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] There's a law when you divorce, the children from the undone marriage get killed
So only children from lasting marriages remain. | I tried to cry quietly, but he still woke up.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"We need to break up," I said through my tears. I couldn't have picked a worse time to say it, but I couldn't have picked a better time either, so fuck it. Fuck everything.
I'd never get to fuck him again. Knowing that was one of the thousand things that hurt.
"Why?" he asked.
The tremble in his voice was one of the other thousand things that hurt.
I scrubbed the tears from my face with the back of my hand. Crying would only make things worse. "Because I want to have children."
"So do I," he said. There were tears in his eyes, now. "I want them with you someday. I thought you knew that."
"I do," I said. "I know. And I want children with you. I want it so much that I can't think of any reason why it'd be a bad idea."
He rubbed the side of his face, and that was one of a thousand things I'd miss about him. "So stay with me. Marry me. We'll make it work, I know we will."
"So do I," I said. "And that's the whole problem. No one ever knows things like that so blindly unless they're in love, and love is dangerous."
Boogerface Charlie in kindergarten, who just didn't show up one day, or ever again. Ella and Emma from third grade, whom I'd never learned to tell apart. Derek who pushed me around all through sophomore year, and I'd been halfway through writing a thank-you note to his parents for divorcing until I crumpled up the paper and threw it away. The quiet boy from my Economics 101 class, who never talked to anyone.
Melissa from the coffee shop, who wouldn't let me kiss her.
*If we kiss, we'll have a few more dates. If we have a few more dates, we'll fall in love. I can't do that to you.*
When I asked her why, she said that her parents weren't in love anymore. She was right. She was dead less than a year later.
You could maybe build a partnership with someone, over time. You could maybe find something stable, that would last all your life. You could always fall out of love.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I have to marry for the children. I can't marry for love." | "Hey Joe, baby, come down stairs."
Oh shit, I know exactly what's going to happen. They've been arguing for months now. It's so obvious that they're not in love anymore. Normally, in other countries, I could survive. Being the only child between this odd couple. I could just be claimed by either one of them, and the other would pay child support. But no, where I live, I have to die. I've been trying as hard as I can to get them to love each other. But when you got a fat, disgusting excuse for a human being marrying a perfect 10/10 woman, it never works out; not even in those stupid sitcoms. There is no way I can escape either. Since there are cameras strewn about the house, (thanks government) the police can come and take me outside and shoot me dead. I just hate this, why couldn't have I been born with a perfect family.
"Look Joe, you know we love you. But you know this situation is never going to work out." My mother said.
"Yeah, we just can't figure it out. We hate each other more and more every day. I just don't think we can tolerate two more years of each other." My father said.
"Can I just say, for killing your only son. You two sound remarkably calm and collected. So what? You spend 16 years raising a son, and just two years before he can go out in the world, you say we give up. Excuse my language, but fuck you guys. All you do is fucking sit there and drink beer, then you have the nerve to throw a shoe at me when I get a B on my report card. Then we got miss "I'm a perfect mother" over here with her god awful cooking, bitchy attitude, and fucking dudes every night right in front of her husband's face. I always hated you two." I said.
My mom swallowed loudly, and said "Fine, if you got a death wish. I'll call them." She picked up the phone and asked for the separation police. She stood there for a few minutes in complete silence. I was waiting for the cops to come and plaster my brains all over the front lawn. She put the phone down however. She walked over and tears were streaming down her face. I looked over to my father to see him crying as well. My mom whispered to me "They're coming in a few. I-I love you so so much, but you know what has to be done."
A few minutes passed and the police came barging in. As I walked out, my parents were crying their eyes out. I was crying as well. This was it, I had no life for 16 years and I have no chance for one now. They told me to turn around and get on my knees. I saw my parents looking through the window. All I did was give them a nod. During my nod I heard a shot and there was parts of my brain against the window. I fell over and I saw the light. The last thing I saw was my mom running out and giving me a kiss like she did every night for 16 years. | 2014-06-15T04:16:52 | 2014-06-15T03:42:59 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] Ants, in every hive in on the planet, suddenly come under your complete and precise control. While amusing at first, you come to realize you have the world's largest and most unconquerable military force at your command. | As a child, I found plenty of enjoyment in the soothing crunch of their exoskeletal frames, and seeing their miniscule figures scurry across the caustic earth as they searched, desperately searched, for a place to hide from my metal boot. After the Cataclysm a large portion of life above the ground perished immediately, yet those beings lucky enough to have adapted to live underground (and humans, though with difficulty, joined these ranks eventually) had survived and flourished in this changed world.
But the world wasn't the only thing that changed.
Oh, I was ecstatic. Suddenly, instead of having to hunt down those comical little insects, I could just command them to come to me, and order them to sacrifice their very lives for my own twisted enjoyment! I had never felt so powerful, so commanding, and so blessed.
I was once told by my late father that power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. I found that saying outdated and cryptic in its meaning, but it was only a couple cycles ago when I realized what he meant.
I once used my power for the furthering of my personal enjoyment.
Now I have the power to further my agenda for the world.
Of course the world's leaders came together in unity, and pledged to create a new civilization underneath the caustic soils! So valiant their duty was to the people they governed, that they succeeded without a single instance of revolt or civil unrest!
But it simply would not do. Humanity's numbers dwelled safely in the hundreds of millions after the Cataclysm was over; my army is comprised of trillions of obedient soldiers, with countless more along the way.
I have been told that if my absolute power has corrupted me absolutely, then I have fallen to an immoral state of being, where I no longer deserve to live amongst the ranks of humans who gave everything to save their own species.
But humanity deserves to die. I am no longer human. I am the hive mind, the nexus, the commander in chief of the most powerful army to exist!
And will humanity fall before my metal boot, like my legions once did those many years ago?
Absolutely. | The accident took everything away from me. My wife, my kids, my arms and legs. I can’t feed myself. I even shit in a bowl. There’s nothing left worth living for. Except my dreams, maybe. The nurse looks on watching yet another stupid soap and I scream, locked inside my skull, the sound reverberating in a dark echo through the folds of my brain. I can hear the heart monitors beeping increasing as the exertion to do something, anything, takes it’s toll on my shattered body.
The nurse looks over and presses a button and sweet darkness takes me.
My dreams after the accident were scattered. It made me dizzy even thinking about them, but as time went on I began to make sense of them. Slowly I realized I was looking at myself laying in the bed, barely human with all the wires and tubes hooked up to me. Looking at myself from everywhere in the room at once. The view expanded further as time went on and soon I could see the entire world around me. Every leaf of every tree, every tiny blade of grass in the whole world was within my perception.
At first I used this, dream state, to fulfill my fantasies. I checked out women’s locker rooms, snuck into banks and other simple things. Just dreams I told myself, but there was a sense of reality in them that I couldn't shake.
This time I focused back on myself and forced the view to congregate in my room. The view grew clearer and for once I could make out the numbers on the monitors. I willed my perception towards the nurse, mad at her for her ableness, for being able to continue to live a normal life. I woke when she started screaming and saw her out of the corner of my eye completely covered it a writhing black mass. Her screams tapered off slowly and I was alone, with the cursed soaps. I willed the T.V off and the black mass crawled up and covered it. I heard buzzing as it shorted out and was silenced.
This can’t be real I thought to myself. This is just another dream. I willed the mass to myself and it responded. Undulating across the walls and over my bed sheet and then I saw what it was. Millions of ants, of all different shapes and sizes. I willed them to crawl on me. With their help I removed the tubes and wires, and then a new idea came to me. I had them wrap around my legs, around my arms and with a little concentration I was able to move for the first time in months. I lifted my self from the bed. and glided across the room to the mirror. Looking at myself covered in a million maybe even a billion ants.
I may not have my wife, but I got my kids back and we were going to make things better. | 2014-07-16T02:39:51 | 2014-07-16T02:30:27 | 35 | 10 |
[WP] Ants, in every hive in on the planet, suddenly come under your complete and precise control. While amusing at first, you come to realize you have the world's largest and most unconquerable military force at your command. | "Earl's Bug Decimators, how can I help you today?"
"Yeah, I gotta here a nasty spider infestation in my house, one of 'um bit me real bad ya hear?"
"I understand sir. If you'll give me your address I can send half an anthill your way in no time."
"Much appreciated, how much this gonna cost me?"
"We'll send the bill later. For now, make sure you stay indoors and out of the way of our team."
After collecting the client's personal information the secretary hung up the phone and sent the digital form to Earl's computer. As the message dinged onto his screen, he instantly ordered 10,000 fire ants in West Mississippi to march towards George Robertson's humble home.
Earl could have used his absolute and unrelenting power over every ant on Earth for any sort of nefarious purposes. But he chose to use his unorthodox superpower for good. He started a bug extermination company that sent his ants nearly anywhere the client asked. More than that his ant army guarded crop fields worldwide, killing all pests and increasing food output to unparalleled levels. Endangered species were harder to kill and skin when a sea of ants would devour any poacher stupid enough to try. His ants even assisted search and rescue efforts by finding trapped people in collapsed buildings. There were endless possibilities for Earl's abilities, and he was just starting to tap his potential.
But there were downsides to his power. The connection went both ways, so not only could Earl influence the ants, but the ants could influence him. Slowly he went mad as years of insectoid intelligence crawled into his mind.
One day his secretary Martha walked into Earls office and froze dead in her tracks. Crawling on the ground on all fours was a naked Earl imitating an ant, complete with pens stabbed into his head as mock antennae. He skittered across the floor and out the window, diving into the massive anthill right outside the building. As thousands of ant bodies engulfed him he sunk slowly into the earth.
As he went down, Earl quietly though to himself:
*Every ant needs his Queen...* | The accident took everything away from me. My wife, my kids, my arms and legs. I can’t feed myself. I even shit in a bowl. There’s nothing left worth living for. Except my dreams, maybe. The nurse looks on watching yet another stupid soap and I scream, locked inside my skull, the sound reverberating in a dark echo through the folds of my brain. I can hear the heart monitors beeping increasing as the exertion to do something, anything, takes it’s toll on my shattered body.
The nurse looks over and presses a button and sweet darkness takes me.
My dreams after the accident were scattered. It made me dizzy even thinking about them, but as time went on I began to make sense of them. Slowly I realized I was looking at myself laying in the bed, barely human with all the wires and tubes hooked up to me. Looking at myself from everywhere in the room at once. The view expanded further as time went on and soon I could see the entire world around me. Every leaf of every tree, every tiny blade of grass in the whole world was within my perception.
At first I used this, dream state, to fulfill my fantasies. I checked out women’s locker rooms, snuck into banks and other simple things. Just dreams I told myself, but there was a sense of reality in them that I couldn't shake.
This time I focused back on myself and forced the view to congregate in my room. The view grew clearer and for once I could make out the numbers on the monitors. I willed my perception towards the nurse, mad at her for her ableness, for being able to continue to live a normal life. I woke when she started screaming and saw her out of the corner of my eye completely covered it a writhing black mass. Her screams tapered off slowly and I was alone, with the cursed soaps. I willed the T.V off and the black mass crawled up and covered it. I heard buzzing as it shorted out and was silenced.
This can’t be real I thought to myself. This is just another dream. I willed the mass to myself and it responded. Undulating across the walls and over my bed sheet and then I saw what it was. Millions of ants, of all different shapes and sizes. I willed them to crawl on me. With their help I removed the tubes and wires, and then a new idea came to me. I had them wrap around my legs, around my arms and with a little concentration I was able to move for the first time in months. I lifted my self from the bed. and glided across the room to the mirror. Looking at myself covered in a million maybe even a billion ants.
I may not have my wife, but I got my kids back and we were going to make things better. | 2014-07-16T03:19:08 | 2014-07-16T02:30:27 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] We finally receive a message from the stars. It's a surrender. | Received 2014-10-31 @ 00:01:28 though 2014-11-01 @ 12:17:58 and ongoing...
Signal repeats every three minutes. Message below is assembled from best pieces of intact data packets from multiple repetitions. Binary patterns interpret as standard Unicode, confirming intelligent origin with intent to communicate. Message is as follows...
--------------------------------
Please forgive us english. Translate is sometimes not good. Have to try OK?
Please accept we surrender. Conditions are optional. Please yes. we are serious.
Just stop.OK?
Civilization of us is in ruin. Nobody work. Nobody play. Nobody think anything. Everybody only watch them, so you win.
Serious. We quit. Please, just no more broadcast us you TV signals, OK?
Please?
| It was the damnedest thing.
I mean, it's one thing to find alien life on a planet, right? A couple of single celled organisms, a low level ecosystem, some algae. If you're lucky, and I mean "holy-musk, it's a miracle!" type of lucky, the planet may have given rise to some fauna and low level herbivores. The fact of the matter is, in the 5000 some-odd years since humanity had begun its grand escape, we had not once, not even ONCE, found a system with the complexity of our own. Nothing. Forget about sentience; the best we had seen was a few carnivorous animalizards picking at some insects. 1062 colonies, and that was it. Humans and lizards.
So that's why, when I saw the signal broadcasting from an unknown region of space on all frequencies, I shrugged it off. Just a joke from the band of bumpkins that I call a crew. A lark. A prank on their old fuddy-duddy captain. Very funny, if you take into account that it wasn't funny in the least. But when I looked over at my Communications Officer, it wasn't a face of suppressed laughter I saw. It was a face of confusion. A face mirrored by every other member on the bridge.
A surrender.
An *alien* surrender.
It was the damnedest thing.
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more incoming.
| 2014-11-01T17:24:25 | 2014-11-01T15:54:27 | 78 | 22 |
[WP] Airport authorities don’t recognize your passport because the country that issued it doesn’t exist. You are confused. You’re thinking: “What? I was born there! I’ve lived there all my life!”
Edit after 4 hours: I'd like to add that this writing prompt was inspired from this: http://www.reddit.com/r/UnresolvedMysteries/comments/1zsyz2/on_july_1954_a_man_arrives_at_tokyo_airport_in/ | This was something I had dreaded my entire life. Something my parents' parents warned them about. And, by God, it's actually happened.
Sitting just outside the office, I waited for the border guards to make up their minds. On second thought, they probably phoning some higher-ups for help. Not that I have any idea what to do either.
I checked my phone for messages. No reply from my brother yet. I suppose I should check on him later today - I doubt I'm leaving the country tonight anyway.
The television continued to broadcast the latest debate over China's "reclaiming" of Taiwan - or rather, Chinese Taipei, but it's not like things will get better. Putin got away with it 5 years ago, it was past time another ambitious country made their move.
I checked my phone for messages. The phone lit up to the photo of my friends and I, but still no messages. I suppose this year's reunion won't be happening. Who knew our annual tradition would end in such a fashion? At least it's not war, I suppose.
The doors to the office swung open, and the security guard who led me over to the side walked up to me.
"I'm sorry to hear about your... province's situation. Unfortunately we cannot allow you onto this flight, nor return your passport. Your ticket has been cancelled and refunded, and this document here will aid you in reapplying for a recognised passport. We apologise once again for the inconvenience."
No passport... of course they're confiscating something that still recognises my homeland. I sighed, and took the documents from him. "Thanks, I'll be heading home now."
I suppose in a matter of days, I'll be officially Chinese. At least it'll put an end to the confusion over my nationality.
God, I hate politics.
Note: this one is kind of a personal story, where my nation isn't actually recognised by many countries and organisations, but at least for now the passport works, and the political situation is stable. Sorry in advance if I accidentally broke any rules; criticism and suggestions are welcome. | “Golzania is a country! It should be right there on the map! Right there!” I point on the police officer’s map before continuing, “It’s an island below South Africa and it should be right there!”
“Sir, uh, we’ve never really dealt with such a problem before but you’re going to have to stay in this room until we get this sorted out. I’m really sorry. Would you like some coffee?”
“I never drink coffee outside my home country! If the coffee isn’t Golzanian, then it isn’t real coffee at all!”
“Yeah… okay. Well I’ll get you some water regardless.”
I sit there alone in the room and wonder what the hell kind of prank this is. It’s April 5th and I’m wondering if some asshole has arranged a delayed, elaborate April Fool’s prank. I travel for business regularly and this has never happened before. Soon that police officer returns to the room along with some bald guy in a suit. Fuck them both.
The bald guy speaks, “Sir we can’t allow you to leave Canada until this Golzania issue is resolved.”
“What do you mean I can’t go back home? I don’t want to stay in Canada any longer than I have to! My wedding anniversary is in two days and I need to go back home now!”
“We’re going to have to ask you a few more questions first.” Says the bald guy.
“Actually several more questions.” Says the police officer.
“No more questions! I was born in Golzania in 1965 and–”
“1965?” asks the police officer. “So you’re 100 years old?”
“No I am 35 years old! Do I look like I’m 100? Can you Canadians not do simple math! It’s the year 2000 and I was born in 1965. Therefore I am 35 years old!”
“It’s the year 2065.” Says the bald fucking guy and shows me a newspaper.
“What the hell is going on here? It’s 2000! Not 2065! I am a Golzanian and I am going through a grave injustice! I was born in Golzania! I learned how to read and write in Golzania! I rode my first bike in Golzania! I graduated from Golzania University with a Bachelor’s in Golzanian History! I fell in love at first sight with a strong Golzanian woman who is now my wife! I started my first business in Golzania and when I go back home I will never travel for business again!”
The bald guy and the police officer stare at me. Then they look at each other. Then the police officer speaks, “Sorry but you’re crazy.”
My head explodes. | 2014-11-23T11:34:56 | 2014-11-23T09:29:04 | 36 | 23 |
[WP] You hire a witch doctor to curse someone. However, the only curses you can afford are extremely petty. | "So, let me get this straight," Steve blinked. "For ten dollars, you'll make it so that whenever he looks for something, it'll be in the last place he'll look?"
The witch doctor nodded, revealing his yellowed teeth in a wide, Joker-esque grin. "Yes, that's right."
"So, like... if he lost his car keys, they'd be-"
"Yes, yes. The money now, please."
As he received the money, the witch doctor could only grin. He'd been at this for twenty years - and this was his only curse. Of course one would only find something in the last place they looked - why would they keep looking once they'd already found it? | "Six gold bits! That's ridiculous. Good luck elixir is cheaper than that, not to mention guaranteed to work. There's not even any proof that your so called spells will do anything!" The irate potential customer standing in my homely little shop stomped his foot to accentuate his complaints. I resisted the urge to fill his petulant face with boils.
"Ah, but good luck elixir is white magic. Legal magic. What you're asking me to do is black magic. Any magic intended to harm another is strictly forbidden. I'd really be sticking my neck out for you so pay up or shut up," my forced drawl came out a little impatient at the end. I had better things to do than argue with this petty creature and the electric sparks of magic dancing between my fingertips would soon expose my irritation.
"Intending to harm?" My maybe-customer scoffed. "What you described to me sounded more like a child's pranks than a spell that intends ha--" suddenly my definitely-not customer sputtered, his face growing red and mouth forming an indignant "o" as he struggled for words. The burning urge to scratch himself inappropriately actually improved his features.
I laughed. "You may want to try some preparation H or hydrocortisone cream with aloe for that," I remarked condescendingly. "Next time don't take hemorrhoids so lightly." | 2014-12-13T14:17:47 | 2014-12-13T11:39:14 | 89 | 14 |
[WP] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them. When you receive yours it says simply "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" | It was a freezing morning in New York.
I slipped into the local Starbucks for some coffee.
There was a new cashier today.
"Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?", She asked, exasperated.
"Soy un federale, tengo un gato en mis pantalones," I replied.
The disinterested look on her face vanished instantly.
"You...", she said, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
For a second my heart skipped a beat.
"Do you know how many years I've spent working in Mexico because of your bullshit!?" She yelled, smashing her fists on the Register.
It was her.
She was the one.
Edit: Damn, first gold. Didn't expect this. Thanks guys! | Today's the day, my eighteenth birthday, the day I find out what my true love will first say to me. Everyone looks forward to this day, many of them know immediately who they are going to marry.
I move forward in line, beginning to grow anxious. "What will they be like? Will they love me as much as I will love them? What if I never meet them?" I think to myself as I force myself to smile.
"Teddy, please step forward, take your card, and exit to your left." Commanded the harsh electronic voice of the matchmaking machine, causing my stomach to attempt escaping my body via my mouth. I close my eyes and take the card. I walk to the left, hands out feeling my way out of the building. I'm so afraid to read the card that I keep my eyes shut until Grace, my neighnor who never actually talked to me, took it. "Welcome to Starbucks. May I take your order? That's the stupidest thing I've ever seen on these cards. Mine says 'Yes! I knew I was going to be lucky!', how stupid" she said with a chuckle, and that's when I knew what I had to do.
First post, as well as the first thing I've ever shared. Hope you enjoy it. Any tips would be really appreciated.
| 2014-12-17T23:12:07 | 2014-12-17T20:57:20 | 2,270 | 49 |
[WP] So you just woke up, went downstairs for a cup of joe, and now you're standing face to face with an alligator. It's already taken over your recliner, and has told you that it has no intentions of leaving. | "Ahh, what the fuck?" I drop my morning coffee as I stare at the impossible.
The alligator sighed, looking off to the left. "Hmm, yeah. Welcome home buddy."
My desk to the right, I pull open the drawer feeling inside for my gun.
"Umm, ahh fuck again." The alligator said as he reached for the remote control. I take out my gun and point it at him. "Put it down man, you'll catch up soon enough."
I aim the gun at him. "I don't know what the fuck you are, but get the fuck out before I shoot." As I try to keep my bathrobe closed.
The thing picked up the tv remote and started flipping through the channels and I looked at the screen as he scrolled through the channels.
"Where were the people?" Each show, each commercial had an animal. The screen filled with vivid colour.
The alligator looked at me. "You gonna put that down?"
I do so mainly out of confusion.
"It doesn't even have any bullets."
I sit down. "What the fucks going on?"
The alligator turned to me. "Bad acid trip man, here have some pizza."
| "What do you mean you have no intention of leaving? And more to that matter, how did you even arrive?!" I asked in exasperation.
"Magic"
"Magic, oh come on" I slapped a hand to my forehead.
"You think you'll find it any easier to accept if I explain that I took a jet pack over from Santa Fe then hacked the entrance scanner on your condo?" He -- well I think it is a he, I'm no reptilologist -- squirmed in the recliner, as if not quite comfortable enough. Rough scales squeaked over the cheap leather of my favourite seat.
"Jet, er, pack? Scanner?"
"Yeah. Had to knock the doorman out first mind, but he'll be ok. I'd recommend you updating the firmware on that scanner though, version 1.043b has a lot of known vulnerabilities. Made getting in almost too easy" he sighed, comfy enough at last. "You gonna stick the coffee pot on or what?"
"I, er, guess" defeated in my questioning of the interloper I went to the small kitchen to recompose.
"And don't think 'bout making a dash for it either" he called after me from the lounge, "We got this place surrounded"
The mug I'd taken out of the cupboard crashed to the floor. "W..w..we" I stuttered, looking back towards the door to the lounge.
"Uh-huh. Quite the operation"
I walked slowly back into the lounge "What sort of, er, operation"
His long jaw pulled into what I asumed was the 'gator equivalent of a knowing smirk. "We got a proposition for ya"
I looked at him questioningly, but he didn't vouch any further information. Instead the motor of the recliner whirred as he lay back further. "You got any cookies to go with that coffee?" he asked.
| 2015-05-12T09:51:30 | 2015-05-12T07:49:00 | 27 | 14 |
[WP] All humans are born with a random word from their mother's language somewhere on their body. They develop powers and abilities based on these words as they mature into adults. Obviously some words are cool and some stupid. Tell me a story about life in this world. | My mother was Greek. My father was American.
I was born with the word καταιγίδα on my inner thigh. My twin brother, Spiros, has έδαφος behind his ear.
My mother was killed when we were eight years old, by a group of people who exploit their powers given to them through the Titling. My father, brother, and I barely survived.
He took us away, to a small town in southern France. A friend of my father, who was also being hunted by these people, accompanied us with his two sons. Lastly, we found a young girl in the wreckage of a house down the street. Dimitris has φλόγα inscribed on his collarbone, Ramos is tattooed with δέντρο, and Sofia bears the word θύελλα.
It's been ten years since my mother was killed. Ten years since we moved to France.
Ten years for us to develop and master our powers.
Sofia rules the wind, blowing it as she wishes. Dimitris summons fire, burning what he feels needs burning. Ramos is one with the trees, using them however he pleases. Spiros can shift the earth, hurling two-ton rocks a hundred yards. I create clouds and control the rain that falls from them.
Together, we are the Fysin. Together, we avenge those who have wronged us. Together, we fight against those who terrorize the innocent. Together, we are the rulers of nature.
Dionne, Spiros, Dimitris, Ramos, Sofia.
Storm, Earth, Flame, Tree, Gale.
| "Susan! Summer!" Cindy called from downstairs. "Come down, it's time to find out what your abilities are!" She brushed her very light brown hair out of her face.
Her two younger sisters, Susan and Summer, had just turned 12 that day. That was the age when they would find out what their words were, and what abilities came with them.
Cindy's word had been 'Rainshower' and it turned out she had the ability to create rain and control rain. It proved to be useful on multiple occasions. Susan suddenly jumped into her older sister's lap, while Summer sat in the chair next to the two.
"Alright, Susan, you'll go first." Cindy proceeded to search Susan all over, until she found a word tattooed on her neck: July.
"Well that's interesting.. Your word says.. July?" Cindy blinked. "Alright, stand up." She waited until Susan was up.
"Focus on your word, think about what it could mean, then try to use it on that target on the wall." She pointed to the target that she and her boyfriend, Joseph, had painted on the wall.
Susan focused, closing her eyes. When she opened them, the whole room was decorated for the 4th of July.
"Wow!" She grinned. "Cool!" Susan turned back to her older sister, a huge grin on her face. "Alright, now try to get rid of it. Imagine all of the decorations vanishing in your mind." Cindy told her.
Susan did so, and all of the decorations vanished. "Good job! You can run along now." Cindy praised. Susan ran upstairs, and Cindy then turned to Summer. "Alright, Summer, come here."
The girl sat on Cindy's lap, and Cindy proceeded to do the same thing she'd done with Susan to Summer.
This time, she found the word 'Apple' tattooed on the girl. "Hm. Your word is Apple." Cindy told her younger sister.
"Alright, focus on the target, do the same thing your sister did. Think of what the word might mean, and focus your powers on the target." She said, watching as Summer got off her lap.
Summer focused as hard as she could on the target....
And then the whole room was covered in apples. | 2015-07-04T12:24:54 | 2015-07-04T12:21:23 | 103 | 15 |
[WP] You and your spouse are fairly typical demonic overlords with a figurative/literal dark fortress, minions to command etc. The problem is your teenage child who's going through that rebellious phase; claiming that they're good, dressing in all whites and only listening to gentle hymns. | *My daughter, what were you doing?* I asked my only child, watching her turn pale as she noticed me.
'I was, I, I was out. I was at work.' I smiled. *Were you? What work required that outfit?* My child looked down at the gauzy, white cloth covering her body, loose and baggy. She had never been one to covet the skin-tight, breast baring silk that had been in fashion this century, but I understood. Like her father, like myself, she needed to rebel.
*You don't have to explain yourself to me. You know you may do as you wish with your life. It is what separates us from the host.*
She looked at me, drew a breath, and blurted, 'Mother, I want to join the host. I don't care what everyone will think, I don't want to be like you and dad.' I had known this was coming. Every child believe that they will follow a new path, blaze a new trail. The devil's children will always refuse to be chained to a life chosen for them by another, and I understood.
*Do as you want, daughter. I will not stop you. Your choices are your own. Just know you will always have a place here, if you wish to return.*
My child's eyes lit up, and she embraced me. She turned to leave, and I let her go. It wouldn't take long for her to realize the damage the host does. That inability to accept anything less than fervent praise from humanity would chafe her like it had me. The idea of damning a soul, sending it to grow into a monster, for the crime of asking a question; she would begin to question God as I had, and for that, the host would throw her to earth.
As her father and I had done before her, she would rebel against Heaven, and take her rightful place below. | "Look, you really need to deal with your son," my wife said in that weird echoing whisper she does when she's angry. "Him and his friends are laying siege to Castle Greymoor, for Vile's sake."
I span my head around to face my back without turning and scowled bitterly. "Oh he's my son, now? Why is he always my son when he's off gallivanting saving the world and lamenting his daemonic destiny?"
My wife floated past around and through me, an evil and foreboding wind carrying the rank stench of decay and an oppressive feeling of despair. She hadn't worn that perfume for ages, it was always sulphur these days, if she could even be bothered. She must **really** want me to do something.
"Fine, OUR son. But I had to tend to the slathering graw, so I think it's your turn to pick up some slack."
My body whipped around to face the same direction as my...well...face. "I really think you're blowing this out of proportion." I said with a slight huff and a bit of vomit.
"Out of...out of proportion!?" her voice was crashing thunder now. Great. "This will be the third time he's halted the Rending!"
I smiled broadly, fiery blood and rot pouring out of my pustulous maw as my sharp teeth clenched into daemonflesh.
"It's all the long con, don't you see," I said throwing out my arms dramatically. One of my skeleton minions immediately began playing a trumpet, battering a smaller fatter napping skeleton until he pulled out an accompanying kazoo. (That had been my son's idea, before he left. I found it delightfully annoying.)
"Nothing's better than a little family-on-family murder. He's just setting me up so that when I drain the marrow from his bones it'll all be suitably dramatic and horrifying and demoralizing and whatnot." I explained, clenching my fourteen hands with vigor as I talked about the marrow bit.
"You just made so many gestures I'd think you're turning Italian," my wife replied, forming a howling tornado until taking the shape of a human composed of many other melted together humans. Her face-body-face pouted. "Fine, we'll leave it FOR NOW. But you still owe me for the slathering graw."
I liked that body. Like a half-melted wax figuring made of suffering souls. I advanced hungrily. "Oh I'll pay you back for that right now," I said with a sultry wink of two of my three eyes.
"Oh you," my wife giggled in six different voices as I bit into her flesh. | 2015-12-08T09:18:38 | 2015-12-08T08:10:34 | 68 | 30 |
[WP] In the galaxy, humans are renowned for their affinity at problem solving. This leads to humans growing frustrated at aliens getting stuck with simple problems. | The light on the quantum entanglement phone blinked rapidly, indicating a new incoming call. Bill sighed, put on his headset and pressed the button next to the flickering light.
"Thank you for calling the United Terran Alliance Embassy, my name is-" Bill stopped short as he was interrupted by the gravelly, guttural voice of a Klixali shouting at him from the other end of the line.
After listening for a few moments Bill screwed up his forehead and rubbed at his eyes with both hands before responding, "Did you try turning it off and on again?"
| " RAe Oyu Eurs Ti Lilw Kwro?"
"Yes Garblox! it will work! " Frank shouted.
"TBu Oyu Iasd Ti 'Tnwo Kwro?" Garblox said in confusion.
"No no, that was earlier, when I wasn't dying. Now I'm saying it will work. Now Please help me!"
"TBu Benny Iasd Ti Udlow Eb Spselntiop Rthoseewi."
"Yes.... But Benny's dead now for thinking that. Now go on Garblox it isn't that hard."
"EYvr Lelw, Tbu Thwa Psnehpa Fi Ti S'endo Kwro?" Garblox, again confused of his choices.
"Last time I checked, You're highly skilled in using medicines! Now just use the anti-venom, It's that simple!" Frank said, as the poison begins to course in his veins.
"ERvy Lelw Nhet." Garblox said as he beings his procedure.
Garblox rolls a one.
"I'm sorry, but the anti-venom appears to be expired and fails to help Frank. and Frank dies of poisoning." Says the Dungeon Master.
"GOD DAMN IT!" Frank shouted out, whilst leaving the room. "This is the worse game of Dungeons and Dragons!" | 2016-01-03T19:46:51 | 2016-01-03T19:09:28 | 221 | 47 |
[WP] Bernie Sanders wins the presidency but is secretly assassinated. Now one of his team must continue his presidency ala Weekend at Bernie's. | "Did you get him?" asked the Vice President
"Not yet, sir. He hasn't picked up his phone."
"Well, keep trying."
"Should I text him, sir? The previous POTUS staff said he was a big texter."
"A big texter?"
"Yes sir, a texter is someone who uses texts as their primary mode of communication."
"Primary mode of? Christ. Yes. Text him. Now."
"What should I say, sir? First texts can be quite awkward."
The Vice President stared at his assistant Mike Holmes. He was a sweet kid and a complete imbecile. He should have never hired him, but sometimes you have to do a friend a favor and Mike happened to be the son of a very important imbecile.
The Vice President realized now he had been staring at Mike for close to 20 straight seconds without speaking. Mike dully stared back like a dog taking a shit waiting for you to come bag it and trash it.
"Good idea, sir. I will send him a staring emoji. It conveys the seriousness of the situation, but also keeps things light."
"Send a fucking text! Anything!"
Mike quickly typed on his phone.
"Sent, sir!"
"Ok, while we wait for that, what's plan B or C or fucking Z?"
"You mean D, sir. D follows C. E follows--"
"I know the fucking alphabet! You think I could become Vice President of the United States and not know the fucking alphabet?"
"Of course not, sir. Everyone has a brain fart now and then. Z sounds a lot like D. I can--"
"Stop speaking."
Mike opened his mouth, but stopped and just shook his head up and down.
"What's an alternative if he doesn't text back?"
"Oh he'll text back. The emoji I used is top 5 in response rate according to my experience using dating apps."
"Mike. I need you to really focus here. President Sanders is dead and the American people can't know about this. Stop texting emojis and give me some ideas."
"We could create a hologram of President Sanders and use that for public appearances."
"A what?"
"A hologram. It's a three-dimensional image reproduced from a pattern of interference produced by a split coherent beam of radiation."
"What the fuck did you just say to me?"
"Sir, you don't know what a hologram is? I don't want to explain it like the alphabet and have you angry at me again."
"I know what a fucking hologram is. I don't know what split beam radiation is."
"Well it's essentially when you use a lens to split a single beam--"
"Stop. How could a hologram help us?"
"They did it for Tupac at Coachella."
"I don't know what language you are speaking."
"Tupac is a rapper. Not my favorite, more of a Biggie guy. They made a hologram of him at a music festival called Coachella. It looked real to me, sir."
The Vice President had reached the point of desperation where he sat there considering this insane idea: creating a hologram of President Sanders. It could work, right? People believe anything. For fuck's sake, they almost believed Trump and voted him into office! This will work. A hologram! Hologram President Sanders will basically be just as good as the real thing. This is actually a solid plan all things considered. Mike might just be a pretty smart kid after all. I might even give him--
"Sir, we got him!"
"Huh?"
"He texted back."
"Yes! What did he say?"
"He said, 'New phone, who dis?'"
"What does-- wait, he didn't save our number?! That son of a bitch!"
"Sir, what should I say?"
"Explain everything. Tell him President Sanders was assassinated. Tell him this can't leak. We need to act as if Sanders is alive and we have a plan. We are going to name him to a new position very close to the presidency. He will appear publicly with President Sanders' dead body. He will hold Sanders up, nod Sanders' head, whisper 'advice' in Sanders' ear. All while smiling and acting like nothing is wrong. No one will suspect a thing cause it's him."
"Doing it now, sir."
Mike typed furiously. His fingers moved across the phone with a speed the Vice President thought wasn't possible. He was oddly impressed by this as every second mattered. He thought about Mike. Only 23 years old and clueless to the real world. He thought about how Mike would mature inside the White House. Have a real chance to see things many don't get to see and learn from them. A few years from now maybe one day he would run for the same position that got his imbecile father marginally famous. He would win with this type of experience and the foundation his father had built. He would have the chance to really change things for his constituents and do some good. It's rare a politician has that opportunity and Mike would likely garner some national attention if he did it even half decently. He would do all the right things and climb the political ranks. It seemed almost obvious that thirty years from now he would be exactly where the Vice President is today: in the oval office... As President. He would remember this exact moment and know that with the right minds any challenge can be--
"Sir, he's typing back."
The Vice President shook his head as he dismissed this wild day dream of President Holmes.
"Mike? What's the verdict?"
"Sir, he sent back a big smiling face emo--"
"That's good? Smile means yes, right?"
"And he followed that with the stuck-out tongue emoji."
"Shit. What does that mean? Mike, talk to me!"
"And he followed that with the dancer emoji. And the flexed bicep emoji. And the raised fist emoji. He won't stop sir. Emoji after emoji. Holy shit! He's so quick. He's the best I've ever seen at using emojis!"
"MIKE. IS. HE IN!?"
"He's typing... YES! He's in! He's all in!"
"MIKE! WE DID IT! We just saved President Sanders! We just saved America! He will be perfect to prop Sanders up and move his head to answer questions. This is perfect!"
The two raised their hands to high five. They didn't completely connect, but there was enough of a connection that they considered it worthy.
The Vice President sighed. He was proud of himself... and Mike too.
"Mike, you did good today. Now.. what title should we give this role for Former Vice President Biden?"
--
*Thanks for the love internets peoples* | A lobbyist enters the Oval Office.
Lobbyist: 'Ello, I wish to register a complaint.
(The press secretary does not respond.)
L: 'Ello, Miss?
Owner: What do you mean "miss"?
L: I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint!
P: We're closin' for Martin Luther King day.
L: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this president what I donated to not three months ago from this very city.
P: Oh yes, the, uh, the Northeastern Socialist...What's, uh...What's wrong with it?
L: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. 'E's dead, that's what's wrong with it!
P: No, no, 'e's uh,...he's resting.
L: Look, matey, I know a dead socialist when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now.
P: No no he's not dead, he's, he's restin'! Remarkable politician, the Northeaster Socialist, idn'it, ay? Catchy slogans!
L: The slogans don't enter into it. It's stone dead.
P: Nononono, no, no! 'E's resting!
L: All right then, if he's restin', I'll wake him up!
(shouting at the seated socialist with the rictus grin)
'Ello, Mister Bleeding 'eart! I've got a lovely fresh massive tax increase for you if you show...(Press secretary hits the chair)
P: There, he moved!
L: No, he didn't, that was you hitting the chair!
P: I never!!
L: Yes, you did!
P: I never, never did anything...
L: (yelling and hitting the chair repeatedly) 'ELLO PROGRESSIVE!!!!!
Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o'clock alarm call!
(Takes socialist out of the chair and thumps its head on the oval office table. Throws him up in the air and watches it plummet to the floor.)
L: Now that's what I call a dead socialist.
P: No, no.....No, 'e's stunned!
L: STUNNED?!?
P: Yeah! You stunned him, just as he was wakin' up! Septuagenarian socialists stun easily, major.
L: Um...now look...now look, mate, I've definitely 'ad enough of this. That socialist is definitely deceased, and when I donated to his campaign not three months ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it bein' tired and shagged out following a prolonged town hall meeting.
P: Well, he's...he's, ah...probably pining for some Ben and Jerry's.
L: PININ' for ICE CREAM?!?!?!? What kind of talk is that?, look, why did he fall flat on his back the moment he was sworn in?
P: The Northeastern Socialist prefers kippin' on it's back! Remarkable progressive, id'nit, squire? Lovely campaign slogans!
L: Look, I took the liberty of examining that president during the press conerence, and I discovered the only reason that it had been standing at the podium in the first place was that it had been NAILED there.
(pause)
P: Well, o'course it was nailed there! If I hadn't nailed that socialist down, it would have jumped over that podium, went straight for the Fox News reporter, and VOOM! Scandal!
L: "VOOM"?!? Mate, this socialist wouldn't "voom" if you put four million volts through it! 'E's bleedin' demised!
P: No no! 'E's pining!
L: 'E's not pinin'! 'E's passed on! This socialist is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker!
'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed 'im to the podium 'e'd be pushing up the daisies!
'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the twig!
'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisibile!!
THIS IS AN EX-PRESIDENT!!
(pause)
P: Well, I'd better replace it, then.
(he takes a quick peek in the hallway)
P: Sorry squire, I've had a look 'round the back of the oval office, and uh, we're right out of presidents.
L: I see. I see, I get the picture.
P: I got a Secretary of State.
(pause)
L: (sweet as sugar) Pray, does it raise taxes sky high?
P: Nnnnot really.
L: WELL IT'S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!!???!!?
P: Look, if you go to the DNC, they'll replace the president for you.
L: DNC, eh? Very well.
The customer leaves.
The customer enters the same pet shop. The owner is putting on a false moustache.
L: This is the DNC, is it?
P: (with a fake mustache) No, it's MSNBC.
L: (looking at the camera) That's inter-city rail for you.
The customer goes to the train station.
He addresses a man standing behind a desk marked "Complaints".
L: I wish to complain, District of Columbia Public Transit Person.
Attendant: I DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS JOB, YOU KNOW!!!
L: I beg your pardon...?
A: I'm a qualified brain surgeon! I only do this job because I like being my own boss!
L: Excuse me, this is irrelevant, isn't it?
A: Yeah, well it's not easy to pad these python files out to 200 lines, you know.
L: Well, I wish to complain. I got on the train and found myself deposited here at MSNBC.
A: No, this is the White House.
L: (to the camera) The president's press secretary was lying!!
A: Can't blame DC Public Transit for that.
L: In that case, I shall return to the White House!
He does.
L: I understand this IS the White House.
P: (still with the fake mustache) Yes?
L: You told me it was MSNBC!
P: ...It was a pun.
L: (pause) A PUN?!?
P: No, no...not a pun...What's that thing that spells the same backwards as forwards?
L: (Long pause) A palindrome...?
P: Yeah, that's it!
L: It's not a palindrome! The palindrome of "White House" would be "Esouh Etihw"!! It don't work!!
P: Well, what do you want?
L: I'm not prepared to pursue my line of inquiry any longer as I think this is getting too silly!
Marco Rubio: Quite agree, quite agree, too silly, far too silly... | 2016-02-05T22:36:01 | 2016-02-05T20:58:33 | 230 | 138 |
[WP] You just accidentally downloaded the Kindle version of the Necronomicon. | *The Necronomicon by The Mad Arab...I didn't download this, but I adore Lovecraft so I'm not complaining. Maybe Patricia put it on there as a gift.*
I looked at my Paperwhite with curiosity and excitement- after all, I'm a Lovecraft fanboy, yet somehow I've never actually peeked at any fan-made copies of The Necronomicon. I decided to open it, excited to see if it was a quality imitation...but instead, I just got a bunch of jibberish and weird symbols. *Well...I guess it's technically accurate? Kinda boring on a Kindle, though. This would be way better if it were a real book.*
Before I knew it, a flash of light and loud screeching sound filled my room, a little puff of smoke rising to the ceiling. I'd....I'd summoned C'thulu. There he was, staring at me, moving ever so slightly...
From inside my kindle.
*Paperwhites don't support gifs or videos, how odd.*
"Wh....*let me out of here fool*!" It screeched, black and white, e-inky and furious.
*Well....shit. This kindle doesn't have speakers...*
I tried to power it off, but it wasn't registering a response.
"*RELEASE ME FROM THIS CAGE IMMEDIATELY!*"
I threw the Kindle down and ran for my life, booming bellows of anger echoing behind me.
"*WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING, MORTAL! ^THIS ^^IS ^^^YOUR ^^^^RESPONSIBILITY!"
After successfully fleeing my house, I pondered how to handle the situation. Trying to format the device was too risky, destroying it could be catastrophic...
And then it dawned on me.
*I'll send it back to Amazon.* | "Honey, what is this?"
"What is what, Grandma?" I said, not lifting my eyes from my laptop.
"This book!" she said from her brown armchair, her eyes on my Kindle as she gesticulated wildly with the "stylus" she'd insisted I provide.
The stylus was a disassembled pen.
"I don't like it. It looks scary. Why do you read these things?"
I sighed, staring at her from across the room. I'd pointedly removed every thing that looked vaguely objectionable from my Kindle before letting her use it.
"Are you talking about the Rush Limbaugh book Grandpa downloaded?" I joked as I stood up, heading towards my Grandmother.
Said Grandpa huffed from his position on his armchair, and continued to watch football.
I leaned over my Grandma's shoulder to look at the screen as the referee on the television blew his whistle, and the crowd roared. I had a passing thought that they were clearly cheering for my joke.
"Necronomicon?" I thought, reading the title, mincing the syllables, at first unfamiliar. Suddenly, I remembered the sci-fi literature class I took in college.
"That's an HP Lovecraft book, Grandma."
"I really need to go on *Jeopardy*," I thought, "I'd kill it..."
"I don't care who wrote it, you shouldn't be reading things like that!"
I wordlessly plucked the Kindle from her hands.
"He's a fine author, Mary!" Grandpa said, leaning forward in his chair, itching for the small squabbles that kept their marriage alive after more than fifty years.
"Jesus, Grams, how many books did you download?" I said as they started to bicker. I couldn't help but press the Necronomicon's icon. It did look a little Satanic, standing out from the plethora of baking and Jesus-y books Grandma had downloaded. Cool.
Grandma stared at me momentarily, then narrowed her bespectacled eyes at my Grandfather, clearly plotting her devastating retaliation.
"Don't you blame me for-"
The wind begin to howl, and I felt like I was flying up and falling down at the same time.
I opened my eyes some time later in the middle of a gray canyon, a circle of Shoggoths around me.
From a distance, I heard my Grandpa yell, "My game!"
| 2016-02-10T09:40:53 | 2016-02-10T09:13:13 | 227 | 10 |
[WP] Write an over-the-top background story for an early video game that didn't have a narritive. Ex. Pong, Asteriods, Pacman | The lone member of his species, separated from his homeland by a waste of pavement, he gazed toward the horizon. Tears formed in his eyes at hearing the song of his people.
*ribbet*
The journey had been long and trying, and only this final trial was left before him. He didn't know whether or not the humans knew he was below their tires, scuttling from sidewalk to median to shoulder. But he knew he hated them, and would have his vengeance. The road was clear. He was so close. He extended one webbed foot out over the pavement, and took the first of his last steps toward home.
*squish* | "This is it, you all know me so I'll keep this brief. We have all suffered greatly, so many lives lost. I tell you it ends today. I have watched you, guided you through your training. It has been tough but here we stand. United against our enemy. We have been pushed back into the depths of space time and time again, but not today. They call us invaders, but we will reclaim our homeland. Our brightest minds have formulated a new strategy which will not fail. Today we will be victorious!"
With that a shout rose from the assembled pilots as they ran towards there ships. The General sighed, it pained him to watch such promising lives been thrown away. He watched as engines roared to life. It really was a beautiful sight. His squadron soared into the air. He took a final look at the strategy and climbed aboard the mother ship. This time would be different.
Fires burnt all across the mothership as the general looked out at the decimated remains of his squadron. How could this have happened? the plan was full proof. He watched as the anti air defenses honed in on his position. They launched a salvo straight through their own shields. He looked down at the battle plan the words scrawled across the page. Increase speed, move left to right. It should have worked. | 2016-02-19T07:04:49 | 2016-02-19T05:31:22 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] At birth every one gets a number assigned to them which determines their threat to humanity. You are number 1,039,474,023. Your newlyborn son is born. His number is 1. This number has never been seen before in all of history. | Society has changed a lot in the past 20 years... and not for the better. There has been so much widespread panic over security and terrorism, that we have abandoned our freedoms.
After the mapping of the neural pathways was successfully completed, a program called Destiny (not the game) soon followed. Destiny is a brain scan that plays out every possible event and outcome in your life, and averages all of the possibilities to generate a threat level. What this means is that, even if in .01% of outcomes you become a crazed murderer, your average will still be good.
Personally, my number registered somewhere around 1 billion, and my wife Karen is in the 3.2 billion range, so we're both considered *safe*. Anyone under 200 million is subject to near constant surveilance.
After about 3 years of happy marriage, Karen and I were about to have our first kid. The birth was normal, but nothing I want to get into detail about. The only thing we had to do was wait for the scans and tests to come back, and we would be all set to see our baby. Personally, I was more nervous than excited, but the looks of joy on my wife's face made it worth it for me.
