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] 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 am King Tut. I've been wandering the Earth for 3000 years, unfortunately. As it turns out, you do pass into the afterlife. Although, in order for that to happen, your name has to be uttered for the last time.
Being that I was a pharaoh, I'm probably going to be spoken about until the end of time. That's what happens when you make your mark. I envy the peasants, the slaves. They were only here for 100 years at the most. The rule is that 100 years has to pass after the last time your name was mentioned before you can leave. Otherwise there would be no way for "Death" or whatever it is to figure it out.
It's a fitting punishment, if you think about it. The good people will simply deal with it, the bad people will be spoken about incessantly. Adolf Hitler will probably be around much longer than me. Especially considering how close he was time-wise to the creation of the internet. As will Winston Churchill, but he's dealt with it.
I'm not sure I believe in the Gods anymore. That religion died. The only religion that is still around from when I was around is Christianity, although I didn't know about it when I was alive. Is it a real religion? Is this Purgatory? I've read the Bible (by putting my face into the book page by page, it's an exhausting process). Would "God" really do this?
I've learned almost all the languages, I've seen almost every country on earth, I was there when Hitler shot himself. I know the location of his body, I know why Hitler hated Jews, I know the corruption behind every government. I've exhausted everything. I sit in the Pyramid I was buried in. Hoping for my name to be spoken for the last time. Knowing that many will have to die for it to happen. | 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.
| 2016-01-17T13:04:14 | 2016-01-17T11:19:18 | 24 | 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. | "Okay guys today is a very special day, as I'm sure you're all aware. Today it has been exactly 3000 years since the incredibly popular "Ghosts Named John Smith Society" was first formed by our lord and savoir, John Smith." The crowd of ethereal John Smiths, numbering well into the millions, let's out an underwhelming cheer, walking the face of the earth as nothing more than a whisper for
millennia really takes the energy out of you.
"And to celebrate such an occasion, world renowned mad scientist, John Smith, has an announcement to make!"
"Ladies and gentlemen," the spectacled spirit began, "Today marks the beginning of great change. Seeing as I have had over two thousand years to further my studies, it seems plausible that I would make a discovery or two along the way. My most recent creation, however, will rewrite the face of not only this world, but the previous one too.
"With funding from the economical powerhouse that is the late Donald Trump, I have theorised a way in which every single John Smith can be reborn into the past life!"
The crowd's attention had been caught, it was so quiet, you could hear an ectoplasmatic pin drop.
"Not only shall we be reborn, but we shall be immortal." The cacophonous roar of the crowd caused a wily grin to slowly spread across the face of the wizened old scientist.
"I put it to you, fellow John Smiths of the ethereal plane, that we rise up against those mortals and take back our old home. We shall enter the world of the living and rule as gods! Every last John Smith shall finally be repaid for the purgatorial nightmare we have been bound too for years. Tonight is the night, my friends, that John Smiths shall become gods. | 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.
| 2016-01-17T12:40:16 | 2016-01-17T11:19:18 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] Write about a chess match from the POV of one of the pieces. | Eternal battles fought, and I've no idea why. I do as I'm told, a quiet hand guiding me toward victory- or, sometimes, defeat. Through time, I've started to wonder- why do I fight? There is certainly no longer any glory, and I've grown tired of nothing but death.
Yet, alas, such things are not my place. I am a pawn; a soldier, and my job is to fight. I've come up with reasons: to save my brethren, for the glory of our leader, but none can stick. My job is to kill, and steal away breath.
When will it end? My guess is never; it's always been and will always be a certainty. Why is He my enemy, is it simply our colors? Because we are deemed foes, and forced into battle? I have killed him now, but he could have been a friend in another life.
Maybe, someday, that life will be real; peace and togetherness replacing war and strife.
| It was rare for women to serve in the imperial white army. I had fought tooth and nail for my right to serve. I was still a squire when the time came for battle. The dark army was razing villages to the east and our noble leadership had decided it was time to face them in open battle. Our forces were evenly matched and this battle would all come down to strategy.
