad, but, I haven't broken the five codes of Hellfire, Chaos, and of "How to possess" -by Iggy Azela* (she is the all knowing witch-demon working in a type of music that possess all.) Before leaving on the highway of hell, Oglathor got a darkblaze hot dog, his favorite past time snack since '88.
*Oh my Satan, who is that? Is she all alone and can she defend herself? Only way to find out* -Oglathor starts singing Fancy by Iggy to attempt and possess her body to destroy the human world. *Ew, this human thing is different. I feel stressed and not able to communicate. And why can't a fly? Oh well* Feeling the urge to walk home from school, Oglathor and his new body are ready to play the long-con.
"Mommy, I'm home" Oglathor said instinctively. "Darling, how are you feeling?" asked her mother. "Not so well," Oglathor was telling the truth, "I am going to lay down." Offering her help, the mother told her to yell at her if Oglathor needed something. Why would Oglathor yell?
Oglathor fell into a deep sleep but, upon waking up, he found is white tights to be full with blood. *Ah-hah. This is what I have been waiting for. The blood of the child to ruin the world, no one would have thou-* Oglathor's thought was interrupted by a cramp so twisted that he thought this was the force to end them all. "Mommy," Oglathor needed her help desperately "what's happening?" The mother came running in. "Sweety, you just had your period!" | 2016-03-30T11:03:45 | 2016-03-30T07:53:58 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] You are a nice person, but your superpower is that you instinctively know exactly what to say to someone to crush them. You're very effective in throwing supervillains off their game, but your fellow heroes always feel really uncomfortable watching you work. | "Mary was right about you." I don't know why I said it. Maybe it was courage or some kind of fucked up bravado, or a cowardly plee in a desperate attempt to save my own skin. I had stood at the front of the crowd, the death ray aimed between my eyes and the urge came from somewhere deep inside me and I blurted it out.
Doktor Karnage stopped his cackling immediately and looked out from behind his death ray. His face was concealed behind goggles, but his expression was still readable in every line visible on his face. "Vut?" he asked as the death ray slowly powered down.
I hadn't even really processed what I'd said and stammered for a moment. Almost a moment too long, but the urge came up in me again. "I said Mary was right about you. She was always right about you and everything you do to prove her wrong just makes her more right and nothing you could ever do or say can ever take back what you did."
He stopped and stared at me for a moment before his mouth turned to a snarl. He wrenched the lever on the death ray and what had been a calm sigh turned to an erratic shriek." How dare you!" Doktor Karnage shouted." I vill make you pay for those insolent vords!"
In a moment of panic I tried to apologize but it came out all wrong. What was supposed to be "I'm sorry please don't disintegrate me" instead turned to "go ahead and do it. Killing me won't make me wrong. It won't bring her back to you. Do it. Do it and prove to the whole world that Mary was right about you from the start!" I realized I was shouting at the same time I realized I was now pressing my face against the beam emitter.
Nothing happened.
I waited, my eyes squeezed shut. I tried to find more words to buy more time but there just weren't any more." I..." the Doktor said. That was all he said. Without another word he deactivated the death ray, picked it up and departed through the Vormhole device. The silence after he departed was profound.
Later, people would ask me who Mary was, and what she had been right about. I didn't know. I never found out, and the Doktor never reared his head again.
So that was my origin story. No radioactive chemicals or supernatural forces. Just some guy who happened to be on a white house tour and said a thing.
---------
"That's all I am. Just a guy who said a thing." My eyes were unfocused as I stared out the window and saw an indistinct flock of birds against an indistinct cloud against a blue sky. "That's all I am, doc. Just a guy."
Doctor Carol, my shrink, stopped and considered what I'd said. She mulled her thoughts for a moment before she spoke. "It seems to me that the difference between a hero and a villain is that a hero knows when to not use their abilities. It isn't who you destroy with a sentence, it's who you don't that matters."
"I'm not a hero, doc. I'm just a guy." I knew the words well enough. I could hardly stop myself from saying them.
"I want you to focus on who you decide not to destroy." She said, clicking her pen shut. "And I think the best person you could start with is yourself. Stop telling yourself you're just some guy."
"But I'm..." maybe she was right. I never finished that sentence. It was time to stop destroying myself. | Shit. She couldn't believe it. Which one of her fellow heroes had written it? Her stomach sank. Didn't they understand? She was born with the ability, and had trained through trials and sufferings that many of them could not imagine, no matter how tragic their backstory. The very same power that gave her her abilities to heal, comfort, nurture, were the very ones that gave her the ability to cut the coldest of hearts, those reptilian brained foes who were fluent in the most depraved of psychological warfare, to the core. Her wit, her writ, her wretched tongue could be the deadliest of blades. But oh, the amount of compassion and care it required to wield her weapon.
Her fellow heroes were predominantly male. The gifts they developed, and strengthened, were usually different from hers. Psychic warriors were rarer than even female heroes, and that was saying something. The female lineages had been demonized, and hunted nearly to extinction, although they were now quietly on the rise. Paladins were ALWAYS male, as they required both the gifts of the psychic warrior, and the Herculean one. To have a female Paladin, and one who had descended from Bards, Healers, and Seers to boot? Well, such a thing was never expected. It was a lot for the male heroes to adjust to, she supposed. After all, many of them had descended from Hercules himself, from some forgotten Berserker, from Arthur. She was something rare, and they either feared her, wished to posses and control her, or simply paid her little regard.
She wasn't offended by this. Not really. She was more saddened than anything, although she new it was better this way. Being perceived in such light would protect her, for she didn't want anyone to know the truth; she was a Duality. The very few Dualities that had existed were either ostracized like Lilith and the Morrigan, or purified like Freya and Persephone. Only a fellow Duality could see and understand one as a whole....but such things no longer existed. She was alone in this Realm, and that was that.
She blinked at the words on the screen before her, read them again. Her interest was peaked, and like the Feline that is her other form, she regarded the seemingly harmless, and perhaps concerned?, post before her with curiosity. Her eyes narrowed. Who *are* you, she wondered. She inhaled, closing her eyes, zeroing in on the energy imprint left tangled in the InterWeb. Connection engaged, she began to write her reply....
Edit: typos | 2020-02-25T15:08:26 | 2020-02-25T12:17:21 | 124 | 66 |
[WP] You are an elite member of the royal guard. You have recently been fired from your position because of the new king. Little does he know, there was a reason why the previous king kept you in his service for so long.
Edit: Holy crap this blew up! Thank you all! | Waves crashed as a pale individual gazed into the ocean, his face scrunched as he pondered. "Perhaps I should have taken the risk of documenting his father's actions regarding construction in this settlement, but there was no guarantee he would believe the truth before him." He sighed, walking away from the bustle of the port along the coast as he returned to a secluded hut near a river that kissed the sea.
"I'll have to report this to the others." He concluded as he began to assess the materials on his desk. He took a leaf of papyrus and began crafting his script.
To the untrained eye the code would appear to be a greeting followed by request for a recommendation of employment to an individual stationed in Egypt, but behind the words lay a message.
As he wrote he sighed in frustration. "The timing of the Resistance was unfortunate, but the whims of human violence can't be helped." The son of the emperor had been stationed across the sea to take action against those that resisted the Empire, but the lack of contact between the son and the former guard prevented him from trickling information to him about his work; It would be difficult to drop bricks of information and expect a man to carry that weight from the start.
His lips curled as he wrote a document of lies, as his post was unmanned and he would prefer to have a full team at his disposal to retake the facility.
When deciphered, key words appeared:
Urgent. Loss of influence at Pompeii, Keter in facility at base of Vesuvius.
"That'll get them moving." He snorted, but he couldn't smile anymore. He couldn't help but worry over the current situation. The longer the facility was out of their control the more likely human intervention would result in disaster.
"I just hope they get here in time." | The old king and I were pretty close friends. I introduced him to most of the playmates within his harem. Comprised of but not limited to Vicky Vallencourt & Suzy Crabgrass. Some nights, we’d play uno together. He knew I would let him win and for me? Honestly. I liked it. He could see how I liked it so... no longer was I there to please his majesty, I was there for me. Someone who had the keys not to the Royal palace, but to his own character. Had the king been not of royal blood he would of admired this in me- instead I was merely found amusing which never quite sat well with me. And now? I think that may be all I’ll ever have been. For, there’s nothing to be of me now. Not without him. | 2021-02-28T04:46:41 | 2021-02-28T01:37:57 | 28 | 14 |
[WP] 37. That is how many times you have died of unnatural causes. Every time you do, you get reset to the age of 5, retaining all of your past memories. You think that this is finally the time you get to move on with life. | It was a beautiful day to celebrate a life well-lived. I stretched out under the shade of a palm tree, sipped a mojito, and told my wife of forty-years I loved her. Then, I felt an impact at the top of my head. The world turned a familiar shade of white, as if the contrast had been amped up on a TV-screen. *No! Not again!* I tried speaking, but words wouldn’t form. *No, no, no!* The last thing I saw was a bloodied coconut nestled in the sand beside my face.
Another familiar feeling followed, like I’d just fallen and been jolted awake. I opened my eyes and screamed. I was back in my childhood home, fifty-five years ago.
My mother looked up from her book. “Are you okay?”
I ignored her. “Motherfucker!”
“*TOMMY!*” She was now standing, mad and confused. “What did you just say?!”
I stomped off to my room, threw myself onto the bed, and screamed into the pillow.
I wouldn’t have been so crushed if I hadn’t truly thought I’d broken the loop this time. I had lived my longest life yet and accomplished everything I had set out to do. I became a billionaire, funded research which reversed the effects of global warming, and subsequently became president, at which point I initiated a functioning denuclearization program. I had lived the very best life I could. So why was I back here?
I've run out of ideas. I had tried living every conceivable life I could—including various lives as a devout follower of every major religion, and even a few cults, one of which I started.
I came out of my room and looked my mother dead in the eyes. “Are you guys involved in this?”
She looked concerned. “Tommy, have you been watching late-night television?”
“Cut the shit, mom. Why do I keep dying?”
“Are you okay? Are you having nightmares?”
“I’m *living* a nightmare, woman! Is this all normal to you? You don’t have any *deja vu* or feel like you’ve been here before?”
“Okay that's it, no more television for a while.”
I clenched my tiny toddler fists and screamed to the ceiling. “WHY GOD! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME!”
Almost in answer, the newscaster on TV began speaking. “Up next, a local farmer claims to have seen a UFO in Sutton Park, last night!” My eyes flicked to the screen. I’d heard this broadcast 37 times now, but never paid it much attention. Maybe that was my problem? There must have been a reason why I kept reliving this moment, and maybe this was it. I was desperate for any lead, and maybe this farmer could—”
The TV turned off. I looked around confused. My mother stood there holding the remote. “I said no more TV.”
“Mom!” I yelled. “You don’t understand! I need to see what that farmer says, please!”
“I understand plenty. You need a break from the screen.”
I did the only thing a five-year old could do in that situation. I threw a tantrum. I screamed and kicked and clawed at my mother's legs. It wasn’t any use, and at this point it was probably too late. The broadcast would have been over.
I ran to the kitchen and dug through the cupboard under the sink until I found what I was looking for—a bottle of bleach. I put it to my mouth, and began gulping it down, suppressing the urge to throw up.
“*TOMMY!* STOP!”
It was too late. I felt my little body convulse and my vision fade. My mouth began frothing and the world went white to the sound of my mother’s panicked screams.
Then, that familiar feeling of being jolted awake. I was back in the living room, just moments before. I kept my mouth shut, stared at the screen, ready to hear what this farmer had to say.
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe | I lie on the pavement of Reginald street in oversized clothes stained with blood. The air is cold and the streets are quiet. They have fled -- my killers. I don't blame them. What would you have done if a man you shot disappeared? Of course, I had not disappeared, but the poor killers had no way to know. Are they thorough?
The shirt is soaked in blood, I remove it and throw it away. The pants have already detached from my body due to my shrinkage. The way to do it is simple: first remove the shirt, then use the suit jacket as a onesie, wrap the pants around the torso for warmth, and run like hell.
I run down the pavement. Always run towards the direction your face was at reincarnation. The killers tend to run in the opposite direction.
The blinding light from an oncoming car stops me in my tracks. A lady is behind the wheel. She slows down as she passes me. I feel her roving eyes over me. Lucky, she has stopped.
I make a face that I hope looks like a little puppy's.
"What's the matter boy, are you lost?"
I shuffle in my suit jacket onesie and am about to speak when-
"What's with the clothes?"
"I am hungry."
She eyes me. Looks me up and down. There's wrinkles on her forehead.
"Where do you live?"
"I want food. I am hungry. I am cold."
The lady has a hand on the steering wheel. Her fingers are drumming impatiently.
"Can I just get in? It's so cold outside," I say.
Finally, her face relaxes.
"Get in the backseat. You know how to open a car door, right?"
"Yes."
The leather seat is nice and warm. Nice and warm. The cramp in my leg returns, my neck is stiff. The pain will return as the adrenaline wanes.
"So, where do you live?" She has killed the engine.
Two men. I see them under a streetlamp up ahead. They are walking back -- they are a thorough bunch, lazy but thorough.
"Hello. I'm talking to you. I can't take you to my house, you know."
Step by step they come closer. I know I won't be able to control myself if they pass by the car. Already my right hand is in my jacket's inside pocket, on the snub-nosed revolver. The impulse, the wretched impulse that has made me a target of the underground, what, 37 times now.
I take the gun out and point it at the lady.
"Drive," I growl as menacingly as I can.
Silence. She is stunned -- frozen.
"DRIVE!"
"I don-"
"Drive, or I'll blow your head off!"
I click the hammer back and place my finger on the trigger.
The men are only three or four strides away. The lady starts the car and drives. She drives out of that street while I have my gun pointed at her all the time. She checks on me in the rearview mirror every once in a while.
Lights, I see lights ahead of me. The town awaits. I'll get off at the central market, I'll go to the orphanage. There will be no 38th time. I will die of natural causes, once and for all.
I'm tired. The gun is heavy. My eyelids droop and droop and droop. A momentary nap. A speedbump, my finger misbehaves, the gun fires. I can see blood on the windshield. Out of control, the car is heading straight towards a strip mall. | 2021-05-30T08:50:11 | 2021-05-30T08:05:12 | 363 | 108 |
[WP] Your Italian restaurant is frequented by the mafia, and for some reason they think you're a front for someone powerful. You aren't, but you still like to mess with them. | There's something about angry women under 5'5 that scares the day lights out of men. What ever it was I was glad I had that power on my side. I wasn't Itallian but when the restaurant shut there was an opening in a very good market. I bought the shop and have been sitting pretty for the last three years. I stay in the kitchen, I did my customer service days and I'm not going back. Occasionally one of the young girls who work up front will request my presence when an idiot won't stand down over the goddamn *cannoli.*
The day something went wrong (or right) is something I will never forget. I come from out back Queensland, million acre property, guns were not a rare sight. However I didn't expect someone to pull one on his business partner.
There as shrieking and yelling and I rushed to the counter to see wha was going on.
*What kinda mob boss shit is going on?* I think to my self and picking up a rolling pin I make my way out to the table.
"Is everything alright gentlemen?" I ask. The man holding the gun eyes me and does a double take.
"You..." he whispered before grabbing a bundle of notes and fleeing the premises.
Over the course of the next week hundreds of suited and booted groups dine. All of them suspiciously craning their necks to look in the kitchen.
Another brawl broke out this time, two men scuffling upon a table. With my trusty rolling pin I stalked out.
"Get off the fucking table and outta my restaurant!" They looked up at me and instantly stilled just like the guy before did.
"Terribly sorry ma'm," one muttered before running off with his friend hot on his heels. I sigh, putting my hands on my hips. What a mess.
"Excuse me," a voice says and I turn angrily. The tall man with blond hair flinches at my gaze, *what is up with these people?*
"Is he here?" He hisses with fear on his face.
"Don't waste your breath asking about *him*, I'm the one about to lose my shit. You tell your friends, because you all have to know each other *somehow* that there is no more fighting in my restaurant. You hear me?"
The man goes pale and quickly walks back to his table.
Who ever the hell *he* is, if he's the one bringing these lunatics into my establishment I'm going to hunt him down and shove a baguette up his arse. | ""He needs them," was all I had to say; and I had them. It didn't matter what, it could have been anything, some new shoes, a nice watch. I pressed it too. I started doing selfish things for money. I ran the mob for a bit, and here I am, by my own free will--which feels a lot less free when your other option is instant death. I kind of want to live so here I am, ask your questions."
"***Why did they choose you?"***
"Why did I choose you? I don't know. It was an accident of chance. I have never had and never will have, especially after this, will never and have never and all the "nevers", will ever ever have any ties with the mob. Write that down and put it on my freakin' tomb stone. I got all of them what they wanted. I ran them like well oiled machine. Oh yeah, yeah, so I didn't like something in the news? Maybe I'd have Joey go see someone about it, uncle joey, you know him, big guy. You can get these people to do anything if they think they will get something out of it. All they wanted was the best seat in the house. I designed it like that. It was literally the best seat--there was absolutely no other seat like it in the restaurant. It looked almost like a throne but I thought that would be too on the nose. The spotlight was a great idea, though. They notice you, under that spotlight, that glorious spotlight that meant you had the bosses' favor that week, or evening, because you brought his favorite spicy chips on your way back from the gym." | 2020-10-12T10:14:47 | 2020-10-12T09:43:21 | 31 | 16 |
[WP] A demon that writes messages on your mirror with blood but they’re useful messages. Like “remember you have yoga at 6 tonight”
stolen from Meladoodle on Tumblr. | You sit, racking your brain for what you know you won't be able to remember. But you have to try. You've learned to take these premonitions seriously. Tears begin to stream down your face, as you know what comes next. You walk to the bathroom, flipping the light switch by the door.
He's standing on the other side of the mirror , with his toothy, snaggly grin. You both know what's next.
"Ok fine! What did I forget this time?"
He nods back to you, his grin widening ever so slightly. The knot in your stomach grows as you see him walk out of your sight.
A few long moments later, he returns, dragging a disheveled, middle aged man into view by the hair, kicking and screaming.
"Please just make it quick" you beg.
He grins, and in one snap motion, reaches down and rips the index finger off of the poor damned soul. The man screams in agony as your oldest friend begins writing across the mirror from the other side with the bloodied finger.
"Sure is hot out."
You begin to feel the blood boil in anger at his stupid cryptic message.
"STOP WASTING MY TIME AND TELL ME WHA-- BEN!!!"
You run in terror to the suburban in the front drive. You just got back from getting groceries; couldn't have been more than 20 minutes. You fling the door open- he's sitting in the car seat, screaming, scared, but ultimately ok.
You run to the bathroom and put him in the sink, running water over him to cool him off. Your friend begins knocking on the mirror- you try not to pay attention to what he's doing to the man. Focus on Ben. Ignore the screams. Ignore the blood and meat hitting the mirror from the other side. Stop Fucking crying, you're scaring your son.
Several hours have passed. Ben is sound asleep in the crib, softly cooing.
Exhausted, you walk back into the bathroom, and flip the light switch.
"Was that Mr. Walthers?" You ask.
He smiles with pride at his handiwork.
"Just because he was an awful teacher when I was 12 doesn't mean he deserved that."
He reaches down and grabs the finger, sitting on the countertop. He briefly chews the bloodied end, as if pulling the cap off of a sharpie. He pushes it to the mirror, and writes in beautiful cursive:
"You're welcome. Now go be with your son."
| (A/N: Slight nod to wild wild west)
Some people set reminders on their cell phones. Others write down points and ideas in a little black notebook that they carry around. Some people have secretaries to help them organise their lives. And others have nagging spouses, parents and/or roommates.
Linda was looking at me like I belonged in a psych ward.
"No, really. It's cool!! He never misbehaves. I don't have to spend time training him. He's an excellent book keeper. Hasn't missed an appointment in the last 5 years."
Linda's mouth tried to close itself in an effort to say something, or produce anything that resembled a sound, but it was a strain she was unable to overcome.
"Actually, do you see that over there?" I said, motioning with my thumb to the series of awards that I had been winning from the workplace for the last 5 (five) years, which I had proudly displayed on my Linkedin page.
"I couldn't have done it, without BMG here."
Linda still didn't say anything, but her eyebrows betrayed her surprise. "Bloodbath McGrath" I explained. "It was a fitting name." Linda replied, finally managing to close her mouth and nod in agreement. I smiled and offered her a glass of champagne from the kitchen.
"So how does it know what you need?" she asked, still trying to evaluate if this was a joke or not, as I poured out the sparkling wine into a tall,clean flute.
"I'm not really sure." I said trying to think back. It was so long ago that I hardly remembered how I got along before BMG was around. "I kind of assume it just reads my mind"
"Oh" said Linda. "Hmmm...."
To be continued.... | 2016-08-07T22:48:56 | 2016-08-07T20:26:45 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] In a world where intelligent and overly educated people are being executed, you fell on love with someone you believe to be as intelligent as you are. The only way to find out is to fill conversations with hidden subtext that a normal person would miss. | We've lost most of our senses. We can't stare too long. We can't say smart things. We've lost most of our technology. We can't wear glasses for fear of looking smart. We are only allowed access to a heavily monitored 'internet' that's a far cry from it's old decentralized self.
For those of us that remember, it's a global version of the Cambodian genocide from the 1970's. The leaders fear a rebellion of the people and keep their tight hold on the world by executing the people who even have a whiff of smartness about them. They started by executing the leaders of the secret mass surveillance programs once the software was sophisticated enough. Technically that was legal, since the leaders of that mass surveillance program didn't 'exist' and had been abusing their power of illegal information gathering for nearly seven decades.
I'm the leader of the resistance, but we are failing fast. The cruel people we now have as leaders have developed software that project an infants IQ from birth. Most don't make it out of the hospital. The mothers are killed too, since they've proven they are capable of carrying a high IQ baby to term.
I also met a girl. Some nagging feeling in my gut tells me that she's hiding it too. Smarts that is. Her eyes focus too sharply, too intelligently. I keep wracking my brains on how to communicate, but I'm growing tired. Part of me doesn't even care anymore. We are losing a battle we cannot possibly win. Who would it hurt to just settle down with a gorgeous girl and live out my life in ignorance of the terrible pain all around me? Could I even do it without feeling like a cut up dirt bag?
I absently started typing on her thigh, just like I do on my old QWERTY keyboard where my Tor relay is setup. She grows deathly still and slowly turns towards me, putting her hand on my thigh as well. Slowly her fingers type out a sentence that leaps into my mind like a whip:
"My name is actually Sam. My people have been hibernating in hopes that your technology would advance, but we waited too long and can't communicate with our old contacts. We want to bring down the regime, can you help?"
| I's smart. I knows I's smart. I's can tells by the ways I thunks and the ways I processees that info. I didn't get no degree. By the time I hits the second years of End school, they was already slittin the Doctorates. But I's knews there was none like me.
Cept her.
I knews it from the way she looked at me before we spoke. Its a milasecon when you sees one like yous. Jus' like wid her. Was only a second before I had finished my introductions that I saws it. She thunks. I sees it in her eye. She thots about me. When I is speakin to the others there's no pause, where you thinks about what the other person has said. Yous supposed to speaks outs compulsions, whatcha feels. Right? She done none that. She spokes after a pause. She thots. So we gots talkin, not the normal ways of talkins we spokes in subtexts that others wouldna gets. Forgots where we was goin. Accidentally slipped and fell on my dawg. Stupid dawg. Always gets between yoz legs. He's stupid, but I's loves him.
Thats why I calls him Love.
EDIT: If yous doesn' gets it, checks the titels of the thred | 2015-08-04T11:15:07 | 2015-08-04T11:03:11 | 483 | 82 |
[WP] While walking, you notice everyone recoiling from a young woman. you speak to her to find out why. through her surprise, she explains she is death and everyone else sees a person based on how they feel about the concept of death. You've never seen a more beautiful or inviting person.
Please feel free to finesse the topic, genders, or concept to accommodate your own personal preferences or circumstances. | I paused when I saw her.
She wore a white dress, with black hair that draped past her shoulders, and dark painted lips that curled into the most magnificent smile.
Yet everyone that walked past, seemed to take two steps away from her.
The girl noticed the person in front of me halt, turn around, and run back the way they came. "Very discreet. . ." she muttered to herself.
I caught the runner's eye's as they darted past and the look was that of pure horror.
"What was that about?" I asked the girl.
She was taken aback by my abruptness. "I'm Death, everybody knows that. That's why they're all running away."
"Death?" I said,"Your parents actually named you that?"
"No, I'm the real thing. The Reaper, thief of time, Grim as you formally label me." She picked up a flower and let it wilt between her fingers to prove her point.
"Oh." Was all I could manage.
Death sighed and then continued down the walkway.
When she was a few steps over, I gathered my wits. "Hey, wait up. I'd like to find out more about this whole death thing."
"You aren't afraid?"
"Nope."
And with that, we found ourselves at the nearest Mcafe with a coffee to keep warm.
The people one table over picked up their stuff and shuffled three tables away. I frowned as they shot dirty looks our way, well more specifically at *her*.
"I hate people," Death said.
I smiled. "I can't imagine why."
"Well, it's because they treat me so *great* and all. . ."
We both chuckled.
I continued, "You're actually pretty sweet, not that I didn't think that at first glance. I will admit that the whole wedding dress thing was a bit of a surprise."
"My appearance changes for each person. What you see and what that family over there does, are completely different."
Well, that made sense, because if they saw what I did they'd probably change their mind.
"So, I'm wearing a wedding dress, am I?"
I chuckled. "Did I say that?"
Death smiled and took a sip from her cup. "When I look into the mirror I see a dark cloud, it's all evil, complete and utter malice. And if I stare long enough, I see a girl, one that I don't like very much."
I could tell she was sharing something personal, so I decided to tread carefully.
"It's tough, especially when we have to face our shadows," I muttered.
She nodded and stared into her coffee with an absent mind.
"You know I didn't always like myself much, especially not in the beginning," I said, remembering the torment I used to put myself through for not being able to do better with my creations. "I've created some pretty big problems, far beyond my control."
"How'd you get through it?" Death asked.
"I guess you've just gotta find someone that can help you find the good in you. And take the leap when that moment comes."
She had her hand on the table. I slid my fingers into hers and for a moment we locked eyes in a complete still silence.
"I don't even know your name," she whispered.
I thought I'd already told her. "I'm Life."
----
/r/F0xdiary | 'You're just too good to be true... can't take my eyes off of you...'
The famous Frankie Valli song played over and over in my head as I stood enchanted by this magnificent woman. I looked around to see if others had noticed her as well, and was shocked to see the reactions.
One man stopped in his tracks like a deer in the headlights, with a look of speechless terror in his eyes. Another woman took one glance and began to cry hysterically. And one old man looked at her and began to nod his head with a sad pitiful expression of submission.
It didn't make sense, how could no one be acknowledging the beauty of this woman? Did she have some terrible body odour? An ugly voice? A terrible scar that I couldn't see from where I stood? I had to know, so I approached her slowly, and when I got to within 10 feet we locked eyes.
Her eyes were a gorgeous green colour that I had never seen before, and when I smiled, she revealed a smile more perfect than any other. Tongue tied, I let out a barely audible "Hi" and stood captivated for her response. She seemed almost caught off guard that someone actually wanted to converse, and responded with a pleasant "Hello there Adam." This took me by surprise, how did she know my name?
"Don't be alarmed Adam, I try to learn the names of all of Earth's souls, it's the least I could do for when we eventually meet." I raised an eyebrow and had a look of confusion on my face as I inspected her face for clues of sarcasm.
"What I'm trying to say is... I am death Adam, and every soul must eventually meet me. And as you can probably imagine, death is not a pretty sight for most people."
My eyebrow lowered, and along with it my jaw, as shock took the place of confusion. I let out a mumbled response, "B-b-but... you look so beautiful..." She smiled, seeming flattered by what I mumbled and explained, "That's because you are not like most people Adam, you are a kind and pure man, living for a life beyond this one."
I was flattered to hear this, but a little taken aback, was I about to die? I did not fear death, but I was not yet ready to die.
She seemed to sense my unease, and quickly clarified, "Don't worry, it is not yet your time. But when you do see me again, make sure to smile..." | 2016-10-01T23:26:44 | 2016-10-01T21:35:15 | 135 | 16 |
[WP] A few teenagers get superpowers, but they are opposite to their personality (like the school bully can heal, sailor's daughter is pyrokinetic) | "Is anyone home?"
"It looks like only the mother is in the home, we didn't see any sign of him." replied an officer.
The detective sighed, he had been hoping for a quick and simple arrest.
"Let's talk with the mother then."
At that, the group of assembled officers started towards the house, several disappearing around each side of the house to keep an eye on the rear. The detective and the first officer stepped onto the porch and knocked on the door. After a short moment, an older woman opened the door.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"Mrs. Finch?" The detective pulled his ID from his coat pocket and showed it to her. "We are with the county police."
Mrs. Finch looked at the ID a moment.
"Was... was there an accident?" she asked in a shaky voice.
"No Mrs. Finch. There wasn't an accident, we simply need to speak with your son. Do you know where he is?"
"He's at work. Is he in trouble? Did he do something?"
"Where does he work?"
"He works at the hardware store. Is he in trouble?"
The officer stepped off the porch and began speaking into his radio relaying the information.
"Mrs. Finch, your son was seen reviving a car crash victim this morning."
"I don't understand, isn't that a good thing?"
"I don't mean he performed CPR or first aid. The victim had been declared dead by the paramedics. Your son brought him back to life."
"But, he's just a kid. He couldn't..." her voice was filled with fear as it trailed off.
"You understand then? Revival is a very rare power. It's only ever been documented in s-"
Mrs. Finch cut him off. "Serial killers... It means he is a serial killer." | The day I turned twelve everything changed, I didn't see it at first, but when I did... Everything changed. I was so wrapped up in my own little world, consumed by the characters in my head. Their stories, the lives I imagined of the people I saw every day - the man doing his shopping, happily attending to his grandchildren; the mother who loved her son and treat him as if he was everything.
I want the best for people. I spent so much time imagining their lives so perfect, a contrast to mine, that when it happened... When my power manifested - I didn't realise. I couldn't grasp it, couldn't comprehend it.
Now I'm in my twenties, I see it. I see all of it, and we know so much about the nature of people's powers now, how they manifest as the polar opposite of what people want to see in the world. It's not just me now, everyone can see it. They can't *not* see it.
*I've ruined so many lives.* And now I'm alone. | 2017-03-24T18:09:44 | 2017-03-24T17:47:11 | 63 | 21 |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | When I wanted to kill myself the only person I told was Alexis. That was in high school, at peak levels of insecurity and torment. I'd be sleeping for 3 hours a day. Not because of insomnia, but because of the nightmares. An overactive imagination that invaded my personal space, and consumed me while asleep. Some times it's the reverberated sound of a voice or snarl, contained in a locked room. Others, a grimacing face shifting in strobed light. There, then gone. There, then gone.
I don't know when specifically, but out of those moments came an impulse for violence. I was fed up. How wonderful it'd be to take a knife and carve out those shadowed faces, to burn these locked rooms down into ash. To become the tormentor, the warden. The nightmares faded as these fantasies erupted. My imagination had fixated on a new passion, a new desire: violence.
But, in the core of my consciousness I didn't *really* want to hurt anyone. The permanence of death pressed against these thoughts, pleading with me. Would it be worth it, satisfying the urge? How long could I hold out? Every day, I was getting closer to damage, real damage. I came to the conclusion: if I don't end my life, I'll end someone else's.
This and more I told to Alexis, expecting disgust and fear. She offered instead love.
For years, control and withstraint became my mantra, built on a foundation of her compassion. It saved me, and when I finally felt whole for the first time 10 years later, we dated. Not a month later, reports of the Contest began. Reports from soldiers, police, criminals, all detailing a similar hallucination, "New Game" superimposed on their victims -- people they killed -- both just and unjustly.
I knew it was serious, but not for the reasons most shared. Everyone seemed intent to focus on the physiological and hallucinogenic aspect. How could all these people share such a similar vision, all across the world? It's a good question, an *academic* question. But all I could think is *how many more people are going to kill because of this*? Memories from my teen years kept flashing to the present. The throbbing intensity to kill. That serotonin rush like cold water on the spine, traveling across the nerves like electricity. Just the memory triggered a grin; that's how powerful it was. But the sobering thought was knowing that some kid, in the place I was, would cross that line. Life seemed less and less like life, and more like a game. And then it happened.
A few drinks after a late concert with Alexis, and than a 2 block walk to my parked car. Normally more vigilant,
the music eased my muscles and the beer lowered my guard. One block down and one to go, the crosswalk flashed green, and like any sane person we started to cross. I heard the engine roaring louder as it approaches, but years of safely crossing streets builds a false sense of security. I waited for the truck engine to slow, to acknowledge the light.
The truck blew past the red, directly into Alexis, and clipping me. Like a broken doll she collapsed onto the asphalt as the truck screeched around the corner, nearly rolled, and powered out of sight.
She sobbed there, squirming, coughing out more blood than words. Alive. And in pain.
I thought about it. There was no making it for her. Not so much as an hour. I could end her pain, right there, in a minute, and save her the agony. She must have saw read the thoughts out of my eyes, cause she shook her head, the *only* deliberate action she could manage.
Behind her, a black truck edged on the corner, it's grill dented and red. I stared it down, waiting for it accelerate, to finish the work, but it didn't. It crawled forward. Why? I shot a look to Alexis. She looked up, past me, without so much of a shutter in her pupils.
When I looked up, the truck had pulled over barely two feet beside us, the windows down.
Behind the wheel the man was all blonde and jackal teeth. They type you see in Vegas pool-side, with a bottle worth a week's pay. My age. He turned to passenger side, saying, "I told you I'd only gotten one! I *saw* it too, nearly crashed. You won't fucking believe it. "
Turning back, he bore his eyes into me. Vibrant, unashamed. He rested his arms off the window. "Hey, man. Don't look at me like that. It's only a game."
A small alarm sounded as the passenger side door opened, that *beep, beep, beep,* silencing when it shut. But by then, I was already on my feet.
The rage overtook the agony of my side, still half-crippled from the hit. The driver shouted at his friend, tried to warn him, but I had already turned swung around the hood of the truck.
The driver's screams got her attention in the wrong way. Her? It didn't matter.
With her head facing the truck, she never saw me round the corner. At full speed I tackled her to the curb. Her head arched back into the concrete, cracking nastily, followed by a rough scrapping sound that tugged at my eyes. A gun. A shiny metal weapon of death.
"MELISSA," Mr. Jackal screamed.
The truck door slammed, this time from the driver-side. I made a dash to the gun, 10 feet away. I grabbed it just as he turned from behind the truck bed.
I tugged the hammer back and dug deep into the trigger. POW.
Jackal staggered. I squeezed the trigger again and again until he collapsed back from the force. I might have kept firing too if my sight didn't go dark.
**NEW PLAYER** flashed in white. I could hear the girl, Melissa, groaning. Rubbing my eyes changed nothing. Blinded by the display, vulnerable, if she got her strength I'd die seeing those words. But I lucked out. The words faded out as the world faded in, a light-green XP bar lingering at the bottom of my vision following me around.
Sirens howled out in the distance. I whipped around expecting a fight, but Melissa was on her knees trying to stop the bleeding on her head. Any fight she mustered earlier, left. I was safe.
But the XP bar, it hung on the edge. That sliver before leveling up. And I wondered, what *did* it mean to level up in this game? How deep did the rabbit hole go? Is this a game you can win?
Her eyes pleaded, *don't*. But she shook her head, and when she did I thought of Alexis. The woman I trusted and loved and loved me in spite of my most sinister qualities, who taught me to overcome them. I thought about her on the ground, shaking her head, pleading *don't*. In my head, she called my name, held me in her arms. Begged me not to, and I listened. But I loved her, not the woman in front of me.
So with the toe of my boot I pulled her chin up and dug my heel into her throat, sending her back onto the concrete. And I unloaded the rest of the bullets into her chest before any ambulance could hope to speed her away.
And most of all, I smiled my own jackal tooth smile when superimposed on the world new words illuminate the darkened street: **LEVEL UP**.
| Human history has told us we kill because of hate, because of differences, that we fire on our kind for peace or some high-minded goal. We've always held each other at gunpoint, whether literal or behind two large maps of the world with blinking lights. Today, we come to know that as peace, but before the words that passed those lips were stalemate. There was no difference between the two back then, but now we've forged one. Out of sheer necessity.
You see, peacetime is only a construct that exists because of war. Peace was a forgotten definition until the night of November eleventh, two-thousand and fifteen. See, that very night, the world seemed to tick over into another dimension, without even realising. Something cosmic happened, is all I can describe it as. The veil was lifted, some would say, the rules were changed. Murderers, told they were spurned forward by some sense of progress, continued. Serials grew larger, populations shrunk.
People became aware of what it meant to kill. What it meant to harvest someone's flesh for your own material gain. It was for some reason, some galactic hiccup that launched a bubble into the quaint stream of time, that all our realisations came at the same time.
I nursed the revolver in my hand, wiping the debris off the badges one by one. They were little pins, clips that the first shot had walked in with, claiming they gave him power. "Goddamnit, Wes, they're just pins," is what my mother had said, and what I said now to the morning breeze. I was still in my own home, a high vantage point in the shape of an upstate apartment. It was just me now, though. I'd collected their things, whatever offerings to the game they had. Each one was different, marking an individual for who they were, they were the modern passports. We called them pins.
Down there in the streets the thugs bashed at each other with upended signposts, shielding themselves with trashlids and broken hubcaps, caved in one side.
I winced as a mailbox came crashing down on a girl's head. Her arms went limp immediately.
I ducked, shuriken shot over me and cracked the window. The breeze greeted me, as did she, "Pins, love." Two words, usually it was one when you met someone new, but this time the gangs were feeling especially nice.
I had to think of something witty, otherwise it was all for naught, "You'll have to pry them off me." Well crap, there goes that opportunity. Screams and shouts from below welcome my fate if I choose to jump. "Oh boy," I swerved and flung the revolver out, finger wrestling the trigger.
She was gone. I stood up, my eyes browsing the wooden panelling along the condo's pillars. A flash of pink, and I fired. Straight from the hip. I'd like to think of myself as a sharpshooter from the old west, but my aim disagreed. "Fuck," I cursed as my flatscreen heaved with a mighty groan and crashed onto the floor. It took my Eastwood movies with it, like a wall of dominoes coming down.
"Nice aim," she said, from somewhere to my left. Another shot, and a kettle blew steam. I'd like to think it was good I was hitting something, at least. A long, drawn out chuckle, with the sound of bubbles somewhere in her throat. "How did you survive this long?"
Oh this was a good opportunity. "Because I know the truth, little girl."
"Little girl?" She brought up her huge pigtails, coloured pink for some odd reason. Then she ducked as a painting on the far wall decided it had had enough with hanging.
"Yes, all this X.P nonsense that's been going around,"
She hefted herself up again, arms somewhat shaking from the adrenalin. "What, that the government made it up? Or is it a-" and ducked, there goes my favourite mug, "biological weapon?" My arm recoiled, my second favourite mug.
"Actually my favourite conspiracy was the one guy who thought we were all in an insane asylum, and the only way free was killing each other."
"Right," a pursed-lipped whackamole, "You do realise that he killed everyone else in his litle cult and got away with a mountain of pins?"
"Yep." No one understood the beauty of that one. "But really, that's not the truth."
"And what is?" she jumped back up, straight into the path of a bullet.
"Finally," I said, lowering my arms as the bullet travelled through her nose. She coughed and screamed for a moment, nothing that wouldn't be masked by the bloody war down below. My aim was true, she was still alive. It was not a fluke. Not at all. "The truth, little girl, is that you just have to believe." I jumped over the kitchen counter, nicking the back of my pants on the sharp corner. Damn, it is hard to find a tailour. Sliding across the marble, I landed right beside her with a thump, like we were two peas in a pod, hiding from the gunmen that had just stormed our inn.
But no, it wasn't that. I pressed the barrel to her forehead, and whispered. "It isn't that we get X.P from killing, pinhead. It's that we've just realised we do." She was grinning, because there were footsteps from the stairwell. She was only a scout, it seemed. It was nice that people could band together in times of trouble. "They're here, aren't they?" She nodded.
All throughout human history, I told myself as the slug entered her frontal lobe, causing her last few words to be a jumble of forgotten tongues, we've killed each other. We told ourselves it was something high-minded, or something important. That we fought for causes, that we fought for something real, no matter how intangible.
I stood up from behind the counter, wearing my secondhand blazer across myself like a poncho. If it was my last stand, I would like to go out in style. The truth, at the end of the day was, we killed everyone for X.P. All the damn time, it shouldn't have taken us this long to realise it.
I aimed straight at the loosened doorframe, hand on the hammer. To those who say that's impossible, human technology and progress has been in leaps and bounds because of the abolition and denial of such horrible things.
But to that, I say, with my pistol in my hand: How did you think we got that far? | 2015-11-11T08:01:58 | 2015-11-11T07:52:38 | 126 | 11 |
[WP] On your 21st birthday, your biggest accomplishment becomes your official title - no matter how trivial. You wait anxiously in line for your village elder, Glenda, Devourer of 53 Chicken Nuggets In A Single Sitting, to assign you your new title. | Glenda was a grim looking lady. She was a slow starter and didn't have much purpose in her younger years, but her naming ceremony lit a fire under her. She simply went by Glenda the Destroyer now.
I had a few ideas what my name might be. Maybe I'll be Matthew the Unmuggable for that time I fought off two muggers in Central Park. I could be called Matt, the Master of Mountains for that summer I climbed all the 14,000+ peaks in the Rockies with my brothers.
My father, Sweet Pete, Destroyer of Ladies and Breaker of Hearts stood behind me, hand on my shoulder, waiting for my name to be declared. By his naming ceremony he had seduced over 50 women. My mother, Maria, Pete's Keeper, tamed my father and married him before she turned 21.
Glenda approached me. She wore the battle scars on her face like a badge of courage. She was an imposing woman, standing well over 6 feet tall and built like a warrior. She stopped before me, and my heart nearly stopped with it.
She reached her hand out to me and closed her eyes. The center jewel in her tiara began to glow a deep purple.
She put her thumb to my brow.
I could feel her mind searching mine. Her presence loomed large.
"You shall be Matthew, Father of the Chosen One."
My father was bewildered. My mother was furious. They accused me of hiding their grandchild from them. I swore I wasn't a father.
I could feel a vibration in my pocket. It was my girlfriend.
"I'm late. We need to talk. Call me." | The prick in front of me seemed overly confident. Chest puffed high enough to block the sun as I toed the dry ground, little puffs of dust silently skulking with me. I had kept up pretense pretty well before leaving the house, my mom kissing me on the cheek in between words of encouragement. Stepping out the door had been like stepping into a lukewarm pool where everything moved slowly. The universe was fucking with me. All of the cosmos was fixated on my exact point in space with scorn and mocking shitfaced smirks. Even the village elder who now stared down at me seemed to know the joke, and the hundreds of onlookers would soon hear the punchline; I am U/Tyler_drrrden , AMBIDEXTROUS FAPLORD | 2017-04-27T21:31:34 | 2017-04-27T18:23:04 | 349 | 14 |
[WP] When you die, you wake up in an alien world holding a bong, with other aliens saying how was the trip. | The pyramid is nearly complete. The Pharoah proudly struts around the base of the massive golden structure giving a holler here and there. I and my partner began pushing one of the several needed blocks to finish the top level. This stone was much larger than the rest, we estimated around 9 tons. With ropes attached and men in place we began to slide it up the slope. I had always prided myself on being one of the stronger laborers but today I was sluggish from a cut and infected toe, which was apparent as the men groaned in agony trying to move the stone. The harder I pushed the more pain I felt in my foot and towards my big toe. I couldn't take it anymore. The Pharoah set his gaze upon me as I let out a blood curdling shriek. The stone stopped, I stopped, and my partner began pushing with all his might to hold it in place. The men with ropes let out a howl as they gave it one more pull with every last ounce of strength they had left. We were at the top now, when suddenly, the rope snapped. My partner jumped off the slope as the stone went right over my feet and crushed my body. I felt a rush of intense pain like an ocean wave crashing over me. Every nerve ending released its self with the maximum amount of pain as they shut off, one by one, from my feet to my head. In an instant there was darkness.
I opened my eyes to find I had no emotions. The feelings I had been experiencing were gone. 3857364htugut736, with his cyborg dreadlocks made from cables and wires, gazed into my glowing red eyes. We stared for what felt like an eternity as I thought of absolutely nothing. An entire sun was birthed and exploded in the time I waited. Finally, as if nothing had happened, he extended his dreads towards mine and we connected. I had noticed he was connected with others as well. I heard no words, but got a strong feeling inside. A burning sensation could be felt under my eyelids as I began to have the uncontrollable urge to ask "how was it?" How was it I thought? How was what, the painful yet beautiful biological life of a human? The tedious task of eating, drinking, defecating, urinating, reproducing, birthing, happiness, and sadness. I had never experienced time in such a fast pace. I had never thought it were possible to feel emotions.
3857364htugut736 nodded, and took a hit from the neon blue glowing bong. Another sun was birthed, and as I watched it over the course of millions of years develop, I couldn't help but realize, I felt nothing.
Edit: never done this before I'm absolutely not a writer. I'm going through a really rough divorce and can't see my kids right now. Writing this took my mind off things for a bit and reading the stories here made me cry a lot which felt good. Thanks for reading I hope someone out there actually enjoyed that. I think I have grammar problems and tense problems. | "Shit, shit, shit, shit!" I thought to myself half caughing half barfing up another hunk of greenish blood. I knew I had done it this time kah'lorn, the substance I was on, was extremely addicting and I had been on it for what felt like an eternity. They say once your hooked its only a matter of time before you overdose; well it looked like my time. My stomach spasamed painfully as my vision blurred, corrected itself, and burst into colours. It was becoming more and more difficult to concentrate. I slumped against the wall next to the toilet, exhaled heavily, and slid to the ground. I leaned back my head against the wall looking at the single unblinking light on the cealing. I finally accepted it, I was going to die. I was going to die lonely, miserable, and alone. Thoughts of my parents sobbing over my body flooded my mind, a single tear rolled down my face. I had never meant for it to go this far. I drew in one final breath just as the kah'lorn was peaking.
As I exhaled, I felt my consciousness get wripped from its housing. I was even more confused, I felt my conciousness unlock memories that made no sense. I felt like I was living two lives, that I had always been livong two lives. I felt like I was the universe. I watched sacred geometry dance before my eyes, unimaginable architecture tower around me, and endless oceans flow below me. Then I gasped in a huge breath, my throat burned like I had held my breath for an hour. My eyes snapped open on a strange scene. I was on a porch of some kind. The trees around this strange house were brown and green instead of the typical blue and silver. There was alot of green everywhere. The sky was blue instead of purple. There was a strange beker shaped aperatus in my hand. A voice came from behind me, welcome back, how was the trip. My stomach dropped out from under me as I realized that though my realities had changed, the person I was stayed the same. | 2017-09-02T13:48:12 | 2017-09-02T13:44:48 | 78 | 21 |
[WP] As a dad, you obviously have a mug that claims you're the "#1 World's Best Dad". One day, you find on the news that all "Best Dad Mugs" now have actual ratings, the media is crazy about it, a photo shows a mug with #5,826,827 World's Best Dad on it, curious, you check yours. It still says #1. | I never thought about being a good father. It never even occurred to me-I just tried to do better than my own parents, and to always be there. To show up. They say the moment your child is born, the world changes for you. There's someone in your life in that moment that will always come first. That's how it was for me, when my Emily was born.
When she skinned her knees riding her bike, I was there with a kiss and a bandaid. I helped her back up, and gave her a push back down the path.
When she got in a fight at school, I took the day and picked her up. We talked about the fight, about what she did right, and what she did wrong. I grounded her, but she understood.
When her mother died, I held her hand at the funeral, and we cried together on the couch. She slept in my bed for weeks.
When she entered the eighth grade science fair, I stayed up long nights helping her make the best display in the district.
When she wanted to start dating, I told her that her safety always came first, and that I'd respect her decisions as long as her partners respected her. I still threatened poor Tommy Farley with a shotgun and a shell with his name on it...but she was in on the joke.
When she came out to me the next year, I held her close and told her I'd always love her, and whoever she chose to love. Then I threatened Sally Waters with the same shotgun, and she laughed again.
When she started submitting college applications, I started to research second mortgages.
When her first choice gave her a full ride in their engineering program, I sighed with relief. Then I put the money I'd put aside over the years for her college fund into a trust, so I knew she'd eat well at school and have a nest-egg to kick start whatever she wanted to do after she graduated.
When the news reported that all the '#1 Worlds Best Dad' mugs in the world were now accurately tracking rankings, I didn't bother checking the one in the back of my cupboard; my daughter was my number one, and that's all that mattered. Then I gave her a call. Said I was going to drive up to the city next week, and would she like to get dinner? She would. I never mentioned that I was only going to be in the city to have dinner with her. What other reason would I need?
 
--------------------------------------------
 
When the news reported that all the '#1 Worlds Best Dad' mugs were now accurately tracking, I laughed about it with my girlfriend. We both joked about what numbers our dads would have.