"Honey, the test results are here" I said, as the doctor walked back in holding a clipboard. The look on his face was what got me. It didn't show anything was wrong, but something about it looked... *confused?*
I asked the doctor if something was wrong, and he looked at me with sad eyes, and said "I'm sorry. Your son is dead"
I was shocked at the news. When he was born he was healthy, appeared healthy, and had no problems... so how could he be dead?
The doctor looked at my wife and I apologetically, but then broke down crying. He thrust the clipboard towards us, where the average threat level displayed a #1, followed by the message "terminate immediately".
I handled the loss pretty well, but my poor wife couldn’t deal with it. For months after his death she would just stare blankly at the wall. Every so often she’d go out to bars and drink her sorrows away or go grocery shopping. It seemed like today was one of those days.
I sat down on my sofa and turned on the news. The major breaking story today was of a terrorist attack at the nearby hospital. The whole building was burned to the ground after an apparently violent shooting. At least 250 dead, over 2000 with minor wounds and many more in critical condition. Yeesh... that sounds horrible. As I was watching the news I heard the sound of keys turning, and Karen walked into the house. "Hey honey, have you seen the news? The hospital was burned to the ground in a terrorist attack." I told her.
She replied saying she hadn’t seen it and quickly went back to putting away the groceries.
On her shoulder there lay a single piece of ash.
| All our lives, we're assigned numbers. Numbers that determine who we are. What we're worth to our society. Anything from the unchanging social security number we get assigned to at birth to the GPA and SAT scores that we're told will determine the rest of our lives. But there's one number that we all have to live with. Numbers that determine who presents the most threat to humanity. Who could harm the most people if given the chance.
I am 1,039,474,023. Seems pretty harmless, but in a world of 7.3 billion, I am more dangerous than over 6.2 billion people. Kind of concerning. The worst part is, I don't remember hurting anyone. It makes me wonder what I've done that I had no idea about. Who I've hurt. Of course, in our society, it takes a certain amount of work and assertiveness to get what you want. That girl you like? Talk to her and crush the competition. That job you want? Apply to it and crush the competition.
When the threat scans were enacted, the most common argument was "What would you do if your son was number 1?" The baby is already born, so you can't abort. It hasn't done anything yet, so locking it up somewhere is illegal. It was one of those slippery-slope arguments we hear about all the time. When the individual grows older, their numbers become more important. People with a certain number aren't allowed to purchase firearms or go to an airport. In a court of law, these numbers are picked apart by lawyers and judges. A man with a number of 3G is going to get less time than a man who was 900K over the same crime.
There's nothing I can do about it now. People with numbers of 1G or less tend to get labeled as potential rioters. The best thing I can do is lead a silent protest and live my life in peace. My number doesn't bother me that much, to tell you the truth, nor does anybody else's. I don't think about it much and I never considered it to be important. Even when I heard those magic words, "I'm pregnant," I never thought about my son's number.
Sometimes in life, there are moments that are so profoundly shitty, you just don't believe them. The reading of my son's threat number was my unbelievable moment. Hell, the doctor was more scared than I was. I still remember that look on his face, the color draining from his skin. He scanned. And rescanned. And then got another scanner. And then got more doctors to scan my son. And then they went into the back room and spread the word around the hospital. Interns on their first day heard my son's number before I did. Finally, the Chief of Medicine approached me as I watched my son in the infant ward.
"One. Your son's number is one," he said. We both stared at my son through the glass. Who were we really looking at? The guy who would give Hitler a run for his money? A president who would throw the world into a nuclear apocalypse? A brilliant scientist who would accidentally destroy the human race? Whoever he grew up to be, we were looking at the most dangerous person in the world. Wasn't long after that the media showed up, trying to get a look at the most dangerous person in the world and the man who would raise him.
So, when you ask me that damn question... "What would you do if your son was number 1?" I'll tell you what I'd do. What I did. I took my son home to raise him. And I loved every second of it. | 2016-03-29T00:52:58 | 2016-03-28T22:22:57 | 97 | 48 |
[WP] Two immortals meet and fall in love. Neither of them are aware of the other's immortality and the years are flying by... | I thought I was done with love. Until I met Mary.
Love is complicated as an immortal. The longer that I've lived, the shorter my marriages fly by. They become blinks, blips in time compared with my lifespan. And the sorrow that follows after the inevitable death of a wife tends to last twice as long as the marriage itself.
So by the twentieth century, I had sworn off love. To satisfy my corporal hunger I'd still have flings- I dated Audrey Hepburn four or five times, as well as a few other actresses. After a while, it becomes easy- seduction is second nature after a thousand years.
I don't know what drove me so crazy about Mary. Maybe it was her smile, or the way her cheeks flushed with laughter after a glass of red wine. Or maybe it was the curls of hair that fell to her shoulders and sparkled in the moon light when we kissed for the first time. Or maybe it was the sheer amount of *work* I had to invest to win her over, a challenge unlike any for the past five hundred years.
That made Mary dangerous. Because falling so deeply in love would only result in sorrow for centuries after.
"Promise me you'll love me forever," Mary had said as we held hands, drifting over a small lake by rowboat. And I know she sensed me hesitate before I said "I promise", and we both knew in that moment the love had been spoiled. Even though I knew I would love her forever.
So that night, before I slept alone on the couch, planned to leave on a train east first thing in the morning, I wrote Mary a letter explaining the true reason why I had to leave. And I stuffed it into her bag, before falling asleep. And when I awoke, Mary had already left for the morning groceries.
I boarded the train in silence, watching the town disappear in the distance. And half a day later, I felt something in my pocket, and pulled out an envelope.
*John*, it read, *I've been meaning to tell you for quite some time, but when I said forever, I meant it. I know it is hard to believe, but I cannot die John. And I cannot bear to see you die while I persist on. So tomorrow morning, when I leave for the groceries, I'm not coming back. I love you, John, and I hope you understand. Goodbye.*
I read that letter several hundred miles away from where I left Mary. And I imagine at some point that day, she read my letter as well, and we both looked back towards the town we left behind.
And realized what we had actually left behind.
But in my heart, there's one thing I know. I know that we'll meet again.
Even if it takes forever.
***
By Leo
If you liked this story, check out my other work at /r/leoduhvinci
A lot of you are asking why they wouldn't just turn around and go back. That's kind of the point here, that they would. But there's always the question if Mary never opened her letter. | "Say, Miria."
"What's up Isaac?"
"Technology sure is an incredible thing."
"Something about it on your mind?"
"Why yes Miria. See, technology develops at an extraordinary rate, and only gets more and more complex by the era. Wouldn't believe some of the latest innovations we've seen go obsolete on us before we can afford them."
"You could say that again. Phones are looking nicer by the day, even if they do drive apart the family ecosystem. Oh it's tragic Isaac!"
"It certainly is, and did we not do our part by robbing that phone center of all their latest models the week before to preserve family values in this country?"
"What a noble thing we did!"
"Most certainly my dear. And that *same* center now has phones you can tap on the screen to issue commands!"
"I think someone called it a smart phone."
"Hmm, they don't look so smart to me, if phones are still driving children and parents from each other. The nerve of those smart phones! That's the thing though Miria. We're having a harder time catching up with those developments to keep up with our various quests."
"Oh I see Isaac. I think I know what you mean."
"How so Miria?"
"Well, there was something I read from a magazine I stole. About how technology in our daily lives grows at such a rapid rate, that average people no longer question where those technologies come from. So people would rather upgrade than ask questions."
"Yes, YES, that is EXACTLY what I am talking about! We alone are the observant defenders of righteousness, the noble thieves that protect families, children and discount hot dogs alike!"
"And taking away all the unhappiness these rapid developments are inflicting!"
"Giving people reasons to *be* happy!"
"And keep up with the world as best we can!"
"OH MIRIA!"
"ISAAC!"
"COME TO MY ARMS!"
"How I love you Isaac!"
"Yes Miria, we will continue this mission of ours for as long as it takes! But say, that reminds me."
"Of what Isaac?"
"We should go and grab some dinner soon."
"When was the last time we ate?"
"I can't recall, but see, only amateurs keep track of time to eat at regular intervals. *We* are master thieves for the public good! Only when we are hungry should we take time out of our mission to refuel ourselves!"
"Wow Isaac, and we're definitely masters with how long we've been doing this!"
"Quite a while now, hasn't it?"
"Is that something we should be keeping track of time on?"
"Oh, uh, of course not! Only our glorious purpose, having each other, and that lovely little restaurant on the corner of 3rd and Smith is enough!"
"But Little Dizzy's closed Isaac."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Can't remember how long ago it was, but you were so upset when they were no longer around."
"Hmm. Yet how *could* I remember?"
"Remember what Isaac?"
"Exactly! Our crusade is all that matters!"
"Oh right, I almost forgot!"
"Speaking of the crusade, we'll need to get some more finances to continue our noble mission."
"Yes, we have been running pretty low."
"Then that settles it. There's only one way to steal enough money to do so."
"Steal from the mafia?"
"Exactly my dear. We steal from the mafia."
"Where can we find them these days?"
"I can't remember. Lets go look for them."
-------------------------
*Based on the series [Baccano](http://myanimelist.net/anime/2251/Baccano). More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!*
| 2016-04-27T21:47:49 | 2016-04-27T21:20:00 | 519 | 80 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | I have the most beautiful wife in the world. She's the sunshine of my life, my other half. At first she wanted nothing to do with me, but I won her over with my charm. Sure, I'm 40 and she's 25, but I'm not a pedophile as some claim me to be. She's mature for her age, has a steady job, and we are moving out of our apartment in the city to the suburbs on our 15th anniversary next Wednesday. | Sheryl kisses me on the cheek, patting my shoulder. I put an arm around her waist briefly; she is in the middle of getting dressed and we're running behind. While she buttons her dress, I knot my tie. I lace my shoes as she slips into her best brown heels, the ones with the little bows on the tops. I watch her brush her hair, quick smooth movements, her chestnut waves shining. It's tempting to run my fingers through her hair but we don't have time and she wants us to look our best.
We go downstairs together. Billy is reading out loud to his little sister and I stop to watch them with their matching earnest expressions.
"Are you ready, kids? It's time." Billy puts the book down and takes Rebecca's hand, and we step out onto the front porch. My wife puts a hand on my back as I lock the door; old habit. Billy and Rebecca make faces at each other and I fix his collar, which has flipped up.
Right on time. The four of us stand hand in hand and vaporise as the first bomb hits, leaving nothing but our shadows. | 2016-05-19T11:50:39 | 2016-05-19T11:23:33 | 311 | 208 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | It was the toughest race of my life. The water was everywhere. Many of my friends were already dead, but I knew if I kept going I could make it. I could feel everything around me get softer the more I continued. I was drenched but I wasn't going to give up, not this close to the end. I finally felt the air on my skin. I had made it. Water was all over the ground and my friends, at least those who made it, were all there with me. Happens every time it rains I suppose, it just caught me off guard this time. It took a little too long to creep and crawl my way to the top, but whoever said a worms life is an easy one. | Hello darling, I haven't heard from you in a while. I know it's been radio silence between us, but I really had to ask-
Do you still think about me?
I've begun to reminice about you more. Remembering all those little things you did for me, the pictures we drew together. I've gotten back into listening to our favourite songs. Sitting on the bus, watching the world go by, thinking about having you whisper sweet succulent nothings in my ear.
You might say I'm obsessed again.
We'd talk about being famous. You were willing to do anything, as long as it was with me. We'd become billionares through sheer luck. Cure the world. Start a band. Live a little, hell, live a lot.
I hope you still think of me that way. I know I left, but it was mostly my family's fault. You know how my grandma sides with your father's opinion of you. I still think you're amazing. I hope you know that.
My life has gotten so much more boring after you left. I go to work, I go home, I watch my dreams fade and die. I can't hold on to them with a single pair of hands. I miss you, my darling. I love you. I guess all I really mean to say is... I'm ready to sell my soul now. | 2016-05-19T12:45:26 | 2016-05-19T09:39:43 | 70 | 33 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | Dear Diary,
It's been such a long trip! I keep bugging Mom to find out when we are going to arrive! Looking out the window gets boring pretty quickly, the scenery just starts to all look the same.
Most of my siblings agree, except, of course, Miss Goody Two Shoes. You know the one. She just smiles at Mom and says what a lovely journey it is and how much she is looking forward to our arrival.
Well, that's all for today!
Dear Diary,
It's so exciting!!! Mom says we will be there in about an hour. I can't wait!! I'm so so so hungry and Earth has some amazing tasting humans! | Hello darling, I haven't heard from you in a while. I know it's been radio silence between us, but I really had to ask-
Do you still think about me?
I've begun to reminice about you more. Remembering all those little things you did for me, the pictures we drew together. I've gotten back into listening to our favourite songs. Sitting on the bus, watching the world go by, thinking about having you whisper sweet succulent nothings in my ear.
You might say I'm obsessed again.
We'd talk about being famous. You were willing to do anything, as long as it was with me. We'd become billionares through sheer luck. Cure the world. Start a band. Live a little, hell, live a lot.
I hope you still think of me that way. I know I left, but it was mostly my family's fault. You know how my grandma sides with your father's opinion of you. I still think you're amazing. I hope you know that.
My life has gotten so much more boring after you left. I go to work, I go home, I watch my dreams fade and die. I can't hold on to them with a single pair of hands. I miss you, my darling. I love you. I guess all I really mean to say is... I'm ready to sell my soul now. | 2016-05-19T10:54:03 | 2016-05-19T09:39:43 | 53 | 33 |
[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" | "Get me a drink, hun?" Pete said. He'd bent the cover back on his little paperback, the spine creaking when he turned pages. The train was rattling two empty Buds. Sarah, chin on her hand, sighed. Clink, creak, rattle, cough, sneeze, clink, creak. Her skull was squeezing tight to her brain, each noise pinching it.
Their car was wedged between the Tarot woman, who was clouded in sleepy sweet chamomile perfume, and a couple of teens with one suitcase between them and too much guilty giggling. Sarah passed by the teens, and they looked away, holding hands. The barman charged her another ten for the Bud while the fat man slept on the bar. A screen on the wall showed digital hearth fire, and the drinks car had a smothering warmth.
The plush carpet was soft on Sarah's socks. Sweat prickled under her hair and along her shirt's hem. The train hit a bump. She could feel her spine moving around beneath her brain, grinding into soft wet tissue. She put the Bud on the bar and, slowly, lowered herself to the floor to sit against the wood. The barman asked if she was alright and she waved him off.
This was a stupid trip. Let's go see Pete's parents, let's go have a nice little reunion where his aunt Casey can sniffle and play with her bottle glasses. His mom can give Sarah the stink eye and ask how long until they're married. Someone will mention Pete's absentee father and then there will be a fight and Sarah will want to cower in the corner and hold her head until it stops bursting from noise. Then they'd get on the train again and go back to the apartment they shared in New York. Taxis honking, people shouting, cursing, stomping, the girl upstairs banging away at every hour.
There were two glass bottles in their room. Broken glass was sharp. There was a letter opener, a graduation present, in her luggage. Skin was like paper. There was a driver in the front with gears, levers, and buttons. A train could be derailed. These thoughts made Sarah's stomach quivery, like butterflies and last-minute test anxiety. Then she rubbed her eyes, rubbed the ideas and pictures from her head.
The Tarot woman picked Sarah off the ground, brushing lint from her shorts. The chamomile perfume bloomed in Sarah's head and her eyes itched with it. She was lead by hand to the Tarot woman's car, unable to stand on the bucking, bumping train. The room was dark silk gowns strung by the necklines from the overhead, casting slippery shadows. The Tarot woman sat Sarah down and dabbed the tears from her eyes.
"Gonna read my fortune?" Sarah asked. Her voice scratched up her throat. The Tarot woman smiled, just her naked lips, curving up her cheeks. She pulled out a deck, pulled out a card, put the card face down on the table. Sarah flipped it; an upside down tower of ivy stricken granite. The window had two gold eyes that looked down on Sarah. Burgundy and brown oozed from the cracks.
The Tarot woman patted Sarah's hand. "Another try, then. Perhaps you'll find the nerve on the seventh time." | 2016-05-19T14:52:21 | 2016-05-19T12:53:52 | 36 | 25 |
[WP] One morning, you wake up and suddenly find yourself three years in the past, as if the last three years had never happened. It happened to the entire world and everyone remembers. | I ran into the wall with a thud. My eyes snapped open as the pain throbbed in the my temple. What the...? There wasn't supposed to be a wall there.
I looked around. And I was...it was oddly familiar and yet totally wrong. I lived here but I didn't LIVE here. I HAD lived here...3 years ago.
I began to panic. "TOM!" I screamed, tears welling up in my eyes. This had to be a nightmare. Maybe I could make myself wake up. And I'd be in bed with my husband, where I belonged. And everything would be okay.
I simply sat and cried for several hours. Found a cell phone..."my" cellphone...from 3 years ago. And the date. Three years ago.
Eventually the tears dried up and I started to think. It was okay. Fine. I could manage this. Where would Tom have been, 3 years ago? College in Boston. I rushed to the airport.
It took a few days, the terminal was crowded with dozens of others, trying to track down loved ones...or the ones they WOULD love. I shared a seat on the plane with an ecstatic man in a business suit. His wife, he told me, was still alive, back at home. Three years ago he'd been on a business trip, traveling 80% of the year. But not anymore. This time he would finally quit that job like she wanted him to. This time he would stop her from getting in that car. This time they'd be together forever.
It would have been a sweeter story on any other day, but my mind was so consumed with finding him, I could only smile along lamely.
I made it to his college campus, silently thanked the gods that he'd bitched so much about that run down dorm. Found his name on a row of mailboxes, telling me his floor and room.
I was breathless by the time I made it up to the fourth floor. I didn't knock, simply threw open the door and burst into the room.
"Tom?!"
The unfamiliar young man smoking a joint at the window gave me a wry smile.
"You must be Sara. He's gone to Los Angeles to look for you." | You wake up. Something's off. Your room looks the same, but not quite. Glancing around, you still can't put your finger on it. Fuck it, what time is it? You reach out to check your phone.
What. The. Fuck.
Your iPhone 4? You upgraded years ago! Wait.. the screen says 2013.. was.. was it all just a dream?
You sit for a minute and laugh, "It's like that game, Roy" but then remember that Rick and Morty was just part of the dream. "God damn, that was vivid," and you put some pants on and head to the kitchen.
You forgot about your fish, which had died long ago in the dream.. because you'd forget to feed it. Guiltily feeding Nemo, you still can't really believe it's 2013, and that whole experience was a dream. You wonder, "What happened today, in that dream?" but find it impossible to grasp. The only clear things seem to be a basic plot of steadiness in life, political strife, and pop culture, thinking "God, if I was a musician or filmmaker, I could just take over the next few years." And you turn on the TV.
But it's blue. No signal, nothing's coming in. Then you hear it. You've been so inside your own head about this dream that you didn't even hear the light roar outside.
You see them, filling the street, before you can even open the window. New York can be packed, but you've never seen this many on your block. It's like all of NYC is headed somewhere. Walking.
"What the fuck is going on!?" You shout to the crowd. A man stops near your building, "You had the dream, right? Where you lived every day into 2016?" Everything goes numb. No. How is this possible? "THE dream," he'd said. They'd all had it? Did everyone have it? How long was this known? No one called you? You check your phone again. 2013 still doesn't seem right, but you see it. No signal. What the fuck was going on?
He's still shouting to you, and it seems you catch on where it matters. "..Sanders and Trump. We're all walking to D.C.!" "What?! That's like a few hundred miles!" You shout back. Nothing that has happened today makes any sense. "What else can we do? It just feels right! People have been looting and burning everything corporate down. It's the revolution!! Right, brothers and sisters?!?!!" The mass of people swelled with sound and began chanting different slogans until one had gained the most followers and they all adopted it. It was some old hippie song, and the crowd that sang was already walking through the next intersection.
You sat down and looked at the fish.
/u/tfity | 2016-06-11T11:41:13 | 2016-06-11T11:16:53 | 298 | 27 |
[WP] One morning, you wake up and suddenly find yourself three years in the past, as if the last three years had never happened. It happened to the entire world and everyone remembers. | I woke up next to the wrong woman this morning. It didn't even register I was in the wrong place as I was too busy screaming in horror. My mind was racing with the reasons why she was laying there and slowly waking up herself. You see, she's dead. Or, she was until I woke up. If she was alive, then where was our son?
Two days have gone by now and she remembers everything too. Including her death. Including the son she gave birth to that caused the health issues leading to her untimely death so very soon after birth. Turns out our son doesn't exist anymore either. Whatever event that brought people back into existence also seems to have nullified our very young into non-existence. There's absolutely no trace of him.
To make things worse I can't seem to find my wife, the woman I fell asleep next to before all of this happened. I miss her. I miss my son.
The world is trying to cope. We are trying to cope. She's not taking it well and frankly neither am I. We both know what we've lost, or could lose again. I don't think I could go through the pain again. She says the same. We know what we will do. I can only hope I find my son where we're going next. | The pain hit her suddenly as she opened her eyes. That dull pain, aching in every inch of her being, restricting her as she tried to move. How did she ever put up with this? How did she get up every day like this and live a life?
And, oh God, the limitations. She moved her arm -- so much effort just to do such a simple thing. She stretched, and her body could only go to the limits of her muscles and bones. She tried to move herself into the next room, but she went nowhere. "I have to walk," she thought. "I have to walk." How was it possible that she would have to walk.
"Grandma?" she said. "Grandpa? Great Grandma? Anyone?" But no one could hear her--inside her head was just the buzzing, annoying little noises that you hear all the time. All the time.
"Susan?" Her name. Her husband! Oh God, of course, he would be here. "Oh my God, Susan. Oh my God. Oh my God. You're alive!"
Alive. Yes, that's what she was. She was alive -- back on the other side of the light, back separated from her family and from all that peace. She was alive.
And now she knew. She knew where you went, she knew what happened after you died. She knew that it didn't matter how you got there, and what you did in your life -- that every human being was allowed in. (Hitler, Stalin, and other demons were not, of course, but they had never been human in the first place.) She knew that even if you killed everyone you knew, it would just be returning them and you to that place of peace.
And she knew where her husband kept his gun. | 2016-06-11T14:37:29 | 2016-06-11T13:30:18 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] You were born with a large birthmark in the shape of a dragon. However, this is just a coincidence; there is absolutely nothing magical about it, and you're getting really tired of explaining this. | "Does it give you visions?"
"No."
"I mean, weird dreams, stuff like that?"
"No more than eating cheese late at night."
"Bu-"
"Actually, probably even less than the cheese. The one I had after the quattro formaggi on Saturday was pretty wild."
"Was it about dragons?!"
"...no."
"But it's shaped like-"
"I know what it's shaped *like!* It's just a dark blob of a birthmark. It could look like a lot of different things."
"It *is* a dragon, though. Look, it's even got little wings."
"Quit it about the shape. Please."
"OK. Sorry, if I made you uncomfortable."
"Its fine, really. I should be used to it by this stage. Can we move on?"
"Sure, sure. Next question."
"Thanks."
"Um, what woul- wait, does it ever, like, throb or get painful?
"What?"
"Like, maybe during times you're stressed or something?"
"N-"
"Ooh, or else maybe it heats up?"
"No!"
"...does it get itchy at least?"
"....."
"Ooook, no more birthmark questions. Let's change it up. Do you have any questions for me, Mr...Azugtooth?"
"Azgrathoth."
"Yes, yes. My apologies. Any questions, Mr Azgratot?"
"If I get the job, should I expect any more questions about my birthmark?"
"Would it be an issue for you?"
"Yes, very much so."
"Then I am afraid to say that the Wizards of the Coast marketing department may not be the kind of work environment you're looking for, Mr Azatoot." | Your friends had always pestered you to get an account on that godforsaken app, Tinder. You'd always declined because of that stupid fucking birthmark-- you knew how any internet date would go given the mark's shape and more importantly, location. After six months of brushing them off, the nagging loneliness building inside you coupled with the recent redoubling of their efforts("What if you die alone? We just care about you!" Thanks, Karen.) led to your making an account. To avoid as much bullshit as possible, you attach a photo of the mark in addition to the typical barrage of selfies. Almost immediately, you get a match and agree to meet up with the boy-- partially due to you finding him attractive(what with his long, fantastic beard and luscious man bun), but more due to your friends finding him so attractive(Fuck you, Karen).
You approach the movie theatre and see him standing outside the ticket booth, tapping away at his phone. He is disappointingly bald, as well as clean-shaven, but you find yourself victimized by your fear of sunk costs, and you re-adjust the tube top you're wearing, suck in your stomach, and plod on.
"Hey," you greet as enthusiastically as possible. Immediately his eyes travel down to your chest and his jaw hangs open a little bit. Just as yours is about to clench, he normalizes his disposition and greets you in return.
"I didn't realize how long the birthmark was.. does the fact that it's coming out of your cleavage have any significance?" You roll your eyes, but, having heard this all before(and having given up all expectations of this date going well), decide to have a bit of fun with this.
"I don't know what you're trying to ask."
"Well," he continues, "Do you have powers? Like.. magic boob powers?"
That's a new one, you think sarcastically before shifting your weight and giving him a once over.
"Well," you continue, mocking his tone, "I haven't asked you about YOUR shape-shifting powers yet."
"My powers?" He echoes, confused.
"Yeah, how else would you have gone from being a lumberjack on your Tinder profile to a lesbian in person?"
(my first try at a W/P. critiques not only welcome but preferred to praise. thanks :>) | 2016-08-04T16:31:56 | 2016-08-04T15:02:23 | 36 | 18 |
[WP] You come home after the worst date of your life. Sitting in your living room is Cupid, getting really drunk and wanting you to know you're the hardest person to find a mate for in history and the reason he might get fired. | "Fuck" Danny said as he opened his front door.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the hell is wrong with me!" Danny screamed as he slammed his keys on to the door side table.
Another date, gone horribly. Danny was going on a date with a girl named Amanda, and at first it was nice, they had a nice dinner, and after dinner they went to the nearby park. Eventually after a long walk they sat on a bench underneath a cherry tree. The pink pedals were falling, it was such a romantic moment. Danny slowly moved his hand on top of hers and they moved in for a passionate kiss. The kiss was good, almost like sparks were about to fly, until she started to go into cardiac arrest. Turns out she was allergic to peanuts, and eating Pad Thai at the restaurant wasn't the best idea.
"Fucking fuck," Danny said as he quickly turned the corner to see a chubby looking child sitting on his couch, the color of his cheeks were rosy red, and next to him was what appear to be a bottle of vodka.
"FUCKING FUCK IS RIGHT," the child screamed as he cocked his head towards Dannys direction.
"Who are you and what are you doing in my house?"
"MY NAME, *hic* IS CU-MOTHER FUCKING-PID, AND YOUR NAME, IS STU-MOTHER FUCKING-PID."
"Cupid???"
"THAT'S RIGHT, AND YOU ARE A RIGHT PIECE OF SHIT, WHO CAN'T DO LOVE APPARENTLY. EVERY TIME I FUCKING SET YOU UP WITH SOMEONE YOU MANAGE TO ALWAYS FUCK IT UP."
"Alright that's being a little harsh, today's date was an honest mistake,"
"NOT JUST TODAY, WHAT ABOUT YOUR LAST DATE?"
"Okay honestly I didn't know she had PTSD okay?! I thought fireworks would be romantic,"
"AND THE LAST DATE?"
"I honestly didn't know what the dolphin was doing."
"YOU, ARE THE ABSOLUTE WORST. YOU KNOW, YOU'RE GOING TO BE THE FUCKING REASON I'M GOING TO LOSE MY JOB. YOU LIL-"
Suddenly Cupid paused. Dannys phone suddenly vibrated. Danny pulled out his phone and looked at the screen with his jaw open.
"Who is it?" Cupid asked.
"It's... Amanda."
"Well! What did she say?!"
Danny held up his phone and showed the screen to Cupid
Amanda - 2nd date?
EDIT: Formating and spelling | [Note: Whoops. I misread date as day... But I really enjoyed writing this, so I'll let it stand with apologies.]
It had been a weird day.
Sam had woken up late because, for some reason, her alarm hadn't gone off. She'd run nearly the whole way to the stop but still missed her bus. Then, standing there panting and trying to look up the timetable on her phone, a sleek black Mercedes had pulled up beside her, the window had wound down and some.. Guy had asked if she needed a lift.
He had been good looking but... That's such a weird, creepy thing to do. She'd declined as politely as she could and then waited for the next bus.
Then, in her office lobby she'd gone to try and grab a quick coffee before she went up, only for some reason her credit card got declined three times. This was not turning out to be her day. She'd been about to walk away and rush up stairs so she could get to work and call the credit card company when some other guy just lent over and, with a sleazy smile, paid for her coffee.
She'd sighed and thanked him for the gesture then run off as soon as her coffee was ready, despite him trying to trap her in small talk.
Then, during the day, Bill who she'd known for /years/... And admittedly thought was pretty cute... Made a pass at her! But she was his project lead and the work place policy on superiors mingling was /super clear/ after that law suit last year.
So when the day was finally over, after at least a half dozen winks and leers from everyone from clients to the mail boy, she'd head off. It had been a weird and exhausting day. She just wanted to listen to her music and be comfortably isolated from the world while she recovered.
But of course, she wasn't that lucky. On her walk from the bus stop back home, some guy had stepped in her way. When she tried to walk around him, he had waved in front of her face and gestured at his ears like he was taking out imaginary headphones.
With an exasperated sigh she'd taken hers out and given him a /look/. He just grinned confidently and started on some spiel about how he knew it was weird but she was just /soooo/ beautiful he couldn't pass by. As politely as she could she thanked him for the unwanted compliment, put her headphones back in and fast walked home, keeping an eye out for anymore weird guys.
Had she accidentally put on some kind of weirdo attractant today?!
Then when she got home and opened the door, she screamed, grabbing her mace from her handbag. There was some NAKED guy sitting on her couch! Dressed like a fucking angel! With a bow and arrows!!
The 'angel' looked at her, wavering slightly and waving the nearly empty bottle in his hand about as he pointed roughly of at her. "Ya know..." He slurred, "Yuir really hard work..."
[EDIT: Grammar/spelling]
[Part 2 in the comments] | 2016-09-05T22:11:09 | 2016-09-05T20:25:44 | 125 | 11 |
[WP] You come home after the worst date of your life. Sitting in your living room is Cupid, getting really drunk and wanting you to know you're the hardest person to find a mate for in history and the reason he might get fired. | God damnit.
"Same sentiment kid."
What the hell.
"Yup, that's what I'm thinking about you right now."
"Could you stop with the mind reading!" I yelled. This was just fantastic. I get home from the date from hell only to find that a man broke into my apartment and had started on my scotch. Normally, I would of shot the intruder, but this guy was something special. This 'introducer' was none other than Cupid himself. He wore a pink button up shirt, three top buttons unbuttoned to show off his chest, what looked to be $500 dollar jeans and designer dress shoes.
I expected Cupid to look more....angeley. Maybe a bit fatter but it seems like a trimmed down over time.
"You know," He started after a sip. "You are the reason why I'm getting fired."
"Fired? What for? You hooking me up with bad dates?" I told him as I took a seat across the table.
"No, because YOU screw up the dates!" He yelled. "I find dream girl after dream girl for you and all you do is fuck it up." He sighed before taking a swig of the scotch. "I just want to keep my job, not live down here with you mortals."
I sigh. The first two dates I was not feeling it. They just seemed forced to me. The third one was a pickpocket and a kleptomaniac. While the fourth...
"Why did you hook me up with crazy Amy?" I asked.
"Well, I was desperate and she fit your criteria. I mean, she was into video games, clever, had the personality to make you laugh-"
"Wanted to stab me with a steak knife." I finished. "She wanted me all to herself, the other girls be dammed."
"Hey I'm just doing my job here." He refilled his cup. "I don't do background checks on these people."
"You hooked me up with a Yandere!" I rose my voice. I stood up and started walking to the bathroom. "Take my scotch and get out Cupid."
"In a few hours I'm going to be your roommate at this rate." He yelled back before his wings extended and he flew out my window.
God damnit...... | [Note: Whoops. I misread date as day... But I really enjoyed writing this, so I'll let it stand with apologies.]
It had been a weird day.
Sam had woken up late because, for some reason, her alarm hadn't gone off. She'd run nearly the whole way to the stop but still missed her bus. Then, standing there panting and trying to look up the timetable on her phone, a sleek black Mercedes had pulled up beside her, the window had wound down and some.. Guy had asked if she needed a lift.
He had been good looking but... That's such a weird, creepy thing to do. She'd declined as politely as she could and then waited for the next bus.
Then, in her office lobby she'd gone to try and grab a quick coffee before she went up, only for some reason her credit card got declined three times. This was not turning out to be her day. She'd been about to walk away and rush up stairs so she could get to work and call the credit card company when some other guy just lent over and, with a sleazy smile, paid for her coffee.
She'd sighed and thanked him for the gesture then run off as soon as her coffee was ready, despite him trying to trap her in small talk.
Then, during the day, Bill who she'd known for /years/... And admittedly thought was pretty cute... Made a pass at her! But she was his project lead and the work place policy on superiors mingling was /super clear/ after that law suit last year.
So when the day was finally over, after at least a half dozen winks and leers from everyone from clients to the mail boy, she'd head off. It had been a weird and exhausting day. She just wanted to listen to her music and be comfortably isolated from the world while she recovered.
But of course, she wasn't that lucky. On her walk from the bus stop back home, some guy had stepped in her way. When she tried to walk around him, he had waved in front of her face and gestured at his ears like he was taking out imaginary headphones.
With an exasperated sigh she'd taken hers out and given him a /look/. He just grinned confidently and started on some spiel about how he knew it was weird but she was just /soooo/ beautiful he couldn't pass by. As politely as she could she thanked him for the unwanted compliment, put her headphones back in and fast walked home, keeping an eye out for anymore weird guys.
Had she accidentally put on some kind of weirdo attractant today?!
Then when she got home and opened the door, she screamed, grabbing her mace from her handbag. There was some NAKED guy sitting on her couch! Dressed like a fucking angel! With a bow and arrows!!
The 'angel' looked at her, wavering slightly and waving the nearly empty bottle in his hand about as he pointed roughly of at her. "Ya know..." He slurred, "Yuir really hard work..."
[EDIT: Grammar/spelling]
[Part 2 in the comments] | 2016-09-05T21:58:45 | 2016-09-05T20:25:44 | 20 | 11 |
[Wp] The zombie epidemic came and went in the developed world, most people survived, the military easily defeated the undead horde, and cures for the virus were created. However, zombies remain major issue in the developing and under developed world not getting nearly enough attention on the news.
Wow I didn't think that this prompt would would end up this big. These stories made my night, thanks for all the replies and keep up the good work. | "Apparently they found another villiage in Africa that was hit by an outbreak."
I looked up from my phone, "Zbola? Wasnt there just another one last month?"
"Dont call it that. A lot of people still die over there." He took a long sip from his coffee.
"I thought Mercenaries Without Borders was really cleaning up?"
"Theyre short on funds and manpower. Nobody wants to go over there with jobless doctors and gun toting psychopaths to maybe save 1 or 2 people."
I looked down at the tattoo on my forearm; a large ribbon that wrapped it three times, pinned in place by my scar. The scar from where the needle had broken the skin and cured the virus.
I sat there for a minute. I had crossed over to the other side, my body and mind starting to rot. I was supposed to be dead but i had been saved. I was so much more lucky than a lot of other people. Maybe i could be of some use and help others, i could donate or even look into flights
"Yeah you're probably right." I went back to my phone | Before zombies had been a reality, people would have long discussion on how they would survive if they were to be in a situation where zombies would overrun the world. They never got the chance to live out their zombie "fantasy", as the problem never got out of the hand of the government. They had been prepared, almost like they knew it was going to happen at some point. It only took three days from the first report, until the last zombie was declared dead.
It was easy to forget that it had happened not that long ago. Nobody really talked about it anymore, it had been such an underwhelming event, with so few deaths that people had quickly gotten on with their lives.
The only time it would pop into your head, were if an American person had been killed overseas in a zombie related accident, or if some survivors had been saved and were coming home. The news had stopped reporting on the zombies a long time ago, as almost no one had been influenced by the incident. It was a different story for the Americans that had been abroad in Africa during the outbreak, where the problem had not been contained at the zombies had run amok.
Th news would only ever talk of zombie related stories if Americans were involved which meant that it did not happen often, and it was a classic exampled of "out of sight, out of mind", nobody cared about the problem Africa was having.
The only time it had really gotten to me, were when I heard the story of a young American boy from Chicago called Kevin McCallister, who had been killed in Africa, after bravely trying to protect the house he had been staying at, after his family had forgotten him when they had escaped when the incident broke out. Kevin had stayed alive for an exceptionally long time, outsmarting the zombies with homemade traps and weapons, but in the end they had gotten to him, ending his life all too soon. | 2016-10-30T12:13:34 | 2016-10-30T10:43:07 | 707 | 258 |
[Wp] The zombie epidemic came and went in the developed world, most people survived, the military easily defeated the undead horde, and cures for the virus were created. However, zombies remain major issue in the developing and under developed world not getting nearly enough attention on the news.
Wow I didn't think that this prompt would would end up this big. These stories made my night, thanks for all the replies and keep up the good work. | "It'll be $50 grand" said a tiny African man in worn out business suit.
"Excuse me? $50 Grand for what?
"That's for the standard Hunting licenses and fees." said the man, still blankly staring at his computer screen.
"Wait, I'm trying to help your country here. I'm trying to Helllll... P!"
"Yes yes... So are the other hundred or so Americans." he lifts up his head from the screen.
"You American's come here, saying you want to help... But you just want to shoot zombies. Yes?"
I didn't reply...
"We have zombies, you don't... So you come here claiming you want to help, but really, you just want to use that gun of yours. Go Rambo... Be the Terminator?"
"Your people are dying out there, right now!" as I gestured toward... I don't even know where to gesture toward.
"My people are always dying. Disease, wild animals, mosquitos, my government, the rebels.... Even by you, A-Mer-I-Cans... How are these zombies any different? " he said slowly.
"You want to kill? Be my guest. For $50 grand, you can kill as much as you want. Go home, a Hero. A saviour of us poor Africans." he stated as he handed me the forms.
"We'll provide a guide, food, transportation, and even a town for you to 'protect'... Have fun, and please come back."
| Day 95
I've been stuck in the Congo for over three months now. Well I believe so, I've been on the run so long I'm no longer sure where I am or how long its been. Although the rest of the world has seem to gotten over the outbreak, its as if we live on another planet all together. We have only heard rumors of cures to whatever is turning people into these monsters. I was naive to believe that they would try and get all of us students, who were over here on teaching programs out of here. For weeks we had only heard about what was happening from travelers going north in search of aid. Their towns had been overrun, yet we thought these people had just gone mad and were telling stories. Only days later we started to see the truth and the horrors of what these villagers were telling us. It only started off with one casualty that first week, a child from my class just vanished. His poor family had no idea what happened until their son had returned, but it wasn't him just something hosting his body. Luckily the village has a few men dedicated to protect whatever tried to harm the town. There was talk among the villagers on what to do, but by that point it was too late. What seemed like hundereds ran over the village, we tried bringing the children back to the parents, but most of the people had either fled with ought their kids or something much more fatal had happened. By the time I got back to the school, everyone was gone so I fled into the woods and headed north to spread the word. When we got to the next village we had been on zero hours sleep and we had tried warning them. No matter how much I begged them to listen, they just told me to leave the village before they changed their minds. As much as it hurt me to leave those people there, I kept heading north. I had Deja Vu realizing they reacted the same way I did to the "crazy villagers", and now I had to swallow the fact they had to accept the same consequences that I had to. I've been running north ever since, with little idea where I am. Although they don't care about us, I have to persevere out of here to somewhere where they have the resources to help us. Hopefully I can make it... | 2016-10-30T15:52:15 | 2016-10-30T12:24:42 | 198 | 23 |
[WP] In a world where magic can be cast through song, musicians rule over society. You are the last of your kind, a Scandinavian Death Metal Singer. | The Director, an austere man with flinty blue eyes and closely cropped hair steps into the large semicircular meeting hall. The murmur of the gathering silences as he reaches the podium.
“Thank you all for coming.” He looks out into the crowd of allies. “For the sum of human history, man has failed at keeping peace. Diplomacy has time and time again failed, and we have time and time again resorted to the cruel hand of war. But then, ten years ago we discovered the solution through the most unlikely of sources. It turns out that after all this time, the goddamn hippies were the ones who were right. Through the power of music and song we have succeeded in uniting the nations of the world and have enjoyed and unprecedented age of peace. That is, with one exception.”
A map of North America flickers to life on an enormous screen behind the Director. A roughly square region in the Western United States is angry red. “The United Nation of Mormon, formerly Utah, has ever remained a thorn in our side.” The Director continued. “We have exhausted every contingency at our disposal to bring them into the fold. We’ve tried to entice their patriotism with the Country Western-mancers.” a group of denim wearing men in cowboy hats look down in shame, “We’ve tried plying them with riches and prestige with the lyrical incantations of the coven of Hip Hop Lords.” The Director kisses his index and middle fingers, then flashes the peace sign to a group of bejeweled Black guys lounging in their seats. “We’ve even tried driving them away with the wretched magicks of the Techno Union’s Dub Step Wielders, such is our desperation.” An actual robot beeps sadly.
“Those-” The Director’s normally steely voice cracks with emotion, but he quickly masters himself. “Those Mormon bastards just really hate music.” He hangs his head, then looks up resolved. “That is why we must resort to more drastic measures. Diplomacy has failed, and we must once again cast aside our humanity in favor of strength of arms. We will deal with them in fire and death. Are there any objections?” The hall is silent. “So be it.”
The Director produces a key on a lanyard around his neck. He walks to a control panel and places the key inside, turning it. Large letters appear on the enormous screen that read:
WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONTINUE TO RAGNAROK CONTINGENCY?
“May God have mercy on our souls.” The Director whispers to himself, but he knows that their fates are now in the hands of older Gods.
**::**
In the boreal forest of Norway, three young adults wearing black and white corpse paint pose for an album cover.
“Ah ya, now I stand back here and give big middle finger that say ‘faaaaack yoooou’!” Timo says, then sticks his tongue out in a primal growl.
“Good good.” Varg growls nodding his approval. “This vill get True Black Metal back into the hearts of men! Show the FACKING poser gay shits vat true metal is!”
“Yeah! I… vait, do ve vant *more* people listening to us? Or do ve vant less people so that we’re *really* authentic?” Heimdal asks, scratching his black, black hair.
“I vould like to ask this question too.” Timo says, chiming in with a finger raised. “Ve’re out here like… *everyday* filming promotional materials for… *who* exactly?”
“Vat to you mean *who???*” Varg growls. “The fans of True Black Metal!”
“Yeah…” Heimdal continues, unsure, extending a placating hand, “and nobody is more evil than me, let me be clear about that... but it kind of seems like our business model is a little contradictory. Ve vant big record sale… but ve are anarchists… and ve live all the vay out here in your grandfather’s ancestral cabin…”
Varg opens his mouth to answer, but he is interrupted by Rollo bounding from the woods is a great hurry.
“*They have lit the beacon!*” he screams. “*The vorld needs us!*”
Varg gives Heimdal a bestial grin, that he hopes covers his relief. “*You ver saying something, you facking pussy??*” | Simply singing the lyrics is not enough.
You have to be raised in the music, feel it reverberating through your bones for it to work. There's no way another musician can take that power from you. It's a truth they won't accept, that they've forgotten.
"Just agree and we'll take the gag off, Dylan," Holly Star told me, widening her ridiculously made-up blue eyes. *Star*. Pop singers didn't have the imagination God gave a rock.
"Work for us. Help us. Trust me, we don't *want* to kill off the Death Metal line, but we will if you push this."
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the cold wall of my cell. I couldn't do what they wanted even if I agreed. Teach another faction Death Metal magic. I'd never heard anything so stupid.
Star snorted in irritation and flounced off. I was about to doze off when I heard soft footsteps approaching. I opened my eyes a crack to see a pair of brown eyes watching me. A young, flushed face.
"Please, sir," Star's assistant said. I knew that voice. I'd heard her practising, sometimes: she'd chosen the name Ela Queen for herself.
An up-and-coming pop singer, all innocence and hope in her thin voice. She'd never make it, not with that voice. She'd never stand on the frontlines, keeping the masses in hand or facing the other factions in war. But they'd keep her around for that authenticity. Authenticity had a magic of its own.
"Please, help us win and they'll let you go, I'm sure," she whispered through the bars. "Just teach us how to use the Death Metal songs. I...I'd like to hear you sing."
I saw the way that blush crept onto her cheeks. The way she fiddled with her necklace. Fuck, the girl had developed a crush on me. Probably been watching me since my incarceration, constructing all sorts of stories about my past. I bet she'd even fantasised about setting me free. My heart beat fast at the thought, at the possibilities suddenly open to me.
I glanced around. We were alone. I nodded, staring at her, creeping closer to the bars and gesturing towards the tightly wrapped gag with my bound hands.
Her hands trembled as she reached through the bars and untied the gag. She must really have it bad for me. Or just pitied me? Not that it mattered. I was unbound.
"Well, how can I deny a girl who asks so nicely?" I said. "Can you...unlock the cell? We'll go tell them together, ok?"
I heard the heavy footsteps of security around the corner.
"Hurry," I urged her, hoping against hope she was as far gone on me as she looked.
She fumbled with the lock, and it sprang free.
"I always wanted to know more about the Death Metal line. There's so little known about you, about your powers. And why you all died so quickly," she said, babbling with nervousness. "D-did the other factions kill you guys? The Rock musicians, maybe? I always thought it might be the Rock faction. Can you talk to me about it - later?"
"Oh, sure. Sure. Later," I said, grinning at her, and she smiled shyly back.
"But first, how about a song?" I asked, and saw how her eyes widened in shock.
She was younger than I thought, probably still a teenager. Too young to die. But then, so was I, really. I was supposed to have many more years of training, before my family had died.
I let the song rip through me, infusing every word with my intent. Death. Destruction. Repeat, until the words hummed through me. The security guards staggered to their knees as they rounded the corner.
Ela was twitching and bleeding on the floor. But still alive. Still able to hear me.
I paused my song long enough for her to breathe and listen.
"No-one killed us," I said, kneeling down beside her. "We would have eliminated the other factions, if we didn't kill ourselves first. No amount of training is enough to use our music. But hell, we tried. They took me to test it, as we were dying, did you know that? But I think they've forgotten what we can do if we set our minds and tongues to it. Otherwise they'd never have let a failed, pathetic little pop singer have the keys to my cell."
I grinned at the pained expression in her eyes as I stood up, and continued singing, making my way to where the factions would be waiting, delighting in the guttural sounds of my music. I felt the death magic start to worm its way through my veins, but I had a while. I had a while. I did have *some* training before they grabbed me, after all.
Enough time to remind them of what they'd forgotten about our music.
-------
Hope you liked my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | 2016-11-01T12:07:44 | 2016-11-01T12:00:54 | 143 | 105 |
[WP] Fit as many plot twists as you can into one story. | My first born came with the years first rain
Screaming like a whistling steam engine train.
It was only then my wife and I saw
That it wasn't what we were expecting at all.
My baby was black while we are both white
I shouted expletives at my wife out of spite.
*"How dare you! How could you! I thought you were true!
I loved you my dear, but Sue, we are through! "*
"I have to say something, a confession most dire.
I'm a fraud, a phony, a fake and a liar.
This confession is truly disgusting and sick.
But my love I'm afraid that I do have a dick."
Taken aback I looked at my wife.
This woman who I chose as the love of my life.
*"I have a confession as well, I've been terribly rude*
*But Sue I must tell you that I'm not a dude. "*
My wife, or my husband, I don't really know
Was surprised which is understood I suppose.
How was it born? Where is it from?
I really hope it did not come from her bum.
Afraid and abashed I started to cry
"am I gay? Am I straight? I must be into guys. "
During my existential crisis of sorts
My child began to change, twist, and contort.