I was the first to step forward as I rushed the battlefield and let out a thunderous cry. After, that, things happened very fast. Religious warriors slid across my left and massive warriors referred to as castles fought perpendicular to me. I continued to charge forward as an enemy squire approached me on my right. I utilized all the skills I had picked up over years of training as I lunged at him an thrust my sword upwards through his abdomen. I felt little remorse as he fell.
At last I made out the great warrior queen in my peripheral vision. She was the one that had inspired me to fight in the first place. Setting an example for empowering women throughout the kingdom she had chosen to fight and lead alongside her husband. Her skills were incredible. She was so fast! She flew across the field and took down soldiers in every direction. Then I saw the dark horse leaping from behind the squires. I screamed as there was nothing I could do as he fell the great queen.
My eyes narrowed; I would avenge the queen. I lost all thought as I charged forward on the battlefield. When I reached the backlines where I could finally see the king, I felt my strength grow as my anger surged through me. It was my time to lead. Checkmate, motherfucker. | 2016-02-06T12:31:24 | 2016-02-06T12:13:52 | 44 | 20 |
[WP] "All I'm saying is, the dragon's fire breath was just not hot enough to have melted the castle's support beams."
Found on @AwfulFantasy's twitter account, specifically here; imgur.com/gallery/T9Z1u
Edit: From 0 to top prompt. This subreddit works in mysterious ways. Thanks for the quality responses everyone. | "Dragon's fire can't melt castle beams, Mikhail," I screamed. "They're made of STONE. You can't just melt a stone, fool. I'm telling you- it was black magic, the High Court wanted an excuse to increase their military power, and now they have it. One of them must've sold their soul or flesh to summon a powerful demon that toppled the tower."
Mikhail looked at me with exasperation. "We literally *saw* the dragon melt the castle's support with our own eyes. Are you calling us liars?"
"No! They disguised it as dragons, hiding the demon with dragonfire."
"You're insane. Besides- you know rock melts, right? That's what *magma* is..."
"That happens deep underground, and takes time. Did you see how fast the castle crumbled? I'm telling you, it's a cover up."
"I'm getting tired of these ridiculous accusations. What will you do, go to court and beg them to listen? As a friend, I'm telling you that they'll just lock you in a dungeon for suggesting such madness."
"No, Mikhail, I *did the math*. It's impossible for it to have dropped so quickly without something destroying the base-"
A blurred dagger interrupted my words, piercing through my heart so quickly there was no time to react.
"Mikhail...why?"
"You should've stopped asking questions. Take your last few moments to enjoy that you were right, and be glad you aren't here for what's next." | "I have it right here: 'the dragon's RED flames burned straight through the beams like butter in a pot."
"Yeah, that's what I said. Look, we don't have time for this!"
"Well, frankly, it doesn't add up. Red fire burns at a maximum of eighteen hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Iron beams melt at twenty-seven fifty."
"What are you talking about! Look, this was the dragon's work. What else could have done this?"
"Maybe if it had been orange, we could believe it. But red -- we'd be laughed at if we brought this report in."
"Orange, yeah -- whatever! I misspoke. It was orange. Can we PLEASE deal with the dragon now?"
"That's a negative. My partner here was mistaken, I'm afraid. Would've had to be white -- even further from your claim."
"Ahh, thank you for the correction, Smithers."
"Look! THERE IT IS. It's RIGHT OVER THERE!"
"Sir, is this some kind of joke to you?"
"All citizens have been informed: you're only to call in officers for REAL emergencies. Orc invasions, dark magicians, lost giants, and actual dragons are all covered. But this-"
"Do you think our time is of so little value that you can call us willy-nilly?"
"I'm begging you. Just look behind you, please!"
"You're still not giving up the act, huh?"
"That's it. Three days in the stocks for you, miscreant."