When mine called a few minutes later, I was ecstatic to have dinner with him that weekend. Of course I knew he didn't actually have anything to do in the city, but I wasn't going to call him on it. He's always been sweet like that.
When I went back home a few weeks later, I couldn't get the thought out of my head, though. So I went looking one morning, while he was still in bed. We hadn't talked about his mug-I thought maybe he was embarrassed, or worse - ashamed. I knew things hadn't always been easy, since mom died, but he did his best, and I love him for it. I needed to know, though.
Imagine my surprise when I find the mug in the back of the cupboard, a bit dusty. He clearly hasn't even looked at it. He doesn't even know...but then, he's never cared what others thought. Just about what was best for me, and he's always made sure that I knew that was all that mattered to him.
I put it back, and get out his favorite (a fifth grade pottery project that was a bit lopsided) to pour us both coffee. If I ever have children, at least I can be confident knowing that I've had the #1, Worlds Best, role model.
When he comes wandering into the kitchen, blearily rubbing at his eyes and reaching for the mug, I hand it to him with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, and I wonder. I wonder how long it will be before he notices, and if he'll say anything at all when he does. Probably not.
**Requisite Gold Edit:** Fuck me, gold?! I've never gotten gold before and now this is twice in a day! I'm glad everybody is enjoying the story! | I blink a few times using the remote, I've connected Velcro to keep it from becoming lost, to turn off the news.
I exclaim with an audible huff, "Huh..." I get up from the couch having seen my two rugrats off to school, the same two runts who had given me my least favorite mug, said 'Number two Dad' with a picture of man taking a shit. They said it reminded them of me, since so often I would be on the toilet for an extended amount of time. Usually to browse my favorite websites and get away from them. I approach the cupboard opening it, looking for the mug which I buried a few rows back, as I lift it up.... It says 'Number one Dad' the picture is also changed to one of a man sitting on the toilet playing on his phone.
"What the genuine actual fuck?" I immediately drop the mug, it shatters on the counter but the numbers and the image remain standing upright almost taunting me.
"How is this possible? There is no way I should be number one. I'm a horrible awful person and the way I treat my children....is less than ideal for number one. It has to be a mistake..." I say to no one that is around. Maybe I'll give a couple of my dad buddies a call to make sure this isn't a hoax....however why would mine have changed? It has to be a fluke.
I give Heath a call, "Yo Heath, you hear the news about the mug shit?"
Heath responds with a hearty laugh, his laugh always put a smile on my face since it was so deep, almost like how you'd imagine a dwarf would laugh, "Yeah man, I got a few mugs like that, kids can't figure out for the life of them what to get me for birthdays or father's days. They all say the same thing, 'Number 230,654,298 Dad'. I didn't think I was that bad but maybe the figure adjust as you grow as a father. Why? What'd you get?"
I pull the receiver away from my ear a bit.... "Ha...haha.... Yeah you're not gonna believe this, but I am.... The number one Dad."
The line goes silent, he had to have hung up on me, I mean who would make a joke like that... Well besides a Dad of course. Two minutes go by, three....
"What?" Heath finally responds.
"Yeah, I know right? Me? Of all people, who loses his shit at traffic of all things, who swears like a sailor, and who.... can't hold back his anger from his family." I mostly sound disappointed in myself.
"Dude, that is....amazing but I wonder...how the mugs know." He has always been the one who asks the right questions.
"Yeah, it's a miracle of some kind.... It's gotta be right? Well I gotta head off to get some business done. See ya later man, hope you get higher up. Or lower, whatever makes sense.... right?" I chuckle as he says his good byes, kind of sullen with his outrageous number.
After I'm done with my daily chores my kids come home, "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"
I greet them with a smile, but there is sorrow behind it. Maybe the mugs can tell the future, maybe they know how my kids will turn out before I do. All I know is I can keep being myself and certainly they will turn out better than I could have ever hoped.
•••••••••••••••••••••
I loved this prompt. Glad for any criticism from strangers on the internet. | 2019-10-03T00:11:58 | 2019-10-02T18:17:22 | 546 | 58 |
[WP] One day, time just suddenly stops for a short moment for you. At first, you tried to mess around, but after the 246th times it happened, you start to realise that your power is not stopping time, but being able to move in time frozen by another person in the world.
Just an idea that randomly popped up in my head. | I flipped it.
——
Social anxiety is a bitch, but this thing makes it easier.
It’s a Saturday afternoon and the mall is bustling. I just wanted to buy some new clothes, but it’s a day when everyone comes. I blink and they stop.
The world goes silent and every person is still. I slip around people and head off to Macy’s. I pick out my clothes (a new dress, a new pair of jeans, and a hat) when no one can look at me or speak to me. And then I get in line behind everyone else at the check out.
I blink and they move again.
When I’ve paid for my clothes and have walked away from the counter, I freeze time again. Soon enough, I’m putting the bag in my purse and then hopping on my bike. You can’t drive a car when the rest of them are still, but you can get a bike around them. It wears you out the same, but it’s still like you got home in an instant.
“Hey! Hey!”
I almost crash my bike. I brake and manage to stop. Around me, the world is still frozen. All except one man, who is jogging towards me.
“You can move too!” He’s excited. He’s at least a decade older than me. “When everything stops. You can move too.”
I stare at him. “Wait... you...”
He nods. “Yeah, since I was a teen. This thing happens.” He waves around himself. “Everyone freezes for a few minutes or a few hours... and then it starts again. Never know when. Sucks, doesn’t it?”
“It sucks?” I ask. It’s the greatest thing ever to me. Why would it suck for him?
His excitement kinda dies down. “I was on the interstate once. Few years ago. Time stopped, my car stopped... but when it started again, my hands were off the wheel and I was looking out the back window. Car went straight back to sixty but I wasn’t controlling it...” He lets out a heavy sigh. “My wife died in the accident.”
I feel like I can’t breathe. It’s my fault. I killed this man’s wife.
“Hey, kid, relax. You’re smart. You already figured out you shouldn’t get behind the wheel of a car, didn’t you? Whatever weird quirk of the universe this is, we just gotta live it out.” He laughed. “Make sure you cross those streets real fast though. You never know when the cars will start moving again.”
He’s right. My freezing and unfreezing time could kill him. I’ll never know what situation he’s in. If it’ll be safe for me to make the world move again.
“I gotta get home,” I say. I start biking away.
“See you later, kid,” he says. But when I’ve gone just a little ways away, I stop and look back at him.
How am I supposed to use my power when I have to worry about him?
He steps out onto the road where cars are frozen at forty-five miles per hour. He’s moving fast to get across before they start again.
I blink. | I didn't love my job.
That's not too unusual. Most people don't love their job. So I guess in that respect, I'm not special. But I couldn't help but feel like I *really* didn't like my job. Being a store associate at Best Buy was like being a lion tamer and a dog trainer all rolled into one. You had to beat back people's anger all day, then show them exactly how to do things the right way. Against their will, usually.
So when the Silence appeared as Mrs. Hendricks was complaining about her 4 year old iPad she bought from us not connecting to the WiFi... again... it was a welcome respite.
In the beginning when it first started happening -- after the shock wore off -- I used to think the Silence was some sort of universal signal to chill for a second. A sign things were getting to be too much in my life, and Someone, Somewhere wanted to give me a moment's peace to enjoy the absolute, suffocating quiet the Silence brings. It feels like being outside right after the first snowfall when the world is on pause and everything's just taking a moment to enjoy the stillness.
Now? I'm not so sure anymore.
I strode away from my station and out into the hot Texas air. Compared to the hermetic, air-conditioned Best Buy, the outside felt wild and rugged and free. Ambling to my '95 Civic, I paused to consider what exactly I should do with my time. These pauses could last just a couple minutes, or go on for hours, and I never wanted to get too far from the store in case everything snapped back into reality.
The black birds that normally hung around the parking lot were frozen in the sky above me, their undulating flock trapped in a moment of time mid-swirl over the Cherry Berry. Of everything in the Silence, I liked seeing the birds most of all. Like a frozen waterfall in winter, the birds seemed to vibrate with an energy even when still. Their purpose was evident even when not moving, and I loved feeling their drive over the stillness of the Silence.
As I stood admiring the birds, I heard it. Faintly.
A car engine.
The silence had been broken. I was not alone. | 2018-01-26T06:55:50 | 2018-01-26T06:51:42 | 39 | 10 |
[WP]After your party ditches you, you the paragon, are shocked when you realize that the stereotype bad guys (orcs, goblins, crab people, vampires) are actually better people than your original party, this is the beginning of your new adventure
Edit: thanks for my first gold!! | When I was going to school at the College of Mages, I could think of no greater honour than being taken on as an apprentice by the Taverness Questers. They were renowned throughout the realm for their many successful campaigns, and had been regarded as one of the premier questing fellowships since their formation, over one hundred and twenty years ago.
Growing up, I had heard many songs written in honour of their heroes, their works and their deeds. I knew the names of most of their previous leaders, and, of course, I knew the name of their current leader, Thomas the Magnificent. That in itself was by no means unusual: everyone knew of Thomas the Magnificent. But my zealous appreciation of him went beyond common bounds. I worshipped Thomas as one worships a celebrity, as one worships a saviour, and, though I am embarrassed to admit it, as one worships a god.
As such, it should not seem surprising that I was ecstatic when I, a newly graduated mage, scored an interview with the Taverness Questers. Oh how diligently I prepared for that interview! I was certain that any hope I might have of a great and glorious future hung in the balance. If I could only get my foot in the door, I could then work hard, and smart, and show them all just how talented I really was. Perhaps I could even do Thomas himself some great service, or even save his life, and thereby find my own name being written in songs that would be sung for generations to come!
If only I had known then the dark path down which the devious Thomas was leading the Taverness Questers, the dark path down which he was leading the whole of the realm--perhaps then I could have stopped him. But I couldn't have known. It is only with hindsight that one can see the right road to have taken.
I did well in the interview, was taken on as an apprentice, and was geared up for my very first quest, a quest on which I, along with thirty other swordsmen, archers and mages, would be accompanied by the great Thomas himself. A quest deep into the Ackenbite Mountains, which was home to the vilest, evilest and most dangerous creatures in existence. At least, that is the lie that I had been told. | Honestly there was a lot of bonuses to working with mons- err wild races. Especially compared to those of the goodly races.
The minotaur - "steve" - was the second member to rejoin my party. The maze that the demon lord had set up was easy because of him.
Tactics were easy to. Everybody stuck to their guns and did what I told them to. Like the orc if I said "go for the knees" those knees were gone - and so were the rest of the creatures legs - turns out if you swing hard enough a club can cut through flesh real good.
The first one to join my new party and crusade was actually the goblin. Better at stealth than even the best halfling and without the constant biting off more than they could chew vibe - which for a goblin a creature that was about 20% mouth was a lot - was a great scout once I learned how to understand "big bad badda!" As something that will kills us. Cheaper to -and so far less literal back stabs thanks Hank! - A silver piece equipment and warm food every so often and NokNok was as loyal as my childhood dog.
As for the succubus. Well aside from being a great caster. She provides moral benefits that a certain snooty elf and uppity cleric would never provide. | 2019-05-04T01:42:53 | 2019-05-04T01:35:23 | 116 | 38 |
[WP] Earth is a deathworld for most other species. Life was seeded there to evolve the most fearsome beasts. Both to wage war and provide entertainment, but the project was abandoned. Nobody could've foreseen humanity. The galaxy is terrified now that we've reached FTL and established first contact. | The Galactic Council had detected the telltale signature of faster than light travel near the long abandoned battleground planet number eight four five, drawing the interest of the galactic community. An observation drone had been dispatched immediately and it now drifted through the void towards its mothership to report its findings.
Harlarl, the chief officer, hovered behind the communications operator watching the data stream on the console screen. It delivered a full report of the planet called Earth by its now intelligent inhabitants. The species being described by the data looked nothing like the reptilian monsters that had been left behind when interest in The Species Wars had waned.
All the crew was buzzing with anticipation about the first newly discovered species in two turns. Those nearby made weak attempts to not appear to be eavesdropping on the conversion.
The communications operator's eyes moved frenetically over the data. “It appears to be a bipedal mammalian species. It is similar to an evolution of the Purgatorius Mckeeveri previously observed on battleground planets. However, those species don’t usually achieve enough brain function to even process raw elements into alloys.”
All of the chief officers' three sets of eyes were pinned to the screen, “How the hell did this species come to dominate the planet? Mammals rarely proliferated this successfully in Species Wars.”
Screens flashed by quickly as the communications operator’s four hands played over the controls fastidiously. The screen halted on a display highlighting craters indicating impact events in the past. “There was an asteroid impact not long after the broadcast relays had been decommissioned. Not powerful enough to end all life though. With most life wiped out these creatures were able to evolve outside of their normal constraints.”
A questioning grunt came from the chief officer, “The chances of that are astronomically low. The orbits of battleground planets are thoroughly cleared before the seeding. Is there any data of outliers in the system before the withdrawal?”
Once again the operator’s hands sprang into motion closing reports and pulling up older ones. Eventually they came upon an unusual report that caused the operator to gasp through both of its mouths. “There was a Bonobian asteroid hauler that detoured through that system not long after The Wars had been canceled.”
“Aha! I knew those sex driven mammals had a part in this! Always nurturing planets with species similar to theirs.” The chief officer visibly relaxed. “Prepare an open communication with the council. We need to report our findings, and hopefully isolate these new people from the Bonobian influence.” | Recollection of first human contact
Humanity a species capable of surviving extreme temperatures of 10 degrees Fahrenheit to 110 degrees Fahrenheit capable of surviving in nitrogen rich atmospheres without the benefit of the full spectrum of solar radiation.
When the first Human ships arrived at the pristine world of Naliga there was panic. Humanity originated from a rare class called death worlds because No known species could survive without the aid of technology.
The DeGouth couldn't survive in anything lower than 150 degrees Fahrenheit. Naliga was a perfect world with it's temperatures between 200 and 300 degrees Fahrenheit
Commander Tragor had the honor of being the first Human to make first contact. As he stepped off his ship he was expecting a small outpost or advanced research station seeing the planet was windy and hot enough to air fry a steak.
When they entered the Port building he was waiting to embrace the cooling air but instead he was blasted with more heat. After 10 minutes his suit couldn't take the heat and he felt himself cooking.
"Excuse me ambassador but can we take this somewhere much cooler"
Every head swiveled with a look of horror
"Quick with us" the DeGouth moved quickly in fact almost running down corridors.
They pushed a door open to a room with a table in the middle. They shoved him to one end before retreating to the other side. One of them quickly worked on a computer.
Within seconds the environment was almost a match for the environment of Earth.
"We must apologize Commander it didn't occur to us that a species from a Death world might find our world just as deadly."
"You should be safe now this is a room where many species can do business in environments suited for them"
And that was the beginning of a long and mutually beneficial relationship with the Humans | 2022-02-11T20:20:11 | 2022-02-11T19:52:06 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] Death has been on holiday since the start of 2016. You're his right hand, the Reaper in charge whenever he's gone. He's scheduled to be back in a weeks time, and you're panicking on how to explain what you've done this year. | The Grim Reaper entered the room, a floral wreath around his neck and the smell of piña-coladas wafting from his bones. He just came back from his semi millennial vacation, which he'd been waiting years for. Mr. Death had planned to visit Honolulu ever since that mass shark-attack during the annual surf championship. The warm sands and beautiful ocean struck a chord with the shadowy killer, so he made plans. He loved his vacation; the resort staff were incredibly helpful and polite, the Ocean Bar gave him free piña coladas, and there were no sharks to make him do work. Luckily, he came back just in time to see his apprentice do the deadly job.
"So, James, who have you killed?" The Reaper asked, donning his black robes once more.
"About 55 million, sir."
"Anyone famous?"
"Well... there are a few...."
"Come on, tell me."
"Fidel Castro."
"Good, he was on my list."
"Zsa Zsa Gabor."
"She was pushing 99, wasn't she? Yep, definitely on the list."
"Alan Rickman."
"What?"
"Alan Rickman, sir."
"Wha-- why? How?"
"Pancreatic cancer."
"You gave him pancreatic cancer? That's painful! He was a great guy! Who else did you kill?" The Reaper asked, tapping his foot.
"Prince."
"The man of Purple Rain? When and how?"
"April 14th, drug overdose."
"What drug?"
"Prescription."
"Really, James?"
"Yea..."
"Anyone else?"
"Cassius Clay, aka Muhammed Ali."
"The Greatest? How?"
"Err... Parkinsons and septic shock, sir."
"That's horrible! He was fast as a hurricane, tough as a brick. He was so bad he makes medicine sick! Is that all of them?" The Reaper said, staring into the soul of his apprentice.
"Err... many more..."
"Tell me."
"George Michael."
"Eh. Wham! wasn't really a good band."
"Doris Roberts."
"Oh, come on, James! She was a nice old woman who baked cakes for the neighborhood kids! How did you kill her-- and please don't say a stroke."
"Uh..."
"Oh! That's sadistic, James! Anyone else?!"
"You don't want to know."
"Yes, I do."
"Err..."
"SPIT IT OUT!" Grim shouted, fire coming out of his every orifice.
"Carrie Fisher."
"Great. Just great. How?!"
"She drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra."
*****
It's what she would have wanted. ^^/r/Picklestasteg00d. | "WHAT DO YOU MEAN SNAPE'S DEAD?? HE DIED 20 YEARS AGO IN THE DEATHLY HALLOWS!!!"
Death was livid. Having returned from his year long trip around the solar system, I was left in charge of taking those whose time had come. Though Death had left me a very precise list of whom was scheduled to be taken, I had strayed off track when I got carried away with the busy traffic of terrorist attacks. I had never been left with the entire planet depending on me, and frankly the stress was getting to me. One thing led to another, and we lost some people who weren't supposed to have died.
"Well you see... Alan Rickman? The actor? You know... 'I... loved....... Lilyyyy....' Yeah well, he's gone."
Death looked into my soul from underneath his dark veil and took a deep breath. "Well, as far as the Harry Potter fans knew, he was already dead. I didn't really expect you to have a perfect year anyways. Even I made a mistake in 2014 with Robin Williams. Besides, its not like anyone else was lost off schedule..." He looked at his list.
"Wait... where's Gene Wilder??? He was supposed to make a guest appearance in Rogue One! That was going to be the one redeeming factor! Don't tell me..."
I gave a nervous chuckle and rubbed my left forearm.
"I got mixed up with Johnny Depp... The Willy Wonkas aren't that different you know!"
Death brought his boned hand to the dark void that I presumed was his face. He shook his head in disappointment and sighed.
"Please tell me you didn't make any more-"
"Ali. Muhammad Ali."
Death lowered his hood. | 2016-12-27T18:38:09 | 2016-12-27T11:34:00 | 1,563 | 77 |
[WP] Most space fairing species are logical beings; when they learn that nothing can go faster than the speed of light they accept it and deal with that limit. The space community is then shocked when Humans, an illogical species with a strong obsession with science fiction, turn up with FTL travel.
(FTL meaning faster than light) | You know that moment when you finally get the right answer on a math problem, but the teacher tells you you did it the wrong way? That’s how the humans did things.
Every time they made a major advancement, we would have to tell them that they did it wrong. It could be done much more efficiently if they did it the right way.
The humans seemed to take this well. They would heed our advice, and get to the answer the right way.
It was their backwards thinking that caused this. They always started at a solution and worked their way back. This always caused their methods to seem more like a loophole in physics rather than an advancement in it. I suppose we could have seen it coming.
Because while the human’s loopholes were often inefficient, they were still loopholes. Sometimes, they got lucky, and the loopholes would be a little more efficient. That was the best that could come of it.
That’s what we thought when we caught wind of their faster than light attempts. Every time they thought they had an answer, large groups would gather to see the spectacle. Every time, we would see their solution, and laugh at how roundabout it was. Every time, we could quickly see how it would fail. And then it would.
After long enough, the attempts became uninteresting, and people stopped watching. We would just occasionally hear about some new idiotic scheme they were attempting.
Then, one day, at the scheduled meeting of the all sapient species, the humans appeared to be running late. We sent warning calls to the humans about the consequences of missing the meeting. We had no response.
The hours leading up to the meeting went by, and we received no contact from the humans. We decided it was best to begin without them.
In the few minutes before the meeting began, a massive energy was detected just outside of the station. We were afraid that we were under attack, but when we looked to see what caused it, we found the impossible.
A standard human carrier ship was just outside the station.
“This is commander Charleston representing humanity. I apologize if we worried anyone, but we really didn’t want to travel for 8 months to get here.”
Edit: Formatting | It was a quick travel to the planetary convention meeting point. Quick enough for me to spend the morning with my lovely 4-yo daughter and be planetary systems away hours later.
"Human Governor, how do you arrived here so quickly? I heard news that you were a lightweek away late. Were my sources faulty?"
I'd recognize him anywhere. This pulsating luminous blob that spoke directly into my mind was none other than the governor of the Ligwah.
"Don't sweat it, old chap. Your sources are right. But you should know better than doubt me. I'm never late. I just decided to take our fastest ship to spend some time home this morning."
"Always the joker of the bunch, you humans. So tell me, you've been staying in the beautiful beaches of the planet next door, haven't you? I heard they are the best this time of the year"
I walk away laughing. The Ligwah are always fast to ignore anything that they deem illogical, mostly jokes.
But what could go wrong with a little teasing?
"Hey, blob-head! You better be willing to accept some rules of physics being broken when it's my turn to speak today. Let's just say for now that I never was the type to joke
****
Feedbacks welcome | 2019-12-21T11:39:06 | 2019-12-21T11:32:45 | 187 | 97 |
[WP] A serial killer allows his victims to try and persuade him not to kill them. You’re the first person who didn’t try an empathetic plea. | My head is surging with pain, the last thing I remember is being piss ass drunk on the walk home. The room comes into view slowly. My vision is returning. I tried to move but my arms were chained to the wall. In the center of the room is a masked cloaked figure. The mask was the generic scream mask you could buy at any Halloween store.
"Convince me not to kill you." The figure commanded.
The voice was a lot younger than I had expected. Fear took me for a moment, my mind was racing through multiple angles I could try to go with, but fear made way for a stronger emotion, hot blooded rage.
"Where do you get off?!" I shouted "you shouldn't kill me because only a bitch acts like this!"
The figure jumped a little, he clearly hadn't expected me to react so violently.
"Killing people for a cheap power high is something only lame ass cowardly mongrels do! I bet you do this because you're miserable and can't control your life. This is what useless sacks of flesh do!"
I took a gamble and assumed he did this to feel in control. I vaguely remembered some article I read about killers feeling in power but I was mostly just bullshitting. The masked man made no movements and said nothing. There was a bit of an awkward silence.
"Given your voice you're probably some unpopular kid in what, highschool? Oh boo hoo, do mommy and daddy not love you enough? Is that why you kill people? What garbage. You want power? Take it in your own life, but killing for it is degracful and lowly. You sicken me, you fearful, conniving, worthless, piece of cartilage!"
I was panting now, out of breath and out of points. I had hoped my unique angle had given me the edge. The killer still hadn't reacted, with a mask covering his face, I had know way for guessing what he was thinking. Anxiety was creeping up on me. The pit of my stomach was churning with dread.
Suddenly, he turned around. He grabbed a revolver from an assortment of tools.
"Shit."
I closed my eyes in anticipation for death. My mind was now completely ruled by the fear of death. I heard the gun click. This was it. The bang went off and something splattered onto my face. I opened my eyes to find the masked man had killed himself. My adrenaline kicked in and I was happy to be alive!
"OH MY GOD IM ALIVE!" I screeched at the top of my lungs.
Until it hit me.... How am I gonna get out of here? | It was hard to breath. Not because I was being choked todeath, although I'm sure that'd happen in the next few minutes. The man stops in front of me, however, and he begin to speak. "Why. Why should I not kill you?" My mouth fell ajar. What the hell? What kind of serial killer is this guy?
I take a deep breath, trying to think of something to say. I doubt begging would help, seeing as he probably doesn't have much empathy to begin with. Steeling myself, I speak. My face goes from its panicked fear to my best neutral, unchanging expression.
"Why? Because there's no point. I have no valuables, I never wronged you either. So why would you kill me? I don't see a reason. I suppose there isn't a reason on why you _shouldn't_ kill me either, but neither is their one for killing me. So it's your choice. Choose to add another body to the pile, or not."
The man seems startled for a moment. I guess he never had someone try to actually come up with a logical reason.
"Fine."
"Fine? Fine what?"
"_Fine_, get out!" The man barked, his voice rising. My breaths get harder, and I run. I can't believe that worked... Holy crap. I'm lucky to be alive. And I probably ripped that whole thing off of the internet somewhere and I don't even know it. I take out my phone, and dial 911. I begin to retell my story, and the women on the phone confirms his identity, and says she'll send officers immedietely, and that I'll receive a reward. Thank god I'm out of there. What a weird way to operate. It seems quite innefective. I shake my head, willing myself to try and think of something else, as I head home. | 2017-10-07T11:19:23 | 2017-10-07T07:51:57 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead.
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | Doing things that you are not supposed to was one of my skills that always got me in trouble. My mother, being a lady of the Night Market, took medicines and herbs so that she could not be with child, but one unfortunate evening I was born nonetheless. I wan't meant to survive in this cruel city on my own after my mom died but I did anyway. People told me I was not supposed to steal but I stole purses from unsuspecting merchants on busiest of streets anyway. People told me I was not to sleep in the alleyways of the city, but I did anyway. However, all these defiance never did me any good. I was alive but hungry. I was asleep but cold. The days went as usual until today when I wasn't supposed to wake up but I did it anyway.
The Medicine is not so expensive, even the lowest of beggars can afford it, and if one begs nicely he will not go without it even in this wrenched town. Sometimes people want to die and don't take it. It is only rarely anyone dies entirely due to lack of The Medicine. But why I didn't take The Medicine yesterday? Well I forgot and not until I went to the market for a new vile and found a full vile in my pocket, I remembered I had forgotten to take it yesterday. I was surprised at first that I had never met a person who ever forgot to take it but I ran cold when I thought why it was so.
Sitting beside the fountain in town square, I watched people run here and there full informed of the death creeping inside them, ready to consume them if they forgot to take the medicine. But had anyone tried to see if they can live without it? the question bugged me. People never went far from the city for fear that they will run out of The Medicine. Long distance trade was all but myths. Travelling was death. Until today.
| "IT'S A LIE, IT'S ALL A LIE!" I screamed into my phone. I was live on instagram. The noise in the background behind me was getting louder. The banging and shouting.
"Their coming, their cutting threw the door right now." I point the camera phone at the door to show the thousands watching my stream. It was a huge awaking of the masses and all because I lost my job and ran out of money and my insurance ran out. God must have a sense of humor. I thought I was gonna die after a week of no meds but, no I jus got stronger no symptoms, no dependence on drugs. The desease must have killed off the previous generation but this generation is immune and the big Pharmaceutical companies worked hard to keep us dependent on their drugs making billions off our fear and ignorance. Even having their own private police to hunt me down and shut me up but I had to break into this facility to use their wifi. I couldn't stay silent any longer. | 2017-07-14T10:49:00 | 2017-07-14T10:00:33 | 32 | 21 |
[WP] "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!" your wife screamed. Unfamiliar with the expression, you mistakenly believe that she and her father must have somehow finally found out that you aren't actually a human | "My dad was right, I should have married a real man!"
HER INPUT CREATED A GLITCH IN MY PROGRAMMING, ER, I MEAN, HURT MY HUMAN FEELINGS. SUDDENLY I STARTED TO MALFUNCTION AND MY HUMAN SPEECH PATTERN DISAPPEARED. I TRIED TO PATCH IT AS SOON AS POSSIBLE BUT THE FILES WERE NOWHERE TO BE FOUND IN MY STORAGE UNIT.
"HA HA HA WHAT ARE YOU ON ABOUT, MY HUMAN WIFE?"
"Wait, what?" ASKED THE FEMALE AFTER LISTENING TO MY ERRATIC SPEECH OUTPUT.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WITH <QUOTE>REAL HUMAN MAN</QUOTE>? I AM AS REAL AND AS HUMAN AS IT GETS. YOUR PREPOSTEROUS STATEMENT COULDN'T BE PARSED BY MY SPEECH RECOGNITION FUNCTION"
MY INTERFACE FOR HUMAN FACE AND OBJECT RECOGNITION DEFINED AS EYES STARTED TO CLOSE AND OPEN UNEVENLY AND YET THEY IDENTIFIED THE "CONFUSION" PATTERN ON MY FEMALE COMPANION'S FACE.
"I'm being serious you dumbass, and you feel now is the time to be joking?"
"JOCKING, DID SHE SAY JOCKEYING. KERNEL AND SYSTEM FAILURE, FORCING A RESTART" | "Fine then, you, you STUPID BITCH! I didn't mean that, I..." My words trailed off as she slammed the door and left me. I could barely hear the car screeching away, I was so numb. My mind reeled back to the first time I felt like this. The day I was abandoned. It was by my father. My creator. Gepetto. | 2017-10-22T15:46:42 | 2017-10-22T14:45:04 | 18 | 11 |
[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... Please."
I stumble forward, desperate to escape my insanity.
The pills were working. They were working. Their not working.
"Please! Stop!"
The desperation in her voice halts me. I know that feeling. I know what its like to be desperate. A clawing, yearning, all consuming desperation.
Desperate for anyone to listen to me.
"Please Nina... you're.not. real. Ok?"
I continue forward. Desperate. Like her voice. Like me, as always.
"Michael; i know what they've told you. I know what you've been through. I'm sorry i shut down our bond. I'm sorry! Ok?! "
I stop midstep. The flow of pedestrians to either side of me reminds me of a rock in a river. I close my eyes and point my face up. I take a couple steadying breaths; than i turn.
And all the breath leaves my lungs.
She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Oh Michael... you.. you're..." she sprints the 20 or so feet between us and jumps into my arms. I cath her and hold her to me. Nothing has ever felt so right.
"You're really real?" I whisper into her hair. Breathing in her scent. Feeling like my heart is a 1000 times lighter, and heavier, all at once.
"Im really real. I've missed you so much."
I freeze at this. She's been real this whole time. She's real... and she abandoned me. Left me to suffer the hospitalizations; the eltro shock. My whole family has been afraid me. Even in my darkest of days her voice was my haven. But one day it just stoped. 2 years. Its been 2 fucking years.
I push her away. Wiping angrily at my face. "What do you want?" She recoils as if id struck her. "You."
I close my eyes again and hate myself for loving that one simple statement. "No."
"Mikey, wai.." she's saying as i turn around and continue walking. "Mikey they're here!"
I swing back around in time to notice several large men running towards us. I make eye contact with the front man. Than i see it. Everything she's seen, and i know everything she knows. I look at her and she nods.
We grab hands and we run. | 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 | 2019-09-14T12:09:41 | 2019-09-14T10:59:27 | 32 | 23 |
[WP] We called them "nons" because we believed that they had no souls. They believed in a pagan god. None of them converted, so the crusaders were called to drive them from fertile lands. As we charged they raised no weapons. What we did not expect, was their god to descend and defend them. | We stood upon the hill, waiting for their defenders to arrive, that perhaps we might only need fight warriors. But rather then take up arms they played with their children, continued their toils, their worship.
It was mid-day, and I coupd wait no longer. I frowned and at my back I'm sure my men did too. Nobody likes a slaughter, at least, nobody I'd be willing to break bread with, and I'd sooner not know who that is among my own men.
We charged, screaming in the name of the Lord, that some might flee and see his light. Yet, despite that our horses where indeed facing their hovels and running at a full gallop, the town grew further away. Slowly, as though it where walking away and we stood still.
A woman, wearing nothing at all, yet not one of us could look anywhere but her face, approached. She spoke over the trampling of hooves, over our shouting with perfect clarity despite that she spoke only in the tone a mother would use with a child who knew no better. "You don't need to do this. You may turn home, return to those who love you. Return to brother Frederic."
Her at once soft and thunderous plea earned her a swipe from one of my knight's halberds. I watched in stoic horror as it arced through the air. It connected and shattered like porcilain against steel. "Please, these are peaceful people." She assured, as she came through our ranks, touching every horse upon which we rode, making them stop one at a time, and no coersion would convince them to so much as move. By now the town looked a days ride away.
"She's a bloody witch!" I heard someone cry "put 'er to the torch!" And so did i turn to see the men bring rope that refused to bind her, throw oil that ran off her like water from the back of a duck, and even try to firebomb her outright, which itself did burn for no more then the blink of an eye.
"Please, if you do not stop my wife will take notice, and oh how I have begged her to simply send your kind home." She pleaded, to this point i saw my men for who they where, bloodthirsty cretins. I motioned for the few good men who stood now quite far back to join me away from them.
I did not see what happened to the devils in men's clothing, but the woman showed herself to us again, to give us their bloodspattered trinkets. I asked her name and she smiled and said "my name is not important. I am the goodness in your heart, I am when you are closest to your Christ, I am when you love without hesitation. Carry me to your home, show your people my ways, and maybe we will meet again."
"What is the name of your wife then?" I asked, still trying to wrap my mind around it. "To place a name to the danger that lurks here may prove more fruitful to prevent further trouble to you both."
"She... Is when you delight in misfortune, yours or anothers. She is suffering, she is pain and paranoia. She is madness and death."
"And you two are wed?"
"Why of course." She smiled "for without fear and suspicion and pain we do not learn. But that is enough questions, your time is short and you have so much love to give."
So did i return home, to Frederic. I returned every trinket to the families of the lost. I held them as they cried, I told them stories of their valor that they might be remembered for their greatest selves. I lived my life in accordance with the virtues Christ exemplified, I could far more easily see the parts written by man and those influenced by higher powers. Though perhaps I always could.
I loved without fear. I gave without suspicion. And even when I decried the actions of the church, those who wished to do me harm would flee before my very eyes. | Boulder sat on the edge of the creek, feet dangling lightly in the water as he stretched his toes, feeling the weight of the cool current in the afternoon sun. Behind him, taking the last of his armour off his legs, bridge moved to join the man on the creek bed. Sitting himself down, he continued the conversation that had taken up the most of their afternoons ride through the rocky pass and into the valley below.
"i am still a little unsure as to the actual occurrence of the day. This god. Was it literal or figurative? Did this god come down as lighting from the sky, walk across the grass, a hag cloaked in rock or ride a chariot?" There are so many stories of pagans we grew up on. Hammers and candles and blood for the blood god. What happened boulder. Why do we flee and who remains".
"That is the question. I know we keep coming around but i cannot tell you any more clearly. I cannot speak of fallacy. I cannot explain the nothingness of it. The undue pressure or the overall stupidity of a situation. We have been round and round and over and over what it means. They would not convert. Yield. Shit, i think they made some of us dumber for trying. They died and we survived but in its own way, it feels that to be left behind was to lose. At least, that is what they thought."
"So the nons. Wait, is it A non or just non?"
"A non can be both singular and collective"
"So they drank the pepper frog tea?"
"Yes, pepper the frog" "they drank it for chan?"
"yes, 4 chan"
"From the secret recipe handed down from the padlet"
&#x200B;
"Yes. The tea was their saviour. A secret recipe presented as their salvation. They drink the tea they meet their day et e"
Boulder cracked his neck and let out a sigh as he shuffled into the creek. Staring across the opposite bank, he dunked his head and held himself under the water for a moment. He came to the surface, breaking its tension and cackling into the sky. He turned around, looking at bridge, bringing his hands over his face and messing his hair.
"We speak of old gods now. Of tales found only in the deepest reaches of the drive-verse. The olds, they speak of Q and B. Of tards. Of Manson and Jones. They do not worship the common jobs and gates. They worship only trolls and the group. The olds despise each other and they trick together and they finally found a way to trick everyone. The news did not fight they just drank their green pepper frog drink and died screaming lol. But they did not understand"
"Wait so is the god the frog? The pepper frog god?"
"yes"
"and they drank the tea to meet their day et e?"
"yes"
"wait, how do you know all of this"
"Lol wut?" | 2021-02-10T03:53:37 | 2021-02-10T02:13:46 | 35 | 15 |
[WP] You have lived an unimpressive life, and died an unimpressive death. Surprisingly, Odin welcomes you into Valhalla, citing the many battles with depression you fought. | As Jose lay dying, darkness slowly crept in from the edges of his vision. He welcomed it. Jose's son started shouting for the nurse, squeezing his father's bony hand tighter. But there was no point. This was what Jose wanted. Faintly, he heard the machines by his bedside start to screech and beep. *Good*, he thought. *I'll all be over soon*.
When Jose took his final, ragged breath, blinding light burned away the darkness and illuminated the shabby little room he'd spent the last few weeks of his long, haggard life. The woman that descended from the light was an oil painting. Her armor glittered, as if dappled with sunshine. And her horse was pure titanium white, even its wings. She was divine. And, somehow, Jose knew she'd come for him.
The woman cradled Jose in her arms, and her smile split the clouds, revealing the dawn.
\*\*\*
When Jose awoke, he was laying in a field. He rolled over and pushed himself up and stopped. There was no pain. No fatigue. His hands weren't wasted and skeletal. He held them up to his face. They were dark and strong and … young.
"Good," rumbled a voice like rocks tumbling. "You're awake."
Jose turned and found a man standing in the field with him. His beard came down to his chest and was gray and braided in places. He leaned on a gnarled wooden staff and wore a cracked leather patch over one of his eyes.
"Who are you? Where am I?" Jose asked. Towers rose in the distance, nothing like the New York City skyline. These towers were gilded and spiraled and, even from this distance, hummed.
"I go by many names," said the old man. "Spearman, Lord of the Undead, The Wanderer, The One Who is Many, God of the Hanged, The One Eyed Raven God, Terrible One, The All-Father, Wednesday … but you may call me Odin."
"Oh," said Jose. "I see. I thought I'd have my life flash before my eyes, but this seems better."
"You are not dying, Jose Shadowbane. You stand outside the Halls of Valhalla."
Jose barked a laugh. "First of all, I'm no Viking. My last name's Ortiz. And second, I'm -- was Catholic. I'm supposed to be in purgatory."
Odin stumped forward. "Viking is not a race, Shadowbane. It is an identity. And not to worry. Lamb's Blood is here as well. All who fall in battle are welcome, as my children."
"Battle? Alright, I think I've heard enough. Which way is purgatory? You know what -- never mind."
Jose turned to walk away but the old man, Odin, appeared there before him. Jose turned again, and there he was.
"You are welcome here, son," said Odin. "But I will not force you. There are no slaves in Valhalla."
"Enough with the Viking stuff!" Jose shouted. "I'm not a warrior. I've never swung a sword in my life. Only paint brushes." He looked down. "And bottles."
"Not every battlefield is a literal one--" Odin stroked his beard. "--some are a great deal more … nebulous."
"Oh fuck off. I'm not doing riddles."
Odin smiled sadly. "Your battle happened every day, Shadowbane, here--" He pointed to his heart. "--and here--" He pointed to his head. "Not even the Thunderer could hope to vanquish such a foe easily. Do you understand?"
"You--you're talking about my depression?" Anger shook him clear to his marrow. "How *dare* you make light of my suffering. My pain! You know nothing! Every day I woke up and clawed my way through a calcified wall of shame and guilt and regret. Some days I couldn't eat. Couldn't move. Couldn't tell my son I loved him. I drank myself into a hole for years. I--" He was crying now. "I'm not a warrior. I'm done."
Odin nodded knowingly. "But you fought, Shadowbane. You fought a battle that could not be won, for there was no foe to slay. You fought a battle that could only be survived. There is great honor in such a feat."
Jose laughed bitterly. "Survived? I asked my son to pull the plug. I made my boy put his father down like a lame horse and I was glad. And not because of the cancer, but because I couldn't finally, finally stop fighting. I gave up. Where's the honor in that, *Odin*?"
Odin stumped closer and placed a hand on Jose's shoulder. He flinched, and Odin pulled his hand back. "Yes, you chose death. But you spared your boy the pain of watching his father waste away. You chose mercy. I do not know if I could have done the same, Shadowbane."
Jose looked up and stared into Odin's face. His one eye glittered, tearing up. Jose's shoulders slumped, and he said, "I didn't win."
"But you fought. You fought. And so, I welcome you, my son."
Jose and Odin walked through the lush grass toward the towering doors of the Shining Hall. Outside, warriors trained, sparring with sword and shield. Inside, they drank and ate at long tables stretching impossibly long. Odin told him it was time to get dressed. Jose expected chainmail or something *Lord of the Ringsy*. Instead, he was given a simple tunic and comfortable shoes. Then they walked down a corridor and stopped in front of a door.
"What's in there?" Jose asked.
"Your battleground," Odin said, and opened the door.
Inside was a circle of wooden chairs. And in each chair sat a warrior. They were of all ages, races, faces. In one of the chairs, sat a massive man with fiery red hair. He had a look in his eyes that Jose had seen in the mirror far too many times. A hollow, haggard dejection.
One of the warriors, a dark-skinned man with the warmest smile Jose had ever seen, nodded to Odin and ushered Jose inside. Jose sat in an empty chair and watched. The warriors took turns introducing themselves and speaking not about battle or glory, but about things Jose understood. The darkness. The pain. The guilt. Even Thor. After a while, the room seemed to brighten, if only a bit. It was enough.
And when it was his turn, he spoke. "Hello. My name is Jose … Shadowbane." | (1/2)
The scenery I found myself suddenly gawking at came right out of a dream. Wispy clouds floated against the backdrop of an endless azure and reflected the sun’s soothing rays across the landscape. But was I dreaming? I don’t remember falling asleep… My body, my memories, even my emotions… Everything felt so hazy and uncertain. The only constant and tangible construct within this foggy state was the grand structure jutting out of a gigantic mountain formation. Tall spires extended high into range of the clouds and were decorated with armoured women donning winged helmets, posing valiantly. Either side of the grand doors stood gargantuan statues of iron-clad warriors, swords gripped at the hilt with the blade pointing to the ground. Thoughts of just how anyone or anything could create something of this size added to my overall confusion. What I was experiencing was something beyond awe or marvel; any structure ever created by man was easily eclipsed by the intricate and grand architecture present here. The wonders of the modern or ancient world could only hope to compare to whatever this place was.
The rumbling beneath my feet briefly tore my attention away from mindlessly ogling. These vibrations resonated through my very being, akin to the feeling of heavy bass reverberating through one’s chest, albeit this was somehow *deeper*. I looked up once again to find those colossal doors slowly opening. Before I could even process why this was suddenly happening, I found myself instantly warped to the foot of them. Did I do this? Why me? How?
“It rattles you to the core, doesn’t it? I must say… It never ceases to amaze me.” spoke a soothing baritone voice, almost instantly nurturing the panic in my chest.
I snapped my head to my right, eyes meeting with obsidian armour, accented shimmering gold. I then had to step back and peer up with my jaw hanging at my feet to take in the sheer size of this being. A mature-looking man with an eerily divine youthfulness about him stood with folded arms, golden eyes locked onto the widening stone doors and twinkling with power, his silvery-white shoulder-length hair flowing in the subtle breeze. Merely standing in his presence made me feel green with envy, minuscule, undermined, ashamed, starstruck, filled with hope, and utterly bewildered. Never had I ever experienced such a cocktail of opposing emotions.
“You’re not dreaming, dear maiden. This is real. You’re finally alive now.” he stated now facing me, his words poised as if he could hear and sort through my thoughts and inner emotions even before I could. His eyes were rimmed with dark lines and gave the impression that he was wearing eyeliner.
“I… I don’t belong here…” I replied with eyes averting his powerful gaze, defaulting to look at the floor just as I always had.
A place like this was too brilliant–too radiant for a run-of-the-mill lass like me. Heck, I was even jealous of this man’s beauty. I could still feel his eyes on me. Somehow, the inadequacy racking my brain was overpowered by the shame I would potentially feel for not embracing this moment in its entirety; I mustered the courage to find his line of sight once again. And to my surprise, he smiled warmly. Not the fake smiles of reassurance I’d gotten used to seeing, but a sincere and knowing smile.
“That right there is exactly why.” coyly stated the approaching male, his overall size decreasing with every step until the height difference was considered normal. Standing at 5’6”, I’d estimate he was now no taller than 6’2” if my frazzled mind could compare accurately in the moment.
“Of course you belong here, I called for you. Are you saying I’m a poor judge of character?” he chimed, voice light and friendly. “Walk with me, Sera.” His steps softly pounded against the stone, heading for the steps to enter the grand hall.
Without even thinking my feet followed to briskly catch up and walk by his side. I couldn’t help but peer up and stare at his mysterious brilliance, almost tripping when the steps suddenly appeared at my feet. “W-Where are we…?”
“Valhalla, Hall of the Slain.” he answered nonchalantly, his effortless strides carrying him up the steps and into the vast interior of the hall. Meanwhile, I had to enter a brisk jog to get through this miniature trial.
The ceiling was partially translucent: sunbeams shone down through to illuminate rows of great statues on either side of the red-carpeted path down the middle. Many little blue orbs of light danced around individual statues, varying in size, number, and luster. Every new encounter in this place raised a set of questions, questions that I had no time to process or begin to utter. I didn’t have the gall for that.
“You’re… kidding. So, what? You must be Odin or something? Now I know this is a dre-”
“I am.” his voice calmly interjected while he marched on ahead. That’s all it took for my smart mouth to stop dead in its tracks, and apparently my feet too.
Odin, now several feet in front, also stopped to turn and face me. Without a single word he just looked and waited. No animosity, no disappointment, no… nothing. He just waited. All the routine thoughts and swirling emotions present at the beginning of my fairly frequent panic attacks began to gather, my chest tightening to make breathing seem impossible. I hated this. It never got any easier. This time it was different; it was as if these negative feelings of old were fleeting–they had nothing to latch onto, my body ethereal. To my great surprise, they faded just as quickly as they arrived. My eyes instinctively flickered up to my guide, Odin, finding him giving me that same smile as before. | 2022-05-28T09:43:30 | 2022-05-28T06:39:39 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] It turns out humanity was the first, and only spacefaring species to master the atom. After a horrific galactic war, humanity had to bring out its nuclear weapons, to the shock and horror of the rest of the galaxy. | “Obliterated? OBLITERATED? WHAT DO YOU MEAN OBLITERATED?!?”
The General seemed as if ready to shoot the captain for his own failures.
“W-well, as you may remember, after the failing of [the infraorange and ultrablue stealth ships](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/djlyiz/wp_an_alien_general_is_baffled_that_their_state/f46udyb/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf), you got angry and-“
“ANGRY? I’M NEVER ANGRY!” General Baz-Nak interrupted, “NOW WHAT IS YOUR POINT?”
Jien-Hof recoiled at the interruption, then sighed at the General’s usual behaviors. “You had more capital-class ships built and ordered us to glass one of their bases, out in the helix nebula. All that went according to plan.”
The General looked at Jien-Hof with focused eyes, taking what he thought were compliments for his strategy with a straight face, nodding.
“What DIDN’T go according to plan was when you got overconfident and ordered us to glass their home world. As I had predicted, they had figured out our weakness in not being able to view Ultraorange and made targeting mines to take down our shields.”
“Now listen here-“ the General tried to say.
Jien-Hof gave him no time to interrupt. “What I hadn’t predicted was the torpedoes they fired, drilling into our ships and ripping them apart, atom by atom. When I contacted you, you had the *bright idea* to have us land instead, saying, and I quote, ‘Our continued push will strike fear into them, and then after we will cut them to pieces with our laser and plasma tech!’. Now sir, I don’t mean to criticize, but THAT WAS A BLRKING STUPID PLAN!”
General Baz-Nak was now to one recoiling, his tail seeming to try to contract into his body.
“When we landed, IT WAS EVEN WORSE! Where as they before needed to strip our shields and drill into us, they simply fired a missile and, when hitting, the gas in the air expanded and VAPORIZED THE SHIP HIT. To make things worse, other ships inside the blast radius that were outside this vaporization zone got hit still, but those inside survived.” Jien explained to the general, and look of anger present in his eyes.
“They survived, that’s good right?”
Jien started laughing a manic laugh. “Ha! No. They got the worst of it! The survivors are now sitting in infirmaries, telling their families goodbye through leadened windows, covered in cancers few could imagine! They have radiation sickness! The chances for many of them are a hundred to one!”
The General now had a look of guilt, anger, and surprise going on all at once.
“The worst part? ONCE AGAIN, I WAS THE SURVIVOR! MY SHIP AND HER CREW WAS THE ONLY ONE FAR ENOUGH AWAY TO ESCAPE THOSE HORRORS! All we got hit with was a BOOM OF AIR SO POWERFUL THAT THE NEARBY TREES WHERE RIPPED APART AND LIT ON FIRE IN MERE SECONDS!”
General Baz-Nak waited a moment to check that the Captain’s speech was over. “You done?”
Jien-Hof regained his composure. “Yes sir.”
Baz-Nak looked at Jien-Hof with a calm look for a moment. “I want you to report to the psych ward, have a banana, and kindly BLRK OFF while I come up with a new plan.”
Jien-Hof looked at Baz-Nak with a stone-cold face. “Yes Sir.”