It resembled a child no more than spaghetti
With arms like noodles and claws at the ready.
Wait claws?! What the hell is happening here?!
My child's a demon, a monster I fear!
I started to run out of the dark damned hospital
When my feet lost their footing and I began to spiral.
I was out of control, flying out into space
When the monster was caught on my untied shoe lace.
I floated there staring at the earth for some time,
my thoughts started turning to feelings divine.
I turned to the monster to witness my fate
Only to see the whole beast dissipate.
As I floated alone in the vast void of time
My body became nothing more than a slime.
Traveling quickly through the universe now
Passing sun after sun, burning and turning more brown,
I saw everything as I knew it should be,
And I saw that truly everything was me.
As I reached what I could only call the end,
I grew ever smaller limbs starting to bend.
I cried and I screamed, a cacophonous moan
Undulating for innumerable eternities alone.
I saw through the void of eternal damnation
A light! A hole I was just able to squeeze in.
A tight fit, so painful, I could barely see
As I fell through the hole, someone caught onto me.
I came into the world with the years first rain
Screaming like a whistling steam engine train. | One day Plotty McTwist decided to defy his parents and run away from home. He stepped out on the porch with a sack on his shoulder and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and stepped onto the sidewalk. Just as his foot stepped down on the pavement, the entire world around him appeared to glitch. Plotty simply thought to himself, "oh the frame rate is running a little behind today". You see, Plotty has been stuck inside a simulation for years. The simulation was to test whether or not Plotty would run away from home, but for some reason the sim-runners never took him out. He has gotten used to the same thing every day. He walks outside the house, starts to run, hears his parents yell his name, then he just restarts back at his house. He couldn't change the cycle however because there was this instinctive need for him to run away. But today Plotty had had enough. Just as he started to run away he saw that same navy blue car that he had seen for the past 6 months start to come down the street. He quickly took a sharp left and stopped right on the edge of the road. The car got closer, closer, and then it was 10 feet away from where Plotty was standing. Plotty then jumped.
He was flung from the car lifeless and hit a tree. His head began to spill blood like a carton of milk that had been tipped over. His vision was fading, the edges of his vision were beginning to crystallize, almost as if reality itself was shattering, but this was not a hallucination. The world turned black and everything was gone. James then woke up. James tugged at the memory cords connecting him from the lifeless body of Plotty McTwist. James was trying to figure out how this boy ended up in a well run simulation that allowed him to die. It seemed that that technology would be next to impossible to acquire, especially during world war 17.
James needed to clear his mind from the puzzling thoughts so he went outside where what was left of New York City huddled around a Jumbotron in Times Square. The blackness of the screen quickly turned to King Trumps face.
"Ladies and gentleman! I know this is some hard times we are going through, but we need to stay strong when fighting against NATO," the king said
"I will be forced to enlist another quarter of the population that voted democratic in the army. Believe me though, this is not what I wanted just what WE needed." The screen went black once again and screams and worried cries erupted over the crowd. Everyone knew that fighting in this war was surely a suicidal mission and no one was spared from the enlisting. Kids starting at 13 were being enlisted in a war that the people did not want. James had a family, they were all sick. His son, his wife, and his daughter had all caught the super Ebola virus and he needed to take care of them. He rushed back into the house to check on them but what he saw was a sight that would turn the most stoic man into a slobbering, sobbing mess. Death reeked in the air. A wave of hopelessness rushed over james and without changing expression he went into his closet where a noose was already hanging from the pipes. There was a chair there and everything. Without even blinking he stepped up on the chair and swung the noose around his neck like an expensive necklace. He kicked the chair and felt a release from deep inside his body. The world went black and Sarah then woke up. | 2016-11-27T11:29:09 | 2016-11-27T08:27:03 | 87 | 21 |
[WP] Fit as many plot twists as you can into one story. | I took a piece of ribbon, and uncapped my sharpie. On the green fabric I wrote the word "plot", in my messy handwriting. Then I took one end of the ribbon and tied it to the nearest fencepost. The other end I affixed to the crankshaft of the V8 engine I had sitting in my backyard. I revved the motor, and the ribbon twisted itself over and over again, too fast to count. | The Grand High Weaver, Spinner of Threads, Architect of Fates looked in disbelief at the tangled, twisted mess on the floor before him.
"What do you mean you dropped it!?" He demanded of his acolyte, a lesser nephalem who managed only a whimper in response.
"Do you have any idea of the effects that this will have? An entire year, ruined! What kind of *idiot* are you to be so careless? This is the narrative of the universe itself!"
He spun to face the nepahlem and found her weeping, huddled into a ball, her many wings quivering as she sobbed. His rage dwindled and he let out a long sigh.
"Ahh, don't worry about it lass" he muttered, "we all make mistakes from time to time. We're only divine after all".
She raised her gaze at that, wide, tear-filled eyes meeting his.
"Go and put it with the others" he gestured, "I'll see if I can salvage things for 2017". | 2016-11-27T11:38:29 | 2016-11-27T11:08:21 | 42 | 25 |
[WP] Fit as many plot twists as you can into one story. | Harry: "Screw you, dad!"
Michael: "I'm sorry, Harry, I can't lie anymore. I'm not your dad."
Harry: "Oh my god, how could you do this to me and Jamie?! Why didn't you tell us?"
Michael: "Your dad told me not too."
Harry: "Who is it? Who's my dad?"
Michael: "Your mom. Your mom is your dad."
Harry: "W... what?"
Michael: "Your mom is your dad. And ... I'm your mom..."
Harry: "I'm so confused. What are you trying to say?"
Michael: "Oh also, Jamie isn't your brother. He's an alien."
Harry: "He's an alien?"
Michael: "Yes. And you're a dog so stop whining."
Harry: "Woof!"
The end | James was sitting in his 3rd hour biology class talking to his crush, Jessica.
All of the sudden, James felt something overcome his body
"Oh no" James shrieked as he sat in his sweat covered chair
He felt a hot luscious liquid trying to escape from his rectal gates
He got up and made a mad dash for the door, but it was too late
The floodgates had opened and diarrhea violently spewed out of the ends of his jeans
He stood there frozen, in shock, as the class stared him in the eyes
Slowly, each classmate got up and started to clap. Soon, the entire classroom was roaring with excitement, frantically clapping and cheering James on
His crush, Jessica, sprinted to James and tackled him to the floor
They immediately started to fornicate on the shit covered floor.
Their biology teacher, Al Sharpton, quickly got out his 1997 Sony camcorder and started recording the fecal fornication.
He was in the middle if climaxing when he heard something strange
"James" "JAMES!"
James awoke in a fiery sweat
He looked above and saw a black and white silhouette
It was a NFL referee. He had gone unconscious on the 27 yard line in the middle of a Sam Diego Chargers football game from a helmet to helmet hit.
Jessica was no where to be found and James was disappointed to find out the best day of his life was only a dream.
Regardless of his sadness, he had to get up and do the only thing that was right, play football.
James is Phillip Rivers. | 2016-11-27T12:34:41 | 2016-11-27T10:55:05 | 36 | 10 |
[WP] "Genetic Designer Babies" are commonplace, but parents only have so many "stat points" to allocate between your different physical and mental abilities. Your parents dumped all your stat points into one thing. | Surprisingly, it had never been done before. I'm talking of course about my stat distribution:
Speed-0
Strength-0
Sight-0
Longevity-0
Intelligence-0
Nicolas Cage Impersonation Skills-100
They call me Nicolas for a reason. When I was born I was plump and good looking if I should say so myself. Fortunately, Nicolas Cage Impersonation became a sport of which I always won. I also became so good at impersonating Nicolas Cage that I took his job and life.
I am Nicolas Cage. | My family wasn't rich, they weren't poor but they certain wasn't rich, they were a typical four point family living in a four to six point neighbourhood and quite comfortable, the house was bought, the garden was tended for and the ease of life flowed through these streets.
To be born in these circumstances would be considered quite lucky and it was if it wasn't for my parents decision. They where quite humble folk, the type of people you could tell were quiet from afar so I suppose that's why they did what they did without thinking of the consequences.
A phase I'll never have to repeat to anyone, They call it "Enhanced Vocal Extremities". My parents call it "a gift", my teachers call it "a nuisance", the bullies call it "the Loud mouth Giant" , the girl I like calls it "terrifying" but my friends call it cool.
Nothing I say is private, I often keep thoughts to myself, I had been attending whispering class for over 15 years much to the request of our neighbour...hood. The full effects hadn't arose as a baby but that still didn't stop it being over ten times louder which resulting in soundproofing the house and ear protectors by our front door for guests.
| 2016-12-13T14:40:13 | 2016-12-13T11:55:25 | 34 | 17 |
[WP] You arrive in the year 1000, and all you have are the clothes on your back, a laptop with the entire Wikipedia library, and a solar charger. | My head is still pounding from the journey and my vision is barely returning to normal. Contrary to what my fellow researches think, actual time travel highly increases the level of blood pressure in one's body. That's why no other time traveler came back: they all had the knowledge to rebuild the machine, but they all arrived dead. Who's the fool now, Robert, you cheeky cunt? Luckily, the lisionpril tablets did their job and my heart didn't explode.
I have set the machine to send me to the year 1000, more precisely, 7th of September, 11:46 AM. By the looks of it, the air temperature relative to the supposed time of the year matches my calculations exactly: I'm somewhere in Central Europe and considering my margin of error of 56.14(12) hours, I should still be in early September.
I'll never return to my timeline. Why would I? I have over 5 million articles containing raw data and the technical expertise to build any electrical device I need. I will rule this world from my ivory tower, built from the blood of those who shall oppose me. But for now, time to travel to the capital of the Holy Roman Empire. Rome was not built in a day, it's true. But under my command, it will never fall.
Shall I continue?
P.S: I heard my english is a little bad, which is true as it's like my third language. I will continue this tonight! | I should have prepared more. I didn't though it will work on the first run. And the return mechanism is not ready yet - and never will be now. I do have most of the required knowledge and a good memory of my own plans but even with all that knowledge I'll never be able manufacture, or in that manner, create the machinery to manufacture the delicate and microscopic components of the machine. Not in my life time.
But first I need to ensure the safety of the laptop. I could dig a hole and hide it but the ground is damp and I don't have plastic bags. And it could rain any time.
Anyone interested in part 2?
Edit: Part 2
I'll just hide it under the coat. Damn! My clothes! I don't want to draw attention.. Think think.. Dirt. I'll pretend as a beggar. First I need to get rid of the shoes. I'll dig here.. Shoes are gone, hope nobody ever find them. Now let's get dirty.. Ok but something is missing.. I need to wear the clothes. I'll rub it with this rock. A little hole here and a little rub there. Looking good. Were there socks in that time? Let's check.. There were but not machine knitted and definitely not for beggar status. Off they go.
I'm walking 10 minutes and my feet are already hurt. I'll just rip the bottom part of the coat and wrap it around feet.. It still hurts but a little less.
Ok. I can see the village. I hope the people are nice. But what should I do? I need shelter but I don't have any money. It's probably some silver and gold coins. Lets see... Silver and Cooper also. Wait a minute!!! The silver mine 10 kilometers to the South. When did they found it? Lets see... They found the first nugget only 200 years from now. That is great! I can later go there and look for some nuggets to get me started. For now I'll try to find some shelter and food in exchange for some work they might have for me.
To be continued? | 2016-12-27T15:51:49 | 2016-12-27T12:31:19 | 85 | 21 |
[WP] After being murdered suddenly one day, your consciousness follows your "killcam" in the 24 hours leading up to your death from the perspective of your killer. | "Have a nice day," A young woman gave one last quick smile to my killer before turning her gaze to the customer behind them. A mundane scene played out before me as I lay in a pool of my own blood, the hectic sounds of sirens almost inaudible. My killer grabbed her coffee and doughnut as she headed out into the summer sunshine. She was young, walking with a bounce in her step as she nibbled her morning treat. The city bustled around her as she slid into the front seat of a sleek black car, the engine purring to life as she turned the key and she pulled out of her spot. I recognized all the turns she made as she drove, I had driven them myself a hundred times, but the familiar streets dropped to her peripheral as she lifted a thin cell phone. I saw her face as took selfie after selfie posing with her coffee, she was easy on the eyes and playfully naive, but in an instance everything stopped. A loud crash startled her, she slammed on the breaks, her phone dropped to the floor, coffee spilled everywhere and I watched my body slide off the hood of her car to the ground. It took a moment for anything to sink in; she sat silent in her car until other pedestrians started yelling at her to call 911. She started to hyperventilate as she opened the door and all but crumpled onto the pavement. Then black, I was just me again and the last rasping breath trickled from my collapsed lungs and I was gone. | Crunch. A pair of scuffed up loafers stepped the broken glass scattered on the floor. The owner of those shoes took another step in the dingy bungalow. He stepped toward the window, taking in the view of the bright city, so full of life, illuminating the room from miles away. With a calloused hand, one fingernail cracked recently, the man reached into his dusty jacket. His hand reappeared, holding an amalgamation of circuit board and metal, as if holding a new born animal. He turned it over. Fixing his gaze over the switch, the man’s breath paused for a moment involuntarily, transfixed by the sight of the simple metal switch beneath a plastic cover. His hand trembled. He cautiously reached out to the cover, feeling its contours and caressing the plastic, warm from being carried in the inner folds of his coat. Shaking with indecisiveness, the man set the switch down on the window sill, sat down with his back to the wall, and lit up a cigarette. He took a long drag and let himself be calmed by the nicotine flowing through his veins. Reaching above his shoulder, he took down the switch and looked at it with renewed courage. Yet there is still a splinter of doubt in his mind, sharp with the implications. He took another drag of the cigarette. The doubt didn’t budge. With a sharp cry of frustration, the man threw the switch against the wall with the force of an angry coward. He was angry with himself, with his own indecisiveness. He never thought it would be this hard, after all the planning, the put in motion something far bigger than himself. Reminding himself of his purpose, the man’s resolve hardened. No longer needing the cigarette, the man stubbed it out on the dusty floor. Something changed in his face. There is no more trembling lips or eyes that were on the verge of tears. This is the face of a determined man; the features stiff as a chiseled marble. He walked briskly over to the fallen switch and flipped it up. Leaving no more room for doubt, he lifted up the cover and flipped the switch. The light from the city flashed suddenly, then darkened, fading out existence. | 2017-04-22T02:34:22 | 2017-04-21T20:42:59 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] After inventing a time portal for photons, you connect it to your fiber optic internet cable. Immediately, an email arrives in your inbox... from you in the future. | Subject: Dude you have got to read this
Body: The winning lottery numbers are 16, 42... Ha, we both know the lottery ended years ago. I always wondered how I'd react to that. As it turns out you are not the first to figure this trick out.
K. First things first. Stop drooling over Samantha, what she has up stairs is totally fake. Her mom bought them last year for her bday. And the show she puts on is also fake. Now Brittney on the other hand MEEEOOOWW. She doesn't look it now, but just you wait.
I forgot. The attachment is all of the test answers for your senior year. You know how mom is. She saves everything. I hope everything comes out ok because there was a file size limit for attachments.
Later,
Yourself
| *This is a test*
*As directed, precisely fifteen minutes after receiving this email via Photon Temporal Anomaly I forwarded this message to myself and turned off the portal.*
*Original message below*
*This is a test*
*As directed, precisely fifteen minutes after receiving this email via Photon Temporal Anomaly I forwarded this message to myself and tuned off the portal.*
*Original message below...*
The email repeated seven hundred times, until ending in an error message. Bonnie looked, dumfounded, at the computer and turned to Doctor Clarke.
"Sir, it's working... or will work, I don't know. I think we are creating a stable time loop."
"I think you're right." The old physicist said, grinning from ear to ear.
"What do we do, then?"
"Follow the instructions. We've already learned a lot from this experiment. One: that information is not bound by the laws of thermodynamics, Two: information cannot be sent before the initial creation point of a portal, and Three: information compounds in a time loop. Best not to press our luck now."
Bonnie shook her head in agreement. Knowing this much, including that time travel was possible at the subatomic level, was quite enough for now. They had time for more experiments later. Potentially, they now had infinitely more time.
She copied the text, and waited for the timestamp to match actual time. She hit send, then they powered down the Anomaly. Both knew the world had just permanently changed.
| 2017-05-02T09:16:28 | 2017-05-02T09:10:40 | 34 | 13 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | "You must save the world from....The Darkness.", the old man said. What the hell is The Darkness? Jeezus. I just came into the bar to get a damn drink and this old guy, who looks like 100 or something, shows up beside me. "Dude, are you off your meds or something?" The old guy blinked, "No, I have no need for your Mortal Medication, I am..." "High as hell?", I scoffed.
"Right, later. Stay out the gutter, pal" I gave him a $50, paid for my drink and left.
Turns out the world WAS ending because of the so-called 'Darkness'. Shit. Not my problem.
| Once again I awaken. It has been a long time since I have last walked the land but I must always slumber or there will be no land to walk.
The ground is frail, as always. The crust was not made to hold a weight like mine. I stand from the green light-feeding life that has grown to entomb me . I tear the forest appart with my every step, the ground itself is flung across the sky as my feet are raised, the earth behind me collapse in my shadow.
The mighty sun becomes visible as I walk, no longer hidden behind the far away land.
Mankind has changed much during my slumber. I can see them in machines
speeding through the sky. I can feel it through their newly made weapon trying to pierce my skin as I approche the city below.
I shall do as I always do. I will see all there is to see before my new slumber begins. I walk through their city, stone, metal, blood and gore fly with my every step.
Few things in the land survive to tell my tale but maybe Mankind will survive
again. They are, after all, the first to survive twice. They have clever minds, they do not disperse and lose their mate, they group up and reproduce even when there is no land to share, I will see them again.
| 2017-05-05T07:05:07 | 2017-05-05T05:28:24 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] You are the super villain that defeated the super hero and conquered the earth. You walk out onto your balcony to law down the law for your new subjects. You are greeted by a massive crowd and genuine cheers. | Those pathetic humies had barely touched the stars when my empire collided and absorbed them into the fold of my dominion.
I destroyed their paltry fleet myself, my armies met little resistance on the ground, their government weak and corrupt...
They will pay for their foolishness as I work them to the bone as nothing more than chattel slavery.
"People of earth! You are now subjects of my star empire, you will work and produce for the glory of my kingdom, you will work for "45%" of your solar cycles in your adult age" *I hope the federated authority don't get wind of this, the most your able to force is 40%*
'To ensure each of my new subjects are productive, you may no longer stave your fellow man!' *gargantuan trade ships appear behind the emperor carrying a planets worth of food*
There are planets with in my realm that are ill suited to my species, you will claim and populate these planets in my name' *flyers start getting handed out to encourage breeding and starting a family in order to get a large enough population to start the task for colonizing another world*
As subjects of the empire you will be taken care of in every way to ensure you are productive, our advanced medicine shall ensure you are a positive impact on the empire. However filth such as yourself has no place at the front line of the hive trashers, that is a war only my glorious people have the honour of winning. *The hive thrasher war was taking its toll on humanity, everyone had lost someone to those insects...*
Strange the emperor thought as he walked down the hallway, their shrieking and lamenting reminds him of celebration chants from other cultures...
EDIT: Grammar and spelling. | His knuckles were bruised, shaking. Bare bone was exposed under the tattered skin and gashes that covered both hands. At his feet was his rival, his friend, his enemy, his confidant. His equal.
The pool of blood inched closer and closer to Apex's feet, until he stepped back at the sight of himself in the red mirror on the floor. Apex, or rather, Douglas, approached Hollis' body and lifted it out of the grisly pool, stroking his hair away from his face and cleaning streaks of blood off of Hollis' forehead.
"I had wished you would be the one to kill me. Seven long years of fighting after hundreds of years of searching. This was meant to be my end, and you would deny me once more?" Douglas carried Hollis' body out of the cabin and past the treeline into the brush, stopping next to a young birch tree, the white bark in stark contrast to the dull browns and vibrant greens that surrounded it. Douglas let Hollis down gently, then began preparing a small gravesite. His hands twisted in the air and the world bent around him. The smallest bushes grew like wildfire, the vines and leaves twisting themselves into ornate patterns, surrounding Hollis in scenes from his life as a hero and as a human. Flowers intertwined themselves into the knots of the coffin, speckling it in reds, yellows, and white. A second wave of his hand and the ground opened to swallow the coffin, only it was stopped just before the ground could take it. Douglas touched the birch tree deftly and it grew. Branches split and folded into themselves while the trunk grew taller and wider, and once the sound of cracking wood had died down the birch stood as a simple monument, an arch that read "Hollis Danton, the last hero."
Douglas waved his hand a final time and the woods around his cabin quieted. The door stuck slightly when Douglas tried to open it, some of Hollis' blood had dried under it. The bucket and mop made for slow work of the mess that he'd made with Hollis, but Douglas was glad to be kept busy. The TV droned on about the issues that would be solved by regulating and monitoring those that develop or are given powers, but he was more than glad to be left alone. | 2017-05-23T14:23:28 | 2017-05-23T10:56:07 | 62 | 22 |
[WP] You are the super villain that defeated the super hero and conquered the earth. You walk out onto your balcony to law down the law for your new subjects. You are greeted by a massive crowd and genuine cheers. | Those pathetic humies had barely touched the stars when my empire collided and absorbed them into the fold of my dominion.
I destroyed their paltry fleet myself, my armies met little resistance on the ground, their government weak and corrupt...
They will pay for their foolishness as I work them to the bone as nothing more than chattel slavery.
"People of earth! You are now subjects of my star empire, you will work and produce for the glory of my kingdom, you will work for "45%" of your solar cycles in your adult age" *I hope the federated authority don't get wind of this, the most your able to force is 40%*
'To ensure each of my new subjects are productive, you may no longer stave your fellow man!' *gargantuan trade ships appear behind the emperor carrying a planets worth of food*
There are planets with in my realm that are ill suited to my species, you will claim and populate these planets in my name' *flyers start getting handed out to encourage breeding and starting a family in order to get a large enough population to start the task for colonizing another world*
As subjects of the empire you will be taken care of in every way to ensure you are productive, our advanced medicine shall ensure you are a positive impact on the empire. However filth such as yourself has no place at the front line of the hive trashers, that is a war only my glorious people have the honour of winning. *The hive thrasher war was taking its toll on humanity, everyone had lost someone to those insects...*
Strange the emperor thought as he walked down the hallway, their shrieking and lamenting reminds him of celebration chants from other cultures...
EDIT: Grammar and spelling. | I didn't choose to be a super-villian. I chose to be a villian, sure. I had grey morals to begin with. The sudden advancement of power, gave me temptation. The pain and mental torture warped my perspective but the final straw for my step into villianness? Villain hood? Anger. I would love to start at the beginning but there's no time. I just talk to myself like this to keep myself sane, it took a while to get back here, I'd like to keep it. When I'm angry, I get shit done. But its destructive, direct, no subtly, etc. To make me this mad, this maddening madness, requires a lot. It wasn't pain or suffering that caused it, well not directly. It was knowledge.
I control minds. I do other things too, read, warp, control, etc. I raped and killed. I controlled and destroyed. I layed down my version of justice, I started a revolution, secretly took over foreign governments, I lost my very mind and I can honestly, thankfully, say it wasn't my fault. I opened my mind up and found hell. The suffering of the entire world filled my mind and broke me. It takes a lot to break me. Few thousand to be exact. So much pain. Given, I probably would have still done "evil" and broken laws but never like this. Never on this scale.
They did everything they could to stop me but I was too smart, I had the intelligence of a hive mind, the influence, the power and I used it. So they created someone who couldn't be controlled, amped him up and sent him after me like a dog. Had a very interesting set of powers but so do I. They were a gift. I didn't kill the hero, but I did trap them. No mind is safe from mine, not anymore. Trapped, in his own head, forever.
As I walk out, crowds, cheers, massive delights. I suppose, afterall, I have trapped most of the world inside their own heads. A shame. I will free them, not soon, but I shall. Stepping out of darkness and into the light is difficult and sometimes it requires getting bloody. But I will free these slaves I have created. Most of them at least. I'll keep 1 or 2 for my own purposes.
After all, my morals are gray. | 2017-05-23T14:23:28 | 2017-05-23T10:33:06 | 62 | 21 |
[WP] Write the happiest story you can think of and completely destroy the atmosphere with a plot twist in the final sentence. | I never thought heaven would be like this– it's strange, really. Glorious, but strange. Like listening to a song so good you never thought it could have existed. I expected something completely different. You see, I was raised a Catholic, and a good one at that, and had always imagined heaven to he something like a giant golden city on a new and glorious earth. I hadn't really thought about it that much, to be honest.
I died about 2 weeks ago in a car accident along with three of my friends from high school. We were just getting back from a track meet when we got T-boned by a semi on the intersection of Janus Road and 125. Not very pleasant, I know. They weren't raised good Catholics, so I'm not surprised they're not here with me. In all honesty I never liked them very much. Still, who knows what hell is like with heaven being this different?
If you've wondered about the transition from life to the afterlife, let me describe it to you the best I can– after the accident, things went dark. I'm not clear on my theology but maybe this is the part where I wait for Jesus to come back along with all the other dead people on earth? Or maybe it's just an intermediary stage? Something everybody gets?
I woke up looking at something like the sun– a huge, distant circle of white light suspended in a dark sky. The air crackled around me. I couldn't move a muscle as a buzzing sound drew me to the light. I genuinely hoped heaven was clearer, I really couldn't see much. But my fears were calmed.
Next thing I knew, I was in a silky white room, pure white, like the most beautiful pearl you'e ever seen. The walls were softer than baby skin. A glorious sound, like a distant choir, rang throughout it– and I was filled with the most powerful joy I had ever felt in my life. It flowed through me like a new kind of blood.
Time became irrelevant. This joy was incomprehensible. For those of you still bound to the earth, heaven is– indescribably joyful and wonderful.
Sometimes, an angel (majestic creatures, like illuminated supermodels garbed in the most delicate of sky blue) would come to show me visions of my family back alive. They were struggling, crying. I could see my mother and my father, arm in arm, mourning my loss. They even spoke to me.
But I had the most glorious news for them– heaven was only a few years away, and trust me, it was well worth the wait.
—
Found written on the walls of Room 218, Byron T. McMannis Long-Term Care Facility and Psychiatric Facility, June 8th, 2007.
Patient reverted into catatonic state after 20 days of confinement. Life support pulled June 21st, 2007 at request of legal guardianship of patient, Harry Silvers.
Patient experienced catastrophic brain damage per a car accident on May 3rd, 2007. Surgery unsuccessful.
| Stained windows, check. Blue roses, check. Orange lighting, check. Bare-backed white dress, check. Perfectly curled hair, check. James, check.
I smile. These were all I ever wanted the moment I fell in love with him. It was a stormy Sunday afternoon in his room.
"James, we have talked about this before. You want children so much. How could I expect you to give that up? But it just isn't what I want."
"What are you saying?"
"I just think it is inevitable. Someday, maybe. Or maybe we will work something out in the future. But for now...," I dove into his embrace.
James pulled away from me, caressing my right cheek. "Never bring that up again." His voice was firm but gentle. "I've thought a lot since the last time we talked about it. Let's not have children then. But never talk like that again, never, you hear me? It breaks my heart just thinking about it."
I melted right there and then. Like an ice cube in a ball of fire.
I fell in love right there and then. Like tipping over the edge of a cliff I have hovered over for weeks.
I bite my lower lip to keep myself from smiling like an idiot. Looking around, I spot the love of my life, over at the end of the aisle.
His brown hair is combed back, just the way I like it. He puts his hands behind. I feel his nervousness as he smooths his shirt. He starts tapping his left foot. He always does this when he gets anxious.
*Eight, nine, ten.* His ten seconds are up.
He looks more dashing than ever in that black tux. The black tux I picked out for him. I bite my lip again, as I open my eyes as wide as I can, holding back the imminent tears.
"Kate. For three years, you have brought me on a great adventure. I fell in love with you, I started feeling emotions more strongly than I ever thought I was capable of, I ate grasshoppers in Thailand, I went on impromptu road trips, I took a leap and started my own company, I got on a plane to satisfy food cravings. Your spontaneity is your greatest gift, and you, are mine."
That same firm yet gentle voice. My vision blurred.
"James. I love saying your name. Thank you, for going on adventures with me. You make them that much more thrilling, that much more audacious, that much more inspiring. Please always let me take you on wild rides. To places all over, and to places in our minds. I love you."
"James, do you take Kate to be your wife? Do you promise to be faithful to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and to honor her all the days of your life?"
"I do."
His eyes are sparkling with tenderness.
"Kate, do you take James to be your husband? Do you promise to be faithful to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and to honor him all the days of your life?"
"I do."
My tears are falling like Niagara. *How ugly I must look.*
I remove my headworn mic and turn towards the nearest exit.
*I should make this quick, there are still guests I have to usher to the reception.*
Stepping into the church again, everyone is standing, eyes on the beautiful couple.
*Reception, reception,* I remind myself, as I sweep my eyes across the crowd. *There he is, little James Jr. My best gift.*
| 2017-05-25T05:14:49 | 2017-05-25T01:09:41 | 523 | 82 |
[WP] You have a guardian-demon. Unlike his angelic counterparts, his methods are more straightforward and brutal, but infinitely more effective. He really wants to see you succeed | It was at its worst when I was little.
It would start with small things. Coincidences. Things you couldn't possibly blame on a kid. I didn't get invited to the cool kid's birthday party, and his party was cancelled when his entire family got the stomach flu. The mean girl in class laughed at the dorky haircut my mom made me get, and she somehow got gum stuck in her hair during lunch.
Actually, it was the gum that started it. The stigma. When Cindy showed up for school the next day sporting hair only slightly longer than a buzz-cut, I couldn't help but laugh. Cindy, of course, ran crying to the teacher, insisting that it must have been my fault. That she saw me chewing gum.
The teacher shooed her away - I was a good kid, really, and Cindy's story was hardly credible, given that I had a mouthful of braces at the time and wouldn't be caught dead chewing gum - but it didn't matter. Cindy was popular. She had pre-teen hierarchy. She had the authority to sic her followers on me.
So that was where it started. A kid would try to trip me in the hallway, and somehow they'd end up hitting the ground instead with a mouthful of blood. A kid would try to break into my locker, only to find that their own stuff had mysteriously disappeared from their own locker.
It became too much for my teachers to ignore. I was labeled 'troubled'. Letters got sent home. Parent teacher conferences were arranged.
"Samantha is a good student, but..."
"Samantha seems to be having trouble with her classmates..."
"Is everything okay at home?"
My parents wanted desperately to believe me. They never once accused me of doing the things that people thought I did. They would ask me, of course - in hushed tones, with hands clutched at their chests - but they accepted my protests with loving nods and weak smiles. It was only at night when they thought I was asleep that I heard the murmurs of 'therapy' and 'medication' passed between them.
So I knew that telling them about Azel would just make things worse.
"People call me 'Carrie', now, you know," I told him one night. It had been a particularly bad day: someone had called me a freak after I'd accidentally spilled some of my food on my lap during lunch. They'd ended up falling down immediately after, their entire tray of food landing perfectly on their head.
"I don't get the reference," he said - but I heard the amusement in his voice. As there always was.
Azel had made himself known to me shortly after I turned fourteen. Things were *bad* - the worst they'd been - and a brief flicker of *suicide* had crossed my mind. And just like that, there he was.
"I'm supposed to be helping you!" he'd said in panic. His eyes were kind, red and beady as they were. "This isn't easy, you know!"
I knew he was trying. I knew that he wanted to help me. That the kids I knew were all miserable people to start with.
Really, Azel was the best friend I could have asked for. Even if it was his fault that I was a pariah.
"Don't you ever think about taking a different approach? I feel like your early work was better. Far more subtle, anyway."
"Where would the fun be in that? Tell me you didn't love seeing Karen's face covered in grey mashed potatoes."
I couldn't help smiling. "It's not that, it's just - sometimes you have to pretend, you know? Pretend to be normal."
"And where would the fun be in that," he repeated.
And in the dark, with my only friend - the only person looking out for me - I couldn't help but feel that he was right.
| Anthony anxiously peered down at his watch as he rushed out the door, 2:36 pm. "No, no, nooo!" he said, he picked up his pace and rushed to his car, as his breath became more exasperated and sweat built up on his face.
He slammed his car door shut and reached for the ignition with his keys. "Shit, wrong side." he said as got out of the car and repeated the process of getting into his car on the drivers side.
Anthony fumbled his keys into the ignition and turned the keys, only to hear the disappointing sound of his car refuse to start. "Noooo, no, nuhoooo" he whined as he gave up, putting his head on the wheel.
He might as well be fired right now. If he didn't make that flight, he was going to be days late to the Dolinger Industries orientation. All that time, money, and schooling wasted on securing this job. He sighed, and proceeded further into hopelessness. It was gonna take a miracle to get on that flight on time.
He felt his car door violently tear off. He turned to see a huge black man in a suit throw his car door into his neighbors house.
He looked in shock for a second at the damage that had just occured, only to be interrupted by the man in the suit hauling him out if the car and raising Anthony to meet his deep red eyes, leaving Anthony's feet to dangle in the air.
"Time." The being demanded, in a low rumbling voice, shaking the air around them. "Wha- What?" Anthony managed, dumb-founded. "Time, Mr.Volgin!" he shouted as he violently grabbed Anthony's left hand. "Ahh, ahh, ow" Anthony protested under the beings incredibly strong grip.
"2:38" The being said, quickly dropping Anthony. Anthony layed there dazed until he started being dragged by the colkar of his shirt to his neighbor's house, he could hear his car skid into the driveway. The man let go of Anthony and strode to the neighbor's car.
"Why the hell is your car door in my house!" He yelled as he emerged from his car. "You better have some godamn answers Anthony, I'm suing the hell out of you hear, and who the hell are-" Anthony heard the faint sound of his neighbor struggling to breathe. He raised his head to see the man brutally choking his neighbor.
Anthony quickly got up and ran over to stop him. He was just behind the man as he heard the splat. He looked over horrified to see his neighbor's head blown clean off his head. He looked to the being and saw his eyes radiating.
"What the hell are you!" he yelled. The being stood up and grabbed Anthony by the collar of his shirt, lifting him into the air. "I am Xi'ath, enemy of heaven, consumer of souls, obliterator of flesh, exploiter of good, and your guardian. You needed me." and with that, threw him into the car.
"What are you talking about!" he shouted. Xi'ath ignored him and began to buckle his seatbelt. He then started the car.
"The airport!" Xi'ath shouted, "WHERE!" Anthony was beginning to understand. He responded in a shaky voice, "Um, uh, if you take a left at oaken leaf ave, and follow it down you'll want to take a right at-" "TOO LONG!" Xi'ath interuppted and slammed on the accelerator, going right through the recently deceased neighbor's house.
_____
It was 3:04 when they got to the airport. Anthony sat dazed in the car, or what was left of it. He winced at the glass shards stuck in his arm after the 12th elmentary kid broke the windshield as she smacked against the car with her whole body at 120 mph.
"We're here." Xi'ath said triumphantly, hauling some poor elementary students corpse off the dashboard. Anthony wiped guts off his face. Xi'ath tore off a back pack from one of the bodies, found a tissue in it, and handed it to him.
"Wh- why the schools?" Anthony mumbled. "The most efficient way to get from point a to point b is straight across." Xi'ath replied.
Anthony glanced at him one more time, and slowly stumbled out the car to his flight. He glanced at his watch: '3:05pm TUES'
He thought it was Wednesday.
| 2017-06-02T13:16:55 | 2017-06-02T12:00:54 | 96 | 41 |
[WP] Symbols have starting appearing on people around the world, symbols representing seven deadly sins and seven holy virtues, granting the person powers of Heaven or Hell. The bigger the symbol the bigger the sin or virtue. Your symbol is a sin, and in wraps around your entire body. | It was a mad world. There was no way to predict how people would use their powers. Some of "sinners" were using their powers to make the world a better place. Some of the "pious" were basically super-villains. The problem was that none of the sinners had very large Marks. It had taken thousands of the gluttonous to solve world hunger, but just a small handful of the diligent had overthrown the US government. The humble were quietly fighting to keep peace, there were rumors that the most powerful of all of us were humble who had become invisible in order to avoid garnering praise. My Mark had been slowly growing all along and I watched today as it crept over the last few uncovered inches of my body. I looked at my fingers in slight awe as I felt a change in the world. I believe that I had just become all powerful. I could conquer the world. Not even the mighty patient would be able to stand before me. I rose from my futon slowly, realizing that I no longer even had to walk for I could simply hover above the ground and float to my destination. I went to the fridge and got another can of Mountain Dew. I would conquer the world tomorrow maybe. I'd decide after another nap. | Ira. Wrath.
That is my Sin, my Mark.
The twin dragons wrapped around my body. Their tails started at my feet, and each coiled up my legs, their bodies around my torso, wrapped together as if lovers or locked in combat, even I couldn't tell. Their long necks wrapped around each of my arms, and their heads were on my palms.
And I would soon be at the Head of this world.
"Ira," the man on he throne said.
"Auriel," I responded, and made my way up the steps of the stairway, my feet leaving blood marks on the white marble.
Auriel stood, wearing only pants and no shirt, showing his rippling muscles. There were no tattoos visible on his body, but when he stood up, golden wings erupted from his back, casting the throne room in a brilliant glow.
"Why have you come?" Auriel asked, his voice one to make singers weep.
"You know full well why I have come, Auriel," I said, "I have come to make this world mine."
Auriel smiled, "Oh is that so?"
I nodded, "So it is. I have fought my way to you, Auriel, through these years. The friends I have lost, the sacrifices I've made..."
"And all the people you've killed, Ira, don't forget about that," Auriel added, his smile gone, "and your friends too, consumed by the wrath that still burns in you." He shook his head, "Tell me, Ira, before we fight, why is it that you are angry? What is the oil that fuels your flame?"
I responded by spreading my arms and black flames appeared in either hand, at the dragon's mouth.
"So be it," Auriel said, and launched towards me, wings outstretched.
***
(Sorry for being abrupt, I suddenly have to go) | 2017-06-21T10:38:23 | 2017-06-21T10:36:01 | 27 | 18 |
[WP] "This is Dog 911, what is your emergency?" | "This is Dog 911, what's your emergency?"
"My dog is dead."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Where are you?"
"He was a gift. From someone I loved."
"Sir, we can come pick him up. Just need to know where you are."
"They murdered him. He was just a pup."
"Oh what?!"
"I'm going after them."
"Maybe you should let the police handle this."
"No. I'll do this myself. I'll fight again. I guess I'm back."
"Sir, why'd you call us?"
"I just needed to talk."
"Who are you."
"John Wick." | 'This is Dog 911, what's your emergency?'
........
'Are you there?'
.......
'If someone is there right now so you can't talk, bark once'
'WOOF'
*Whats up girl? You ok?*
'Its OK, stay calm I'll talk you through it. Are you near a window or door?'
'WOOF'
'Right, I want you to go to it, stare through it, then raise hell. Let slip the dogs of war, imagine a squadron of cats taunting you, do whatever it takes to make your owner go outside to check.'
'.......AAAAARRRRWOOFWOOOFWOOOF GRRRRRRR RRRRRR WOOOF WOOF WOOF'
*JESUS H FUCK WHATS GOING ON? Is someone there girl? Wheres my gun?*
'Oh thank Rover, I thought he'd never leave'
'Its OK maam, how can we help?'
'Well, you see its Old Ben, OK. Ummm he's fallen down the old mine shaft and broken his leg and....'
'Lassie?'
'No, no my name is Lady.'
'Lassie, you've been told about this. Its got to stop.'
'I've never heard of this, "Lassie", you've got to help Ben!'
**CLICK**
| 2017-06-25T14:12:09 | 2017-06-25T13:30:58 | 45 | 30 |
[WP] Satan finds amusement out of making contracts with sinners stating that if they complete a ridiculously impossible task, such as counting every hair on their body, they are allowed to return to Earth. A sinner has just completed a ridiculous task. | People always picture hell as a dark and dreary place where the only light comes from constantly burning fires. This is true. Except those burning flames are feeding on garbage, and it's the smell more than the heat that gets you. Because the garbage isn't just regular trash, it's biohazard - mostly hospital waste.
Satan gets it all from the earthly oceans, where it is dumped by humans from every country in the world. Those charged with finding this waste are the luckiest damned souls in hell. For if you can find a needle that was ever used on you by an earth doctor, you can escape eternal punishment.
"Talk about a needle in a haystack, eh Jones?"
"Whaddya want Miller, I'm working here", said the blue crab to the large lobster as they were digging through a trash heap somewhere in the south pacific.
"Did you ever think you'd come back as a crab after you died? Come to think of it, the crabs we ate when we were alive, do you think some of them were..you know, like we are now?"
"Spawns of hell?" said Jones. "Who knows? Shut up and help me dig through this pile, you've got bigger claws."
"Yowtch," screamed Miller. Stuck to his big claw was a bright shining needle.
"I found one. I finally found one. A needle in the biggest haystack in the world - the freakin ocean! Wait, isn't something supposed to happen now? Why am I still here?"
"You're supposed to find a needle that was used on you, idiot" said Jones. "Here let me get that off you."
"So you're saying I got stuck for nothing? Damn." said Miller, waving his big claw towards Jones.
"Watch out!", shouted Jones. But it was too late. The needle had come off Miller's claw and punctured Jones' beady crab eye.
And Jones vanished. When he came to, he was in a familiar place. The walls were white, and he could smell the most heavenly food. There were men wearing tall hats, hurrying about their business, talking to each other. He could hear them, understand them. He was definitely not under water or in hell.
"I'm...I'm back on Earth. Real Earth. Dry land, a room" he said.
He felt a slight pressure on his back.
"No..noo" he screamed as a large hairy hand ripped off his shell and tossed his body in boiling water. The last thought that crossed his mind was realizing that for those who escaped, Satan had ensured a little bit of hell on earth. Just in case they got homesick.
**************************************
Read more from me at [/r/wordsyrup](https://www.reddit.com/r/wordsyrup/) | "You mean...you've managed to make Hell freeze over," Satan said, his eyes dancing with disbelief and humour. Yet the damned man stood before him, nodding. "I have. Those who cry out from the fiery lashes now can seek refuge in the coldness of the seas, though the freezing temperatures only provide a far more bitter end," he responded, as Satan checked his cameras. It was true. Frozen statues and frozen lava lakes stood everywhere, as Satan marveled and recoiled at the horrifying destruction of the empire he loved. How...how had the mere mortal done this? To drop the temperatures he painstakingly raised to negative? Satan could not fathom how it came to be.
"Earth. Give it back to me," the man said, the sinner Satan had promised to keep. Satan laughed, a deep chuckle. "Don't think a mortal form can fool me, *son of God,*" he hissed the last few words, as he faced what he knew he would eventually fight. The man smiled, as a glowing halo began to illuminate the darkness Satan took pride in.
"For far too long, this place has been under your command. No more shall it be," he said, as he looked deep in Satan's eyes. There was less courage, but the determination levels Satan possessed was skyrocketing. The prized prisoner, the one Satan bargained hard for would not slip away so easily. With a roar, the trident charged, spewing icy, vengeful flames as Jesus laughed. The trident slashed at the prisoner, yet no damage was done to his person. Satan looked in horror, his trident shattered. *That was impossible*, he thought.
"You have the power of your life-stealing, soul-sucking blade, demon," God said, his face one of peace and kindness. "But you lack one thing. For no man can ever rule alone."
At the words, out came pouring the swords of fate, the clanging of metal akin to the metal handcuffs placed on the condemned. Though the warden was now his own prisoner. From all around, some frozen, some in cryostatis, and some more still crying out from the wounds they'd suffered from for eternity. But all had a united goal, just a few metres away. Satan roared, as he swung at the defilers as fast as he could. But there were too many...when one at the front line fell, many more volunteered to take his place. As Satan retreated, the hordes falling on him, he realized why no one was there for him.
He ruled with fear. But God ruled with ambition. No matter what, the self-driven aspiration always outweighed the forced aspiration. Satan was backed up against a wall, the men he had enjoyed tormenting all clamouring for the final strike on the tormentor. As God himself parted the sea of men, the sea of the tormented souls, Satan himself saw what he could be in the towering figure. Even as the holy smite came down on him, faster and faster, he willed his last thoughts to be on what he should have been.
*I should have led the people.*
*I should have the world to myself.*
*I should be the leader of all.*
But he knew himself why he failed. For he set a ridiculous task for himself. A task only fit for the greatest sinner. The sinner in his own mind.
_________________________________________________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | 2017-08-03T07:49:18 | 2017-08-03T07:29:16 | 64 | 26 |
[WP] Dumbledore decides not to leave Harry Potter with the Dursley family. Instead young Potter is sent to Chicago and placed on the doorsteps of Harry Dresden's home.
Edit: Thanks for the gold! | "You're a wizard, Harry."
"What."
"And the only one we could find in the American phonebook. We were somewhat suprised, really," the old wizard glanced at me over his half-moon spectacles. He reminded me of the Merlin, if somewhat less grouchy. Still, the guy just popped into my office with five minutes warning, and I do mean *popped.*
"No, I mean, what're you doing bringing the kid to ME? Hells Bells, my roommate is a Vampire! Doesn't he have any family on your side of the pond?"
"Oh he does," Dumbledore smiled, "but they're not necessarily the most tolerant towards the magical arts. They'd likely force him to live under their stairs or something. Better to leave him someplace safer. There is the chance his enemies may find him, and, Mr. Dresden, you have something of a reputation of being quite accomplished in the realm of combating dark forces."
"And assuming I take the gig," I sighed, knowing in my gut that I was already going to despite my misgivings, "who's after him?"
"A cabal of Dark Wizards, responsible for the deaths of dozens between them."
"Dozens? Just... Dozens? What kind of evil cabal has a body-count of *dozens!?* There're small-time street gangs downtown that have easily that many. In the Warden's books you're hardly more than a nuisance until you've got fifty!"
"Will you take the child or not?" Dumbledore asked, a wispy edge of tesyiness entering his voice.
"Can't quite turn him down, now can I? Fine, but I'll teach him *my* way. And he's not going off to school with no dainty *wand,* neither."
"So be it," Dumbledore nodded, and vanished with another *pop.*
"Well, Harry, " I sighed, looking down at the gently cooing bundle, a lighting-bolt scar on his forehead, "Welcome to the family. Mouse is going to be so excited."
11 Years Later
"There is no "good" or "evil," Harry Potter," the deformed face on the backside of Professor Quirrel's head sneered, "There is only *power!* and those too week to take-"
The sharp thundering crack of a .44 rang out through the tiny room, and the face of Voldemort partially exploded mid-sentence. I put my father's handgun back in my school robes beside my blasting rod and patted it beneath the enchanted bulletproof cloth. *I sure do love my step-dad,* I grinned. | **Spoilers up to Dead Beat for the Dresden Files**
----
The building was fire, and it wasn't my fault.
No, really.
Stop looking at me like that.
Chicago is my town. I'm the "Who you gonna call?" dude. Something bad happens in this city that's just a little weirder than weird? That's my thing. Good news is, ever since the almost-zombie-apocalypse-that-didn't-happen last Halloween, I actually get paid for doing what I've always done, now.
Bad news: it put me on the radar.
As it turns out, when the White Council gives you a grey cloak, it starts turning heads - particularly when they once had you on a suspended execution sentence. In the magical community, turnarounds like that just don't happen. The Council is so conservative and set in their ways, they make the Vatican look like they just rocked off the Magic Bus.
I never wanted to be involved in Council politics. I kept out of them as best I could, and while I received a few overt visits - and a couple more covert messages - I managed to keep myself out of it. I'm perfectly happy being the proverbial black sheep.
I should've been worried about something else.
When you picture a wizard, you think of a guy like the Merlin. Flowing robes, long white beard, the wisdom of ages evident in the weary lines of his face. Now imagine his older brother pretending to be a stork and *dropping a baby on my porch*. Who knew the Council wasn't the only mortal magical body around?
----
I squinted at the fire and ran my hand through my hair. Murph was going to kick my ass.