"Just look-"
"Enough."
"They never learn."
"Say, that field's ablaze!"
"Did your imaginary dragon do that too, huh?"
"YES IT DID."
"THOUGHT YOU COULD GET AWAY WITH THAT TOO, HUH?"
"Wha- oof!"
"Well decided, Smithers. Rabble-Rousers should be dealt with quickly and efficiently."
"Yes, I thought I did well to shut him up."
"Indeed. I say, there's a dragon hither, spitting white flames!"
"I almost wish this brute were awake to see what a real beast looks like. Red flames, ha!" | 2016-02-14T09:20:34 | 2016-02-14T07:49:19 | 753 | 15 |
[WP] We contact alien life and find that the vast majority of aliens exist in a slower time frame. Humans are perceived as extremely agile, mentally quick, and have very short lives. | “They say they’re as fast as a Snuqial.” the Private said, trying to hide his increased level of anxiety.
“Have you ever hunted Sunqial? ‘Cuz if you had you’d know a Human would smoke a Sunqial. Run them both from here to Tyrawon and the Human will be back a full DAY before the Sunqial!”
The Lieutenant was hiding his anxiety too. Drawing security duty for one of the Human’s Ambassadors had turned into a hazing ritual inside the Planetary Defense Corp. Doing well during your tour gained you respect and often led to a quick promotion. Falling short led to months of ridicule.
Not that the Humans were in any danger. Far from it. Their mental abilities were on par with the greatest minds of the Galactic Planetary Union and had contributed to the most amazing advances in technology. And they had done it all in an incredibly short amount of time.
Well, a short time compared to the Union anyway. For all their brilliance, Human lives were incredibly short. Ten generations would pass in only 2 cycles, a phenomenon previously reserved for small rodents like the Mqika or aquatic creatures like the Bqasata.
First contact with the Humans baffled the Union scientists. They had seen similar behavior on the quantum level, but nothing on the macro level. Experiments were devised, tested, revised and tested again until the quantum flux disparity was solved. Three generations of Humans had come and gone before even a simple way of communicating with them could be established.
Containing them was a whole other problem. The first generations were confined to reinforced padded rooms to limit their damage, a move the Union would later deeply regret. The Humans regretted their own actions as well. They apologized profusely for acting like “Bulls in a China Shop”, whatever that meant.
Their speed was embedded in their DNA in a way that seemed to bend the laws of physics. One second they’re right next to you and the next second they’re across the room. Everything within a meter along their path experiences a shockwave strong enough to put any Union soldier on his back.
“A hundred meters from the hangar to their quarters, then 150 meters down to the market level. Rough estimate puts us at 14 seconds. Eat your Pqata this morning soldier?”
“Yes sir. Four heaping bowls.”
“Good. You’re gonna need it.”
The Private shuffled his feet as if to sharpen them somehow. They can’t be that fast, he thought. 14 seconds down to the market?
“Lieutenant, can I ask you something?”
“Yes, I had my Pqata this morning too.”
“It’s not that sir. I was wondering…”, he lowered his voice, “have you heard about that Human formula they’re testing? Something called Qaphin?”
“How’d you hear about that?”
“It’s been going around the base all month.”
“Yeah… I heard about it. Heard the nasty side effects too. Want your heart to explode? How about going crazy from all the thoughts in your head? The shaking, the sweats, the violent shitting. Does that sound like something you want to mess with Private?”
“No sir.”
“Then I don’t want to hear another word about it. That’s above our pay grade. You just focus on trying to keep up.”
The Lieutenant tilted his head side to side, rotated his shoulders, and wiggled his legs.
Maybe, the Private thought, he should’ve had 5 bowls of Pqata. | "So, as I was saying, my dear, old friend, or might I even say, my '*dearest, oldest*' friend, ha ha h--nj-hhhh-zz-ggggghhhh-nj-hhhhzz ..."