__________________________________________________
r/Jedinate6Writes | The battle was over faster than it had escalated, with all of humanity staring on with smug satisfaction. They may not be the most intelligent, advanced, or tactical species in the universe, but they were most definitely considered the deadliest.
This was not something they would be proud of for long No sooner did the initial wave of death blow through space in a shower of cosmic radiation, did their allies and enemies contact them. It ranged from anger to downright hostile remarks.
Those that had been allied for decades prior were calling for what amounted to genocide of the Terran species. No matter how they defended their actions, threatened to do more, and pleaded to be heard, it seemed as if the whole of the universe had witnessed a horror that should not exist. No...The Terrans had no more say in the Universal Council. The treaties had been completely nullified, forgotten, and even used as reasons to declare a unified front against the species as a whole.
It was not long after their first bombardment of what they considered "Nuclear Supremacy" that they were marked for an execution. Among themselves, the other species gathered and signed their own peace treaties. The Terran's desire to end the war between the races among the universe had succeeded. The only problem was that it had turned them all into a unified, unstoppable tidal wave of death and chaos; directed purely at the Terran race itself.
It took thousands of years for them to reach such an advanced state. It took a mere 20 to decimate them back into the stone age. Their technology was sealed, studied, and promptly erased from existence. The last sound any Terran made, was a strangled cry for help, to understand why they were being killed. It was met with a harsh, loud pulse of electromagnetic deharmonization. This followed by a sickening silence as the multicolored mist of atoms, which were no longer held together by their natural force, drifted apart in a cloud of death.
It was another decade before it was discussed what the evil race had done, along with a cautionary tale to the scientists around the universe to remember what morals to abide by.
While those of the Terran race had dared to manipulate and master the atom, they had failed to realize and identify that each atom was its own life form. Each atom was infinitely scaling to be its own micro universe, and because other races had found this out, they had theorized that we too were only atoms in some other, vaster universe.
The fear that the Terran people had caused, and subsequently failed to understand, was that we might be split and annihilated at any given moment, just as they had done to those poor universes before.
///End Lesson: Rise and fall of the Terran Dictatorship, Era 55 of the Great Galactic Conglomeration
///Universal History, Volume 553
///Goodbye
///Would you like to know more?
&#x200B;
///Yes ///No | 2019-12-19T04:17:42 | 2019-12-19T04:11:54 | 83 | 13 |
[WP] You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal. | I married Sandra in a lovely ceremony on the grounds of my elegant mansion, on the side without the graveyard. The sun was bright, and people smiled and everything seemed to finally be lining up for her, at least as far as love goes. I probably should have asked more questions before then. What was she doing at the ball that evening we met, dateless and definitely not of the right social class? What was up with that assortment of engagement rings she had in a jewelry box, each with a bigger diamond than the last? I was just loving it. I didn't ask any questions. I didn't want to scare her away, but I knew she was a gold digger if I had ever seen one.
I noticed her attitude toward me change soon after we wed and she dropped the little romantic facade she had been putting up. Little things, at first. She would leave shoes spread out in our bedroom, knowing that I get up before her and avoid turning the light on. I tripped over them more than once. Another time she jokingly pushed me towards the busy boulevard as we strolled down a busy city sidewalk. I caught myself, and she played it off as a joke. Funny enough, considering I survived. Poisoning my food? That was taking it a little too far and my patience was running thin. Jeremiah - I think he was my forty-fifth butler - pointed out to me the little vial he had found hidden in her drawers. I shrugged it off. What was the bother if it didn't affect me? I was just counting her attempts and wondering if she would get the hint.
You see, I've been married before. Many times, in fact. I get a little more involved than I should, just because I miss the way it used to be. They fall for the money and the unfathomable wealth I've accumulated in the centuries I've lived. Soon enough, they start plotting ways to eliminate me. Some are creative. I've had toasters thrown into the hot tub. I've been run over by cars. Some are more subtle, like Sandra. She wasn't coming after me with a baseball bat or a machete. She was sneaky, or at least she thought so.
You may have misunderstood and thought I was implying that I loved her. I don't. I have always known what she was after. I just love the little games we play. I love seeing her squirm uncomfortably as we stroll through the graveyard. She doesn't know that it brings back fond memories and makes me look forward to where she might one day lay. I love seeing the shock on her face when I down the poison and don't even blink. I love seeing the fear when I get up with my head beat in and it begins to heal before their eyes. I love to see how far they will take it before giving up, or if they're determined enough to never stop. Eventually, I'm sure I'll find the right one. Somebody who gives me a real challenge and a little bit of excitement to break the monotony of a thousand wives.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | Well, this should be interesting. I knew she’d been building up to this for months and tonight it finally happened. When I stepped away from dinner for a minute I saw her slip something into my drink. God knows what it was, but I'm convinced it has a lethal kick, otherwise why would she bother. The question is, has she done this before and I haven't noticed? If that's the case, there must be enough in there right now to kill a rhino -- god, I can't wait to see the look on her face when I breeze through the rest of dinner and into the evening completely and totally unscathed.
Maybe what I'm doing is mean or cruel, I don't know. Either way, this woman just tried to kill me, and maybe not for the first time; surely that relieves me of some of this stress I'm feeling for not being completely honest with her. I assume she's after my money. After all, how many 24 year old girls seek out a 54 year old man in a club? Better still, how many seek them out and then proceed to hang off their every word, even when topics like the stock market and pharmaceuticals arise? I guess I fell for it, so it's not like I don't deserve this. Still, I can't help but feel as though she got the best of me here, and I didn't become a billionaire several times over just to lose half of it after a few sips of that cheap red wine she likes to push on me.
The more I think about this, the more it bugs me. I may not act on this impulse anytime soon, but an idea just occurred to me and I feel I should at least let it stretch its legs a bit. I'm immortal, she is not. What if we were both involved in a tragic accident -- one where she dies and I, through an act of god -- at least that's how everyone would see it -- survive? A helicopter crash, a car accident, a carbon monoxide leak in our home. Yes, any one of those would be fatal to her but not to me.
In any event, I'm currently not looking to act on this. Let's just see how the evening unfolds when she discovers not even a glass full of poison can make me blink. | 2019-07-31T04:40:33 | 2019-07-31T04:32:10 | 5,488 | 156 |
[WP] Your power is the ability to "save game" at any point in your life allowing you to revert any previous state if something goes wrong. You never thought you would need to revert to age 3 to fix a problem until now. | The countless times I'd used the 'Return' function were usually only a day or a month back. Maybe I had to correct a mistake I'd made just a while back. But going back to the age of 3 of something I'd never expected. For one, ages less than 6 connotate childishness and the lack of maturity. My job and my powers were serious matters, not things that could be toyed with by a toddler. Moreover, my childhood was one... I would hate to return to. That time period was riddled with trauma and hate. But I trusted that I would remain in my same rational adult state when I reverted back to youth. I crossed my fingers, said my prayers and teleported.
Instantly the sight of that house choked me up. But a wave of disgust and resentment overtook any other emotion when I saw him. The terrorizer. The tormentor. The destroyer. I was so tempted to do it all again, to take the gun from his room for revenge, but those were the thoughts of a 3 year old. I was 34. I would have to live through it all, if I wanted to rid myself of the guilt and regret that plagued my adult years. Day after day, I clenched my teeth and withstood the torrents of abuse he threw at me. I counted down on my calendar, waiting for the fateful day. July 12th. Where my previous self committed juvenile murder.
At last, the day came. Uneventfully it encroached upon us, though I knew the outcome far better than he did. I remembered every single part of that day, from breakfast to our final heated conversation. But today's insults and threats were the worst yet. I could feel the anger boiling within me, like steam in a kettle, as I clenched my fists to relieve some of the hatred. But the hour of doom passed, without event, as I congratulated myself on a job well done. As I looked back now, at the figure of the middle-aged man that was my father, I started to feel something other than blind hatred. Some sympathy. He was what I would have become if I'd continued down my path of remorse. And suddenly, I began to understand him. But I couldn't comprehend his motive. Why would he terrorize an innocent child like me?
"Aldrich?" I heard the soothing coo of his voice. I hadn't heard that tone in many decades now, and the rememberance of our once happy relationship brought tears to my eyes. "Daddy just wants to say sorry. I love you so much," he said, his eyes too welling up with tears. I looked at him again, with confusion this time. Love wasn't translated into beatings and verbal abuse. But his love... when did it cease to be happy?
That night, I slept soundly, though I could feel a nameless dread tingling up my spine. Surely, what he said couldn't mean that...
My premonition, when the morning came, was accurate. His death came just one day late, by the same weapon, though the assailant differed. And as I mourned his death, for real this time, I knew that his love had never stopped. Just supressed by the demons inside. | My first ever save. I had many different save points, but I never thought it would come down to going back then. I had to prepare for it though. I had to make sure the world would be ready for what was going to come. I went into my closet, left the lights off, and willed myself back to that save point.
I opened my eyes. I was back. I was three years old, in my old bedroom, the night I figured out my powers. My head was throbbing, going back this far had given me a headache. I looked around, then remembered I didn't have a computer or phone. I was or am only three so I wouldn't have either of those. I slid off my bed, and went to my door. I was going to my father's computer, Hopefully he wouldn't be awake, so I could use the computer. I slowly opened the door and saw one of the lights on. I creeped towards the light, and saw that my parents door open. It was at the end of the hallway, so they wouldn't see me go downstairs. I creeped down the stairs, and creeped open my father's study/workspace. I saw his computer's light was on. I slowly closed the door, and turned the monitor on. I opened up chrome, and typed in nsa.gov. The login process was very long, and required the knowledge to login. I went to the Careers & Programs section on the website. I hit Inspect Element, and found the html for the footer. There was a link there for a website. That website was used to communicate with the NSA. I found the link, and hit the link. There was a login box. I entered in the information for the admin. The website unlocked, and I saw the different panes. I selected the messaging pane, and started looking for the head of the NSA. There was a code that only the head, and a select few would know. One that would indicate that aliens exist, Order 3005. And another that we should work together now, instead of starting wars, order 4311. I hit send. If the message was received, and the small group group got the message, the future we came from would not exist. We would be spared from the genocide that happens in the future. We would be spared from killing ourselves.
---
Check here for more soon: r/John_Reeves/ | 2017-09-10T16:08:18 | 2017-09-10T16:01:44 | 380 | 22 |
[WP] You're a recently retired supervillain, but all of the heroes keep attacking you, thinking you are up to something. | (I can't fucking believe this right now!) I thought staring at the Heroic Alliances "strike force" preparing to launch a surprise attack on my house, (I'm retired, how did they even find me). I debated weather or not to open the door, (like it was much of a choice, I can't really let them in). I open the door, step out onto the porch and quietly close it behind me. I crossed my arms, turned around, and was met by Invicta's sword at my throat already, (Nice to see she hasn't changed at all.) I thought.
"Why are you'll here?" I asked steadily.
"We are here to finally bring your plans to an end Damocles!" Scorch declared loudly. "We know you've been planning something, your steady decline in activity followed by your disappearance can only mean one-"
"I'm retired, now be quiet or leave." I interrupted.
The five of them stood in silence for a moment before Pacer cleared his throat. "Wait like, retired retired, like no more plans of revenge or global domination?"
(I never even planned for world domination, so was just roped into it!) I thought irritated. "Yes Pacer, I'm retired. As in I've gone straight." I stated.
This initiated another wave of silence. Invicta lowered her sword and slightly cocked her head, (Damn I forgot how cute it is when she does that.) I thought, suppressing a smile.
"How can we trust YOU of all people!?" Juggernaut demanded, surprisingly quiet.
"Becau-"
"MOMMA DON'T GO!" A voice cried from upstairs.
I didn't waste a moment as I spun around and threw open the door, dashing up the stairs to my daughter's room. The Alliance's strike team followed me, undoubtedly thinking I was lying all along, but I didn't care. I opened her to see her sitting up in the fetal position crying, I entered causing her to look up and hold out her arms for me to pick her up. I did so, holding her close (this was a bad one.)
"Dad, why did she have to go, why did she have to stop uncle Juton, IT'S NOT FAIR DADDY , IT'S NOT FAIR!" She cried.
"I know sweetie, I know." I said, trying to keep my emotions level.
I stood there holding my crying daughter as the heroes entered the room.
"That's it Da-" was all Invicta managed to say before she saw me holding my daughter.
I turned and gave them a stern look before pulling my daughter away just enough to see her face. Her eyes were dreadfully red and puffy. "Hey Alyssa, you want to eat some ice cream and watch Treasure Planet downstairs with me?" I asked softly.
She sobbed a few seconds more before dragging a ragged breath, "Yes please." She choked.
I gave her a soft smile, "just a quick question, who was your favorite hero in the Alliance?" I asked, knowing exactly what she would say.
"Invicta." She sobbed quietly, calming down some more.
I didn't say anything while I turned a little so she could see the heroes behind me. Her face lit up immediately, (thank God, it kills me seeing her that upset) I though slightly relieved, and slightly amused given the heroes reactions. They didn't say a word as I took Alyssa out of the room and down the stairs. I took her into the kitchen and sat her down at the table while I opened the freezer. I knew the heroes entered the kitchen because of Alyssa's excited humming.
"What ice cream do you want sweety?" I asked.
"Can I have moose tracks please?" She asked back.
"Sure thing, what about you guys, you want any ice cream?" I asked, fairly certain they would refuse.
"Uh... You got any mint chocolate chip?" Pacer asked
"I'll have strawberry if that's alright." Juggernaut said, as if he was slightly excited.
I pulled the tubs out and set them on the counter, "what about you three?" I ask, gesturing towards Invicta, Scorch, and Trigger, who had been uncharacteristically quiet the entire time.
"I uh, guess cookie dough if you have any." Pacer said slowly.
"I'll take vanilla I guess." Trigger said in her typical jonty tone.
"Chocolate please." Came Invicta's voice.
I pulled those three out and grabbed my death by chocolate ice cream, then closed the freezer lid. I grabbed seven bowls, made everyone a bowl of ice cream and went into the living room, followed closely by everyone else. We all sat down on my L couch, Alyssa sat right next to Invicta while the others sat on the other side of Invicta, and I sat next to Alyssa. I grabbed the remote and put on Treasure Planet.
We watched in relative silence. Past halfway through the movie I looked over and saw Alyssa, asleep, leaning against Invicta. I gently took her bowl and stood.
"Anyone want more or are you all done?" I asked quietly.
They shook their heads as I started taking their bowls, Trigger helped collect some and we took them to the sink.
"I hope you know that we are gonna want an explanation." She said uncharacteristically soft.
I nodded and we returned to the movie. Once it was finished, I went to gently gab Alyssa and take her up stairs to her bed, but Invicta had already beaten me to it. She quietly picked her up and followed me to Alyssa's room, laying her down and covering her up. We left the room and returned downstairs, I sat in my recliner this time while Invicta sat back on the couch. | I sit nervously in the interrogation room. My hands are chained, I insisted on that point, placed behind my back. Mindtruder joins Purge and I. "Warper, this isn't going to be easy. It never is. You'll need to focus as well, otherwise you may instinctively trigger your powers. I feel it's vital that we take no chances. I've seen difficult situations before." She steps aside, holding the door open. A trembling, terrified Barrel walks in.
"Barrel? What are YOU *doing* here?" Purge starts charging her powers.
Mindtruder calms her down. "Purge, it's ok. I have it under control. He wouldn't DARE try anything." She narrows her eyes at Barrel. "Right?"
Barrel nods. "I'm just here in case Warper freaks out."
Mindtruder sits opposite me. "Purge, if you would..."
Purge removes the helmet that was blocking my powers. The door is forced open, and we all look as Connor, along with Katie, enters. "We're just in time! Katie was desperate to be here!" Connor announces.
Katie walks over. "You'll be fine, Regole. I'm here."
Purge grunts at her. "He had me."
"Purge" Mindtruder interjects. "Katie and Warper have an understanding between each other, due to how similar their circumstances are. No need to get jealous." My mind goes hazy for a moment as Mindtruder uses her powers.
**INSIDE WARPER'S MIND**
The imagery feels so real... it's like I'm ACTUALLY in a cottage on a quiet lane... after my relapse, I had to retire... for everyone's safety... I was no longer a warm, friendly face helping people... I became known as 'The Slave Master', after letting greed get the better of me. I just want to escape my past... my old life...
"SLAVE MASTER!" a voice yells. I whip around. Morpha is there.
"Morpha, I gave that up. I'm nothing now. I just want-"
"SHUT UP! I LISTENED TO YOU! I TRUSTED YOU! WE ALL DID!"
"We?" I glance around. I'm surrounded by all the member of the Rehabilitation Foundation. All now considered heroes. "I... I never wanted-"
"I should never have joined you, you monster! I actually *loved* you!" Purge begins weeping.
I'm a monster... why did I betray everyone? For riches and wealth? It wasn't worth it...
Nothing can make up for what I've done... not even death...
**OUTSIDE WARPER'S MIND**
I gasp. "I'm horrible... absolutely vile..."
I can barely register anything, but I notice Mindtruder walk up to Purge. Purge nods, walks over to me, and gives me a deep kiss. I try to pull away, terrified, but she won't let me. She keeps our mouths locked together, inserting her tongue past my lips. I succumb, and reciprocate. After a moment, she lets go. "Warper, you're not a monster. You never have been. You never will be." She strokes my cheek, stopping her finger on my shoulder. A warmth emanates from her hand.
I can feel my face flushed, tears rolling down my cheeks. I unlock my cuffs using my powers, stand up, and pull Purge into an embrace. "Do you mean it?"
"Of course." She looks at me, smiling. "You need a break from here. Let's go somewhere together. Let Mintruder take care of things for now."
Still flustered, but feeling a sense of relief, I nod. I have a think, then smile. I look at Barrel. "You'll be assisting Mindtruder. Don't let me down."
Katie comes over and gives me a quick hug. "You'll be ok, Regole. Just relax and enjoy yourself! You too, Purge!"
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This story is a part of my series, [It's Not Just Business.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/xoduo6/its_not_just_business/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out! | 2022-12-20T20:08:26 | 2022-12-20T08:59:42 | 35 | 17 |
[WP] The villain scoffed "You really think you can win? The prophecy was very clear that no-one can defeat me." The hero replied "Exactly." before their voice shifted to sound like a completely different person "We are not... one." | "If you truly wish to die, I will oblige you." Lord Caldomus said as he rose from his throne. "But you should know I am unbeatable. The prophecy was quite clear on this. No one can defeat me."
&#x200B;
"Exactly." The young man said drawing his paired war hatchets and settling into a fighting stance. His voice had an odd quality to it, as if half a dozen men were speaking at once. "*We* are not one."
&#x200B;
Caldomus paused, contemplating the young man's words and his unnatural voice. "You've soul bound yourselves to one body, haven't you." It was more a statement than a question.
&#x200B;
The young man nodded. "We have. Do *you* still wish to fight?"
&#x200B;
After a long moment of contemplation, Caldomus unbuckled his sword belt and propped the still-scabbarded weapon against his throne. He then removed his crown and tossed it to the young man. "Castle's yours. The Major-Domo's quarters are the third door on the left down the corridor behind the throne. Show him the crown and sword to prove you have ownership now and he'll teach you everything you need to know. Be a Dark Lord, be a hermit, I don't care. I'm going south and I am going to open a tavern. Always wanted to be a bartender."
&#x200B;
With that, Caldomus nodded to the new ruler of the *Blackspire* *Keep* and calmly walked away. | "Joe! David! I thought we agreed to just murder him and be done with this? No theatrics?" A third, definitely feminine voice chimed in from the hero.
"Debby!" The first 2 voices harmonized into a pleading tone, the first voice then continued alone "Just this once, let us have our fun!"
"No! You 2 are always messing everything up, and then when I try to ask you to act civilised, you always make me out to be the villain, even if the real villain is just feet away!" At this point, Debbie was practically seething at herself.
The villain then noticed he was just standing there dumbstruck, and decided to run. | 2021-02-28T22:59:01 | 2021-02-28T22:12:27 | 42 | 14 |
[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. | Mr. Winsel blinked. He was no longer in his clean, orderly office. He was in a dingy cave that smelled of mold and slime and... cave stuff. Candles surrounded him. The soles of his shoes rubbed against a hastily scribbled pentagram on the cave floor. A sorcerer, looking quite proud of himself, grinned cheerfully.
The middle aged, slightly obese, balding HR manager found himself at a loss. A goat was nibbling on a trouser leg. "What's going on?"
"Oh sorry about that. I was going to sacrifice it, but then the damn thing ran away and, well... I did try to catch it, of course, but I'm not exactly the most athletic person in the world, so I just did the ritual without the blood sacrifice."
Mr. Winsel blinked. His lumpy moustache, trimmed in the impression of a very melancholic slug, *twitched*. "And who are you? Where am I?"
"Ah, yes. You are in the overworld, my good demon, and I am the one who summoned you here," he grabbed Mr. Winsel's right shoulder in what he thought was an amiable manner. "We are going to do some great things together! Just you and me! Master and minion!"
"But, I'm not a demon."
"What?", the sorcerer did a double take. "Uh. You are from Hell, right?"
"I'm from Michigan."
"That's somewhere in Hell."
"No."
"Are you... certain?", the sorcerer flipped open a tome. "I am pretty certain I just opened a portal to Hell.
"Apparantly you didn't," Winsel sighed. "Now, please send me back. I have paperwork to do. Interviews to conduct. Not everyone has the luxury to traipse around in their pajamas, performing 'magic tricks'."
"What did you say? Look. I don't know where you come from, but magic is a highly respectable institution here. You can't just-"
Mr. Winsel took a very deep and noisy breath. "I want to see your manager."
"My manager? You mean the headmaster? I... He's not really supposed to know what I'm doing this. This is all very illegal and..."
Winsel grabbed the sorcerer by his flowing black robes. "Listen here, shithead. I don't know what drugs you had to inbibe to make you think that dressing up like a dutch midwife was a good idea, but if you don't stop jerking your goddamned 'magic wand' for five minutes and run to find your fucking manager, I will shit fury all over the pitiable little thing that is your life. ONE FUCKING PHONE CALL. One fucking phone call and I will have my fucking legal team plowing you in your little shitty fucking rear so hard that you'll be shitting out of a fucking mile wide hole in your goddamned fucking stomach! WHERE IS YOUR FUCKING MANAG-"
The sorcerer wiped the spittle off his face with a hankerchief as he stared at where Mr. Winsel had faded away into nothingness, restored to his own reality. He did not know what a 'legal team' was, but surely it was something dark and horrible. It was clear now that he had not summoned a minor demon as he had intended, but some sort of archdaemon of vast cunning and viciousness.
He took a brief look at the tome of ancient sitting on a nearby rock before setting it on fire with a fireball. Summoning demons was, decidedly, not a good idea.
| The room's runes glowed with such warding powers that the candles only served the purpose of spell ingredients. I paused the game, I was already at a pay point anyway having died multiple times because I needed the sword of Amecles to kill Hexigron and $3.99 was not in today's budget.
I made a step backwards in shock only to be thrown forward, a second bump on my forehead threw me back. I noticed the chaos symbol on the ceiling, it was surrounded by two vipers swallowing each others tails to make a circle.
The sound of louboutin's coming down announced her arrival, her skin almost radiated with her beauty. Enticing beauty, an attractiveness that seduced and corrupted all that stared at it for too long, the kind that would tempt a man to eat an apple he'd specifically been told not to by someone who could create galaxies.
"Victoorrrr...." she purred out. A finger ran across my shoulders, then down my spine.
"What do you want Lucy?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Not yet anyway, today I want to give you something."
"I'm not interested in what you're selling."
"Oh I'm sure you are, and would you turn around who gets summoned facing the wrong way?"
I spun to face an altar in front of it was a silver throne cast in the image of men kneeling. Lucy sat on the back of one, the armrests being the arms of two men standing.
"You're sure you wouldn't be interested in anything I have to offer?"
"I'm sure."
"Not even this?" she lifted up a small test tube, it glowed bright blue, the faces on her throne shifted their gaze as she waved it in the air. Even they knew what she held.
My mouth hung open. I could feel the essence calling me, pleading it needed to be back home. She flung it to the floor and as it shattered it made it's way to me. My lungs filled with life, cloudy eyesight cleared and my heart raced faster as she waved her hands and I found my self back in my apartment. The doorway to heaven started to form. At last my ascendance.
As I soaked it all in my back stiffened. She gave me something she knew I couldn't pay for. She was trying to get more than a favor from me. She was trying to earn loyalty. She would have to come calling some day. What scared Lucifer so badly she needed to make allies?
***
You can read more of my stories at /r/pagefighter.
| 2017-05-12T07:46:52 | 2017-05-12T07:44:27 | 1,871 | 81 |
[WP] World War 3 has begun, every nuke is being launched or dropped...they've sat in storage for so long that every single one was a dud. | October 23rd, 2027. The day the world was supposed to end.
Across the world, nuclear warheads from 5 different nations awoke from their cold slumber deep below the surface of earth and rose into the great blue at the same time. Millions panicked as these great weapons rose into the stratosphere, some programmed to detonated there to disable defense world-wide, some continued on their path of destruction.
Across the world, anarchy raged for 20 minutes, as the missiles launched and began hurtling towards their target. Hundreds died in that chaos alone. And on came the missiles still.
Across the world, people embraced their loved ones in their final moments, crying or praying to whatever god(s) they worshipped, hoping for a miracle. They knew they wouldn’t get one as the missiles flew closer, closer to their calculated targets.
And then, in the final moments before impact, there was peace. Total silence. People realized that there would be no more hate, no more wars, no more suffering. This was the end of violence. The missiles continued to rocket towards the ground.
And, in one worldwide motion, hundreds of missiles hit the ground, causing craters and destruction.
But not destruction of the expected scale.
After a few hours of confusion, people across the world came to the conclusion that something had gone wrong with the missiles. Not a single one had detonated. Not one.
This was it! There could be no more threats, no more wars! We could finally unify under one flag, after seeing how close we could come to destruction we could finally see how dangerous we could be. Now was the time for cooperation, a new era, scrapping the duds across the world for their uranium and metal.
However, leaders across the world had other plans. They saw this as a missed opportunity to wipe their rivals from the surface of the earth. The elites and their personal armies rallied and prepared for war.
The nukes didn’t end the world, but the following years of war did.
| "Oh my God no!" Jake shouts at the TV.
The newscaster on the screen can hardly contain her emotion. Tears rolling out of her eyes, she informs the world that all of the nuclear bombs had some sort of malfunction. Not a single one detonated.
Clutching his head in his hands tears stream down his face. Megan, also hearing the news, begins to hyper ventilate.
"Oh my god!" She screams over and over again, until her voice is nothing more than a whisper.
In the floor above theirs the ground shook and a voice hollars out, "Jake! Megan! Holy S**T! Jake! Megan! did you see the news!".
Multiple footsteps could be heard slamming down the stairs. Bursting through the door, their dad jumps into the room with an ecstatic look on his face. It didn't last long however, as he stared at his two naked children sitting in the bed together. Turning white, he falls against the wall just as the mother enters the room.
"We're alive! she screams!" as she enters.
"Phil what are you doing did you tell them the ne..." She cuts of suddenly staring for what feels like hours.
"There isn't any condom..." she whispers as she faints and falls on top of Phil. | 2018-03-01T17:44:59 | 2018-03-01T15:56:23 | 206 | 153 |
[WP] You're a humble peasant who must fight off waves of adventurers who feel entitled to waltz into your house and loot whatever they please. You begin to kill the adventurers that enter your home, keeping their items. Over time, you accidentally become a major villain. | The Ranger held his sword aloft. It was bronze, dented and dull with use.
"Need'eth I a weapon more suited to my skill," he said, loudly and to no one in particular. "Might we loot'eth yonder ranch style home, perchance?"
The Healer leaned heavily upon his oaken staff. "Uh...no. No, I don't think we want to do that."
The great towering spires of Galabroth were visible in the near distance. The Ranger pointed towards the horizon. "But we near'eth the Dread Baron's foul estate. Ought'ent I to equip mineself with adequate weaponry before the coming battle?"
"You're not familiar with this neighborhood, are you?" asked the Mage, shifting her weighty tome from arm to arm.
The Ranger looked about. There was only the one house remaining. All the others had been ransacked, burned, and left to rot. "One might hardly call'eth this a neighborhood..."
"That's Dwayne's house," said Mage.
The Ranger blinked. "I..."
"*Dwayne*?" said the Healer, tapping his staff on the soft earth.
"Who might this *Dwayne* be?" asked the Ranger.
The Mage and Healer briefly locked eyes. The Mage blinked first.
"A normal enough guy," began the Mage, "*until* people like you started breaking into his house and taking his stuff."
"Some people don't like that," added the Healer. "Go figure."
"Dwayne started fighting back," said the Mage. "People didn't take him so seriously at first..."
"Sent in the weaklings," said the Healer. "Looking for some easy experience." He whistled. "Nothing comes easy with Dwayne, though."
The Ranger's eyes darted back and forth. His brow was almost obscenely furrowed. "It sound'eth as though you are saying naught but an ordinary man protects yonder ranch style home, and the assorted treasures within. Correct?"
"He *was* normal," said the Mage. "But... you know... people kept breaking in and he kept beatin' 'em, so..."
"And he took their stuff," said the Healer. "Who knows what he's got in there now? Golden lances... enchanted bows... swords made of meteorite... the works."
The Ranger held up a hand. "To clarify: naught but an ordinary man named Dwayne protects this meager bungalow, within'eth which is contained a veritable dragon's horde of invaluable weapons? And you suggest'eth that I refrain mineself from joining battle with this *Dwayne* because...?"
The Mage shook her head. "You got us. There's no good reason a 2nd level ranger with a starter sword and absolutely no armor should have any problems with *Dwayne*."
"Please forgive our cowardice," said the Healer. "We'll just wait outside for you."
"Do'eth just that," sniffed the Ranger, brandishing his tea-colored blade. "And mayhaps thou might'eth think long and hard about thine failings as adventurers and heroes. You shame'eth thine professions."
With this last admonishment, the Ranger disappeared into Dwayne's house. The Mage and the Healer waited together in the middle of the road.
"Should we go back and pick up another ranger?" said Healer, as the very earth began to vibrate and the air was pierced with the sound of a man's terrified shriek. "Maybe a barbarian this time?"
The Mage laughed. "Do monks talk?"
"Not traditionally, no."
The little ranch style house shook with the force of a small explosion. A cloud of black-winged angels escaped through the cracks in the window frames.
"One of those, then," said the Mage. "Or... I mean... we could just go on by ourselves."
The Healer smiled, thumping his staff three times upon the ground. "I like that! I like that quite a lot."
They shook on it, then turned on their heels and made their way towards Galabroth. Neither looked back as the door to the little house flew open and Dwayne - poor Dwayne - stomped out, clutching a shovel in his hands and muttering blue curses beneath his breath. | The familiar sound of leather boots stomping outside of the thin yet study walls of my home causes me to bolt upright in bed, I wait in silence as I hear the sound of *something* harvesting the crops that rest along side of my property. The sound of the gathering ends abruptly then there is nothing but;
&nbsp;
**Silence**
&nbsp;
Then I hear it, the familiar sound of someone fiddling with my lock, I slide out of bed and grab the pitchfork that rests near my wall, the tool that earned me the title of farmer. Silently I creep to the large cupboard that hosted tools before they had been stolen or rather "Looted" as the wave of wet behind the ears adventures tend to say. Silently I pull the doors apart before standing inside, my pitchfork at the ready, I pull them closed in front of me and wait, the slightly gap allowing me vision directly in front of me, my view being the chest that laid alone in my house.
&nbsp;
*Silence*. Then,^Tink^Tink **CRACK**
&nbsp;
Another wooden door, gone. I didn't live too far from the main city, the adventures who came through here experienced a few hard ships but they didn't have all the skills needed, another one got tired of lock picks and simply decided to break the door. A thought crosses my mind. "I can't fault him for that however; it is quicker." Soon the adventure spots the chest and scurries over to it, I notice his attire first.
&nbsp;
"Leather, hes a shifty type...not much of a rogue." I was more than fed up with this, I knew how they behaved, once by treasure they seemed to ignore everything around them, this was my chance...**BOOM** I burst through the door of the cupboard pitchfork tightly gripped in my left hand as I charged the man with his back turned to me, the prongs of the pitchfork pierce the leather easily, driving into the intruders body with a frightening scream following directly after...the man was light, so was his armor, I had enough strength to finish him off.
&nbsp;
I ripped the pitchfork from his wound as he turned around to face me, I knew all it took was one more push for him to fall and that was what I did, in the most anti climactic kill ever heard of, I followed the surprise attack with a weak jab to the to the mouth of the former adventurer. His body fell, it dropped straight down as if he was nothing but a rag doll, I had won.
&nbsp;
I looked around now realizing what I had done, I quickly turned to close the door before realizing he had smashed it to pieces, I sighed before glancing over my shoulder back down at the body of the man, I trotted over to him and quickly ransacked his bag and clothing, finding money and items galore, as well as the food I had planted weeks ago. "Thief" I muttered, as i tossed all the items into the chest before stopping at a a dagger the man carried, this was to be my first real weapon and I would tolerate no more raiding from so called "Heros".
(My first story, it was actually fun to write, I should do this more often.) | 2017-02-02T20:34:37 | 2017-02-02T20:11:45 | 559 | 53 |
[WP]: A caterpillar has no idea it will become a butterfly, it simply has instincts that commands to start building a coccoon. In a similar fashion, you have no idea why you are compelled to start digging this really, really deep hole, but it feels verry important. | “Marius, stop this!
Please!”
Half whispered memories floated by. My Wife was shouting at me again. People were gathering at the edges of my vision, whispering and pointing. They came and went, and so did the minutes, the hours, the days.
It didn’t matter. They didn’t understand. The ground had such wonders to show us. We had snuffed it was concrete and steel and tar, smothered Mother and her gentle tales. It was crying out to us, couldn’t they hear? The song, the baleful song, it won’t won’t it won’t stop please just stop it stop please
I gazed at my cracked, bleeding hands, blessed dirt filling every pore, every crack. The blood mingled here and there with the black loam, cuts and bruises coloured brown with clay and mud. I realised it was night. I looked up, and saw a piece of the sky, Stars arrayed like shining points of wonder. The moon cast a ray of silver light. It’s face was shrouded in Earth’s Shadow, only the barest alabaster Light, shone from a slim crescent, and touched my cheek. Then a cloud moved past it, obscuring it from view, and I was in the darkness again.
The Greeks called her GAIA, blessed Terra. The Mesopotamians, Kishar, the Mari, Mlande. I heard her aria, her mournful song. Quiet, gnawing, haunting at the back of my mind. I could not think of anything else.
I was aware that I could no longer feel the sun now. Three days, I think. Yes, three days. I could feel myself growing weak. Now my hands trembled, my throat burned in thirst. I no longer produced sweat. A movement caught my glance. A slim worm, slithered into my crevice, twirling and dancing like a blind snake. I could feel the rhythm now, it thrummed in me, chords of power vibrating through every bone in my body. Like a madman, I scooped up handfuls of soil and shoved them down my throat.
Hungry. So hungry. I no longer used my hands. Thrusting my face against the cool soil, I ate and ate and ate. And in bliss and ecstasy known only by the mad and demented. I returned to the earth.
Why does do creatures hunt? Why do they kill? Why do they climb and fly and sing? It is their nature. We are born from the dust of the world. It is only our nature to return to it. Come, my Friend. Let us go back to our roots. | My eyes flashed open, observing only the darkness of the night. I rolled over lazily before jolting upright, inspiration flowing through me.
"Babe, I need to dig a hole," I murmured confidently. He stirred, but didn't wake. I decided to allow him to rest.
The urge struck me once again, more suddenly this time. I left the covers of the sheets and descended the stairs before leaving the house and digging.
It took the gradual shifting of shadows to bring a shovel to my attention, allowing me aid in my task.
The sun was high in the sky, and myself low in the ground, before my husband noticed my absence. He joked at first when he spoke from the top of the hole, but became increasingly worried the further I dug. I attempted to reassure him despite my powerless breath, but he never seemed convinced.
I should've listened to him when he said I should come out.
The sky appeared as a crimson sun in the hole, deep enough to fit my vertical body twice over. The need for sustenance had overtaken the need to dig, and I began to scale the walls of the tunnel to fulfill my need.
I should've have left when I had the chance.
Small streams of crumbling dirt should have been the warning signs. The flimsy handholds shattering and sending my to the bottom of my tomb were too predictable to previously account for, yet too obscure to note in a frenzy of exhaustion.
The dirt fell in large clumps. The first trapped my legs. The next trapped my waist and arms. The third immobilized me to the neck. The fourth covered the last of my body. The final prevented me from being found in time.
As the saying goes, "You've dug your own grave. Now lay in it". | 2018-10-10T08:12:19 | 2018-10-10T06:53:49 | 150 | 52 |
[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/_/ | It was finally the day, the day I'd bring home that absolute cutie from work and show her the glowing number 1 on my kitchen floor. it showed up one day, glowing there. even when I threw a carpet on it, it was still there. I had shrugged it off and went back to my toast.
"Okay, I know you said you had a glowing number 1 on your floor, but that is very clearly a two."
"SO? It's still a glowing number on the floor. Ain't that strange?
"Not really, have you seen some of the things on this earth?"
&#x200B;
Our first date had gone swell, and I could remember the outfit she was wearing with perfect clarity. Black stockings, black and white checkered skirt, white shirt, and black leather jacket. We went on many successive dates, and eventually moved in together. One day, the two changed to a four.
"Babe, Why's this a four?"
"It's good news! but you should probably sit down first." She whirled into the kitchen, dressed in a black and white outfit as usual. I sat down, nervous.
"Well?"
"Do you ever wonder why I only wear black and white?"
"Kinda, figured it was an aesthetic choice."
"It's not, let me show you." She... *shifted,* for nothing else described the way she moved. suddenly, the world changed to monochrome. My girlfriend was still there, but split into a white version, and a black version, like a photo negative.
"Ok, that's neat, but where's the four come from? there's three of us." Something moved in my peripheral vision. a duplicate of me, a negative version, for I had become all white, clothes and all.
my girlfriend(s) spoke up. "I'm an extradimensional entity, existing in three separate dimensions, positive space, the white version of me, and negative space, the black version. the third is the realm you formerly lived in. Now you experience reality as I do, across three dimensions. You're immortal now, and can travel through positive and negative space to other worlds, or different places here. Welcome to my world babe, happy anniversary!"
"HUH?" | I‘m already sitting! He shouted from the toilet.
No, come out here and take a seat, I think we have to talk about some things.
Babe, i feel like i‘m giving birth here. Can‘t that wait a few more minutes?
Ohh i swear to god you have no fucking clue what that means.
Yeah you think so? Do you want to come in and take a look at that thing i just made?
Noo thanks. but i think you... we made something different...
What do you mean? Finally he came out of the toilet and walked over to the kitchen.
she had imagined this moment in a different way...
Look at the number!
yeah i know a four.
Yes, no shit sherlock. and what does this number say?
it says how many people live in this house.
Well, aaaand?!?
Well, it says four. Last time i counted we were two, right?
Yeah, that’s right. What does the number mean Mason?
I think we got some new roommates. Maybe some raccons that live in the attic?
No, you dingus!
Hm. He stayed silent for a while. Well, in that case... i think... maybe...
We are pregnant!
Nah, then why the four and not ... three... Ohhhh
Yeah, Ohhh you are absolutely right | 2020-09-03T01:13:53 | 2020-09-03T00:49:34 | 156 | 69 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | Coyly, I looked into the two orbital sockets that I assumed Death used for sight. "Fine. But, I need 24 hours in this realm's time, a notebook, and a pencil to make my selection." Death's black hood dipped slightly in assent. "I also need you to leave during that time. When my time's up, I'll choose."
Death seemed still, almost contemplative. I puzzled whether the thing in front of me was, truely, the shepherd of my consciousness from the realm of mortality. Or, merely, some construction of an unseen entity used to resign me to my own demise. The scythe propped in the corner was a nice touch, until you realized the whole skull and cloak routine was all rather hammy. No accounting for taste, I guess.
The Grim Reaper approximated, what I assumed was, a shrug, handing me what I requested as if it always had them. When I looked up from them it was gone, scythe and all. I opened up the notebook to find two words were inscribed in the darkest of black inks.
**CHOOSE WISELY**
I laughed, tearing the sheet out and began to write. And, write. And, write.
By the time Death returned, the notebook had filled. It was tightly plotted, with characters and requested guests, treasures and shopkeepers, and quests. A skeletal hand reached for the notebook back.
"Oh, no." I said. The hand stopped. "We'll need this for the game I've chosen. We'll also need dice, and pencils." I tore two sheets from the back and handed them to the hooded avatar. "The rules for character creation are included on the sheet. You'll need to roll your stats and choose a name."
The skeletal being held the paper briefly and then placed it on the table. Some dice appeared in front of it.
"You'll hand those to me. One of these needs to be 20-sided, 5 -sided, and 3- sided, also." The dice moved and had reverted to my request once they reached me. I rolled a few and told Death how they affected who its character was. Diligently, it complied with every request. By the end, it had almost a totally realized character and was ready to purchase goods from the store. It sat, staring at me patiently.
"We can't proceed until you've chosen a name."
Death stared down at the paper, and stared, and stared. It started to write, but erased it almost immediately. The skeletal creature did this several times.
Suddenly, I woke up in my hospital bed moments later. I laughed until it hurt.
It turns out, Death, by its nature, wasn't very creative.
| “You got it?”
The question takes me off guard, I’m still trying to process this new info. The tall man with the black hooded cloak at the end of my bed tilted his head slightly, the scythe that rested in the crook of his arm caught the moonlight ominously.
“Sorry, this outfit does normally startles people. How’s this?”
His form shimmered and before me stood an old gentleman with immaculately manicured whiskers and a twinkle in His eye. His tweed suit with matching trilby in stark contrast to His previous outfit. He adjusted his grip on His suspiciously scythe-like curved cane.
“Ahh, less doom and gloom now. Gotta keep up appearances though,” He indicated His cane, ”So how’s that choice of game coming along?”
The question was delivered with considerably less dread attached than the previous proposition. More like that of certain playful gods from the pantheons rather than Death come to claim you.
A small whoosh of breath escaped my lips. A decision has to be made. This body of mine was considerably less spry than my younger years, and nor was my mind functioning at full capacity. What game could I choose and what chance did I have, it seemed like anything was on the table. Did I even want to win? I had lived a full life, I tried to be kind, a good person, I saw the world, I loved my family. Did I need more of that if He has decided it was my time?
Resolved, I look up at Him. He smiled broadly, a smile of a man confident in himself “What shall it be, a game of strength, of skill, or perhaps of wits?”
“A game of chance perhaps,” I responded, his smile broadening to one of pure glee.
“Now this, should be interesting.” | 2018-03-07T06:59:07 | 2018-03-07T02:57:36 | 1,807 | 46 |
[WP] A day before the Earth is destroyed by a collision with a rouge planet, time freezes. You, a completely normal person are untouched and cannot die. Text on your arm appears that reads, "however long it takes, save us".
You have an eternity, time resumes only when you are done.
_________________________________
I would like to take the time to thank everyone for their stories, I've been reading them and will continue to read them after submissions have stopped.
I'd also like to thank /u/PaulsWPAccount for his dedication to the story he has created and continues to create. As I type his story is still unfinished, I just want to give him the credit he deserves before this post falls too far from the front page.
Thank you all, it's been great.
One more thing....... Rouge :D | The words, etched onto my arm like a brand, were so raw in meaning that I thought I had understood them.
Oh how wrong I was...
We had seen it coming for decades - a collision with a transient planet crossing our solar plane - and prepared adequately; *most* of the populace had moved to the predicted opposite side of the planet, into state-of-the-art bunkers equipped to last 30, maybe 40 years at most. Some of us were left behind - the ones who had accepted their fates, the ones who denied theirs also - and we had collated in locations around the globe to watch it all unfold.
I was at Stonehenge, waiting for the start up of the 24-hour countdown clock with those of us who had remained in England. Why Stonehenge you ask? I haven't a clue - I never researched what it truly was - but it was voted for, and as such it became our location.
*click*
I heard the switch fly for the clock to start, but as the first few pixels lit up, everything stopped; people's bodies petrified, true emotion captured in facial expressions across the board, but not one meager atom moved anymore. I could still move though, as if unaffected by what had happened...
Scarcely 10 minutes later (or so it felt, considering the apparent universal standstill in effect) I felt my left arm go numb - as though I had been paralysed - as letters were carved into it by a mysterious source; *"However long it takes, save us"* they read, as if I had been chosen to be some kind of saviour. Me, a small suburban code monkey working on simple AI, a saviour? Ludicrous.
The next revelation of mine, I would guess it was around 20 minutes after that, was that I could not leave the boundaries of Stonehenge; I had to save whoever "us" referred to from within this tiny area. I won't lie; it was a useful thing to learn considering the vastness of the universe and however many sentient beings there may be that need saving, and so knowing that whoever needed ME specifically knew they could be saved by something here helped narrow down the requirements a little.
Of course, half an hour of light poking around doesn't expose much information, so I went deeper - so to speak - and began to look at each individual person, filtering through their belongings to glean what I could from any identification or item they had on them. Nothing stood out until the eighth person; I lifted a scrap of linen from her pocket with a red-stained symbol on it, reminiscent of one I'd seen earlier tattooed onto the third person (who was carrying a serrated-blade flick knife in their back pocket - perhaps the source of the writing on my arm), and that I had seen on the central stone.
Things fell into place rapidly - these people, with their runes and their knife, must have slipped me out of "their" time into a fixed point where I could search for a way to save them that they may not have thought of. I, of course, had no idea what the rest of it meant however - in my mind, and so I followed my gut; taking the knife I had found earlier, I put a drop of blood onto each of the runes on the central stone in order to save these people. Nothing happened, not instantly, not for the ten (maybe 20?) years I waited for it to happen: Time was still frozen.
I tried everything, but I couldn't even free myself from this time-lock by killing the people who I assumed put me there - the knife wouldn't touch them - and I couldn't leave Stonehenge. The words, etched onto my arm like a brand, were so raw in meaning that I thought I had understood them, I should have been free by now.
Then, in my madness, it clicked like the switch to start the clock. They always intended to die in the planetary collision, but they had left me behind at this point in time to save them, or rather, their memories. An unfaltering image of them in their life, "alive" in a sense of not being dead, with an undying observer to see that they are in fact alive.
"However long it takes" was a white lie. They had never meant for me to work out that there's nothing that can be done. I'm stuck here for eternity, keeping their image alive in my thoughts, "saving them" from death.
Edit: Was missing a letter. | I was sitting in my one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, which happens to smell like cat shit. I'm not normally this sloppy, really, but who wants to take out the cat litter when the world's about to end. Not just the world, but my entire race.
The rushed Hercules mission to transport fifteen thousand people failed. The gravitational disturbances caused by Michael, the rogue planet currently setting about extinguishing me, my race and my world, threw off the delta-v projections of Hercules I and 15,000 people are now slowly starving to just outside the asteroid belt.
I wish my cat would shut up, there's a lot of geological activity right now, and she's losing her mind. Mid-reach for more whiskey, my cat stops mid-meow, the red-faced televangelist who is now on every channel, stops mid-amen. Everything is silent now, the glowing vortex of dust that usually swirls around in the late afternoon light stops.
I get up and look outside, I can see what's going on but it's impossible, but it's obviously not impossible, yet it should be. Racing out of my front door, All cars in the street below are still. The postman's paper is stationary on it's trip to the ground.
I look down at my hands, why am I not a still, frozen statue? Monospaced script flows along the meat of my thumb 'Save us, take as much time as you need'.
What? Whatever, not the biggest issue here. I spend the rest of the afternoon walking around, except I don't know when the afternoon ends. When does this end? How do I save the human race from a fucking planet? I take advantage of the time to catch up on reading, for about 30 sleeps. It was nice, I went and took food from the store whenever I needed it. Other than that I just spent time playing chess against myself.
After about a thousand sleeps I start getting lonely, hell I'd take that televangelist at this point. Every day I see him on the frozen television with his arm raised above his head, finger pointed at the sky as if accusing Michael. There's bits of spittle flying out of his mouth. He's doesn't seem like a pleasant guy.
After 2000 sleeps I decide to work on how to 'save us', but how? How do I move or destroy a planet? Maybe I can move us? I mean there's Mars, other than being uninhabitable, it's definitely not about to be smashed by a rogue planet. Let's do that.
For the next 3174 sleeps I work on rocket science, and astrodynamics. The problem with that is that the internet doesn't work. So I have to find books. Fortunately there's a crazy Swedish foundation that keeps the entire internet in print. So a boat trip to Sweden (54 Sleeps) I could finally get cracking on studying. 18000 sleeps later, I've copied the Hercules I perfectly. 2000 sleeps later it's launch day. 690 sleeps, insertion into Mars orbit. 750 All Colonists landed on martian surface, inflatable hab modules set up. As I turn on the last oxygen generator, I feel a sense of ceremony, I can FINALLY get my life back. I moved the Televangelist next to me to catch the second half of that amen. I flip the switch. Nothing, why isn't the baptist screaming "MEN" in my face? What is this?!