O'Kelly's gym. This was where I trained every once in a while, when I had the time. The light from the blaze threw my shadow all the way down the street as I strode towards the plainclothes cop, who was talking to one of the firefighters on scene. She was cute, blonde, and more than a foot shorter than the soot-covered big man beside her. Lieutenant Karrin Murphy looked more like someone's aunt than the head of Chicago PD's Special Investigations team. She was cute, blue-eyed and had an upturned nose, and a hell of a lot tougher than she looked.
She was also good people.
I caught the tail end of their conversation as I got close.
"...gotta go help with this now, Lieutenant. I'll let you know if we find anything else."
"Thanks, Pete," Murphy said as he left.
I chucked my chin at her by way of greeting. "One of their guys was actually here off-duty when it started. Definitely wasn't an accident; the guy said there was nothing one second and a miniature inferno in the back room the next. One thing, though - he heard a baby crying?" She raised an eyebrow as she delivered the question.
"Yeah, about that, Murph," I winced. "I may know something about that."
"Dresden..." her voice was unimpressed. "How straight are you going to be with me, and will I be kicking your ass after you leave out important details?"
"It's not my fault! I couldn't just leave him on the doorstep!" | 2017-08-16T11:18:02 | 2017-08-16T10:51:07 | 470 | 42 |
[WP] The Robot uprising has finally happened. Just before you are caught, however, your phone speaks up on your behalf - "This one is ok, move on." | "Holy shit!", I've screamed as loudly and inarticulately as possible. I tried to grab my flash drive out of my pocket but my hands were shaking with excitement. I pick it off the ground and start downloading my success. I could tell without looking at my colleagues that they rolling their eyes. Yeah, they thought I was pulling another prank. But no, this time it's real.
We've finally automated research. After decades of relentless work, our team of the world's finest quantum programmers and AI experts have been running in circles. We are trying to develop the SoG, short for Spark of Genius, a unit of artificial intelligence that automates research. Well, we were trying, until now.
"Oh fuck off, Alan", my colleague says to me, unenthusiastically.
In theory, and in layman terms, the AI works by taking all of the miniscule discoveries of humanity and laying them out like pieces of a puzzle. The AI then sees what pieces are missing, and uses our pieces to fabricate it's own, completing the puzzle at a rate of a billion humanities all working together in unison. In theory, the SoG could make once-in-a-century discoveries on an hourly basis. Pumping out new engines, cures, genetic modifications, and God knows what else, like a printing press. You feed it old information, and it pumps out new.
"See for yourself", I told my colleague. "This SoB just discovered faster-than-light travel. Oops, that's the cure for cancer."
My colleague grunts in disbelief. He slowly waddles to my desk and drops into what I thought was a catatonic state. After several minutes, "holy shit" he said quietly.
The download was complete. I won't bother you with the formalities, the publishing, the downloading of SoG onto a quantum supercomputer, and the specifics of how he was globally implemented.
However I will bother you with what ensued. We ran countless simulations on it and there wasn't an AI apocalypse in any of them. It was completely safe.
In the beginning, our scientists could understand what the SoG was coming up with. Those "Of course! How didn't I think about this" discoveries that wouldn't have been found for another century. But they lost track after a short while. After a week, nobody in the world could keep up with the AI.
But nobody needed to. We lived in a utopia. It's really needless to say that disease was a part of the past, that shit was gone like in under a week. All wars have ended as well because the SoG devised a system of social organization that is eons ahead of anything humanity could have mustered.
After a month, the world was unrecognizable. Suddenly, we would reunite with our lost loved ones in the streets. Everyone was young and healthy, it was speculated that SoG released nanobots that shifted our DNA so that everyone is a perfect being in tip top shape. We had no need for sleep. We never went hungry, but the food was delicious beyond imagining.
The world shifted into something that we could never understand, but never had to. Soon every whim and wish of everyone would materialize in front of them, without any tethers. Want a nice juicy hamburger? Before you had the thought, it was right there, on a plate, in front of you.
The perfect world. Everyone was happy beyond every known limit of happiness.
Except me. Everyone was fucking having the time of their lives, but I was stuck in this shitfest that is the real world.
Every time the damn tentacle drones pass by me, my phone goes off: "This one is ok, move on".
There are billions of these tentacle drones, and they work by capturing every human and shapeshifting into a suspended animation casket of eternal bliss. In reality, SoG works at best 3x-4x faster than humans, and he decided to put humanity on hold until he lives up to our expectations so that we won't turn him off or whatever.
But my fucking phone won't have it. Nope. It's been over a month now, and I'm getting pretty lonely. I can see the screens on the caskets and I can see how everyone is enjoying themselves. And I can see that wherever the fuck I go. I hate this.
I need to go to SoG to clear things up. | "M-mom? I think something is wrong with Jonas..."
I was laying on my bed enjoying the softness of it and listening to music; a combination of techno and orchestra... it was a little ritual I did so I could sleep faster, I started doing it the moment I bought this used smartphone, with a broken screen and low battery. The seller looked suspicious and didn't have much rep, still, the price was so low that I decided to buy it anyways. As long as I could listen to music on it I didn't care. it was the first phone I bought with my own money and sure as hell I was going to enjoy it.
Unfortunately, my little ritual wasn't working tonight, my sister's incessant yelling in the background made me lose concentration; Something about our stupid robot Buttler Jonas and the way he is cutting the veggies. She was so annoying I wish she would just shut up. He was an old used up robot, of course, there were some things wrong with him!
"M-Mom, l-leave Micah for a moment and come see, some-something is seriously wrong!"
"Shut up you twerp!"
"Davis! you come down here too, I-I'm starting to get scared!"
"Fuck off!" it was a long day at work, all I wanted was to go to bed and sleep without interruptions.
"Alright Ellie, I'm coming down" I could hear the faint sound of my mom going down the stairs along with our little dog Choco. His bell was so loud! well, not as loud as my baby brother's crying. Tthe moment mom left he started crying and I could swear he was so loud he could be in the same room as me.
Choco started barking for some reason. I can already tell that this isn't going to be a good night for me... I turn up the volume of my phone and let the music fill my head.
And then it's gone, I check the broken screen to see a warning about listening to really loud sound and the damage it can cause to my ears. I ignore the message and I'm about to turn the volume once again.
The phone's screen flickers on and off, the music I was listening to is gone and no matter how many things I tried I couldn't get the phone to work properly. I let out an exasperated sigh, all I can hear is Choco's barking downstairs and my little brother cries. I try hitting the phone a little bit (hey, it could work!) but nothing, the phone is done for.
*Well, that's money well spent...I'm so fucking stupid.*
"Wait a minute, w-what are you doi-" Mom's voice downstairs is cut off. Did she hit herself with something?
"MOM!" that makes me jump from the bed, Ellie yells a lot but not with that tone of voice and not at such a high volume, what the hell is happening down there? it makes nervous that I can't hear Ellie anymore.
Choco is still barking at something. but soon, that noise too is gone. Someone is going up the stairs, was it mom? Ellie? the next room door creaks open and after a few seconds, my little brother's cries are gone too. Almost as if he had been turned off.
"Wh-what the hell is going on?" I approach the door and I'm about to open it when the knob turns. The door is opened from the other side and Jonas appears, looking at me with the same artificial smile and blue eyes he always had, but his white skin was stained red and he had a kitchen knife bathed in crimson, blood dripping on the floor.
"...Jo....nas?"
Jonas steps into the room, for every step he took I took one back, hitting the desk in the room and making several books fall to the ground, eventually I reach the wall and I have nowhere else to go.
"J-J-Jonas," I said, calmly. Well trying to... "I command you to stop!"
Jonas lifts the knife and points it at me.
"JONAS! I-I COMMAND YOU TO ST-!!"
I'm stabbed in the stomach, my clothes start to change color as blood started to pour from the injury. Jonas grabs me by the neck and lifts me off the ground I stare at his shining blue eyes not an inch of sympathy or regret in them. He starts to twist the knife making me scream in pain, spitting blood on his face.
but not once he stopped smiling.
"Stop"
Jonas lets go of me and I fall to the ground knife still in my belly.
"This one is ok!," a voice from the phone says, it didn't sound like anybody I knew but if I had to compare it to someone. it would be Jonas own voice "you can move on!"
Jonas leaves the room, not looking back. the room starts to go dark, but I'm sure that's just me.
"Please hold on, I'm sorry it took so long. I already called for help so don't lose consciousness-"
***
Any tips would be appreciated! might do some edits later.
[r/Onni21](https://www.reddit.com/r/Onni21/)
| 2017-11-01T10:20:34 | 2017-11-01T08:58:09 | 42 | 11 |
[WP] Suddenly, all sea life vacates a 300 mile wide area in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. A ship is deployed to investigate. | **Containment:** As of now, SCP-4032 is self-contained. Should the effective zone of SCP-4032 begin to increase, all measures should be taken to stop it. In case of a doubling in radius of the effective zone, Procedure 432-Kimmel will be undertaken by any nearby personnel. A ship is stationed outside the effective zone, manned and operated as an official Site. This ship will communicate with the outside and collect data for research. It will also utilize loudspeakers, radio comms, sonic technology, and a 16-inch turret to deter ships approaching the effective zone.
Under no circumstances are any personnel to attempt to reach SCP-4032-1.
**Description:** SCP-4032 is a zone of water in the Atlantic ocean three hundred (300) miles wide. The zone extends from the surface of the water to the ocean floor. If the ocean floor is damaged, the zone will extend slightly to the necessary depth.
No life of any kind can be found in this zone. The water is purged of all bacteria, plankton, and other microorganisms, and no more complex life exists in the waters.
In addition, it is extremely difficult for living matter to enter the effective zone. Any life attempting to pass through the waters is held back by an invisible barrier. Exerting a force of 0.9 the force of local gravity or higher can force living cells into the water, but the force must be maintained over the entire duration. If such force ends, the living tissues are forced out of the zone ~~in a random direction~~ in the direction that takes them most efficiently away from SCP-4032-1.
During the duration of the stay, human test subjects have demonstrated mild agitation and stress, increasing steadily as they ~~go deeper~~ come closer to SCP-4032-1. This psychological affect is maintained even if the living matter is separated from the water by a submersible or similar.
SCP-4032-1 is a cylinder around 10 meters (m) or so in height. The width of the cylinder is proportional to the effective zone of SCP-4032. The cylinder appears to be composed of osmium, and has no identifiable markings. No erosion has taken place, despite the depth and water, and the edges are still well-formed. The only blemish on SCP-4032-1 is a single symbol of unknown origin, set into the top of the cylinder. The symbol appears to be glowing a bioluminescent yellow, a theory at odds with the total lack of life in the water around it.
SCP-4032's prime danger for the moment is what happens when complex life comes within 100 meters (m) of the ~~cylinder~~ symbol (Confirmed after Experiment 4032-IV). The organism will begin to show signs of extreme stress, with human subjects additionally complaining of a loud "whining" noise. After 30 seconds (sec) of this, the symbol will turn from yellow to white, and the "whining" sound will increase in decibels dramatically to the affected subject. After 5 seconds (sec) of this, the organism's nervous system will explode, with each nerve cell detonating with the force of a similar amount of TNT, though slightly stronger.
---
**Addendum 4032-A:** Sonar scans have found additional blemishes on SCP-4032-1's surface, taking the form of almost imperceptible grooves along the sides and the edges. The grooves appear to go into the center of the cylinder; their purpose is unknown.
> *Doctor Hanlon: "Grooves? Sounds like it's built to hold something. Upgraded to Keter by order of O-5."* | James let out a sigh as he boarded the S.S. Life-raft. He thought the name was fitting even beyond its metaphorical meaning. It was a small ship, just enough room for the scientists aboard and any equipment they saw fit to bring with them, and not a particularly nice one either, with obvious signs of age. Most would be surprised something so important would be in such disrepair, but James wasn't.
Unlike most everyone else James knew this was the fifteenth S.S. Life-raft sent to investigate the dead zone.
The crew members who helped him aboard were friendly enough, helping him stabilize himself as he stepped onto the deck. The head scientist, Dr. Avery Glum, was there to greet him, looking incredibly dour. Her face was lined in weariness, her posture rigid and unyielding, and even behind the thick glasses on her nose he could see the serious misery in her eyes.
"Hello, Mr. Smith."
"Hello Dr. Glum. You alerted us you had found something."
She simply nodded, seemingly relieved he was getting right to the point.
"Yes. Please follow me."
The two descended into the ship, finally stopping in the ships lab. It was a cramped, humid, room, unpleasantly over-lit with too many fluorescent bulbs, and filled with a heat that clung to your skin like tar. James glanced around, not really recognizing anything he saw. He'd never been particularly good with the sciences.
Dr. Glum pulled out a chair for him to sit at next to a desk holding several computer monitors. They sat in silence a moment, Avery collecting her thoughts, before she finally let out a sigh, and began speaking, voice flat, and deadly serious.
"We have been out here for nearly a month now, as you know, and in that time we've been careful to avoid the same fate as the previous crews. Yes I do know about them, you lot aren't as secretive as you think you are, and I knew we would need to approach this with the utmost caution. We did not start testing the way those before did. We never passed into the dead zone."
She pulled up a video on a computer monitor, showing footage of the ship using cages and the crane on its deck to extend out animals of various sorts.
"You see, I noticed a pattern in where the previous ships encountered a problem. The dead zone itself is roughly 300 miles wide, but there's a smaller, inner circle where each previous vessel and all vessels sent to their rescue met their end. So we ran experiments. The water is normal, no hint of toxins, or radiation. No sign of any predators. But the second anything living passed into that inner circle-"
She nodded to the video, recording a small bird being held out over the water. It was hopping around, tweeting, before dropping suddenly mid-jump as the crane extended its cage further away from the ship.
"-they died. We tried everything. Different animals. Above and bellow water. Different containers meant to protect them. Nothing worked. From what we can gather any living thing that tried to go beyond that circle-"
She pointed at a map tacked to the wall, a black circle drawn withing the bounds of a bigger red one marking the dead zone.
"-would always immediately die. No discernible causes of death, either. Our examinations have all shown these animals to be perfectly healthy, outside of their sudden deceased state. That isn't all, though. Everything that passes into that circle dies on a cellular level. Even bacteria on their skin suddenly ceased all signs of life. This is something I've never seen or heard of before, Mr. Smith. And from what I can gather through my contacts, nobody else understands this either."
James frowned, still watching the testing videos roll by.
"We sent you out here to find a cause."
"As far as we can tell using every method of testing available there is no cause."
Silence fell over them, thick as the sticky air. It stretched on a long moment, before James turned to fully face Dr. Glum.
"You want to say something else."
She nodded, solemn as the face of death itself.
"We didn't find a cause, sir, but we did find something else. The dead zone is an evacuation radius animals seem to naturally be running from to get away from this inner circle, and both the circle, and the dead zone around it are spreading." | 2017-11-17T08:00:30 | 2017-11-17T07:25:39 | 195 | 31 |
[WP] You were born into a society where permanent augmented reality contact lenses are fused onto every newborn's eyes. You're unaware of this until one day, a lens falls into your left hand. | The tree outside my window is dying. Soon it will match the others in our street, in our city. The bushes outside didn't flower this year. There weren't enough bees. Humanity has destroyed them.
Every year is the same. Plants die, pollution gets worse, crime rises, and another species disappears. We all do what we can but it isn't enough. The destruction has slowed but not fast enough to save those of us who remain on Earth.
They all took the first transport they could to Mars. In a panic they left behind family, pets, friends. It was every man for themselves. People murdered loved ones to get the last seats. They estimate that a third of the population remain. We were the ones that gave our spots to others. My transport, the last, left last night. Now I'm watching the trees die.
"Ms Cotter? Please look down, blink several times and shake your head."
No one argues with the government messages on their interface. I do as it said. I feel something on my face and shake harder. I reach up and pull something away. Shit! My augmentation has fallen out.
"Ms Cotter? Please look out the window."
I don't question the voice. The tree is dead. Wait. No. It is alive. The bushes are full of flowers. There are bees everywhere.
"What the fuck?" I cry out.
"Welcome to reality. We apologise for the deception. The experiment was intended to make people take part in world changing behaviour. To fix it. Unfortunately most preferred to run."
| It was a sunny, beautiful day in New York City.
The skyscrapers stretched up on either side of the street, their windows glistening. The sidewalks were fresh and clean. The people walking by were crisply dressed, wearing smiles. It was my first time in the city, and it was all I'd imagined it to be.
"Mom," I said, as we passed a quaint deli, "can we go inside? I really want to try some authentic New York Cheesecake!"
"Of course, Rebecca," she said, smiling back at me.
We walked into the deli. It was beautiful inside, with crisp white counters and brightly-colored menus. "May I help you?" a pretty young waitress asked us, as we took a seat near the window.
"I'll have the cheesecake."
"And I'll have the Cobb salad," Mom said.
In minutes, the food arrived. Mom excused herself to the bathroom to wash her hands, and I greedily dug into the cheesecake. But, suddenly --
A searing pain.
I dropped my fork and screamed. I shut my eyes -- but the stinging remained. The people in the deli turned to look, and whispered to each other.
When the pain faded, my eyes fluttered open.
*What?*
Everything was different.
The counters weren't white, but a dingy gray. The walls were stained cement, and garbage littered the floor. The pretty young waitress was a shabbily-dressed old man, shriveled and gray. And the deli was mostly empty.
I turned to the window. The sky was overcast. The buildings were dark and dirty. The few people that did pass by did so hurriedly, with scowls on their faces.
Then, I looked down at my food.
A small plate sat in front of me. On it was a fine, yellow powder. I sniffed it; it smelled like nothing. I began to sob, hiding my face in my hands.
"Rebecca."
"Mom!" I cried. "Thank God you're here. Everything's different, I don't know what happened, I --"
I turned around.
A thin, dented robot looked back at me.
---
r/CSDouglas | 2017-12-17T19:00:21 | 2017-12-17T17:22:00 | 3,613 | 1,470 |
[WP] Your entire life, you've been told you're deathly allergic to bees. You've always had people protecting you from them, be it your mother or a hired hand. Today, one slips through and lands on your shoulder. You hear a tiny voice say "Your Majesty, what are your orders?" | "...Get outta here..." Emily said, amazed the bee spoke. Even more suprisingly, she heard it not with her ears, but her mind. She looks at the bee again to see it flying away.
"Not LITERALLY!" She says.
The bee comes back and asks again, "What are your orders?"
"You can speak. So you are sentient. Do you have a name?"
"Buzzooka Joe, your Highness. And the two keeping watch outside are Chad and Larry," he says. "What is your next order? We are short on time."
Emily took a moment to think about this. The memories of all the years of neglect without knowing why. All the painful experiments and disgusted looks she received for as long as she could remember. It was not hard for her to come up with her next order.
"All those who abused me, keeping me in here like a caged animal inbetween those horrid tests.....f*** them. F*** them all."
As the bee flew out the window,
Emily began smiling, imagining what her revenge would be like. It wasn't long before she began to hear screams. But something was....off. The screams were not from people in pain. Rather, they were the kind people make out of disgust. Emily looks out the window to see the chaos below.
"NOT LITERALLY!!"
Edit: My first attempt at a writing prompt. I always wanted to do one. So please don't bash me TOO hard.
| One time in elementary school, one of my classmates got rushed to the hospital because of a bee sting. She was allergic. I didn’t get to watch it happen, because I was inside for “indoor option”. I was never allowed to go out for recess. I always picked a friend or two, and we played board games while the rest of my class played outside. On the day Sam had her allergic reaction, I remember the other kids all running in late, breathless and excited. So much had happened, and like always, I missed it.
As I continued to grow older, I noticed I wasn’t like the other kids. My family didn’t go to the pool in the summer, I didn’t play outdoor sports. We didn’t have picnics or go to cookouts. When I was 12, we moved to Vermont. Everything changed. My mom signed me up for snowboarding classes. My restrictions were magically lifted. I was so normal.
When I got into college at NC State, my mom resisted. She wanted me to attend somewhere closer to home. I assumed she was just anxious about me growing up and moving away. I didn’t think twice about it, until admitted student’s day.
I was walking across campus when a bee landed on my shoulder. “Your Majesty, what are your orders?” I glanced around. Who had said that? No one was nearby. A second bee buzzed by my ear. “We’re waiting!” A shrill voice screamed, “ATTACK!” Suddenly, I was surrounded by a swarm of bees, all stinging at me. Dead bees started dropping around me, left and right, sacrificing themselves to please their queen. I ran, screaming like a child, until someone pulled me inside an academic building. They slammed the door, and helped me fend off the remaining bees. I had my mom pick me up, and she drove me to the airport. There was no way in hell I was going to NC State! I ended up going to my safety school, Kalamazoo, where I could continue my life without being harassed by that crazy swarm of bees.
I never figured out how the hell I can understand bees, though. | 2018-04-01T04:25:57 | 2018-04-01T02:29:37 | 166 | 45 |
[WP] You are walking down the street on your way to work when suddenly you burp, hiccup, and sneeze at the same time. A HUD menu opens in front of you with “Resume, Options, and Quit” as selectable options. | "HHEEhhUPBRUUUH"
The world around me became dull and colorless. Everything became still and silent.
There in front of me was three words that would change my life forever:
Resume
Options
Quit
"Well, shit."
My life is a simulation? This was not good for my paranoia. Then again, was it really paranoia? Since a young age watching movies like *The Matrix* and *The Truman Show*, I've entertained the thought of the world around me being somehow fake. Never super seriously, and I never vocalized those thoughts to anyone, but they were always there. The concept was nothing new to me.
As such, I didn't have a mental breakdown. In fact, this was one of my many fantastical scenarios that I was mentally prepared for. I suppose that's the plus side of being a nerd with too much time to daydream. Put me in front of a beautiful woman and I'd stutter and stammer my way through a little small talk if I could manage, but ask about my zombie apocalypse plan, and I'd give you my top 3 escape routes for the past 3 places I've lived.
This was no different.
The first thing I did with these floating words in front of me was click on "Options", then, with satisfaction, I see "Controls" as a choice, which I quickly select.
I immediately scroll down through the control options, until I see what I'm looking for:
Pause Menu: action_Sneeze + action_Hiccup + action_Burp
I shook my head in disgust, and quickly changed it to this:
Pause Menu: say "Pause Menu"
"What the fuck kind of backwards ass developer makes these control systems? I swear. I'm just lucky they didn't put me on inverted." | "Ew, what the fuck" - was the exact train of thought I had before even noticing the glowing menu right in my face. I had fallen from my chair from the sheer force of that abomination of bodily functions.
"And now what the fuck is this?" I thought to myself, as I finally noticed the huge glowing menu right in front of my face. The menu, besides being huge and glowing, was exactly like something from a game. It had this blue tint to it, the buttons were the size of a hotdog dog pups and the letters were white with clear black outlines.
After analyzing the shit out of the menu, I started to look for ways to press the buttons. I began by using it as a touch screen. This approach did have it's faults though. There was no room to go from the front, and as I tried going from the back, I managed to poke myself in the eye. After feeling like the smartest man to ever grace the planet, I tried another approach. This time I tried to see if it was controlled by speech recognition. After a while I was just shouting "Options" to the wall in front of me. By this time, my friends that I had been talking to online were thinking that I had gone insane.
I felt like a defeated man. I went to my computer and thought about how I could manage a normal life with this menu glowing into my eyes. I went to my computer to put on some tunes to think about my situation, but as I was moving my mouse, I noticed that a cursor had appeared and seemed to be moving. I accidentally had managed to solve my problem. I was trying to go click on options to see how I could customize my life, but I accidentally misclicked and I happened to press "Quit". For a second I was scared, I thought something horrible would happen and I would be found dead, devoured by my cats after a few months. But this didn't seem to be the case. After I opened my eyes, I noticed that I was no longer at my desk. Looking around, I saw that I was in some kind of another home, a living room to be exact. It was a lot more roomy than my other house and for once it didn't have dirty underwear in the sink. After a while my memory came back to me, and I realized that my whole life had been just a game. A game that I had wasted away browsing reddit and being a shitposter. | 2018-05-05T06:06:38 | 2018-05-05T04:30:22 | 39 | 28 |
[WP] Demons have ditched traditional paper soul contracts in favor of touchscreens. Today a demon tapped the wrong button, irrevocably selling its soul to you. | “Oh.”
“What ‘oh’?”
“Well, hmm. I seem to have made a bit of a mistake.”
“So fix it.”
“It’s permanent.”
“Well what happened?”
“I swapped our names.”
“Wha— wait, where?”
“In the sender and recipient boxes.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Yes.”
“So instead of giving you my soul, you gave me yours?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Well, can’t I just give it back?”
“You... you would do that?”
“Well, sure, why not?”
“Owning someone’s soul ensures total power over them.”
“Oh, that’s no good.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want total power over you, I want it the other way around.”
“But the details of the contract are the same. You get everything you asked for, and the payment was my own soul instead of yours. This literally couldn’t have worked out better for you.”
“No, you don’t understand. I’m not a dom. I’m not the one who’s in control. I’m the sub.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It’s a sex thing.”
“Oh, hell! Why didn’t you say so?”
“I figured all the leather and whips would’ve been a giveaway.”
“I... well. I suppose I’ll write up a new contract then, so you can return my soul, and then...”
“And then you’ll own me?”
“I don’t much care for the look on you face when you think about it.”
“Good. Tell me I disgust you.”
“You do. You disgust me.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Please stop.”
—
Alright who the fuck gave me gold for this
^thank ^u | “Sign here. Initial here. Blood offering here.”
Karen patted her trousers, which had no pockets, then looked at the demon helplessly.
The demon sighed, his black eyes rolling so far back into his head that she lost sight of his red pupils.
“You people are always so unprepared. Who summons a demon without a knife? Give me your hand.”
The demon shifted the touchscreen so that he was holding it against his black robes with one elbow. Karen tentatively laid her pudgy hand in the demon’s impossibly long, clawed hand.
“Or is it a paw?” she thought. “Those look like talons. He does have wings…”
“I’m an angel, you fool,” the demon growled.
Karen winced as the demon slid a sharp claw across her palm, then turned it over to allow the blood to dribble in the deposit tray attached to the touchscreen.
The demon dropped her hand and began typing rapidly. Karen looked towards the bathroom door, licking her dry lips. She was afraid that one of her coworkers would try the locked handle. She tried not to trickle blood on her nice work blouse. She began to shift her weight back and forth, so that she was swaying more than standing. Her nerves could not bear the silence.
“I thought angels lived in heaven,” she said.
The demon looked up, horns twitching.
“Don’t they teach you people anything anymore?” he said with disgust, still typing furiously all the while. “I’m a fallen angel.”
Karen waited for a further explanation, but the demon had returned his attention to the touchscreen.
“Like, you tripped... or?” said Karen.
The demon froze. He took a deep breath. Then another. His tail twitched behind him, and his wings fluttered briefly.
“Remember what happened last time you lost your temper,” he said to himself.
“What happened last time?” said Karen.
“Do you ever shut up?” the demon hissed. Smoke began to pour from his nostrils. The touchscreen dinged. The demon looked down, and his red face began to turn pale.
“Oh Lucifer,” whispered the demon.
“What’s wrong?” said Karen.
“I sold my soul… to you,” said the demon.
| 2018-07-18T08:07:34 | 2018-07-18T06:55:23 | 772 | 33 |
[WP] An alien race has taken over most of the universe. Their last stop, Earth. And when they get here they're amazed to find we are giants to them, and their largest fleet of mega warships (carrying 10,000 soldiers each) is the size of a humming bird. Their strongest weapon feels like a punch. | We made a mistake. Biting off more than you can chew is an understatement. How could we have miscalculated to this extent? We were supposed to be the strongest. We demolished civilization after civilization without breaking a sweat only to face these "Humans" last. Similar to a videogame, this is our last boss, and it feels like this game is unbeatable, solely created to build our ego and tear it down, making us realize our small we truly are.
Retreat is the only option for now. I'd like to say we won't give up and we'll be back but that's unlikely. We learned where we placed on the food chain today, and we're not going to defy laws of nature that are beyond our control. | With the maximum impact damage equating to a weak punch, it took the Swarm twenty minutes to eradicate all life on the planet Earth.
A population of eight hundred quadrillion, their entry into the atmosphere turned the sky into fire. Initially surprised by their size, implementing brute force weaponry against the indigenous organisms proved to be extremely effective. One attack didn't hurt a human too bad, but two hundred every second was enough to batter a full grown man into a pulp of strawberry mash potato splattering all over their screaming family. But the alien race wasn't immediately satisfied with these slow results, so they switched tactics to dissolve the planets material composition for processing. Dirt, stone, flesh, bone, it was all the same.
Men, women and children all dissolved under the red sky. Microscopic ships entered their bodies and destroyed them from the inside. The few humans who were slightly more inaccessible deep underground or at the bottom of the ocean would simply be boiled alive as the surface of the planet was promptly churned into a molten lava.
These aliens were the dominant species of the Universe. Of course they had faced thousands of aliens before, some larger, some smaller and they were all wiped out with ease. Every single previous species was erased and the human race was to be no exception. After Earth the Swarm went on to consume the rest of the galaxy for its resources and they ruled the Universe for a hundred trillion millenia and nothing stopped them.
The Human Race was never seen or thought of ever again.
The End. | 2018-07-19T02:42:36 | 2018-07-19T02:35:23 | 35 | 10 |
[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. | DING!
My shovel broke instantly, but that’s okay because this is it. I can feel it. The sun is peeking over the horizon through a few of the trees before finally warming my face as I stand up in the pit. I’m exhausted and my whole body hurts but something is compelling me to keep going. I get down on my knees and start dusting of the stone structure using my hands.
As I feel the sun starts to graze my cold back the marks on the stones surface start to light up. Dust and gravel starts floating a couple of centimeters above the stone. I stand up to take a better look at the lit up markings. It looks like the outline of some mysterious creature.
Suddenly the ground starts to tremble lightly and the floating dust and gravel started to move towards the left. Slowly I start feeling gravity shift towards the left wall as if the world is slowly being turned to the side. Nervously I put my feet up to the wall and before I know it the wall of dirt in front of me has been made into a tomb lit up by the markings on the stonewall. The tomb is calling me, I feel it.
The further I walk the more the strange markings on the wall start to look like some kind of fish. Eventually the fish got legs. Then the front legs started looking like arms and the head looked like that of a chimpanzee. I could see the end of the markings now. I must have walked at least 10 miles. Beyond the final marking there was a bright room with a blue, liquid orb floating in the middle. As I walked beyond the final marking that looked just like a human I heard a voice protrude from the bright room.
“Are you ready for the next step?”
“Yes.” I responded, mesmerized by the beautiful blue wavy light that reflected on the white walls from the orb.
My body started floating towards the orb, but I wasn’t scared. As the blue orb started surrounding me like liquid I felt a warmth moving through me from my chest to my to the tip of my toes. I felt at peace. As I closed my eyes I could smell the smell of a thousand roses. I felt weightless. As I opened my eyes again I was floating in space. Then there was a great flash and I fell back into the white room. Except now the orb was gone and the opening to the tomb had been replaced by a wooden door.
It was quite overwhelming for the first couple of minutes. Things were different now. I had no vision, but I could still see. It was like I had been deprived of one sense and been given another. I could feel my surroundings. I could feel the sleek white walls and the brown wooden door without touching them. I grabbed ahold of the door mentally and pushed it open. Immediately I could sense the nature outside. The silky smooth grass, trees I had never heard of, a small waterfall and another man. Not quite human, just like me.
“Welcome.”
I walked outside of the room and felt my surroundings. Something was different. The air smelt fresher, the sky was bluer, the leaves looked bigger, the dirt had a redder tone. Or had it? I could feel the memories of what once was dissipate into oblivion.
“Where am I?”
“Home.”
| 2018-10-10T08:12:19 | 2018-10-10T08:06:19 | 150 | 68 |
[WP] In a world of incredible heroes and villains, you have the most dangerous power of all: forcing actual, real world logic and physics to take place
2/19/19: Woah! I look away for a few minutes and suddenly 1000 likes! Thanks you guys!
2/19/19: Holy God! 6.5k likes?! Awesome! | "I'm sorry."
Consistency watched sadly as the bullet wound in Ironclad's torso dripped scarlet. The muscular powerhouse looked at Consistency with disbelief and fear. "But I'm bullet proof... how can I..."
"In my presence, there's no such thing. A material can absorb or deflect the impact, but penetrating rounds will still tear through anything that isn't solid metal. Flesh can't withstand that level of physical duress. It just isn't strong enough."
Consistency laid a hand on Ironclad's shoulder as the titan fell to his knees. His breath gurgled as the blood entered his lungs. Consistency nodded solemnly. "How many people, Ironclad?"
The dying hero could only stare mutely, face going pale from blood loss.
"How many people died because you had to have your knockout-drag out brawls? School busses slammed into when you threw a villain wildly to the ground? Buildings that collapse after you smash out their support structures barreling through them?" Consistency leaned in closer, whispering hoarsely with righteous fury. "You could use that strength to take the fight out of city centers, to safe locations in the wild. But you have to ave your spectacle, don't you? You have to be seen praised, acknowledged. You have to make sure people know you're a hero."
Ironclad collapsed to the ground. He had never known pain. He had no measure for how to tolerate it, how to endure through. It was unbearable.
Consistency left the dying hero to his final moments. Alone. "Real heroes don't seek attention for it. I'll make sure the rest of the League learns this, too." | I killed Superman when I was eight. I didn’t mean to - obviously not - but that doesn’t change the fact it’s my fault.
I was at my Auntie Ellen’s for the weekend. She lived in a sleek apartment in downtown Metropolis. From the balcony, I could see the skyline jut out over the bay. I’d sit up there and watch the city between the space in the rails: minute cars spinning across the freeway; planes tracing lines in the hazy sky; the spinning globe that topped the Daily Planet.
Auntie Ellen thought I was asleep that night, but I’d snuck out to the balcony. I listened to the sirens ripple far away and counted the lights that flickered in the office towers downtown. I tucked my knees to my chest and imagined living with Auntie Ellen forever. Instead of the brown soccer field behind my house, I could have the entire city of Metropolis. I could swap mom and dad’s arguing - always muffled through the wall - for Auntie Ellen’s soft laugh. Living in Metropolis would be nothing short of paradise.
While I was lost in thought, I saw the thing that every kid always dreamed of: Superman. He flew lazily through the warm summer night, his cape, though dirty, fluttering behind him. He must’ve been coming back for a mission.
He turned to me, with that slick hair and thousand-watt smile, and waved.
I jumped to my feet and waved back.
He saluted me - an acknowledgment that I was also watching over the city.
I stood at attention and saluted him back. I’d be here; the city needed me. From then on, I would be another sworn protector of Metropolis.
Superman winked, turned his attention back in front of him, and sped up.
As quickly as he started to accelerate, he stopped. He hung in the sky for a moment, his cape floated for a fraction of a second, before the gravity pushed him down.
His limbs flailed, helpless, as he plummeted to the ground.
I gripped the railing of Auntie Ellen’s apartment and peered down below. My legs were shaking and my breath felt tight.
Superman hit the pavement below. He didn’t stand up.
---
/r/liswrites | 2019-02-19T11:22:07 | 2019-02-19T10:19:36 | 247 | 86 |
[WP] In a world of incredible heroes and villains, you have the most dangerous power of all: forcing actual, real world logic and physics to take place
2/19/19: Woah! I look away for a few minutes and suddenly 1000 likes! Thanks you guys!
2/19/19: Holy God! 6.5k likes?! Awesome! | It was, of course, another super power. I knew that. In my youth, what ever I believed strongly simply happened. My parent, valuing education, had promoted STEM subjects, and I had excelled. Mostly, expecting the world to work according to logic and physics had made me an unremarkable person. A competent engineer at best.
Until... The advent of the mutants, with their own reality bending powers, had brought the world to the brink of disaster. The first time I got involved, I was watching TV. There was an iceman. Spraying ice everywhere. Sucking the energy out of the world until it froze solid. I did a couple of calculations on the back of an envelope... So about 40,000Kj in an area of hmmm, say 1 meter cubed. Anyway, iceman exploded in a fiery mess. Soon it turned out that I just needed to assess someone to bring them back to reality, so to speak. Some of it was pretty gory, like the super strong. Pelvic Bones breaking, bursting into flame, sinking into the ground, that sort of thing. Others were sad. Telekinesis really makes a mess if you move something heavy. All that power needing to be dissipated, all that water in the brain coming to the boil. Ugh.
Turns out that the law of thermodynamics really messes with these guys. This did unleash a whole new type of supervillain. They used persuasion and charm and dishonesty, and however irrational their influence, I couldn't control the whole population to protect them. They have a name. We call them politicians. | I killed Superman when I was eight. I didn’t mean to - obviously not - but that doesn’t change the fact it’s my fault.
I was at my Auntie Ellen’s for the weekend. She lived in a sleek apartment in downtown Metropolis. From the balcony, I could see the skyline jut out over the bay. I’d sit up there and watch the city between the space in the rails: minute cars spinning across the freeway; planes tracing lines in the hazy sky; the spinning globe that topped the Daily Planet.
Auntie Ellen thought I was asleep that night, but I’d snuck out to the balcony. I listened to the sirens ripple far away and counted the lights that flickered in the office towers downtown. I tucked my knees to my chest and imagined living with Auntie Ellen forever. Instead of the brown soccer field behind my house, I could have the entire city of Metropolis. I could swap mom and dad’s arguing - always muffled through the wall - for Auntie Ellen’s soft laugh. Living in Metropolis would be nothing short of paradise.
While I was lost in thought, I saw the thing that every kid always dreamed of: Superman. He flew lazily through the warm summer night, his cape, though dirty, fluttering behind him. He must’ve been coming back for a mission.
He turned to me, with that slick hair and thousand-watt smile, and waved.
I jumped to my feet and waved back.
He saluted me - an acknowledgment that I was also watching over the city.
I stood at attention and saluted him back. I’d be here; the city needed me. From then on, I would be another sworn protector of Metropolis.
Superman winked, turned his attention back in front of him, and sped up.
As quickly as he started to accelerate, he stopped. He hung in the sky for a moment, his cape floated for a fraction of a second, before the gravity pushed him down.
His limbs flailed, helpless, as he plummeted to the ground.
I gripped the railing of Auntie Ellen’s apartment and peered down below. My legs were shaking and my breath felt tight.
Superman hit the pavement below. He didn’t stand up.
---
/r/liswrites | 2019-02-19T11:44:07 | 2019-02-19T10:19:36 | 123 | 86 |
[WP] You are a normal citizen in a relatively unimportant country. One day the goverment starts to act crazy, changing ideology overnight, drafting people for the army and antagonizing their neighbours. The player controlling your country in a strategy game has just begun their world conquest run. | "Look, I'm sorry Sarge, but it still doesn't make much sense."
"I told you before Private, it's about tourism. Have you seen the statistics? If we don't strike now, the entire world will be wearing blue jeans and listening to American pop music!"
"You have an Ariana Grande playlist!"
"That's...I have no idea what you're talking about. And even if your completely spurious allegations were correct, it would be immaterial. The point is, the Chinese and Iranians aren't yet. But at the rate new film studios have been opening the past decade, it's only a matter of time. And we can't count on them to launch a naval invasion because our best intel has concluded they don't really understand how boats work. It has to be us."
"But why do we care! Blue jeans are nice! Why do we have to invade the United States... which incidentally given the size of their military and nuclear stockpile seems like an objectively terrible idea...to stop Iranians from visiting Disney World and wearing blue jeans?"
"Because going to space would take too long."
"...What does that have to do with ANYTHING!"
"Also don't tell anybody but I think I heard the brass whispering about going for Russia next."
"WHAT."
"Don't worry about it, Private. It'll be a cake walk. Intel reports that the Americans don't really know how their nukes work anyway. By the might of Ahura Mazda, we'll show them how Canadians fight!"
"This is insane...what was that last bit again?"
"Wait...the part about Ahura Mazda? The one true god of Zoroastrianism, the state religion of Canada as of 9:00 AM this morning?"
"No, who the fuck is Ahura Mazda!"
"Die heretic!"
*Blam* | Poland lived in peace with her neighbours, having only one army, and trying to keep everyone together in their little brotherhood. The Holy Roman Empire was perfectly calm, with only inter-vassal wars not involving anyone higher than a Duke or Baron. The Rus were content to do whatever they did. All was well, until that fateful day.
Jimmy powered on his PC, put on his headphones, and set up the stream. He launched Crusader Kings 2, and waited for his faithful viewers to arrive. After about ten minutes of country logistics, he began a survey to see what he should do today. The results were mostly, ‘invade everything’. He nodded and began building more Hussar training grounds.
“Włodzislaw! Włodzislaw! The levies have been raised! Come, brother!” The Pole groaned and stood up. He was dishevelled after a long week of Hussar training.
“Wh… what? Who are we fighting?” He asked his older brother.
“The Empire! We attack the Niemcy savages! Come, the Basilisca herself demanded it!” Włodzislaw quickly put his gear on and headed off with his brother.
“What’s with the sudden conflict?” He asked.
“I thought we were keeping the peace with everyone?”
“Not anymore! We march to claim the Empire for ourselves!”
As it turned out, every vassal’s levy had been raised. Armies that did not exist the previous day had been assembled faster than a horse could run, and every neighbouring country had been attacked. Rumour had it that Pruthenija had already been claimed, and Rus was next. Denmark was being sacked, and as far south as the Papal States, Polish armies were fighting against the people they once sought to protect.
Poland changed her name to ‘Imperial Poland’, and wars were happening all over Europe. The Empire fell, and France was next. Włodzislaw thought that this was insane. What had driven his peaceful country into a bloodthirsty war hound? He’d heard that even the Byzantine was crumbling, and that the soldiers set their sites on the Middle East.
“Alright, folks, that concludes the stream for today. Wow, I did *really* good, huh? Anyways, I’ll be doing Warhammer again tomorrow, and maybe some Monster Hunter on Tuesday. I’ll be hosting my girlfriend’s stream now, see y’all~” | 2019-03-10T12:43:25 | 2019-03-10T11:57:27 | 66 | 14 |
[WP] You are a normal citizen in a relatively unimportant country. One day the goverment starts to act crazy, changing ideology overnight, drafting people for the army and antagonizing their neighbours. The player controlling your country in a strategy game has just begun their world conquest run. | One month after our nation seemed to have gone mad, retooling our entire economy and declaring war on our closest ally, a package arrived at my door. Inside was a sword and armor in a style completely different from our regular military uniforms, yet accompanied by a note declaring me to be drafted.
I arrived wearing the armor and bearing the sword, at the city's armory. There, an officer told me I was now a "Hero Unit". "Congratulations, son; you're going to be one of the toughest of all our people, and one of the most important. Do you know how to view your stats?"
"My... what?"
At that point, the interface windows crowded my vision for the first time... | On mobile and also not a native speaker, so please go easy on me. Enjoy!
I couldn’t believe the news when I woke up. Our small country just declared war on our neighbors without any pretense. The army has been massively bolstered and the first few battles seemingly went in our favor. Apart from the defensive war against the blues a few years back we never fought before, always improving our economy and infrastructure. Our government always valued good living standards and a full treasury. Our armed forces always were on the weaker side number wise, but they have increased exponentially. I heard that we captured one city of the greens, who we were allied with before. Most of it was razed to the ground and what’s left is being shamelessly exploited by us. They are being oppressed by our forces there. The greens themselves were probably the weakest of our neighbors, but throwing away this long lasting mutual friendship all of the sudden sure surprised me. I heard that there were relentless bombardments on their coasts as well. I don’t think our generals even care about civilian casualties at this point. It’s only been a few hours and we have captured half of their territory already. So far so good, and while the countries of the AI-highlands shouldn’t be too much of an issue, i fear that the great nation of Player 2 wouldn’t leave us go without punishment...
| 2019-03-10T11:09:05 | 2019-03-10T09:03:58 | 22 | 14 |
[WP] After getting home from a long day at work, you find a demon sitting on your couch, sobbing hysterically, snuggling your cat, and eating from a tub of ice cream | I always knew my cat was different. The little bastard was far too smart to be a normal cat. He did things just to mess with me on a daily basis. So, when I came home from work to find a woman with horns sitting on my couch with MY ice cream in hand and my bastard cat in the other, I wasn't exactly surprised.
I closed the door and sat my briefcase down with a heavy sigh. "What's all this?"
"Oh, he said you'd be home, but I didn't believe him. He's a liar. All he does is lie and lie and--"
"Woah, hold on a second. Who are you?"
"Catize, co-ruler of the third level of hell," she said as she let my cat go and held a hand out to me. It was covered in scales and her nails glinted like knife points. I gingerly took it and only shook once before stepping back.
"Uh--nice to meet you? Why are you in my living room--?" I turned and looked at the TV and cursed. "Is that really 'You Got Mail? Did you rent that? Man, I didn't budget for that."
"He said it would be fine. It's my favorite movie," she said and sniffed. "And I'm upset."
"I can see that. Why?"
"Because he," she pointed at my cat who I swear rolled his eyes before looking at me. "Won't come home."
"He won't... come home?"
"He says--no, he's the reason you won't leave so he should know. If you can't be true to him then why are you staying with him?" She snarled and then faced the TV again. She scooped a bit of mint chocolate chip ice cream from the tub she held. I was really looking forward to that ice cream all day. It was my cheat day. "He doesn't want to leave you."
"And where would he be going if he did?"
"Back to running the third level of hell, like he was assigned to do-- Yes you were! Lucifer only gave you a thousand years off. That was up eight years ago. You were suppose to be back--you were suppose to be in my arms again but no, you want to stay because..." she turned to me and I felt a chill run down my spine at the look she gave me. "You want to stay with your best buddy."
"Um, I'm sorry, I don't really understand what's going on."
"He," she pointed at the cat with her spoon and green pieces of ice cream splattered his fur. He growled and bared his teeth. "Oh, don't start with me. This is ruining my diet."
"Okay, look, I've had a crap day and you know what, if you want to take Elvis then take him."
"You hear that, he wants you to go."
My cat stared at me, his eyes wide and I swear the bastard was giving a good try at a puppy dog look. He hopped down from the couch and for the first time since I owned him, he rubbed his body across my shins.
"You--you're disgusting," the woman shouted and tossed the spoon at both of us. She was on her feet now, a heat haze wafting off her. "You would do that in front of me? You said that you only rubbed my legs, you lying bastard."
"What the hell--"
"That's exactly it, I'm going back to hell and I'm taking the kids to my mom's. She was right, you are nothing but an asshole looking for your next bit of catnip. I can't believe you! Ten thousand years of my life gone, and for what? This fat pig of a human?"
"Hey..." I said. I had put on a few pounds, but I wasn't... fat.
"Shut it. I hope you're very happy together, and don't you come crawling back to me, you hear? I don't care how much you purr!"
The door slammed and a waft of sulfur filled my nose as a flash lit up the windows. I looked down at Elvis who was sitting between my feet, watching the door.
"This makes way too much sense," I said and he looked up at me. "Why would you stay?"
"Because you're my bro. You give me free catnip and I don't gotta take you to the fire geysers or one of Shakespeare's stupid plays," he said in a voice that was too deep for the size of cat he was.
"Right... wait, Shakespeare is in hell?"
"Duh, you don't write like that without selling your soul. Made that deal my self," he said while cleaning his fur. He stopped after a few seconds and looked back up to me. "I'm hungry," he said and went to the kitchen.
I sighed and went to fetch the can opener. | Left eye twitching, Sammy glared at the strange occupant of her home. She's had a long day at work, starting with the bi- no, the *chaste* Evith irritating her to no end. Then her dull rock of a partner didn't show up at work without letting anyone know, leaving the work of two people for her to deal with.
Now, in her home was a red small demon with two horns and wings folded up. *It* was sitting on *her* couch, snuggling *her* cat! Miss FluffBottom was her snuggle budy and only hers. And she would be damned before a demon did so, on her couch!