Ambassador Brigel was caught in a fit of coughing and it was hard to not roll my eyes at this pathetic creature. I pretended to be concerned and patted him, very reluctantly, on his back, careful not to come too close to any of his twitching back holes which were wisely not covered up by the special pressure suit we had designed for his species. Jerry, from behind the bullet-proof glass which separated this interrogation cell from the recording room must have noticed the disgust on my face and gave me a thumbs-up delivered in company with one of his patented shit-eating grins.
A child of a different era would've been amazed at my job description, but to my mother-in-law I suppose I'll always remain the "The Least Successful Snake Oil Merchant of Earth", God bless her soul. I was basically Earth's figurehead, situated in a deep-space research station 39 ly away from home, the farthest sector we had ever reached, which was formerly operated only by robots. It was all peace and quiet until twenty-two years ago when we made first contact, after which we had rushed to convert it into Earth's preliminarily only official embassy. To make place for a venue where we could welcome those strange starfarers in for a cup of tea and a mutual evaluation of the interests and cultures of our people. It was kind of saddening to know that that strange, unshapely molluscoid being in front of me, which was convulsing with spasms of coughing and exuded the faint scent of rotten vegetables, might have been a youngster when my great-great-grandfather was still shitting his diaper on Mars. He finally seemed to regain his composure, though ...
"Why don't we sit down, Ambassador?", I suggested and proceeded to make a waving gesture with my left hand towards the ensemble of cheap-looking, colorful chintz sofas and reclining chairs we had arranged for such an occasion (my right hand was still patting his back, hopefully I wasn't contracting any sort of weird disease right now).
"M-marvelous idea, y-you young whippersnapper!" I glanced over to the recording room after being surprised at this weird choice of words from the translating software and noticed that Jerry had positively lost his shit ...
"I do feel a bit fatigued from wearing this suit all day, I hope to return to my spaceship soon, you know?"
So did I. God, I hated this job.
"So where were we, Ambassador? You know, about what we were discussing before, the matter of allowing our ships from Earth to travel through your borders and ..."
"Your SHIPS? In Ambsh'gug territory? I, I must object!" It was basically the same song and dance every time we invited one of these clowns over ...
"Ambassador, do you have any idea where we are, right now? I mean, are you aware of the exact whereabouts of this space station where we are located at this very moment of time?", trying my best to keep my voice devoid of any anger or impertinence. We both looked out of the curved window which gave away to a splendid overview of Gash'brun complete with its surrounding orbital stations, asteroid mines and satellites, not unlike Earth but smaller and somehow "murkier", the sickly womb which gave birth to these overgrown slugs in the mist of time; it was basically looking at a man with his pants down, and my conversational partner made no secret whatsoever of his amazement.
"When, when ... DID you?", he sputtered, visibly disturbed at this unreal sight. To them, the purple skies of Ambsh'gug had always looked the same, our building crews and freighter chains never making them go: "Huh? I wonder what that's all about?", and since none of their species showed even the slightest interest in astronomy, one light in the night sky more or less was safe from ever garnering any untimely attraction.
This world is as good as ours, I thought gleefully and cleared my throat. | 2016-08-22T19:10:46 | 2016-08-22T18:22:03 | 696 | 386 |
[WP] We contact alien life and find that the vast majority of aliens exist in a slower time frame. Humans are perceived as extremely agile, mentally quick, and have very short lives. | The twitchy creatures bounced around their cell faster than I could follow. The only time I could make sense of what they were doing, without slowing down the video feed by many orders of magnitude, was when they slept. But even then, they only remained motionless for a couple of breaths, before bouncing back up and resuming their ceaseless, blurring motion.
"As I was saying, we've collected measurements for several of their lifespans now. Their natural lifespan is only a couple of dozen revolutions. They gestate inside the body of one of the progenitors for around a quarter of a revolution. They then go through a sort of hatchling phase for around two revolutions, where the individual is basically helpless and cared for by it's progenitors. From what we've observed of their natural societies, the individual is then typically educated for a few more revolutions before being recognized as a full member of their society."