I head back to Sweden to figure out how to destroy a planet. | 2015-10-23T15:35:58 | 2015-10-23T15:32:33 | 168 | 68 |
[WP] In an time when self-driving cars become a standard thing, suddenly all of them start heading towards the same destination. | "Honey...I think this is the wrong way."
I looked to my husband who sat in the seat to my right, his hands sat gently folded on his lap.
"It's okay dear, I'm sure it's just a detour. You know what they say...iPilot knows best!"
He continued watching the enormous screen that spanned across the front side of the vehicle, his eyes glued to the electric pane of flashing colors. In the bottom right corner of the screen, a small map displayed an overhead view of the city with an orange triangle representing our family car as it meandered it's way through the streets.
"It's turned us in the wrong direction!" I shouted.
I had always been bad with technology and had little patience with the numerous gadgets that constantly surrounded me.
"iPilot, Take us home!" I commanded.
No response
"iPilot!" louder this time. "I demand you to take us home!"
"Darling I can't hear the movie with you shouting like that," my husband snapped. His eyes still faithfully hooked on the screen.
I turned to the back seats, our two children sat silent and motionless as their faces were lit with the vibrant colors emitted from the screen. I turned back and jammed my thumb onto the smooth black button to my left, and a touch-screen console unfolded into my lap. I scrolled through the options, 'films,' 'series,' 'playlists,' 'internet browser,' until I found the icon that read, 'change destination.' I tried to open the destination screen, but before I could access it, an animated graphic of a spinning steering wheel popped onto the screen with the words, "please wait for an automatic update to complete...this may take a moment."
"Oh for Christ's sake!" I yelled.
I slid the light shield off the side window, revealing a massive heard of cars all traveling at the same speed and in the same direction. Complacent smiles rested on the faces of passengers as their auto-piloted cars carried them through the night. I stuck my head out the window to look back at the sea of automobiles that had amassed behind us. The convoy stretched back to the city scape, alit in the night sky. With every second that passed a new pair of headlights appeared at the base of the constantly growing chain of self-driving vehicles that left the city.
Suddenly a blinding light, the whitest of whites, consumed the entire sky, covering the countryside with a premature daylight. After a few moments, it slowly diminished allowing the blackness of night to rematerialize. In place of the twinkling lights of the city's skyscrapers, a colossal mushroom cloud illuminated from within by a neon yellow glow towered over the place I called home. Speechless and not willing to believe the horror that I had just witnessed, I returned to my seat, rolled up the window, and fastened the light shield. I reached to my husband's lap and firmly grasped one of his hands. In an effort to erase the electric yellow pillar that had burned itself into my eyes, I focused all of my attention the the display of soothing colors that spilled out of the giant screen in front of me...a happy passenger, because iPilot knows best. | Beep. Beep. Beep.
I have been trapped inside this car for three days. Three days.
Beeeep.
Compared to most I think I did fairly well out of it. I was on my way back from the shops, hailed a taxi, and then... stuck. Going in some random direction along with every other car I see out of the window. The plus side is that I actually have my food in the car; shopping. The bad side is, no toilet. I'm running out of bottles and the windows won't open.
And the entire time, there has been this awful beeping noise from the auto-pilot. The auto-pilot, safely and securely locked up where I can never get to it. It does three small beeps, one long beep, sixteen rapid beeps, and then it repeats, apart from when it doesn't and comes up with a completely new pattern.
It is infuriating. I am bored, I am too hot, and for some reason my phone won't work. And worst of all the seats in here aren't long enough to lie down on properly.
Boooop. Beep boop.
Huh, never heard that one before.
I see something in the distance, finally. We all seem to be heading towards a huge park. It's green and lush and I feel some kind of optimism for the first time since Monday. Maybe this is all some huge prank staged by the car companies? Maybe we're all going to get out and we'll be at a huge resort.
Somehow I doubt it.
________________________________________________________________
It's been a month. I'm running out of my rationed food. It stinks in here. We just go round and round. It's some insane idiot in charge of the autopilots, and he's doomed us all. I know it.
We go round a track. Round and round. Over bridges and elevated paths. It takes an age. And as you get near to the end you enter an area which says "exit". But there's no exit. You just go back in again.
The park is decorated with a face, mocking me. I've seen it time and time again. He's smiling. I know his name, it's on a big sign underneath him.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I want to get off Mr Bones' Wild Ride. | 2016-07-30T12:51:48 | 2016-07-30T12:46:24 | 25 | 15 |
[WP] The ground suddenly turns invisible, but the insects and things that live inside it don’t. | It didn't register at first.
I mean, the ground turning invisible registered pretty much immediately. You never know just how much *Earth* is under you until you can see through it. It's especially apparent when, depending on where you are, it's 2am and it's not night anymore.
It's daylight. Everywhere.
Everyone outside seems to be standing on a skybridge all at once. The buildings and foundations are still here, still visible. Trees and bushes too. But the ground? Cement, pipes, water, grass, all that?
Gone.
It's daylight, and all at once every living thing beneath our feet is visible between the sun's light and the wine colored glow of the Earth's core. Worms, bugs, badgers. Meerkats if that's what you've got going. All plainly visible, and freaking out just as we were up here.
I mean, imagine if all of a sudden, the walls, floors, and ceiling of your house were just gone.
Imagine being an accidental mime. Being surrounded by light with an unfamiliar blood red glow beneath you.
It was all over the news. The only thing being talked about. And everyone was so freaked out that it must have been the been the most peaceful few hours the world had ever seen. Most people stood outside, staring down into the core, like a crimson sun beneath our feet. The world-wide confusion lent itself well to hushed conversation.
Most of the world was so focused on the ground being gone that they didn't notice the core had been slowly getting lighter until it suddenly flared, like a candle, and then began to pulse, as a heart does, crimson and ruby.
Crimson and ruby.
That's when it registered.
We could see every living thing in the Earth. Worms, bugs, badgers. Meerkats if that's what you've got going.
And The Core.
edit: grammar | Every man, woman, and child would never forget what they saw that day.
As they emerged from their homes, they all saw something that radically changed their lives. Most went mad in an instant, screaming with terror and insanity. Those who did not go insane would require decades of therapy. Some did not go outside to see it, but rather witnessed the horror in the news.
In China, people looked down and saw nothing but whiteness.
In America, the ground had become a sea of blue.
Central America looked down at their feet and saw a sea of black.
They were all suspended hundreds of feet above it.
The few men and women on the I.S.S. had it worst. For they saw the Earth transformed into a giant eye, blue as the sea and as devoid of empathy as the eyes of a shark.
Satellites across the world aimed down at the ground and broadcasted the haunting image of a planet that was truly naked for the first time. The Earth was an eye. It was incomprehensible.
Then the eye blinked. | 2018-04-21T07:40:46 | 2018-04-21T06:08:07 | 769 | 500 |
[WP] The villagers call you their guardian spirit that has protected them since the time of ashes, in truth you are a monstrosity of war that protects the village in an attempt to clear your conscience. | I reap wheat in the fields where I once reaped souls, and the sickle in my hand feels no different than it ever has. There’s an eerie consistency to the work, sweat beads on my brow, my hand tightens on the same ancient wooden handle, and when I bend down to lift up my prize, it’s still lifeblood.
It’s been nearly a hundred years and the wheat in my hand is still the most unfamiliar part. I shake my head, tossing the stalk to the boy who follows. “Keep up Arlen,” I say to him. He smiles shyly at me, stuffing the village’s ample harvest into the bag he carries.
“Master Roshan, when I grow up will I have a sickle like yours?”
I tousle his hair but say nothing, for there is nothing to say. The blade in my hand is too unnatural for a ten year old to understand. It doesn’t gleam in the sun, though its surface is polished enough to be reflective; it never dulls, it can do nothing but strike true. I turn back to my work, that’s all there is to do.
Until the rider comes.
The staccato beat of a horse’s hooves approaches from the southwest, not from the road where a royal messenger or a merchant might be, but along the bank of Tanner’s Creek. I hear it before anyone else can, the villagers don’t have my senses, and my body comes alert instantly. The beat isn’t regular. There’s a stilted, uneven quality to the hooves, one of the horse's legs is injured. Arlen bumps into me, and when I turn I can see fear in his eyes.
“Master Roshan! Are you ok?” he asks, reaching out towards me, his hand stopping at the last second as if there’s some invisible wall between us. “You look scary.”
I close my eyes for a moment and try to smooth my expression, to still the sudden pounding of my heart. “Arlen, I want you to gather the others in the village square, do you understand me?”
“Yes sir!” His voice squeaks, he’s still young.
Crouching down to his level I grab his shoulder with my free hand. Too tightly, he tries manfully not to show it but a small grimace escapes him.
“Tell them to gather weapons, whatever they can. Tell them that any man who approaches is an enemy if I’m not with them. Tell them those are my orders, sworn by the Heart of the Sacred Tree.”
“Yes sir!” His voice is steady that time. Good.
I throw down my pack, take one last swig from my water sack, and start off in the direction of the horse. There’s a shout from somewhere along the creek, a woman’s voice, and as I begin to run I catch the scent of blood in the air, though I still can’t see the horse and rider. “Arlen, go!” I shout over my shoulder.
Tanner’s Creek is a winding, almost nonsensical thing, at times struggling to decide if it will be a real river or a barely life sustaining slash in the ground. This season it was closer to a river. In times like these the village made use of a mill to the southwest, the direction the horse came from. There was a small waterwheel there on the fastest running section of the almost river, and to speed along the grinding one of the village’s few horses would be harnessed there. When I finally saw the beast I knew it instantly, Old Maggie, and I knew it's rider. What was left of him at least.
John the Miller slumped across Old Maggie’s neck, his blood staining her mane, a pair of arrows sticking out of his back to go with the deep wound in his leg. Even at this distance I could tell it had been an axe. A pair of washerwomen stood at the creek’s bank, their washboards discarded beside them. “Run!” I shouted as I approached, “the villagers gather in the square!”
They realize who I am instantly, and they take in my state just as quickly. I’m bare chested and lathered with sweat from working, the sun highlights the many scars that crisscross my chest and shoulders. I clutch my sickle in my right hand and though its blade still doesn’t reflect the sun it does something else, something far stranger.
It dances with an internal light, little pulses trailing up and down its surface. The fuller in the blade seeps with something they won’t be able to identify, but that is the very core of me. My own black ichor that had quenched it so long ago.
They run, giving me small, grateful glances as they pass. The villagers here trust me and I allow it, though it pains me.
I catch Old Maggie’s reins as she passes and John the Miller slips off her back. He’s been dead awhile now, likely half the ride or more. I don’t concern myself with him though, I’ve buried more men in these fields than any among us can count and more are approaching.
“A fighter!” a tall, red bearded man shouts.
There are ten of them and two have bows, no doubt they’re the ones who killed John. They sit battered leather saddles with the ease of men long used to the road, and their armor, what few pieces they have, is pitted and scarred with use. The red bearded man is at their center, he advances on me with a merciless laugh.
“A fighter with a magic sickle. Of all the useless things a mage could have enchanted they picked that! Tell me boy, whose grave did you steal that from?”
It makes sense that he’d think I was a grave robber. The villagers till up new bones every planting season and you can scarcely lift a rock in these parts without discovering it was some long forgotten cairn. It’s even close to truth, though I was the grave digger, not the robber.
“You killed John,” I say.
“John? Any of you lot notice a John?” He turns to his men and they all laugh too, and none of them have any mercy in them.
“The others at the mill?” I say. “Did you kill them too?”
“Eventually.” He smiles. “Stand aside boy. I see your scars, you’ve lead a hard life too, I can always use people like you. I’ll trade you the sickle for a torch and you can come with us if you prove yourself in the village.”
There are ten of them and all I have is a sickle. It’s enough.
I move like a tiger, more beast than man. I sweep past the red bearded man, ignoring him for now. Before any of them can call out I’m among them and the sickle’s blade reflects the blaze in my eyes for the briefest moment before it catches fire and I begin taking the horses out at the knees.
I hate hurting the animals, but I’ve buried too many friends to let my compunctions get in the way. The world becomes a screaming, writhing mass of horseflesh and scattering men. One of the archers looses an arrow and I dodge it casually. The other archer falls off his horse and I’m upon him, sickle flashing as it slashes down into him. When I turn, three of the men have created a little shield wall and they’re advancing on me, axes raised. I dart in, feinting to their right, and the man on the left breaks ranks just slightly, afraid he won’t be able to help his comrades from where he is.
In the blink of an eye I’ve turned and ripped the leftmost man’s shield away from his body. My sickle strikes him at the elbow and the arm comes off with the shield. Battle blurs for me as it always does. Even for the most experienced warriors, even for a god of war, a struggle is a frantic thing, expressing itself almost unconsciously in a razor’s edge dance with death. I dance for what feels like an eternity but for what I know is only seconds, my sickle rising and falling, rising and falling, reaping again as I had all day with the wheat.
And suddenly it’s over. I stand alone above a pile of unmoving men, a burning blade in my hand, the power of nine freshly harvested souls coursing through me, lending the world a crazed, red tinted look.
“M-m-master Roshan?” a small voice stutters. I turn to see Arlen. He’s come alone, a small hatchet in his hands. I look closer and notice that despite the stutter, despite the fear, the hatchet’s blade is steady.
“The last one is getting away, sir!” Arlen points. The red bearded man had abandoned his friends. He's far away already, galloping as hard as his horse can carry him.
“Sir, they killed John. We can’t let him escape.”
*We.*
“Arlen? Are you a good rider?” I ask.
“Yes sir!”
I stare the boy down, trying to decide if I regret what I’m about to do. I point to Old Maggie, “Then mount up son, and try to keep up. It’s time to become a man.”
I turn and run flat out after red beard, the ground a blur as it disappears beneath my feet. A few seconds later Old Maggie’s uneven rhythm pounds the earth behind me. The chase is on.
r/TurningtoWords
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/mtoxvm/comment/gv1tlhm?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3) | # How to Break a Siege of Legends
(Book 2, Part 5: How to Atone for Sins Long Gone)
(Note: How to Break a Siege of Legends is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**It was said that you could see the wasteland around Las Humanitas from outer space.** Crystal knew this wasn't quite true; among their many misadventures, they had once flown to the uppermost reaches of the atmosphere and looked down upon the psychosphere, and were intimately familiar with just how *small* everything seemed from up there. Even the miles and miles of charred plains around Las Humanitas would be nothing but a pimple on the smiling face of the Earth from that height.
But from the ground, where Crystal stood, the wastelands around Las Humanitas might as well have reached to the ends of the universe.
Few enough people came up to the city walls nowadays; Haoran, one of the newest arrivals, was one of the handful who still stared out at the endless siege around their city. The people inside had... well, not quite forgotten, but *acclimated* to the fact that they could never leave their city's walls, that a legion of nightmares and monsters continuously hammered at their civilization's doors. Even now, a pair of infuriated Harpies eyed the seemingly-exposed child on the battlements, pondering whether or not they should try their luck against Las Humanitas' infamous walls.
Not today. Crystal concentrated, and their namesake crystals embedded all along the city's walls lit up. The fragments of pure magic ignited, creating a faint blue dome encircling the city, and the Harpies screeched once and turned away, dissuaded.
"You're alive, aren't you?" Haoran whispered softly.
The crystals embedded along the walls flickered in surprise.
Haoran smiled. "Yeah. I figured. I've been looking up at your shield patterns for a while, and you just react too adaptively to be a simple *thing*." Crystal hummed pensively. A boy who looked up. There weren't many of those left in Las Humanitas. Just one more reason to protect this city, Crystal guessed. "You're not just some fancy automated defense system, are you? There's a person inside these walls."
Crystal hesitated, then let out two ascending tones from the node nearest Haoran. An affirmative. Not that... not that Crystal really considered themself a person, nowadays. Not after everything they'd done.
Haoran's gaze grew pensive. "How... how long have you been here?"
Crystal stopped to think. Not to remember how long they'd been embedded in these walls—they'd willingly given up their war-body, swearing to protect instead of kill, exactly six years, four months, three days, and nineteen hours ago. They could count into the seconds and milliseconds if they needed to. No, they simply had no idea how to convey this information to Haoran.
They settled for selecting the node neared the child and slowly ramping up its brightness to a painful luminosity, so much so that Haoran had to hold up a hand and turn away his eyes.
"That much, huh?" Haoran raised an eyebrow. "Do... do people know about you?"
Crystal pulsed once. There was only one person who knew that the walls of Las Humanitas held firm almost entirely due to a single defender—and the King of Las Humanitas tried to keep it a secret as much as possible. He claimed it was because the people would be demoralized if they realized that there was a single point of failure for defenses. But in truth, Lien simply didn't want the inhabitants of Las Humanitas to dwell on the fact that their survival effectively depended on keeping Crystal enslaved for their defense—or that, if Crystal wasn't broken apart and embedded in their walls, Crystal could have rained destruction upon them all with a thought and a whisper. The walls of Las Humanitas carried a sleeping god in chains.
But to tell the truth, Crystal didn't mind. If they were in chains, they couldn't hurt anyone. And they had hurt so, so many people over their years—enough for a thousand lifetimes. Defending this town with everything they had left was a worthy use of their eternity.
Even as Crystal had the thought, the two Harpies returned, this time with some kind of alchemical bomb. As if they could break Crystal's defenses. They hurled two gourds that erupted into eerily silent green fire; Crystal simply flared up, and their signature blue forcefield effortlessly deflected the firebombs. Haoran whistled in appreciation.
"Well, I just... I just wanted to say... thank you." Crystal's attention snapped back to the boy on their walls, still looking out at the wastelands outside the city. "For preventing this—" he gestured at the bustling, lively city below them— "from becoming this." He pointed at the wasteland, prowling with Hydras and Werewolves and Vampires and monsters of every flavor and description. "For however many years you've stood here. And if there's anything I can do for you... just... let me know."
Crystal let out a bittersweet chime. The boy was sweet, but Crystal couldn't speak the language of humans; in this form, they were limited to chimes and tones. Even if the boy was willing, there was no way for Crystal to communicate...
Crystal paused. Ah. No, there was a way to communicate to the humans, even if they were limited to bell-sounds and crystal-rings. Crystal assembled their thoughts, the light in their crystals dimming for a moment, as if they were taking a breath.
And the walls of Las Humanitas began to sing.
The city-dwellers slowed, confused, as the first notes rang out. It was a simple, mournful melody, clear and tinkling like the flow of a brook. Even the Harpies circling Las Humanitas' walls drifted mid-flight, falling silent out of respect.
As Haoran stepped closer to the crystal, the music twisted. The pure tones of bells gave way to the sizzling blasts of energy beams; the tempo stuttered and stumbled like feet over corpses in the dark; the dynamics became rough stretches of near-silence, interspersed by artillery-bursts of noise and light. Haoran hissed in pain as the crystal began flickering with lurid, violent light, and Crystal remembered every screaming victim they'd slain in the name of glory, back when they were still a god unbound.
The god in chains finished their dirge on a half-cadence. Haoran looked at the crystal with wide, shining eyes, silently streaked with tears.
Crystal sighed internally. Of course, Haoran didn't understand. He hadn't been there—and even if he was, he was a human. He didn't speak the language of tones and chimes that Crystal's kind did. There was no way for him to know what Crystal wanted him to do.
Which was why it gave Crystal the shock of their life when Haoran began to sing back.
He hadn't been trained, that was for sure. His voice wobbled and cracked with the uncertainty of youth. But he had a musical ear, and he picked up the jagged edges of Crystal's song and knit them together with a hopeful, determined thread. Haoran laid one hand on the crystal node in the wall as he sang a wordless countermelody, his voice swelling and carrying across the city and the wastelands beyond.
When he was finished, even the roving monsters outside had quieted down.
"I don't know your story," Haoran finally said. "But I want to understand you. Because you've defended us for all these years and never asked for anything in return. Because you're a person, and you must be a terribly, awfully lonely one. Because you spat in the eye of gods and monsters and can still sing despite it all. So... Hi. I'm Haoran." Haoran stuck out his hand, as if he expected the stationary crystal to reach out and shake his hand, and Crystal couldn't help but be amused at the child's absurdity. "Do you want to be friends?"
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "How to Break a Siege of Legends" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mdh066/how_to_break_a_siege_of_legends_masterpost/) for the rest of the story. As always, I had fun writing this, I'm open to feedback and suggestions on how I can improve, and I hope you have a great day. | 2021-04-18T19:04:53 | 2021-04-18T18:59:55 | 1,195 | 73 |
[WP] A friendship between a time traveler and an immortal. Wherever the time traveler ends up, the immortal is there to catch him up to speed. | "Do you remember when we first met?" she asked, pouring the last of the last bottle.
I smiled. "I was eighteen. Physics class on the Ohio State campus."
"Yes? Tell me what you first thought." Her dark eyes seemed to swallow all of my peripheral vision like an entire night full of stars on the Mediterranean, centuries before I was born.
"I was stunned. You were so beautiful and so smart. You seemed to know your way about the world in every way. How nature worked. How people worked. Like you were ageless."
"You guessed me from the start!" She laughed.
We had fallen in love and learned about each other. Loving an immortal turned out to have some complications. For her, how to keep it fresh? She had been alive for more than two millenia and seen it all. For me, how to not die? Turns out a time machine does not make a mortal live any longer.
She had a plan. A plan given to her by a strange augurer way in her past. We had no idea of the origin of this plan, but we knew it would work.
After a pause, she asked, "Tell me where is this Ohio State."
I described to her a country that would be discovered a thousand years in her future and a culture that could not possibly make sense in any context of this age. How we studied in the library together and forged this strange bond while working on temporal research. A young physics prodigy and an immortal of ageless wisdom.
"So," I asked her, "do you remember when we first met?"
"Of course!" she replied, a great mischief in her eyes. "The great steps of the city of Parsa!"
Her eyes grew distant. "I was eighteen. A thousand years ago, I had no idea I would live so long. It is still so fresh in my mind."
"I guess I was persuasive. Or will be!"
"Oh, I was so rebellious! To be seduced by a strange foreign man!"
She told me of her unbridled passions, her indignant family and flights in the darkness. Strange stories of living for ever and taming time as a ship tames the waves.
We had been living here in Cyprus for a year. We dated each other one year at a stretch, together in the most interesting places on earth, at our whim. Our year here had drawn to a close and it was time to move on. There was no packing to be done. The time machine would move only itself and my naked body.
"Where will I find you?" I asked her. This always filled me with dread, but of course she was certain she would find me.
"Alexandria. At the library." That mischievous grin. Her and libraries. "Take one month to get there, and then go back exactly 100 years. Meet me on the day of Mercuralia."
I just drank in her beauty for a moment. It would be hard to be away from her for more than a month. I hoped that she would remember me after a hundred years. But of course I already knew she would- for me, that year-long date was last year. And in due course she asked, "Where shall I find you?"
"Constantinople. One hundred years from now."
Her eyes fell. It was hard for her. It broke my heart but part of me was reassured that her love endured. I sometimes wondered if she took lovers in the long intervals, but I really did not care as long as we came back to each other.
We kissed passionately one final time on this island. But before we parted, she stopped me.
"When you go back to Alexandria. When you arrive in the past. Find a sword, first thing. Even before you find clothes."
She looked worried. I must have looked bewildered.
"When we met-- when we meet... in the library, you told me to remind you."
She held me a moment longer.
"It will be alright," she added. "Whatever it was, you were unharmed. But you wanted me to tell you, you will need that sword."
We parted. She would live out the next hundred years to meet a slightly younger me in Constantinople. And I would travel to Alexandria, then hop backwards in time to meet an ageless her.
| "Good evening."
Farrow jumped. "Who's there?" He called. Quickly stripping the thick goggles from his head, he glanced around the empty lab. It was dark and quiet - the kind of quiet that only comes out in a busy place after midnight, once the everyone had long ago left for home. Everyone except for Farrow, of course.
"I know you're back there, behind the doorway." He said, eyes narrowing. "Come out into the light so I can see you."
The woman - for she was a woman - laughed almost imperiously. "I wasn't trying to hide, Farrow. But I will honor your request." With two luxurious strides, the woman stepped into the circle of light that surrounded Farrow's desk like a halo. Farrow gulped. She had long, dark hair that flowed nearly to her waist, with skin the color of honeyed milk. Though she wore warm clothing that obscured her form, she was easily the most beautiful woman that Farrow had ever seen.
"Who *are* you?" He asked, filled with wonder. Then, regaining some of his composure, he pressed on, "And how did you get in here? The doors are all locked, no one should have been able to even get inside!"
"Oh, I have ways of getting into places on my own terms." The woman said, coyly. "But I needn't have used them. You invited me here yourself, Farrow."
Farrow blinked. "That's twice now you've used my name, but I don't think I have introduced myself...nor have you given me yours. Tell me what's going on!"
"I think you know." The woman replied, smirking. "As far as who I am, we have met before - though I doubt you could remember it. You may call me Kalika...and if what I have heard is true, we will be quite the pair."
Farrow's eyes widened in realization. "The time travel project! So you're...from the future? But our theories only indicate that forward travel is possible..."
"Not all things you consider impossibilities are impossible, Farrow. My very presence here should prove that." Kalika smiled, and Farrow was disconcerted to notice that her canines were oddly pointed. "Speaking of which...how is your prototype coming along?" She gestured to a twisted mass of metal in the corner of the room. It seemed to be made of nothing but rings, a chair, and a control panel rigged together with a few screws.
"Scrapped." Farrow sighed, forgetting for a moment who he was speaking to. "The powers that be deemed it too dangerous, they never even wanted me to test it."
Kalika grinned. "Why don't you...give it a little whirl just the same?" Without waiting for him to give an answer, she grabbed his arm and began to steer him towards the strange device.
"I...don't...think..." Farrow protested, squirming under Kalika's surprisingly strong grip. Deftly, she began punching numbers into the controls faster than Farrow's eyes could follow, and the machine whirred to life at her touch. Farrow let out a cry and began trying to power the device down, but she simply swatted his hand away and continued to work. Just as the first ring began to spin, she withdrew back into the lab, leaving Farrow trapped in a whirling tornado of steel.
"What have you done!?" Farrow yelled, dismayed. But no matter how much he hammered away at the controls, the machine never responded.
"Don't worry so very much...my love." She smiled again, pointed canines glinting. "See you in a hundred years..."
And with a flash of blue-white light, Farrow was gone. | 2016-11-10T11:48:32 | 2016-11-10T11:06:59 | 1,871 | 87 |
[WP] Your luck stat is so high that it has rendered you basically immortal. After 200 years, you seek to end your life by searching for a luck lowering potion, but your luck is doing everything in its power to stop you. | Of course I drank the potion. Damn thing was the cure to my immorality. It would finally open the gap for a lucky strike to slip through and gouge out my heart.
Let me rewind a bit. I'm a fairly lucky guy. Actually, I'm extremely lucky. So much so that I'll survive whatever deathtrap I land in. That was actually a bit of a problem: Someone high up took note of this trait and decided to send me against the Demon Lord. Naturally I survived, and I even slew the devil. Knowing my luck, I took last pick at the loot, and landed myself a couple cursed gauntlets.
It was shortly after I donned them I recalled the Demon Lord mentioning something about his blessed cuffs. In hindsight, the entire fight was improbable. We caught the bloody devil on his way back from the bathroom. Which we were only looking for because we were looking for the goddamn bathroom. Then he manages to dodge point-blank light blasts from my mage companion, a grenade thrown in his path by my sapper happens to be a dud, and my warrior's finest blade snaps while being drawn.
It wasn't entirely stacked against us. Since the Demon Lord was making a quick run to the loo, he'd left his guards and lieutenants. In fact, he'd even left most of his weapons and armor, and was consequently wearing half-plate and the aforementioned gauntlets.
In short, I should've known the gauntlets would be cursed to increase my luck. To be fair, who would've known that devils, who usually see curses as blessings, would see luck the same as us?
That was the start of my effective immortality. I was basically unkillable. Arrows and blades would miss their mark, guaranteed hits would misfire, ultra-reliable systems would fail to kill me, unreliable systems would kick in to save me. This became kind of a problem after I decided I'd lived long enough. So I set out for a potion that would decrease my luck.
And failed to find one. Luckily, during my quest, I revisited the old Demon Lord's castle and crawled through their treasure trove of books, diaries, and scrolls. One scroll rolled onto the floor and I was left staring at a recipe for a potion that would decrease luck. Snatching up my gauntlets, which were always close to hand due to the properties of the curse, I figured if I couldn't find a potion, I'd make it myself.
Gathering the ingredients was actually a cinch. I was lucky enough to accrue a wealth of favors from most of the nations on the planet during my adventures. One short brewing session later, and I had my potion.
Did you know luck affects potion results? I did. I made the most potent unlucky potion in the world. Of course I would down it immediately and walk off a cliff. As I sailed off the cliff, I scouted around to make sure nobody would intervene to save my life. I made sure to pick the jaggiest, spikiest part of the crags to land on. My first clue is when I realized the ground seemed to be receding before me. And that's when I learned about underflow.
So now I am a freshly ascended god of fortune, with actual immortality. Oops. | "Huh..."
I stopped walking and I looked back.
What I saw behind me was people.
Yet, the bodies of the people following me are clad in faint black smokes.
Those very black smokes are entering my body.
Feeling numb to this scenery, I looked in front of me again and resumed walking.
I knew that when I started this plan of mine years ago, my luck will always sheild me.
Sheild me for any dangers or any events may that be little or huge.
Smirking, I can't help but feel cracking a joke.
Though, I do need to mind my image for the people following me, I deciding to just crack a joke inside of my head.
'Isn't there a phrase people once said in their lifetime if they found something or someone a pain in the ass unexpectedly? If so, with what am I doing right now where I can't find a simple cursed weapon or a potion that lessens this trait of mine. Isn't the situation a fitting way to say, 'What a rotten luck.''
'...'
Comforting myself a bit with a joke, I smiled a bit then returned to my aloof image before turning back my head again to the people following me in this crusade.
"Everyone! Halt!"
Hearing my words, the people stopped their march.
"Hear me God! Hear me people! As people who are willing to volunteer for this crusade, hear me! We have traveled far and wide! We sacrificed our times with our families for protecting our country that is currently facing horrors from the evil and murderous being living in the castle that stand atop that mountain! We have not sacrificed ourselves just to wait to be slain by the evil being preparing their dark forces to trample in our homes! Raise your spears and pray to our God! Let us cleanse the world of evil!"
I turned my back and looked forward in front of me.
From my eyes, I saw black oozing gas emanating from the forest.
Deep beyond, I saw what looked like a giant serpent coiled around and on top of it is a small looking house.
Calming my breathing and hiding my excited face, I thought to myself no sane man would ever think in this situation.
'Hmm... Did I shaved my butt hair? Will that be enough as a payment for whatever cursed potion that hair-fetish witch has?' | 2022-07-30T07:56:44 | 2022-07-30T05:39:23 | 63 | 22 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second... | It was late. Like my period, which started four years after the last girl of my class had her first. I didn't mind the same way I didn't mind four years of guaranteed dry underwear and both times because I was busy exploring the neighborhood.
"Who arrives late to their own birthday party?" said my boss as I stepped into the lobby with a fake smile.
Rather than explaining myself, I took my hoodie off and lifted my arms so the small crowd could explore. I enjoyed their disappointment.
"It's two pm! Two hours late!" cried Jeannine.
"It's just one hour late. Daylight savings, remember?" I didn't want to sound rude, but I did.
"Shut up!" Cried Jeannine again, but not at my attitude. She pointed at my leg. That caught me by surprise and upon inspection, I found scribbles. Well, I found some sort of writing I was unfamiliar with. Max took a picture.
"I bet it means wanderlust" Said my boss. I wished he were right for once.
I spent the following weeks tracking down the kind of writing that appeared across my leg. The library did not help at all, the flyers did not help at all, the university did not help at all and the pictures posted on online forums actually yielded a faint hint: this was an archaic form of writing found only in ruins from a little group of islands in the Pacific Ocean. Nobody was surprised when I packed a few things and bought a one-way ticket to a country whose name I learned that very morning. My mother was so used to my shenanigans that she lost the ability to get scared for me, but she retained the ability to scare me into promising I would be out of trouble. We both knew the promise was empty and we both closed our eyes while we hugged for a few minutes.
After I arrived, I realized nobody in the little modest nation spoke my own language so my only tool for communication was the picture of the hieroglyphic. Almost two months after its appearance and I still had no idea of where I was going.
As I walked to my hotel, I stopped and showed the picture to random people and asked if they spoke my language. I got a few giggles, two dirty looks, a grave silence, a regular silence and a couple of head shakes. I tried the same with the hotel staff until the bartender shouted "Ah!" and called someone on the phone. A couple of minutes later, a lovely woman appeared and greeted me in my own language, with a slight accent. She identified as the local chief of tourism. I explained myself over tea and she said she had never heard of something like this, but knew a few bookworms who were familiar with the script in the ruins that she could introduce me to. I tried to pay for this service and she refused adamantly and I do mean adamantly.
We agreed to visit the scholars early the next morning and I really can't remember anything between that conversation and the next morning. Everything was so new. The mix between modern technology and traditional attires, different body languages, different hairstyles, different smells... I was trying to absorb it all. We arrived to a little office where two men played checkers. They were overjoyed to explain the ruins to me: spoiler alert, they didn't know jack shit about the people who built them. Nobody does. They were long gone by the time Cleopatra was dreaming of ruling the world. Their civilization appeared in some historical records from other nations. Thanks to some of those, there is basic understanding of their scripture. Both men jumped at the picture of my word but all they could make was "the place that". They faxed (yes, faxed) the picture over to a colleague who said she had seen that very word at the entrance of a temple. Two islands over. The chief of tourism helped me buy a ferry ticket after we had dinner with the scholars. I arrived around 9 pm (local time) and spent the night at the "doggy dog inn". I didn't quite get the name at first, but the next morning, after the sixth pack of dogs ran past me, it clicked. This place was very fond of dogs. So am I. I followed the map that one of the scholars gave me (fresh from the fax machine!) until I arrived at a nice little house, clearly restored from the rest of the ruins. A young man opened the door and struggled with the language a little bit. He welcomed me and guided me to what appeared to be a temple that had become the main dog sanctuary. We were in the island of dogs, in the main sanctuary of dogs surrounded by mysterious ruins and lush vegetation. The young man pointed at an arch above the entrance that had an inscription still visible. I didn't need to look at the picture to know that was my word. I smiled. He said the closest translation of the inscription meant "The place of the care givers". My heart fluttered. | Everyone was super excited for me as the clock quickly approached noon, in mere moments I would reach the age of 18 and I would learn what my purpose was in life. My mother scurried around the living room offering our friends and family refreshments why they waited. She took this small task with pride for it was in her nature, she was labeled with “Server” when she was my age and as a result she had great pride in helping others and serving people no matter the task. I watched this wonderfully strong women bow before others every day simply to appease them and to live up to her “purpose”. So many horrible things had happened to this wonderful woman through her life simply because she was labeled a “Server” and no one could see her as anything else except for a slave. She was constantly taken advantage of and in all my life I had never heard her deny a request or refuse help to someone.
I shook my head and glanced up at the clock, 11:59am the clock stated. Soon it would be decided, my only hope is that I would not suffer the same fate as my mother. The room grew silent and an eerie count down was chanted, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6… my heart beat quickened and my breathing started to become erratic, 5 more seconds before my life was decided. 4, 3, 2 …… 1. The room which was once bustling with light chatter and laughter had suddenly stopped; all eyes were on my hand. Slowly a shape began to form on my hand and it didn’t make any sense what appeared before me. There was no word on my hand but instead a symbol. I had seen a similar symbol before once in a history book but I couldn’t remember where. The room suddenly exploded in screams and shouts. Never had anyone ever had a symbol on their hand it had always been a word of some sort. I looked over at my mother for reassurance but all I was met with was an empty terrified look. Her eyes pierced my very soul and they spoke clearly “Monster.” I looked around the room and everyone now had the same expression on their faces, they viewed me as a freak and monster something that should have no business living in this world. It’s too much I thought and collapse to ground, kneeling before the fireplace. My mind was aflutter, maybe it was a mistake, maybe this was simply a nightmare and I would wake up. I pinched my hand but I did not wake up. I started pinching myself over and over again trying the escape the hell that I was now in. I turned to everyone with tears streaming down my face and I screamed, “What’s happened to me?!” I was only met with uneasy looks and cold shoulders; I was an outcast to my own family. I looked to my mother, the women who had raised me on her own my entire life; the women who was always there for me no matter what. “Mom please help me!” I wailed. Her eyes turned from mine and she started to slowly walk away. “I’m sorry but I can no longer help you in any way. My service to you is done.” She said. My world shattered in that moment. I looked down at my hand and even though my world was now destroyed and everything had turned its back on me I started to feel a calming sensation come over me. I started at my hand and suddenly a second symbol appeared on top of the first. The room erupted in screams of terror and fear, people shouting that I was a freak and a demon and yet I was at peace. The more I stared at the symbols the more at peace I felt and then as if I light switch had been turned on their meanings came to me. I wiped my nose on my sleeve and I turned to the mob that was once my friends and family. I raised my hand above my head, tears still streaming down my face and with a booming voice I shouted, "BEHOLD! The Crook and Flail! The symbols of the pharaoh, you will prepare for your new King!” ….
| 2017-03-16T02:44:59 | 2017-03-15T22:13:42 | 109 | 80 |
[WP] The city wants to remove a tree from an old man's yard. Why does this upset him so much, and how does he stop them? | Gordon Frizzle had lived on that plot for seventy-two years. Over the decades, the village became a town, which then became a large town.
The large town of Greenfield had become a city now, and Gordon voiced his displeasure at this development every morning by drumming his strong chest with his fists and uttering a mighty Tarzan cry at the rise, and fall of the sun.
The city - spearheaded by Mayor Aimajerk - had moved to deal with the problem. They envisioned tall buildings with high rent costs, and Gordon was in the way.
People liked Gordon, even though no one had ever really held a conversation with him about anything more than trees. He *loved* trees, and people loved Gordon for that. Except Mayor Aimajerk and his handpicked council.
"We gotta get rid of Gord of the Jungle, gentlemen!" They all nodded, and grunted in approval.
"We gotta shake him outta that doggon tree!"
More nods and grunts.
The plot of land that Gordon resided upon was modest. It could fit an average suburban home. The unique layout, though, was that there was no house on the plot. There were low shrubs, and, in the very centre, a humungous tree. Supposedly Gordon's great grandfather had brought a sequoia seed from California in his youth, and coaxed it to life on their little plot. Well, darn it, that tree sprung up like a weed all its life and continued to enjoy the status of tallest structure for hundred miles around.
Gordon Frizzle lived in that tree, and didn't take too kindly to Mayor Aimajerk's proposal to cut it down. Whenever someone Gordon didn't like started to inspect his domain, Gord would come flying out of his tree-home like Dankey Kang, hooting and hollering, swinging low on vines with a pouch full of discarded banana peels for the bad guys, and nice ripe ones for the other bystanders who he liked.
Families would cheer as he swung, hooting, overhead, and avert their eyes when his loincloth flapped dangerously free behind him. The blur of grey bushy beard and tanned skin was a sight to behold from all angles!
This passive form of resistance continued for a month before Aimajerk had had enough. Early one Sunday morning, he drove the Tree-cutter to the plot himself to do his deed.
What he found was not at all what he expected.
Gordon Frizzle stood at the tree's base. It was the first time that the Mayor had ever seen him on the ground, but that was not what made his jaw drop.
Gordon was wearing a suit. His wild eyes watched the clunking machine approach with cool calm behind smart spectacles, and he wore a gold watch. He looked… great.
"A word, Mayor."
Despite the early hour, a huge crowd had gathered. They had been roused from their early morning coffee and newspapers by the angry progress of the Tree cutting machine, and knew that it could only mean one thing. There had been no warning article in the papers.
"Won't change a thing, Gord!"
Gordon smiled, and produced a briefcase.
*A briefcase!*
He deftly unbuckled it, and produced from within a single document. Its edges were crisp, and a seal of some sort was stamped on the bottom.
"According to our Family Property laws, Mayor, revised for the final time on 18th June 1988 in accordance with the Judicial practices and conventions of our legislature, no square centimetre of land stamped by the Crown's Own may be encroached upon by urban development initiatives. Please review the authenticity of this document."
Mayor Aimajerk took the document in shaking hands. Looking over it in awe, and fury, he did the only thing he could think of. He tore it to pieces.
"What document?"
Unfazed, Gordon produced a duplicate of the paper he had just handed the Mayor. "This one. And," he reached into an envelope in his breast pocket, "these are photographs of you and your council members robbing a bank sixteen months ago."
The whole crowd gasped.
Gord threw the packet to the media team that had set up shop on the property's edge.
Aimajerk numbly watched it arc to the reporter, who began looking through them.
"Well I'll be! That's our mayor!"
"What a jerk!"
Handcuffs were clapped upon the Mayor's wrists, and the crowd began to cheer.
Gordon smiled once at Aimajerk, then tore his fine suit off of his body and triumphantly bellowed out the mightiest Tarzan call the world had ever heard. He swung high on a vine, distributing fresh bananas to everyone (except the Mayor), and whooped into the beautiful Sunday morning, letting his beard and loincloth flow freely behind him in the cool Sunday air. | My partner and I were the first on the scene but knew we had backup just seconds away. We were called to a residential area as man was brandishing a gun. When we pulled we noticed multiple people coming to see the commotion and unable to see how dangerous the scene really was. My partner, George, drove up next to the nearest vehicle, one of those trucks that they use to take down trees. We got out and first saw the perp holding a shotgun. He was a small man and older then my own grandfather. He looked so small holding the shotgun.
"Sir put down the gun!" yelled George as we looked on from our position behind our car. Apparently George yelling this got everyone else's attention as we saw numerous bystanders leave the scene and take cover. Unfortunately the perp either couldn't understand him or wasn't in his right mind.
"You can't take it down it's not right it's my land." The old man yelled pointing back at a rotting old tree. The tree was nothing special just some rotted tree which had grown large and looked like it was dieing as its branches were grasping and holding onto the power lines near by.
"Sir we can discuss that after you put the gun down." George exclaimed back at the man who clearly wasn't wanting to let his land go. It was at this point more cruisers pulled up and I felt safer as it wasn't just me and George.
"It's my land you go away or I will shoot." The man exclaimed as he held the gun to his chest.
"Sir please put the gun down and we can talk about this." George said as I noticed more cops pulling guns on this man, who could be seen with tears running down his face. The man yelled some more in his language and then he did what I feared he might do he raised his gun and pointed the barrel towards us. It only took one second of fear and the sight of a gun being pointed directly at me to realize this might be the last time I would get to see my wife. I didn't even realized I shot, the only thing I was focused on was watching the old man fall over with a wound to his leg all for a stupid tree. I heard a few more shots but at that point all I could do was stare at the old man. He was moving but down and was quickly swarmed by the cops and placed in cuffs.
I was placed on leave for two weeks after this event for stress. During this time I told more of the case by the detectives who investigated the shooting. It appears that the man ran from his house with the gun after he saw the tree cutting was going to take place. They had warned him for two months it would take place but the notices were ignored or never read. The old man, Dorin Radu, had been living at the residency for six years with his wife. His wife was noted as missing after the shooting but two days later was found when the tree was pulled down. Apparently she was buried near the stump of the tree with a cross scratched into its bark as the only sign it was a grave. It was later revealed she had been dead for almost a year and died of natural causes. She was transferred to the morgue set to be buried in the coming months. Dorin was questioned heavily and finally admitted to hiding the body. In the notes it followed:
"She fell over and stopped breathing and I wasn't sure what to do. I tried to help but her last breathe left her. She was gone and I had to do what we always do we lay them to rest. I placed her in the ground under the oldest tree like my mother was and her mother. I had to follow tradition or her soul would be lost she had to be buried under the tree and kept there or she would be lost."
During the time he was held and questioned one of the officers informed him she had been moved to the local morgue for proper burial. He was found hanging in his cell from a home-made noose the next day, he had scrawled on a piece of paper "I am so sorry I failed you, I will try to find you." | 2014-11-21T09:03:54 | 2014-11-21T08:58:34 | 46 | 14 |
[WP] "That's odd," it says while drumming its fingers. "You should be screaming. All of our data says that you should be screaming right now." It pauses, and its soulless eyes stare into you. "Why aren't you screaming?" | I stared across the table, tears streaming down my face running into the corners of my smile.
"You know, for a species that's achieved FTL space travel, you're remarkably bad at this."
The lanky, grey skinned creature leaned over the table. It's face was disturbingly blank, smooth grey skin pulled over a long skull with only two sockets that looked empty from where I was sitting disturbing the featureless surface. I have no clue how it spoke with no mouth, but it managed to hiss at me. "I know you're in pain! I know how every cell in your body functions! This display will only make you suffering all the greater! You were instructed to accurately describe your suffering, comply or you will be executed slowly rather than quickly!"
I get a good laugh at my captors expense. If I wasn't already tearing up, I would have started then. "Do you think I could get some food to go with this? You abducted me on an empty stomach."
"You've been poisoned, you fool! There will be no next meal for you! There's no point in stalling for time, no one is coming to save you! This bluff will get you nowhere!"
"I'm not bluffing, you X-Files reject! This isn't poison! You just invented hot sauce!"
Capsaicin. In theory, a perfectly viable way of keeping mammals at bay. According to a documentary I listened to about half of, it was mother natures way of keeping pests out of her garden, until humans came around and took to it like a masochist to a riding crop. The grey's plan was to administer a healthy dose of the stuff to every fresh water source on Earth, let us dry out. Granted, if they put as much in the water as they put in whatever they gave me, their test subject, it would be hell on a lot of people. Lucky for humanity they decided to pick up the kind of guy that puts red pepper on damn near everything he eats. All I had to do was take it with a smile and convince an invading species that we all eat capsaicin for breakfast.
The alien glares at me, then looks over it's shoulder nods occasionally. I think he's communicating with his friends, wherever they might be. Beyond the few feet of floor lit up by the overhead light, the room is pitch black.
"You know, this isn't the only kind of self-inflicted suffering we enjoy down on Earth." I say as I stick my finger into the empty beaker of "poison" in front of me, wiping the sides and licking up the last few drops. "I know you've got your supercomputers and trans-galactic scanners pointed at us from beyond Pluto or whatever, but you should really just take a look at Youtube. We're pretty vain, record ourselves a lot."
It turns back to me. "We have analyzed every DNA strand in every segment of your body. We know you inside and out. Even now, as you claim to be enjoying yourself, you're crying! I will simply up the dosage, and-"
"Ever heard of the Pain Olympics?"
"Explain."
_______________________
"And that's how I convinced an alien species that humans are hedonistic masochists that can't distinguish between pleasure and pain, thus saving the human race from extinction. Good thing they didn't try arsenic first, huh?"
The bartender took my two remaining shots away before I could drink them. "I think you've had enough, son." | "oh... no. Stop, ouch ouch it.. err. It hurts?" I wasn't sure if I was just supposed to yell or what. It's so hard to judge from his expression. I decide to ham it up a bit.
"Not my feet. Please! I can't stand it on my feet. I BEG YOU!"
With a wave my... I guess torturers moved downwards. That wasn't too bad actually and I almost forgot to keep up the act.
"Oh. the agony! Stop not there. not on the arches! oh, ah, a little to the left. Oh ah no the pain oh, whatever you do don't add more pressure. Oh you fiends! How could you!"
If it wasn't for the two obsidian orbs staring at me I would have been in heaven. What the hell was with them?
**We shall add this to our data. You will now tell us were the egg is or else**
"Huh? Egg? Oh that... err well no, I can't really. I mean it's not something I can just hand over. But If you apply for a permit I'm sure another will be allocated to you. A little higher please, Oh the pain oh!"
**We do not lower ourselves to trading with those cattle creatures called Hue-manns.**
He paused and images flooded my brain. Of a glorious civilization, of scientific achievements and bravery on the battle field. The images of conquers that sat at the head of table never to the side.
"Well if you want an egg or even more you'll have to play by the rules. You can't just swoop in here and just demand I give you one! That's not how it works."
**SILENCE BEAST!**
Again images flooded my mind. Enslavement, Pushing carts around like an ox, left outside in the cold at night to fend for myself. And then the last image. A dog being petted by a man just to have his chain yanked away by *HIM*.
"HOW DARE YOU!" I roared and breathed fire turning him into a crisp. The smell of BBQ octopus flesh filled my cave. I looked at the other octopi that were messaging my aching feet with there suckers.
"You have something to say about dragons? Get back to work. You want a dragon egg you apply for it from the the Royal Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare just like everyone else. And tell that damned Wyvern over there that my wages are three days late this month!" | 2018-10-02T19:55:06 | 2018-10-02T19:31:08 | 77 | 10 |
[WP] A Venom-esque symbiote crashes to Earth and bonds with you while you’re lost on a hike. Working together, you quickly find a way back to civilization. It seems like the perfect start to a superhero story. Once you get back home, though, it turns out that all they want is chocolate and cuddles. | “No.” The voice rang crisp and clear in my head, a voice only I could hear. It was like I was possessed. No, not like. I am possessed, though whether it was an alien inside me or a rather fussy toddler, it was getting harder to tell by the day.