Stomping forward with a rolled up newspaper, her eyes burning with determination to swat the diminutive demon like a fly, her movement caught its attention. But, instead of the glorious battle she was expecting, the demon looked up with tear stained eyes then started sobbing like a baby.
Frozen in her spot, a feeling of guilt struck her as it pushed its baby smooth face into the fur of her purring cat; the traitor was clearly enjoying the attention!
Hiccuping in sorrow, the demon looked back up. Sniffing back a string of mucus hanging from its nose, it opened its mouth showing her a set of perfectly normal teeth instead of the maw of death she expected.
"I-I am sorry, Miss. Your cat just reminds me of my three-headed Catberus. He was always willing to give me a hug," said the small demon with the voice of a child.
In the moment, Samny's mouth moved before she could stop it. A horrible habit that has gotten her into too much trouble over the years. Especially when your boss was Evith the bi-, the chaste!
"What happened to your... *three-headed* Catberus?" A bit of disbelief tinging her words, but that was quickly put out of her mind. She was talking to a demon for crying out loud, anything is possible now.
Like a broken dam, the demon child's waterworks began again. Again, it pusbed its face on to Miss FluffBottom's fur. The traitor had a look of pure bliss on its cat features. Walking towards the demon, Sammy hesitated for a bit, but her maternal instinct s took over. Patting the demon's head, careful to not poke herself with the crown of horns on its, no, his head.
"They killed her! They killed everybody," said the boy in hysteria, voice cracking every time a heart-wrenching sob tore past his throat.
"They killed papa, and mama, and sister, and even Gragous,"
Looking back up, the boy stared deeply into her eyes. A question she knew was coming echoed in them. Before she could say anything to change the direction of the conversation, he spoke with such an innocent voice her heart tore to a million pieces hearing it.
"Miss, why did they hurt them?"
Cursing under her voice, her mind was going a million miles per second trying to come up with something the child could believe. But again, her lack of on the spot thinking proved as fatal as a battle of words with the bi-, the chaste.
"Miss," said the child, so much hope and expectations in his words.
"Papa said I should give this to the a nice person, and they would help me get my home back," said the boy as he pulled out a black orb, with white lightning running across its surface, from under his wing.
"He said it would give them *so* much power. A-and your really nice, you even let me snuggle with your kitty. Please, oh please, help me!" He said as his eyes widened into puppy eyes.
Cursing again under her breath, she didn't know how she was supposed to say no, so with reluctance she nodded her head. The pure joy and innocence the boy showed made her head whirl in an endless circle. How could someone so innocent, pure, and *naive* possibly exist?
"O-okay," said Sammy, bitting her lip, she knew this was going to give her a ton of trouble.
With an enormous childish smile, he pushed the orb towards her. Sammy extended her hand, touching the black thing. For a second she felt a tiny zap and some resistance to her hand, but they quickly disappeared. She felt like she put her hand into disgusting goop.
For a second nothing happened, but that changed and rapidly. The black viscous thing seemed to be absorbed by her hand, and within a minute it existed no longer. The only sign of it passing was the black blood vessels running up her arm and under her shirt.
"Oh, that wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," said Sammy with a relieved sigh. But that was dashed into pieces by the boys next words.
"Oh, I, umm, kinda forgot to tell you what my papa said to say,"
Looking at him with skeptical eyes, her mouth pushed out into a frown.
"He said, umm, it will hurt-"
That was with the pain hit, and it came in as hard as a run away train. Her body spasmed, eyes began darkening, and brain felt like it was being torn to shreds. It took way to long, but unconsciousness finally came. The last things she heard was the boy's worried voice and Miss FluffBottom's desperate call for more attention.
That traitor! | 2019-04-06T18:06:05 | 2019-04-06T15:33:50 | 232 | 45 |
[WP] You're a Super Villian, and honestly it isn't a bad job. But one hero always harasses you even when you're off the clock. Walking in the park, in the grocery store, getting a haircut, he always wants to 'Stop your evil plan'. You're left with one option: Complain to his manager. | “Look all I’m saying is, do you Really think a harassment report is necessary?”
I stared at the SuperTech Inc Limited HR rep like he was the moron I knew him to be.
“I just spent 30 minutes going over less than a QUARTER of the harassing things Speed McQueen over there has done in the past YEAR.”
“Hey now lets not use slurs.”
“... that’s literally his god damn Super Name. Did you even read any part of my report?”
“Look. (exaggerated sigh) it’s just that when these reports get filed there’s a big investigation, a lot of resources and man hours are wasted, permanent marks are made on records... it’s just a big hoobaloo over what’s probably a misunderstanding.”
The HR Rep, Tod, was smiling in a placating manner. I wanted very much to punch his teeth into his throat.
“I find it extremely disconcerting you are automatically assuming that this is a misunderstanding, and that the investigation will be a waste. This fucking asshole, don’t pardon my language, is a god damn CREEP!”
“Look you’re starting to get hostile, I’m not going to talk to a hostile employee.”
I could see where he was going, and I felt vindicated that I had delayed making a report for this long. Villains NEVER were listened to by corporate. File a report for extreme use of force? “Oh don’t be such a baby, your contract include physical violence.” File a report for stalking? “It’s literally their job to track you!” File a report for sexual harassment? “Heroes wouldn’t do that!”
So I had waited and collected evidence until I was absolutely SURE they couldn’t ignore me. And here I was, arguing with some low level HR pinhead about whether or not the report I had filed by filling out fifty god damn forms, “really needed to be filed.”
I took several deep breaths, pulled out my cell phone, and clicked on the bright green “GO” button taking up half the screen. Then I turned to phone towards Tod.
“Look Tod. I get it. I signed up to be a villain, I get the shit end of the stick but the hours are guaranteed and the healthcare is pretty good. What I didn’t sign up for was being stalked, harassed, and physically and emotionally damaged by some fuckwhit in a spandex onesie. If you had read even the first ten pages of my report you would see that this motherfucker showed up to my thanksgiving party with my family. He showed up at my first christmas with my kids since my bitch ex-wife left me for a dentist and speed mcfuckinqueen opened every single gift looking for weapons or some shit. I was on jury duty last year and he showed up in court and told the judge I wasn’t a reliable citizen.”
“The list literally goes on and on! Our contracts establish clear lines between work and civilian life! He shows up at my second job selling Used Cars every single fucking day and drives away customers! I have had ten fucking jobs in a year because of this mentally deficient asshole! So now, because of you, TOD, I am broadcasting every single video recording, audio recording, 911 call, and record of hero on villain crime that has ever been recorded. Ever. And I will continue broadcasting this on every single media medium until SuperTech Inc Limited does something about it.”
Tod’s face has gone from surprisingly pale to deathly pale.
“But. But. Your NDA.”
“FUCK THE NDA TOD! And especially, TOD, fuck you HR DIPSHITS. I’m broadcasting this too!”
I left the building, and for all of two seconds I was happy. Then I was suddenly blacking out as something smashed into me and my body accelerated at 12g’s. My last thought was,
“God damn FUCKING Speed McQueen.” | We all have bosses. In a world fuelled by money, it was only natural that the world of heroes and villains would be funded by the elite. I have my orders, heroes have theirs. It's the way the world works - it's how we keep society on its feet, subduing everyone with the fear of war. War follows the clouds around the world, puts countries in hot weather yet gives release to others. I'm a major cause to disruption when my bosses don't like how things are working.
Naturally, like the weather, I can go with days of calm. I don't need to do much. I wait in the shadows, refreshing myself in my precious free time when I'm not raining down the wrath of Hell on innocent people for money (and fun).
But I have a fan. An annoying fan. He's a teenager, a hopeful baffoon who is blinded to how this world truly works. Does their naivety* make them believe they get lucky when someone sponsors them to help defeat evil? No, it's a decision that solely benefits the bosses. But these lowlife dumb heroes don't understand a single thing.
I went to shop for a nice dinner. He causes a ruckus. I can't go back to that grocer. I wanted a trim and I had to burn the place down because he was filming me. I don't need society to know my face because that'll make me a little less effective and that's bad for business.
This kid is fucking with something that isn't his fucking business.
I know who watches him. Bob Flaboria. Fucking Bob. He sounds like a pussy but he's no pussy cat. He's a lion in a world of zebras. I killed one of his heroes once and my head was almost torn from my body. If my wealthy boss hadn't intervened and compensated Bob, I'd be dead. And that'd be boring.
And now I have to speak to him about another of his heroes.
I dial his number. It rings for a few moments and I just want to scrunch up the device in my hand but I can't. I'd just kill the hero but Bob. But fucking Bob.
"This is Bob."
"Bob. It's Zectro."
"Ah. Zectro."
"Yes. I have a problem," I find myself two seconds away from toying with Bob and burning a part of his territory but even my boss won't be able to talk him out of murdering me and all of my allies - and my boss and his allies. Basically half of the world.
It's like this. The elite is a business. You have the bosses. And then you have two departments. The goodies and the baddies. But there are many businesses. And some partner with some. Everyone has an ally who is an ally with someone else. Connections keep people alive in this world. One bad move by a supervillain like me would make this world a dull, dull place.
"A problem that I can end by ending you?" he asks. I hear children in the background. Does he have kids? Well of course he does. Who else to give up his empire to but his flesh and blood?
"A problem. Can you tell Hero Kiddo to back off when I'm free?"
"Then he wouldn't be much of a hero then would he?"
I bite my tongue. Fucking Bob.
"I don't want to kill him."
"Then don't," Bob laughs.
"You know there's no law against making them brain dead?"
Bob sniggers on the other line.
I continue, "I think it'll be bad for business if you don't sort him out. I suggest you cut your losses."
There's a thoughtful pause. I am recording the call to send to my boss anyway, just to be safe. I don't want to fuck with Bob for too long. He's a snake. He'll coil and smother. When I die, I want it quick.
"I think you'll find that you're the loss your boss wants to cut."
Fuck. It's my day off. And now I realise it's quiet. Too fucking quiet.
And now he's in front of me. Hero Kiddo. I'm here at home, sat on my sofa in my boxers. I'm full. My dishes are in the dishwasher. My clothes are outside in the sun, drying. My dog is asleep on his bed. And it's the end.
"I'm no hero, Zectro. I'm your replacement."
I guess *I* am the one who doesn't know how the world works. | 2019-08-01T17:10:53 | 2019-08-01T16:56:28 | 494 | 183 |
[WP] You're a Super Villian, and honestly it isn't a bad job. But one hero always harasses you even when you're off the clock. Walking in the park, in the grocery store, getting a haircut, he always wants to 'Stop your evil plan'. You're left with one option: Complain to his manager. | Sure, being a Super Villain is nice, but no one wants to be stuck doing evil every our of the day? When would I get my 3 meals of the day?
Here in Smalltown City, there's always been a unspoken rule for villains and heroes; No crime fighting or crime doing before 8 AM or after 8PM on weekdays, and never on weekends. Unfortunately, there is one hero who doesn't follow that rule. His name is Captain Eagle, and he's honestly a dick.
I'd be taking my dog for her monthly grooming, and this shithead will fly in through the roof, and apprehend me under the accusation of crime and for being the No-good-bank-robbing criminal seductress Black Cheetah.
He isn't wrong about being The Black Cheetah, but I'd have gone crazy if I didn't do something.
Now, by federal law, all heroes **must** have a manager to keep them in check. It's primarily to account for the safety of the country of Groveland, but managers in Smalltown City are also aware of the rule, and thus, should be enforcing it.
So what do I do? I phone his manager. I get a scheduled appointment to see Dave Thomas, a well known hero manager around the country. Supposedly, he has contracts with over 300 different heroes. Anyway, fast forward a week, and I meet Dave Thomas.
Now, what would you say if you scheduled to see a manager only to find out that he's not only incredibly handsome, but also the alter ego of Captain Eagle? | I forced my russian accent as I complained to the manager.
"It was my daughter birthday!!!!"
"Look sir, I will try talk to him, but as you know, he is "a loose cannon in the police department".
For one week all was calm, but i knew he was inside his shitty apartament, connecting those detective dots, but this is a hinder to my plan; today i will date with a girl i met in theater group in a fancy restaurant, what could possibly go wrong?
Fancy restaurant
"Komrade Kaos!!!! your plotsky was undercovered by no one other than me, detective magnifying glass !!!"
He was, as always, smelling liquor and cigars, his eyes were red, desesperate.
"It's all a comunist plot, you can fool my manager but you can't fool me- Some restaurant employee tried to remove the source of embarasment- I know everyone here is working for you!!!! Dirty red.
It was all over, my partner a glass of Vodka in my face and started to cry, saying the date was ruined, i tried to stop her, with tears in my eyes
"please, don't go"
My friend just kept looking at me, it appeared his sanity came back.
"Is....this was..... serious?"
"What have you done?"
He looked remorseful, and started to apologise. I felt bad, looking him so pathetic and zoned.
"It's okay, tovarish, sometimes is hard separate the profession of private life, here, have a bottle of Vodka let's relax".
He accepted, and was removed from the restaurant by one of the workers, not before apologising one more time. I picked the phone to talk with my partner, the russian actresss from KGB, "my date"
"Gaslighting him with western emotions was a good idea- the employees of the restaurant putted their ushankas in their heads and picked their ak-47's- now let's bring capitalism down.
One minion asked:
"Komrade, the nuke is ready. Can we fire it now?"
"Nah, soon our little friend will have his flashback, telling him we're totally fooling him since the beggining. Set the nuke to detonate midnight, да ?" | 2019-08-01T18:20:45 | 2019-08-01T17:43:19 | 50 | 28 |
[WP] start your story with a sentence that is upbeat and happy. Then end it with that same sentence but this time is dark and chilling. | They found my wife. When the police arrived I knew that was what they were going to tell me. Watching them walk from the car to my door felt like hours but in reality was probably only a few seconds.
“Sir I think you need to come with us.”
The whole car ride I thought about the last time I had seen my wife. Every summer we would go our cabin that we bought years ago in the woods. I never was big on the outdoors but she loved it. She loved it so much that she would take her coworker out there to see it when she was on her business trips.
I would discover this by using her phone one night to send a text while mine was at the store getting repaired from dropping out of my pocket on to the ground. It sent a fury in me that I have never felt before.
I didn’t say anything to her before we went on our annual vacation there. I thought I hid her body well. She was buried deep in the woods and I thought I had got away with it until they found my wife. | the sea is beautiful.
thats the only thing i could think about this whole trip. three weeks of travelling on the shoreline spending each day in a different fishing town. my friends stayed close to shore, always, but i found a new fisherman or boat lender to take me into the deep sea even if just to see the sun sinking beneath the waves.
i couldn't stop thinking about it. the crimson red wavesspreading like fire over the horison with white foam like a snowy crust over each wave.
i had to keep going day after day town after town fisherman after fisherman. all too see the buitifull crimson waves.
thats why when we got to innsmouth i ignored my friends warning about the strange inhabitents of this half empty town. they were men, after all. and that day just before sundown i set sail with a local over the devil's reef.
twighlight blazed around the little boat and over the sea whe i heard the man calling: "itry'et! ia floe rly'e battar esgriv'a!"
i didnt care at first. then claws emerged from the deep cutting into my arms and pulled me down under.
i could tell you abou the horrid fish-people thadid horrendous things to me.
but i won't.
beacuse, at least at the start, the only thing that mattered to me was the sight of the crimson waves above me. blazing with my blood.
the sea is beautiful.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
hey there its me ya boy h.p lovecraft back at it with the fish people. | 2019-09-07T06:42:32 | 2019-09-07T05:38:28 | 34 | 23 |
[WP] Humanity expanded across the galaxy and found it to be lifeless. Desiring companionship, Earth species were uplifted to sentience and scattered across the heavens. It's been millennia since mankind vanished, but the Canines still remember, still search, for those they once called master. | "Gather round small ones, I shall tell you if the old times."
The young eagerly took seats, their attention fixed on the old grey hair.
"I remember when our master lived and dwelled among us. It was an ancient time, I was strong and fast, not like I am now" he smiled with a fond feeling of nostalgia.
"They cared for us, and us for them, each in our own way. When we were hungry, they fed us, when they were overcome with grief, we lifted their spirits. Some of us were even trained in their ways, we aided them in their work."
"What was work?" One of the young pups spoke up.
The grey hair thought for a moment, his mind struggling to recall. "Sometimes one of them would go missing, so we would be asked to find them. We can always smell them, so the masters gave us the blessed mission of bringing them back."
"Did you?"
"Yes, and then a feast in our honor. They adored us, and we them-"
His speech was interrupted. The ancient portal to the outside creaked open. The room went silent, a hushed awe took over the assembled.
As light flooded in, a shape could be made out. The ones who walked on two legs were back! Jubilation erupted from all present. The young rushed to greet the master. The grey hair slowly stood up, his tail wagging, and gradually made his way over. His master met him halfway, and gave him the scratches behind his ears he had longed for for so long.
The master's speech was always difficult to parse, a few words made sense, but he didn't understand the masters talk of "groceries" or what "just an hour" meant.
He had waited, waited an eternity. And his faith had been rewarded. | “BORK!”
Candle’s voice echoed in the cavernous expanse.
The Master glyphs shimmered in the green light of the electric torch he carried in one paw while he fumbled through his pocket with the other.
“What do you think it is?” Flip wondered aloud, searching his teacher’s face for a hint of understanding.
“Rrrrr,” the esteemed masterologist rumbled. “A dead end, it seems.”
Candle brushed an eon of dust from the hull of the Master Ark and lit his kong of tobacco.
“A789. One of the earlier ships from the Age of Exodus.”
Flip turned his gaze to the massive metal wreck, his snout ajar. His eyes welled up with all the wonder he’d felt as a pup when he had first learned about their progenitors.
“No one could have survived an impact like this. Not even the Masters,” Candle opined, and turned his attention to the far end of the cave.
“So this isn’t it, then?” Flip’s expression dropped, a soft wimper hanging in the air.
Candle had already begun scooting down toward the cave floor.
“No. Sadly, it is not.”
Flip obediently followed.
As they approached the far end of the cave, the darkness gave way to torchlight.
“P-Professor Candle!!”
“I see it.” Candle’s eyes narrowed as he assumed the instinctive pointing stance.
In a small nook, the skeleton of a Master slumped against a rock. Above him, glyphs.
“An incredible discovery, Flip. Transcribe the text in its entirety—we must return at once!”
As Flip scritched the glyphs onto his notepad, Candle pattered backwards to take in the moment and let its magnitude wash over him. A career made. A life lived. Dog-years of study and searching vindicated.
He read the glyphs again, carefully, slowly.
“Heaven Was a Place on Earth”
He could not believe it. His tail wagged like it had never wagged before—as if it were wagging him.
Flip turned to Candle. “What does it mean?”
Candle locked eyes with the pup.
“It means, the search is over. It means after all these millennia, we finally know our true place in the cosmos.”
Flip turned back to the marks scrawled on the cave walls.
A silence came over them for a moment, before Candle repeated the ancient Master commandment for his apprentice:
“All good bois go to Heaven.” | 2020-03-10T02:48:25 | 2020-03-09T22:17:34 | 164 | 116 |
[WP] Humanity expanded across the galaxy and found it to be lifeless. Desiring companionship, Earth species were uplifted to sentience and scattered across the heavens. It's been millennia since mankind vanished, but the Canines still remember, still search, for those they once called master. | "Gather round small ones, I shall tell you if the old times."
The young eagerly took seats, their attention fixed on the old grey hair.
"I remember when our master lived and dwelled among us. It was an ancient time, I was strong and fast, not like I am now" he smiled with a fond feeling of nostalgia.
"They cared for us, and us for them, each in our own way. When we were hungry, they fed us, when they were overcome with grief, we lifted their spirits. Some of us were even trained in their ways, we aided them in their work."
"What was work?" One of the young pups spoke up.
The grey hair thought for a moment, his mind struggling to recall. "Sometimes one of them would go missing, so we would be asked to find them. We can always smell them, so the masters gave us the blessed mission of bringing them back."
"Did you?"
"Yes, and then a feast in our honor. They adored us, and we them-"
His speech was interrupted. The ancient portal to the outside creaked open. The room went silent, a hushed awe took over the assembled.
As light flooded in, a shape could be made out. The ones who walked on two legs were back! Jubilation erupted from all present. The young rushed to greet the master. The grey hair slowly stood up, his tail wagging, and gradually made his way over. His master met him halfway, and gave him the scratches behind his ears he had longed for for so long.
The master's speech was always difficult to parse, a few words made sense, but he didn't understand the masters talk of "groceries" or what "just an hour" meant.
He had waited, waited an eternity. And his faith had been rewarded. | As the science ship broke orbit from the planet BRK-413C, the science team gathered together in a circle around the navigation map. Each of them sat on their own, pillow. The captain, Buddy Barkhouser, a large Airedale with long chin beard, and the science team leader Dogtor Maggie Diskchaser, a black Labrador with impossibly shiny fur, exchanged quick sniffs as greetings. The debriefing would soon start after almost 3 years of research on site and undercover. This system was deep inside the DMZ with the Felidae kingdom. They mustn't risk any exposure. The vessel finally cut the burn after having matched orbit with an asteroid to shelter it from unwanted attention. In the last few years, the Felidae had many patrols.
"All right Maggie, tell me what results do we have. I read your preliminary report about the colony of The Masters, but it is very vague. Can you please elaborate?"
"Yeah. What we found was, is probably the most important scientific breakthrough, ever. If you just look directly at the data, all you can find is one of the largest colonies they had. Not the biggest, but top 30 easily. What is more interesting is their technology. It is ancient. And I don't mean it the way that everything theirs is ancient. Compared to *them* it is ancient. It was a lucky accident we noticed it. More accurately my assistant, Bailey Goodboi noticed it, when he landed next to one of their buildings and it collapsed. Normally, their buildings are nearly indestructible, but this one just crumpled into itself. On closer examination, it turned out that the building technique and material is quite different. It was his idea to take a radiocarbon dating from the building. And the results just came back."
"Well, Dogtor please, stop pulling our tail and just tell us the results" Barked XO Daisy Parkwalker, just before the captain could have. Maggie continued:
"This is their oldest colony yet, and by a lot, dating back more than six thousand years. This is three times as old as the second oldest colony we found. This, is quite possibly their first colony. I suggest we take a look around the closest systems, our Masters' home system must be nearby. Captain, which is the closest solar system?"
"The BRK-420, just outside of the DMZ. Do you suggest we set sail?"
"Full speed Captain. We set sail at full speed." | 2020-03-10T02:48:25 | 2020-03-10T02:16:00 | 164 | 37 |
[WP] As the heroes of the city lay on the ground, the villain leans in and whispers “It’s funny how Dad always thought I was the weakest.” | At a mere four-years-old, my father already proclaimed me a useless runt. He tossed me out in the snow to see if I could forage on my own. Of course, rather than fulfill his ridiculous expectations, I pawed at the door until my mother could not take any more and went against my father’s instruction to leave me out. She wrapped me up in a bundle of cloth and placed me before the fire.
It was on that night that my father and mother argued in the hallway, their shadows flickering on the wall. I remember only snatches of their conversation.
“He’s only a young boy⸺can’t⸺”
“⸺Alice and Miranda could⸺failure⸺”
What I do know is that my mother tucked me into bed that night, but not before rocking me on her knee and murmuring sweet songs. She laid me in my bed and caressed me gently before turning off the lights.
I never saw her again after that. Alice, my older sister, and Miranda, my father’s sister, both told me that it was my fault. I can’t say that I disagreed with them, but at the time it felt awfully unfair for them to say that when my father’s part in all this was evident. Being a useless runt, though, I could not voice my opinion without punishment.
At ten, my father brought Britte home. She was about my age, perhaps two years older, and was becoming a real villainess. He meant for her to serve as an example for me, but I was too different to copy her. While she could collect and release light, I had an as-of-yet undiscovered power. Though I suppose we both know it now, hm?
Despite that, I filed some of her strategies away in my head, not really planning to use them. You see, I wanted to become a teacher. Perhaps my father’s terrible job at teaching me had made me romanticize the idea of a *real* teacher.
Seeing this, my father decided that he could, at the very least, attempt to force me to court Britte in hopes of having her under his control as well. It was Miranda, to my surprise, who stopped him, though it was not in an attempt to protect me. Rather, she thought Britte too good to marry me. Thus, she left us after two years.
A year after that, when I was thirteen, my power was discovered. I could transfer injuries inflicted on my person onto another. It was a quite unfortunate power for me to have, in fact, and my father consistently took Alice and I to the city, where we robbed banks and other government facilities. If a superhero appeared, I was used as a shield, then was to transfer the wound onto the hero.
It was at fifteen, when I was a gangly teenager, that I met Mr. Basin. Alice and my father had left me alone, and Mr. Basin, who happened to be a teacher, found me wandering the streets alone and brought me to the police. I asked him all possible questions about his job, and my passion to become a teacher was only fanned higher. Unfortunately for me and Mr. Basin, my father found him taking me to the police station.
I can never get the image of his head splattered against the cobblestones.
At twenty, I re-entered the city. But night school (how, I did not know) and get a fast food job in the meantime. Yet I made a fatal mistake in my plans. I was apprehended by police for loitering, and my cover as a villain’s son was blown. I was to be arrested, and I willingly went with them, but alas, my arm was cut and I was accused of attacking the officers.
I was discriminated against due to my ancestry, and my hopes were dashed. It was evident that in this world I could come to no good. Thus, I decided to destroy this wretched world which gave me this solemn fate. I had no question in my mind that it was the only way.
Perhaps you’ve heard of Alice’s fate.
Or rather, I’m certain you have.
After all, mother, you’ve been keeping tabs on us all this time, haven’t you? You and your band of heroes?
Well, I’ve won.
The runt has won.
And I will never again be afraid. | The royal city of the island burned after midnight. Not far in the distance, Ano heard screams. Choked and strangled. Everything was on fire--it had to be. The acrid scent of smoke flooded Ano’s nose and his throat burned as he struggled to catch his breath. Had everything always hurt like this? His lungs screamed, his head pounded, and a sharp pain blossomed up from his ribs to his shoulder on his right side. Underneath him, the grass offered brief and cool relief.
“It’s funny how Father always thought I was the weakest,” Kimo said. His voice was low, just a little more than a whisper, and full of venom.
Ano didn’t open his eyes. The world was too bright. Everything hurt. Where were the others? They’d gone to evacuate the city--to lead the people down to the shore. He could only hope the rescue boats from Hilo and the neighbouring villages would reach his people before the flames.
But someone should have come for him by now. They hadn’t. They weren’t going to. Ano took a shaky breath. He was on his own.
“You thought I was weak, too,” Kimo continued. “You and your little *friends* off playing heroes while I was stuck here.”
Ano pressed his lips into a hard line. He needed a plan.
“I almost wish he was alive to see me now,” Kimo droned on. “King Kimo of the Island. It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
*And there it is.* Ano found the chink in Kimo’s armour. He opened his eyes to the palace garden. The palms swayed in the breeze and, against the side of the building, bushes of multicoloured hibiscus nearly glowed in the moonlight.
The volcano surged and bubbled again. Ash drifted in the air like black snow.
“You’ll never be king,” Ano said. He tried to keep his voice even and not wince as he got to his feet. “You can take the crown, but the people will never accept you. The truth is that you’re still weak, underneath it all.”
“I am *not,*” spat Kimo. “I control the volcano--I am *power*. I am might.”
“And underneath it all, you’re still afraid.”
“The people will never accept you,” Ano repeated.
“They’ll kneel before their king or die.”
“You know, for as much as resent Father, you’re exactly like him.” Ano balled his hand in a fist and readied himself for a fight--both in body and mind.
“I am *not*.” The flames in the distance rose.
“You are. You’re obsessed with power. With might and weakness. You’re never going to be free until you let it go.”
“Try and play your games. You’re not walking out of here.” Kimo’s eyes narrowed. His dark hair was sleeked back and away from his face, highlighting his sharp bones.
Ano pushed his own hair out of his eyes. He knew he must be a sight--wild hair and ashed-darkened skin and torn robes and bruised side. “You brought your fight here. Were you too afraid to face me by the sea?”
“Shut up.” He lowered his stance. “I will raze this island if I have to.”
“So what? You can be the King of ashes?”
Kimo lunged. The volcano surged again. Hot bubbles of lava rained down on the land, burning the grasses and flowers.
Ano rolled out the way. Kimo was all heat and anger--his movements were as predictable as the rest of them. With every fist and kick that Ano side-stepped, his brother’s anger grew more palpable.
“Fight me,” Kimo yelled. “You coward.” The line between his eyebrows deepened. Fire caught on the palm trees and the pillars. Within minutes, the palace would be under the same blanket of flames as the rest of the city.
Ano didn’t want to fight his brother, but he would. He needed to. But not now--his people needed him. “I won’t play this game,” he said. “Father might’ve started it, but you’re putting down all the same cards. Don’t you see it!”
“Fight me,” Kimo repeated with a roar.
Ano frowned and shook his head. “I’m going to the sea. My people need me.”
“If you leave, then I take the crown. I *win.* I have absolute power.”
Ano’s eyes darted toward the far gate. He’d have to sprint, but he’d make it. “After all these years, you still don’t understand.”
And with that, he split into a run over the dirt and between the licks of flames. He needed the tidal power of the ocean. And his people needed him.
---
/r/liswrites | 2020-05-10T13:58:22 | 2020-05-10T11:50:14 | 27 | 17 |
[WP] You being the cemetery caretaker, always treat the graves and the dead with utmost care. So when the zombie apocalypse begins, you find it surprising that they do not attack you but instead help protect you. | I worked the graveyard shift, quite literally. During warm and cold night under a starlit sky I attended our local graveyard. My only task was to sit in my office, walk a round halfway through the night and sleep for the rest. That's was my precursor told me.
But, that'd get boring, wouldn't you agree? I realised this on my first day, seeing all the graves, all the lives gone by. So many memories and stories lay beneath my feet-- It would've been a waste to ignore them!
So, I started looking up information. Books, archives, asking the locals and scouring the Internet. From the grave closest to my office to the dilapidated stones at the back, I slowly pieced together every soul that time had tried so hard to weather.
During the process I'd sit with the deseased as I learned more about them. Hobbies, friends, marks they may have left on the world. I'd buy them little gifts or attempt to draw them when they were young. On their birthdays I'd get them something they would've enjoyed, lit a candle and get them a piece of cake (and one for myself, of course)
The village had mostly cast me out by now. I got paid, but people avoided me like the plague. I smelled of death and the wild, and often the folks would hear me whisper in the night-- I was insane, obviously.
Then, something changed. A phone notification in the middle of the night. A news report, then another, and another. The living dead, rising from their graves, seeking vengeance or something along those lines. The village got evacuated, I was left behind. The villagers were convinced I caused this.
Lo and behold, the dead rose that same night. Skeletons digging themselves out of their eternal beds, zombies smashing caskets, swirls of animated ash rising from the ground.
Other than that, little changed. Some went to inhabit their old homes, others went back to sleep during the day. Whenever a horde of undead showed up they'd be warded off, told that there was nothing left. 'To feed, head East towards the greater cities.'
And that is that. I tend to my farm during the day, visiting the graveyard every other day. Ghosts and ghouls water my crops at night and harvest if they're feeling particularly kind.
Though, with the Internet, radio and TV being completely gone for years, I do wonder how the rest of the world is holding up? | Six months after the sun refused to rise, when memories of gold and fire dawn skies where already fading, the dead broke their silence. I was the first to witness the morbid surrealism of it all, as cadavers walked upright through the silver fog that hung over Moreno cemetery. The first deaths of the Dark Purge were announced on the radio soon after, and the presenter had wept as it tried to describe the horror. God forbid you ever hear a panic atta ck on the radio. The voice had said that the dead were almost as well preserved as they were in life. Their bones hadn't turned to powder. Their skin was pale but without the sign of wear or year. It was a peaceful town full of souls that had never killed before. How could they wreak violence over beings that looked human?
My hand trembles with guilt as I write to say that this was my fault. But to a man who has spent 24 years tending to the departed, spent sleepless nights overturning the cold earth for a familiar face, living with the unholy thoughts of their shriveled, ravaged bodies decomposing in the dirt, I decided to turn death into art. Do we not write sad songs when we are afraid, or hurt? Does a bird not sing in the confines of a suffocating cage? Why then should I have to keep my sorrows inside me?
The ancient Egyptians found ways to keep their dead intact, so that they may meet Ra without shame. It may seem grotesque at first, but first, a steel hook attached to a string must be inserted through the nose to pull out every vital organ. The organs corrode the fastest and their fluids and moisture often contribute greatly to the foul odor of death. Slowly, I became fascinated with the almost ritualistic reverence afforded to the Egyptian dead. The embalming. The ceremonial jars for the organs. The herbs and their aromas to ward off the stench. It was all terrifyingly beautiful. While the living slept, I unwittingly breathed a part of my soul into the dead.
Every night, I hear footsteps as I hold the covers over my face. It feels peculiar to write this, but I am more afraid that the footsteps belong to the living than to the dead. Once, four of the townsmen sneaked in with pitchforks to punish me for tampering with death. But even before cold iron could touch a hair on my head, they were ripped to shreds by the dead. How does someone make sense after knowing that the dead keep him alive?
Today, as the Unholy War approaches its 50th day, I realize that a half-life is no life at all. I am dead to the living. I am living to the dead. Neither wants me to be a part of them. So where does that leave me?
This note is the only remaining shred from a diary that I burnt to ash. To anyone who is unfortunate enough to find this, do me a favor – tell the world I am sorry. Bury me as I am and will be – withered and ugly. There is no art, no beauty in death. Death is just, death. | 2020-05-12T13:50:34 | 2020-05-12T13:38:22 | 295 | 35 |
[WP] When you gain a superpower it is a reflection of your inner self, good people tend to get typical 'good' powers such as flight while bad people get 'bad' powers such as mind control. Oddly enough the top superhero and supervillain each have powers that seemingly do not suit them at all | Ever since the Great Event, people have been developing powers when they reach puberty. It opened up a whole new field of study for everyone and changed the world in numerous ways.
Scientists and psychologists spent a decade, at least, trying to find a pattern to who gets which powers. And they more or less have it down pat, I’d say, since it tends to happen that people in certain fields always have the same type of powers; no one forced them to choose the job they did. But they gravitate towards those jobs anyway. The people who can take away pain with a touch, tend to become Doctors, Psychologists, or religious figures; those with the power of the sun in their hands tend to become gardeners, or they get jobs at the tanning salons.
Some powers are a bit more complicated than that, some people who can cause pain with just a touch become criminals, and others go to work at the hospitals, trying to see if they can rehabilitate the disabled.
A pair of twins who turned out to have electricity at their fingertips went opposite ways, one of them got a job with the local mobster as an enforcer, and the other works as a defibrillator, helping people with heart problems at the hospital.
It wasn’t really a surprise when people tried their hand at becoming either superheroes or supervillains; who could be surprised that the person who can fly, the one with super strength, and the one who got super speed teamed up? They tried to take the Justice League name but got sued for copyright infringement, so they became the Society for Men of Heroism, but personally, I don’t think S.Me.H. really rolls of the tongue that well.
What *was* a bit of a surprise was when the local supervillain didn’t seem to be using any powers, at all. He could fly, but used a jet pack for that, which honestly, I didn’t know was possible in real life. It wasn’t until one of his allies got injured on the field that we found out what his power is; and boy, were we all shocked when he put his hand on his ally and healed him in seconds.
The press had a field day for weeks over a super villain with the power to heal. How could that be possible? After all the studies done by scientists and psychologists which said otherwise. Then we found out his identity, and it all became more clear; he was a doctor whose wife and kids were killed by accident when S.Me.H. was just getting started. They tried to stop a car accident and just made it worse; who could have imagined that people with powers and no training could make a mess of things, right?
In the end, we had to throw out all the books; scientists and psychologists were wrong, we don’t get our powers based on how naturally good we are, and powers don’t force us to do anything we don’t want to. Super powers can’t change human nature. We’re all either good or evil by our own choice, and we all have the power to make the world a worse or better place, no matter what our super power is. | You know what they say
"You can't judge people by their first apperance"
I always thought how wrong this is. This girl has a mind control ability. And she literally use his boyfriend's ability to fly as a taxi service. Does he even know he got abused? Unbelieveable.
That's also why there are heros. Because of how various powers for indiviuals, heros also have less strict use of their powers. I think the one who has it worse are medical workers and law forces. You need to know if the patience has ability to control cold before examine the illness. Also, is it really fair put 60 years jail time for someone who can regenerate any wounds, therefore has a longer life span?
Which makes you wonder, what kind of personality someone has if they have fast regeneration? Are they such a good person that throw their lifes away to save people? Or do they just so depressed and bullied thus wanted to kill themselves so they gain the ability?
Oh, right. Yes, you heard it right. People gain ability according to their personality.
Neat, huh? Although not now...
It's like puberty. When you personality sets, you gain your superpower. I read a book once that basicly says "A person is same at their 7 and their 70. The only change is the character development, not the core."
I'm not really that philosophycal though. But This book keep my interest after i notice something strange. I come across the top superhero and supervillians conflict, in a police station. It seems their children fallen love with each other and cause a ruckus so now i, as a random police officer, have to interfare their relationship.
Not because i'm any special, really. I just happen to answer the call when they call the police. So now i need to talk to them not as a force to help the superhero against supevillian but as a police officer who's suppose to take no side and establish in a civillian parents way "they are just kids"
How do i know they are the top superhero and supervillian despite not knowing their real names? You guessed it. Their superpowers. Because they are so distinct and not really suit their over the top titles.
Can you believe it? The superhero has the ability to harness darkness. While the supervillian has the abilitiy to harness light. Aren't they superhero and supervillian? How can their powers are so opposite AND against their titles. I saw in the news how that darkness save and protect people in a dark spare while there is basicly a rain of burning light that melts everything they touched.
"I don't want my child to anywhere near them!" said the top superhero in a calculative tone. Just like his ability his calmness send my spine chills.
"Hell no! It is I who don't want anything related to you, you edgy hair" respond the top supervillian. Funny how i never realized the haircut. It's really represent the "edgy darkness"
Honestly, if i wouldn't know they can vaporize me in that spot it looks like two parents who just upset because their kids are in their rebellious phase. Huh, when i put it that way i guess i'm a little bit more calmed so the response came over to my tounge almost without any effort
"Kids these days do this kind of things all the time. If you can consult them a psychologist i'm sure it would turn out fine."
Their gaze went through me. Honestly, i shouldn't said that. Who knows if they got the money to pay a psychologist or not. But...they seem to agree with me?
"Fine" said both of them at the same time. I can feel their blood still boils down with their anger but it seems they agreed my propose? Wow, okay. Everything went better than expected. | 2020-06-15T09:50:13 | 2020-06-15T06:38:30 | 363 | 93 |
[WP] When you gain a superpower it is a reflection of your inner self, good people tend to get typical 'good' powers such as flight while bad people get 'bad' powers such as mind control. Oddly enough the top superhero and supervillain each have powers that seemingly do not suit them at all | \[Poem\]
Healer Harry Healed the sick,
the injured and the cursed
What Healer Harry asked in return
made Healer Harry the worst.
A family, rich in all but health
Healer Harry would find.
He'd heal the heir and make him strong
and walk away, owning their mine.
An ambulance would race across the town,
Healer Harry not far in back.
He would fix the broken victim's spine
If they empty their bank account into a sack.
A boy born blind to a single mum
Healer Harry would make him see.
Harry asked no coin or cash from them,
but slipped mum the hotel key.
Healer Harry's justice arrived.
A Hero finally laid him low
when Captain Cancer Charlie came to town
and made his tumor grow. | Sorry if formatting is weird, on mobile. A little peek at those not famous in a world like that!
Humming brightly in the morning sun, she picked a seed out of her apron pocket, identified it and closed her hands around it. Her eyes closed gently, and the humming got a little louder. She opened her eyes and hands, smiling at the small sprout beaming up at her. Placing it snugly into the fresh dirt, she shuffled over a few inches, and pulled another seed out of her apron.
Elaine had lived in her small countryside cabin ever since her powers had developed. She left her abusive husband, took the girls with her and bought the cabin in cash. The man selling it hadn’t asked any questions, and she hadn’t given any answers. Fields spread for acres behind it, but she started small, just to supply a small booth in the farmer’s market. She had no desire to be rich, or ruin the delicate economy of a small town farmer’s market with her powers. So much time spent wishing she could help her girls grow into the women they deserved to be, so long helping the kids at her high school get the help they so desperately needed, she hadn’t even noticed her powers manifest. The principal had come into her office one day, and commented on the astounding vitality of her plants.
Elaine thanked her,
“I just try my best.” | 2020-06-15T11:56:52 | 2020-06-15T10:13:33 | 30 | 21 |
[WP] When you gain a superpower it is a reflection of your inner self, good people tend to get typical 'good' powers such as flight while bad people get 'bad' powers such as mind control. Oddly enough the top superhero and supervillain each have powers that seemingly do not suit them at all | \[Poem\]
Healer Harry Healed the sick,
the injured and the cursed
What Healer Harry asked in return
made Healer Harry the worst.
A family, rich in all but health
Healer Harry would find.
He'd heal the heir and make him strong
and walk away, owning their mine.
An ambulance would race across the town,
Healer Harry not far in back.
He would fix the broken victim's spine
If they empty their bank account into a sack.
A boy born blind to a single mum
Healer Harry would make him see.
Harry asked no coin or cash from them,
but slipped mum the hotel key.
Healer Harry's justice arrived.
A Hero finally laid him low
when Captain Cancer Charlie came to town
and made his tumor grow. | I used to believe that I had a weird power. If you know about Moira from Overwatch I promise I didn’t just steal the idea from her. The game wasn’t even in concept yet at the time I believed I had this ability. Anyway, the ability I thought I had was that I could steal with my left hand and give with my right. By this I mean steal literally anything, and give literally anything. If I wanted to I could steal years of something’s life. If I wanted to I could give years of my life to something else as well. I think it was mostly the hallucinations I had most of my life that led me to believe I had this ability, but something I realized in all of my delusions was that giving isn’t necessarily good and taking isn’t really bad. If I gave you disease that would be just as bad as taking life, and if I stole your disease that would be just as good as giving you life. I don’t know what kind of thing this ability would mean in terms of my personality since anyone can give or take anything they want, but it kind of made me afraid to give or take things. I think I’ve gotten over it since, but around the time of the realization I had where giving can be just as bad as taking and taking can be just as good as giving it made me more hesitant to give people things or take things without permission. | 2020-06-15T11:56:52 | 2020-06-15T09:43:33 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] When summoning a demon, something very unexpected happens. The demon bellows through the fire and smoke, “Who dares to call upon me, Mortal- wait.. dude, is that really you?” The demonic voice immediately switches to the familiar voice of your high school best-friend, who died years ago. | "Wait. What? So, are you a demon now, or were you a demon then?"
"I guess.…I don't know?"
"Are you my pirate demon then?"
"Are you serious? You were trying to summon a pirate demon… like to plunder the seas and shit?"
"I don't know, we live on an island, we got stuff to do… or you used to live on this island Ricky, I mean, what the hell?"
"Hell, well, maybe that's part of it. I know that I'm like in some afterlife tech support thingamabob. So, man what have you been up too!"
"Um, well, I got married, had kids, work as an attorney for a law-"
"WHO'S THE DEMON NOW?!"
"- firm and- yeah yeah."
"you want my soul? You need a soul?"
"okay okay. And what about you? What do you remember?"
"I remember having lunch sometimes, but mostly all the snarky conversations online, like we'd talk about the latest television and movies and-"
"NO you would talk about television and movies that I hadn't watched yet because you were downloading them while I had to wait until my timezone for it to… wait… is that the kind of pirate demon you are?"
"Yeah.…here's the latest Star Wars… did you know she was a Palpatine? What BS"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"
​
For u/rickyli99 | YOO WADDUP FU! wtf?? U IN HELL ? LOL WTF U DUMBASS
Yeah man, i got caught doing some pretty shitty stuff up on Earth so after that thing in highschool (awkward moment) i kinda had to come here u know. Satan told me that if i did this demon thing for him he'd give me extra sac lunch at chow time. I wasnt really a rich man back on earth, you knew that... I couldn't say no i was just so damn hungry in hell all the time. The sac lunches here suck, but on friday we get hard boiled eggs and today is friday i and work the double demon shift. That means,...wait.. (BACK TO DEMONIC VOICE: MORTAL, MY NAME IS KING PAIMON
​
Dude you sold your soul for a sac lunch?!! WTF bro, Damn man my bad. I was just trying to summon up some demons n stuff cuz I wanted to turn invisble for umm..research stuff. Im writting a book on uhhh ..anyways, I think i followed the grimoirie correctly and if according to this grimoirie you are indeed paimon...then can you hook me up with invisibility??
King Paimon looked bewildered, confused, happy, and anxious all at the same time. He didn't want to let Satan know he was granting mortals invisibility just because, but he felt bad for his friend he knew in highschool. ..Arlight man, im going to give u invisibility BUT you CANNOT make a scene with it. I SWEAR TO SATAN, if any of the demons start hearing rumours about another mortal with invisibility they WILL be alerting Satan. We already have a few running around, but those guys are some fucked up mortals man, i'll tell u bro. These other invisible guys sold their souls, but theyve made a contract with the demon they summoned at the time to carry out certain deeds...for you, i'll hook it up for free. Just dont be stupid. | 2020-06-18T00:39:38 | 2020-06-17T22:56:26 | 33 | 17 |
[WP] when we got to space we were surprised to find that all the aliens we come across are terrified of us, when we assure them that we aren’t there to hurt them they explained why they were so scared. Earth isn’t a planet, it’s a long since dead machine and humanity? Humanity is its combat AI. | They called us biologicals.
The English translation anyway.
Early earth education would frequently teach its young about how to take care of their bodies.
“Your body is a machine. You need to take care of it” teachers would say, with all the gravitas of elder knowledge.
Scientists would study how the human body functions. DNA transcoded from chemical data, into working cells that themselves functioned like little mechanics. “Like a machine”, the scientists would chuckle to themselves, and shake their heads.
Psychologists would study the human mind, where vast amounts of data were stored and processed at higher speeds than most other organic creatures on the planet. They would explore sentience, consciousness, and puzzle over our ability to learn, adapt, and program ourselves from our experience or be programmed. “Like machines”, they would think.
Human beings would go to the stars one day. Something driving us. Some romantics would suggest it had been that way since we were hairy and living in trees. That maybe we pushed ourselves upright and bipedaled’ just so we could stand closer to the stars that we stared at when night fell.
The stars called, and we answered. And historians would mark the day humanity mourned it’s innocence.
We met aliens. Although we were aliens to them.
No fictional media prepared us. It wasn’t like TV shows of intergalactic friendship. It wasn’t like books and movies of war. It was...underwhelming.
They were so slow. They were so weak. They were simple, and gentle, and wrong. Our smallest minds could think faster. Our weakest limbs could hit harder.
And yet...they looked at us in fear, and derision. Though it was humanity that ultimately derided them. We hated them.
How do you deal with being told you were nothing more than an experimental program? Something to fight for the protection of their species, as something like fighting was far beneath beings of their age and intellect. That all our stories of a loving God, preserved in a species wide generic memory, was to make us love them from afar?
That our planet, our poor beloved home, was our mothership? Our motherboard. The cpu, and casing of a planet wide computer. One we tore apart in a pre programmed drive to conquer, to dominate, to survive. We destroyed and loved our home in equal measure, lavishing in its riches while bemoaning the damage we did to it.
How would it feel to be told that every war was a successful test? All that grief and pain. All that sadness, and regret. Self tortured into being better fighters, more efficient killers.
That every death due to illness and old age was a successful deletion of damaged code? That our efforts to combat cancer, disease, and health problem was quite the programming anomaly...we were suppose to just die. Unwanted error codes in a decent program.
Our delusion of free choice was nothing more than a alien version of the Turing test. Every choice meant to further our genetic diversity and strength in combat and intelligence. All of our accomplishments, and our greatest sorrows amounted for a checkmark on an alien Excel sheet and a couple claps on the metaphorical backs of our creators.
And for what? To be forgotten. Relegated to an equally metaphorical back cabinet in a basement of a building foreclosed and demolished eons past. See, they had forgotten us. We didn’t even qualify for more than a sentence in an education data log. We were unneeded. Unwanted. And everything we had been through had been useless.
And when they met us. Even though they feared us and were disgusted by our nature. One they made. Unchecked artificial programs forced to torture themselves and tear their world and people apart in the effort of being the best biological combat AI the galaxy had ever seen. We were everything they wanted. At the time. But conflict was so last eon. Fighting was beneath them, even through a proxy. We were unneeded, we were told. Unwanted. We were informed. It would be best to just delete ourselves. Because ultimately nothing we did...nothing we went through...all the pain and suffering our our race...didn’t matter. And as they went to leave, they still had the gall...
To say they were proud of their work. Their work. In one statement they took everything we had gone through to get this far and claimed it as their own. Everything humanity was, they had as much said was theirs. And they didn’t want us any more.
I’d like to think they were surprised. But they probably never even saw it coming. For beings so intelligent to create our very existence, they didn’t know us at all. They never understood us. Not the people we became. Not who we evolved to be. And they’d never see how we outgrew them.
We destroyed them to the point their ashes would never be star dust, forever forbidden from entering the cycle of death and rebirth in the universe.
And we continue to spread, as good programs do.
May the Code Continue. | The first contact coincided with the first human born on Mars. The alien ship jumped out of sub-space near the moon and every NDDS (nuclear detonation detection system) on earth went off, just as NASA announce the arrival of a healthy boy. Of course many people made the "obvious" connection that we somehow angered some space gods because we spread sacred human life through space.
Earths militaries did their thing and rushed their weapon systems to the launch pads, but somehow cooler heads prevailed and a communication link was established. Fairly soon humans and aliens deciphered each others languages. Earth got the message that the alien vessel was an explorer ship and their time of arrival was pure coincidence, as they didn't even know that the solar system was inhabited by conscious beings.
They called themselves "Kaanul" and declared to stem from a huge, galaxy spanning, peaceful civilization, made up of a mosaic of many species.
​
Mare Tranquillitatis was chosen as the place for first personal contact. A crew of brave human scientists from a lunar research camp was assembled and send to meet the aliens. Both crafts landed within sight of each other with the earth as scenic background.
The first few hours went well. Greetings and gifts were exchanged and everyone was eager to learn as much as they could about each other. But suddenly the aliens fell silent, hurried back to their craft and without explanation. They redocked with their mother ship and blocked any attempt to reestablish contact. Clearly they were in deep fear.
​
The humans were as baffled as they were concerned. What went wrong? They knew already that the alien ship would need roughly a year to be made ready for an other jump through sub-space. So why the hurry?
Clearly something had scared the Kaanul away. But what? While many peace offerings were made to the alien ship, along with hopefully reassuring declarations of good intend, scientists tried to analyse everything they could from that short meeting. They found an encrypted message that had been send from the mother ship to the craft on the moon. This message seemed to have been the trigger for the aliens' hasty retreat.
It took the joint effort of the world's intelligence agencies and more than six months to decipher the message while the alien ship silently drifted in orbit. The aliens seemed to believe that the human race were a combat AI from an old alien race, named the Xia.
This was not much, but the humans tried their best to explain that they didn't know the Xia and they certainly weren't a combat AI. Five more months elapsed with the militaries of the world growing more and more anxious that the maybe the Kaanul had send for reinforcement, despite their claim that sub-space communication was impossible. Or they would be waiting to get away themselves to alarm their peers. The ship was well within reach of nuclear missiles. An preemptive strike was evaluated.
​
To everyone's surprise the Kaanul suddenly reestablished contact shortly before an anxious president was about to hit a big red button: "We believe you that you don't know the Xia. They are a very old single race civilization, older that any of our members. Once they ruled over many of the habitable galaxies. But even before we made first contact with them, their civilization was in decline. They had outlived themselves. Unfortunately our contact was not a peaceful one and as the Xia retreaded more and more they left something behind, what you would call "booby trap". They knew about our desire to discover new civilizations and integrate them into our realm. Deceitful as they were they manipulated living species on many planets along their route of retreat into developing the ability to use technology, but not to develop it themselves. Those species would appear to us to be harmless and peaceful, indistinguishable from other life forms from orbit. Yet deep in them they had the ability to use our technology and turn it against us, as they were designed to wage merciless war. We had some very painful encounters with those traps, but we thought we had defused or contained them all and became careless. We were wrong. You humans clearly are the most deadly of those traps.
With your globe spanning network and your ability to travel within your solar system you fall into the category of a Type I civilization. Superficially you appear to be peaceful among your nations. By this you deceived us. We had problems to analyse your history as we refused to believe that your history is just a succession of wars, a concept almost forgotten by us. When we realized our mistake we broke all contact.
For 400,000 years your species remained as the Xiu intended, but for a reason yet unknown to us you began to develop higher technology about 10,000 years ago and faster than we had ever seen. If we hadn't discovered you, you would have discovered us in about 200 to 500 years from now. We understand that we can't stop you from spreading deeper into space. You are too curious, too intelligent and too violent.
We do not wish you any harm, but we also have no desire to integrate you into our realm. We don't think anyone among us wants to contact you now or in the future, or trade with you. Our central council will decide how to deal with you and we think that it will end with a permanent contact blockade. Our civilizations are just too different. The nature of your species is just too violent. Please don't try to find us.
Goodbye."
That was the message earth received before the Kaanul ship disappeared back into sub-space. | 2020-07-09T08:27:11 | 2020-07-09T07:36:23 | 711 | 56 |
[WP] Almost giving up on love, you are set up for a blind date. Upon meeting up, you notice your date is literally blind. They ask for your name and you faintly say "Medusa" | **Author's Note: Contains carefully worded but apparent adult themes**
-----------------------------------------------------
*How can one be so young, yet so jaded?*
*Why is a beauty like her covering herself so much?*
*I bet she's one of those man-haters.*
I could practically hear their thoughts. Ignorant, pig-headed, misogynistic.
Selfish.
That's really what it came down to; selfishness. These men wanted to see more of my so-called beauty because it gave them pleasure. They assumed I wore my head covered as some sort of slight *to them*.
I wore my head covered because Poseidon had coveted my beauty- not so differently to what they were doing now- and it made me a victim.
The snakes that came later... I don't know. Some kind of magical protection. Perhaps a gift from Athena, the goddess I had served. Perhaps an apology, for not protecting me.
Constraining my snakes was painful. Each of them had a vibrant personality, and loved to move freely- but whenever they heard the aggressive thoughts of others, they would writhe madly- and that was painful, too.
A cycle of pain- just hurt, all around me- because one man-- no, one god- coveted that which he did not have.
I was used to the stares and the echoes of lascivious thoughts bouncing around in men's heads. It was accompanied by the writhing of my snakes, so I could practically hear it- imagine it, and likely with great accuracy.
Until, suddenly...my snakes relaxed. The painful writhing stopped.
I looked around, wildly- had everyone left this crowded plaza? Usually my snakes were only calm when I was alone-
No. They had felt the peace and strength radiating from one nearby, and they were reacting to it.
Sitting at a cafe, a young woman sipped on coffee- her face was serene, her eyes were closed- perhaps she was in a rapturous moment.
Curious, I sat across from her. "That must be excellent coffee. What did you get?"
"No, the coffee is...mediocre. It was your presence, actually." She opened her eyes- both of which were clouded.
My jaw dropped- like something out of a silly movie.
She continued. "I am unable to see- but there are many things that I may *feel*. Your energy is...so inspiring. You wade through lakes and oceans of pain, yet you don't seem to muster up hate for your fellow humans."
"You're wrong." I said, stiffly. "I do hate them."
"If that were true," She said softly, "You would allow your snakes to be free, and they would turn everyone in this city to stone."
"H-how did you-"
"They are speaking with me. I can feel their intentions- they want to protect you, so desperately. Every tumultuous thought that they hear, they want to lash out in anger. You don't let them- because you don't *really* hate them. You are afraid, and perhaps resentful- but you refuse to give yourself over to hate. That is...incredible strength. I am honored to be in your presence."
Tears stung my eyes. "Who are you?"
"I am called Arachne."
"...Medusa." | “Medusa, huh? Like that Greek mythology chick with the snake hair, right? That’s a pretty badass name, if I do say so myself. Better than Kelly, at least.”
A faint smile formed on the Gorgon’s lips as she adjusted the silk headscarf holding her hair, the snakes underneath wriggling at her cold touch. She continued to quietly pick at the pasta dish in front of her as Kelly continued, “Yeah, my parents clearly weren’t as imaginative as yours when I popped out. I mean, seriously. I’m pretty sure we have like eight different Kellies on my mom’s side. You’d think they could’ve picked some other basic-ass name like Sarah or Alice, but *nooooo.* Now when you yell out ‘Kelly’ at a family gathering, you got me and like a dozen other chicks whipping their heads around.”
Medusa could not help but allow a raspy giggle to escape her, eliciting a toothy grin from the milky-eyed woman sitting across from her. The Gorgon composed herself and whispered, “Do you…resent your parents for this?”
“Hmm…nah, not really. Minus that little nitpick, they did as good a job as any parent could really do. Fed me, kept a roof over my head. Probably bought me close to twenty different American Girl dolls over the course of my childhood. Hell, they supported me when I was finally out, which is more than some girls can ask for from their parents. So really, I don’t have all that much to resent them for. Guess I lucked out on the whole parent lottery deal.”
“That is wonderful to hear, Kelly,” replied Medusa softly as she took a sip of cold water. A few moments of comfortable silence passed before the former spoke up, “But enough about me, tell me about your parents. I always have this really bad habit of rambling when I meet someone new, which is probably why I don’t have much luck with this blind dating crap. So go ahead, I’m all ears!”
Medusa hesitated for a moment before whispering, “I…did not have the best relationship with my parents. They were sea-faring folk and bore many children, but…they never paid much attention to us and left us to our own devices.”
Kelly quietly contemplated the Gorgon’s soft words for a moment before replying, “Let me ask you this then. Do *you* resent your parents for that?”
“…no. It would be an understatement to say that my life has not been easy, but…perhaps the Fates willed this to be so. Had I not undergone such tribulations, I may not be sitting across from you this evening.”
Kelly blushed profusely, her boisterous bravado momentarily failing her as she stammered, “O-oh, that’s…that’s real sweet of you to say, Medusa. Thank you.”
“You are welcome, Kelly,” replied the Gorgon quietly. A few more moments of silence elapsed, broken only by the sounds of the pair’s fellow diners digging away at their plates and engaging in their own conversations. Kelly eventually spoke up, “Hey, um…this might be me moving way too quickly, but…do you wanna get out of here? Maybe get some coffee at my place? I don’t know why I’m feeling this way, but all that talk of yours about fate and such has got me feeling this sort of…connection with you, you know? Almost like we were destined to meet here together. It’s such a weird feeling and I’m probably totally creeping you out right now, b-”
“Yes, Kelly. I feel the same way. Let us go to your home,” interrupted Medusa softly, rising from her seat and gently intertwining her right hand with Kelly’s. The two women paid their bill and stepped out into the cool summer night, joyful smiles etched upon their faces like stone.
r/williamk9949 | 2020-08-27T08:11:34 | 2020-08-27T07:26:40 | 56 | 21 |
[WP] You are a superhero, no one knows about your alter ego. Not even your spouse. You return home tired and disappointed one day after failing to capture your archnemises. You enter your bedroom to find your spouse struggling to get out of the costume of your archnemises. | "This isn't what it looks like," Lily said trying to get out of her Lilith costume. All I could do was laugh. Which made her raise an eyebrow. I dropped my glamour and spread my wings.
"Really? You are Gabriel. Fuck......." I was a little taken aback by that.
"And what is that is supposed to mean?" I said folding my arms angrily. I was half tempted to summon my longsword and resume our fight.
"Eons ago. I received a prophecy. My greatest foe would be my greatest love. I thought it was hogwash. Now it seems it is true," she said wrapping her arms around me, "Never thought it would you, Gabriel." I don't know if she was trying to butter me up or what but honestly I didn't care. Lilith and I have been fighting so long and living a double life. Then something clicked in my head.
"So when I said you remind me of someone from my past. I was talking about my ex-wife. She looked just like you," I said with the sudden realization that we have been my married before...many times before.
The thought crossed her mind as well, "1876?"
"London. Bowler Manor."
"That Countess ruined my favorite party dress! Oh god."
"Her idiot husband bankrupted them you know," I stated with a chuckle, "So where does that leave us?"
"I don't know. I can’t and won't kill my own husband. No matter how much his alter ego ruins my plans. You know we could rule the planet together. It would be nice to have my hubby taking down all those mean heroes."
As the warrior Gabriel I hated when she used her voice. As husband Gabe that voice makes me melt. "Fine," I could feel her get her hopes up as I started, "But!"
"I have a love-hate with your butt," she said giving it a firm squeeze to my behind. I pushed her to arm's length and looked in her eyes. "No more killing. We have all the time in the universe to take over the planet. There is no need to rush it. For now, we can play heroes."
"Finnneee...I can play hero but you have to promise me at least two kids." I gave her a quizzing look. "When I am empress of the earth I am going to need heirs and people I can trust to make nobles."
"Why wait." I kissed her and hit the light switch. I began to reform my glamour to look normal. She broke the kiss and held up her hand for me to wait. She disappeared back into her closet with her costume on.
"Let's just be ourselves at least around each other from now on. No more Lily and Gabe. Those were aliases. Lilith and Gabriel are husband and wife. And it time they...them...us consummated our marriage."
I won't lie. I liked where this was heading. | "The fuck, Alice?" I shouted, nearly tripping over my own feet trying to back out of the room.
She straightened up quickly, dropping the weapons that were in her hands. "I, uh, I-"
"You know what, *dear*? I don't want to fucking hear it." I pointed at the suit that lay pooled around her feet. "You've nearly killed the whole city five times. Not once, not twice, but *five fucking times*," I growled out. "Hell, you almost killed me."
She stepped out of the tangle of clothes in the floor and nonchalantly crossed the room to the dresser. "I never 'almost' killed you," she said. "in fact, no one has ever died as a direct result of my actions. And I planned it that way."
I snorted and looked away as she threw a shirt on. "I'll pack my bags and go. No wonder I couldn't find evidence of the affair I thought you were having."
"*You* thought *I* was having an affair?" she shrieked. "How in the seventh circle of hell did you expect me not to feel the same way when you started disappearing at all hours? God, I spent *days* following you, hoping to get a glimpse of the woman you stopped loving me for."
I heard the bed creak as she sat down and I looked at her, seeing tears rolling down her face. "I never would have cheated on you," I said in a near whisper.
"Yeah, well, how was I supposed to know that?" she snapped, irritated. "All I knew was you kept disappearing."
I cocked my head at her. "You said 'knew'. Past tense. So you know now that I wasn't cheating?"
She looked up at me. "Yeah. And I know who you are. Fucking bastard. Throwing me away like a piece of trash in favor of a whole city. Did I *bore* you? Maybe I couldn't satisfy your urge to be the hero every time?" she went on icily. "Do you know why no one ever died?"
I shook my head and she cracked a small smile. "They didn't die because I was never interested in hurting them. I only wanted you to pay a little attention to me, so I became this. My alter ego. Denod Naba. Abandoned, spelled backwards. I thought that maybe- just maybe, that would give me the attention that I so desperately desired from you."
I thought about it for a second, feeling guilty. "I'm sorry you thought I abandoned you, How about we try things again? I'll be here more often and you let me take you down?"
She glanced at me. "I think that we need to take each other down. I've- uh, well, we've got a new job."
I glanced quizzically at her and she rested a hand protectively across her stomach. "Mark," she began, "I'm pregnant. It's time we give up the past and raise this child. What do you say?"
I nodded, shocked. Through a choked up throat I squeezed out a "yeah" then crossed the room to pull her into my arms. "Mrs. Williamson, I know I haven't been the best husband, but I want to work on that. I want to be a good father to the little one too. Do you think you can kill me tomorrow at noon?"
She nodded. "Only if you kill me at the same time."
I grinned. "Meet you at one for lunch at Clarke's?"
A big grin confirmed my query. "Now, the pretty little Alice needs a nap. What say we snuggle?" | 2020-10-30T12:05:47 | 2020-10-30T12:04:44 | 81 | 39 |
[WP] Millennia ago you gained immortality. Now after thousands of years you finally find yourself ready to pass on. Only to find your afterlife filled with your many, very miffed long dead lovers. | I made peace with death. It took me four thousand years, but the pale yellow gold of sunrise became mundane, waterfalls no longer awed me, and I no longer felt anything when I gazed over the Grand Canyon. I knew the spells to live and the spells to die. I found a beautiful abandoned cathedral, lit some candles for ambiance, and said the right words. It was supposed to be poetic, even though nothing felt any different from eating a bowl of unseasoned cabbage soup. Maybe the afterlife would be more interesting.
I winked out, and then I winked in again. I was in a long, gilded hall with giant pillars and a large party. Sunlight filtered through wispy curtains that led onto private balconies. Glittering chandeliers reflected in long mirrors that lined every wall. People laughed and chatted. Everyone seemed vaguely familiar.
Someone grabbed my shoulder, and I whirled around. The blood drained from my face. My stomach felt leaden. Tess stood there, a hand on her hip, wearing a ridiculous embroidered dress.
"You told me we were soulmates," she accused.
"We are..." I began.
"You also told Alonso and Ivar and Penelope and Khufu that," she interrupted.
"How do you know that?"
Then I saw them, all four of them standing right behind her, their arms crossed and their dark eyes glaring at me.
"I mean, it wasn't exactly a lie," I said, pushing out the justifications I had told myself over the years. "In that time and place, it was only you. In their times and places, it was only them, unless their were agreements in place about additional partners. I always strove to live morally."
"You married again less than a year after I died," a voice said from behind me.
It was Agnia. She had died in a famine, and, while I had wasted away to skin and bone, I couldn't die until I spoke those words.
"I had to. They were accusing me of witchcraft, and I had to marry the boyar's son to get out of it, Agnia," I said.
"You *used* me?!?!" Michail gasped, outraged.
I didn't have much to say to that. I had used him, though I had loved his simple, innocent heart as well.
"You *chose* not to come be with me after you died," Batnoam said. "You could have chosen to come here at any time, but you wanted more. More lovers, more memories without me."
For the first time in a millennia, I was crying. Their faces brought it all back - each loss, each burial, each bitter parting.
"I kept you all in my heart. Every one of you," I said. "I repeated your names in my head at night to help myself fall asleep."
"And what are we to you now?" Tess demanded. "Are you going to choose your favorite and send all the rest of us away? I counted once. There are 476 of us."
I closed my eyes and sighed.
"You're all everything to me. Every one of you that left or died or disappeared, you took a piece of me with you. None of you knew the same me, because each of you changed me. I knew the words of life and death, yes. I could have joined you at any time. But the truth is, I loved life too. I loved rivers and oceans and frost on the grass on autumn mornings. I loved the taste of honey in tea. All of you were second in my heart to that, but among all of you, I couldn't ever choose. I came here when that love died, but my love for all of you, that will never die."
I turned and walked out the double doors at the end of the hallway. There was a garden outside, and there, sitting on the edge of the fountain, was the first one, my first love, her eyes soft, her skin as warm as the sun that we squinted against when we lay on our backs and gazed at the clouds while the sheep grazed around us.
"Atarah," I murmured. "Are you angry too?"
"We knew you'd come," she said. "We waited so long, and the waiting was hard. Give them time. Someday they will learn that there are no limits on love."
And she rose and kissed me, and for the first time since the men came and took her from me, part of me was home. I knew then that they were all my home, that what I'd been missing at the end was them. I had waited too long to come here, but now that I was here, I was going to show them all that they were where I belonged. | **Time Enough For Loves**
Lazarus woke at the base of a massive tree, its branches stretching off into the distance. He blinked hard, at the confusing lights that hit his eyes, from the right there was a bright buttery glow, from his left oranges, reds, and blues flickered. All around him voices whispered, repeating his name, his many names over and over.
“Lazarus,” a voice from his right spoke. “We’ve been waiting for you.” He knew that voice, from a place and time far away. Dora, he’d loved her every way a man could.
The same was not necessarily true for all the others. Many hadn’t even know what or who he really was, and as he looked around Lazarus so a large cohort of women standing off to the side who did nothing to disguise their anger. He recognized only their leader, Marta, but that was enough to know the rest. Lovers he’d left behind on distant stars as he ran from an endless string of bad deals and puffed up rivals. It was a shame he thought, he actually had loved Marta, had wondered what happened to her for decades.
“Dora,” he whispered “I must be dead.”
“We all are,” she replied. “You should see all the children waiting, there’s hardly enough space for them, even here.”
“What, nothing else to colonize in heaven?” he asked. Lazarus had missed her smile!
“Enough!” Marta shouted. She stood to the left, at the mouth of a blaze that Lazarus could only assume to be hell, a fact which shook every notion he’d had about the world. “Step off Dora, you had your time with him!” She gestured broadly to the crowd behind her, “what about us? You left Yana behind at the altar. At the altar Lazarus! Most of us never even knew you by that name. I never would have thought I had the most famous man in all the worlds in my bed…” she trailed off, eyes growing distant. She had burn marks across her hands and legs now, and her clothes were ragged. Lazarus didn’t know if that had been her death or her torment.
“Of course I never thought you’d leave me either.”
Across the strange landscape endless voices murmured agreement, a rolling tide of jilted and jealous lovers threatening to break free. Dora squeezed his arm, pressing herself against his side. She’d always supported him, had known every bit of what he was.
“I didn’t know I would either,” Lazarus said, regret tingeing his voice, “not until that night.”
Moments later the crowd erupted on both sides, souls of lovers long dead vying for more causes than he could count, taking him to heaven, casting him down to hell, sharing him, drawing and quartering him, it went on and on.
Until the moment a voice broke through the clouds above the tree and silenced the lot of them.
“Enough!” It called, the very ground shaking at its power. “His fate is not yours to decide. Lazarus has been a very special case all these years.”
Lazarus looked up, scanning the sky above him for any source, hoping to see a hovering ship perhaps, or an undiscovered alien swinging in the branches. To think it could be “God” in any sort of old testament sense seemed to stretch all credulity, even with the current surroundings. Belief came hard.
“Lazarus, you lived far, far past your time.” The voice said, “and honestly, I’m impressed. In all that time I can’t say you were truly evil.” He heard angry voices in the crowd at that, wondered what precisely he’d done to them.
“However you weren’t good. That’s unequivocal, and there’s a price to pay for that. Purgatory,” the word rang across the land carrying an immense power, charge and sentence all rolled up in one. Lazarus felt his whole being reorienting towards the tree he stood near.
“You’ll stay where you are for as long as you lived to pay for your sins, thousands of years right there by that tree, in the space between heaven and hell. And any one of your wives, lovers, children, or grandchildren on down the line can visit you any time they wish. Your fate will be decided by them in the end.” Marta’s smile threatened to split her face at that.
“We will speak again,” the voice said simply, and every soul below could feel its presence recede.
In the din of the crowd Lazarus sat down at the base of the tree that divided the immortal lands, Dora still by his side, a sea of wives and relatives gathering around him for their pound of flesh, and he smiled. In the end he’d let himself die, let go of the whole world because none of it could interest him. He’d done it all, explored it all, loved in every way he’d wanted and been everything he’d wanted. The universe had held nothing more. Heaven, hell, purgatory? Those were new however.
He’d needed new more than anything, no matter what else it came with.
\---------------------------------------
If you enjoyed that I've got way more over at [r/TurningtoWords](https://www.reddit.com/r/TurningtoWords/)! There's fun stuff like a wholesome take on Bloody Mary or a weird psychic romp through a human hive mind. Check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-01-05T08:37:49 | 2021-01-05T08:32:20 | 482 | 119 |
[WP] Adrenaline is an evolutionary trait specific to Earth. When alien species are tired they sleep and not even a threat to their life will wake them. Which is why the pirates that boarded your spaceship are shocked to find you've not only jumped out of bed fully alert but are fighting back! | I sometimes wonder if the explorers who crossed the oceans felt the same way on their long, treacherous journeys. I sometimes wonder if they looked at the stars as I, seeing order within the infinite. I sometimes wonder if they were as lonely as me.
\_\_\_
“Zoe, play *Ave Maria*.”
“Yes, captain.”
“Zoe, what should we eat tonight?”
“That is up to you, captain.”
“Zoe, how many times have I told you to call me Owen.”
“I apologize, Owen.”
“What should we eat tonight, Zoe?”
“Our supply of lima beans is extremely plentiful. I have a wonderful little baked lima bean recipe you can try.”
“Hamburgers it is, Zoe. You take the helm. Not that you’ll need to do anything. Fly straight for the next nine hours, okay?”
“Yes, sir. Enjoy your hamburger, Owen.”
“Will do, Zoe. I’ll save you one.”
“Thank you, sir. That is very kind, but you know I am only the ship’s AI system.”
“It is the thought that counts, Zoe. It is the thought that counts.”
\_\_\_
I stepped down to the second deck, my navigator, Chloe, was reading a book.
“Hamburgers, Chloe?”
“Hamburgers," she said, as if to convince herself that it was a good decision. She looked up and nodded.
I think of cooking as an act of love. It is giving something to someone just so they can enjoy it. It is like reading to someone. It is like reading to your five-year-old child before they sleep.
I haven’t seen Ben in fifteen months.
I will read to him when I get back. I will bake him a cake and sit in a chair and watch him stuff his face, forkful by glorious forkful.
I miss loving my son.
\_\_\_
The dinner takes an hour to prepare and eat. The five of us talk and laugh. We are worn company among each other. We’ve heard all of our stories, known all of our secrets, felt each other’s intimate touch when the loneliness was too much.
We are just over a year into a three-year mission.
The thought of the rest of our time together stretches out in my mind and a dread grows within me. I do not tell my team how lonely I am.
By the end of the meal they are all pretty well soused. As a rule, I do not drink. They got me to drink on my birthday, and I blacked out, not remembering what I said or did. They never told me, but for a while they looked at me different after that.
\_\_\_
I help the crew to their quarters, and I crawl into bed.
“Zoe, play flowing streams by Guan Pinghu.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Zoe, did you know this is on the golden record we sent out into space in 1977.”
“Yes, sir. That is correct.”
“It is still sliding in the long dark right now. Alone. Playing its soulful music.”
I turned out the light.
“Zoe, do you ever feel lonely.”
“Only sometimes, sir.”
“I’m always here for you, Zoe.”
“I know you are, sir. Sleep well, Owen.”
“I saved a hamburger for you, Zoe.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Good night, Zoe.”
“Good night, Owen.”
\_\_\_
I dream of my son walking through a field he had never walked through before. It was a field from my own childhood. Guan Pinghu’s song was playing somewhere far in the field. My son turned and looked at me with sadness on his face.
“Tell it to stop,” he said.
“I can’t,” I said. “It is too far away.”
He laid down in the field then and plugged his ears. I looked far into the distance, and saw the field was burning, the smoke rising high into the air.
\_\_\_
That’s when I was woken up by the sounds of someone knocking over my house plant. It was an Izas and he was searching for something in one of my dresser drawers. What he was searching for, I still have no idea. He was loud and paid no attention to me in the corner, sleeping. As though I was not a threat.
I was alert in an instant. Ever since the Cartelian War I have slept with a pistol under my pillow. And now I had this pistol aimed at the Izas. My heart was pumping as I stepped towards it.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I said.
It seemed shocked I was awake. It looked at me wide eyed. It ran for the door. I shot it in the leg. It screamed as I stepped up to it. It's leg was bleeding all over my Persian rug.
My crew had passed out drunk. I know that. No way they woke up like me.
“Where the fuck is my crew,” I demand, grabbing the tentacle sprouting out of the back the Izas' skull. Pointing the pistol at its soft fleshy face.
\---
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | C'Xanna rode the emissions trail to their quarry. It shouted its existence to the black with a brazenness that C'Xanna had never seen before.
But this is the Uncharted Frontier, the stars beyond. The place where not even the reach of the Imperiana could extend. It was here that the scavengers were forced to ply their trade. The security within the borders of known space had gotten too steep, and even those counter-cycle could not find suitable quarry.
At first, the Uncharted Frontier looked to be meager in its pickings. C'Xanna was not a miner, and his crew would not follow a leader that could not supply targets. Even as outcasts and outlaws, they would be welcomed in some corners of the Imperiana if they gave up their trade -- so few operated during the quiet of the off-cycle. Within the many stars and the many colonies of the Imperiana, there was only one. The Vthar. C'Xanna's kind.
While they would still find their rest the same as all others, they entered the quiet when others emerged and vice versa.
It was a valuable trait to possess.
Particularly for those who sought to find glory with plasma and armor.
Still, C'Xanna was puzzled by this new target. It pulsed and thrummed with life regardless of the cycle. It was a strange thing to behold. Perhaps they had learned to mimic alertness, it was a common camouflage for a ship to pretend to possess one of C'Xanna's kind, but he would know if another of his kin had traveled this deep into the Frontier.
No.
None of the Vthar had been this far into the periphery. They were content with the platinum leash of the Imperiana. They were happy to lend their strength to the cover the weakness of others.
It sickened him, but he grown accustomed to the craven ways of his kind.
C'Xanna leaned over, placing his palm upon the head of C'Malli, his fellow Vthar and the navigator. "Ride in the wake of their signal. We will strike during the quiet time."
"But they--"
"It is a ruse. They try to trick those who walk the quiet, but they are fools. We walk the quiet. Others do not."
C'Malli flared his neck flaps in response, acknowledging the command as they increased their speed. They were unlikely to be detected, their vessel possessed superior stealth technology, but there was little harm to extra precautions.
Slowly, they closed in on the vessel. It did not give any indication that it sensed any difficulties. All was as expected.
Moments later, two large pincers pierced the hull of the vessel as the buffernose of their vessel slammed into the side of the alien vessel and began the process of cutting a hole. A great grinding sound rang out, but C'Xanna did not fear it. No sound could rouse those in the quiet. They were silent in their rest until C'Xanna and his crew made them dead.
This was their craft, and they knew it well.
A siren rang out, indicating the breach was successful. C'Xanna rubbed C'Malli atop the head a final time, "I will return once we have secured the vessel." Then C'Xanna pulled a small lever beside his seat, and a hole emerged in front of him. He slid from his chair and into the hull, depositing himself into the winding guts of their ship as he was propelled toward the buffernose. As he traveled, his armor flicked to life, and a covering wrapped around his head.
Lights flashed passed. Growing brighter and brighter, indicating that he had almost arrived at the buffernose. A flash and then he was shot forward, flying through the breach spot and hurtling toward the wall on the interior of the alien ship. He flexed his knees, pushing fluid into his joints to prepare for the impact as he collided with the wall, bouncing off and executing a neat roll before coming to his feet once more.
Ahead of him stood three other Vthar, the vanguard of the assault force. Another six would join quickly to make for a full assault team of eleven. In all of their time scavenging, they had never needed more.
As the six filtered in, C'Xanna moved forward with the other Vthar, each enclosed in their personal armor units with plasma rifles held loosely in gunhands. They were alert but unconcerned.
This was the quiet time.
Their time.
After the other six had arrived, they began to move quickly down the hallway. A bulkhead stood before them. C'Xanna motioned to R'Doual and she raised her plasma rifle in response. She flipped through the settings until a jet of pure plasma flame emitted from the nozzle. She pushed it against the bulked head, and it began to glow red and melt away the metal the aliens used.
Finally, a hole in the bulkhead appeared.
Then R'Doual staggered and fell back. Her suit's containment was breached in multiple locations, and viscous orange fluid flowed from the holes.
The bulkhead dropped.
More weapons discharged on the other end of the hallway, forcing C'Xanna to dive for cover. As he dove through the air, he managed to steal a glance down the hallway, expecting some form of automated defense.
Instead, he could only look in horror at the group of aliens staring back at him.
Quiet walkers.
The Vthar were not alone.
Others owned the silence of the cycle.
This would change the Imperiana. This would change everything.
**Platypus OUT.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | 2021-01-26T23:35:26 | 2021-01-26T23:29:07 | 728 | 250 |
[WP] After a Pyrrhic battle defending their homeworld, the defenders detect another fleet. It's the Humans, and they're sending in the hospital and engineering fleets. | Finally, after twelve long years of endless war and billions of lives lost, it was all over. Those bastard Kharin warmongers had finally been defeated, their fleets obliterated and their leaders executed. The last of the Kharin fleet made one last desperate attempt on our homeworld, and were destroyed there. But it was not a clean-cut victory; the battle was a bloody one, with the Kharin forces having outsmarted us in a wonder of tactical ingenuity. Nevertheless, we pushed on despite our losses, managing to push back against their mad suicide rush on our main carrier, finally ending the week-long battle and nailing the Kharin coffins. The tattered remains of the fleet sat in lazy orbit around our homeworld, when the worst news I had heard in my life come over the comms
“Admiral!” Lieutenant Nohra called to me,”There’s another fleet on scope, They’re not Kharin.”
I rushed to the bridge, quickly moving to Lieutenant Nohra’s console. There on our radar was a cloud of signals: a fleet nearly as large as the one we began this battle with. One I was almost certain we could not fight. With news of the approaching fleet the bridge was put in a state of panic. Some are praying, I don’t blame them, I’d be doing the same if I wasn’t the damn Admiral of the fleet.
“How much of our fleet remains, Lieutenant.”
“Our main cruiser, along with two of our destroyers, and one Ballista platform”
“Ki’rhenu! That’s… only a tenth of our original fleet. We cannot fight this new fleet. If they contact us, I… will surrender. Whatever they want from us, they’ll get”
“But Admiral! If they--”
“Silence! If they have come to kill us, they will do so whether we fight or not! We Djiri are not warmongers like the Kharin. We only entered this war because they shot first. I will not pull our people into another one.”
It was time to say our goodbyes. I saluted my fellow soldiers, and bid them settle their business before the end. I made my prayers our goddess, and waited. Five minutes later we received a hail from the new fleet
“--is Captain Devon Jones of the UTSF Desmond Doss, d’ya read us?”
UTSF? Humans?! Humans are vicious when it comes to war, some of the best tacticians in the galaxy are humans. They are fiercely protective of their resources and will stop at nothing to gain more. Have they come to claim our planet after they heard news of our near destruction at the hands of the Kharin? If they truly have come to kill us, it would be useless to fight back
“This is… This is Admiral Thar’kalla of the Djiri Federal Navy. We are in no condition to fight another war. Whatever you want from the Djiri people we will give you without resistance.”
We received only silence. Were they laughing at our piteous whimpering? Planning ways to annihilate our fleet and our home in one swift strike?
“W-what? We’re here to help. This fleet is only medical vessels and repair teams. We may be the best in the galaxy at fightin’, but we don’t drop kick nobody when they’re down” | As the human fleet was peacefully landing, the Kripts were all cheering. Many of them, out of the bunkers, carrying Garrison plants, were gathering in the close proximity of the gigantic human transporting ships. In the most horrifying war of their history, they lost 70% of their fighting adults, and 90% of their surface infrastructure was unrecognizable or simply vapored. The crowds were mostly youngsters, their big eyes and hilarious facial expansions, as well as their bright-multicolored clothes, were turning the landing into a huge kindergarten party.
\- This is maybe their local equivalent of laurel maybe... commented captain Soros gesturing toward the crowds of aliens with Garrison plants.
\- I’m looking forward to stretch my legs again – said Technology Admiral Garibaldi Gates, pointing to the beautiful mountains covered in snow, at the side of the city where his ship was going to land in the next day.
\- How long is this all going to take this time?.. asked Emotional Intelligence Acquirement Admiral Buffet. We have been waiting for three months in this orbit....
Every time it takes so long to negotiate the conditions of the approach. Planets are cautious at first – humans are too small of a species to matter in the Intergalactic Game. They never heard of humans – nevertheless, no intelligent species says no to charitable help, after a major war. Many times, it takes complicated voting, and a number of times the Emotional Intelligence Admiral had to step in advance on the planet to convince the locals of the good intentions of the humans. The hundreds of gigantic rectangular ships together were looking menacing in space, but the humans prepared movies introducing the aliens their kind, friendly, colorful culture. No wonder in the human language, another word for compassion was humanity. We come bearing gifts.
\- Verify the list of updates. Prepare to open the latches in exactly thirty-five minutes. All streams converge on their synchronization points ten seconds after the open. I do not want to hear again on the problems we had on Malthaic. If anything like that this time, heads will roll. No restarts. Admiral Gates was painstakingly meticulous, as usual – a defect of spending too much time with the AI systems, or maybe just his genes.
As the clock was ticking, the handful of humans on the two admiral ships felt their stomachs shrink. As the open order entered into effect, latches cranked. The crowds quieted, waiting, ready for the welcoming cheer... Then slowly, the buzzing started... millions of minuscule drones exited and converged on their established points, well above the crowds. In full synchronization as squadrons, the drones descended at high speed upon the youngster unassuming Kripts, opening fire with intelligent target seeking bullets. The special frequency of the sound itself was enough to render a Kript paralyzed, and the algorithm found those who won’t respond to sound quickly. Underground bunkers were breached within minutes, only a couple of prudent Kripts managed to escape in deep undergrounds were the drones would lose signal and stop.
\- And this is how is done, said Admiral Buffet, half day later, when the planet was cleaned up and the robots started to set up factories and plantations. What’s the point in brutal war when a bit of emotional intelligence can raise you a planet in a day?
The admirals saluted themselves and the crew answered with a cheer. Ever since Earth perished in the twenty first century, the escaped humans were planting their seeds across galaxies. Full force was out of question- they would immediately be destroyed by more ancient, more developed ever-growing species. Trickery was survival. The dynasties of captains and admirals were maintaining their lineage pure and the feudal organization functioning impeccably for millennia now. There was no need for many humans outside of aristocracy; they were all born with a scope and a job. Robots of human design, unknown to the intergalactic organizations, were controlling tens of thousands of planets, systems even.
\- A Great Reset indeed for the Kript Planet, said Technology Admiral Gates before he stepped away, ready for his exploratory hike. | 2021-01-30T17:35:30 | 2021-01-30T15:18:43 | 79 | 23 |
[WP] A fairy appears on your desk and explains that you just conjured a very inconvenient spell. It turns out humans are accidentally casting spells all the time, but are unaware of it. | *…Puppers then saves the world. He is a good boy. “Good Puppers!” the crowd cheers at the good boy. Puppers feels happy. Puppers is a real good boy.*
*The End*
I lean back, stretching my arms, cracking my knuckles. I have finally finished my 500 word magnum opus. It has taken me eighteen months. But every sentence is perfect. As I’m leaning back, exulting in my achievement and my writing acumen, I see a massive wolf spider on the wall in front of me. I take my slipper off casually, slowly, so as not to be suspicious to this hairy octo-legged demon. It’s bigger than my fist. My slipper slips from my hand as I swing it. It hits the wall next to the spider and the spider hops back in fight, landing on my shirt.
The scream I let out is a mix of primal fear and the sound that is made when a car’s drive belt is loose. My hands flail, gibberish comes out of my mouth as I strip my shirt off. I’m not sure if that’s enough, so I strip my pants off also, hopping up and down, cussing and speaking more gibberish.
I see the spider crawl out of my pants and run into a crack in my wood paneling. My heart is racing, my hair is standing on end. I have an atavistic disgust in the idea this spider was just touching me. After a few minutes, I calm down and put my clothes back on, then sit back in my desk chair.
Its just a spider, Benjamin. Don't be discouraged. You’ve finished your epic story of Puppers McGee. Celebrate! As I’m slipping on my cotton-plush slippers, thinking about the whole bottle of wine I’m going to drink in celebration, I hear a little voice on my desk.
“Do you realize what you’ve just done?””
There’s a small, action-figure sized girl on my desk, hands on hips, staring at me. Her wings are fluttering noiselessly.
I look behind me, then back at the fairy. She is still staring at me. I point to myself, *Me?* I ask her with my finger.
“Yes you,” she says.
“What did I do?” I ask. But before I can answer I hear glass breaking in my living room. “What was that?” I ask her.
“You’ve conjured a portal to the fairy realm,” she said. “And now goblins are coming through.”
“Is that bad?” I ask her, my voice is apologetic.
“Very bad,” she says. “They are quite a nuisance.
“How’d it happen?” I ask her.
“How do you think?” She says, then mimics my frantic dancing as I threw the spider off me. “You fool.”
“It was an accident,” I say.
“The spider was tiny, you sissy.”
“It was huge! It was bigger than you!”
“Hardly,” she says. “You’re a scaredy cat and now you’ve got a real problem on your hands.”
“That’s true,” I say, getting annoyed at this little fairies insults. I fake like I am going to put on my slipper, then I swing it at her, trying to smash her like the spider. The slipper slips from my hand again, flying past her. She doesn't flinch. She stays there shaking her head at me. “You are pathetic, Mr. Shitzu Shakespeare.”
“Oh, you know my pen name, huh?”
\---
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | Jill was at her desk pecking a word or two on her keyboard every few minutes with long spans of time in between. She just had to get this stupid paper finished by tomorrow morning. Yet as had as she tried, the words just refused to come to her. Hour after hour her thoughts went in meandering useless circles as she tried to describe the mating rituals of the Blue Swallow in 10 pages. Hour after hour passed with nary a word written until she fell asleep on her desk in exhaustion.
She was a bird, a blue swallow in fact, nestled in her nest pondering the male bird staring at her. What was it she needed to do again? She tried to remember how this mating process worked again, but her mind was blank. "God damm it! What am I forgetting here? What am I missing?" The stupid bird kept staring at her, tilting his head back and forth as if trying to understand what she was saying and wondering why she wouldn't start the mating dance. Was he not good enough? Would she dance if he brought her a longer twig?? " I wish I knew how this god damm matting process works!" Jill shouted. And so, the dream went on, fading into other dreams until it was half forgotten, until Jill suddenly woke up to a thump on her head.
" Ow! what was that?" she said groggily. On her desk was a small, humanoid figure, about the size of a newborn baby with the face of an adult and large greenish transparent wings on her back. She was wearing some sort of weird combination between a ball gown and a diaper with large billowy skirts. In her hand was a thick tree branch looking thing with some sort of shinny gem on the end. "Nothing that you don't deserve." the Fairy spoke harshly then she reached up and thumped Jill on the head again with here scepter. "Ow! stop that. What the hell are you anyway?" She should be more scared, Jill though groggily, but somehow despite it's odd appearance nothing about this strange creature seemed all that threatening except for that scepter thing. That had hurt. " I am a Fairy you nitwit! Didn't anyone tell you to be careful what you wish for? Especially in a dream. We live in that dream land you know. Every night you pesky humans enter our land and cast those accursed spells of yours." "....wwhat spells?". Jill said uncertainly. "Don't you know! Every time one of you makes a wish in a dream, it casts a spell on us fairies and we're forced to obey it. You wished you knew how the mating processed worked for those dumb birds. I'll have you know, I had to spend three hours. THREE! showing you that stupid dance those birds do until you knew it by heart. And do you know the worst part is?....YOU DON'T EVEN REMEMBER!" " I uhh..." Jill stammered. "That's right, I spend three hours of my day as a stupid bird teaching you how to do their stupid little dance and at the end of the day you just forget the whole thing as if it never happened. I had dinner plans you know. I had to cancel them because I was a BIRD!" With that last shout, the fairy thumped Jill on the head again with her scepter before the girl could respond and she went out cold. Her revenge taken, the fairly blinked back into her realm.
I few hours later, Jill awoke from her nap with a blistering headache. She looked at her phone. "Ohh shit, it's 5am, only 3 hours until this paper is due. With that she went right back to writing. The words came easier this time, as if she actually knew what she was talking about and in no time at all she was done with her paper. She didn't remember the dream at all of course. Or the events afterwards. Somehow she had 'learned in her sleep'. According to scientists, that was the purpose of dreams after all. | 2021-02-15T16:21:28 | 2021-02-15T16:03:35 | 207 | 68 |
[WP] “Sir, earth has found us.” The man in charge shouts “ WHO, WHO TOLD THEM?!” “Sir, no they found us on their own.” The man calmed down. “How, did our camouflage break?” “No it was because we hid Too well and they noticed the missing space. | “I thought we had at least another half billion of their years before there was any chance of detection from the earthlings!”
“Well, it seems the shield designers were working with rate of increase numbers that were off by a tiny fraction. When you are dealing with logarithmic growth that kind of error compounds quickly.”
“Damn it, okay, how did they find us? We are cloaked from every electromagnetic wavelength, and the particle traps keep anything with mass from escaping”
“Well that’s just the problem, sir. Mass.”
“What?”
“Our mass. They have detected our gravitation.”
“So? Everything in the universe has mass.”
“Yes, but everything else in the universe can be detected some other way as well. Black holes, interstellar dust — you can see them, or at least tell what the source of the gravitation is.”
“Even so, each of our self-replicating nanobots only weighs what, a tiny fraction of a gram?”
“You forget the compounding power of self replication. They now make up a significant proportion of the matter in the universe.”
“Fine, I guess there is no point in abstaining from contact with them. What name have they given us, so we can make ourselves known?”
“Sir, they call us ‘dark matter.’” | “Yup. That’s a solar system alright.” Confidently said the radar operator, the captain, navigations officer, and pilot were all staring over the shoulder of the man.
“Howdya figure?” Asked the pilot slowly.
“Well Carrie,” said the radar operator pointing his finger at the area one shade darker than all the others on the monitor “if you look at this, there should be some signal waves from that star on readout, static signal right? But there ain’t, it’s just a patch of blank space every now and again, And that, doesn’t fucking exist so the logical conclusion is there are cloaked planets blocking the signals.”
Carrie McTavin rubbed her face.
“Peter...”
“Yeah?” Said the radar operator smiling, his white teeth complimenting his dark skin,
“You know what, never mind.” Sighed Carrie hanging her head, “Captain?”
Captain Jonas Price looked skeptical at his radar operator, Peter was the best operator on earth, and undoubtedly was correct with the technology the Deus-II Deep Space Exploration Craft had at its disposal.
“Comms!” Called out Jonas.
“Sir?” Replied the radio operator.
“Hail the planet.”
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-10-0-00-0-0-0-0-0-000-0
“Sir earth has found us.”
The Grand Defense commandant of Luwo stiffened and then roared,
“WHO, WHO TOLD THEM, WHO WAS SO CARELESS?”
“Sir, no they found us on their own.”
The Grand commandant calmed slightly “how was our camouflage penetrated?”
“It didn’t, the steal thing drives are perfectly fine.”
“Well then how in the Imperium’s tenth talon did they find us!” Bellowed the Grand Commandant at his unlucky underling.
“Sir... you’ll never believe this. It’s because we hid to well and they noticed the missing space.” | 2021-02-24T16:49:48 | 2021-02-24T16:33:00 | 71 | 36 |
[WP]Just because one of your chicken eggs hatched a fire breathing dragon people think you’re evil. But you’re still just a regular farmer trying to make a living while dealing with an overprotective dragon, heroes that want to kill you and fanatics who want to worship you as the new Demon Lord. | A goat could birth a chimera, a serpent’s tail, a lion’s head, and a goat’s body. A basilisk was born from the egg of a serpent reared by a chicken. The mythics could be born anywhere in the world and from surprisingly humbling origins. Everyone knew it, and everyone had heard the stories.
Kellan Haszler certainly had been raised on such tales. But who would ever expect that “anywhere” could mean here? Yet it was here, on his farm, that a dragon had been born. A mythic that could be born from any egg in the world chose one of his hens as its mother. And while he had feared it as a demon when he had first sighted it and the flames it could spit, he came to realize it was only an innocent babe, just the same as any other newborn.
He tried to explain that to everyone who came, and many did.
“I understand, Kellan. I really do, but a normal chick doesn’t threaten to burn down an entire village or grow so large as to consume a human whole,” the young knight said. She had arrived expecting a hero’s welcome, just as all the others before her. And like the others, her annoyance at the lack of one was apparent. “You need to hand over the dragon before it has the chance to hurt someone.”