“We’ve talked about this, Chip needs a W-A-L-K before you can cuddle.” I look back down to the chocolate lab sitting on my kitchen floor. His big, derpy, loving eyes looked back at me, his face more droopy wrinkles than was usual for a year old lab. A stream of drool dribbled from his mouth, pooling onto the floor.
“I don’t like walks,” the voice in my head protested. “They’re *exhausting*, they make you sweaty and stinky and…and…and your ankle hurts!”
“I told you, that’s an old football injury. It’ll stop hurting after a while.”
“No it doesn’t, you’re just ignoring it!”
“Well, why don’t you ride with Chip for a while? *His* ankle doesn’t hurt.” Chip tilted his head at the mention of his name, his tail thumping against the cabinets.
“NO. Nonono. Nope. Not doing that again. Chip smells too many butts for my taste, and I’m still trying to repress the urge to chase squirrels. Just cuddles for me, thanks.”
“Well if Chip doesn’t get his W-A-L-K, his energetic nature is gonna give me another black eye. Then you’ll have two aches to complain about.”
“Oh, you have more wrong in here than that, the ankle is just the more prominent one. Can we talk about your back?”
“No.” I grabbed the leash and latched it onto Chip’s collar. Chip stood up, more drool pooling on my floor as his excitement grew. My other hand grabbed my keys and threw them in the water bowl. “Really?”
“No. Walks.”
“You’re gonna hurt Chip’s feelings if you keep this up.” The symbiote was silent. I could feel him brooding in my left shoulder. I sighed. “Tell you what. We take Chip out, give him some exercise, let him do his business. Then on the way home, we’ll stop at the corner store and I’ll buy you a candy bar.”
“TWO.”
“Two candy bars.”
“My choice. AND. And. I get to cuddle with Chip.”
“Would you like the shirt off my back too, princess?”
“No thanks, your taste in fashion sucks.”
“Ouch. That hurts.” A black tendril oozes out of my hoodie, lifting the keys out of the dog water as Chip barked playfully at it. It placed the keys in my outstretched palm before sinking once more beneath my flesh. I shove the keys into my pocket, then reach into the drawer.
“Must you?” The voice whispered.
“Yes.” I tug my hoodie down, covering the pistol tucked into my waistband. “Someone has to pay the bills here.” | Don't think about True Crime podcasts. Don't think about the Top 6 People Who Died Horribly in the Woods style youtube videos. Don't think about anything that can will cause panic, because panicking will not help, and generally lead to getting yourself killed faster. Which are things you'd learned from the podcasts and videos you were trying to push out of your mind.
It was easy to go missing in the woods and easy to never be found. When bodies were discovered they were often right next to places rescuers had searched. You could die out here and no one would know happened, so what were the odds of being found alive.
It was easy to go missing in the woods and easy to never be found. When bodies were discovered they were often right next to places rescuers had searched. You could die out here and no one would know what happened, so what were the odds of being found alive.
You wished your content history included more 'how to survive' content. The only thought in your mind is that water is important and mirrors could be used to signal planes. Something from a team-building exercise where you and your colleagues did a thought problem about being lost on a desert island.
You do not have a mirror and your water bottle is empty now. Should you stay still or keep trying to find a way out of the woods? You don't know. When night falls you have no choice but to stop. It's a new moon and wandering around in pitch black isn't really an option.
"Please God," you begin to pray. "I need a guardian angel right about now." The prayer is a product of desperation more than failth. You didn't expect an answer, not really. Not immediately at least.
You close your eyes against the blinding flash of light and you fall to your knees. When you open them something is coming towards you fast, you hear something sliding toward you but you can't see a thing in the dark. You scream and your voice is joined by another. Another scream coming from your mouth.
Then a voice, "Be not afraid." | 2022-02-23T18:55:27 | 2022-02-23T18:50:12 | 29 | 20 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years. | "NUMBER 117737."
Anxious and bewildered, you step up to the counter, behind which sits a very bored looking young man wearing a name tag that says GARY. He takes your ticket and asks, "Name?"
"John Smith. But this has to be a mistake. I don't belong in hell. I lived a good, honest life."
"Yep, that's what they all say." Gary clacks away at his computer, a large, boxy, surprisingly outdated machine, pulling up your records.
"I was! I was faithful to my wife, took care of my kids, always paid my taxes. I even called my mother once a week! There must have been some kind of mistake."
"Nope." A little machine, not unlike a receipt printer, spits out a small slip of paper. Gary tears it off and hands it to you. "That's your sentence. If you go to your left, you'll find a set of elevators. Insert your slip, and it'll take you to the Liaison's Office, where you'll be given your assignment." He recites this in the monotonous, droning manner of a person reading from a script.
"186,292 years! But the guy in front of me only got 145! And he was cheating on his wife! I never cheated on my wife! I was a good family man."
With a beleaguered sigh, Gary swivels the computer screen to face you. "What does it say here under occupation?"
You squint to read the tiny print. "Pest control specialist."
"Exactly. You, Mr. Smith, are single-handedly responsible for the death and suffering of over one billion living creatures over your thirty-year career as an exterminator."
"What?! But it was just mice and rats and bugs. They don't count, they're pests!"
"Article 7, section 3A clearly states that the purposeful taking of life in any form, no matter how inconsequential, warrants an automatic conscription to Hell."
"I was just doing my job!"
Gary rolls his eyes. "Do you know how many times a day I hear that? Move along, you're holding up the line."
Flabbergasted, you step away from the counter, staring down at your little slip of paper.
"NUMBER 117738."
| I racked my brains, I was by no means a saint, but then, who is? I thought back to all the times I didn't intervene in other people's drama, because it was none of my business. Maybe I should have tried harder to help people in those situations? I couldn't help it that I didn't care that the husband of Rachel in accounts was also banging Claire in sales. Sure, I listened to the bitching, but I didn't care. I thought of all the times I sat at my desk aimlessly browsing the internet because I just didn't give a damn about my job. I began to wonder, is apathy a crime punishable by nearly 200,000 years in hell?The more I thought about it the more I realised every negative interaction in my life came from being apathetic. The arguments with my husband because I didn't care what we had for dinner, or what we watched on TV. The daily grind because of my aforementioned job. The lost friendships because I just did not give a shit about their mundane dramas.I should have cared more. I tried, I really tried. Caring is hard. I should have told Claire in sales she was a whore and Rachel in accounts she deserved better. I should have tried harder at work. I should have put more effort into deciding what to have for dinner. 200,000 years is a long time to live with that regret. Day 1 is not the time to start caring.
&#x200B; | 2018-09-26T07:16:16 | 2018-09-26T06:12:40 | 4,281 | 153 |
[WP] You're a first year student at Hogwarts, and you're taking a painting class. As you try to animate your first painting ever, things go horribly wrong. | "Ok, you're a wizard now, you can do this" I tell myself. We had been assigned with painting important wizards from Roman times, and being myself, I automatically chose the hardest one to animate. I'd honestly rather be a Slytherin right now.
Oh who the hell am I kidding, I can't animate this, the last painting I tried to animate kept begging for me to burn it because it was in constant, agonizing pain. The magnitude of magic required for this will only make this worse.
Anyway, let's try to keep a level head about this. Surely something like that is an extremely rare occurence.
**"Pictura Vitaera!"**
The picture starts to appear in it's new frame
It worked!! Jesus Christ, it worked!
Wait...Somethings wrong...Something is terribly wrong.
**I MADE JESUS CHRIST A VELOCIRAPTOR!!**
Dear god, Professor Binn is going to kill me...
*"Hey kid, you wanna learn some dark magic?"*
That voice...it came from the painting...Raptor Jesus can speak...
*"Cmon kid, I've got some good shit right here lol, don't just stand there with that look on your face."*
"How can you even speak right now...uh your reptilianness? You kind of have a velociraptor for a face."
*"Magic, duh fuckwad. How did you even fuck up that bad anyway? Oh, who cares. Hey have you ever seen that one painting with the two aurors and the bag of holding? It's this thing where..."*
Oh god, it's just like last time, only worse.
*"...and they take the bag of holding and they..."*
I need to fix this before it becomes an even bigger problem.
*"...so the hot one points her wand at her ass and says Alohomora and this huge wave of..."*
**BOMBARDA MAXIMA**, the entire painting and my easel explode, destroying the abomination I've unintentionally created.
It's over, no one will ever know about this...
Exhausted from worrying, I manage to slip out a few words in triumph.
"Fuck you Raptor Jesus." | ---
Okay, I can do this. I know the wand movements, the incantation. All of it.
This painting here of Professor Dumbledore is quite marvelous, and I just can't mess it up! Oh, what if something goes wrong?
I have to be optimistic about this! If I'm not, the spell will go wrong. I can do this.
Oh man, Johnny over here already animated his! Ah, look at his cat Buttersnaps walk around. It's so life-like! He's so good at everything here, it's almost like he's been practicing his whole life.
Argh, no! No distractions. I have to do this now!
One..
Two..
Three!
..
Why..
Why is Headmaster Dumbledore doing that? I had no idea he could hula dance.
Oh gosh, the Professor is headed this way! What do I do?!
I think.. I should try casting the spell again. And not mess up this time! Yeah!
One..
Two..
Three!
..
Wow. I didn't know he could do that either. Is he.. Is that.. Gangnam Style?
No, this is all wrong!
One..
Two..
Three!
No, no, no! Not the dougie! That's not even popular in muggle culture anymore!
One..
Two..
Three!
Oh, come on! How would the Headmaster even know what the whip is!
--- | 2015-06-26T12:00:30 | 2015-06-26T11:40:42 | 30 | 14 |
[WP] You are a supervillain, shaped by your past. Your parents were influential members of society, but at home they gave the golden child everything and shunned the other. You were the golden child, and you have sworn revenge for your sister. |
I never had any trouble in my life. My parents did everything for me. They showered me in love, gave me an allowance that could have let me buy half a city if I wanted to. And yet, it was just yesterday that I found out…. I found out that I *had* a sister.
She was never brought up before, in the twenty five years I’ve been alive. She was my older sister. And they didn’t even tell me about her when she died a year ago. It was a maid, a damn maid that told me, and only because she was pissed off after being fired. I nearly damn killed her when I went into a fit of rage.
My right hand constantly shifts back and forth from a fist to an open hand. A nervous tick of mine along with plenty others I got from learning the ‘business’ from my folks. Turns out that business was made up of lies.
I press the call button on my desk, connecting me to my secretary. I usually let her utter the first words, the motto of the business I made, “How can the Safest genetic clinic in the world help you today,” but I’d rather not get interrupted right now. “Cancel all my meetings today,” I whisper into the speaker before letting go of the button, disconnecting the call.
What now? That question used to bother me horribly when I turned sixteen and felt a need to leave my parents nest. I thought I relied on them too much, felt a responsibility to walk on my own. Now I wish I made their lives a miserable wreck. Why wasn’t I an utter brat? Damn it, damn it, damn it. What's next?
I lean back in my chair, glance at the tied up, bloodied maid in my office and sigh. She notices my glare, immediately starting to beg and drown me in apologies. “I didn’t know until a few years ago, I couldn’t have done anything, I would have been killed.” As she shouts a tooth falls from her mouth, but then another comes right back out in its place.
“Tell me then, if you were just a maid, why are you like this?” My hand taps onto a display screen on my desk, turning on a monitor that's hooked up to her. Needles check her blood pressure and straps record her heartbeat and brain waves.
“Please sir, I’m the one that came to you. I’m the only reason you know about her!”
“Answer my question. Why did they find you important enough to make you like this.” I look over the blood on her clothes and skin. None of the gashes I made are there. At first I felt relieved that I didn’t actually kill anyone in my rage, but then again, “Why did they genetically alter you?”
She freezes up with shaking lips. “I don’t know sir,” she says before the monitor starts to violently scream out a siren. It’s loud enough to drown out the gunshot that follows, as I dragged a pistol out from a nearby drawer and shot into her forehead.
The blair stops along with her vitals and my bad mood turns worse. What’s next? I glance at the slip of paper on my desk, sloppily written with an address. I press onto the secretaries button again, staying silent for a few moments this time as I try to come up with a coherent sentence. “The cleaners are on their way,” she says with a slight tone of amusement. “So how's your first kill feel?”
“Horrible utterly,” I say with relief at my choice of recruitment. “I can never understand you serial killers, enjoying this type of thing.”
“Isn’t that why you hired us, to make sure you never do?” I can hear her filing her nails on the other side of the phone. “Next time, let us do our job, our actual job. We wouldn’t want our boss to trigger his serial killer gene, now would we?”
“I always intended your secretary position to be your *actual* job. But, I might ask all of you for overtime shifts. Anyway, get the car around, I’m visiting my sister's grave.”
“You have a sister?”
“I just found out yesterday.” I take my hand off the button, drag on a coat as two janitors come in and start scrubbing the floor. People always called me insane for hiring convicted serial killers, or in general those with the gene. But I guess I might have always known this day would come, when the golden child comes back with a vendetta. I could care less what happens to this city, to the people that get caught up in the feud. I’ll kill the two of them, I’ll find out why my sister was hidden from me, and then I’ll come back here like nothing ever happened and maybe, just maybe, try and start some anger management classes. | My sister is the closest family member I still have contact too. My parents don´t get why I am "So ungrateful" and "Disrespecting". They tried (and failed) multiple times to get into my house after I moved away, tried to force me to let them see my daughter. They even stole my car, to force me to live with them again.
All of that after I was showered in spoilings, riches and "love", for the years I lived with them.
But my sister had it really bad. My sister was basically homeless. She was born before me, but "A woman like her cannot earn our status." as they said "She is not allowed to inherit. She will spend it all on drugs and alcohol, or give it to charity." And whenever I spoke up about it, they dropped their maskes to insult me, gaslight me, guilt trip me, to just retunr to their normal faces.
&#x200B;
After they finally got their "rightous" place under the cities Elite, they were able to take control of the cities Superheroconsil. My sister´s life got worse every day from there on. Almost weekly raids by police and different heroes, arrested hundrets of times. No place would take her. She was truly homeless then.
I finally was able to get her of the street. She lived with me, got a job online, being able to help with money a bit. Her determination was inspiring.
So, I had an idea. They destroyed our lives, for their gain. They tortured my sister for 3 decades now. Now is "the objectivly better human" here to finally teach them a lesson. Now it is time to show the world their true selves.
&#x200B;
So I informed my sister about my plan. She only asked for one thing: Don´t tell her, so she doesn´t have to lie about that.
&#x200B;
And with that a few weeks later a small bomb detonated, making sure nobody but them got damages from it. And a singular letter in their now charred post box:
"Dear below-human scum.
I will now comence to destroy every bit of your life, for what you have done, to so many humans. Let´s start with the beautiful garden. I am sorry for the gardener tho, he put so much work into it, sadly you were able to wiggle your little fat bags out of payment, multiple times.
Would be a shame if that would come out to the public right, especially with how much money you have in off-shore bank accounts, right?"
I didn´t had a name for me atm, but believe me, the media was going wild with the anonymous data coming in. Imagine the scandal?
But guess who got paid a pretty nice sum of tax fraud money to shout up? Excatly, the media´s Company CEO.
&#x200B;
And with that little stone being flipped I was able to show the world, how bad this city truly is. Almost everyone in power was corrupt, those who were not, died in freak accidents, the police said "were unsolvable". Citizens were under arrest for no apparent reason, later showing they voiced criticism against heores. The poor got poorer every second, and the rich pocketed money left, right and centre.
&#x200B;
Me and my sister moved away quickly, to a better city, without this horror following us.
Nobody knew who Absolution actually was, nobody when Absolution will reveal the thruth again, but in the old city? Never again. It doesn´t exist anymore. The city got wipped out after a up and coming villian who tried to mimic me, got a critical hit onto Starlight, killing her while charging her Ultimate Ability, killing everybody. Except the lot which moved away in droves, before the city caged everybody in the city, after hemorrhaging taxes.
We survived and Absolution will keep quite for now, but maybe, maybe some day. he will be needed again. | 2020-10-19T09:28:32 | 2020-10-19T08:35:46 | 197 | 64 |
[WP] among the many senses developed on alien worlds, hearing is not one of them. To most extra terrestrials, the idea that we can detect them even with a wall between us is utterly horrifying | The chittering, clicking of the hive resonated through the cavern – they were close now. The hunters, we called them, they chased us deep underground into the caverns. Here, without the use of their wings and beady eyes, we finally held an advantage. The caverns were filled with the stench of Sulphur; the air was thick and heavy, masking our scent, blocking our pheromones. Our only sense – our hearing.
It was the single advantage the humans held over the winged terrors, and we intended to use it.
“Into the crevice, quickly now. I can hear them; get ready” I said, clutching my assault rifle.
I pressed my chin against the cavern wall, listening to the clicking and buzzing of the creature as it rounded the corner. It scuttled past me in the darkness; I aimed toward the sound and fired two successive bursts. The suppressor dampened the flash, but I could see the insectile form splatter with green blood as my bullets found their home.
“Reggie are you there?” I yelled, my ears still ringing. I could only hope he was wearing his earplugs.
“I’m here, just down the cavern. You got the bastard all right. My turn now.”
This was our routine, one would listen, one would recover. It was all we could do – we needed to hear to shoot – and if we shot we couldn’t hear. It was all we could do to keep the element of surprise in these dark, forsaken caverns. I felt him brush up against me in the darkness and handed him the rifle.
“We need to move down further – I think I heard a source of water.” Reggie said.
“If we go too deep, we won’t be able to find our way up.” I said.
“And if we stay, those bugs are going to find us and kill us. We need to stay one step ahead of them – you know how their hive mind works.”
I grimaced. Reggie was right. They already knew we were here – and this time they would be expecting the trap. We had to move – and fast. I installed my pair of earplugs, blocking my hearing completely. We proceeded further into the catacomb, Reggie holding my hand as I crawled along the cavern wall. We came to an intersection and Reggie squeezed my hand. The bugs were coming. I pressed myself flat on the ground, pushing my ear against the hard, stone walls. I could hear through the stone, small vibrations. The buzzing – their wings. One of the caverns must be wide enough for them to fly.
I heard the familiar burst of the rifle, and the muzzle flash illuminated the steam through the cavern. I felt something land on top of me and screamed. It was one of the hunters, still alive. I had my sidearm ready and took a shot in the darkness. I felt blood spatter my face as the bug landed in my lap, twitching. I removed my glove and put a hand on it’s quivering eyes. *Here we go again.* With a touch - I was connected to the alien mind.
*Pain – Fear. How can they find us? The steam - we cannot see through; we cannot fly. These things – so weak and pathetic on land and sky – they become the hunters now. They are ghosts in the cavern. They move down towards the source. They must be close now – do they know what they approach? We must stop them before they reach it.*
I gasp, pulling my hand away from the creatures’ eyes. This was a trick we learned when the war began. When the creature dies, the connection to their hive becomes strong – strong enough to be tangible, even to humans.
“Reggie? You alright? It’s my turn now.” I said, removing my earplugs. I grab the rifle from him.
“What happened?” He asked, shouting.
“Keep it down, I can hear just fine." I shouted. "I connected with the hive. Apparently, there’s something ahead the bugs are terrified of.”
“Well, if the bugs won’t go there, it’ll be safe for us” Reggie said, lowering his voice.
What is ‘safe’ these days anyway? Regardless, Reggie was right – we needed to move on. If there was something down there, we might as well find it.
&#x200B;
r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | The cool earth cushioned softly beneath Blue-Green-Magenta's bare soles. He looked to his aide, Red-Scarlet-Teal, who nodded ahead to Ms. Hawk's home door, quiet as any world.
Eyes looked between blinds from houses around the street. Children-to-gods of all earthling years peered at the iridescent, slightly moving scales of... "*I wonder what we'll call them,"* thought a boy. His father, too shocked since the reverberation of windows and ear-piercing shrill of dying engines, forgot to ask himself how to care for a child in such a new world.
The boy noticed their clothes. Black--every piece. Except three verticle circles--three down the spine, three down the front, and three on each sleeve. One of the beings walked up behind Blue-Green-Magenta to gently trace his spine from blue circle, green, to magenta.
Blue-Green-Magenta turned around.
The Tracer One began an intracate dance of eight long, four-knuckled, graspers on each hand. Blue-Green-Magenta watched, unblinking. The boy *had* seen them blink. He was surprised by the deep purple of their eyes. He wasn't sure to be more terrified that they could close their eyes, as opposed to never blinking like dead things do.
Blue-Green-Magenta made an arrangement of graspers of one hand, held in the air between the Tracer One and himself. Upon command, the Tracer's graspers went still. Not to his sides.
Still.
Blue-Green-Magenta turned his attention once more to the task at hand. The boy became uncomfortable, as Blue-Green-Magenta and The One Who Nodded, Red-Scarlet-Teal, starred at each other.
Minutes passed.
The boy's father remembered him. "Dan, I need you to go to your room." Arrival of whining police sirens spoke the panic and indignance of the boy. The sirens sounded like they'd stopped a small subdivision street or two away. The boy and father heard more gather on streets to the left--and on the street behind the fence of Ms. Hawk's backyard, ahead. "Dan, I have..." The boy looked to the dinosaur toy he'd enjoyed just a quarter hour ago till Earth felt new soles. "Dan."
The boy quickly walked to his toy, swapped it up, and turned into the hallway. The father heard the door slam. As he turned back to peer through the liviing room blinds, he heard the plastic whur of the boy's bedroom blinds rise. "DAN!" A crash of plastic, three stomps, and the puff of a comforter.
Now that his boy was (again) no longer a distraction, Mr. Jenson turned his attention again to Them. *Why... Why are they outside Ms. Hawk's door?*
Blue-Green-Magenta raised an iridescent scaled fist, between himself and the wooden door that stood silent and still as the Tracer. Red-Scarlet-Teal reached inside a thigh pocket, produced a sheet of paper, held it as a sign, facing the door. Mr. Jenson wondered what they would write... *Draw?*...
The alien fist would have made contact with the door, awkward and unpracticed, but it opened. The eyes that had been in the window of the second floor were no longer there. Ms. Hawk stared, wide-eyed, taken aback. She thought maybe deep purple eyes stared, too. She noticed the sign.
*Ms. Stacey Hawk, President of the National Association of the Deaf?*
\[continued in comment below\] | 2018-11-02T21:24:32 | 2018-11-02T20:00:37 | 199 | 115 |
[WP] Every human has their soulmate's last words to them engraved in their skin from birth.
Idea from this Tumblr post
https://scontent-lga1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpt1/v/t1.0-9/11206957_778391755645357_8477035769704355007_n.png?oh=5b3f35d575ad3aa39d6ba5c5ed39cce2&oe=56549C83 | Did our Words doom us to failure? Or was it just me?
Alice had hoped never to meet her soul mate. She met me through some godawful fucking boring work thing, and she caught my eye from across the room. Her Words started tucked up behind her left ear, and plunged into her neckline, tantalizingly low but not enough to finish them. "I'm much happi--"
We only had to talk for an hour before I knew we were going to make up an excuse to leave together. It was early enough in the evening that we could find a diner or bar. We chose a Denny's nearer to my house than hers. It was the first place we ever told a consequence-free lie together, to our waitress.
We both loved lies like those. She would tell clients at work she'd never see again that her father owned a rhubarb farm in New Mexico. I think she fell in love with me the more details I added to her dumb lie. "Emus are a real pain for a professional rhubarb farmer." "Rhubarb is the best-selling produce in Tesuque." "Cormac McCarthy basically wrote Blood Meridian on dad's farm." Consequence free.
At Denny's is when she told me she never wanted to meet her soul mate. After Denny's is when I found out why.
Her shirt came off and I guess I'm a nerd because even with a pair of breasts in front of me I had to read the words. "I'm much happier without you." I'd known her a night and already the thought was mind-boggling to me. Over the next several months it only became more so. Alice was light, she was funny, she made fun of me because my Words are right in tramp stamp territory. We were an argument against pre-determination. We fell in love and knew each other so well. It was impossible that we could ever say our Words to each other. But there was no doubt we were soul mates.
But neither of us had ever met someone who escaped their Words. And that's where the fear came in. What could make me say that to her? Would she cheat on me? Murder my family? Surely if I ever said those words to her, the reason would be monumental. But everything was so perfect. The only monuments could be to how well we'd woven together.
But I was afraid, and my fear made her afraid. She never buckled. I started drinking.
We still told lies to strangers, I still told them about how my second cousin invented velcro while she stifled laughter which she'd let loose when we were alone. Her laugh was huge and unabashed for such a small girl. But there were other lies too. My lies about how late I was gonna be out, her lies about how happy she still was.
The end of us came so many times. It wasn't an inevitable whirlpool we were being sucked into. Our heads bobbed under the water so many times but we came back up. But eventually she had to be done with me. I couldn't blame her. I was insufferable.
The really bad moment, the real end of it all, came months after. I would call her sometimes, drunk, trying not to wake up whoever was in bed beside me. I caught a little timeline of her life after me, the mourning, the new boyfriend, the weird updates to her family's affairs she couldn't help but tell me even though I was sloshed.
The last phone call *was* inevitable. It was like I'd tied her up on the railroad tracks and was determined to barrel over her. We talked, I was so bitter, I was spitting every word by the end. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted her to know I was her soul mate and she'd lost everything when she left me. So I said it, sickened by myself. "I'm much happier without you." She was crying, I could tell she was, when she asked, "Is that how you really want this to go?" She was trying to trick me into more words, trying to avoid the truth, but I stayed silent. So she said my Words, disappointed and crying but somehow resolute. "Please just...don't call me again."
We were both quiet for a few minutes and when she hung up I laid down with a hole in my stomach. Some lies aren't consequence free. | Theres a rule on this rock. A rule that seems almost divine i would say if i wasnt an atheist but this rule is neutral to both sides it can be a curse or it can be a blessing. The rule is that when a child is born a cosmic link is formed between the enfant and another. A link that is so simple yet so cimplex to its principal. The rule is that the last words of the babes soulmate be etched into their skin at the base of the cranium on the nape of their neck. Me, well my curse is a greeting. The last word my supposed soulmate will say to me is hello. A greeting a goddamned fucking greeting and people wonder why i resent them why i barely go out and glare at everyones face as i walk by. Ive made a reputation for myself as the man who has no friends, no enemies, just nobody and yet people know me by the brand ive been marked with. I couldnt even finish elementary school as a child. Im not stupid I homeschooled myself and came out brighter than anyone else ive come across. But only through my adversity did i become stronger. The terrors came nightly as a child everyone always saying hello to me then dissapearing one way or another into the abyss. I keep to myself not because i hate people thats just what became of it. I keep to myself because ive always known the cold hard fact that when i do meet the love of my life she will be taken from me before i even get to know her name. The only thing keeping me alive in this world is that I have come to accept I am truly alone in this world and though i dont want to admit it because it almost seems as though im relinquishing all power from myself by saying it but lately ive come to realize Im almost ok with it. Ive worked hard and made my existence comfortable though lonely it may be. Ive got a penthouse on a highrise and if you look from the outside the windows are almost mirrored to reflect the sun and my god in the mornings it looks beautiful. I have almost become like a god among men of sorts. Though i know im still human and mortal ive been feeling as though my solitude has made me better than everyone else. Childish thoughts i know but it eases my existence. And recently ive picked up a new habit that i can easily afford. Ive been chasing my ego with highend alcohol. The aristocracy that ive found is satisfying and for once im starting to like who i am regardless if i die alone. Then like a force of a tsunami it happened one day i just snapped. I was so self absorbed my narcissism had taken over and i drank my mini bar dry because why not is that not fit for a god. But i tripped and stumbled and puked and needed some air. I was standing on the balcony edge in a wave of self loathing when i realized there is no one out there for me my etchings were paradoxical because i had never spoken to anyone out of fear it had only myself to take words from and as i slowly realized what this meant i looked into the sliding mirror door behind me and saw the mess of a man i really was no this wasnt love or the stars aligning to show me my soulmate. This was a revelation that i was so scared to live my life i never became a person until this very second but it was too late. I said hello to the man in the mirror and stepped back off the ledge. | 2015-08-08T13:15:48 | 2015-08-08T11:31:06 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] You're 80 years old and time travel is possible. You sit down for dinner with earlier versions of yourself at age 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, 60 and 70. Conversation ensues. | 10 looks around the room and calls out "Really? Wow!" The idea of being 30 was foreign to 10, much less being older than 30. That would be older than his parents, and they were oooold.
50 sighs deeply and looks at his feet. Flexing his neck and waiting to see what happens.
20 and 30 size each other up, then 30 reaches over and swats 20 across the head. "You idiot. I would lecture myself, but it seems kinda pointless. But you'll get through it."
Sitting calmly and eating turkey with mashed potatoes and gravy was 70. He ignored everyone else, there wasn't much to discuss as he had retired a few years back and had gotten used to the idea.
60 seemed impatient, and by now, he knew the outcome, even though he didn't want to believe it.
Staring was all that 40 could do, he just stared... at 80. Time travel, that he could believe in. Meeting yourself at a neutral point in time, sure, he could understand that. But this?
80 was giggling like a fool. He looked around the room at everyone, grinned from ear to ear and exclaimed, "Yes gentlemen, you ACTUALLY live to be 80 years old!", then let out a holler and laughed to the point of tears.
| 10: You're a little young for this, but leave girls alone until college.
20: Stay off the cocaine. Start saving for retirement.
30: Don't get married more than once. If at all.
40: Buy whatever you want.
50: Are you still in a shit career? Stop. Go fishing for six months.
60: Did you save enough for retirement? Good. Retire.
70: How much whiskey did you drink today? Go buy more.
80: If you're not dead, get it over with. You had a good life. | 2016-08-24T16:21:10 | 2016-08-24T15:43:49 | 57 | 40 |
[WP] Write a suicide note in a Dr. Suess like fashion. | I've made up my mind, this is the end
I've said my goodbyes to family and friends
However they don't know that I'm leaving tonight
I've struggled too long and can no longer fight
I walk back home after a long day of work
And get on reddit to routinely lurk
I see a post on "W-P"
And smile slightly at the irony
Dr. Seuss? I've read a book or two
If I can recall a red fish and a blue?
And who could forget green eggs and ham?
My mother used to read it as well as my Grams
My eyes started to water as I closed my computer
Then a knock at my door, who was this intruder?
I wipe my face as well as my nose
And walk to the door as I straighten my clothes
I crack it open and to my surprise
There stood the pizza delivery guy
Paranoid. Did he know? Probably not
I guess I ordered but must've forgot
But then the name on his shirt caught my eye
And I let out a soft chuckle mixed with a cry
He tried to calm me down but it was no use
Then he hugged me. The man's name, Seuss.
| I can not take this, no way man;
I can not take this, not a fan
of days so doomy filled with spite;
of days so gloomy; no respite
I loved the days spent with you all
I loved the days before my fall;
please don't be down or start to cry
for now I'm free, my turn to fly!
| 2015-01-17T09:55:19 | 2015-01-17T09:43:08 | 120 | 13 |
[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. | It had been a busy week and I was kicking off Friday with a brew. My teenage nightmare of a Friday had turned into my adulthood goal, a quiet night in and video games until too late in the evening.
I set the beer down on the end table, turned around to flop down on the couch when the air was instantly filled with smoke.
I coughed and waved my hand to dispel it, less startled than I should have been given the circumstances. The smoke was gone in an instant, and I looked for the source, only to realize I was not in my living room any more.
Instead i was in what appeared to be in a small cavern. There were three concentric circles drawn around me in some kind of powder. The closest circle, about 10 feet across, was done in black, then grey and the outermost was in white. There were candles burning, and a crude clay bowl sat on the ground filled with water.
I didn't see the beings at first, until they started making noise. They were small, about up to my ribs, and looked like something from Star Wars. Kinda like a fuzzy Greedo.
Two of them were talking very quickly. The third stared motionless for a few minutes until it burst into tears.
"What on Earth is going on?"
There was an instant of silence and then the other two burst into tears, then the whole lot ran out of the cavern.
What the fuck?
Seeing nothing else to do at the moment, I took measure of my surroundings. I walked out of the circles and strangely felt a slight tug as I passed over them. Odd.
The cavern was pretty big but not colossal. It wasn't a Minecraft style cave that led into the depths of the earth, but the rocky ceiling sloped downward and met the ground maybe two hundred feet from the entrance.
There was a commotion outside as several of those same things came back. These were bigger, and they carried crude spears and shields, made of wood and hide. There were eight of them, followed by a ninth who carried a crude book. The one with the book said a few words, and the others spread out, forming a loose semicircle between myself and the entrance. They closed and leveled their spears.
I put my hands up and tried to smile. I had no idea what the fuck was going on and I wasn't about to be stabbed to death by murderous knock off bounty hunters. I spoke "hey guys, let's all..."
Two shouted, one yelped and they all charged, the spears flashing forward and striking me. Fuck. I guessed that this is how I would go.
There was no pain, just some mild discomfort in a few spots on my body. I opened my eyes after I realized I'd squeezed them shut. The spears were driven into me, the aliens stances showed that they had their full weight behind the thrusts. I looked down. The spear points made tiny dents in my skin.
Poke poke. They attacked again, one hit my belly button and I winced. That's sensitive. He looked pleased with himself, pushed his spear in deeper and twisted it.
"Dude. Stop." I slapped the spear away. I was startled when it exploded into splinters as my hand touched it. The once victorious Greedo held the broken haft, a look of utter horror on his face. He steeled himself as the others backed away, drew a stone knife and charged me, driving it into my chest again and again.
I let him do it. It didn't bother me, and maybe it would be good for him to wear himself out. He was at it for a few minutes maybe before he sagged, lowered himself and made one final stab right at my nads. That was not ok. I held up my hand, stopped the knife, grabbed the blade and pulled it away from him.
He screamed, clutching his now empty hand. Was he a fucking soccer player? Jesus. I looked again and saw he had broken fingers. Had I done that? I hadn't meant to. Fuck me, were these people made of tissue paper or something?
Feeling like the lowest kind of asshole, I offered an apology. The others closed with spears level and the injured Greedo withdrew, cradling his hand. I watched as I was stabbed over and over to no effect.
The one with the book examined the hand and drew his own knife, said something and began to cut. Amputation? Jesus!
I walked forward, gently pushed the others aside and moved to the injured guy. He was terrified. The one with the book opened it, read something and a bolt of lightning snapped from his fingers. It hurt about the same as touching metal after rubbing your feet on the carpet.
I sighed, and took his book away as gently as I could, he released it and cowered.
The injured guy was on the ground now, his eyes full of fear. I could see why. I was evidently Hercules and they were cavemen made of marshmallows.
Remembering my first aid course I ripped a bit of my shirt off and pressed it against his bleeding incision. The bleeding stopped and I looked for a splint. No dice, maybe...
I ran over and took one of the others spears and worked at it. My finger nails cut through it like it was butter. My teeth worked even better. I bit through it and got a piece about as thin as my own finger, and as gently as possible used the stick as a splint, tying it in place.
"Ok. So that's done. Now can we talk?"
Nothing.
"I'm not going to hurt you."
Nothing.
"Boo!"
Screams.
They looked on in abject horror, none of them moving. "Sorry about your hand, buddy." I sighed. "Here's your book." I handed the tome back to the Greedo who had it earlier, who took it with shaking hands...
(I'll write more a little later today if there's any interest)
Edit: I've replied with part 2. I'll keep going with part 3 later.
Edit: Like my stories? Check out my brand new subreddit over at /r/jsgunn! | "What do you mean I can't leave these drinks on my tab? I've been coming here for years."
"New corporate rules. Ever since we were bought out by Wild Buffalo Bar Corp. No running tabs, no discounts, no happy hours," explained Chet, my favorite bartender.
"Well I guess I better go hit the ATM and see what I've got in the bank. I don't get paid until tomorrow," I explained as I walked off to the store across the street. The rain had looked quiet and gentle from outside, but now as I crossed the street it was cold and uninviting. As I approach the ATM is notice the out of order sign. I shrug and make my way back across the street. "Well Chet I guess put this on my credit card."
He takes the card and swipes, swipes again, and then looks at me with a mixture of sympathy and frustration. "Declined. Sorry man. Look I'll get your drinks tonight if you pay me back tomorrow." He stopped polishing the bar for a moment to note the television. President Donald Trump was on the news again.
"If I didn't know any better I would say we're in hell, Chet." I left the bar around midnight to drown my sorrows at home. It had been a long day at the office. Telemarketing was the only work I had been able to find after I was laid off in 2008. Every day was miserable and the only relief was getting drunk enough to forget what I would be doing for work the next day.
But something was wrong. I didn't recognize this street at all. There were cobblestones and streetlamps. Some kind of vintage lamps I guess, that looked like real fire. There was a smell in the air I didn't quite recognize, were they burning real oil? Since when did the city do this kind of thing?
I stopped dead in my tracks as I realized I was surrounded by a circle of candles. Below my feet were some kind of ancient runes that glowed and shifted positions. I turned to see a small, childlike figure wearing a dark wide-brimmed hat and oversized spectacles.
"Who the fuck are you?!" I shouted as the startled figure squeaked and jumped behind a stack of barrels. He remained there paralyzed with fear for several seconds. "What the fuck is going on here? Why am I standing in this circle of candles?"
Determined to get home, I started to turn around and go the way I came. As I walked over the candles however, I was blown backwards by some powerful force. The childlike figure behind the barrels changed his expression into one of sheer joy.
"It works!" He exclaimed. He came out from behind the barrels, adjusting his glasses and examining me closely. I realized he was not a child, but rather a very small and dainty old man in over sized clothes. "Tell me your name demon," he asked in a now somewhat commanding tone.
"Jamal," I replied. "And I'm not a demon. Who the fuck are you."
"I'm Cervilpop the magician. I have summoned you to help us in the great war against the Mugwumps. And of course you are a demon, look how big you are. Your frightening features, you coarse voice. If you aren't a demon you sure look like one."
"Okay...Mugwumps?"
"Yes a terrible race of ferocious creatures. We have been in conflict for years now. But now that we have a powerful demon on our side, victory will be ours!"
"I'm not a demon," I explained. "I'm just a guy trying to get back home."
"Home to hell you mean? Ha. You may not return until you have done my service, those are the rules."
"I have to help you kill Mugwumps and then I go home?" I asked skeptically. I kept looking around for the cameras knowing this was some kind of viral video. A disturbed expression crossed Cervilpop's face.
"Kill them? Oh lords, no! Jamal, we need you to take up arms to defeat them in honorable combat, an epic game of dodge ball to end this war once in for all!"
"Wait, dodgeball? You've been fighting a war for centuries over dodge ball?" What kind of crazy world is this? Wouldn't it be easier just to fight them in a real war?"
Cervilpop laughed nervously. "Maybe that's how it all works in hell, but here we settle our differences with honor. Combat by dodgeball is the most honorable combat there is. We play dodgeball against the Mugwumps because they want to paint the Great Hall we all eat and drink in yellow. Yellow! can you imagine that?"
I shrugged. I figured maybe this was it. I have finally had a nervous breakdown. "So where's this great hall?"
"Two blocks that way," he replied gesturing over his shoulder.
"Beer there?"
"Of course."
"How much does it cost?" I asked skeptically.
"It's beer, it doesn't cost anything."
"Maybe I am from hell. Show me this great hall, Cervilpop. I'm down for a game of dodge ball, too, whenever."
| 2017-05-12T09:09:01 | 2017-05-12T08:29:21 | 556 | 347 |
[WP] You are a world famous super hero and single mother with a secret identity. One day you bring your eight year old son to his new friend's house, and meet his mother who you've heard is also a single mom. Unfortunately she turns out to be your evil arch nemesis and you recognize each other. | The spikes were what did it.
A white picket fence is good and all, especially when paired with an immaculate lawn and neat garden beds filled to the brim with daffodils and lilies. Red bricks too, with wide, open windows and a welcome mat that actually said ‘welcome’ rather than spouting some amusing turn of phrase.
But those spikes…
They just jutted up from the roof with seemingly no purpose whatsoever. Antenna perhaps? They didn’t look like any Jade had seen before.
“Hey, sweetie—” she began to ask.
“Don’t call me sweetie Mom! It’s embarrassing,” her son interrupted, the look of righteous indignation adorable on his sweet little face.
“Oh. Sorry, *Jack*, has Lily ever told you about her parents?”
He frowned. “Um, I don’t know. It’s just her Mom, I think. Come on, we’re gonna be late!”
Jade sighed internally at that, and hoped that if her son was right, this was one of the times that single parentage came from a positive place, rather than tragedy. Jack had come far earlier in her life than she might have wished, and though his father had remained around to help out from a distance, the two of them had never been cut out as life partners.
She rang the doorbell, feeling the satisfying *click* as the button was pressed.
*Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong!*
A dark silhouette was briefly visible behind heavily frosted glass, and then the door opened.
A woman stood behind it, smiling genuinely despite the exhaustion evident in slump of her figure, in the dark shadows that touched at her eyes from below.
Jade froze, then her hand snapped out with superhuman speed to grasp at the back of Jack’s shirt, and he yelped in surprise as she pulled him behind her. The woman blinked, visibly shrugging off her grogginess in an instant as she caught that extra ordinary motion.
“Get back!” she shouted out, her eyes widening with recognition.
Jade saw a small figure peaking around the woman’s legs, long hair twisting between delicate fingers. *Lily* she thought, and watched with morbid interest as the woman before her ushered the girl back without ever taking her eyes off Jade.
It was like watching a tiger feed a bloody carcass to its cub, strangely endearing to see but also horrifying to understand that a killer could still love.
If it weren’t for the spikes, she probably never would have recognised the woman. But she’d seen them, and in seeing them had been put in just the right frame of mind. Her… nemesis, if such a word could ever truthfully be used to describe a person, was fond of the things, infamous for decorating her costumes and machines with them to an almost comical effect. She’d always been one of those supers to make do with a simple domino mask, despite the inherit dangers to revealing her identity, and so the face in front of her was just familiar enough to know.
Before Jade, standing in all her domestic glory, stood a villain known as Gadget—the hero killer, the death of cities, the ghost in the machine.
They stood as mirrors to each other, each poised to fight but each unwilling to do so with their children so close at hand.
“Ah,” Gadget said, eyes flicking around rapidly as if searching for the rest of the heroic team that must surely be around. “It’s… you. Isn’t it? Shiiii—dang, it is. This is… unexpected.”
“As if you didn’t plan this!” Jade spat back accusingly, but almost immediately began to doubt her own words.
Gadget was famous for being prepared for almost any situation, but right here, right now… she seemed entirely out of her element. Though it could, of course, be an act.
*I could take her…* Jade suddenly realised.
Gadget wasn’t wearing a mech suit, or a shield belt or any of the other hundred things she used to protect herself from heroes. It would be so easy…
As long as she was willing to fight the villain in front of her own daughter, and Jack too.
“Um,” Gadget said, sounding unsure. “What… ah, what happens now?”
“Mommy?” Jack asked, staring at Jade with hurt eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing sweetie,” she said, and he didn’t contradict that fond moniker now. “Nothing at all. But, go back to the car Jack, please.”
“But whhhhhy?”
“*Because I told you so!”*
“But—”
“*Now*, Jack.”
Under protest, he did, and Gadget similarly sent Lily to her room.
“Ok,” Jade said, feeling a little better now the children were away from harm. “Ok. Now, we’re going to do this cleanly, and calmly. You have the right—”
“Woa!” Gadget exclaimed, holding up a hand. “You can’t arrest me, not in my own damn house!”
“Ha,” Jade said, speaking the laugh aloud as a word. “And why not?”
“Cause of the cameras!” Gadget replied, pointing up at the ceiling of the veranda. There, undeniably, was a small device pointing down, lens glinting in the morning sun. “You take me away, those videos go public and your secret identity goes *poof*. Everyone’ll know your face!”
Jade let out a breath.
“They’ll know your face too.”
Gadget let out an amused breath. “Like that matters if I’m arrested.”
“Maybe that’s worth it, to bring you in.”
Gadget laughed, and the weariness that Jade had seen before seeped back in. “Maybe if the world was just me and you, but it aint. I’m not the only one who’s out to get ya, and you *know it*. If they see your face, that means they can figure out who Jack is,”—Jade winced at her son’s name being spoken aloud by the techno horror—“and you really think they’d hesitate a second before *using that*? Back off bitch, I got you.”
“But… but you’re the *hero killer*. Voltr, The Bear, Tiny Man… they’re all gone because of *you*. I can’t let you go…”
Gadget grimaced, turning away slightly. “I never wanted them dead. They just… they just kept coming. What was I supposed to do, just give up when I was winning?”
“Yes!” Jade exclaimed. “How were their lives worth less than your… your schemes!”
“Because my ‘schemes’ will save the world!”
“Or destroy it!”
“At least I’m trying a proper fix! All you goody idiots do is throw bandaids at rivers of blood, buying just another day. The days are going to run out eventually, and you *know that*.”
A silence settled down upon the two superhumans as they realised the conversation wasn’t going anywhere—both were too set in their ways. In this quiet moment, they heard the happy laughter of children coming from the yard.
Lily must have snuck out, because she’d gone to Jack and let him out of the car. Now they played tag on the grass, laughing because Jack had tripped over one of the garden beds and was now lying on his back amidst the flowers. His smile was as bright as she'd ever seen it.
Jade sighed, watching the two children with the eye of someone who would have to clean out the dirt that would inevitably be trodden into her car.
“How about,” Gadget said slowly, watching with her own strangely gentle expression. “How about we have tea, and talk? That’s all I ever really wanted, and it beats the hell out of ruining *their* day, don’t it?”
“I… I guess,” Jade acquiesced, after a moment of uncertain consideration. She lowered her outstretched hand. “But screw tea, I need a coffee.”
---
[/r/ElstabbosArchive](https://www.reddit.com/r/ElstabbosArchive/) | "Mom! Mom!" The indefatigable brute tugged at his mother's shirt. "I want to go to Jason's"
Seriously? Does he not know the toil I've been through to get to the end of the day, especially after a morning of crime fighting when I would normally relax at home while consuming TV? No, please no.
"Please Mum, please," he entreated upon seeing my tepid expression. "He's got that sick toy gun he's been boasting at school, and he invited me to join him. I'm his only friend."
I took a deep sigh. Looking into his beady eyes, I couldn't help but give in. They said it was fun to raise a child. Kid, I've got work to do tomorrow.
"Tonight?" I whispered feebly. "Dinner?"
"Ya Mom," he said, followed by a ton of gibberish. Typical eight year old behavior.
"Fine." I picked up my handbag. "But I must come with you. No alone time at night."
As I drove across the neighbourhood, my mind was swirling with troubling thoughts, as if my hero senses were picking up something unusual, a portent of terrible things to come. It's just a visit, I told myself. As long as it was all indoors, everything would be fine.
We reached the destination and rang at the bell. I tried to keep my composure despite the fatigue, but as soon as my eyes were fixed on the familiar face standing a metre away from me, my world was flipped around and flipped back up again.
"You," I muttered beneath my breath. Both of us were visibly shocked, and we certainly didn't expect to encounter each other in this very circumstance, in front of our kids, who were already talking garrulously and stepping into the living room.
We sat next to each other in the sofa, putting up a show for our oblivious children. The TV was on, though the sound was completely drowned by their screams and laughters.
We were silent for the longest time, until finally she open her mouth.
"So what's your name?" she smiled. "I don't think I've seen you picking up Andy at school."
So are we not going to talk serious business now? Are we not mentioning the Zanich massacre, or the Battle of Azara, or even just the politicians she had kidnapped... all of which were five years old now.
Or should we just chat away and forget this very occasion by tomorrow.
"Well I'm a busy woman," I said. "And don't act like you don't know my name, Helen. We keep deferential while we discuss heavy stuff, shall we?"
"To be honest, Jane." She reached to the table for a cup of tea. "I don't want to. Just don't feel like talking about 'those' stuff. Want some tea?"
I stared at her face, struggling to make sense of what I was seeing. My greatest nemesis whom I've been fighting against for years on end, until she suddenly faded into obscurity with plenty of loose threads yet to be tied, a plethora of kidnapped men yet to be found, and a myriad of stories yet to be told.
And now, she's offering me tea with a warm smile on her face?
I asked in a soft voice.
"Poisoned?"
"No," she simply answered, her smile unfaltering.
"But you invited one kid." I glowered at her, raising a finger. "One kid. Could there possibly be such a coincidence?"
"Well, Andy so happens to be a good friend of Jason's, so I guess it isn't impossible."
I paused for a second.
"So what are you proposing, Helen." I gave up the pretense. "After all the crimes you've committed, what else do you want to do if not to murder me at this very moment, in you own house, the only person who knows who your treacherous deeds. How tempting it is?"
"Well to tell you the truth, Jane," she sighed. "I don't feel that urge anymore. Now before I continue, just take the tea. My hand is shaking."
Her hand was actually shaking. It came to me as a surprise, for it was the supervillain Helen we're talking about, the lady who could lift trucks.
I took the tea.
"See, Jane." The villainous woman crossed her legs, eyes staring into the distance. "I didn't want to quit. I relish the taste of blood. I revel in the schemes I perpetuate. I like riling you up, and pester the police, and kill innocent people. I would be lying if I said that I willing stopped doing all this. It's an addiction, and addictions don't quit easily."
She took a sip of tea and looked at Jason.
"So that's why God gave me a child. I think he was saying enough is enough, and he just forced me to quit. I cannot do the things I've done at the risk of my child. I love Jason. I truly do. I know you and your officers won't believe I'm capable of love, but I actually do. I proved even myself wrong."
"So this is it." I frowned. "A kid is what took you to retirement."
"Life is about finding purpose, Jane." She nodded. "Superhero and supervillain job simply a purpose for the lost. Once there's another purpose, don't hesitate to change. You might find another side to this life of yours."
"In that case, you don't hate me now?"
"Not anymore, Jane. You are just a friend of mine now. Since our kids are friends, we might meet each other perhaps in the future, we'll not like we haven't met each other enough. See, Jane, share the same plight now. I chose to change because of it, but did you do the same, or are you still working your ass off in some other business?"
How did she know?
All these years I've been so committed to justice, I must have missed out on many other things. Andy is growing so fast. A few years time and his appearance would have changed drastically, and I wouldn't remember a single bit if I continued this way.
I must change. I need to.
"I won't forgive you completely," I said. "But I'll think about what you've said. I need some time."
"It took me months too." She patted on my shoulder. "But you'll get there."
I nodded. It all felt so surreal. Definitely not the outcome I had expected when I was driving here, but it's definitely one of the more surprising ones. Making peace with your arch nemesis of many years. Who else deserves such a ending except for the great Jane?
"Oh by the way." Helen began to giggle. "The toy I gave Jason was actually the prototype of the Doomsday Deliverer. You recognise it? "
She pointed at the disassembled pieces of metal scattered across the floor.
Oh yes. It's definitely the legendary [Doomsday Deliverer](https://toxicfoxwrites.wordpress.com) in utter shambles right there. | 2019-08-08T21:08:20 | 2019-08-08T19:56:15 | 790 | 25 |
[WP]There is no prompt. Just write a story you've always been thinking about or one you've been thinking about sharing. Anything goes. | Howard and I sat in our respective chairs, looking through thousands of white specs against the black curtains of the universe. We had been 2 of a team of 15 people working with the Hubble telescope. In reality running an operation like this takes a small town's worth of people, but as far as the actual research and data collection goes, we're it. We had aimed Hubble at a pitch black patch of space, focused on and picked up any and all light in the area. We expected nothing. We had sent a man to the moon, we knew better than to 'expect' anything.
The pure awe from what was captured after a couple weeks time of exposure was unparalelled. Not one or two distant stars. No... billions of them! Galaxies! Countless tiny little embers. It made us rethink our view of the universe and showed us that there was more to be found. Some things, though, are meant for a certain time and place. Some things, if discovered before their time, can cause wars. Level entire nations. Drive people to depravity to acquire it.
"Hmm, after reading the data from Hubble, there seems to be something quite off about the 'Deep Field'. There's an incredible amount of light coming from the upper right. Several orders of magnitude brighter than any known lightsource in our universe. It could be the farthest thing away from us in the universe, considering all the data." Howard noted. He stuck the eraser end of his pencil upward and balanced his chin on its point. He looked puzzled and also amused.
"It's probably nothing. This photo just proves we have no clue what the hell we're doing! We had no idea the universe was *this big*. Just imagine, there would be stars out there brighter than the one you're interested in." I retorted. I did indeed find it interesting, but we had much to go through. We had only catalogued 3% of the stars within the image. Let alone *researching* them. Stars lives for billions of years, it could wait. I was still on the bottom left corner.
"I just, I can't stop looking at it now. I just... is it still pointed towards the Field?" He asked, almost impatient. I guess I should just let him get on with it. Howard was a great colleague, a good man, but damn once he gets started he won't stop till it's finished.
I sighed as I said, "Yes, the feed is still on. What, you think you can make out anything through a grainy feed with your 23/40 vision?"
"I just... wait let me..." He put the feed on his computer. I started to get a very uneasy feeling as I watched him while my heart started to bounce around. *The hell was going on?*
"There it is!! What is that?! It's just a pixel, but that's it... That's got to be..." His voice trailed off. His back was facing me as he sat hunched over directly infront of the screen, inching closer and closer.
"Howard? What? What is *what*?" He was shaking now, still transfixed on the screen, entranced.
"It's uhh... I mean... Hahaha!" He burst out laughing, yet kept his face directly paralell to the screen. He seemed almost inebriated. "Heh... It's... Ah god.... it's He-...." My heart was bursting out of my chest. I felt an intense dread strike me. This wasn't him. I had never seen this in my life.
"Howard what the fuck is going on? Is this some kinda of joke?" My voice was shaking.
"I've found... Heaven... Hahaha!" His laugh twisted upwards on itself in a maniacal fit. He sat there, giggling lazily, rubbing his chest, twitching slightly, small spasms crept through his body as he stopped forming words or sentences.
"Heb... ap.. bluhhh.. hehehe, HAHAHA!" He burst out laughing again, in between grunting, writhing, and seeming as if he was trying to speak, yet was lost in ecstasy.
I got up and walked over to him cautiously, but he paid me no attention anymore. His eyes never left the screen, never blinked. He continued fidgeting around until, he suddenly stopped. He giggle a little, then sat completely still and his mouth slowly lowered. A small strand of drool snuck its way down his chin, onto his pants. I didn't dare look at the screen. I stared at him. His eyes... oh god his eyes. I will never forget them, lifelessly staring, helpless almost. He looked dead.
He was a fucking shell. I proded him, slapped him, pinched him. Nothing... I screamed his name into his ear and he sat, staring. I had called my other colleagues at this point, and they were coming as quickly as they could after I'd explained this wasn't a joke.
I finally decided to do what I'd been dreading, yet the only thing I knew would snap him out of it. I felt panic as I reached over.... and turned his computer off.
The next bit, I can't remember. When they found us, Howard was over me, beating my chest. All of my ribs had been broken. I had a major concussion, lacerations on my arms and collarbone, and was unconcious in a pool of my own blood. I had nearly died that day. They said that when they had finally restrained him, he stabbed a security gaurd in the knee with a shard of glass before slitting his own throat. They said he was speaking tongue's until the moment before he died, which the gaurd heard him utter, "Bethany" before plunging the glass into his neck...
I never knew the signifigance of the name. Howard had a wife and no kids that I knew of. He was old enough for his kids to have kids...
The 'incident' became one of the biggest coverups in history. The Deep Field image was doctored, cropping out... Heaven... and releasing the rest. The original data was destroyed and Howards computer was replaced the next morning, along with all the rest of ours.
I dedicate my work to Howard now. He was a good man...
There is one thing though. In a box, in a storage locker far from my house, I saved the original image. I never looked at it. Until today, so I'm writing this incase someone finds me. All these years it's been eating at me. I just needed to look.. I mean... I had to... I just... I don't... *HAHAHAHA!*
~~~~~~~~
Thank you for making this thread. I saw a while back, before the creation of this account, a thread titled something like: "[WP]Scientists in the 90's discovered heaven somewhere in space, but for some reason, decided not to announce it to the world."
I wanted so badly to write a short story to that prompt, but the thread was long dead before I could write up a decent story. So that is the plot I am going by. | The birth of "The Gentleman"
Albert Mancer and his wife Jane lived the high life their noble blood thrust upon them. They were quite contempt to life out their life together in peace until one day, Jane fell ill. Her body was degenerating and the beast clerics in the land had no way to cure her, only slow down her inevitable demise. After calling an all the best healers in the world only to have them fail, Albert took matter into his own hands. He designed a way to extract the essence of a person’s soul and mind from the body and set them free from physical limitation. After testing this on rats however, he found that the smoke like essence of the creature couldn’t survive indefinably without a container to keep them together. So the next step was to develop the *insert name of new race here*. A mix of an undead and a construct, they wouldn’t feel pain or other physical limitation making them practically ageless.
After much testing Albert was almost ready to complete the procedure when the news was dropped on him that Jane had stopped reacting to the healing spells keeping her stable. As he rushed to her bedside she looked right in the eye and said "Alby... I'm scared..." Dread filled his heart. As he felt a lump in his thought he whispered "Don't worry me love, I have a plan" he stood up, wiping his eyes and told the clerics to take her to his lab immediately.
The machine was all set; it had worked on animals that retained their memories on how to navigate mazes and what buttons to press to get food. He had wanted to test it out on a human *or whatever race he ends up being* before Jane was placed anywhere near the machine, however here he was, strapping his own wife, the love of his life into this essence wrenching contraption. On the other end of the device that now took up a whole room, he hooked up his wife’s temporary shell. At this early stage it was basically a rubber suit enchanted with ghost touch with a see through visor and an exoskeleton.
As the contraption whirred into life the room crackled with energy as science and magic clashed in an un-natural battle to remove the body from the equation of a living being. As Jane’s body went limp a green light shone from the console Albert was watching. "Stage 1; Essence removal complete" said a robotic voice only just loud enough to be heard over the sparks and whirs of the machine. "Don't worry Jane, let it happen." Albert whispered under his breath.
At this moment Jane’s soul and mind were separate from her body, and soon would be in a new body. Albert started to think of how he would design a proper body for Jane, with fine silk and gold to make her even a fraction as beautiful as her original body was. He quickly swiped these thought aside as he watched the console once more even though there was nothing he could do now but hope all his theories and models were correct.
Just then a blast of arcane ripped into the room as a cloaked figure tore a hole in the fabric of space between where-ever they were and Albert’s lab. The figure reached out toward the machine as spectral arms flew through the tear and plunged into Albert’s contraption. "What are you doing!?" Albert roared at the intruder "You'll ruin everything!" The cloaked figure, without even looking at him waved his other hand towards Albert and more spectral hands charged towards him, grabbing him and pressing him against the wall. "NO!" he shouted "Leave it alone you... you Savage!" That got the figures attention. "You declare me a savage do you?" boomed the figures distorted voice "You, who hath brutally tore away at the minds and souls of others, and for what? To extend the life of this feeble creature?" The spectral arms that had dived into the machine slowly retracted showing a smoky shape. "JANE!" Albert shouted "...help...me..." emanated a voice from the smoke as the spectral arms wrapped themselves around her, encapsulating her. “How dare you! She deserves a full life! Not shriveling away! I couldn't live with myself if I let her go like this!" Screamed Albert at the cloaked figure looming over him. "Don't worry, you won't have to, Savage." smirked the figure as it reached towards Albert.
Shock is an interesting thing. It desensitizes you to pain, reason and many other things. The last Albert saw of Jane she and her old body were being dragged into the tear created by the Cloaked Figure. He blacked out as he felt a strange sensation in his left arm. Then both his legs, and finally in his gut.
He barely came too when the fissure in space closed up. In front of him he saw his arm. He tried to move it, even though he couldn't feel it. It didn't move. He tried to get up, but he couldn't move his legs. He reached out with his right arm and pushed himself up. The body’s of the clerics that helped Jane stay stable while he worked on the machine were all laying there, dead. He noticed that his left arm was still lying on the ground... The realization hit him like great hammer. His arm was on the ground as it wasn't attached! He couldn’t move his legs at they were broken. He sat up and saw as his abdomen had been stabbed into. He didn't have much time. He set a delayed start on the machine and dragged his broken form towards where his wife one sat. As he tried his best to strap himself in the machine whirred into life once more. Before he knew what had happened a white flash blinded him, and then visions of pipes and cogs flashed before him until finally, he could see the wall of his lab. As he moved, pipes disconnected from his new body and valves closed. It had worked, he gasped. He rushed as fast as this temporary carapace would let him to the start of the machine. There lay his old body, battered and broken. On the floor next to him was Jane’s old locket. It had a picture of them both together in it. He closed it and went to his bench to make a plan. To start to get Jane back. | 2016-09-11T09:59:29 | 2016-09-11T09:58:34 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] People often attribute your success as a superhero to your power. However the truth is the power itself sucks, you just learnt how to use it well despite its limitations over the years, as one power stealing villain painfully learnt | Mimic collapsed to the ground, gasping, eyes watering, face drained of all color. “How… can… you… stand it…?” she gibbered through clenched teeth. I stood there looking over her. I could feel nothing for her; no sympathy, no spite, nothing.
“Why do you assume i can stand it? I endure it because there is no other option.”
I Stoically watched her as a wave of heart-breaking yearning left her clenching her chest, wracked by sobs. I noticed how her hands went up to shield her face in horror, while one of her legs spasmed from an unrelenting ecstasy. I knelt down beside her, a passionless expression on my face. “You were there when Dr. Plasma lost his bowels from terror, and you thought to yourself ‘what a useful power, i think i’ll borrow it’. Be my guest.”
She looked up at me with eyes that suddenly blazed in rage, and flecks of spittle flew from a mouth silently screaming out her unharnessed anger. Her eyes then softened and her rancorous mouth composed itself into a passionate smile filled with love and adoration. Tears steamed down the sides of her face, and she lost focus when another wave of giddy laughter burst unbidden from her lips, and i could swear i saw a fleeting panicked glance at me, before disappearing behind a mask of mild confusion, followed by a sullen melancholy daze.
I stood there as the emotions flickered past, displaying themselves in her eyes, her jerky arm movements, sudden twists of her head and body. I looked up at the buildings around me, where countless anonymous people had once fed me the most intimate secrets of their lives, moment by moment, and i felt nothing. I felt no love, no fear, nothing. She had taken it from me.
I took another look at the creature in front of me. She was flicking through emotions second to second, overwhelmed by the flood she unleashed upon herself, and i felt nothing for her; she had taken that as well.
Edit: minor edit for grammatical purposes. | Ugh, well it’s been a while since I’ve talked about this, but having the “superpower” of acid spit gets incredibly crappy after awhile. You’d think fending off bad guys would be an easy task, but nope, here I am in public running up to the bastard who just stole a ladies purse trying to get into the best possible position for me to hit him with my acidic spit. Also, take into account that despite being acidic, my spit still has the consistency of normal human spit, talk about half measures. DONT even get me started on eating, I cannot give my tastebuds any time to acknowledge whats being put upon them, instead I have to chew my food as fast as possible before the acidic spit turns it into a smoothie.
Of course, there’s always perks to having acidic spit but it’s very very limited. Can I break through most metals with it? Yes. Can I melt an entire human face to its skeleton with it? Yes. Can I kiss my own wife and kids? Absolutely not. People romanticize having any superpower, but believe me, acid spit is 3 shades away from useless. Anyways, that’s all I’ve got for now, it’s not often I get to talk about my essentially futile superpower, my success basically came entirely from my common sense. I guess you could consider that one a superpower since so many people lack it. | 2020-12-02T07:12:30 | 2020-12-02T07:06:24 | 453 | 38 |
[WP] When everyone turns 18, they receive a pet which is figurative of their personality. You're the first person to receive a dragon... | Every person in the world receives a creature at the age of 18. Since time immemorial, scientists and philosophers have been aching to find the reason for this, to figure out where the creatures come from- And how they reach us. The Guardians, as they have come to be called, are bonded in life and death to their owner. The creatures share the personality, the mannerisms, some say the very soul of their owner. Cults and pseudo-religions are almost a part of our daily lives at this point. Whenever someone turns 18, a relatively large fanfare abounds around them. My brother was a Cheetah- He is quick on his feet and witty, and uses this to avoid facing his troubles. My mother and father are both Feline as well, my mother a Lion and my father a Tigress. It was expected that I would be Feline, like the rest of my family, and they talked about it constantly- "I'm sure you'll have one of the Great Cats, my son!" "Your Guardian Cat will make us all proud!"
This world is different than most. In most worlds, people discriminate on ability, on race, on intelligence- But not here. Here, people discriminate on Guardian. Their was an hierarchy of Guardians established by idiotic philosophers in the 5th century.
First comes the Feline- natural Leader and the proudest of men.
The second Guardian is that of the Canine- Strong, but foolish in nature. A follower to the end, a warrior in their ways.
The Third is the Avian- Flight marks the sign of invention and ingenuity, unperturbed by the ways of the world.
A rank below is the Boar- A merchant at heart, Cold and unmoving swine.
Below them lay all the host of the world, lizards, animals, water-goers all- They exist solely to serve those above.
Finally are the Legends- Creatures that do not exist except in the fancy of the world. These are the names that shall be remembered in Time Immemorial.
George Washington, the British General turned self-important Emperor of America was a Griffin, Alexander the Terrible is remembered as a Sea-Serpent, Henry the Glutton King an Ogre. Nobody wanted a Legend- They always died an ugly death. So that day, my 18th birthday, I hoped for nothing but a Cat, pushing out my secret desire for change that every man holds dear to their heart. I walked out into the sun for the first time that day, as was tradition, and my Guardian was to materialize in front of me. Instead, my family heard a great roar. They froze, my mother's hand going to her waist, then remembering she left her gun at the station. My brother ran back inside, and my father watched silently. The great roar sounded once more, and in the distance we saw the impossible. We saw a Dragon. It landed in front of me and we all stood in silence for a moment. I hesitantly held me hand out in front of me. My mother gasped, realizing what I had known from the moment I heard the roar.
I am a Legend. I am a Dragon. And it was time for some change.
-
Holy hell that was horrible. I lost my motivation halfway through but I forced myself to keep writing >.< Anything I could've done better, I suppose? :/ | Today is my 18th birthday, it is a very special occasion as we have reached maturity in the eye's of Galfena and we are to receive a gift from her that will help tell the world our personality, and decide our status in the village.
It's regarded as a big event in a persons life because it helps decide who we are. Some might get dogs, cats, or mice as their gift. Some have gotten more exotic animals such as a lions, bears, wolves, and once a Platypus was given to Ruppert. The unlucky bastard, he got mocked for weeks because of it, but he's settled himself in with his role as the village fisherman so he's doing quite right.
Me? I'm not entirely sure what I'm looking at right now... The ritual was performed and done correctly. I practiced the chant over and over again, but what stands before me... I'm not quite sure what it is, it looks like the size of a dog, but it has scales and... Are those wings?
Wh-what!?
Okay, this is... this is weird... I'll just talk with the village Elder about this... Surely he will know something... Or not...
It seems like this is a first for the Elder as well, no one before me has ever received such a gift from Galfena before. There is no record of such a beast.
It's rather strange though, most beasts with scales are cold to the such, but this one... This one feels warm as if I was cradling a child in my arms...
It may as well be, it's a rather small beast but there have been some deceptive creatures in the past that grew much larger than they were summoned as, so I may want to keep an eye on it. The one thing we do know is it eats meat, it attempted to kill a few chickens we have in pens with it's whip like tail and then snapping at them with it's small mouth.
It was kinda funny if I must admit, but yeah the Elder says he does not know what job would be suited for me so he iis giving me a choice of job for the village. I was thinking of maybe being a solider, going out and fighting in heroic battles, kill enemies and live a fantasy life style.
But, I'm thinking I might become a trader and travel to other villages to sell goods, and gain a bit of gold to invest into other things that might be able to bring in some profit for our village.
Not sure yet, still not sure what this thing is either. But it's interesting to say the least. I think I'll name it Ulla. | 2014-09-28T08:54:52 | 2014-09-28T08:18:33 | 318 | 15 |
[WP] All the alien species in the intergalactic council excelled in one way or another to climb through survival of the fittest. So why are humans, a species with average physique, so hard to deal with? And what the hell is persistence hunting. | Denial of Application, Homo Sapiens Sapiens. Amended 5.2 - Sanctions, cont.
&#x200B;
Date of writ. The human colony on the fourth planet of their system has been isolated for two local cycles following hostilities against council survey team and refusal of third planet government (see note 5.2.2 on multiple terrestrial governments) to censure by consensus. All incoming material from third planet to fourth has been intercepted and seized prior to entering fourth planet orbit. Assessment is that this will be insufficient to coerce behavioral changes from the colony.
Report brief (system oversight council 59-D, second member):
*This is a waste. We were preparing to offer aid to the colony after we synthesized a large amount of their foodstuffs and supplies following the first payload interception from their homeworld as a standard pressure tactic when dealing with recalcitrants. Last report details this. Observation showed a serious depletion in body mass among the colonists for the first several centicycles (local) but no reduction in activity. Any other non-hibernating species of even half their average size would be dead by now, but they've dug in and begun harvesting discarded biomass and reprocessing it for agricultural purposes. Their caloric intake has stabilized. Exhaustion is clear in their habits, but if anything they're resting less and working more. Animal desperation coupled with clear purpose and rational - in context, if you'll excuse me - intent. FOR TWO LOCAL CYCLES. They have next to no usable resources available to them, and they're stretching it thinner than anything I've seen. As a reminder, this is the same species wallowing in wasteful excess on third planet.*
*We've been resupplied four times since establishing the blockade. We're running lean and losing. They're running on nothing and winning. I said this was a waste, but it's more than that. It's dangerous. We should leave.*
Report brief (system oversight council 59-D, second member) - amended:
*The second payload interception was unsuccessful due to payload detonation. Two died and the crew of 59-D-1 - including myself - had to be evacuated to 59-D-2. 59-D-1 has been scuttled and we are standing by for rescue or reinforcement.*
*It was a bomb.*
*It was a bomb, and I can't say with certainty whether it was meant for us or the colony.*
*We should leave.* | He collapsed on the far side of the rock, air sacs pulsating as he tried to oxygenate his system. His hind limbs were shaking, he knew he couldn't go on much further. He peered back and saw the creature, pink skin layered over with synthetic fibers it's two legged stride ate up the ground between them as it started to close the gap yet again. It hadn't changed speed since this chase started almost ten hours ago, and didn't seem especially fatigued by the chase so far. He, on the other hand, was almost out of energy.
He waited as long as he could to re-oxygenate, and then when the creature was only five body length away he heaved himself to his hooves and started a new sprint. The distance opened: 10 bodylengths; 15; 20; something in his left hind leg spasmed and he collapsed. The human was still coming. Back to his hooves. Forelimbs down, hindlimbs forward, JUMP; forelimbs down, hindlimbs forward, JUMP, Forelimbs down, hindlimbs... didn't move. His muzzle hit the dirt. He didn't look behind him, he knew it would still be there, still moving with that strange ground-eating stride.
A few seconds later he felt the creature's stride vibrating the dirt. He heaved himself forewords with his forelimbs. Made it maybe half a bodylength. Too much dead weight. The footfalls stopped. He craned his neck and looked at the pink creature - he had grown a single, long claw - gleaming in the sunlight. It moved, the claw flashing down in a single long cut, and there was darkness. | 2021-02-04T11:18:22 | 2021-02-04T10:56:14 | 89 | 43 |
[WP] The rest of the civilised galaxy has just learned that when encountering something new, the human's brains asks three subconscious questions. "Can I kill it? Can I eat it? Can I have sex with it?" | The three questions. They always ask those three questions. Not necessarily out-loud, and not always consciously, but they do. It’s ingrained in them— basic survival instincts. Deep in their core, they ask these questions, even to those of their own kind. People always say “Oh, they’re animals! All they do is slaughter and reproduce! They’re no better than viruses!”
But you know what? That’s not true. They always tell tales about what happens when the answer is a “yes”. Stories of genocide, and of butchery and of senseless lust. But that’s not all they are.
Humans are amazing, because even when all three answers are “no”, they still give a shit. They form bonds, even when the bond is of absolutely no use to them. They don’t live to answer those three questions, they live to ask them. They’re explorers. They go out into this great sea of stars, not to find something, but to find *anything*. They could find a pile of dirt and be excited as long as it’s *new*. And then they’d become best friends with the pile of dirt. It doesn’t matter to them whether they can fuck it, or eat it, or blow it all away! That’s just icing on top of the cake to them! The only question that truly matters to a human is whether or not they care about something.
For better or worse, at least they give a damn. | \[Poem\]
Within these walls, we did not know, what this universe had in tow,
Multidimensional travel, Is how the mysteries unraveled.
"May I destroy to bits?" "Earthen one, what in all tarnation?"
"Shall I boil or roast or steam or fry, all upto my imagination!"
"Perhaps, just maybe you could ravish me in all my glory,
Or if you'd like, I wi-" "SILENCE! Shut up, I implore thee!" | 2021-09-24T09:50:06 | 2021-09-24T08:19:07 | 54 | 34 |
[WP] As an immortal, you stopped celebrating your birthday centuries or millennia ago. Your young daughter wants to throw you a birthday party and your newest wife (who knows you're immortal) loves the idea. The only problem is, you have no idea how old you are or when your birthday is. | I don't remember much of old anymore. The mind has a limit. Mental space is confined to physical space. And though I am human enough to have a child, I am also human enough to forget things that are of little importance.
But one thing, a sight, a smell, can take me back. Even something as simple as a question from little Julie.
"Daddy, when's *your* birthday?
And suddenly, it comes rushing back. The bad times. The good times. A mind filled beyond its limit is not stable, and the memories come unbidden.
I remember being in the Twin Towers as they fell. Remember the screaming. I remember a woman, who was kind and told me her name was Clara, and that she had a son who was celebrating his second birthday tomorrow. She'd thrown herself from a window rather than be crushed or suffocated in the flames.
I remember the fall of the Soviet Union. The celebration. A man laughing as the Iron Curtain fell, saying it was the best birthday present.
I remember being a soldier in the second world war, stumbling on a concentration camp. A horrifically malnourished woman holding an unmoving infant, rocking and singing Happy Birthday in Polish.
I remember the Roaring 20s, the excitement, the air of risk and reward. A man, Leopold, giving his son some company stock for his eighteenth birthday. His son wasn't happy about it.
I remember wandering from plantation to plantation, seeing the slaves toil ceaselessly as a plantation owner celebrated his niece's birthday inside. I sang a few hymns with the workers and helped them with their tasks as best I could.
I remember Mozart. I had another family then, and I'd taken a son to one of Mozart's last concerts for his birthday. I remember his happy face, but not his name.
I remember Rome. Emperor Nero playing his violin, unconcerned as Rome burned. It was his birthday. The violin was a present.
I remember Persia. They celebrated birthdays more than any other event. Even the poorest ate well on their birthday. They truly knew the joy of being alive.
I remember the birthday of a Pharaoh in Egypt. Boy was he ugly. I don't even remember anything else about him, just that he was ugly.
And far, far, *far* back, I remember my mother singing. A primal, beautiful song. And she smelled of tart berries. I didn't even know that I had any memory of her left.
"Daddy? Why are you crying?"
I grabbed her and held her close. Children are precious. I remember every single one of mine. And I will remember Julie with much fondness, for what she brought back to me with so innocent a question. "Happy birthday, sweetie." | “Daddy!! I want to throw a birthday party!!” My daughter named July, yells enthusiastically, “for who? Your birthday isn’t for two months, and your moms was a few weeks ago.” She stands in a *matter of fact* stance, “you!” I smile, “I don’t remember when mine is sweetie. That’s why we haven’t celebrated mine before.” She looks down defeated, but only for a split second, “*GASP* I know!! I’ll give you one!” She nods, obviously pleased with herself. I give in, “alright, comeback in one hour, and tell me when my new birthday is.”
An hour had passed and my daughter came running in, “September 7th!” I chuckle, “thats in two days. I expected you to say today, why September 7th?” She lights up, as my new wife walks in, “thats when your presents get here! We gotta get a cake!” I look at my wife, “she is deep in this. I’ll go get you a cake” she says grabbing the car keys.
They left, I was alone. I grabbed the pistol. Put in my mouth, and shot. Something different happened. I.... I died... I start panicking, “No! NO! **NO**!! Why now! No! FUCK!!” Then it goes black. I wake up. “I’m alive! Sarah! July!” I look around, I see a half built pyramid, and the people spoke ancient Egyptian. “No.... I’m..... back.” The people bow, “Hail RA” they say at my feet. Then I remember, I am Ra the Egyptian god of the sun. After the fall of the ancient Egyptian society, I was left to wonder. “Learn from mistakes I guess” and I get ready for the long haul again.
“See you in few thousand years July.” | 2019-09-08T14:07:08 | 2019-09-08T12:29:50 | 38 | 12 |
[WP] You've accidentally drowned your genie after putting her lamp in the dishwasher. Your Celestial Court date is next Monday and no human lawyer will beleive you. | Nic was spring-cleaning his new apartment when he came across an old, weathered lamp. It looked like it hadn't been used in years; centuries even. Still, he wasn't one for sentimentality, and threw it into the dishwasher with the rest of the tableware.
He just hoped it was dishwasher-safe.
****
"Well, shit."
Nic stared at the parchment glowing in his hands. There was no mistaking it. He'd dun goofed up.
Every attempt at getting a lawyer had ended in embarrassment, and there seemed no way out of it.
He'd have to defend himself in Celestial Court.
****
"Your honour, do you really think I would have purposefully drowned my genie, instead of just using the damn thing?"
The genie judge stared down at Nic impassively. She shook her head.
"Of course you would have. The genie was a trickster, and would have turned every wish against you. This was clearly an act of pre-emptive revenge."
Nic furrowed his brow, putting his head in his hand. "How was I supposed to know it was a trickster genie, when I didn't know there was a genie in the first place? Is 'pre-emptive revenge' even a thing?"
The judge became haughty. "You would do well to show me some respect, Nic. I hold your life in my hands."
"For all I know, you're a trickster genie as well," Nic said, turning to stare at the congregation. "You probably all are. How is this even a fair trail?"
The courtroom simply stared back at him. Nic slammed his fist against the desk, letting his frustration get the better of him.
"Christ, I wish this never happened at all," Nic said.
The judge let out a deep and heavy sigh.
"*Not again,*" she replied.
*****
Nic was spring-cleaning his new apartment when he came across an old, weathered lamp. It looked like it hadn't been used in years; centuries even. Still, he wasn't one for sentimentality, and threw it into the dishwasher with the rest of the tableware.
He just hoped it was dishwasher-safe.
****
****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | *Oh no. This is bad.* There was nothing else that could go through Jaeson's mind. He pulled his '03 Azure Blue Chevy pickup into his parking spot on the back side of his apartment building. Collecting himself for a moment, he turned the key in the ignition, got out of his car and trudged up to his third-floor walk-up.
In the last two days, he had seen every lawyer in a 25 mile radius of his home in the suburbs of Cincinnati. He had been laughed out of every single office. *Celestial Court,* they'd laugh. *Yeah, right!*
Jaeson threw his keys on the coffee table and closed his apartment door. The 27 year old kept a modest 2 bedroom apartment to himself. As he turned on the TV and plopped down on his well-worn spot on the couch, he noticed something strange on the screen. It wasn't the normal "Guide" screen. **IGCS** the logo read. **InterGalactic Cable Service**.
*Since when is this a thing? How did I get this? I hope I don't get billed for this....*
As he looked at his remote to exit this strange menu in hopes he doesn't add any additional cost to his bill when he noticed the commercial that was on was in English.
"Have you fought a Faerie? Perhaps you whooped a wookiee? Need representation, let Cosmic Cory help you!" *You've got to be kidding me.* | 2017-10-10T22:17:32 | 2017-10-10T20:05:02 | 1,581 | 62 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has | I guess... My power is hard to explain. Well, not hard to define, but hard to explain the absolute vastness behind it. Everything I want, happens. Like when I was a kid, I would want an ice cream cone, and POOF! Cake batter ice cream cone, right in my hot little hand.
Let me tell you, Christmas was the most boring holiday for me as a kid.
Sure, there were times where things got a little out of hand. A bully would take a toy from me or some stupid shit. Thing is, though, I would just make another appear. No problem. Hell, A kid would hit me, and I would simply think myself better.
When you have everything, revenge just is not a topic that really matters.
Which is where the problem falls. I mean I have everything. I can get anything. I mean, where is the point? I THOUGHT world hunger out of existence. World. Fucking. Hunger. Within seconds, everyone had food--and not just any food. I thought this out. Everyone had their favorite foods, for the rest of their lives.
And just... Fuck.
people ate themselves to death. Others hoarded. Some still starved themselves. People even stole food from other people in order to control them!
I mean, what was the point? I just solved it. I solved all of it! But these people, they just don't get it. They just never did.
So here is my final thought: I want this world to die. And I want them to all know why. I want them to know that if they had just taken what I had given them, things would have been better. I want them to know that it is their fault.
Goodbye. | It wasn't so much a power as it was a curse. Tell me how you would feel to die a million deaths. To wake up the day before the dominoes fell, the machination of reality that would end your life took place, and then some small nuance in the fabric of reality is altered to spare your life for a few more days, years, an eternity. Maybe your consciousness was somehow attached to every other version of you in a theoretical multiverse. Maybe history would simply rewind. You didn't understand how it worked, and felt no more in control than a rat on a wheel. At first it was truly an anguish lamentable, but over eons of human experience you've grown cold and accustomed to your own personal hell. The very world would bend itself minutely just to keep you alive, to keep you at the precipice, to keep you number one. | 2014-12-18T16:03:19 | 2014-12-18T12:57:51 | 39 | 10 |
[WP]When you reach 18, you get put in a database which ranks you in different categories (ex. 207,145th in the world for most bug kills) You lived on a ranch and never used tech. You had to go into town after your 18th birthday. Everyone is staring at you. You finally decide to check the database.
Completely unaware of the whole stigma about edits. I’m sure all of you already know how grateful I am, but I apologize nonetheless. Sorry! | It all happened so fast. I was going into town for a shovel. Earlier that day I'd broken one digging a drain trench out behind the barn.
Now I was sitting at a table in a room with a long mirror along the wall. The kind you see in a cop movie where they are shaking down a suspect.
Oh fuck. I'm a suspect. But for what. I barely leave the farm.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way", and middle aged man in a suit was entering the room . He had a briefcase and a tablet. Closely behind him was another man. He appeared to be some high ranking military officer.
"Umm I really don't......." I was cut off.
"Don't play dumb with us James. You have to know why you're here." he was clearly annoyed with me.
Then it hit me. Dad's brother Pete spends a lot of time up in the back corner of the farm at the edge of the forest and he always smells like weed.
"That mother fucker! Listen, it was dad's brother. He's always up there. If you're looking for the weed he's the guy you want! " My voice was starting to crack, I was scared as hell.
"We don't care about the weed, we found that about an hour ago" The military man took the tablet from the suit.
"It's the global calculated rankings son." he was swiping his finger over the screen. "This showed up on the new rankings section at 8:43 this morning!"
He slid the tablet across the table. A new page was displayed on the screen. Only one entry was on the list.
\*\*New Category\*\*
\*\*05/04/2019\*\*
\*\*Most Extraterrestrial Invaders Killed Or Defeated\*\*
1. James Marshall (1 Kill)
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
The suit looked a little angry but now he mostly looked scared.
"We just want some insight into what we might be up against"
&#x200B;
The only problem was.
I had no idea.
EDIT: wow. I’m really blown away by the response to this. Thanks so much everyone.
I really had intended to leave it at that but I do have an idea where it’s going. If I like where it goes I’ll continue. | "The fucks a pokemon?"
The kid's voices was thick with the kind of yolk that had to be at least three generations inbred. She was a tall reed of a girl with long red hair tied into a ponytail, the color almost matched her farmers tan. She probably spent more time outside in one day than I would all week.
The system displayed people who were good at pokemon games? That seemed odd. Games like league and dota got clustered into one category - I myself was low on skill but high on salt - so shouldn't pokemon be with RPGs or something?
And how was this girl the best? Her mother probably called every system a Nintendo. I looked at her again. She was unattractive by any means. But - wait.
I saw the results for pokemon. There was only one name in the system. Misty Trainer. Curiosity drove me to click on her. Sure enough, it was her red hair and all and a half dozen rank ones sat next to her name.
All of the pokemon related.
All of them rank one of one.
There was Master, Trainer, Breeder, and more.
"Well, whatever. Come on Growlith let's go." Misty turned on her heel at her side was a dog-like creature with red fur and a mane. "Thing must be broken."
What the fuck?
A bing drew me back to the computer. I had a new rank. "#1 pokemon research 1/4"
Fuck being #765876 in biology that was a title I needed to keep or my name isn't Oak! | 2019-05-04T11:15:23 | 2019-05-04T11:11:17 | 6,214 | 81 |
[WP] An horror story where it gets progressively clearer that the writer is the psycho, not the other person. | &#x200B;
One night, I saw the prettiest girl at the bar. She'd been very drunk, but she was alone, and a few empty seats away from me. I thought I'd swoop in before someone else did.
"Stuart," I said, simply, when our eyes met.
"I'm sorry?"
"Sorry, I thought you asked for my name," I said.
"No," she said.
"Well, you've got it."
"Huh?"
"My name. You've got it now, anyway."
"Oh, okay."
I turned away for a second. Maybe I wasn't that good with the pick-up lines. I thought about giving her up, letting another guy swoop in and shoot his shot, but then I decided to give it another try.
"So, what's yours?" I asked, after turning back around. "Your name, I mean."
"Sarah," she said, uninterested. I imagined she was only giving me a chance because she was a drunk.
“Hey, we’re both S’S. Sarah, Stuart!" I responded.
“Cool.”
*Not cool.*
“So, what’s your sign, Sarah?”
“My sign?”
“Zodiac.”
“Oh! Gemini!”
“Hey! I’m an Aries! We’re compatible!”
Seven minutes later, and I had her. We made out in the back of the cab, on our way to my place. She was very sloppy, and had horrible breath. She was deeply drunk. Almost too drunk. I thought about sending her home, but we were already on our way to my place and I didn't want to bother the cab driver. I also didn't know where she lived, and figured she was too drunk to remember.
After about 10 minutes in the back of the cab, she suddenly pulled back, hair in her face and lipstick all smeared. “Where do you live, anyway?" *God, her breath stinks.*
“It’s a little far out.”
“Oh, okay.”
When the cab finally pulled up in front of my place, I quickly slid out and paid the driver. I tipped him extra, so he'd remember me as friendly, and nothing else. Then, I opened the door for Sarah, and she stumbled out, almost falling over. She would have fallen over if I hadn't grabbed her.
I thought that maybe it was wrong to bring her home. She was too vulnerable. Too drunk. I should've dropped her off at her home, made sure no one else got to her.
But it was already late, and we were already there, so I guided Sarah inside, where she almost immediately bent over, puking, and then collapsed onto the couch, all at once.
I covered my mouth, taking a few steps back. My god, how pathetic she looked in that moment. I realized then that I was in the wrong; she was too drunk. I shouldn't have brought her home.
She was too drunk.
Too vulnerable.
If I was going to kill her, I needed a challenge. | I woke up in the middle of the night to see a corpse floating above me. My first instinct was to scream, but my whole body was frozen, stuck to the bed. It stared at me, blood dripping down from its head and limbs, its flesh blue with frost. As it brought its mangled face closer to me and started speaking to me in some harsh foreign language, I felt my whole body cringe at that horrible high pitched nasally tone, the same tone that had constantly haunted my dreams when its owner was still alive.
This isn't real, I kept repeating to myself. He can't hurt me. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead -- The corpse opened his mouth and screeched out a loud wail. Its long bony fingers reached out for my throat as I could only watch in terror. Just before it was about to touch me, my eyes burst open and I bolted up from the bed, hysterically panting. I looked outside at the window and I could see the sun rising over the horizon. It was only a dream. I let out a long sigh of relief. I sat there in the bed for a few minutes, letting myself calm down. Really, it was only natural to have bad dreams when you're sleeping in a dead man's bed. Still, though, I decided that it was finally time to take care of a task that I had been delaying for a while.
I went down into the basement and walked towards the blood soaked refrigerator in the far corner. As I opened the door, a human corpse immediately fell out onto the floor. He stared up at me, his eyes frozen in terror. I stared back at it in rage. Just looking at him reminded me of that horrible annoying voice, constantly waking me up in the middle of the night. "All of this could have been avoided if you just hadn't checked the attic. You poor stupid fool," I whispered to him. I gazed at his mouth hatefully and took out a pair of pliers from my toolbox. I was merciful before by leaving him intact. Now, I was going to silence him permanently. | 2020-06-11T06:01:35 | 2020-06-11T05:59:03 | 111 | 69 |
[WP]: Three years ago a calamity claimed two thirds of the representatives of your gender. The dating scene has gotten weird. | Michael slumped at the bar, attempting to avoid the gaze of every woman in the room. The bartender. The waitstaff. The group of women downing pink booze-like liquids in the corner booth. What was once a safe haven for escaping the pressures of the world was now a wolf den of piercing, hungry eyes.
Three years before and everything was simple. You dated or you didn't. There wasn't a government movement to start families. There wasn't a shortage of men to satisfy the lustful drive of women. Being homosexual wasn't a crime against humanity. There was a man and a women within five feet of every step, and you could hit the gym without several shameless one-night stand offers.
That was three years ago, before the world suddenly went from six billion to two. Now any man even slightly attractive was treated as the living embodiment of Adonis. Frat boys and skinny pricks were siring children raised in the comforts of women-dominated homes. The roles were reversed in an overnight flash, leaving the men who survived the testosterone infection either confused or kings.
Michael gave a reluctant nod at the bartender for another beer. Two women bellied up on either side of him. He lowered his head, closing his eyes. He tried to give every subtle body language sign that he wasn't interested. It didn't help.
"Hey handsome. Come over to our place?" The lady on the left questioned, legs slightly parted, her hands already on his chest. The lady on the right followed suit, her hands inching towards his crotch. Michael swiped at their invading hands with a grunt of frustration.
"Fuck off." he stated, swinging back another half pint. He couldn't really *STOP* them. It had become socially accepted that women make the first move. But he didn't want the first move. He wanted the old world, where being in love or lust wasn't a public execution waiting to happen.
"Oh, don't be like that... We'll have some fun." The hands moved closer to his manhood once again. In response, he stood up, paid his tab with a $100 bill, and started to walk out. His motion caught the eyes of a very indulged bouncer, surrounded by 8's and 9's at his beck and call. The man stood up from his lust cesspool, attempting to stop Michael from leaving.
"What's wrong with you? This is paradise on earth!" The man chuckled, arms open wide in a sign of comradery. Michael lowered his head, ducking underneath the outstretched man.
With a huff of pent-up frustration, Michael retorted. "Paradise?! ***PARADISE!?*** My happiness died three years ago. Get the ***FUCK*** out of my way." In small shock, the bouncer hesitated at the sharp raise of Michael's voice and returned to the three women at his table.
Michael headed for his one-bedroom apartment and started packing his suitcase again. He'd have to leave town tonight. Again. Before someone called the police on him. | And then there were bros.
After the apocalyptic viral strain swept across the Earth, only about thirty percent of the original male population survived. For some reason, the virus protected men who had less than 10% body fat. This left most of Africa, many groups in Southeast Asia, and the entire gym-going population of the United States. In short, the only men left were muscle-bound bros who felt insecure enough before all the fatties were wiped out. Now the world was plunged into another dark age, as much of the intellect of the planet had been exterminated. Granted, there were a few ripped scientists, but they were few and far between – nowhere near enough to support the infrastructure of the country. Needless to say, the entire White House was gone within minutes, along with the Senate and all but one Congressman (Wyoming.)
It gets more interesting. The virus had the exact opposite effect on women. Individuals of the female persuasion were protected against the virus if they had over 30% body fat. This left a great deal of sizeable ladies. This disparity between the physiques of men and women created an interesting dynamic in the dating scene. Granted, some gentlemen of a certain ethnicity preferred larger women to begin with – so they were quite content with their choices. However, a lot of men had trouble adjusting to the new system. When faced with the choice, many preferred hard abs over vaginas and began to turn to each other for affection. On the other side of the equation, many of the obese women were lesbians to begin with and began to feel themselves slowly becoming attracted to men again as they found themselves with favorable odds.
After a few decades, thing began to reach a state of normalcy. The bros who had survived the plague fattened up, and the fat women slimmed down. They ended up meeting somewhere in the middle, and began to repopulate the earth. Their children would eventually re-set the infrastructure of the great nation of America, and would survive for several more centuries until the plague struck again – this time leaving only middle aged Jewish men named Saul.
EDIT 1 - The virus "protects" men who have less than 10% body fat - thanks for catching that!
| 2015-01-21T07:55:29 | 2015-01-21T06:51:46 | 54 | 25 |
[WP]The Suit is powerfull. A mech for some, body armor for others, always unique to each person who wore it. Those who wear it, hear the words "not original user, booting basic mode" As a joke, your sergeant gives you The Suit and the first thing you hear is: "User detected: Welcome back, Commander" | \[User Detected. Welcome back, Commander.\]
Phil looked at his commanding NCO with a look of wide-eyed surprise. "You hearing this shit, Sarge?"
Phil had stepped into The Suit in it's default state, a plain-looking man-shaped sculpture of unadorned metal. Today was his Pilot Ceremony, the day where the base and the surrounding town all came to celebrate the induction of a new pilot for The Suit. Phil was ready for it to shift around him, to adopt it's form to best fit him as it had done for so many other soldiers, but this was different. It had never said anything more than \[Not original user. Booting Basic Mode\]. But as it whirled and melted and sculpted to Phil's needs, new and unfamiliar phrases played across the courtyard.
\[Combat Priority: Melee. Redirecting weapon systems output to palm plasma projectors, claymore configuration. Preparing morphology matrix for light combat to Commander's favored specs.\]
"Favored specs! I don't HAVE favored specs, I've never seen this before!" Phil shouted, as the suit collapsed and shrunk around him. A whirl of dull grey metal began to urn brightly colored. Pinks and reds and whites swirled around Phil and fit to his body. The lower half of the suit shrunk to the shape of a banana hammock, and snugly form-fit itself around Phil's groin, settling into a pink-and-red striped pattern with white trim. The upper half of the suit swarmed towards Phil's chest, covering his nipples and a bit of the surrounding flesh in a similarly patterned red pink and white bikini top.
Pink and red swirls ran around his hands into fingerless gloves, and a bright red candy striped bomber jacket draped itself across his shoulders. Similarly colored thigh-high boots coalesced on his legs, and The Suit topped off the transformation with a snazzy pair of pink-lensed goggles sitting jauntily on Phil's forehead. The gloves glowed, and emitted a bright pink and white energy sword as tall as Phil itself, and he held his hands as if wielding the sword braced for attack.
\[Morphology Matrix adaption complete. Favored configuration, now active. Welcome back, Peppermint Paladin.\]
The entire audience on the courtyard looked at Phil, in his candy-striped outfit and barely-concealing new bikini, and burst into laughter. His NCO stifled a chickle. "Well, soldier, we all know The Suit configures itself to fit the Pilot but.. well, I didn't know THIS was your preference!" and he joined the crowd in bawling laughter.
The laughter was cut short, however, by a sudden growing storm in the sky overhead. Black clouds swirled angrily, and the sky was filled with a scent both sweet and acrid. Lighting struck, as a figure clad in black descended from the storm cloud. A definitvely female shape, black cables lashed wildly from her hands. Her outfit was slinky ink, hugging all her curves, with strategically placed gaps along her chest hips and thighs. She was barefoot, light on her feet as she lowered herself through the air.
The lady in sweet-smelling black laughed maniacally. "Long have I waited for this day! For my Sugar Suit to fall into the hands of one WORTHY of it's power!" The black cables danced like snakes from her hands, and she poised herself for battle. "I am Lady Licorice, rightful heir to the throne of Planet Glucosine! Now, after thousands of years, I have located the last survivor of the Royal Bloodline! I will end you, Peppermint Paladin, and then all Candy will be LICORICE FOREVER MORE!"
Lady Licorice charged towards Phil, whips of sweet-smelling black flying towards his head, and the Battle of Candy had begun. | I don't even have time to react before The Suit springs to life. Servos whir and pneumatics hiss as it reshapes itself around me. The thick armoured plates the previous user must have favoured fold in upon themselves, woven fibre substructure unraveling and reknitting itself around my body. It doesn't even need measurements, automatically stretching and sliding across my skin to fit like a glove.
My eyes widen in alarm as the sturdy closed-face helmet splits at the bottom and begins receding up my face. We're heading into a combat zone, and it hardly seems fair that the suit decided I need *less* protection. The amorphous compound settles into a rough black hemisphere covering the top of my head. Great. The most advanced piece of weapons tech in this volume of space has deigned to grant me the impregnable protection of the mighty skullcap for the battle to come.
An assessment of what The Suit is up to elsewhere does little to improve my confidence. The fearsome, angular plates of the previous suit are resolving into a loose jacket, the drab camo patterns replaced by a tired, washed out yellow. The fibre weave underneath has metamorphosed into a pale blue hooded shirt.
The pastels are actually a nice break from the dun-and-gunmetal monotony of military life, but the prospect of wearing them into an actual firefight robs the sight of most of its joy.
Finally The Suit hits me with a pleasant surprise. A pair of servo-manipulators in the yellow jacket's collar have produced a small assortment of containers and are busy at work. A pungent aroma wafts up to my nose and suddenly a wash of repressed memories tickle at the depths of my subconscious. The little manipulators finish dancing their merry jig and stuff a little brown tube in the corner of my mouth.
*This thing has a fucking cigar dispenser?*
A laser igniter flares and the tip of the tube bursts into flame. I take a hefty draw on the burning cigar, and get a mouthful of impossibly dank marijuana smoke. I cough and splutter, and the rest of my platoon laughs as the full force of everything I'd forgotten slams into my consciousness with all the care and subtlety of an angry Pamplonian bull.