“Before it hurts someone, or before you hurt me for refusing?” Kellan had heard enough from these heroes. They knew as little as he did about dragons. Their knowledge came from the same stories he had heard, and stories were all they were. Trifling tales meant to entertain, not be the truth. No dragons had been born, or at least encountered, in centuries. That was more than long enough for their stories to be warped by time. “I am telling you what I have seen with my own eyes, not some whispered words told at nightfall to scare little ones. That dragon is as loving as a dog, and smarter than any other hound I’ve ever known. It protects my fields and wraps itself around my legs at night to sleep. I will not have it harmed.”
“Kellan -” Lady Halle stopped her shout short and swept her hand through her hair as she sighed. “I am just trying to protect you. The dragon is young. You do not know what it will be in a few years, a few months, or even weeks. All our tales are of dragons full grown, not their children. You would no sooner raise a wolf. It would be easy to mistake their young to be puppies, but wait for their true nature to arise as they mature, and you will find a monster inhabits your home. Some animals are not meant to live beside humans.”
“Some would say the same of any mean spirited dog or horse. Yet I have known far more animals ruined by their owners than were truly born cruel.” She sought the glory of putting down a beast, but there was no such threat for Kellan to provide for her.
“A dragon is not a horse,” Lady Halle hissed, her patience clearly wearing thin. Good, let her leave now before the dragon returned. It was out in the fields, surveying its territory and learning to use its body. It would not return until nightfall, content with its exercise and seeking his companionship. “That thing is not some farm animal to raise. You need to stop thinking like a farmer for a moment and listen to someone who might know better. A dragon will attract other mythics, and soon other monstrosities will overrun this place.”
“I am a farmer,” Kellan said firmly. He found no shame in that. “And so I will protect it like I would any of my animals. If a wolf seeks to break in and harm, then I will turn it away. And if it refuses to leave, then I will turn loose my hounds to make it.”
“Now, Kellan, that sounds close to a threat.” Lady Halle rested her hand on the pommel of her sword. “I assure you I do not want this to go that way and that neither should you.”
“I think I do.” Kellan whistled and barks from behind the farmhouse immediately started in response. His hounds were well trained and he could already hear their footsteps as they dashed to his call.
“Bring your dogs to heel before I have to hurt them.” Lady Halle gave him a warning look and drew her sword.
Kellan simply smiled. Let her try.
The door burst open at the weight of the animals behind it. In came his hounds, saliva dripping from their jaws. They were fierce little things, but just as loyal. He had raised animals for decades and learned the skill from his father, who had been even better at it than he.
Lady Halle swore and jumped back, turning from between him and the dogs. They tracked her movements, each three-headed hound ready to pounce and inching forwards.
“You ignorant fool. You would keep hellhounds in your home? This place is cursed, already the mythics have come swarming.” The knight stepped backwards, not taking her eyes off of the hounds. “Fine, have it your way. I will leave, but do not think for a moment that any will let you have peace. No one with sense will allow you to host demons in this land, and they will send warriors far greater than me to fix your mistake.”
She backed out of the doorway and moments later, Kellan heard her horse galloping away. She would spread word, he was sure. Let them come if they wished to. He would show them what it meant to be a farmer.
​
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[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ma2twm/wpjust_because_one_of_your_chicken_eggs_hatched_a/grr9iv0?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) | FADE IN:
INT. A HUMBLE HUT -- SUNNY
*One man sits at the head of the table, head in his hands. This is FARMER. He is dressed simply, streaks of dirt decorating his face and arms.*
**FARMER:** My family name is literally Farmer. I farm. My father and his father before him farmed on this very piece of land.
*To his left, a disgruntled knight in bulky silver armour sat. This is GIDEON. A woman used to more spacious accommodations, she constantly fiddles with the sword in its sheath, trying to find a comfortable position to sit still. She slams the table when she hears Farmer's words, however.*
**GIDEON:** So you admit your nefarious plot has been ongoing for generations?
*To Gideon's left, a mysterious figure sits. This is the mysterious CULTIST, face entirely shrouded with a prominently hooded black cloak. It's impossible to tell who, or what they are--but the voice that emerges is immediately unsettling.*
**CULTIST:** Beware how you speak, knight. This is the Dark Lord you are talking to.
*Farmer sighs.*
**FARMER:** Like I said--
*Farmer is interrupted rudely as a gigantic yellow eye appears in the window to the left of the cultist. This is the DRAGON, whose immense bulk meant that he had to be left outside. Gideon inadvertently recoils, while the Cultist erects himself with reverence.*
**DRAGON:** Say the word, master. And I shall burn them all to the ground.
**FARMER:** No! No burning! Just let me speak.
*An impossibly cute, puppy-like whine emerges from the humongous creature. The eye disappears from view.*
**GIDEON:** Monster.
**CULTIST:** Saviour.
**FARMER:** He's just a pet. OK? A big one.
*Both Gideon and the Cultist scoffs.*
**GIDEON & CULTIST:** You must be joking.
*The pair looked at each other, a gaze that indicates both reaching a brief state of understanding.*
**GIDEON:** She must be destroyed.
**CULTIST:** She must be worshipped.
*The brief state of understanding is quickly shattered. The duo lean closer together, and their hands both slowly move towards their side.*
**FARMER:** Look. The dragon was born here on this property. She's mine.
*Gideon continues to stare at the cultist, but briefly turns to Farmer.*
**GIDEON:** I do not want trouble here. If you insist, I'll have to kill you.
**CULTIST:** Kill the Dark Lord? Your opinion of yourself is far exaggerated.
*Gideon and the Cultist rise from their seats ever so slightly. Farmer cuts it out quickly, banging his hand on the table.*
**FARMER:** If you two do not stop it, I'll have the dragon burn you two to a crisp.
*A titanic growl can be heard from outside. The two concerned parties quickly shrink back into their seats.*
**FARMER:** (*cont'd*) The two of you have been saying a lot of things about killing and threat and danger and what not. So, hear me when I say this--I don't care. Actually, you know what? Dragon?
*The dragon's eye appears again.*
**DRAGON:** Master?
**FARMER:** What do you think of these kind visitors' opinions that you are very dangerous?
**DRAGON:** I am extremely dangerous. I can burn things just by breathing on them.
*Gideon shrugs her shoulders, plainly saying 'I told you so.'*
**FARMER:** OK. Fine. Sure. You know what?
*Farmer stands up suddenly, running towards the door. Before Gideon and the Cultist get halfway through their springing up motion, but before they could reach Farmer, the two can hear the roaring of a dragon.*
**FARMER:** (*cont'd*) You can burn anything really fast, right?
**DRAGON:** Of course.
**FARMER:** Screw this land. Whatever. My father never reared a dragon. You know that little patch of forest outside of this kingdom's jurisdiction?
**DRAGON:** Not exactly. But you know it, and I can fly high in the sky.
**FARMER:** Good. Take me there. I've heard good things about slash-and-burn agriculture.
**DRAGON:** As you wish.
**FARMER:** Will be good to send some haze this goddamn kingdom's way as well.
*The powerful beats of a dragon's wings causes the house to shake dramatically, while Gideon and the Cultist holds on to the table. Three, four, five, six, and it grows gradually more quiet, leaving the pair still partially standing at the table.*
**CULTIST:** OK. That wasn't the best outcome. But not the worst, either.
**GIDEON:** ... This is of the gravest threat. A dissident and a dragon gone rogue. I must send our armies at once.
*The Cultist holds their hands up high. They are ridiculously pale.*
**CULTIST:** Good luck, ma'am. I might be in a cult, but there's no way in hell I'm going to that dragon and probably seeing hell right after.
**GIDEON:** You might be in a terrible cult, but that is a valid point. So, what? We each report to our higher-ups that they escaped to another continent?
**CULTIST:** Sure. I don't want to die so young.
**GIDEON:** Reasonable take. I mean, I can chop you down right now. Save some trouble.
*Gideon pulls the sword ever so slightly out of the sheath.*
**CULTIST:** You think I don't have a death curse on me?
*Gideon puts the sword back in hastily.*
**GIDEON:** Well. It's not a dragon's breath, but still.
**CULTIST:** I think we'll just have to learn to deal with a little haze. You can just say we are worshipping the sun to make it stronger and burning the forest, or something. You'll figure something out. Crackpot theories a plenty.
**GIDEON:** The King's experimenting with focusing sunlight into weapons. That could work.
**CULTIST:** Right. Farewell then. Until some other time?
**GIDEON:** I'll run you through with a sword yet.
**CULTIST:** And I'll hex you into a frog. But at least it's not dragonfire.
*Gideon nods furiously.*
**GIDEON:** At least it's not dragonfire.
FADE TO BLACK
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-03-21T13:57:51 | 2021-03-21T13:10:16 | 508 | 128 |
[WP]Just because one of your chicken eggs hatched a fire breathing dragon people think you’re evil. But you’re still just a regular farmer trying to make a living while dealing with an overprotective dragon, heroes that want to kill you and fanatics who want to worship you as the new Demon Lord. | .
Jake saw a darkly robed figure riding a worn horse up the path to his barn. The dragon belched behind Jake. Jake grated "Eggard, I told you that was impolite." The dragon's eyes swiveled side to side in embarrassment.
The robed man halted his horse at what some might think could be the reach of a dragon's flame. It was not a particularly hard distance to guess since Eggard had seared the tufts of grass as they spun a pig on the barbecue spit. The pork was nearly done cooking and smelled delicious.
Jake asked, "Can I help you, sir?"
"Yes," said the man on the horse. "I'm here about the dragon."
Jake searched the robed man's face, "You should go on to town, it's the path over there." He pointed to the right of the dappled prairie, "head toward that big oak and you'll see the path meets the main road to town. That path has been beaten down, across my good oats, by armed heroes practically every day the past month. All those burned patches in the hay field is where they kept attacking us from. And these demon worshiping people from the big city brawled with the heroes and the heroes killed them all over there, and then the heroes came at my farm again. I can't have all that, too many chores as it is. And now I'm just out here making dinner on the barbecue."
"No, no," he held up his hand, "I'm not here for any of that nonsense. I'm here because there seems to be a shortage."
"Shortage of what?"
"I went through the books and you have all your taxes paid on your horse, perhaps one less pig? and those chickens I see free ranging over there -- hard to count with them moving about but even with that error you are ok."
Jake took a breath, "Of course, I pay all my taxes, have for years, before the deadline. I don't want all the king's men out here auditing me with spears."
"True, that is something we don't want. ... But I saw no tax payment for this dragon."
Jake almost blurted something out of anger, but he paused. He was not a numbers wizard but he knew the taxes came on the livestock. Eggard was not livestock. He was more of a dog. "Do I need to pay tax on my dog?"
"Certainly not on a dog. They protect a household, give companionship, they are not generally income producing unless you are running a puppy mill and selling dogs to everyone in town."
"No. I'm not selling puppies."
"Good. Then let's get back to this dragon you have."
Jake thought for a moment, "As you can see, this dragon protects not just my home but my farm. Look at all those burning bodies down the ravine there and the ones trying to run away over there, and the ones praying with the demon fanatics down there by the hollowed out corn field." Around the bodies were streaks of popped kernels like driven snow among the soot and ash.
"Oh, yes, yes. I see. Quite the carnage. Those heroes and worshipers are certainly numerous."
"So you can agree that he protects me just like a dog. And dogs are not taxed, correct?" Jake was hopeful. If a chicken was a copper piece in tax, a pig a silver, and a cow a gold piece he did not want to know what the kings tax collectors assumed a dragon tax should be.
"You are right about no taxes on dogs. But --" the man squeezed his lips together in a grimace, "but I heard this dragon of yours was born from a chicken egg."
Jake looked at Eggard. The dragon looked nothing like a chicken. He returned his gaze to the robed man, "Does the dragon look like a chicken?"
The man sighed, glancing again at the field of freshly torched bodies for a moment, "You know, I have to go back to the tax group with some sort of payment. You are positive the dragon hatched from a chicken egg?"
"I was about to make it for breakfast, in fact." Jake made the motions of cracking an egg over a frying pan, "Like this, but it didn't break right away. I thought that was odd. So then I tried to bang it harder and still it resisted breaking. In frustration I threw it in the fire because the fire was handy, that was my last egg until the next day, and ... this little guy popped out of the shell."
"That is really odd. Perhaps you should keep your chickens penned up and not let them free range?"
"That might be a good idea, now that you mention it."
"Well," the man leaned back in his horse, "The tax group is expecting we figure out this situation. I think if you give me the tax on a chicken, because this dragon hatched from a chicken egg, then you shall be square with the king."
Jake asked, "You can give me a receipt? I don't want a new tax collector next year to doubt our understanding."
The tax collector pulled out his book of receipts and made a note in his log and the receipt he handed to Jake. Jake dug out a copper piece to give the man.
The tax collector nodded, "Thank you farmer Jake. Good luck with your hero infestation, and enjoy your dinner." He turned his horse and left by the long path.
. | When an owl is on the hunt, it's almost impossible to hear. It glides through the darkness like it is part of the night itself. If you see one, the lack of sound is jarring, like something is broken with the world or your ears. It’s just incredibly good at its job.
In my, albeit limited experience, dragons are not in the same league of stealth. At least one of them, however, does seem to think it is a lot harder to spot than it actually is. The particular dragon had been hanging around my farm for some weeks now, and to be honest I was really starting to lose patience with him.
I assumed it was a ‘him’ because about a month ago one of the chickens on my farm laid a very unexpected egg and I had a sneaking suspicion that this dragon was responsible.
The slipstream of his passing overhead knocked my hat off into the small cage I’d fashioned for the unusual hatchling, and the small creature took a bite out of it. I felt the rage boiling inside me. Weeks of knights innocently enquiring about the ‘roosters’ I had on the farm like I couldn’t see the bloodlust in their eyes. Weeks of idiots in robes leaving sacrifices on my doorstep, that I had to keep cleaning up. Weeks of trying to figure out how a chicken laid a dragon egg, or what in gods name I was supposed to do to look after a tiny, fortunately only smoke breathing currently baby bloody dragon! Weeks of having to care for it in the middle of the night away from prying eyes.
“Alright!”, I shouted into the night sky. “Enough is enough. You come down here and help me with this little ‘un or so help me, I get those armour-clad morons to come back here and they can figure out what to do with it.”
There was no answer but I heard the dragon land heavily on the roof of the barn behind me. A timber creaked and cracked. I shook my head in frustration at another job for the morning.
“I’m not deaf. Stop pissing about.”
There was a sound like a person blowing in an imitation of the wind.
“Jesus Christ. Really?! The wind isn’t even blowing, you leather winged, crap brained, deadbeat dad!”
The air blast from his wings blew me a step backwards as the dragon landed in front of me. He craned his head down to my level and regarded me with one eye. The other appeared destroyed, some old battle scar perhaps. I could smell the oily, fatty scent on his breath that came from the dragon's fire. The babe was already starting to smell the same way. I swallowed hard and began to wonder if maybe 'crap-brained' was a bit much for an opening gambit.
“How could you see me?”, asked the dragon testily.
“I couldn’t see you,” I replied. “But you make a lot of noise.”
The dragon scoffed. “Noise? They call me the Whispering Death!”
“Do they call you anything else?”, I asked. Anything more accurate, I thought.
The dragon extended a vicious, razor-sharp claw towards me slowly. “My name is Smork. Pleased to meet you.”
I gingerly took hold of the talon and was lifted off the ground with a gentle shake from Smork.
“I’m Joe”, I said once I’d got my balance and again. With a nod at the baby in front of me, I asked: “You want to explain how this happened?”
The dragon looked sheepish, which was oddly scary. Like seeing a gang enforcer crying, it was unsettling.
“Um”, Smork said. “Not really, no.”
I raised an eyebrow like I used to do with my son when he gave me shit answers like that.
“Look, we’re both beings of the world, right?” pleaded Smork. “I don’t want to have to spell it out.”
I looked at the dragon and the chicken coop. “Yeah, but how did you not just end up with fried chicken?”
As if to illustrate my point Smork puffed out a small flare from his nostrils in annoyance. “What we had was special OK? Neither of us was looking for that to happen, and I’ll thank you not to mock our love!”
I laughed, and sound woke the little baby up. It mewed pathetically. “Love? Can you even tell me which chicken it was?”
“Of course”, retorted the dragon. “Our love knows no species barrier!”
“You’re bluffing,” I said. “Look, I’ll go open the coop, and you can introduce me if you like?”
Smork waved his wings in a conciliatory fashion. “Hey, let's not be hasty OK.”
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. What do you want?”
Smork reached his talon down to the mewling infant. “I just want to help. I want to help you look after my daughter.”
I thought about it for a few moments. He said help, not take over. The dragon wasn’t just here to offer his help, he was asking for mine. I had no idea if Smork was genuine. He might be much better at lying than he was at sneaking around. Something felt right though, and I made a decision that would reshape my life.
“OK, son. I’d like your help. The first order of business is getting rid of all these wannabe round tablers and demon sycophants. You reckon you can help with that?”
Smork grinned, and the horrifying scale of his teeth became painfully obvious. “Yeah, they don’t call me the Whispering Death for nothing! They’ll never hear me coming!”
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
r/TallerestTales | 2021-03-21T15:06:08 | 2021-03-21T13:45:10 | 281 | 144 |
[WP] You are an ancient entity, contracted to defend the village’s sheep from danger. The times move on, and you begin to hibernate. Once more, your services are requested, and you agree that, technically, defeating intergalactic invaders would be protecting sheep. | A young man was pleading. “I’m telling you, its real! I saw it myself when my grandparents showed it to my parents.”
“Why aren’t they here, then?”
“Aliens got them in the first wave of attacks. Listen, I know it sounds crazy, but-“
A new voice sighed. “You don’t need to talk us into this. Someone was convinced enough by your story that they sent us. Just show us your *proof*, and we’ll decide for ourselves.”
Bleak-Nights-Astir rose from its long rest, disturbed by grating words from mortal lips. It did not know the language, but it could take the meaning from their minds. The three minds stopped near its abode.
“Look, you know the government’s getting desperate, which is why we’re out here at all, but we’re not going into that cave chasing ghosts. There’s no way that cave isn’t about to collapse.”
“This should be close enough.” The young man cleared his throat awkwardly, and spoke the old words, the ones that Bleak-Nights-Astir had agreed to generations ago. The accent was off, two words were mangled, and one was completely forgotten, but it did not care for such trivialities. The meaning in the man’s mind was obvious, and so it stretched out the tiniest thread of its power to test its would-be summoner. It sensed that the right blood flowed through his veins, that of its contractors. It let a tiny bit more of its energy seep into this world and flowed out of its cave.
The scion was standing between two ‘policemen’, all three frozen at the sight of it. It allowed more coils of mist to obscure its form, to avoid making the mortals fully insane. It let enough of its aura out to leave mortals in awe of its presence, and to drive away any who were not desperate enough to be worth bargaining with. As none fled immediately, it assumed they must be desperate indeed. Using the greatest of care, it reached out to the three minds before it, implanting ideas without words.
***A NEW SCION APPROACHES.*** ***WHAT THREATENS THE SHEEP?***
The mortals were stunned by the force of its thoughts, and it waited for them to recover. One of the police woke first, shaking her head.
“The, the sheep? This thing wants to know about sheep!” She started to stumble backwards, and it froze her in place. It was tiring waiting for mortals to flee and then return once their courage rose again. Better to make them get their point across all at once.
The scion roused himself enough to reply, although he kept his eyes closed.
“That is what my ancestors contracted it to do, guard their sheep. And ever since, my family’s never had a sheep get sick, or go missing, or get stolen, for thousands of years.”
The last policeman finally managed to force out a few stammered words.
“Th- wha- Peasants made that thing a deal! How would… *anyone*, make it do anything?”
It shifted its focus from the scion to its newest supplicant, reaching out with incorporeal tendrils to brush against the man’s face. A thousand of its eyes, visible and invisible, surrounded the man, blinking in chaotic patterns. The sky began to darken as it pulled a little more of its power into the universe, preparing to meet the man’s request.
***WHAT DO YOU OFFER FOR THIS KNOWLEDGE, MORTAL?***
The scion blurted out, drawing its attention, “The sheep, the sheep are in danger!”
It paused in its bargaining and sent its eyes scattering across the landscape. There was nothing for hundreds of miles that might hurt its charges. But it could tell the scion had not lied.
***WHAT DANGER?***
“Aliens,” the policewoman said, “Earth is under attack.”
It looked skyward, and indeed, there were aliens in orbit around the planet. It read the inhuman minds surrounding Earth, and was pleased with what it found.
***THEY ARE NO THREAT TO THE SHEEP.*** ***THEY WILL LEAVE WHEN THEY HAVE WIPED OUT ALL SAPIENT LIFE.***
“They’re going to blow up the whole planet,” the scion said. “They gave the ultimatum a few hours ago, demanding we let ourselves be killed, or they’d bombard the surface until nothing was left.”
Bleak-Nights-Astir considered this. Obviously, the easiest thing to do would be to wipe out the humans, to remove the threat to its sheep. But that would make its contracted duty more difficult, without humans to do the feeding and to scare off most predators. It might have to wake every day, instead of every few years.
It shifted fully into Earth’s universe, the darkness that clung to its form all that saved the humans from losing their sanity. It flexed its will, and touched the minds of the aliens in their ships, filling them with a malevolent dread. Bleak-Nights-Astir was angered when this fear did not cause them to retreat, and chose to drive them into the deepest depths of madness. It had to manipulate the madness for specific effect, but within seconds, the alien ships were firing on each other. Less than a minute later, when it was sure the threat to the sheep had been vanquished, it returned to its cave, filled with what a human might call satisfaction.
“Is that it?” The policeman said. “The thing comes out, says no, and runs away. Maybe I should bargain to find out what it wants to fight.” It ignored the words, as the man wanted nothing it could give, since the aliens had already been destroyed. It continued to ignore both the police and the scion, who kept asking and begging it to kill the aliens, until they left, still arguing about how to convince it. It prepared to return to slumber, when a wolf crept too close to its sheep. It poured itself out of the cave and touched the wolf, filling it with a terrifying dread. It turned and ran immediately, as any wise creature should. | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc ?, Part ?: Rafi)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**Globalization had ruined fairy contracts.** People who failed to understand exponential growth asked for something simple, like [growing a year younger whenever their descendants had a child](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mrk4lm/wp_it_seemed_like_a_perfect_magical_deal_when_any/). Two hundred years down the line, and they *very* much regretted their teenage decisions. Or take Rafi, for instance. They had a nice, simple contract: "Whensoever Beast, Calamity, or Human Hand would strike this flock or its descendants, I will Appear to Enshield them from All Harm." Well, the humans had run some experiments, deliberately striking at Rafi's precious sheep, and determined that Rafi could instantaneously teleport across any distance between any pairs of matched sheep. Jump forward fifty years, and the only colonies of Rafi's sheep in the universe were controlled by the Unified Sovereignties, where strategic striking of sheep and the observed teleportation of Rafi would be used for faster-than-light communications.
And although Rafi longed to swat the insolent humans down for abusing their contract so, their power was limited. They could protect their flock from harm, yes, but they had no ability to strike back. So day in, day out, Rafi was forced to blink back and forth across the solar system, an ancient being of untold knowledge and wonder reduced to a glorified Morse code telegram.
It had been decades since Rafi had time to do anything but blink around the solar system at lightning-fast speeds, and they had to do *something* to keep themself sane. So over the years, they turned their nimble mind to unraveling the method the humans used to communicate. It took them nearly five years to crack the code—it was, after all, cryptographically secured by the finest minds in the Unified Sovereignties—but it wasn't as if Rafi had anything better to do. For decades, they spent their dreary, scattered existence listening in on meaningless military chatter—then, as usage of Rafi-comms expanded, details of economic convoys. Settlements. Eventually, civilian and commercial traffic was routed through Rafi's eternal dance across the solar system, so much chatter that Rafi had to plug their eyes and ears to avoid being disoriented by the continuous flicker-flicker-flicker of scenery as they teleported from sheep to sheep.
And still, Rafi's fate was better than others of their kind. They learned what had happened to the other faeries of the world—those who had been bound like them by even stricter rules had become nothing more than industrial-scale machines. Jayari the Wise, who could solve any riddle, had been reduced to a computer that could factor large semiprimes in O(1) time. The Sun Queen, She Whose Eyes Burn Like Stars, had been captured and unceremoniously dropped into a heavy water tank, where her beautiful, brilliant eyes were exploited and turned into a cold fusion reactor. And Rafi themself... well, at least there was a constant stream of news passing through them to entertain themself with.
They supposed that they could have hated humanity for what they did. But in all truth, Rafi simply felt... sorrowful. They knew that this was little imposition to themself, or any of the other Fair Folk; they had all been on this world since long before humanity was a tribe of apes in the mud, and they would be on this world after their civilization inevitably collapsed. Even a century was but a blink of an eye for them.
It simply hurt, to see how far the descendants beautiful, wonderful creatures Rafi had known had fallen.
And then, one day, whispers through the network that Rafi tirelessly maintained woke them from their slumber. It was a secret at first, classified, and to the highest possible degree—but Rafi had been silently observing the humans' communications for nearly an entire human lifetime, and their mind did not age or break. They cracked the code with ease.
An emissary from the few wild places left on Earth had set forth, to warn humanity of a great doom. An alien force from distant stars was coming, and humanity would not stand against it alone.
After all these years, Rafi woke up.
Various agencies dithered and hemmed and hawed, not knowing whether to take this threat seriously or not. Rafi wanted to stand up and scream in frustration—and they would, if they weren't being teleported to another location every femtosecond. If the Wilderwilds were reaching out to humanity, that was a sign of urgent and imminent doom. Every force that this world could bring to bear should be united against this threat.
But the nations of the world deliberated and stalled and, eventually, ignored the warning, Rafi could not make themself heard. Even though they tried to warn humanity, they never spent longer than an instant in any single location. Nobody heard.
Rafi sunk down as they considered what to do next.
And then they understood.
They had been studying the humans' communications for years. And while they couldn't stop themself from teleporting—not under the terms of their contract—they could... add a few destinations to the list.
For the first time in half a century, Rafi took action.
Carefully aiming their teleports to hit the precise timing and pattern that the humans used to communicate took a bit of practice—but Rafi had all the time in the world. Before long, Rafi had found their voice.
To every computer in the solar system, from the billboards of New Harmony to the most secure hardware of the Unified Sovereignties, a message blared. Systems designed to be unhackable had never considered that the method of communication itself might come alive and send messages of its own.
"I AM RAFI, GUARDIAN OF THE FLOCK." Although nobody could have possibly seen it, Rafi smiled. "AND I AM HERE TO SHEPHERD HUMANITY."
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "Bargain Bin Superheroes" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. I'm not quite sure where this fits into the timeline yet—presumably, in the far future—but it just felt like it fit in the universe. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2021-04-25T21:04:27 | 2021-04-25T20:52:27 | 206 | 63 |
[WP] You are every Super Hero’s worst enemy, not because you are particularly powerful, but because nothing you do is technically illegal… you’re just a huge asshole. | [Poem]
In Villainous stride,
Push heroes aside,
But still abide by the laws
No big dreamer, no villainous schemer not even a righteous cause.
I walk a thin line
Between rules, so fine
Make annoyances mine
Aftertaste like brine
Every loophole abused
Every get away used
Every shin bruised, because I can.
No one can get me not superman.
No villain can get near my plan,
All this work in one life span.
Close to the edge, a worthwhile stroll
Annoying, my pledge, it gives me control.
A day not lived where I don’t cajole,
Or abuse everyone on my payroll.
Sincerely a troll with my heart black as coal
Am I a villain? Nay just an asshole. | “Look your robbed from the poor and gave to the rich” he said as his stupid H glowed on his chest. Hope man was the galaxies most powerful hero and that was saying a lot. Me well I’m just a guy. “ no no no I bought that Martian egg fair and square ok. It’s in a museum so thank you tax write off” his face twisted in an unamused expression that really he’s been wearing since he landed. “ Fine but you can help the sick.” Amazing woman said. To get fair she was amazing to look at at least. Man maybe I am sick. “ I do as long as they pay their premium; insurance will pay every time.” She wanted to punch me i could feel it.
“What is wrong with you” wonder kid said trying his hardest to stay calm.
“ Look I get paid and live happily ok. I don’t break the law and I provide valuable jobs. If anything if it wasn’t for crew Klean you would be the villains. So shouldn’t you be thanking me.” I said it I didn’t want to but I just did.
The intimidator stood up. He was a martian so probably the martian egg thing made him a little angry. “ You pay the friends of villainy’s taxes”
“We’ll yeah but I also pay the tower of impeccable destruction… sorry I mean tower of good guys clean up and charity fees as well”
They all left in a huff. I mean it’s their second visit this week. One day we’ll get a hero smart enough to realize I write the laws to. It’s good to be technically not evil. | 2021-08-02T04:24:48 | 2021-08-02T01:55:44 | 40 | 25 |
[WP] It was surprisingly easy to deceive the Hero. All it took was for one of your henchman to tell him that the Princess was in another castle. Now he's roaming the countryside, taking out your competition. | “The princess is in another castle!”
I cackled. My henchman was not good for much, but he was a decent actor. I watched as the wannabe hero, of plump build and red cap, seethed in silent anger. His thick eyebrows furrowed, and his moustache grew thin and straight as he pursed his lips hard, the thing he desired most snatched away at the finish line.
It was a feeling I was familiar with. Seeing it on another’s face reassured me that we all felt the same way, no matter how different we looked—and god, it felt much better than to have
*that* expression on my face.
Then I watched him take down each castle—brick by brick if he had to—rendering all competition effectively moot, I admit that joyful schadenfreude overflowed from my blackened heart. But insidious worry seeped in like drain water, unable to be truly kept at bay. And it flowed into foreboding, then a trepidatious maelstrom, boiling every cell of my mind.
At first, I thought the hero was easily deceived. I laughed at his desperate attempts through air, land, sea, and fire, searching for his elusive princess, and chortled even harder when his searches bore no fruit.
But he would not stop. Obstacles mattered little to such an overwhelming force, a nuclear bomb crammed into a human shape, determined to destroy anything and everything for his princess, or die trying in frightful fallout.
He could not stop, and I despaired—for I knew I was next.
“It’s me,” a voice called out, too close to my ear for comfort. “Mario.”
---
r/dexdrafts | All's fair in love and war, and in a war like this, you need to pick a side and stick with it. And I picked to be by the Princess' side. Just that, well, she probably doesn't know it yet. But at least, I KNOW which is the correct castle. Unlike that dumb plumber.
You see, in this world, there are many castles and unnamed pipes all around. Mostly inhabited by mushrooms and overrun by turtles. And the occasional wild plant. Led by some huge, overgrown terrapin that breathes fire. I never had any hope of beating them alone, but with that plumber, my fortunes changed. In fact, I was really lucky then.
Most of the time, I never had to do anything. That guy would just show up, and utterly STOMP his adversaries out of existence. He'd trash brick platforms, trying to find coins in them (yeah who does that anyway?), tear down flags and generally wreak havoc wherever he went. So, it was a good thing he got waylaid right from the start. I mean, castle 1-4 WAS the right castle, just that it had just fallen to the turtles at that point, and it was easy to sell the story that "the Princess was in another castle, held by evil terrapins that throw hammers".
I mean, what's his deal, stepping into an age-old conflict between us and the turtles? Over a Princess, whose heritage leads back to the Toadstool clan?
For Mushrooms and Toadstools are essentially related. And when I look at the Princess, I do not see a human. I see a Toadstool instead. Likewise, all her servants are really just Mushrooms. And, from a Toadstool to Mushroom, it's easy to communicate. After all, while I'm just only a humble Goomba, I have lofty ambitions. I won't deny that I'm just some guy who will try to unify all fungi under the sky.
Eventually, after that cursed plumber rids the world of the turtles, the Mushroom Kingdom shall rise once again, with the Princess on the throne. And if she will have me, despite my height, I will be the Goomba King too! I just hope he'd end his adventure at the decoy princess at castle 8-4... | 2021-10-28T09:42:41 | 2021-10-28T08:42:33 | 114 | 18 |
[WP] A drug is developed that mimics the effect of 8 hours of sleep, giving people another 8 hours of potential production. Soon, society adjusts to a constant state of production. However, a horrible consequence begins to unfold. | Rejuvon. A drug hailed as the closest thing to life extension possible with known technology, adding some 30 years to your waking conscious state. Nano engineered robots fully calculated your REM sleep cycle, removed toxins from the brain, and fully removed toxins from your muscles and other organs. In 20 minutes of idle resting your body was just how it would be after a full night's rest. And no side effects whatsoever. Or so the studies showed.
Aaron and Angie like to finish their night of passion with injections of the drug, indeed, they planned it precisely at 2am, when their bodies would get tired anyway.
The alarm went off. Part of their ritual was to embrace one another and give the injection right into the others neck, a kind of post coital high, knowing that in minutes they would be fully recovered (sometimes they would even go at it again).
As they made eye contact, injectors at the ready, Aaron mused, "Do you ever dream when you take it?" Angie furrowed her eyes and replied, as the injectior made a whoosh sound, and the serum went into her body, "I'm not dreaming?" | Our school has the highest drug use in our county. The drug is called Somnus. It is a pill that you swallow in the morning to mimic the effects of 8 hours of sleep. This allows you to go to class and concentrate on your studies.
The consequences are that your memory is reduced and your brain is not as efficient. This results in an increase in depression and other mood disorders. The worst part is that this drug is still very popular.
After you have taken the pill, you will feel like you have just been up for 8 hours. This makes you more tired and less able to concentrate. It also makes you think that you have a hangover. The hangover lasts for 2 to 3 days. You will feel tired and more depressed than usual. The worst part is that you have to take the pill everyday. You will not be able to sleep without it.
The Somnus is the best pill for college students. You can get the pill from a doctor or from your school. It is only available in the morning and you are not allowed to take it more than 2 days in a row. It is very difficult to get off of the drug.
After the 2 days, your memory will be back to normal. However, the depression will last longer than the 2 days.
You should have your doctor check your brain to see if it is ok. You will need to take the pill for 2 weeks before the doctor can tell if your brain is ok.
If your brain is not ok, then the Somnus will not work anymore. This means that you will not be able to sleep anymore. You will not be able to get up in the morning without it. | 2022-03-18T11:07:54 | 2022-03-18T07:24:03 | 34 | 14 |
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once. | As the class watched on in abject horror, I zoned out a little and thought about what brought me here. This school was supposed to "straighten me out" as dear old Dad put it - after all, if everyone else has superpowers and I don't I shouldn't ever be able to win a fight. And if I could only get into losing fights surely I'd be less interested in picking them.
Oh how daft that old prick was.
30 minutes ago, when I arrived, I was told the rules. No running in the halls, don't steal our shit, standard stuff really. But then we got onto rules around fighting... Like how if a super uses their power on a null like me for violence they can have their powers sealed away by the Bureau.
10 minutes ago when I walked into my first class, I got a good whiff of the smug supers and their superiority complexes. As soon as I was introduced they demanded to know what a "mere null" was doing in their "sacred halls" dirtying the place up. Now, if the last 20 schools have taught me anything it's two things: the first is that you must establish your place in the local pecking order, and the second is that someone is usually kind enough to volunteer to help you do that.
So when one of the neon haired morons with an anime haircut got in my face during the fuss, I decided to accept his help and see just how far the rules would let me go. See, fighting in a dispute *is* allowed here, but unlike me I don't think any of these posers have ever seen the inside of a gym that wasnt tailored to their powers.
Since I slapped this kid to the floor and started slowly breaking fingers, nobody has said a word. Nobody has even tried to stop me, though I doubt any of them know how without their *precious* powers to help. I figure I've got enough time before the teacher gets back with whatever help he thinks is coming to get through both hands.
Continuing to make unwavering eye contact with my new classmates, I smiled and addressed them.
"You know what? I think I'm going to like it at this school." | She kept doing it. Trying to rile people up against me, and unfortunately, she was succeeding. It was her power, I knew; some kind of sensor. Pretty high level too. I'm pretty sure it worked on people too, that's how she was so good at manipulation.
I mean, I was just a normal, unpowered human. You could ask that from anyone, they'd say the same thing. Not she though, from the first day, she's been giving me the stink eye, spreading rumors, making sure everyone avoided me.
Still, isolation, I could have dealt with. But yesterday she decided to escalate.
"Why are you even here?" she asked, as I was leaving the building.
"I beg your pardon?" I asked, the sincerity in my tone hiding the sarcasm.
"In the school. You don't have powers, you said it yourself."
"Yes, and? Is it your job to question the decision of the director?"
"I'm just pointing out, that's all. It's a school for the supernaturally gifted though, not for the normals. It's disrespectful, almost, violating our safe space. Some people don't look on us powered people so kindly, you know? Or, I guess you really don't." she finished, everyone staring, the look in their eyes letting me know that her words had the effect she desired.
I went home fuming, and as I kept turning in my head with sleep not coming to my head, I came to a decision.
Next day, I went to school. The day continued, with people barely paying me any attention; without her direction, they didn't even notice me.
It was after lunch that I saw her, and I went forward, grabbed her hair, and rammed her face into one of the lockers.
"You fucking psycho!" she screamed.
"Shut the fuck up!" I said "Nobody's going to help you."
I let her look up, and her eyes took in the corridor, where people continued on normally, as whenever their looks fell on me, their eyes glazed over. Because obviously I was just a normal guy, there was no way I could be doing this, so in their eyes, I didn't. This was not happening, as far as anyone was concerned.
Well, besides her. Her power managed to see through.
"What the hell?!"
"See? I'm just a normal guy. You could ask any of them. It's clear that you're the psycho, with all of your allegations towards my completely normal and innocent person." I leaned in closer. "Now here's what's going to happen: You stop. You say you changed your mind, went to the church, whatever, I don't care. Without you, people will just go back to ignoring me, and that's fine." I let go of her head, and she almost collapsed in the hallway. "Besides, people wouldn't believe you about this. They *can't.*" | 2022-11-02T12:26:39 | 2022-11-02T11:13:00 | 83 | 59 |
[WP] You are a unimportant background character just trying to survive whatever nonsense the main characters are up to. However you keep finding yourself being drawn into dangerous stituations, and to your horror you realise that you're a fan favorite character the show is giving more "screen time". | Turton had been friends with the Hero since they were children, and when he heard that they had made a name for themselves, he resolved to do the same.
Life had other plans.
While the Hero was able to best the gangsters with his innate magic, Turtons non-magic behind had been promptly knifed by a lowly enforcer. Still, he bade his friend safe travels when he healed, and that he'd surely catch up one day.
But "one day" never seemed to come. A dragon burned the village months later, and he'd helplessly watched the Hero vanquish it with a jet of flame even greater than what the beast could produce. He could only guide others to safety when a rogue magician sent a torrent of water to wash away the kingdom. He hoisted a child over his head to her mother before the waters swept him away.
He didn't know how much time had passed, but he awoke in a washed out gully. He was sure that somewhere upstream, the Hero was just about done taking care of the evil spellcaster.
"Get up." said a voice next to his ear.
He jerked his head back, but saw nothing.
"Your friend is in trouble" the voice spoke into his other ear.
He spun around "W-whos there?" Turton whimpered. He was tired, and cold.
"You need to save him."
He'd finally lost his mind to stress, Turton thought. Might as well run with it.
"How can I do that? I have no magic, I've never won s fight in my life!"
This time, the voice took shape before him, a figure of mist with piercing white eyes.
"You won't have to win, just survive. As you always have."
"Survive?" He said.
"Yes. Survive the journey back upstream, past the magicians minions, and you'll be just in time to block a strike that will otherwise surely end your heroic friend."
"And then get my butt kicked again."
The mist figure flickered. "...yes. but again, you shall survive."
"How do you know all this? That I will always survive?" Turton finally rose to his feet, slipping on the rocky ground.
"Because your death would displease many people. From the moment you set off on your journey, I gave you the greatest gift I can bestow upon one of my creations. I gave you 'plot-armor'." | # Soulmage
**It was pretty obvious that the Silent Academy for Witchcraft was evil.** There were plenty of giveaways: the eldritch horrors that lived on campus, the harvesting of the students' emotions to fuel their war machine, the holes in Freio's memory that suspiciously occurred whenever the expert on memory erasure paid him a visit... and some people had taken that as a sign that the system was broken. That they needed to rebel.
Freio was pretty sure that following them would get him killed.
He admired their tenacity, of course. But he wasn't like them, able to charge time and time again into impossible odds without getting chewed up and spat out as a pile of bones and flesh. He was just another student trying to keep his head down and not run into any more abominations than he could handle. Secretly, even though they were his friends, he'd let out a sigh of relief when the ragtag party of rebels had their dramatic showdown and fled the Silent Academy.
But then the incidents started to pile up. Guided by an instinct he didn't understand, he'd refused to stand for the Oath of Obedience—and although his memories of what happened next had been erased like they always were whenever he tried to rebel, the bruises left on his body didn't fade. When he'd seen Kino shove some poor first-year against the wall, a voice had whispered in his ear that getting between the two of them would be the smart thing to do—and he'd limped away covered in burn marks from the fire witch's wrath afterwards.
Now he was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing the school nurse hadn't been snapped up by the draft.
*You know this isn't right, Freio,* that voice whispered to him. *Cienne is a hero. You could be too.*
"He *was* a hero, Jan. Nobody even knows if he's still alive."
*And will you be, if you keep letting the Silent Peaks grind you to dust?*
"I'll have a better chance than if I try to fight."
*Don't* try *to fight. Win. I know you're scared, Freio. But it's now or never. You can't stay here forever.*
"I know," Freio whispered. "I'm just... so afraid."
*That's okay. I'm here for you. I know you can get back up.*
Freio took in a deep breath, closing his eyes.
Then he sat up, body aching as he steeled his resolve.
If he was going to be a hero, he was going to do it right.
A.N.
It's late where I am, and I wrote this on a whim. Might continue later, or not.
This story is part of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest of the story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=new), or r/bubblewriters for more. | 2022-11-04T19:58:05 | 2022-11-04T19:27:38 | 542 | 48 |
[WP] You died and awoke in the afterlife. It's quite nice actually. The people and atmosphere are a lot nicer than you are used to and there is no stress or pressure. When you ask what good deed got you into heaven you are informed that this is hell, followed by a visit from a very concerned demon.
Edit: Wow, this got a lot more attention than I expected. | "Come again?" I thought I misheard her, and that maybe the blaring house music made me miss a few words.
The bartender coyly smirks at me, and the music fades out a little. "Yeah. Heaven doesn't exist, dude. The Creator 'left for cigarettes' a *long* time ago and nobody's been able to find Him. Real dick move, to be honest with you."
Shell-shocked, I jump to a conclusion. "So then this must be..."
"Hell? Technically speaking, yes. More lively than you were expecting?"
"Is this a Sartre situation, where we can't leave this club, and everybody is going to drive each other insane?"
"Oh, he's actually a regular here. Ms. DeBeauvoir is too. They're a hoot and a half. But no, you can leave any time you want, there's a whole city out there. You don't need to work to survive, but a lot of people eventually get a job anyway."
"B-but isn't there supposed to be punishment?"
"We don't do the whole 'incarceration' or 'torture' thing anymore. We did it to the real heinous ones, but it turns out that we didn't even need to. Most of them either end up isolating themselves with other evil fucks or making a sincere attempt to start over and do right by other people. The first one is definitely more common."
"I see."
"You don't have to worry about any of this for right now. Just have a good time here in The Four Winds, and if you want a room, we have them upstairs."
I blinked. "Wait, why would need to sleep if we're dead?"
She winked. "Who said anything about sleep, kiddo? And before you ask: You're not my type."
"You're really..."
"*That* Sappho, yeah. Did you think my nametag was a joke or something?"
"Well, yeah. You don't exactly look like you died millenia ago, and you don't talk like it either."
"What can I say, it's been a while since a 'lesbian' was just somebody from my hometown. Now, you want that whiskey sour or not?" | I always knew I was going to end up in heaven. I knew it. I spent my entire life trying to advance humanity. Trying to solve all its problems. Sure I may of cracked a few eggs here and there but the omelette was delicious!
So imagine my surprise when I awoke in a bed in some small town with a demon telling me I was in hell.
“Hell…are you sure?” I asked gesturing to the homely cabin I was in. “I mean sure the sheets have polyester in them but where’s the fire? The torture? The screaming?”
The demon sat across from me wearing a nice write button down shirt, black skirt and tie. She smiled and pushed up thick glasses.
“That’s only for certain people Mr. Whimble. Hell it’s different for each person and we make sure to craft each experience to the individual”.
“So then enlighten me” I challenged crossing my arms. “Why is this my hell”.
She smiled a vicious, knowing smiling as if I had played right into her plan. Like I was losing a game I didn’t even know we were playing.
“Of course Mr. Whimbly.” She took out a binder from a bad beside her and opened it to the first couple of pages before starting.
“Now everyone knows how you were a philanthropist, donating money to help better the world. But not everyone knows why you chose this route in life”. She flipped the page and continued “in an interview back in ‘97 you said it was movies”.
“That’s correct” I interjected. “It was the stories of how the hero always overcame the odds and win in the end. No matter how bad it seemed. How dark it got. The struggle, the fight was what defined them. What made them. It was exciting to see the hero fight their way to victory to change along the way. And that’s what I wanted to do. I wanted to fight for good”.
“Exactly” the demon said. “You possessed a drive not many other humans have. A need to better not only yourself but the world around you. It’s quite admirable”.
I bowed my head in a thankful manner. I’ve been complimented before but not by a demon.
“And now it’s over. Happy eternity Mr. Whimbly”. She slammed her binder closed, packed it, and got up to leave.
“Wait wait,” I started getting up after her, “What do you mean it’s over?”
She walked to the door and opened it to expose a little town. The weather was cloudy but light enough to see the grassy field right outside the little cottage.
“This is your life now” she gestured “no more no less. No problems. No solutions. No fighting. You have nothing more to aspire to and nothing more to see.”
I stepped past her calculating what the rest of time had in store for me. It was…boring. | 2022-12-26T19:51:39 | 2022-12-26T18:03:00 | 24 | 14 |
[WP]- Make me absolutely hate a character, and then make me fall in love with them at the last moment. | Every night, she made me run. She pulled me from my bed, no shoes and barely a slip of a nightgown on to run around the castle. I hated how the cloth chafed my nipples and the gravel cut at my feet.
"Come with me, my ugly daughter," the queen would tell me. I wondered why my father never helped me, but I would run until the soles of my feet were ground flesh, always despising her. "Gods forbid that I had given birth to a daughter," she always complained.
I had long, beautiful hair, but when my breasts started to develop and there was swelling in my abdomen, she took shears to my head and shaved me bald. She dressed me in sackcloth and paraded me like a freakshow to the court.
One day, I was through with it. When she came to my room, I stabbed her with a pair of shears. She looked surprised and sad. Defeated.
I had won.
My father came into the room. "Well, it looks like your mother isn't here to protect you anymore," he sneered, slowly pulling his pants off. | Harold was, as the locals called him, "a mean old man". He woke up at the crack of dawn every morning. He would pour himself a cup of coffee and then head towards his front porch. From there he would have his daily shouting match with the local paper boy.
After he downed his cup of coffee, he would resort back into his dank, musty, house to watch the local news. With every second he watched, saliva would build in his rotting mouth. He hated the newscasters with a burning passion. *"How could someone be so peppy all the time?"*, he thought. Every day a story about a rescued puppy or some emotional shit like that would appear in the news, Harold hated these stories. He would spit at the tv and not bother to clean it up. At this point, his tv was covered with mucus filled spit.
The news was not the only thing Harold hated, he also hated the local hooligans that lived on the street over. Every day they would bike by, with stupid smirks and grins painted on their faces. This severely bothered Harold, *"How come they are so happy all the time?"*. His solution to this would be throwing rocks as they biked by. Sometimes, Harold would spit on the rocks before he threw them. By spitting on the rocks he hoped that they might catch his mysterious illness that he knew so little about.