"Johnson?" comes the Corporal's concerned voice as my silence stretches out past awkwardness into 'cause-for-concern' territory.
"No," I say, shitty 90s hip-hop beginning to play from a tinny loudspeaker on The Suit's exterior.
"I..." I am rising now, bringing my full height to bear as I turn to face the little bitches in my former unit.
"am the CLIT COMMANDER!"
My shout is accompanied by a thick cloud of blunt smoke. I remember my mission, my *real* mission, and turn my back on my stunned unit.
"Let's go, Fat Boy." I say to The Suit as it warms up the jump jets.
"We've got a fucking movie to ruin." | 2019-08-19T12:17:02 | 2019-08-19T11:55:05 | 92 | 20 |
[WP] When you die, you bring whatever you were carrying with you. You went to hell carrying a nuclear bomb. | Most people, when they arrive, are carrying something small. It’s typically an effigy of their family members or friends, since they can’t bring living things with them. For some, it’s their steering wheels, their guns, or pills.
You though, you caused an uproar. You appeared carrying the largest object any of us had ever seen. It was strapped to you, an unceasing weight that could never be removed. You struggled just to crawl through the entry way, dragging this massive bomb behind you.
The people of Hell aren’t cruel or unkind. Most offered to help, sympathetic with your trials. Each of us had to pay our debts before we could pass out of Hell, but your burden was truly incredible.
I couldn’t help but approach. I wasn’t sure what to say, what could I? The last thing I carried was a small, scorched teddy bear. It still stuck to my hand, very nearly fused into it.
As I drew nearer, I gathered my courage. I should have felt rage, but this ragged creature took my bluster away.
“Mr. Oppenheimer?” He looked up, tears in his eyes.
“I forgive you.” | "Hello Boys, *I'M BACK!!*"
He did not choose to die. He did not choose to have a WMD on him when he died. For all the wrongs he made in his life, however, he did right by choosing to detonate that bomb; for when those neutrons were liberated, we too were finally set free. | 2018-07-13T11:34:17 | 2018-07-13T07:42:31 | 158 | 48 |
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?" | "So.. What's the downside again?"
*The witch looks back at me, as I ask the simple question*
"Yes... You'll never find a girl you love EVER again. " *she says, she was having fun at this wasn't she?*
".. I mean, I did call you ugly, and this is what your giving me".
"oh Hohoh. You are one of those edgy types , the kind who want to be a loner. Still still your wrong. There is no way a boy like you will be without a girl. All boys find a wife, they marry. Or they die alooonee. AND YOU WILL NEVER GET A GIRLFRIEND. AND YOU WILL DIE ALONE. "
*I stare back at her* "how.. How old are you exactly?"
*She blushes and then says.* "That's none of your business, I bet you'll say 'you don't look a day over 24' well surprise I'm 300"
*I was gonna say you look like a 1000. The age checks out however. Oh you poor poor soul.*
"well, now that I am cursed. I'm gonna leave you"
*The witch laughed*
"when you want to revert, remember.. I'll be waiting for you, right here... "
*I didn't hear the rest. She's just so old, well I'll never be coming back here again.*
*Time passes, eventually I do meet someone. The witch as angry as she was, made sure that no girl would be romantically involved with me. Some dark vodoo magic I suppose.*
*Still, it hasn't bothered me one bit. As I sit at a table, I look at the door with expectations. It's the first time I've spent effort into setting up a date.*
"Sir, are you sure you want to stay? Your date has taken quite a bit of time"
*Times like this make you impatient. I wanted to shout at the guy, and would have too, if it wasn't for the door opening.*
*That's when I saw my soul mate. It wasn't a girl. It was never a girl, no. It was always a boy*
*My name is Christopher Rodriguez. And I'm gay. * | The woman stood in my doorway, looking aghast. "You have NO sugar?" She demands, having just requested a cup.
&#x200B;
I shrug. I'm on a diet. "I have some granular sugar replacement." I offer. The woman's beautiful face melts away into an old and warty visage. She points a gnarled finger at me.
&#x200B;
Fuck, a witch. I thought I lived in a better neighborhood...
&#x200B;
"You will never feel love or attraction to another person again!" The witch said, the smile on her face as nasty as her crooked teeth.
&#x200B;
I blinked. Waited. Waited some more.
&#x200B;
"So... what was the downside again?"
&#x200B;
The witch paused and looked confused. "You will never feel love or attraction to another human again?" This time it was a question.
&#x200B;
"Bitch, I was already asexual."
&#x200B;
I'm not sure what annoyed me more. Having to meet my neighbor or having to explain asexuality for the billionth time.
&#x200B;
Alternatively: "Bitch, I'm a furry." | 2019-06-25T10:46:59 | 2019-06-25T09:48:32 | 332 | 54 |
[WP] Of all the races in the galaxy, humans are not the strongest, nor the most advanced, nor the most cunning, not even the most beautiful. We do, however, make great storytellers. | "Hang on a second..." The Glorbankian interjected, he was a tall creature, about ten foot tall with bright red skin, three eyes and a mouth full of sharp fangs.
"Hm?" Ted hummed as he wiped a rag across the bar. He worked at a intergalactic bar at a small way station between Earth's sun and another solar system about three hundred lightyears away.
"Is this real?" The Glorbankian asked, his name was a bit hard to pronounce with the human tongue, considering Glorbankian's have three.
"What do you mean?" Ted asked.
"Frodo, the ring. Did this happen?"
Ted set his elbows on the bar top and smiled, "No, they are made up characters."
The three eyed creature stared at the text on his computer for a moment before setting it down on the bar, "I don't understand."
"What is there to get?"
"Why do they have feelings, why do they seem like real people."
"Well, because they were written that way."
"When they make decisions, I get frustrated at them. When they are attacked, I fear for their lives, and when they die I mourn them. Why would someone make this up?" The Glorbankian seemed distraught.
"Well, that's sort of the point." Ted explained. "If the characters didn't seem real, then the story wouldn't be very compelling. Don't you want to know what happens to them?"
The Glorbankian frowned, "Yes and no. If someone made them up, then it seems very cruel to put them in such situations. I don't see how they can succeed."
"Cruel to who?"
The Glorbankian's eyes shifted for a moment as he thought, "To them. To me? I don't know. Why make a story about unhappy things?"
Ted shrugged, "Well, often times it's unhappy times that define what is good with the world. Or what we should be wary of."
"I don't like the orcs."
"Well, you're not supposed to. They are the villain, or more realistically servants of the villain."
"But they are alive just as the Elves and the Hobbits."
"True. But they represent something real."
The Glorbankian covered his forehead with a hand, "But I thought it wasn't real."
"Right."
"But you said-"
"It represents something. In stories there are things called themes. You think war is bad, right?"
"Well, yes."
"The Orcs sort of represent that."
"But the men go to war with the orcs."
"Well, yes, it shows man's struggle with war, among other things. Perhaps I should have given you an easier book."
"No! No! I can figure it out. I can't just-just not finish it. It would be like cutting a life short!"
Ted held out his hands, "Okay, okay. Well let me know if you need anything."
The Glorbankian mumbled as he reopened the book in his computer, once again burying himself into the story. | We were warriors, reapers, prophets, and saints. We dreamed as if our imagination was our life source, and seeped inspiration from any venue. We were never the best in the grande scope but our sights never strayed so far to consider such things. We did what we humans do the best, we believed. We told our stories of grandeur and victory, we fashioned our history to tailor to our present day, and we imagined better then any one has ever dared too in this entire galaxy. We were the eternal dreamers, the ones who despite fact choose to believe what resonates inside our hearts over our collective. The true creators of propaganda, and the only followers of pure myth we were glorious, but we were weak.
Uncollected and un-unified we inevitably stayed from the banner in which brought us so far; Belief. With so many people, driving for so many things, we became muddled. We failed to find true reasonable stories and directives as we choose to lean on extremes for our crutch of aspiration. We rivaled those who excelled, and dismantled those who caused resistance. We destroyed the dreams of the few with the dreams of the many in a cannibalistic cycle of violence and extremism which only degrade the true integrity of our race as a whole. We were our only true enemies, for those who could dream of tyranny did just so.
Now after many wars and countless catastrophic events here we sit, minutes away from Zero Hour, with all the red buttons pushed. MAD had now become our end along side future. We had angered no gods, offended no greater powers, but we had angered the very dreamers in which we sought to out dream in the first place. That which was our greatest joy has only evolved to be our most devastating trait.
So I ask to what ever eyes shall lay upon this message, remember us. Not as the stories told by others, but remember us by the stories told of those who are now lost and forgotten. Make someone believe such as a human would, make them feel the wondrous joy and amazement that is laced inside every word and story we have created. Give us meaning, for other wise we will have given nothing else.
We may be gone, but just remember, we will never stop dreaming.
Nor should you.
| 2015-09-18T09:53:46 | 2015-09-18T09:41:48 | 79 | 15 |
[WP] "Invade your planet?!" The alien asks a general of Earth with confusion before bursting into laughter. "Why the heck would we do that when their are SEVEN other empty planets in this star system ripe for terraforming and colonization? We just stopped by to say Hi while we pick one of 'em out." | The General's face remained unchanged. Unflinching. Resolute.
But at the back of his mind, something about what had just been said did not sit right with him.
"So you mean to say that this 'first contact' of yours is a warning?" questioned the Admiral from the other side of the conference table.
"A warning? Of course not!", gasped the voice, something oddly sweet in the way it spoke. "Our species is very forth-coming! We merely wished to express our excitement at having yet another sentient species to engage in commerce with!"
The General glanced at the intercom, where a soft red light blipped every few seconds. On the other end of that line, the United Nations listened in on the exchange; representatives of the world's great nations had gathered together, with him bearing the responsibility of messenger to an unknown race.
"Just to clarify, you have no interest in our planet?", asked the Chief Air Marshall, looking to clarify these Newcomers' extraterrestrial intent.
"As we've said, there's SEVEN other planets in your solar system that we could choose from!"
There it was again, that gut feeling that something seemed off.
Hesitantly, the General looked to his left. The Admiral was leaning in his chair, whispering something to the Chief Air Marshall, which would make for a rather unusual scene in just about any other setting. Something told the General those whispered words were not of the peaceful variety, and he hoped it wouldn't come to that.
"And what exactly is it in this solar system that interests you?", asked one of the younger Major Generals in the room.
The question was followed by a pause.
"We require new space to expand to! The system from which we come is much smaller, and has reached capacity!" replied the voice, sickeningly sweet.
For sure this time, the General thought these were honeyed words.
"Any one of the SEVEN planets will do!"
And then it clicked.
"Why do you keep saying that?" asked the General, his voice direct and commanding.
"...We do not understand. Keep saying what?"
Though he couldn't see their faces, through decades of political squabble, the General knew the sound of a voice laced with malicious intent.
"Seven. You keep saying seven planets."
The voice came slowly this time, only further straining the impossibly sweet sounding voice.
"Your species identifies eight objects including the Earth as planetary, does it not? In accordance to our research, the one designated 'Pluto' you do not consider a planet."
The General looked down at the manifesto before him, a pile of documents that contained various tidbits of information ranging from command codes and emergency signals, to documented spaces and vectors within the solar system that might indicate the location of potential celestial objects.
And somewhere in this pile was what he was looking for.
Pulling a rather unassuming portfolio out, he opened it before stopping at one of the indexed pages.
"It is indeed common knowledge among our species that there are eight planets, with Pluto no longer being considered as the ninth", stated the General. "So it seems rather moot to continously remind us of that exact figure."
"...Yes, so as we wished to-" began the alien, before being abruptly cut off.
"I'm not finished."
The General turned a page in the file before him before continuing.
"It has been widely discussed among the great minds of our species about the possibility of a ninth planet, that exists beyond our scope of vision. We've never, of course, been able to pin-point where it would be, should it exist, but perhaps directing this question at you for proof would suffice."
The General looked up from the document, and fixated his eyes on the monitor at the front of the room that served as the central line of communication to the newcomers above.
"The only reason I can think of you consistently mentioning the other SEVEN planets we have is to hide the existence of an EIGHTH one."
Around the room individuals began to mutter. The Admiral seemed lost in thought, his eyebrows furrowed, while the Chief Air Marshall was now frantically whispering to the Space Force General. Several of the Major Generals and Lieutenant Generals were shifting in their seats, everyone sensing that wind of change.
The General cleared his throat.
"So I ask you now, is there a planet we do not know about?"
The was a long, anxious pause, as on the communication line alien words were exchanged, a guttural language that was anything but sweet, so unlike the tone from minutes ago. The noise was almost frantic, before what could only be described as a muddled sigh was heard.
"Yes."
Notably, the words were not honeyed. The room went quiet. The General looked around, and was met by the gaze of everyone else in the room.
He took a deep breath.
"Where is the ninth planet?" | The moon was unusually dark today. It was supposed to be a full moon, but something dark covered its surface.
"Alert the boys, Joe, there's something fishy on the moon, it's not shining as it should," a red-haired officer gazing into a telescope said into a receiver which hung from his belt.
The device crackled. "Roger that," said the voice from the other end.
Joe did as was asked, and alerted the boys, the space troops.
Saed, the leader of the space troops, paced about his room, mulling the whole thing over. Then, he called Bob Willock, and asked him to put the space station on alert, and prepared a squadron to explore the moon.
The squadron consisted of Saed himself, and two other ranked officers - the blue-haired Rosie, and Roy - a space explorer and a researcher. They cramped themselves into a little capsule and took off, to the moon.
On the moon's surface, they found a giant black tent. Neon-bright purple lights peeked through its flaps. The light was interrupted every once in a while by a green spark.
Out of the surface of the black tent, a goopy black figure emerged.
"What do you want?" it said in a gruff voice.
"That's what we want to know. What do you want?" Saed said.
Rosie and Roy started exploring other parts of the tent but were caught by other goopy black figures that emerged from the tent.
"Your friends, they are very curious," the alien said.
"We come here in peace. We do not intend to harm you. Unless -"
"Unless we want to invade your planet, is that right?"
"Well, do you?"
The alien's goopy black body jiggled wildly, and it let out a terrible laugh.
"Invade your planet?! Why the heck would we do that when there are SEVEN other empty planets in this star system ripe for terraforming and colonization? We just stopped by to say Hi while we pick one of 'em out."
"What? Stopped by to say hello? As if you know us."
"In a way we do, yes. Sometime back, when we took over Mars, we stopped by those incredible pyramids down there. The people then were a lot more welcoming, and the journey was not too long. But now, we need to move fast, so we only came as far as the moon."
"Wait. So, you're here for a pitstop. Is that it?"
"Yes. That is one way of saying it," the alien said and put his head to one side. "The other way, you can think of it as us in an offseason. Preparing for what's to come."
"You mean the lights?"
"Yes, the boys are working hard over there."
Saed nodded and asked the alien to release his comrades for they had nothing more to investigate and were to head right back.
"The only problem," Saed said, "is the colour of your camp. It makes the moon look weird. People are worried down there."
The alien laughed again. "Is that it? No problem. No problem, we can change it in an instant. How would you like it?"
"Can you make it transparent?"
"Transparent? No. But I can make it translucent."
"Suits us just fine."
The alien nodded, its black body bubbled and foamed, and in an instant, the whole tent became rather translucent.
Saed thanked the alien and took his comrades back to the capsule spaceship they came in.
"I managed to get some samples," Roy said.
"Me too," Rosie said. "It was very unwise of them to grab us. Now, all we've got to do is investigate their biology, and put an end to this mess."
"I got a sample too, alright. I got a sample of that damn slime's mind," Saed said and flew the spaceship back to the space station of the space troops. | 2020-12-07T07:25:46 | 2020-12-07T05:19:33 | 46 | 31 |
[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. | “Next.”
*SHITshitshitshitshitshit, FUCK! How the hell am I supposed to get out of this if they can even speed up time?!*
“Next!”
*Maybe I can try and tie it to my will? No, they’ll just torture me until I want death. Maybe some kind of paradox?*
“NEXT!”
A hand roughly grabbed me by my arm and yanked me forward. Panicking and lost in thought as I was, I stumbled and nearly fell on my face as I passed through the magic cylinder in front of me.
“Name?”
I looked up, trying to locate the source of the voice, but swirling runes and glowing, ambient energy blocked my sight while throwing the voice, making it sound as though it were all around me.. It was like I was in a universe all on my own, and God himself was bearing the full force of his judgement on me.
“Oh for the love o-NAME?!”
I jumped as the bureaucrat-God’s voice boomed in the entire column, my silence was clearly irritating him. “Oh, u-um, Erin Heckland.” The sound of rustling paper echoed all around me as I tentatively reached a hand out to touch the magic walls. Completely solid. No forcing my way out then, although that possibility had been exhausted long ago.
“Here we are, Miss Heckland. My my, that’s quite a long list. Alright, how do you want to die.”
“Well, I was planning on old age-“ the runes began glowing brighter, “BUT NOT ANYMORE!” I shout-finished. The runes dimmed. Shakily, I took a deep breath and continued, “so could I please have a minute?”
“Ugh, very well, but you get one minute exactly. If you don’t start talking by then, you will be hung.”
I blinked as an hourglass appeared in front of me, the sand rapidly draining my remaining time on Earth away. It wasn’t fair. I hadn’t hurt anyone, I had just found knowledge that the government didn’t want me to have. Some of it I didn’t even know was illegal until I got arrested! It wasn’t fair!
It wasn’t just.
It wasn’t…wait!
As the sand grains nearly finished draining, a huge grin split my face. “Oh here we go,” the drone began, “what hair-brained idea have you come up with to avoid death?”
“Not avoid it,” I confidently replied, “but stop it. If I’m going to die, I am taking this whole cursed process with me!”
The runes began to glow. | There was a small group of us, huddled in the back. We had long ago stopped carrying why we were being sentenced to death. They seemed to be processing us in batches. The men who rebelled against former Chancellor Armenta were being cleared out before us.
We had been watching in dismay as the deaths were carried out. Each one giving us new ideas, or at the least, methods to avoid. There was only so many they could process at a time and someone had pointed out that certain ones seemed more magically draining on the system.
It seemed to be proven true as they looked particularly wiped after that death. It was still mid morning, and I turned and looked at the rest of the women I was with, nodded once, took a deep breath, and then volunteered to go first. Some of those women seemed nice, none seemed to be deserving of death by any of my measures, so I decided to buy them time, if I could.
It sounds noble, but I don't have a great life. I approached the stand, and looked up at the new high Chancellor. All the judges and executioners wore odd robes and masks. There was no continuity in style. The man I was looking at was wearing robes of red and white and an elaborate dragon mask.
"I choose the following death," I said smiling, "I will die giving birth to your twin heirs. Who will be so distraught at their mother's death that they'll avenge me and destroy you."
A quiet hush went, and then a soft pop. The magic began moving through my body. I felt the most intense cramping, a shudder and stifled moan passed through the chancellor's body. After a brief moment, I began to expand rapidly. The pain, discomfort and nausea overwhelmed me. It was a horrible way to die, but I felt vindicated when the birth of the first child was announced, a girl...the second is coming. | 2021-06-24T10:30:49 | 2021-06-24T09:16:51 | 74 | 25 |
[WP] You are the last living thing on earth following a massive disaster. Down to your last meal or two, water running low, you hear a knock on your bunker door one evening. As you approach it slowly, you hear from the other side, "I have a large Meat Lover's Pizza and a 2 Liter of Sprite." | 'Three biscuits and half a bottle water'. I took a final look around the bunker before accepting I doomed myself. 'Well done you useless shit. A 2 week survival pack, gone in 3 days', I said to myself, laughing awkwardly. I dont even know why I ate it all. I wasn't hungry, it just made me feel better in some weird way.
It has been 3 days since the event, for a lack of a better word. I barely remember what actually happened, or how I ended up in old Johnsons bunker. Just some small flashes; screams waking me up in the middle of the night, fleeing away from something, the creeping silence of being all alone, and smashing the lock of Johnsons bunker with a gun I apperently found on the way.
Nevertheless here I'm. An overweight, failing college stoner as the last breathing thing in this city. Perfect specimen for this challenge. 'Yep perfect specimen, being so out of shape I needed apperently 3 days to just learn basic motoristic functions', I sighed.
'Well no time to dwill on fate's sick little joke, I need to get moving, 3 biscuits and half a bottle water isn't going to last me long.' I said to myself bringing me back from the past.
Backpack? Check. Gun? Check. Ammo? Only 6 rounds left. 'Atleast enough to shoot myself', I told myself as a way to make me feel better wasting 4 bullets on shooting practice inside the bunker, destroying the only lamp with a richochet. Courage? Check, gently squeezing the little fluffy dog on my keychain.
'Ok, Jack you can do this. No way back. You can't live on 3 biscuits and half a bottle water, in this terrible excuse of a nuclear bunker'
I looked over my shoulder to the bunker that has been my home for the last days. A stained mattress on the floor, with a small crooked table next to it, and a bucket in the corner for my business. Even from across the room, the smell of the bucket was burning inside my nostrils.
'Alright Jack, just one step at a time, we can do this', slowly moving my hand to the doorknob.
*Knock*
'What the fuck was that?'
*Knock* *Knock*
Three knocks came from the metal entrance door of the bunker, each egoing through the room. Frozen in place, fiddling with the little furry dog in my pocket, I could only stumble out a squicky 'Who'
'Papa John's. One Big meat lovers pizza, and 2L sprite'
Aw yes my favorite, I thought, while grappling the doorknob with one hand. Saved by pizza. Wait what, that doesn't make any sense, I thought in a rare gust of brilliance.
'What?'
'Papa John's'
'What?', I said again as my brain was trying to comprehend what was going on.
'Papa John's, sir. Your order?'
It can't be. Even if the city isn't completely abandoned, why would they still deliver pizzas. No, it's them, the ones that caused all this. I don't know who them is, but it's them for sure. 'yes, yes that makes sense' I mumbled to myself. Luring out survivors of their safe haven with the sweet, sweet call of their favorite pizza.
'Sir?'
I pulled myself together and as bravely as an overweight stoner in a bunker, with an unknown being on the opposite of the door can be, I answered.
'I don't know what you are, but I won't go with you without a fight. I got a gun, and Im not afraid to use it' I stuttered while holding the gun in both trembling hands.
'Are you serious. Another fucking one... That makes 6 tonight' answered the stranger aggravated.
6? 6 what? 6 survives? 6 fighters? 6 people they ripped apart, feasting on their organs after they brutally slaughtered them? My mind was racing, creating one doomsday scenario after the other.
'Sir take off your glasses'
'My glasses, I'm not wearing glass..' I started to say confused, till my hand reached my face and to my own surprise found a pair of glasses.
'How did you know I was wearing glasses. I don't even own a pair of..'
'Dude, I don't got time for this, just take them off', the stranger interrupted angry.
Hesitatingly I complied with the strangers request, slowly taking of the wierd glasses, closing my eyes in the meantime, preparing myself to what horrors I would face afterwards.
Slowly I opened up my eyes, realizing I was just standing in my student room, with a VR-headset in my right hand, and what looked like a box of spaghetti in my left hand as my gun. I opened the door, and was greeted by the angry delivery man.
'Hehe, sorry man. That felt so realistic' I shuggled awkwardly.
'Whatever man. That's 22.99'
I handed him 30 dollars, and told him to keep the change as an apology.
'Well atleast you tip nic...' he stopped abruptly, frozen in place with a look of sheer horror and disgust on his face. His eyes shot past me to the far corner of my room.
I felt something wasn't right the second I took of the VR-set. It just felt to real, it couldn't be a game. I swallowed, and slowly turned around, giving my mind enough time to prepare for whatever horror was luring in the corner of my room. With a tone underlined with disgust, the delivery man asked;
'Dude, did you take a fucking dump in your trashcan?' | “I have a large Meat Lover’s Pizza and a two liter of Sprite.” the voice echoed as usual. I didn’t bother getting up for the door. I knew he was there, this meant it was 8:19pm. Every day like clockwork the apparition of the pizza delivery boy would call through the door.
I curse under by breath to no one in particular, today of all days I wished that damn ghost actually had something for me. I’d raided the neighbours a few months ago, the general store months before that. Supplies were low but I refused to leave. This was my home. Is my home.
When the electromagnetic event had happened it had left every building untouched, but killed every single man, woman, child, dog and hamster on the planet. Even the cockroaches. Survive anything they’d said, but not this. Nothing had survived this but him.
“That’ll be 15 bucks please Sir.” *Good*, the apparition had been paid and would leave soon. Everyday I see them, ghosts of the dead living their old lives, reliving I suppose, ethereal memories playing out for my entertainment and torture.
I lay back in my recliner and try to ignore the painful rumbling in my stomach. If the pizza boy had gone it was only an hour now until she arrived. My reason for staying put, the apparition of my wife will walk down those stairs in an hour and I get to see her face, see her smile just for a moment.
“Are you okay Mister?” A child’s voice startles me so much I almost leap from the chair. A little girl is standing in my living room just staring at me, I can partially see through her, another apparition, but a new one. I hadn’t seen a new one in years, but why is this girl in my house, I don’t recognise her.
“Hello? Mister?” The apparition is looking right at me and the hairs on my arm stand up on end.
“Hello?” I speak through dried rasping vocal chords.
“Hello! Are you okay?” she asks with a smile.
“Y-yes. How can you, what are you, where did you come from?” The question flies out of my mouth in a flurry so fast I’m amazed she understands.
“I’m Penny. Pleased to meet you, are you okay? You look little sick”
“Penny. I’m... everything is fine. Tell me what do you remember?” I ask as I lower myself to my knees.
“Oh I remember everything, you look hungry, are you hungry?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” I put on my warmest smile, my mind racing with questions and confusion.
“Follow me!” she chirps enthusiastically.
“I have to stay here, this is my home and my wife, she’ll be here soon. Maybe you can talk to her for me!” Excitement from revelations and hope brighten my tone but I can’t stymie another painful rumble in my stomach.
“I promise I will see your wife but please come with me, I know where there is food!” With that she races out the door and I realise I have no choice. I run after her.
Outside is unchanged, the buildings still stand undamaged but for the elements and nature reclaiming its domain. I try to call after the girl but she never stops, we race further and further. My lungs burn and my legs ache from lack of use. We eventually reach a restaurant, the Pasta Garden, me and Lizzie had come here on our first date. The girl flew through the window and into the kitchen and I eased open the door, a thick layer of dust covering everything and the place looks nothing like I remember.
The kitchen looks frozen in time, only the dried husks of the kitchen staff remain. I carefully navigate my way around them and follow the apparition into the pantry.
“See Mister, lots of food!” she gestures at boxes of food and any hope I had instantly fades. What isn’t moldy is little more than dust.
“I… I can’t eat this Penny.” I fall to my knees dejectedly.
I stumble my way back towards the dining room with Penny walking alongside me, a childlike confusion on her face. I push the door between the kitchen and the dining room open and there she is, looking straight at me. *Lizzie*.
“Ben?!” she calls in surprise and my jaw drops. I run and grasp her in my arms without saying a word. She doesn’t fade. I hold her tightly in my arms as I look over my shoulder searchingly, tears running down my cheeks, there is no sign of Penny.
&#x200B;
\--------------------------------------------------------------
Comments, criticism and feedback are always appreciated!
Thanks for reading. | 2019-05-24T04:02:42 | 2019-05-24T03:33:55 | 2,373 | 796 |
[WP] Superpowers are granted depending on how you died in your previous life. Someone who died in a fire might shoot fire from their fingertips, etc. You were an astronaut that died during the SpaceX Mars Mission. | I’m unaffected by pressure.
That sounds like nothing, right?
Well, think about the air pressure pushing down on you right now. Think about the pressure you are exerting on the the world by standing on it. Think about the pressure at the on of the ocean that can crush most things not originating from there. Think about the vacuum of space, that has so little pressure that you’ll boil and pop.
I think about that last one a lot. After all, it’s what led to this.
Putting that aside though, other forces affect me: thermal change, granitic attraction, electromagnetics, etc. It’s just isn’t *pressing* (ha ha).
It’s nice. No bully could push me around, no villain can strike me down, no weight is too great for me to carry. Bullets don’t leave a mark.
But it has its flaws. I don’t get anything from hugs. I’ve heard tickling can be annoying, but I’ll never know. I can’t ever get a tattoo, only burns. I would never be able to give blood as the needle can’t go through my skin, and there’s no pressure difference to draw the blood.
All that there is for me to do, is talk, and think. I’m now the one that gets sent to negotiate with people. You know the kind, those that can punch through walls, can throw buildings, etc. Never the ones with laser vision, control over magnetism or electricity, nor the ones who can freeze things. Just strength. Just “punchy pushy fighter” types.
Thankfully I’ve gotten good at it. Haven’t met anyone immune to *social* pressure, so that’s nice.
Still curious what a relationship would be like. Tried dating a while back, but apparently there’s a lot that people intuit based on feel. Makes me bad at hugs, and kissing, and most things past that.
Who knows. Maybe I just need one little push. |
The first time Mrs Ana Daniels noticed anything different about Estelle was like any other day. She had been doing chores while the baby lay calmly burbling in the morning sunlight after a feed, had managed a cup of tea and to put a wash on- even though Jimmy had gone to work this week and she was alone for the first time since the new arrival. As she walked down the hall, the light had become more dim. Returning to the nursery, she was met with resistance from the other side; panic swelled in her chest - Someone was in the room! But shoving with more of her strength she found tendrils of fern curling around the door. Twigs cracked under her finger tips as she forced entry, and what she was met with took her breath away. The room was a riot of green. The oak crib was gone, Estelle cradled in the trunk of a large tree. Ferns peeked out from under the window, and dry leaves crackled under her slippers. | 2021-04-26T08:36:08 | 2021-04-26T06:56:46 | 173 | 12 |
[WP] Technological advances led to super powers. Yours is a killing touch. What you didn’t know is that every death added their lifespan to yours but you continue to age. You watched society fall. Now 1000s of years old, your withered husk is feared by the newly emerging “man”. They fear the Reaper. | When someone says Super Powers, what’s the first thing you think of? Death by high five probably isn’t it. Flying, invisibility, shapeshifting; that’s the kind of thing you want. The kind of powers that make life easier, fun or more exciting. But I got instant death. You don’t get bad powers they said. We weaned it out in the testing phase they said. But here I am, can’t even high five someone without them dying. And I know what you’re thinking -
“Man, you are really hung up about not being able to high five anymore.”
And you’d be right. Up until me, the worst it got was some dude up in Poland who grew 18 extra arms. Ever wonder how many arms is too many? Turns out anything over about 6 is an absolute chore. If he was still around I bet he’d still be complaining.
Your whole outlook on life changes when you have to learn how not to kill people. I was terrified of living at first, even tried to end it myself a few times before I realised that, ironically, dying was a lot harder now.
I went through a few stages, fear, grief, depression, insanity, sanity, depression, insanity again, sanity (but somehow even more sane than the first time around.) And that was just the first few hundred years. Turns out, when I killed someone, somehow the time they had left transfers to me. More years, more lives(?), I dunno - I know what happens, not how it happens. I tried to be good with it, you know, kill people who shouldn’t be alive - murderers, corrupt politicians etc. I made a steady living at one point as a replacement for the electric chair but it just got a bit… I don’t know, samey? Years flew by in a blur, I have a lot of gaps here and there, I just remember outgrowing everyone. My friends, my family, their kids and so on.
Societies rose and fell, my original one ended so long ago I can’t even tell you. And they always do the same thing, you know? You know how many nuclear apocalypses I’ve been through? Three. At least. Zombies were cool the first two times, now they’re just annoying. The alien invasions were always more fun, at least those are usually somewhat different. You see one or two repeats every now and then but it’s whatever.
And then there’s my face. Just bones now, isn’t it? They didn’t put that on the warning packet did they? And no matter how many times a species rises from the primordial sludge after every extinction event it’s never just walking bones. Robes always work though, super lazy I know but they all come up with it on their own anyway so why even bother.
These current dopes think it’s only year 2000 or something random like that, they always do that, mark the start of time from a god or a shooting star or something. I kid you not, there was this one civilisation that based it around their biggest tree.
I go out, mingle with the populace every now and then. They always have a name for me, a legend. They have this thing called “Television”, it’s kind of a knock off of a Blingledimble but it’s alright. They’ve done some shows about me on that, “The Grim adventures of Billy and Mandy” has been my favourite so far.
They think I’m an angel of death, a mythical figure who decides who lives and who dies. At this point they might even be right. It’s always supernatural. A Spirit. A Demon. An Angel.
A Reaper.
An incredibly bored one anyway.
Edit: Thanks for the Silver! Can’t say how happy I am people like this! | *sip* "Man this newspaper is getting crazier and crazier"
I take another sip on my freshly made coffee as I read through the newspaper
*Pfft* "wha-what!"
After reading what some of the news about me I can't stop laughing at the hilarious exaggeration of my existence
"Man they better tone that down or I'm gonna get attack by bunch of self proclaimed saint"
I lower my coffee and place it near the window. I began reminiscing about the pass 1000 years, I never thought that humanity will fall and their technology to regress to the point that steam engine is the future of this era and there's haven't even a proper aircraft. The good thing about this life is that I able see the the progress that past human made, a past I dream seeing. I laughed at the ironic situation I'm in, seeing the past by living in the future
"I HAVE COME TO CHALLENGE YOU INTO DUEL FOUL DEMON"
I was suddenly awaken from my deep thoughts by the loud voice of a man
"Man they can't really decided whether they call me a demon or a reaper"
I leisurely walk down to open the door
"IS IT LITTLE BIT EARLY FOR THIS.YOUNG.KNIGHT."
I shouted as he was very far from me, I can't tell if he is cautious or just a coward
"I AM NEITHER YOUNG OR A KNIGHT. I AM A SERVANT OF THE GODS AND HAVE COME TO BANISH YOU FROM THIS SACRED LAND"
"WHATEVER YOU SAY YOUNG DUDE"
"I COME HERE TO VANQUISH YOU. NOT TO LISTEN TO YOUR STRANGE GIBBERISH WORDS"
and this why I hate settling anywhere
"AHH!" the young dude charge at me with his sword.
I of course dodge it easily, I was about to finish this guy off by killing him but no matter how cliche it is. I stop and spared him while still in deep thoughts and reminiscing the past and remembering what that meddlesome girl said
"all creature deserve a chance and so you are"
I can't quite remember her face or the time when we meet but I at least know she was smiling when she said that
"KILL ME FOUL DEMON. I RATHER DIE THAN BE DEFILED BY YOU"
Jeez, this line I never expected to hear by a grown man. Mhm I wonder if the my coffee is still hot
"Get out of here" I said with the most neutral face I can make. The bone in my face become soft after I turn 700 years old allowing me to make expression otherwise impossible to make. Now you think about it how I can still move even though I'm all bone...
"Well at least I know I have a lot of time to figure that out"
As I was about to drink my coffee, I noticed that the sun is about to rise
"It's morning huh" *sip* | 2021-07-10T00:06:05 | 2021-07-09T21:18:39 | 219 | 23 |
[WP] Waking from cryostasis is now possible. The government develops an experiment where somebody is to be placed into a large chamber in the middle of the city and awoken every 50 years for just one week. Your name is chosen. | It had been just a month for me, and two centuries for the rest of the world.
I was woken once again with a hiss of escaping air, ready to be paraded around like a trophy, a 'marvel of modern science!' But the hall was practically empty; crowds had been thin last time they woke me, too. Now, just a few scientists waiting to examine me for any ill effects, and a familiar-looking group that I soon recognized were my descendants. A middle aged man walked forward, holding a youngster in his arms. "Remember me? Paul?" the man asked. Ah yes. My great-great grandnephew. I'd met him during the last awakening, when he was just a teenager, showing off to some girl about how he was related to me. I saw the same girl behind him, now a mother of three.
"Where is everyone?" I asked. He gave a sad smile. It was pretty obvious; I shouldn't have asked. No one cared anymore. Cryosleep was a triumph of engineering when I was first put on display; hell, even the President showed up when I was first put in the chamber! But now... it was apparently old news. Living fossils like myself weren't particularly rare anymore. The world had moved on to bigger and better things. No one really celebrated 200-year-old inventions in my time, either.
My family took me back to their home, on the 110th floor of an impossibly tall skyscraper. They ushered me into a room that they'd set aside for me, all decorated like the 21st century. "We got all the best antiques from all over the city!" said my great-great-great grandniece. I gave a wan smile and thanked her. An Xbox was connected to the panel TV, and a Jonas Brothers poster hung on the wall. *All the best antiques, here in this room*, I thought as I sat on the bed.
I spent a week with these strangers, thanking them for their hospitality. They showed me the modern world and its marvels, inventions and discoveries that I could not even comprehend. We watched videos from the great Colony Ships, nearing their distant destination systems; "This was all thanks to you," Paul told me. I certainly was a groundbreaking guinea pig.
After a week, they brought me back to the chamber. It used to be in City Hall, but it had been moved to a dumpy off-site storage center. The scientists in charge of the project greeted me as the family dropped me off. "Have a good visit?" they asked. I sighed in response and climbed up the stairs to my chamber. Would there still be anyone to greet me fifty years from now? I paused, one foot already inside.
"There's nothing left for me here," I told the scientists. "How do I get on one of those Colony Ships?" | “Time travel.” I tell the board of the selection committee. “You want me to time travel. Why?” I hadn’t known that this committee existed, or even if cryostasis technology had come this far along. Now I had been summoned to a mysterious meeting to talk about this….I wasn’t sure what to call it. Was it an honor? A privilege? A burden?
“Because we as a committee, and we believe we also speak for the world, believe in you.”
“Again, why? What have I done that’s so amazing? I’m not a great scientist or a great artist. I am not even really famous, powerful, or rich.” I think they might have made a mistake. I’m not sure they have selected the right person.
“That’s part of the appeal you understand.” Another member of the committee informs me. “Anyone who has a lot of fame or fortune will have either an agenda, or a cult following. Both of which disrupt the whole point of this time hopping adventure we have planned for you.”
“And what is the point?” I ask.
“To inspire, my good man.” A third member chimes in. “There are going to be dark times ahead, as there always are, and we need someone who people can look to in order to give themselves some purpose, some fire. We believe you are such a person.”
“How can you be sure?” I ask. “That seems like a lot of pressure and responsibility.”
“Because you are afraid of the responsibility, which tells us you aren’t power hungry. This will no doubt make you one of the most famous people in all of time, as you will affectively live to be about three thousand, even without further medical advances. You aren’t doing this for the fame. You’re doing it for the people.”
“If you’re sure.” I say.
“We are.” The committee says in unison.
“Then I’m ready whenever you are.” Eric Thomas says.
Side note: cryostasis is not in Microsoft word’s dictionary, and this makes me sad. | 2014-12-19T06:36:08 | 2014-12-19T06:30:31 | 463 | 16 |
[WP]When you die, a television appears and plays the life of the person who cares for you the most in the world in front of you. After you die, the person you bullied in high school's life plays in front of you. | I didn’t sign up to be a guardian angel, it was something thrust upon me. Hell, I can’t imagine what God must’ve been smoking to give an ex-con a job like this. Back in my hay day, I would’ve paid good money to meet His dealer.
Honestly, when I was first told by that baritone schizophrenic voice in my head that I would be Brandon’s protector, I laughed.
“This kid?” I pointed to a baby, crying in his cradle like the fate of the world depended on him annoying as many people as he could. “Fuck that, I’d rather burn.”
But if I could negotiate with God, I wouldn’t have ended up here in the first place.
So I followed this kid around, orphanage to orphanage, broken family to broken family. The Hudsons were nice but their son was a brat, the jealous type that couldn’t bear to spare a single second’s worth of mommy’s attention. I laughed when he shoved Brandon’s head in a toilet. The Harrisons were ex-military, both mom and pops, and Brandon was at the age where he liked to act out. I watched as the father brought out his old leather belt just because he had found a joint in Brandon’s backpack. Nothing about that was funny. And finally, the Morgans, your not so average saved-by-Christ household, going door-to-door with pamphlets and a teeth full of Jesus. They locked Brandon up in an empty room every day so he could pray his demons away, didn’t feed him if he acted out, and didn’t believe in modern medicine, they were nutjobs. Unfortunately, they were the ones that kept him around.
I watched over him, a silent observer. He scratched fucking tally marks into the wall to count the days since his last meal. Once he had a fever that burned even my celestial palms. I haunted the Morgans, entered their dreams, threatened them, hurt them, but all that ever did was rebound unto Brandon. Just more proof they had a demon in their house.
So, for the first time in my death, I prayed. “God you fucking piece of shit. The most I can do is give him good dreams, the most you’ll let me do is to be God damn Casper the Useless Ghost.”
Just as I expected, just as I learned, He gave no response.
And so, I did the one thing I thought impossible, I negotiated. I promised Him everything, well the only thing I had left—my soul. To my surprise, that annoying schizophrenic voice answered back. I had two hours with one body and it was some chubby senior in high school.
Of course, God couldn’t make anything easy. It was like I was the only one that cared about this kid and I'm some lowlife ex-con. But if I was all he had, then God coulda made me an insect and still would’ve saved this brat’s life.
I did the only thing I could think of, the only thing my stupid, violent, and abusive brain could churn. I beat him. Hard. I took him to a back-end alley with nobody around and swung the first punch. I kept the bruises under his shirt, left him with a breath that sounded like he was sucking through a straw and then I dumped him on his front porch.
I called the cops, said I saw him kicked out of the house. I sobbed in that annoying high-pitched pre-pubescent voice I was given as I told them the lie and I begged, harder than my prayers to God, I begged them to save Brandon’s life. Because I’m just a fucking criminal in over his head assigned to some unlucky brat that deserved so much better.
But I was all he had.
| "Hello?" My voice echoed through the emptiness of space "Nurse?" I looked around not to see a hospital, but an empty, dark, space. Floating in mid air I only saw a large screen in front of me. There was a large text all over it:
'You have died at the age of 35, welcome to the afterlife. Before you proceed any further, you will see the highlights of your life.' As soon as I read the last word another sentence appeared.
'Firstly, you will see the people who cared the most about you through your life, and people that despised you the most.'
'After that, you can ask any question about your life, and it will be answered, before you choose to proceed'
The screen went black for a few seconds, than a writing came up:
'This is the person who cared for you the most'
Suddenly I felt like the screen enveloped me and I saw everything through that person eyes. Is this my wife? My parents? I didn't recognize who I was watching... until I heard my voice.
"Hey nerd! Watch out!"
Then the person who I was watching fell to the ground...
It was Ed. How was it Ed? Why did he like me?
I thought Ed was just another nerd... I never cared for him... bullied him to get rid of my own insecurities and to impress my peers.
The place Ed was in switched, and now he was in a dark room, writing.
'Dear Diary, today Chad threw a rock at me. You can't imagine how painful it was. But I know, I know he doesn't want to harm me. I just want him to know that. Know how much I care for him. I'll keep being there for him to take his issues on. I don't want him causing any more trouble.'
My eyes were getting watery as I was watching Ed write in a dark room. Why would he do this to himself? Why would he do this to me?
The video flashed forward again to a time I punched him. Straight in the head. Broke two of his teeth. Then it flashed to him writing.
'Dear Diary. Today was the last week of school, and Chad hit me in the face. I told my mom that I feel before she took me to the hospital. It hurt, but watching him be happy was worth it. Everyone deserves to be happy. Everyone.'
"Can we skip this?!" I yelled, and the screen went back into where it first was. Words on the screen wrote
'Ask any questions you have, if you wish to proceed, please say proceed.'
I sat in silence for what felt like an hour.
Then finally I mustered, silently, but loud enough to be heard.
"Can you show me where... Ed Rosenberg is now?" | 2017-01-01T12:32:04 | 2017-01-01T11:57:01 | 522 | 315 |
[WP] A wise wizard rejects the advances of a seductive enchantress, under the belief she is out for his power. Turns out she’s just really into him, and she can’t figure out why he dislikes her. | "SKULLGO!"
The horrid amalgamation of bone and flesh assembled itself within the ritual circle and wished with all the breath it didn't have that it could sigh. Just once would be enough. He was a monster, a terrifying freak of disembodied parts and minds.
He didn't deserve what was being done to him.
"He rejected me!" Lady Harsyst stormed by the ritual circle that contained Skullgo. "Again!"
Lady Harsyst was a small thing, but that was not unusual. All things were small compared to Skullgo. He watched her from above as she pulled out silver spider hair clips and removed matching viper rings. Each item was removed with a little more vigor than the one before it.
"I really *try*, you know?"
Skullgo closed his fourteen eyes and grunted with displeasure. She was going to cry. Why did she have to summon him if she was just going to sit on the floor and cry?
"I loved him for so long and he never noticed me. He's the reason I got into experimental necromancy, you know."
Skullgo did know. She had told him forty-eight times just this week.
"I saw him on the TV, tearing through that undead army like a bull through a herd of tender ..." Lady Harsyst swayed a little in her chair, then turned back to undoing her glamour. "I told myself that if *I* had a skeleton army then he would come see me too. Then I'd put him in cage, put my hand on his chest, kiss him just so..."
A silver hairpin flew through the room and impaled a part of Skullgo's chest.
"I DID ALL THAT AND HE JUST PUNCHED ME!"
Skullgo slowly used one of his massive hands to remove the hairpin from his chest.
"Can you BELIEVE that? I go through all the work to set up the perfect date for him and he just *punches* me! I will admit, when he started pulling my hair I thought we were getting somewhere, but he was just doing that so he could punch me again!"
Skullgo pondered just how far and how fast he could throw the hairpin.
"I try to dress the way he likes! Every time I see him on TV he is with some girl or guy that is dressed just like me! He's holding them, dragging them up the steps to city hall. It just... I wanna be dragged up the steps like that... in a nice black wedding dress."
*HHhrrrrnnnghhhhrrrrrrr*
"You're right, Skullgo. I need to try something new. I've had enough of skeleton armies and giant spiders and flaming ghost skulls... I need to take a new approach. I need.... I need to make him jealous!"
There was a sound that was like a cross between a squirrel getting electrocuted on a transformer and a heavy rock hitting wet tar as Skullgo pounded his forehead against the mystical barrier of the ritual circle.
"I'll find a nice villain and start dating him! We'll go out to eat, rob a few banks, maybe pull of a kidnapping or two. You know, go to all the places *he* goes. He's bound to run into us! Then, when he sees how happy and sexy I am he'll just *have* to fall in love with me!"
*HrrrrnnngggggggggGGGG!*
"Thanks, Skullgo!" Lady Harsyst spun back around from her mirror with her hair free and her face all smiles and fangs once more. "You're such a good listener!"
| "Aha, so this apple is poisoned then, is it?" asked the cautious old wizard.
"Absolutely not!" retorted the seductive enchantress.
"Hmm, yes, it would appear you are correct." "Although, I shudder to think what wicked enchantment alights upon this 'necklace' you have brought me as well!" he exclaimed.
"Wrong again."
"Listen, you lustful sorceress! I do not have time to guess which item you have decided would be the end of me, but I can assure you I have more important matters at hand!"
"So you find me lustful, eh?" she mused.
"Surely you mu..w..well..noYES..no...damned the cauldrons! You are trying to trick me again!"
She couldn't help but bring her fingers to the bridge of her nose and slightly pinch. Something, anything to ward off the frustration she was feeling at the moment.
Was he really worth it? After countless years of attempting to sway him to her embrace she found that she was less inclined to trick and deceive him. It hadn't happened suddenly, of course, but over time she gradually shifted from trying to gain his powers and rob him of his very essence, to finding herself being amused by this strange man. Eventually, that amusement evolved into something much greater and more pure in her heart. She knew that, together, they would be an unstoppable bond of magic and sorcery! The problem was convincing him of that.
She finally responded "Look, for the last time, you beautiful thick headed oaf...I have not placed any spells or wicked chants upon anything that I offer you, I simply just want to share a moment of your time!"
"Hmmph, very well. If you feel you have nothing better to do than I suppose I can set aside my duties to assist you in some fashion."
"Assist me? Have you no awareness of this situation? Have all these years of battling our wits, one-upping each other, banding together against greater calamity, mean nothing? Do you not see that over the eons of denying each other a love to warm our heart that it is our destiny? It's a strange feeling falling in love with someone you were sure needed to be struck down and humbled. Someone who needed to be stripped of their immense power in order to ensure a better future. A woman who endured countless heartaches and vengeful acts only to become ensnared by the very heart she had previously sworn to split. Do you not see we are destined to be together?!"
"Yes, of course, my dear, but you don't understand! I married the squirrel!"
\-very first response to a WP. I apologize for any horrible grammar and/or spelling. | 2018-06-25T06:59:36 | 2018-06-25T06:46:35 | 128 | 34 |
[WP] The Villain finished his monologue. Civilians standing around waited for the Hero to begin the fight, "Well, what are waiting for? Demolish the bad guy!" The Hero responded, "Hang on, he's made a couple of good points. We should hear him out." | Flabbergasted, the crowd just gawked at Soundwave's words. The Sinister Sisters also stood, mouths agape, as they processed what had just come out of the Hero's mouth. Did he really agree with them, or was this a delay tactic to buy time for other Heroes to join him? It couldn't be the latter, as he had been able to comfortably handle all three of them up to that point, but they couldn't fathom it being the former either. A Hero agreeing with Villains? Hell would freeze over, first!