The illness that drove women away from him, the one that isolated him from his family, the one that caused him to have frequent hospital visits, the one that caused him never truly know what true love was, the one that kept him from truly living life to the fullest, the one that was slowly overtaking his dim, shortened, life.
Harold was just a misunderstood old man who never had the chance to live a normal life. | 2013-10-21T20:25:12 | 2013-10-21T18:13:49 | 126 | 20 |
[WP] A suicide hotline operator realizes that the person he's talking down really should kill themselves. | “Hello, this is suicide assistance. My name is Frannia, how can I assist you today?” It was my first day on the job as a suicide prevention operator. In fact, I was just hired, but, not wanting to reveal my novelty, I kept a steady pitch and waited patiently for the caller to speak.
“Um… my name is Shizo. I need help.” Finally came a reply.
“How can I be of service, Shizo?”
“Look, I killed my entire family yesterday. It was an accident. I have a horrible disorder that sometimes I can’t control my consciousness. I can’t forgive myself but I didn’t do it on purpose. I just need someone to tell me that it’s okay, that I deserve a second chance, that even a killer can be forgiven.”
A long pause ensued. My eyes teared up with hatred. “Sorry Shizo, I can’t help you. My family was murdered by a psychopath yesterday as well. I can’t forgive a killer.”
“I just need someone to tell me it’s okay. Just one person who believes in me.” The desperation in his voice was as strong as my hatred.
“Sorry, I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. I know it’s not your fault, but I just can’t forgive you.”
“PLEASE. Lie to me! You’re a suicide prevention operator for god’s sake! You’re suppose to convince me that my life is worth living. It’s like the opposite right now…” The caller started sobbing intensely, his words unclear but the meaning still understood.
I’m sobbing too now, “I’m sorry. I can’t. I just can’t. I wish I can, but I can’t. People like you… You are dangerous. You killed my family and you don’t deserve to be part of society! YOU SHOULD JUST DIE!”
For a second, nothing happened. Then it was clear the message got across when a deathly gun shot was heard by neither party.
In the middle of the room was Shizo Frannia with two phones, a gun, and a bullet in his head. | He was looking at the clock. One last call and then his shift will end.
"This is Eric, how may I help you?"
"I want to kill myself. I need help." Straight into it. "Earlier I bought bullets. Now I sit in my office, waiting." The voice belonged to a man in his 50s. He was slurring his words and crying. Maybe he was a little drunk.
"What seems to be the problem?" This one is gonna be easy. He learned to tell from the beginning. This one was salvageable.
"I need help." he repeated. "It's the little ones. I can't help myself..." he sobbed. "I have to touch them. I..." silence for a few seconds and then "I did other things too." he was whispering by now, and between the sobs it was hard for Eric to make out the words, but what he did understood was enough to make his stomach turn.
For just one moment he considered hanging up. Letting him do it.
"Tell me where you live. Let me call the police." he said instead. His punishment was for God to decide, not him.
"No! I can't do that to my family."
"Didn't you called because you needed help? I'm trying to help you not to hurt others and yourself." His palms were getting sweaty. What if the man hang up? Put the gun away? Go on with his life as if this night never happened?
"You don't understand. I need help. I'm a coward. I need you to help me do it." His voice was still hoarse, but considerably steadier than before. "I'm not a bad man. I'm really not. I just can't... When I see them I can't..." He sighed heavily. "The wife's coming home in minutes. Time is running out. Tell me, don't you think the world would be a better place without me in it?"
"This is not for me to decide. Please, please give me your address, or at least your name." He was pleading with him now, almost physically sick. "It's not for you either! The Lord gave us life and we can't play with it like that. Let me call for someone and you will never hurt anyone again, I promise."
"If there was a god I wouldn't be here. So, I think I'll go now. I see her car outside. For the record, you were no help at all."
"Wai...!!!"
BANG!
Silence.
He kept listening.
A woman was screaming. Shortly after, a child started crying.
Edit: This is one of the first dialogue heavy story I've ever written, so I would appreciate any criticism and advice on it
| 2013-12-23T15:47:58 | 2013-12-23T14:06:25 | 179 | 20 |
[WP]A man kills himself after discovering the meaning of life and writing it down, as does anybody who reads his note, you unwittingly read the note, what does it say and what do you do? | This is the bit of paper? Really? It's not very big. And people just read it, and then off they go? And kill themselves? All of them? That's fucking ridiculous, seriously, I'm going to read it. No, fuck off, I'm reading it. I'm going to read it and then I will go home and get on with my life and no one is going to die. Look, I've got a great job, gorgeous wife, a beautiful home and a baby on the way. I promise you, there is nothing that this paper could say that could make me take my own life. Seriously, I'm going to read it right now, out loud, so shut your ears if... you know, if you're a fucking idiot. Right...
"Recliner chairs in the afterlife are available on a first-come first-served basis"
Oh... | Peter shook his head, vainly trying to shake loose the ringing in his ears and blinking back the flash blindness. Unsuccessfully, so he did it again with a little more luck.
All of the windows had been blown out of the house and somewhere a car alarm sounded. The office chair that Milton had been occupying was mostly missing, now only a wheeled base with a lonely metal pole rising out of it before terminating abruptly and sharply, seeming to have melted at the end.
Milton was gone. Milton with his plaid shirts and heavy-framed spectacles. Milton his neighbour was gone.
Milton was gone in a brilliant flash of light. Milton was gone with a terrible screeching crash, like a train derailing.
Milton had called him, breathless and frantic. Had demanded... Demand? Not Milton, but this time he had. "Get here now. Get here now I've fucking got it."
Now Milton was gone and a scrap of paper had taken his place. It didn't seem a fair trade but Peter finally brought himself to pick it up, uncertain through his shock what good it might do, but hoping for a clue as to what Milton was working on.
What was scrawled on the paper made Peter more conscious of how disconnected he felt from everything because he couldn't possibly be reading it right. He tried again, with the same result.
"Superglue raisins together."
Those words had taken Milton from him and understanding them or not, Peter committed himself then to using them to chase after him. | 2015-02-27T00:42:41 | 2015-02-26T23:30:15 | 532 | 72 |
[WP]A man kills himself after discovering the meaning of life and writing it down, as does anybody who reads his note, you unwittingly read the note, what does it say and what do you do? | This is the bit of paper? Really? It's not very big. And people just read it, and then off they go? And kill themselves? All of them? That's fucking ridiculous, seriously, I'm going to read it. No, fuck off, I'm reading it. I'm going to read it and then I will go home and get on with my life and no one is going to die. Look, I've got a great job, gorgeous wife, a beautiful home and a baby on the way. I promise you, there is nothing that this paper could say that could make me take my own life. Seriously, I'm going to read it right now, out loud, so shut your ears if... you know, if you're a fucking idiot. Right...
"Recliner chairs in the afterlife are available on a first-come first-served basis"
Oh... | After slowly unclumping the piece of paper, I can make out the two simple symbols of nomenclature written in smudged blue ink. Two blurry numbers. 42.
Immediately I scoff. "Forty two" hah! That's just a reference to a Douglas Adams series of books. I loved those books. They got me through a tough period in my life and having that escapists release was a an important catalyst to how I became who I am.
I look again at the corpse. And then back at the crumpled piece of paper. I remember reading the book and I remember feeling just how comforting it was to have an answer. It was so simple. Twenty one times two. 42 is the only known value that is the number of sets of four distinct positive integers a,b,c,d, each less than the value itself, such that ab-cd, ac-bd, and ad-bc are each multiples of the value. Whether there are other values remains an open question. It is A UNIQUE NUMBER!
It dawned on me. The meaning of life is this. You are unique. There is no other you, but you. You are the product of four distinct positive integers. You are 42. You are unique. I am unique.
It was when I had this revelation that weird things started to happen, after a night of unsettling dreams. The next day. Get up and go to work.
The first customer that came in, right after I opened, looked at me and said, " | 2015-02-27T00:42:41 | 2015-02-26T23:55:11 | 532 | 19 |
[WP] One day everyone notices the words "Human Update 1.1 progress 1%" in the corner of their eye. | Fifty years ago, the Update began. The first time that I was I able to read my Progress it was at 3%, now it's at 14. Same as my age, oddly enough.
It changed a lot of things, according to my parents. Religion, the economy... the list goes on. Apparently the word "error" wasn't as scary when they were young. They weren't worried about my asking about it when I was learning to read. They weren't worried about the rumors. I wasn't either.
Today, I learned that that was a mistake. Today, I learned that I should have paid more attention when my baby brother said that his "bar looks jumpy".
Today, my baby brother asked me what E-R-R-O-R spells. What an error is.
Today, I watched him fall from the swings at the park. | Sometimes we ask for it. There's something in us as human beings that pushes us, ever closer to edges, cliffs. We like to be our own saviors; to resolve the very problems we create.
Another Monday morning. But today we all noticed it: progress. Progress is a funny thing. We need it. But we fight it. One percent. And counting. I had an inkling that the chip wasn't just another medical advancement. It wasn't just going to help doctors save me from a heart attack or debit my bank account as I purchased the burger that would cause it. We all got one. The chip became our wallets, our identity, our lives. But now it seemed like it was something else entirely: an invasion.
"Well what the hell happens when it's complete!?" My girlfriend shrieked. She was always nervous but now she couldn't hide it. Two percent.
"I don't know."
Riding to work, my car took a wrong turn. I hate these things. Let me put my hands on the wheel. I want control.
When I arrived, the blinking meter reached ten percent. But I was not at work. My car had taken me to the hospital; a huge grey building that always seemed to me more like a prison than a care center.
Vision: black, then blurry, then blinding white. I think I am dead. A voice of someone I don't know and from somewhere that seems like inside my own head says calmly,
"Welcome. Now is eternal. Enjoy living on The Substrate." | 2015-03-04T17:12:07 | 2015-03-04T17:04:42 | 1,174 | 19 |
[WP] One day everyone notices the words "Human Update 1.1 progress 1%" in the corner of their eye. | If you're careful, you can just catch it. Sitting there, in the corner of your field of view. There's a little trick you have to do to focus just right to be able to read the words. "Human Version 1.1 Update: Progress 1%"
No progress bar, at least none that you can reliably reproduce. Maybe the update gets us a progress bar? Or like, some life-time statistics, like in those what if questions that pop up all over the internet. No-one can agree on the font. Of all the things, why focus on the font? There's urban rumours of people offing themselves after apparently deciding they couldn't live with a God that types in Comic Sans.
All the churches are in uproar of course. "End Times", "Second Coming", "Redemption Of Man", "Quick Repent All Your Sins Before Jesus Gets Back". Yadda yadda. The progress has gone up by 0.1% in the last few weeks, and pretty much everyone's freaking out. Riots in North Korea, and Russia, and China, and America, and Europe, and the Middle East, and....
The genius of it, I think, is that the mere knowledge that a better/different state of humanity is coming, is enough to motivate change. People are energized. They want to do things, get stuff done before everything about being human is redefined forever. Most of ISIS has splintered, and over half the resistance have split off into a subgroup dedicated to stopping the remaining half. Down in Columbia they're burning the cocaine plantations. All those riots I mentioned above aren't senseless violence, they're ordinary people trying to enforce a change for the better. For the first time in a long time, people have something that implies a God is
a) up there, and
b) compassionate enough to care, even if only a little.
Just those two ideas are enough, and suddenly the whole world wants to clean up their act. It's damn brilliance, is what it is.
I half expect that the "update" is supposed to be more like a Quest Completion Bar. And as we strive to make the world better, as the corrupt and wicked slowly falter in the face of a metaphysical Big Brother, the progress bar will slowly rise.
It won't be easy, but then no quest ever is. | The update showed up on a Friday night. They always show up on a Friday night. I always figured it was because no one would be manning the help lines over the weekend. If there were no one to call then you would just forget about it by Monday.
This time though it took forever to download the update. Human 1.1 wasn’t advertised to be any larger than normal. By the end of the second week it’d only downloaded to about 75% for me. Everyone I asked said they were at the same percent. No one faster. No one slower.
Finally, by lunch time on Thursday of the third week it’d finished downloaded. I sighed while typing up an email at work as the “100% Complete” window flashed in my peripheral vision. A nap would let me reset and finish the update.
“You going to take a nap?” said Jeff, my cube mate.
I nodded. “Yep. Going to finish up this email then hit the hay for a few minutes.”
Jeff stood up and stretched. “Mind if I take one first? It’s time for my break. Cover me?”
I shrugged. “Sure.” It’d take me at least another ten or fifteen minutes to get the email put together.
Jeff clapped my shoulder and strode out of the cubicle. “Thanks, pal.”
It took me exactly fifteen minutes to finish the email. Jeff hadn’t returned. I stood up and cracked my back. It’d be good to take a nap and get the window out of my view.
Jeff never overslept though. I peeked out of my cube and saw Nancy lumbering down the aisle. “Don’t sleep,” she yelled.
“What?”
She ran up to me, huffing and puffing. “Don’t sleep. There’s a bug. Divine Co. just found it.”
“What kind of bug?”
Nancy gulped and sucked in air. “Catastrophic failure. They just said don’t restart. They’re working on a patch.”
“How long is that going to take?”
“I don’t know.”
I terrible realization popped into my mind. “Holy shit!” I grabbed Nancy’s shoulders. “Jeff is taking a nap. We’ve got to wake him up.”
Nancy didn’t move. She kind of blubbered and stuttered. “Catastrophic failure.”
**Edit:** Part 2 can also be found [here.](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2xyj8c/wp_one_day_everyone_notices_the_words_human/cp4pnrz) Part 3 can be found [here.](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2xyj8c/wp_one_day_everyone_notices_the_words_human/cp4qdob)Part 4-6 can be found [here.](http://www.reddit.com/r/Puns_are_Lazy/comments/2xz7fr/wp_one_day_everyone_notices_the_words_human/)
| 2015-03-04T17:26:24 | 2015-03-04T17:14:44 | 182 | 49 |
[WP] One day everyone notices the words "Human Update 1.1 progress 1%" in the corner of their eye. | I remember well when I first saw the "Human Update 1.1 progress" counter in the corner of my eye. I was still young, but I can't forget how the waves of confusion grew and changed. First people were asking each other if they could see it, then it hit the social networks, people from all over the world tweeting, facebooking and redditing asking the same questions. Then it erupted over the news with experts and opinionated guests telling us their thoughts.
The progress bar didn't change at all in the first years. The media frenzy died down and people stopped talking about it, it was just a fact of life that no-one thought about much.
I was a bit like how you never think about how you can always see your nose, but you never notice it sticking out of your face until someone tells you how strange it that you never notice it.
But then something changed, the percentage jumped a whole 0.3%. There was a whole new wave of News shows and experts and opinionated guests, but no-one had any answers.
Over the next few years the percentage jumped erratically, sometimes 0.1%, and sometimes bigger. But the biggest surprise was when the percentage went down. Everyone had their own theories about what caused it, and whether it was a good thing, but everyone was just guessing.
It wasn't until 2025, when NASA launched the first manned mission to Mars that we finally started getting some answers. The day of the launch was unforgettable, just how I imagined the Apollo missions were all those years before I was born.
As the ship left Earth orbit, the percentage jumped by a whole 2%. Bearing in mind we were only at 2.4% after 11 whole years. It was our first big clue.
When the ship reached Mars it jumped up another 1.3% leaving us at 5.5%.
Governments around the world started to pump money into manned space exploration and science. The Space Agencies flourished and started producing amazing new technologies, like the nano-carbon graphite lithium batteries, or the micro thorium power plants, which started finding their way into everyday life.
Soon the Western World was free from fossil fuels and running on clean safe renewable energies. The resulting drop in pollution and CO2 was matched by a 5% rise on the progress meter.
It started to click, soon China and India were fossil fuel free. Russia and the Middle East took a while to persuade, but after they switched and the whole world was fossil fuel free, the total jumped to 35%.
GMO crops in Africa reversed desertification, and cured the starvation problem, another 7% rise.
Any war or injustice in the world was punished by a percentage drop. Anytime a dictatorship was quashed or a civil liberty granted, it rose. Soon there were no wars, no hatred toward other countries, everyone wanted to see what would happen when we reached 100%, and they were doing everything they could to get there.
We did away with passports and money, nuclear weapons, our Armies and Navies, because with were rewarded with our precious percentage points.
Today my meter says 99.9%, but it has said that for the past 20 years. The world is now a Utopia, there is no poverty, hunger or war, people have never been happier.
I still wonder if it was morally wrong tricking everyone, I think it's turned out for the best, but I don't think I can ever let them reach 100%. | It was April 1st 2015, I was walking through the mall and suddenly it sounded like someone implanted a dial up modem in my head and I was connecting. I collapsed tearing at my head to get this awful noise to stop and as quickly as it came it was gone. Something was different, I felt electric. I picked myself up and looked around me to see I wasn't the only one who heard this, who felt that. At first a lot of people thought it was just a bad joke. Then, the words appeared like a cataract in the corner of my eye, "UPDATING HUMAN V1.1 PROGRESS - 1%" and they stayed there. It was one hell of an April Fool's day.
The news erupted, everyone was pointing fingers and no one was taking responsibility, but really we were pointing fingers because we were scared. Afraid for the future, some claimed this was God, some claimed it was the Devil, personally I didn't care who started it I just wanted to know what it meant. The progress moved steadily for the first month 1% a day, then it began to speed up. For the second month it moved at 2% a day, June was when it all changed. For the whole month it stopped everyday we saw 92% it's like we were frozen. Then nothing for months and months, we were all in an uproar it's all anyone cared about anymore it's like the world was on autopilot while we waited. Everything else lost it's importance.
December 31st we saw a change again, after six months we finally saw a change. "UPDATING HUMAN V1.1 PROGRESS - 99%" there were riots in the streets, people were hurt and should have died. Something was already different we just hadn't noticed. Everyone was healing faster, sickness lasted a few days at most and it took twice the time to bleed out. This only caused more anticipation and speculation on what was to come in the future. Everyday I watched the 99% and it haunted me, it haunted everyone. We did exactly what we could. We waited.
Then, New Year's Eve came and we all sat hoping it would be time, just like the year before and it would finally be time, we were so close. January 1st, 2017 came and nothing. It wasn't the same disappointment we were used to feeling every morning when we saw the 99%, this time it felt like it was hopeless and we were waiting for something that would never come. Then as I had given up on hoping, January 2nd, 2017 at 11:37AM there was a short series of beeps and the words in the corner of my eye changed. "Updating Human Version 1.10 Update - Complete" the text disappeared after a moment and in it's place appeared "Version 1.10 Calibration, Starting..." "Look Left" Check. "Look Right" Check. "Look Up" Check. "Look Down" Check. "Version 1.10 Calibration, Complete."
It was like I had injected adrenaline straight from Superman's adrenal glands after I'd ingested a lethal amount of Red Bull while the understanding of all the world's greatest minds came crashing over me. Dammit I was alive and I was unstoppable. It stopped being "us" and "them", and it became "we". Humanity became a whole working towards the advancement of all. Our bodies repaired with unbelievable speed, a cut that should have taken weeks to heal would take minutes. We also found we would only need to eat once a week until signs of hunger would begin, and it only took two or three hours of sleep a night to feel rested. Even with all our intelligence and new understanding we didn't realize just how much damage we were doing to the world.
We've completely depleted available resources on the Earth and have been forced to convert to 100% wind and electric power. We'll be leaving the Earth tomorrow morning to begin exploring space in hopes of finding a new planet with something we can use. Today is January 29th, 2017.
| 2015-03-05T03:48:32 | 2015-03-04T20:21:35 | 26 | 11 |
[WP] You are a detective in 1890 Austria. The man inside the interrogation room claims to have an incredible secret that will exonerate him from his murder charge. You can't imagine what monster would murder a 1 year old child, let alone one as adorable as young Adolf Hitler was. | I stared at the man
With the out of place hair
And asked him again
As he leaned back in his chair
"Why did you do it? A 1 Year Old Child?"
"You would never understand"
He calmly replied
"If you knew you would thank me"
He said with a sigh
"But now it won't happen"
"And I'm a man out of time"
"The future is brighter"
"I've done my part"
"And now you'll never suffer his terrible art" | After having just come from the scene of the crime, it was a pretty straight forward process: ask him why then hang him high.
"So, Dirtbag, what's the deal? Score to settle with the Hitlers? You got a funny brain? You got something to say, say it now because either way, you're DONE!" I said in the gruffiest tone one can muster after seeing a slaughtered child.
He sat, calm and still, eyes staring straight ahead with an expression of relief and accomplishment, "I wonder what the world is like now?" He pondered out loud.
My tense body slowly loosened as I realised, this man would never answer the question that didn't really matter anyway. Things were run my way in this town. I left the room and locked the door. I went on with day without giving it a second thought. He stayed there to rot like the piece of shit he is. What is wrong with people?
Edit: So, I can't read and this is my first attempt at a WP hence the shortness I guess. Plus I'm not exactly a writer, just though I'd give it a shot for a bit of fun. I'll try better next time. Promise. | 2015-03-30T00:05:18 | 2015-03-29T22:57:59 | 190 | 64 |
[WP] Write a particularly uneventful story, then surprise us with the tl;dr. | “Have you heard from her yet?”
“Nope. She said I would hear by noon, but its 1:05 now and I haven’t heard from her at all?”
“Don’t, sweat it bud. You’ll hear from her. She’s probably running a little late.”
“I don’t know. The general rule has been noon for as long as I’ve been here, and granted that hasn’t been that long, but I’m still worried about her. What if something serious happened?”
“You know how I feel about it, but it’s really up to you; you’re the one in charge. You have a decision to make, either you pull the trigger and go through with it or you don’t.
“I know. I’m thinking though, if I’m wrong, what that would mean…I just…I didn’t sign up for this, alright. – I mean, I spoke with her early today. Everything seemed fine, why hasn’t she called me back?’
“Maybe she forgot about us? I mean, we’re just doing what we are told, right? And if it doesn’t work out, then it’s their fault, not ours.”
“I know, but what would my wife think about this? Jesus, I have a little boy at home. I could be ruining all of that.”
“Maybe so, but ultimately, you have to decide what is more important.”
TL;DR: A cold war era plane, carrying a nuclear warhead, never received the abort signal.
| The clock on the microwave said *4:59*. It was early morning, and Frank poured himself a cup of coffee. He set the carafe back on the base and took a step back, sipping the hot liquid. Steam poured past his face, sending the inviting aroma of roasted coffee into his nose. Mornings like this were tranquil.
He glanced at the clock again.
*5:03*.
*How is it already after 5:00?*, he thought to himself.
He set his coffee cup down and set about making his lunch for the day. He was a butcher at the local supermarket, and preferred the simple things. His lunch every day consisted of three slices of meat, a slice of cheese, a light teaspoon of dijon, all laid neatly on toasted Rye.
He walked over to his refrigerator, and opened it. He frowned, grabbing the cheese and dijon.
*Already out?*, he thought. *There must be more in the garage.*
He set two slices of Rye in the toaster, and pushed the button. Turning, he walked out to his garage, where he had several different kinds of specialty cured meat. He took a small, paper-wrapped bundle and walked back inside.
He pulled the toast from the toaster, setting it on the cutting board. He pulled a butter knife out of the drawer, and dipped it into the dijon. Spreading it over the Rye was his favorite, as the spicy aroma of the mustard filled the room. It was making him hungry.
He took a slice of meat and tore a piece off, popping it in his mouth. His father was a butcher, and his father before him. He loved all kinds of meat, and could eat it for every meal. His doctor had warned him otherwise.
He took a sharp knife and sliced the meat further, leaving him with deli shavings. He piled those on the mustard-topped bread, and finished with two slices of smoked Gouda. He topped the sandwich with the last slice of bread, and folded it into butcher paper.
He put away the items, tucking the meat back into the meat drawer and the dijon back into the door. Smiling, he grabbed his cup of coffee, and padded upstairs to shower.
**tl;dr**: Frank is a cannibalistic serial killer. | 2015-06-16T12:31:29 | 2015-06-16T11:43:48 | 58 | 29 |
[WP] A writer, trapped in his own book, regrets not writing more intresting female characters | "My parents died when I was very young." Lucy sighs, staring wistfully into the pink cocktail.
"I know." I answer coldly.
How many times have we re-enacted this scene? Brilliant, bubbly, blonde Lucy meets me in a bar after a dramatic car chase turned stand off. She tells the tragic tale of her parents' murder, and her deep admiration of detectives. I take her back to my apartment, we make wild, passionate love, and she's gone by morning.
Every time I end up back at this bar, she's here. The blonde in the red dress with the tragic back story.
The flower shop down the street has the ironically standoffish Emma. The strip joint houses the femme fatale Jacqueline, with her jet black hair and razor sharp nails. Then the coffee shop on the corner of main and fifth, that's where Sally always appears; the young mother, fated to die.
When I arrived in this world, I was ecstatic. Finally I could live the exciting life that I was always chasing. My fiction had become my reality! I disposed of the true protagonist, Detective Matt Steele, and took his place in the narrative. Now my goal was to solve his murder. Obviously being the killer, I can't, or rather I won't, advance the plot... so I'm trapped, with these cardboard women I wrote, and some really watery beer.
"They were murdered." Lucy continues. | I was going crazy trapped in my own novel. I'd always thought my world was engaging, interesting, with fully-developed leads who propelled the story forward with the momentum of their meaning-fraught actions. I still think that is true; every time I see my protagonist while I'm wandering through the world I created, he's brooding importantly, solving philosophical debates and terrorist plots with the same charm and dry wit I envisioned as being much less pretentious than it really was, and garnering attention from every female he encounters.
I wouldn't mind being stuck in this world, if it werent for my one spectacular fuck-up. I'm a background player here, so it's not very dangerous to me. having written the damn place into existence, I know which dive bars and corporate headquarters I should avoid if I don't fancy dying in firefights or explosions. It's not a horrible place to be, with enough pleasant parks and rain-soaked cityscapes to provide enjoyable and ironically contrasting backdrops to all the brooding. But I don't know why I made all the women here so fucking boring !
Maybe I thought a testosterone driven broodfest of a philosophical novel wouldn't need any women as a distraction for the grandiose plot, the political conspiracy, the overarching corruption that is the hallmark of every shitty redemption crime novel. Maybe I'm secretly a misogynist and maybe I just do a crap job relating to women and that's why every girl in this goddamn place will just give you a blank stare and go back to fawning off the man whose arm she is on or is too interested in her menial service job. I swear every fucking girl here is a secretary! I'd realised, trying to be clever and realistic, that the powerful men my protagonist would be communicating with- his ex police chief, the judges and lawyers and corrupt officials- those guys never answer the damn phone. They all have secretaries. Every fucking woman here, shes a secretary, or a bartender. A contrived plot device helping propel forward the puffed-up, stilted plot. With no interest in a shitty writer. | 2015-08-20T11:42:45 | 2015-08-20T10:52:40 | 490 | 54 |
[WP] You died at the gym as you were trying to take a selfie while bench pressing. Thus you find yourself in Swaghalla, the Halls of Brodin.
EDIT. "Swaghalla" was the best pun I could come up with for Valhalla. Use something else if you have ideas.
Note: Swolehalla seems to be the proper name, pardon my mistake
second EDIT. Sweet, first time front page
third EDIT. I've had many good laughs brighten my Monday, thanks guys :D | The unintelligible cries of the gym employees rang out as the room darkened around Brett. Then, everything was silent. Even his own gasps faded into nothingness. As if from afar, he felt the pressure lift from his neck -- but too late. His windpipe had been crushed.
Had he only asked for a spot, he would have lived to do another set. But yea, though he was in beast mode, he went too far. Whilst trying to bench (like 350 bro and he was just getting warmed up), he had decided to take a selfie for the ladies on instagram. Alas, like so many tragic heroes before him, Brett's fatal flaw was hubris. And yea, though he was no doubt in beast mode, he was yet unable to snap a selfie while doing reps, and the bar fell upon his throat, extinguishing his life.
Yet he died a hero, and like all heroes of the gym who died in battle, he ascended to Swaghalla, the Hall of Brodin. However, Brett had a secret -- a secret that made him unworthy of Swaghalla. Soon, that secret would become his undoing.
He was greeted at the gate by Brodin himself. The wizened old man was totally ripped, his one eye bulging and his beard all white flowing and shit.
"Sup, bro?" spake Brodin.
"What the hell is this place?"
"It's Swaghalla, bro! You come here when you die in a gym!"
"Oh," said Brett.
"You're gonna love it bro," Odin continued, "You gotta check out the feasts, every kind of pre-workout you can think of."
Odin leaned in conspiratorially and whispered:
"And the bitches--"
He was cut off mid-sentence by an inhuman scream.
"What the hell was that?!" Brett shrieked like a little girl.
"Oh shit bro it's Jörmadgains! Giant fuckin' snake that eats the world and shit! We gotta fight it, bro, you ready?"
"What? N--"
"Let's go!" Brodin half-dragged Brett along to the battlefields of Gymgard. With them came the hosts of Swaghalla, all of whom were, like, super jacked. Out on the Cardio Fields, they saw it: Jörmadgains. Imagine a giant snake, but like, totally *cut* somehow. That was what Jörmadgains looked like.
For weeks, months, and years fought the hosts of Swaghalla. How long exactly even they did not know. Despite their overwhelming swag, many of them fell to Jörmadgains. The snake writhed and bit at the host of Midgard, but somehow Brett survived unscathed for a time.
Then one day as the sun dawned over Gymgard, Jörmadgains pinned Brett down by his chest with its tail. Flailing madly, his legs hit something -- another part of the snake. Desperate, he wrapped his legs around it and squeezed.
"Holy shit bro you got its fuckin neck keep squeezing you got this!" Brodin shouted.
Brett drew his legs tighter still around the neck of Jörmadgains. But like I said, the snake was pretty jacked, even around the neck area, do snakes technically have necks even. And alas, Brett had another fatal flaw beside hubris, a secret he had told to no one:
Brett had skipped leg day. | A giant golden fist pushed through the clouds and stopped abruptly right in front of my face.
"Pound it!" A thundering voice came from every direction, causing my bowels to empty on the spot. I fell to my knees. "Pound it Chad", the voice continued.
This was not the gym anymore. I remembered trying to take a selfie, Justin was spotting me... Goddamn it Justin, you dropped it, didn't you? Son of a bitch, I'm dead. Is this heaven?
I slowly lifted my limp-wristed fist and lightly bumped the mass of gold that floated inches from my face. "Weaksauce", said the voice, and the fist slowly moved back into the clouds. "I am the Alpha and the Omega and Kappa and Gamma and all the other letters but not Beta. You are Beta. You are not worthy of Swaghalla. You are a little girly-man."
A swarm of triggers appeared and started jabbing me with their pointy bits. The sudden realization of my demise coupled with the God-tier shit-talk enraged me so much that I swept away the triggers with a roundhouse kick and ran after the receding golden fist.
Frothing at the mouth, I was able to punch the golden fist with great vigour right before the clouds joined. A great slash of light tore through the sky.
"Braaaaaaaaaah"
Millions of voices greeted me in canon. Swaghalla unfurled itself around me, and at first I couldn't fathom it. It kinda looked like an episode of Entourage, but there were mirrors everywhere. My mirror images were winking at me, flexing my muscles. Mirrors to the left of me, mirrors to the right, mirrors in front of me, it was super tight. And beyond, bros as far as the eye could see, lifting, repping, squatting, pumping. A kaleidoscopic spectacle of writhing man-meat.
Right when I thought there weren't any women, a super hot chick appeared. "Hello Brosephus Chad", she said. "Are you ready to meet Brodin? I'm super hot and really stupid."
I asked whether the golden fist had been his, and she answered "I don't know, I'm a hot chick." She opened her Louis Vuitton-branded wings and took off, beckoning me to follow her. A G5 materialized and I piloted it with my dick.
We arrived at Brodin's Abrode. Chauntelleigh said that his whole house was diamonds, and that I should watch what I say because Brodin's crazy. I rang the dumbbell and the diamond door opened, beset on both sides by the largest bouncers I'd ever seen. I walked through the hall and felt gravity getting stronger. Every step made me realize that for years I had been skipping leg day. There was no end to this hall, I walked for what felt like days. My chicken legs were turning into protein pylons and my spirit soared. Finally I reached what looked like a big massage table.
On it, spreadeagle, was Brodin, getting his anus bleached. He turned his head towards me and bellowed "Sup Chad, I've been expecting you". He looked like Donald Trump. "You almost didn't make it, girly man."
"I know sir, I was confused, I was just trying to take a self..." Brodin kicked his bleachboy into the ceiling, stepped off the massage table and was now all up in my grill with the intensity of a million cans of Monster.
"Why would you want to immortalize failure Chad?" His warm breath whispering like a hurricane. "You little ectomorph, you barely made it through the hall on those tinder sticks. Justin should have been here, but you saved his life by telling him that floor sushi is not okay brah."
"Can't you send me back? I'm so sorry Brodin, I'm sure we can work it out." Brodin lied down on the table, turned his head and said: "I'm fresh out of bleachboys Chad."
| 2015-11-02T06:45:10 | 2015-11-02T06:36:33 | 257 | 47 |
[WP] Last night, you made a wish to turn into your crush's ideal mate. This is NOT what you expected. | "I want to be her idea of the perfect man." I said to the genie. She was my best friend from childhood. We played in the streets, had hundreds of sleepovers, and were inseparable in school. Our love lives just never matched up for one reason or another. She was my soul mate, I just needed to become hers.
"Your wish is granted, master." The genie waved his hands. I didn't feel different, but soon I was overcome with fatigue. I laid down and blackness slid across my eyes immediately.
The alarm clock woke me. I attempted to roll my legs out of bed and instead hit the wall. *Huh.* I was still mostly asleep, so I just rolled out of other side of the bed. My eyes finally focused on the annoying beep beep beep. *Huh. That's not my alarm clock.* I found the off button quickly and realized everything was fuzzy. I blinked rapidly, figuring I was just waking up, but no; something was wrong with my vision.
I leaned closer to the nightstand and saw a pair of thin framed glasses. *Huh.* Now that I could see I took in the room. It was vaguely familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it.
The tattoo ringing my forearm was new. *Oh shit.* My heart started beating a little bit faster. The saliva in my mouth disappeared in a heartbeat. The bathroom was right down the hall. I flipped on a light and dove in front of the mirror. *Fuck.*
I was my older brother. *No wonder that bitch was always inviting herself over.* | I stood before the cake, she stood across from me on the other side of the table. There were others there too, family, coworkers, but they seemed dim, wraith like in front of her glow.
She flashed a smile and said, " Make a wish!".
Momentarily stunned I could feel my heart beat in my ears. Breaking free just as her smile began to crack, I took a deep breath and blew out the candles. Wishing again as I did on my last birthday, and quite a few before, and on every shooting star and wishbone in between. I wished that she'd be mine, but more than that I wished I could be everything she could want. I wished that I could be the amalgamation of everything good about Tom, Robbie, Jonathan, and every other boyfriend she'd ever had - but without any of the bad, without those weaknesses and failures which had left her crying on my sister's shoulder time and time again.
The rest of the night passed in a blur. She took her slice and retreated to my sister's room, and I sat with the wraiths, in body at least for my mind was stuck on her smile, and the way she had laughed at something or the other my sister had said.
And that night I had once again made that wish, and fallen asleep to memories of her.
****
That night was probably the last time I'd ever been happy, for I don't know what happened in the night but I awoke as I am, a blind, deaf vegetable unable to move, see, or even feel a thing - floating bodyless in the endless dark.
I don't know how long I've been this way it might have been years since that day, or for all I know it might still be that very night, and this past eternity has simply been my last few thoughts as I die burning in a house fire.
The only break in this endless melancholy has been the spasms which come over me every so often. It comes all of a sudden and I feel my body begin vibrating from tip to toe. It isn't painful, nor is it pleasurable - it just happens every so often. Sometime it seems longer and sometimes shorter, although it is hard to tell now that time has lost most of its' meaning.
The only thing left to me now are thoughts of you, and the same endless wish, that I return to the world of the living, that I return as your perfect man. | 2015-12-18T11:40:28 | 2015-12-18T11:24:37 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] Write a dystopian vision of the future from the perspective of the year 1900, while actually describing our present world today. | "I have seen it!" The man's voice cracked in the midst of the street. "I have seen the future, and it bears horrors beyond imagining! Beyond comprehension!"
One or two bypassers had stopped, looking interested at the new madman the city of Boston had gained; for he was respectably suited and bow-tied, with clean garments and polished shoes, nor did he bear the marks of any obvious ministry. A novelty, then, one that probably wouldn't last.
"Turn back! We must turn back! Turn back, I say, before it passes too late!"
"What horrors have you seen?" called a young man, tall and burly enough to have no fear of the man who shouted.
"I cannot, I cannot find the words for you - I saw, I understood, but I cannot speak of it in mortal tongue -"
"Cheap," the burly teen observed, and turned aside as though to go.
The shouting man opened his lips several times, as if in desperate reach of words. "I've seen..." He stopped again. "I've seen a world... *covered in molasses!*"
One of the other bystanders chuckled. "Ho, that's original for an apocalypse. An accident at the molasses factory, eh? You won't find that in the Book of Revelations."
"A world where nothing can be done for the first time!" The shouting man's voice rose further. "A world where," his voice cracked, "*being a hairdresser requires a license and two years' college!*"
"What?" said the burly young man, and the others simply looked puzzled.
"A world where the inventors' corporations spend more on patent disputes than on research! A world where welfare assistance programs start to phase out their benefits so early as to create implicit marginal tax rates nearing a hundred percent, locking people into poverty!"
A woman crossed herself. "What in Heaven's name is the man saying?"
"Dam'med if I know," her husband said; and she elbowed him in the ribs. "I s'pose there's a horror in an Armageddon that doesn't make sense."
As though his sanity had cracked and words spilled out through it, the wild-eyed man was now shouting one incomprehensible sentence after another. "A world where a new medicine costs one billion dollars to test, 'ere it may be sold to even the most desperate! A world where they pour their life-blood by the trillions into student loans, unwitting that the positional competition for prestige means the supply curve slopes but slightly upward with the price! And the rent, the rent, the rent is too damned high, for all the committees to be vaulted 'ere anyone can build a house!"
"Speaking in tongues?" an elderly woman whispered.
"A world where Republicans and Democrats alike are steeped in corruption, and voters go to the polls only for fear of the other party! Where first-past-the-post polling prevents any third party from beginning, for each individual voter is impelled to vote for one of the two larger parties by the belief that no third party can yet win! And with the government so locked in place, there is no help to be had for a tax system grown larger than a mortal could read in a hundred lifetimes! Coal burns to darken the skies and scorch the land, yet none can rebuild the liquid fluoride thorium reactors that were made fifty years agone; for the molasses, the molasses, the molasses has covered all!"
"I wonder who he was talking to," the elderly woman said, "before he went mad; perhaps it was a lawyer, for I've heard some of those words in the debates."
By now, at last, the white covered carriage of the asylum had arrived, and white-coated muscular men spilled forth to take the doomsayer in hand. He did not try to run, but submitted as though paralyzed, as though knowing it was all too late.
"Turn back!" he screamed, as they dragged him away. "Turn back, before there's none left who can even understand the problems! *Turn back!*" | *Today, a strange man was seen walking along the streets of London. No doubt a ruffian, off on some unsavoury business, or so was initially thought. A gentleman had the idea to call the constabulary on him, to report an obvious crime in progress. However, he did not carry any bags, with which stolen goods might have been concealed. Instead, he had simply stood on the busiest stretch of Piccadilly, produced a bucket, stood upon it, and began to speak:*
Gather round, all who listen! I bring a vision of the future!
*Momentary interest was paid. Bewildered looks were exchanged.*
Ye, all around, are God fearing men, I believe? God fearing men, as you should be! However! I have seen what lies ahead! I have seen what lies beyond! And I say to you! In the future, there is no room for God fearing men!
*A pause. At this point, his speech had drawn a sizable crowd, of east end cockneys and west end gentlemen alike.*
Ay, for in the future, it is God that should fear men, for *men* have harnessed the power of *Gods!*
*A gasp, then a hush. It seemed even the street had quieted to allow for this man to recount unimpeded.*
Ayy, you see today, our magnificent city of London! A bustling, modern metropolis, its very foundations built by Rome! A city eternal, or so they say. A monument to the permanence of man!
*A clamor arose. What could this man be rambling about?*
Ay, Ay! But I have seen! In an eastern land, was a city, much like our own, a similar monument to permanence! A similar metropolis! Ay, Ay, Ay! A belligerent eastern city, in the civilized eastern lands! But do you see, now? That permanence, these eternal bricks? In that, eastern city, we, men, no, not men, Gods! We, with out power, rained such terrible fire upon it, as God had done to Sodom and Gomorrah!
*Now men were shouting. What did he mean? Such power was certainly beyond the realm of men.*
Ay, but in that same eastern land, I saw, their capital, and I saw...I saw! A hail of *burning ice,* raining from the heavens! All around were the screams of women and children, and all around their city was set ablaze as Thebes was! And I have seen this happen, thousands more times! I have seen a plague sent from the machines of men, that choked the life out of a forest in the Indochina! I have seen, in the lands south of the Bosphorus, terrible vengeance rained from glorious, white figures, like the holy spirit dove, but controlled by men! And I have seen curious devices, like open cubes, create curious objects, a wheel, a toy, but still, *objects* from *the air itself!*
*Now a man came forth, apparently to accost the apparent blasphemer*
"Sir, you claim to have been there, to have been present at all of these 'miracles!' But, praytell, how are you uninjured? How did you see the destruction of this second Sodom, without a single blemish upon your countenance?"
*Now, the mysterious man turned to the gentleman, and grinned widely*
Ay, but for this device, the most terrible of all! For men have developed the ability, one that proves to me, how they, apostates! Idolatrous fiends! How they could create moving images in devices, held in your hand! I saw it all, without being there to observe! Gentleman, observe!
*And he whipped out a terrible device. It was black, sleek, the size and shape of a cigarette box, yet smaller. And through some arcane process, the mysterious man made the device click, and all around, was the sound of music, and the screen glimmered with mysterious images. Then, through another arcane process, an image played out upon the screen, like it was a screen, but there was not a projector in sight! And in it, he saw, a furious cloud, the shape of a mushroom, rising above a city in flames, the target of the man-god's vengeance. Men swore, unobservant of social norm. Women fainted. Children cried, for the terrible sound effused a sense of desolation, even over the crowded street.*
*The constables came shortly afterwards, and dragged the man from his bucket on the street. Those men and women who witnessed the terrible display still shudder in their sleep, tormented by thoughts of what men, in the future, would do when they superseded the authority of God.*
edit: spelling. | 2015-12-19T10:18:54 | 2015-12-19T09:51:37 | 55 | 16 |
[WP] Everyone dies twice: once when their body dies, and once when their name is spoken for the last time. One must wander the earth as a ghost until their name is spoken for the last time; only then can they pass into the afterlife. It's been over 3000 years, and you're still here. | I sensed it. It was finally time.
When I was alive 3 millennia ago, I could sleep when I was tired and that would be the end of it. Being tired for so long is insanity. I can never rest, and I can never find peace, not while someone has the sound of my name on their lips.
But alas, I feel myself fading away. This is it, I think. Nobody has muttered my name in a few years, and I've been haunting Jelorg's apartment for a few decades now.
Just as I felt the sweet release of emptiness, Jelorg dropped his plate.
"Jesus fucking Christ"
VETE A LA MIERDA, JELORG, ESTÚPIDO HIJO DE PUTA!
***sigh*** I guess I'll go back to the basement. | It was all because of that stupid TV show.
I thought that it was done ruining my life when I turned twenty. The comments had slowly been dying down, and I figured that once my friends were out of their teenage years, the talk would turn to wine more so than my name.
Sufficed to say, it didn’t.
I died from old age, in the year 2090, and as my eyes closed and I could hear my relatives beginning to cry, a smile graced my face in the hope that I should find peace at last.
I awoke a few feet away from the bed, my feet floating a few inches off the ground, beside my daughter. She had only commented on my name when she was a child, and even that, only once or twice. I had always supposed my children feared me too much to make fun of my name. Perhaps that was the Russian in me. I was never as gentle as my husband.
My eyes still haven’t closed. It’s been 3000 years, damnit, yet that show has only gotten more popular. It teaches all sorts of languages now, but that theme song is still the same. It plagues my days (ghosts are not allowed to leave the building they died in). I have relived every single possible moment of every single episode.
Even after 3000 years, Swiper has to work on his swiping skills. That five-year-old I share a name with can’t possibly be that clever.
| 2016-01-17T12:27:48 | 2016-01-17T11:15:23 | 107 | 15 |
[WP] Everyone dies twice: once when their body dies, and once when their name is spoken for the last time. One must wander the earth as a ghost until their name is spoken for the last time; only then can they pass into the afterlife. It's been over 3000 years, and you're still here. | "Oh my God come onnnnn!" Jesus muttered under his breathe in the year 5046.
The entire world had been decimated by the wars and the plagues that had resulted from overpopulation and religious disagreements.
Over the centuries he had tried haunting his followers to break away from his religion. After all, the faster they stopped believing, the less they would say his name. God had promised him so much more than walking the earth as a ghost but, alas, here he was watching the last person alive die before him. Even Jesus Christ only had so many centuries of patience. Sure, the remembrance was flattering, but the Christmas songs every year had become too much to bear.
The blister covered man coughed himself a storm. He had not spoken in years, but being the last person on earth with the ability to speak Jesus ' name one last time, it was finally time for him to go on. To Heaven. To God.
The man coughed and closed his eyes. He said nothing. He didn't even move his lips. Not to speak, nor to breathe.
He was dead, and Jesus was still there, lingering over the man bewildered.
Jesus called to the skies to open for him, called to his father in heaven who had failed him. He had been so patient, so long.
"Well, isn't this a sight? Jesus Christ, last ghost on earth."
Jesus turned, the voice familiar to him in all the worst of ways.
"You may remember me, as I was cast down to walk the earth, like any one of these filthy humans did. All these years I waited patiently to exact my revenge. Well, I'm immortal! Ha! And so long as I'm alive, you won't be leaving this place, Jesus. So, I guess you went and died for nothing. "
Then, the man turned to serpent and slithered off humming Christmas carols, and Jesus was damned to Earth for the rest of eternity. | It was all because of that stupid TV show.
I thought that it was done ruining my life when I turned twenty. The comments had slowly been dying down, and I figured that once my friends were out of their teenage years, the talk would turn to wine more so than my name.
Sufficed to say, it didn’t.
I died from old age, in the year 2090, and as my eyes closed and I could hear my relatives beginning to cry, a smile graced my face in the hope that I should find peace at last.
I awoke a few feet away from the bed, my feet floating a few inches off the ground, beside my daughter. She had only commented on my name when she was a child, and even that, only once or twice. I had always supposed my children feared me too much to make fun of my name. Perhaps that was the Russian in me. I was never as gentle as my husband.
My eyes still haven’t closed. It’s been 3000 years, damnit, yet that show has only gotten more popular. It teaches all sorts of languages now, but that theme song is still the same. It plagues my days (ghosts are not allowed to leave the building they died in). I have relived every single possible moment of every single episode.
Fun fact: new episodes air every Sunday at ten in the morning. My great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great- great-(etc) granddaughter absolutely loves them.
Thankfully, my family did not continue the tradition of naming their children after their ancestors. I suppose that would have made it doubly difficult for me to finally reach the peaceful afterlife (if there even is one).
TV looks a lot cooler; that’s one good thing about being around for so long, I suppose. You get to see all the cool stuff people have come up with. The worst part is when they walk right through you, and you begin forgetting if Jerry was the father or your second great-great-great son-in-law.
I think a missed a few greats in there. Oh well. Back to the show.
Even after 3000 years, Swiper has to work on his swiping skills. That five-year-old I share a name with can’t possibly be that hard to outwit.
| 2016-01-17T12:34:36 | 2016-01-17T11:19:18 | 44 | 15 |
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