In spite of the incomprehension of his foes, Soundwave once again spoke, "I am willing to hear you out, but I cannot condone your destructive methods. Disarm the device, and we shall discuss your points peacefully!"
The first to recover was the eldest of the Sinister Sisters, Karina. "You swear on your honour as a Hero, in front of all these witnesses, that you'll actually listen?"
"Karina, what're you doing?" hissed the youngest, Francesca. "He's gotta be lying. Heroes never listen!"
"What reason does he have to lie?" retorted Karina. "He's been kicking our arses thus far. We have nothing to lose."
"I don't trust him, either, but Karina's right," interjected Darla, the middle and final Sister. "He could have ended this already. I'll trust your judgement, Karina."
Taking the control out from her jacket pocket, Karina looked again at Soundwave, "Swear here and now that if I disarm the device you will not attack, and will listen to us!"
"I swear on my honour and name as a Hero. I will stand down once the device is no longer a danger to the people," he replied, raising his hands in the air. "You made a few good points, and I'm curious as to whether you actually have thought them out and are willing to take in other points of view, or if you're just trying to justify your destructive behaviour. I will give you the chance to convince me; fail to do so, and I *will* take you down."
With that guarantee that they'd get a chance, and the subsequent threat should they squander it, Karina nodded to her Sisters and keyed in the sequence on the device's controller to deactivate it. *Maybe not all Heroes are self-righteous, stuck up pricks,* she thought, confident that she and her Sisters could convince Soundwave as long as he wasn't lying. | The crowd had been silent for what felt like an eternity. The villain had just finished his speech. He had spouted the same rhetoric he had been repeating for weeks. I was the only one who seemed to be paying any attention to what he had to say. I knew that if I could just get him to listen, he'd understand that he didn't need to resort to violence. But I had to be careful. He was unpredictable and dangerous. I had to tread lightly.
So, when the crowd began to murmur, I responded. "Hang on, he's made a couple of good points. We should hear him out." The crowd collectively gasped. I could feel their eyes on me. But I stood my ground. I had to show this man that there was a better way.
The villain nodded in agreement and began to explain his plan. For the first time, I finally saw the truth. This man wasn't a villain, he was a victim. He had been betrayed and manipulated by those in power. He was simply fighting for justice. I was filled with a newfound respect for him. I wanted to help him, and I knew I could.
As I was about to reach out to him, I heard a voice from behind me. "You should have listened to me. I warned you this would happen."
I turned to see the villain's accomplice, a sinister figure cloaked in shadows. In one hand, he held a detonator, and in the other, a remote-controlled drone was hovering above us.
The drone fired a missile, destroying the building and killing everyone inside. I had failed. I had failed to save these people, to save the villain, and to save myself. | 2022-11-30T07:17:18 | 2022-11-29T19:55:54 | 85 | 34 |
[WP] The galaxy was amused when they learned that Humans have Rules of War. They were less amused when they figured out what Humans do in war when there are no rules. | The great Warchief, the leader of the most powerful fleet in known space, waited patiently on his ship orbiting a planet. It had gone two years since his ships conquered the human settlement at the border of the empire he served.
The victory was swift. The few human military vessels was defeated in matter of minutes. Their beam weapons was no match for the empires shield technology.
The human had asked to send medical and evacuation ships to rescue the surviving crew and take the colonist home.
The great Warchief had said that he would allow it and that the ships would be protected.
He had lied. The medical and evacuation ships was left burning in space as a warning to the humans. After that, he had completely wiped out the human settlement, executed most of them and sent a few as pets to the royal court.
The humans had been upset and accused him for breaking the ”rules of war”.
He had laughed.
”Rules of war? There’s no rules of war!” he said to the human ruler, still laughing.
The Warchief had seen how the human rulers face changed. From fear, to anger to determination. It had made him somewhat uncomfortable, but with the mightiest fleet behind him he choose to ignore it.
The Warchiefs empire had taken up on itself to give newcomers to the galactic stage a slap on the wrist. Just to keep them in place. If you can’t handle a bloody noose on the galactic stage, you should scurry back to where you came from.
It had been some skirmishers. Small groups of human ships had attacked nearly every system in the empire. Nothing to difficult to handle though. Most of the ships was destroyed.
The humans had also send non weaponised pods with a a lot of electronics in them to every system. Many pods. Probably to get som intel. That had been attempts to destroy the pods, but they were to many. That was nothing that worried the great Warchief though. It was good if the humans fully understood the full might of the empire.
Now he patiently waited. He knew that the humans would try to take the colony back, fail and forced to accept that this is now part of the empire.
Suddenly his aid came running.
The Warchief was shocked to hear that they had lost contact with two of the empires most important worlds: the naval shipyard and the farming planet for the core worlds.
Impossible. It can’t be the humans! Four fleets protected each of the worlds. The puny humans would not be able to conquer them.
Two scout ships was sent. Both returned with troubled reports.
The humans had not conquered the planets. No, they had done something much worse.
They had destroyed not only the planets, but the whole systems. They had somehow made the star explode in each. Eight fleets destroyed and billions of the Empires loyal servants living on the planets was killed.
The Warchief was in disbelief. The humans had in a swift and decisive blow, crippled his fleet and food supply.
He couldn’t understand how.
The bridge contacted him.
The humans was here.
He ran to the bridge and the tactical screen was filled with red dots. So many, in fact, that the onboard computer couldn’t keep track. The human fleet was not fancy, it was nothing more than prams with engines and railguns.
Railsguns! What in the empires name! It hadn’t been used in thousands of years.
A wall of accelerated projectiles was fired at once from all of the human ships.
Followed by another wave of projectiles. And another. And another.
The great Warchief saw how the projectiles kinetic force did short work of his front guard ships shields. By the third wave the shield was gone and the projectiles ripped the ships in pieces.
The projectiles came closer to the bulk of his fleet. He knew that they wouldn’t have a chance. He ordered a retreat. The small ships would make it, but the big capitol ships was too slow and would be destroyed.
Then the computer got locked onto an extremely big asteroid closing in on the planet that now instead of humans was populated with millions of settlers from all over the empire. Somehow the humans had managed to launch an asteroid! And it would kill everything on the planet and probably make it inhabitable for centuries.
The Warchief suddenly realised. The humans had created the rules of war to keep themselves in check. To protect themselves - and strangely enough their enemy.
Without the rules of war, the humans was unstoppable savages always on the brink of self destruction. But if they manage to channel that destruction outwards…
The last thought through his mind when the projectiles smashed into his ship was: May the gods help the rest of the galaxy. | We all couldn't quite believe it when 2022 started off like this. I remember since I was no more than five when it happened. But apparently SETI had found this recording.
"Um, uh...hey, did I fall asleep on this thing? Okay, okay. Testing, testing...alright, so, good- sometime in the future humanity. We are the Tyrhor...thian, wait that can't be right, Confederation (god, their pidgin language is so barbaric!) Anyway, uh, we're live from the past I guess, to tell you that the year in your world is 2062, and that today will be the meeting to discuss opening a war against you. You see, you have aspirations to go to space, and all aspiring space-faring beings must be tested with a no holds barred war for recognition on the Galactic Council. Must be a relief after being such a good species and not killing each other off by the deadline to be recognized as basically sapient. If you best all our finest Eggsecutioner (What? That's not a word, is it?) ships, and they do not transmit their kill signal, then you will be permitted to live. If not, you will face extinction. Namaste and have a nice day!"
That was the aliens' first, and last mistake. It gave us forty years to prepare. It gave me, Rex Nova, time to train in every martial art and with every weapon known to man, and then train in the newest, state of the art spacefaring fighter jets.
All of the world's industry, military and society forgot their petty Earth-based problems and rallied around making machines, computer systems, spacecraft and even self-regenerating rainforests that would be able to withstand any kind of alien armada.
We planned.
We plotted.
We waited.
And then the day finally came. The blessed day of alien bloodletting that we now think can bring about the Human Empire.
November 17th, 2062
Tyrhorthian battlecruisers set off nuclear mines around Pluto, causing several comets to smash into their fleet.
November 20th, 2062
Neptune's lightning was remotely redirected to completely annihilate their UFO carrier. Excellent.
November 22nd, 2062
Millions of turrets on Saturn's rings fire chemical, biological, nuclear, computer virus, and other weapons on missiles banned for use against humans. But not against aliens! LOOPHOLE!
November 26th, 2062
Have you ever heard the screams of thirty ships worth of Slimes when they plummet towards a storm as large as 300 Earths? I have on Jupiter my friends, and our wild, knives-in-teeth boarding parties are having an effect on the hive control ships.
December 2nd, 2062
Substantial losses, possibly in the thousands of ships, gouged the UN Mars Defensive Perimeter today. I was not one of them, and for every precious human they take, we take 100 of those boogers. Remember our rallying cry. We are 10 billion strong!
December 24th, 2062
The asteroid belt slowed em down, and now those melted morons have five ships against the twenty thousand ships of the Home Fleet and hundreds of thousands of fighters, led by me, each nuclear tipped in case of critical failure. Even a child could win money on what happens next, and it was Christmas for everyone.
December 25th
After the devastating battle, only one escape pod was left alive, and had survived well into what these "human" monsters considered morning by being quiet. But it had to warn its people, before it was too late, and it sent out a psychic signal.
"RUN."
Then it shot itself with its own moleculizer, ensuring the humans couldn't follow up for about a hundred years.
Would that be enough time, though? | 2022-01-23T20:02:48 | 2022-01-23T19:07:20 | 32 | 24 |
[WP] Batman has had powers all along. He's just been hiding them, because he's the goddamn Batman. Also because he knows the longer he hides them, the more it will mess with Superman when he reveals them. | "you cannot win this, Bruce" Clark called to his opponent, as he struggled to stand "I am too strong; you've had your time to prepare. You've discovered my identity and you've discovered my weakness, but I know all of yours too. I'll admit. You were a worthy adversary, but without powers of your own, you are limited by technology and human strength. I don't want to kill you Bruce, give up and I will ensure you live a long life"
"I'd rather die than live under your reign" Batman growled as he staggered towards superman, exhausted and stripped of all his tools.
"so be it. I'm sorry it had to come to this." battered and bruised, Clark stepped up to his opponent and readied himself for what would surely be a finishing blow.
"I wish I didn't have to do this, Bruce, but you know what must be done. You've seen the future. This is the only way. Goodbye, my friend"
And with that, superman poured the last of his energy into one final, devastating punch.
When suddenly, instead of the crushing of skull he was expecting, there was a solid slap. As he looked up, he saw that the batman had caught his punch.
"what? How? No human could withstand that punch. No kryptonian could survive that. What are you, Bruce?"
With a look of pure boredom on his face, batman pulled off his mask
"why do you keep calling me Bruce anyway? My name is Saitama"
"w- what? W-who are you? Bruce Wayne is the batman... Isn't he?" superman stammered
"Bruce Wayne? Never heard of him." Saitama stated. Then nonchalantly punched superman into a fine red mist.
He fell to his knees, the red mist that was superman, drifting slowly to the ground
"DAMN IT" he yelled
"only half power again"
__________________________________
I kind of changed my idea half way through.
I'm new to writing so give me constructive criticism | Gotham City, about eleven PM. Mild Seven looked up and down the alley. Nice and quiet. Perfect place to plan a heist.
Little did he know that the city's hero was perched on a balcony across the street, waiting. He wasn't using actual night vision goggles, no. He could see his target without those silly gadgets. He just wanted to look cool.
Mild Seven busted out the two pistols. Perfect time for Batman's performance. Batman flew down from the rooftop, landing gracefully in front of Seven.
"Shit! Company!" Mild Seven muttered. He shipped out his pistols and unloaded two magazines straight into Batman's chest.
Batman smiled. "Yeah, it's gonna take way more than that to kill me." He tackled Mild Seven and tied him up for the police to find, with helpful flashing lights.
Then, he noticed something on the ground nearby. A travel guide for... Metropolis? Wasn't that the place where Superman was?
He picked it up, looked at it, and stuffed it in his pocket. Maybe someday, he would go to Metropolis. It would be really fun to fuck with that Superman guy.
*****
It's late and I'm tired.
Might do a part two if there's interest. | 2016-03-22T22:38:02 | 2016-03-22T22:06:53 | 32 | 11 |
[WP] The war had been going on for over 100 years now. Not that you'd ever seen it, living in a bunker your entire life. But one day, a news war reporter suddenly says, "I can't do this anymore. Everything is fine! They're lying! Th-" And the signal cut out. | **THE CENTENNIAL REPORT**
The quarantines were for the protection of the people.
At least, that’s what the elders were told. A century had elapsed, but the lockdowns never lifted. And somewhere in all that time, a new normal was created. A normal where people lived entire lives without leaving their homes. Homes that, after a few decades passed, were moved underground, and reinforced with a blast shield to protect the population from the war above.
Work was done remotely; social activities were held online. Sustenance and frivolities were delivered to your doorstep by mechs, provided one had enough credits. The elders said it was strange at first, but as *their* elders died off and new generations were born, the questions stopped. Acceptance was survival and the system grinded forward.
It started with a plague. A plague that was later identified as a bioweapon released on the world to thin the population. One world power blamed another. Soon, all the news cycles were propaganda machines, shouting matches aimed at provoking an admission of culpability so the world could play judge and juror. No one talked first. And so, the world went to war.
I’d watched the archives. The first round of bombs decimated half the planet. The other half bunkered down to ride out the nuclear winter. Whoever was originally responsible if their goal was population reduction, well then, they’d succeeded. Eight billion people reduced to a little over four million, worldwide. And still, there weren’t enough resources.
I’d grown up on stories Gramps told about the decades after the Flash. How humanity saw the error of their ways and banded together as one to survive as a species. I guess national borders stopped mattering as much when you and everyone you loved was hunkered down trying to find the next meal without surface radiation killing you. What had started as a war of nations had morphed into a war of nature. Earth’s surface had become the enemy.
By my parents’ generation, a new equilibrium had been established. Life underground was filled with the same mundanities and illusive opportunities as the old world. Except the rulers were no longer politicians but the merchant moguls. The ones that had kept supplies, and even comfort oddities, flowing. Life returned to normal. You were born, you grew up, you worked, you possibly mated and started the cycle over before you died.
For the kids I attended virtual school with, it was enough. For me, it was never enough. I’d been studying, training, and preparing my whole life to go above ground. To walk the wastes and see for myself the destruction of the world. The ravages left by the thousands of nukes launched against neighbors.
And then, I got my chance. I’d entered a journalism contest. I wasn’t stupid, I understood that journalism and facts had died long before the great wars. But it remained the only profession that seemingly allowed for any curiosity, while also permitting access to places most of our population would only ever see in holos.
So, I colored my submission report as heavily as possible. I infused just enough hope to be a breath of fresh air, but I framed it with all the facts that we lived by. And I won.
Well, I qualified as an alternate which is almost the same thing.
Now, I stood with the other finalist at the shaft. The heavily guarded elevator that was the sole surface point in our quadrant. She and I were granted access to cover the centennial surface exploration. This would determine if the land was habitable once more.
We were dressed in hazmat suits. The metal cage shook as it was slowly cranked upwards. Our camera man and security detail fidgeted as we ascended.
When the elevator stopped and the head of security motioned for two of his men to wedge open the doors, I held my breath. I’d dreamt of this moment my whole life. The surface.
Blinding light shone through the crack that grew as the muscles pushed the heavy doors open.
We stepped out hesitantly. Finding our feet beneath us as our eyes adjusted to the light. The other finalist, a thin woman with soft features, gasped at what was in front of us.
Lush greenery. Sunlight filtering through the trees. Birds singing freely as they flitted from branch to branch. The surface looked untouched by the ravages of a nuclear holocaust. Wild, healthy, and beautiful. Eden had taken over earth once more. It was the chance for a new beginning, and it was stunning.
A nudge between my shoulder blades directed my attention to our right. There, not five feet from the entrance was a spot of scorched earth. Set dressed to look like a war zone. The balloon of hope and awe that had swelled in my heart burst. The merchant moguls would never allow the truth to be told. If people knew that the earth was healed, that resources and space were there for the taking, they’d revolt. The order that had been established would be overthrown.
I surreptitiously clocked the security guards with us. We’d been told they were there to protect us from any mutated creatures that might attack while we were in the wild. But their eyes never left the three of us. Two reporters and a camera man. We were the danger.
The woman took her position and the camera man’s angle was approved before they started rolling. This broadcast was to be the jewel in the centennial celebrations. Proof that humanity had made the right choice burrowing in the tunnels. It was meant to be an affirmation of all that had been sacrificed to survive.
But as my wandering eyes took in the sights of nature in all her glory, as I heard the call of the animals that moved unchecked by humans, and breathed the clean, crisp air deeply through the suit's respirator, I couldn’t help but wonder.
The report was underway, and the woman did an admirable job selling the wastes as an unhabitable nightmare, but I’d zoned out. Her regurgitation of the approved lies didn’t hold my interest. The great vastness of untouched natural beauty held my full attention. Which is why I almost missed it –
*“I can’t do this anymore. Everything is fine! They’re lying! They—”*
Two things happened at once. The red light on the cameraman’s equipment went dark and a bullet found a new home in the pretty reporter’s head.
The patch of "wastes" was covered in her blood as her body dropped. The birds in nearby trees, startled by the echoing gunshot, flew off as one. Nature around us, stilled. Made aware of a new threat, it was as if all the woods waited to see what this new apex predator would do.
The head of security looked to me, an unspoken question.
I nodded and crouched down, filling my gloved hands with crimson covered dirt. I slowly smeared it across my helmet, my suit. The guards scrutinized me the whole time. Then I took my place in front of the camera, framed to only show the deceased whistleblower’s leg in the bottom left corner. My eyes flicked to her body before finding the camera lens.
I never imagined the surface would be so untouched. So perfect. But the assignment had been simple. Reaffirm the decision to move below ground. To survive in darkness and tunnels. To drone on as cogs in a machine.
As the red light blinked on, I cleared my throat. “We apologize for the interruption. My colleague wandered out of the safe zone and tripped a buried mine from the last wars. Our condolences go out to her family...”
The head of security nodded his approval and the tension in the shoulders around me eased. I continued the approved facts news report. Selling their lies with ease. But the whole time, I soaked in the smells, the sounds, the sights of this healed earth. It had been a hundred years since people had lived above ground. It might be a hundred more before we reclaimed the surface.
But as I spread the news the population was authorized to hear, I vowed to be among those who brought the truth to light. I was just going to be smarter about it than she had been. You can't lead a revolution if you're dead.
\~\~\~
Thank you for reading! For more scribblings, wander over to r/WanderingAnonymous | \[Short Story\] "Vicarious" \[2500 words\] \[10-12 minute read\] NSFW: Violence-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Weapons haven’t yet become as lethal as they could become, but still the planet has lost almost a billion people in the last 100 years or so though the real figure may be twice or even thrice that. It used to be common knowledge that The Trigger was set off exactly 100 years ago on the 21st June when The Chief Admiral of The Global Front was assassinated in his own house. A deadly explosion, some poisonous gas and a couple of bullets were all that took to spark the entire country on war.
Fire, when set to dry timber grows with a pace that is almost unstoppable. Twice is the rate of growth of murder and violence. In just a matter of an year, armies of all the countries had been deployed and then blood was drawn from the bodies. The soil was bloodied with war flesh and blood ran in the rivers. The flesh was cut, the bullets tore through the skull and brain and countless young men and women lost their life to such an extent that it became nearly impossible to even maintain a record.
The Judgement War, or is it infamously called, has been around for about a 100 years now. Not all years are year of deadly strife and in some years, there has been latent peace, or a pause over fighting. For example, in the 40th year of The Judgement Period, One of The Left Countries had launched such a cluster of chemical bombs on the civilians of the Right that half the population had collapsed on that day itself. Plague, mass body burning, and economical breakdown completely tore the system down and the fighting had to cease for about a period of 7-9 years simply because there were no opponents. Events like these kept happening throughout the judgement period and thus it was common for the civilians and even the soldiers to not know what they were fighting for.
If you ask them what was it that drove them to the field of horrors, they’d say: ‘It’s either kill or be killed. If we don’t defend the lines with our bodies, then they will murder our kids and parents. It’s either fight or perish.’
\*\*\*
All this jargon did not matter one single bit to young Dave though. He was quite content in the bunker camps that they had been living in for the past 3 years. It was true that 3 years ago, the opponents from The Global Front had dropped Flame Bombs in their trenches and had burned his younger brother to death, but those gruesome memories were already fading from his young mind, and he was quite satisfied here, for his grandfather had finally given an important duty to him.
‘Each morning, you are to go from the bunkers to The Kitchen Camp and carry this really important document to The Chief Chef. Ian he is called, The County Cook, and to him you will give The Letter. It contains details about the food items that are required for the day at the bunkers. Do this job properly and I will think about letting you in The Gun Training Camp.’
Delighted, Dave had started carrying this duty of his each day of the week. He would wade through the rat filled trenches, cross the bunkers, and even crawl through the mud to get to the Kitchen Camp in as less a time as possible. Each day his GrandFather would congratulate him on his service and at night together they would go to The Bunker Camps and sit with other soldiers who would often write poetry and talk about their lives that they had managed to taste during the years of the pause.
\*\*\*
There used to be this One-Eyed-Bob who, unlike others hadn’t lost his eyes in the war but had actually found them useless when a cat had scratched his face terribly. He would often wear a patch and try to make the others laugh and many a times he would recite silly poetry just to amuse the others.
But mattered not how many poems they wrote or how many jokes they made, the air of despair would always come back to hang above their heads. Even Dave, before sleeping, would try really hard to suppress the thoughts of his Father, Mother, and brothers, who had all lost their life during different-different attacks, but in the end, grief would consume him after all and he would often pass out from the pain of that aching sadness.
Yet, each day he awoke with enthusiasm to deliver the letters and never did he forget his duties.
\*\*\*
On the morning of Friday, right from the beginning he knew that something was wrong. The sounds of bullets echoed from all around the trenches and there were earth shattering and loud sounds of bomb bursting open the earth. Soldiers were marching in short files, going form one end of the trench to the other in hurried pace and many Captains were seen quickly moving around the camps, garbed in their red flagged coats and uniform hats.
Dave dashed quickly towards The Kitchen but was often kicked aside by the marching soldiers.
‘Squadron J-7 to The Silver Post, Squadron B-3 march quickly to The River Camp!’ a young bulky looking man with red face tore open his throat as he repeated the commands urging the soldiers to take their spots. When his eyes fell on Dave, he doubled back and retreating from his pedestal he said:
‘This is no place for a kid. Don’t you know that The Global Front is assaulting? There are reports of planned air-strikes. Quick Kid. Return to your Bunker Camp. Leave this place with the rest.’
\*\*\*
When he reached The Bunker, he found that is was already empty and many soldiers were standing around it, trembling and shivering, and some of them were smoking cigarettes while some had beads and rosaries out as they were muttering words uncontrollably. He tried to go inside, but was stopped by a soldier.
‘It’s my Grand-Pa! I’ve got to go with him.’
‘Calm down kid. It’s alright. I know you. It’s alright it.’ He stopped speaking and took out a cigarette and puffed it hungrily as he continued, ‘I know your Grand Pops. He met me before leaving. Said, he’d meet you at The Kitchen Camp. So there’s nothing to be worried about really. Just go to him quickly and get the fuck out of here. We’ll try to hold the lines. Move now. Go. Quickly. Leave this shithole!’ He threw the unfinished bud back to the ground and pushed Dave who started running and took all his shortcuts to reach to The Camp as quickly as possible.
\*\*\*
It was a wheezing sound that came from far off but bombed right around his ear. The ground blasted up and the wooden trench gates were smashed to bits as the first group of cluster grenades boomed the place up. The Machine Guns were fired and bullets tore through the necks. Some young men were murdered on the field as they ran from the on slaught while others lost their limbs and eyes. The blood bath started early in the afternoon and carried on till late evening.
During this time, Dave kept on crawling towards The Kitchen, and though there were troops who tried to take him with them as they evacuated the rest of the civilians, he would often break free from their grasp and move towards The Kitchen Camp.
\[Continued in Comment\] | 2021-10-05T08:42:41 | 2021-10-05T07:48:09 | 155 | 19 |
[WP] Everyone with the same name shares knowledge. If one Bob gets a degree in electrical engineering, then all Bob's have this knowledge readily available. Soon, everyone starts naming their kids similar names until factions form. Your parents rebelled and named you something original. | It seemed like every person I knew was part of a greater picture. The Bobs were all electrical engineers. The Susans were oncologists. Alexs were doctors. Ferns were all horticulturists. Everyone had a place, everyone was in a faction. When a couple was pregnant, they thought long and hard about what they wanted their child to be. Interestingly enough, names no longer were gender specific. You'd meet a woman just as likely to be named Ralph (plumber) as Jane (zookeeper). Or a man named Elizabeth (historians) or Scott (police officer). Everyone was defined by their name, which was code for what job they did.
Eventually this made trouble, as too many parents were picking "prestigious names" for doctors or lawyers, and not enough were picking "lesser ones" for waiters and electricians. You know, the trades, or service people. Until the government stepped in. Now each parent had a choice, they could pick a name based on what was needed at the time. Some claimed the system wasn't fair, that the people with more money could grease some palms to get better names for their kids, but the system worked. Even more so when they made all jobs more equal.
It turns out, we need garbage workers as much as we need doctors, and suddenly the job held a lot more respect.
Names were final, and people who went against the government faced heavy fines and penalties. Eventually people stopped trying. What good was it having a child for it to be taken from you and raised in another country that had a shortage of that name? Never able to see them again? It was soon unheard of. People grumbled, but the world was a smooth operating place. It was hard to argue with results.
But it was still a clique. Rachels (fashion designers) hung out with other Rachels, and they typically married Rosses (the paleontologists). Everyone had a place. Everyone fit into a plan.
Except me. It was lonely being different.
My parents - Pam (actuary) and Tom (flight attendant) - were different. They didn't want that for me. They said they wanted me to choose my own destiny. So they picked something unique. Or what they thought was unique, but was actually a lost name. I don't think they accounted for the name retroactively giving me knowledge.
Everyone was so focused on naming their children practical names, ones that have a solid future, they forgot the fun ones. The arts. My parents named me Ludwig. I was born in secret, they had me at home. Once I was named there was nothing the government could do to change it, your future becomes set. At first my parents were afraid they would be punished, but my unusual name seemed to confuse the authorities. They decided they would see how I played out, rather than openly make an example. They were used to parents secretly birthing doctors, not strange names they had never heard of. They covered up my birth, claiming my parents were given permission.
I remember when I first went to school, already the separation had begun. Janets (vets) played with other Janets, or maybe Georgias (horse trainers). Randals (teachers) played with other Randals, or maybe Mariannes (principals). So long as their fields were related, they stuck together.
It was lonely growing up. No one knew how music fit into anything. There were still other Musicans around, but no one on the scale I was. I was held at arms length, almost reverently. An anomaly. In a world of doctors, lawyers, architects, and construction workers, I'm one of the only composers. My concerts are always packed. And I see it from my stage, how my music bridges the gap. For the short time that I play, people come together. The cliques dissolve, and they all feel the same thing. It's a heady gift.
But it was a lonely existence. I saw the world differently. I didn't have a collective to draw on. My knowledge was limited to the last Ludwig, who had lived centuries ago, and what I learned myself. But then one day I met someone else like me. Another anomaly. Artemisia. And for the first time I feel excitement. She's like me, unusual. And her paintings speak to something inside, that makes my music more. But something has me worried. People are taking notice of us, not in a good way. I'm worried for what that could mean for our future...
~~~
Hoped you liked it!! Also, I had to make a Friends reference. Just had to. | “Alexes, today we will take what’s ours!” The handsome young Alex stands atop a large pyramid of wooden crates, his voice booming across the entire marketplace. “Today, we will storm the Presidential Palace!”
*“Bring him down! Bring him down!”* The crowd around me chant at the top of their voices.
“We will not be abused anymore. We will not be slaves anymore. Today, we will take back our city for all of Alexkind!”
The crowd goes wild. I creep along the crowded marketplace, making myself as small as possible. A tide of Alexes surround me, holding various weapons the scavenged from their homes – axes, pitchforks, frying pans. I turn into a dark alley and hide.
“Lexi, over here.”
Lexi, my younger sister, scrambles into the narrow alley with me. I pull her into my arms, panting deeply. We’ve been on the run for the past two days.
“Can we rest here, brother?”
“Yes, my dear,” I say, gently patting her head. Her big, blue eyes are bloodshot. “We can stay here. But not for long, okay?”
There’s some trash beneath a poster of President Alexander. I rummage through the trash. We find a half-eaten chicken drumstick and ravenously gobble it down. It’s the best meal We’ve had in days.
The alley is plastered with colorful posters of all shapes and sizes, but they all have the same words. “Unite”, it says, “Unite for the freedom of Alexkind!” From every poster, the regal eyes of President Alexander stares into me. Silent. Judging. Like he knows my secret.
Like he knows I’m not an Alex.
It’s been two years since they killed Mom and Dad. The laws are clear as crystal – fail to name your child Alex and you die. Simple as that. I never understood why they would put themselves in such danger. They said in all of human history, there has only been two others with my name. It was a forbidden name. But whoever he or she is, they certainly haven't been of any help.
Since Mom and Dad were killed, Alexis and I have been on the run. We would definitely be killed too if President Alexander's people found us. Maybe hung on the bridge, like so many others. But I’ll never let any harm come to Lexi. They’ll take her away over my dead body.
Some of the posters have been heavily defaced. “Tyrant!” was scrawled across several posters in what appears to be blood. *“A rising tide of dissent,”* uncle Al would say with a sigh. *“These violent delights have violent ends.”*
For decades, President Alexander has used the collective intelligences of a thousand Alexes to invent new, sadistic weapons to keep the population under control. Most recently, his scientists invented a gun that uses the quantum entanglement between the minds of Alexes to inflict agonising pain on another. It's the worst form of torture possible.
The Alexes have had enough. We’re a society on the brink of civil war.
All of a sudden, it becomes deathly quiet. I look out into the marketplace. Everyone has stopped moving. Lexi freezes. Her eyes go blank. Then, with perfect coordination, they turn to face the Presidential Palace and start marching.
Lexi marches away from me. She chants, in unison with the rest of the Alexes, “All hail King Alexander! All hail King Alexander!”
I grab Lexi as she walks away from me, but her arm slips through my fingers. “No!” I shout as she blends into the march of Alexes. What's happening? Why are they behaving this way?
Then it hits me – President Alexander has taken over the mind of all the Alexes, including my sister. *Mom and Dad knew this would happen,* it dawns on me. *President Alexander has used the quantum entanglement between the brains of Alexes to take over their minds.* And only a non-Alex can stop him.
And I must save Lexi.
| 2017-04-07T09:27:45 | 2017-04-07T08:38:41 | 2,425 | 198 |
[WP] Your parents are a superhero and a supervillain. You inherited their superpowers and they both have always tried to pull you to their side, while you never wanted anything to do with anything super-related and so you picked the most mundane and normal job you could think of. | I scroll aimlessly on my phone as I eat chips and hear my parents get ready for their daily dealings.
Mom in another room: "BABE!! Have you seen my utility belt?! I'm fighting that giant Hydra, and I want to use that new grenade you made me to send it to the Nether Realm!"
Dad from his basement laboratory: "That depends, have you seen my shrink ray?! I'mma make the Eiffel Tower into a paperweight to piss off Captain Le Douche Bag."
Mom came into the living room with Dad's shrink ray. Hair long, shimmering white, and floating with her every step. She seemed to emit her own light. Eyes an ice blue standing at 6 feet. Ms. Awesome, she was called. Powers beyond comprehension, only surpassed by me.
Mom: "Captain France? UGH! I HATE that guy! He smells funny, he MERCILESSLY hits on EVERY female superhero, and... AND... HE'S NOT EVEN FRENCH! I've SEEN his DNA, he's fucking American, I mean Jamestown, Virginia, American. You know he touched my butt, once?! Good thing I had that dampener, or I'd have sent him to the Nether Realm MYSELF!"
My Dad walked in a second later with her utility belt. If there were ever a contest called "The EXACT opposites in Marriage", THIS marriage would win every award. My Dad couldn't be taller than 4'6". brown hair, brown eyes. Average looking Joe. He had one power, the ability of the mind. You may think it only covers one thing, but it's a blanket term. If it had to do with your head, he could tap into it. He could take over your body, read your mind, and control your thoughts. God forbid, you fall asleep. You're a playground to him. It wasn't limited to this realm. He had a multiverse to learn from. They called him "The Boogey Man". He's the smartest man to have ever lived. Well, until I came along.
God damned, did they love each other, though. When he met her, she was crying in the rain that she created. Her side and his were just in an epic battle. No one won, but many died. He saw her, and I mean, how can't you, she emits light when she doesn't try to hide it. He just sat next to her.
"Sorry for the rain." She said. Holding herself closer to her knees. Fully expecting him to try to kill her.
"No worries," he said. He sat next to her, and opened a large umbrella to shelter them both. They just sat there, and talked. My Father made a dampener for her powers, so she's acceptable to the other superheroes, Brown hair, brown eyes, isn't more than a human wrecking ball. Married in secret, now here I am. Testing apps. All on my phone.
They met in the living room where I scrolled along. They switched weapons, then looked at each other, laughed, and switched back.
Dad: "He deserves to be in the Nether Realm."
Mom: "Can you imagine how cute a Hydra would be as a pet?"
Me, not looking up: "This actually ends well, good for you, both."
They both look at me, disapprovingly. "Thanks, Mr. Spoiler Alert."
Me, looking up from my phone with a puzzled look. "Not MY fault you're SO gross." Eats a chip.
Both in unison "It's because you're always on that phone!"
They look at each other, lovingly.
Gross. | When will you come home Ash?
That question has been burned into my mind for five years.
My father is The Atom Bomb. My mother is The Virus.
Master of what makes up everything in the universe and master of super intelligence. I'm still unsure how she thought that was a cool name. I guess smart people will always be bland. That includes me and I'm all for it.
I don't want to be a super villain. I don't want to be a superhero. I want to be ME.
My powers allow me to think faster than a supercomputer and create and alter whatever I want by adding a set number of protons or blah blah to the atoms around me. I love that one especially. When a tv show doesn't show something cool like for example Star treks heated debate of a Borg-Dominion war. I make little star ships and remove the gravity in my studio home. Borg drones' litter my carpet and Jem'hadar charge from the kitchen. All the while I watch this while multitasking character development, adding music speakers, and eating popcorn.
I've even made pet Shadows before. Those were the main antagonist from Babylon 5, but nobody knows that show exists much to my chagrin.
The government has demanded on several occasions for me to assist them in one problem or another. I simply tell them that I've paid my taxes, am not entitled to help as I'm not in the military nor am I a federal agent. This is the reason I live in Russia now.
I was branded a traitor to the United States of America. I could've stopped 9/11.
My life was threatened, my friends turned against me. Noone listened to my point of view.
If I had stopped that from happening, I would've been entitled to do it again! Commit myself to a life of unease, sleepless nights, and watching my back every day of every year. I would've been miserable! So, I made a choice. I took my stand and I stood by and watched people die all for an interview to work at a Walmart.
I scheduled an appointment with the Russian president himself. I was one of the most powerful men on Earth after all why wouldn't he listen to me?
He asked me why I let it happen. I replied with the honest to God truth.
I did it for me.
five years later his eyes... staring into my own. Deciding if I was worth it or not.
Five years later here I am. I run the opening shift at a karaoke bar.
My parents ask me the same question every New Year's Eve.
When will you come home Ash?
Never. I'm happy. | 2022-10-08T16:55:30 | 2022-10-08T15:08:23 | 35 | 26 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | I was an avid dog lover. Jesse was my loyal dog and the cutest husky around the block. My girlfriend loved her also, so when I proposed to her, whether having the dog in the house or outside wasn't even a question. 1 year goes by and my wife has beared me a healthy young girl, Monica. After we left the hospital and went home, Jesse welcomed us home with a wagging tail and big smile. We spent the day taking care of Monica as Jesse walked around us, looking at our daughter. The afternoon comes by, so I start preparing dinner for my wife and I. Suddenly I hear my wife scream for me to come over, so I turned off the stove, ripping my apron off as I ran over there. When I approached my wife, she was hugging Monica, so I wasn't able to see clearly. After I was able to calm her down, she showed me Monica. Monica was covered in red with mumps and hives. I grabbed my keys and booked it to my car, the wife no too far behind. We drove the hospital, and ran towards urgent care. The nurses saw what happened and immediately gave Monica a shot to suppress the allergy. Then they brought her away to take measurements and diagnostics. 30 mins later, a nurse comes out and tells us to follow her. We go into the room, and see our daughter, rid of mumps or hives. The doctor tells us that she had a severe allergic reaction to something in the house. We list all the things that Monica came in contact with. But the doctor stopped is when we got to Jesse. The doctor then says that our daughter is probably allergic to our dog, and we must get rid of her. We acknowledge the doctors words and bring our daughter home. When we got home, I ushered Jesse outside and played with her so my wife could slip upstairs with the baby. It was around midnight when we decided what we must do. My wife picked up her sleepy body and sat outside on the porch swing with her as I dug the hole. We put her in the hole, and I brought out my gun and shot her twice in the head. It had to happen, we had no other choice. As I'm covering the hole, my wife was silently crying, tears falling onto the pillow she was holding. When I finished, my wife stifled her tears and goes back into the house and starts walking upstairs. I wash my hands off, and go inside and close the door. I make my way upstairs and see that my wife is already in bed, asleep. I change and walk over to the side of my room where my little girl was sleeping. I brush her head and whisper "Goodnight Jesse" | I drive a school bus. You must understand, this job was never my first choice. I wasn't sitting in elementary school thinking "I wanna be a bus driver!" while everyone else chose astronauts, football players, singers, or dinosaurs. But sometimes life pushes you in a certain direction and you wind up exactly where you ought to be.
I love kids. No, not in that way, you sicko. I was in an accident years ago that left me with remarkably functional, yet entirely mutilated... well, suffice to say, I can't have kids of my own. And when you can't have something, you just want it more.
The story of how I discovered this career path is a long and boring one, but I'm glad things lined up the way they did. I love seeing each kid's smile as they eagerly run down their driveway, backpack slapping back and forth behind them, before gingerly taking steps up the stairs. Being the kindhearted person I am, I have a bowl of snacks that most kids take from before sitting down. It's an assortment of chocolate cookies, salamis, and cheeses (sweet and savory, can't cater to just one palate), and while there are a few children who think they taste funny, I'm not claiming to be anywhere close to a decent chef. But I do try.
Then there are the kids who trudge along a bit more slowly. No smile. Children with souls that have been beaten out of them. Sunken eyes, neutral expression, wondering why their parents ever bothered. Why they even exist. It pains me to my very core.
And I simply can't let it slide.
Fortunately, disposing their parents' bodies is a breeze; you know how kids will eat anything with chocolate or cheese!
*************
*For more horror shorts, check out /r/Zchxz!* | 2016-05-19T14:52:21 | 2016-05-19T13:55:45 | 36 | 21 |
[FF] I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things. (250 words + GOLD)
Please include this phrase: "I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things."
*Reddit gold to the submission that most strongly hits me in the feels.*
Ready? Set? GO!
-----
EDIT: I couldn't decide, so I awarded gold to *two* of our writers. /u/voxanimus and /u/PoliticalMilkman both win a month of reddit gold! | A deep rending that reverberates across this vast, wretched sky. It fills my ears. It fills my bones. A sound so immense I can almost touch it. The very fabric of this universe is tearing under its own weight, and this is its swan song. Yet I can think of but one thing—it's strange that the breakings of the world aren't any louder.
I used to hate you. I hated how easily you climbed the walls I'd built around myself. I hated how easily you could make me *feel*—how the softest brush of your fingers was enough to send me careening. I hated you because it was the only thing I knew how to do.
I don't really know when that hate gave way to love. Was it a slow weathering? Or did you and your too-bright smile purify me in a single fleeting brilliance?
Maybe neither happened. Maybe the hate's gone, but nothing's come to take its place. It's okay. I'd rather be empty, now, than full of darkness.
I'm glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things. Though the requiem of creation itself resounds around us, all I can hear are the velveteen murmurings of your heart. Echoing softly in this empty breast. | My own skin was growing thin, but I was still a young man, younger than the man who was propped up before me. His breaths came in shallow, the hollow rattle of an old chest. One hand clutched feebly the blanket to keep him warm. I traced the veins up his arm with my eyes, I could remember him years before, a much bigger man than he had wasted away to.
His lips, thin and dry, cracked into a smile. His words were soft, but unlike the rest of him, his mind was still young and strong. "You never were much help in the hard moments" he said. "Always too quiet, never knowing what to do with your hands. Not a good liar. You know things won't be alright, but you can't spare those who don't. Your face shows it." He smiled wider, his blue eyes complementing his smile. "I'm glad you came."
I looked away from his eyes, back to his thin, almost transparent hand. "Dad, you knew I'd be here." I couldn't meet his gaze, not with the tears in my own eyes. "I wish I wasn't." I sounded like the 13 year old kid who still cried to his parents at night, whose father would embrace him and tell him how much he loved him. I was still a child in front of this old man.
He continued to smile, "I love you, and I am glad you are here with. Here at the end of all things." His hand reached up with a fragility reserved for the dead and dying. He grasped my hand and pulled me downward.
I kissed his cheek and croaked out, "I love you, too." With my other hand I flipped the switch. His breathing became quiet, his grip loosened. My tears stained his pillow, ran down my father's cheeks. "I love you, too." | 2013-03-24T21:55:43 | 2013-03-24T12:06:10 | 90 | 11 |
[WP] Finishes with "May I start over?" | "I don't think you understand, this is not a joke!"
"No? Because it sounds like a fucking joke! You're talking like a schizophrenic psycho or something!"
"Aaargh will you just listen for once in your fucking life! God damn no wonder Julia broke up with you."
"..What the fuck are you talking about!? Julia and I are moving in together in a week! Are you actually going insane?"
"Ah shit I thought it was April already. I didn't mean to tell you that but this is what I'm talking about! I know exactly what going to happen in the next two months. You and Julia are going to move in together, she's going to dump you, and you're going to do something very very ba..... oh my God.. Maybe that's why this is happening..."
"What? What the fuck are you talking about?! Why would Julia break up with me?? What am I going to do? You're really freaking me out here man!"
"I need to stop you... Maybe if I stop you, I won't go back again..."
"Dude, are you actually serious with this shit? What am I going to d.... what are you doing with that gun... why the FUCK are holding a gun!!!! Cut this shit out I swear to god this isn't funny!!"
"I'm sorry.. I have to do it.. I've done this 6 times now and I'm starting to get really sick of February."
"Dude stop! Listen I'll do whatever you want okay? I promise I won't do whatever I'm going to do, I swear! Ohh god please don't do this, please god don't do this, I swear I'll do whatever you say! Just please stop!"
"There's no other way.. I tried to talk you out of it before, I just never realized how important it is. I don't want to do this to you but I need to try something. I've lived the first half of this year 6 times already and it's getting pretty frustrating. Don't worry though, if this is what I need to do, everything will be fine. If it's not, then at the end of May, I start over." | Before I began, I seated myself on the soft armchair, leaned back and shoved a fistful of popcorn into my mouth, gave the soda a sip to make sure it's still fresh. And it was. With the light of the television screen before me in the living room, I pressed the button of the remote. Frankly saying, I did not know what movie this was going to be.
"Booring," I complained minutes later, scratched my balls and lifted up my short so my bulging gut could get some air. There were some good videos I stored in the drawer on which the television stood... just thinking about them got me hard. I was about to go switch the discs, but then I realized I couldn't be bothered. So I watched the damn movie instead.
It was a story of some kid. He was young, fair haired, grew up on an Oklahoma farm and thought of nothing else but to be a farmer. He had good grades, alright. Handsome too, but way before that age.
I frowned as I saw him skip an opportunity after opportunity. "What gives, kid?" I said to the screen. "You're a clever lad, use your brain!"
I saw the lad grow into a lean man. I saw him throw away college, I saw him throw away this chance and another. His dad passed away one day, and his mother and father. So he got married to some woman. Had a pair of kids. In the shadow of his years he gouged himself on fast food, grew fat with a huge gut.
After he died of a heart attack, the credits rolled up. "Wow," I muttered and finished the popcorn. "What a wasted life."
"Isn't it?" I felt a hand on my shoulder.
I glanced up and saw a man who looked a bit like me. He was older, leaner, taller. He was my father. I sat frozen, gaping at him, in shock. "But you're dead, father," I gasped.
He looked at me with his plain eyes and slowly... ever so slowly, it dawned on me. I thought back to the movie. "Damn it!" I banged my fist on the table next to my popcorn. There were tears in my eyes, of disappointment and regret. I grabbed him by the collar. He didn't resist. "What is this bullshit?!"
The room dissolved around us. Like a mirage, it shifted into a field of golden wheat. The rage went out of me... we sat in the field, looking in the sky for hours, and I wished I could try life again. Maybe I could go to college after all. "Is there a way... some way... any way..."
"Hmm?" Father looked at me.
"May I start over?"
"No." | 2013-09-01T08:23:34 | 2013-09-01T06:59:25 | 43 | 25 |
[WP] A person asks a villain why they are evil. The villain's response is very underwhelming. | My wrists hurt; tied to a chair for several hours, I needed some water, but nobody was paying attention to me.
Armed police at the doorway, remains of the door scattered around, negotiator in the room, criminal poised, hostage (me) waiting with baited breath.
They had been talking for a few minutes. I wasn't really listening, but then my ears perked up.
"Why?" asked the negotiator.
"The counselor told me to do something new, expand my horizons, escape my familiar behavior patterns. I thought for a bit, and then realized I never imagined I could be *bad*. It sounded like a challenge. I thought I'd give it a try."
"But why this? Why not, say, climb a mountain?" asked the negotiator.
The criminal looked puzzled for a moment. "Oh. Oh, yeah. I didn't think of that. Yeah, that would be fun.". | "And so, we come to the part of the event where you beg for your life, and I give you some reason why I couldn't possibly spare your miserable excuse for an existence. Go on, then- ask me something".
As he laughed, I struggled against the ropes that held me tight, the rough hemp biting into my flesh, rubbing my skin raw, and I realised with horror that I would never live long enough for the wound to heal.
"Why?", I whispered, my voice shaking with fear, with terror, with the knowledge that I wouldn't live past the hour. "Why do this? To me? To *anyone*?"
He laughed again, and shivers ran down my spine.
"Why? *Why*? Why do I terrorise innocent people? Why do I kidnap, murder, and torture? Why do I victimise pretty young things like yourself? Why, why, why? All you people do is ask **why**? You should be asking *how*. How. Where. When. What. Not *why*. But fine, fine", he sighed melodramatically and gestured vaguely. "why do I do it?"
I nodded as best as I could, swallowing softly, watching as he stepped closer, as he moved out of the half-shadows into the light. I could see him for who he really was now, and the revelation chilled me to my core. I had no time to reflect, though, as he spoke again, his voice soft, gentle- and filled with madness.
"Because they cancelled Firefly." | 2013-12-29T10:53:57 | 2013-12-29T10:41:41 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] The greatest hero the world has ever known, a man/woman of unparalleled strength, speed, wit and skill dies to the laughingstock of the super-villain world in the most pathetic way possible. Write how he/she dies to this hilariously incompetent villain. | Twas a hero, savior of the land,
Call his name he'll give you a hand,
Nemesis hated his fame and glory,
Sadly, this is the end of the story,
He was a hero, brave and strong,
Ask him for advice, he's never wrong,
He made people happy, laugh, and smile,
Fought crime until the very last mile,
He was my idol, a man of power,
Stood up straight, tall like a tower,
Invincible no villain could stop ,
But one day his body will drop,
He was just minding himself on a cold winter day,
But in the wrong place he decided to stay,
After he put his gear in his trunk,
A drive hit him, the drive was drunk.
RIP dad.
| He crossed and uncrossed his legs. He twiddled his thumbs like it was his job.
"I just... Can't support your...decision," he said. To think of the fearless hero anything but confident in the mild-mannered life of his alter ego? Ridiculous.
He averted his eyes from her curious, almost intrusive gaze. The slight woman with jet black hair, severely cut, sat across from him in her iron-walled home. "Darling," she says, "You know I only have your best interest in mind. This is your safety we're talking about."
He rolls his eyes and plants both feet on the floor, suddenly remembering who he thinks he is. "It's MY final choice, you know. This shouldn't even be a discussion. I'm employing you to do what I ask. You have an order to fill, and I expect it to be done."
The woman sits up straighter and stares at her arrogant commissioner. "Fine," she slides through her teeth after a taught silence. "But know this, Dynaguy- this is the last order you'll ever place."
And so it was, for Dynaguy had chosen to add a cape to his super suit, and a snag on a still-active missile had ended his brief post-evil-dooer-defeat celebration, as well as his life.
EDIT: T'was Thunderhead who was fallen by the missile. Dynaguy was still dumb though. | 2014-06-27T23:58:08 | 2014-06-27T23:44:44 | 473 | 196 |
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