"Wait a second. From what we've observed, they've made their own digital computers, they've mastered fission and fusion. They've got rudimentary spaceflight. Are you telling me that each individual is able to learn all of this in only a few revolutions' time?"
"No, none of them learns it all. Each individual is heavily specialized in a very limited field of knowledge. One human might be the most knowledgeable member of his species when it comes to designing propulsion systems, but knows absolutely nothing about biology. Collectively, the society contains all the knowledge needed, but each individual only has a tiny portion of it."
"I suppose that makes sense. They couldn't possibly educate themselves properly in their tiny lifespans. Are they a hivemind then, like the Quareeza?"
"No, we assumed that at first. Since each individual is so specialized, most of them are almost helpless without support from the others - Only a small portion of them could even produce the food they need to survive."
"Well, how do they survive then?"
"Well, they have, uh, food-producer specialists, for a lack of a better term. The food-producers spend most their time producing food, and then the food-producer specialists give the non-food-producers their food."
"What? Why would they do that?"
"They have a very complex system of mutual reciprocation. The food-humans need equipment to make all that food, and they give some of the equipment-making-humans food in exchange for food-making equipment. Their entire society is built around this kind of thing."
"Amazing."
One of the specimens we were observing died. The others dug a hole in the ground, performed some kind of ritual, put their dead partner in the hole, and filled it back up. It happened in the blink of an eye.
"Do we know why they live for such a short period?"
"Their genetic code replication mechanism is flawed. It degrades every time it's replicated, which leads to compounding errors, which eventually leads to organ failure and death. This is compounded by the fact that their metabolism is obviously very fast, which means that each cell has a very short lifespan, necessitating more replication."
"What about their thinking? Do we know how they manage to keep up with their own bodies?"
"Well, that's the most incredible thing. They think with electrical impulses."
"You're telling me that they're basically computers? Are they digital?"
"No. They're not digital. We're still absolutely baffled by how their brains work - It's just a giant heap of specialized cells which send electrical impulses to each other, almost at random, from what we can tell. We haven't got a clue how consciousness arises from that, or even if they're truly conscious. But, once the brain decides to do something, it sends electrical signals to the body which compel the muscles to act. From the moment they make a decision, the body starts carrying out that decision only in the time it takes photons to travel from their brain to their muscles."
I shivered. Our projections of their technological advancement predicted that they'd discover FTL in only a few thousand rotations. The prospect of sharing a galaxy with those relentless blurs of motion terrified me. | "I wonder what it's like in there," Kevin said as I flicked my cigarette down in the ravine below. My neck was sore from staring at the ship, and I knew I'd feel it in the morning.
"I bet they know." I motioned to the watchtowers which had recently been erected below the magnificent vessel in the sky.
"They just don't tell us," I continued, "because if it's something fucked up, they wouldn't want people to panic." The light from the setting sun gleamed brilliantly off the vessel. The light show would soon begin.
Kevin opened his mouth, but then hesitated mid thought. I took this opportunity to grab another smoke from the pack sitting between us. Whether he noticed or not, he didn't seem to mind.
"They don't know anything, man. If they did, we would too. Who knows, maybe it is just some sort of alien drone like they say, but I think there are aliens aboard."
"Well, it makes sense doesn't it? Why send a crew when you'r-" My words faltered as a beam of shone across the ledge we were sitting on. Kevin began to rub his hands together frantically as a smile grew across his face.
"OH BOY HERE WE GO"
Suddenly, the dark ravine was lit brighter than it had been earlier in the afternoon. Though I had already seen this a hundred times, each time was like the first. The setting sun had bathed the faceted vessel and it shone brilliantly in the light, giving off a glittering disco-ball like effect. Even the moon (which we were lucky enough to see tonight) was lit up with rectangular spots of light, which raced quickly across the surface. The rotation of the vessel was almost indiscernible to the eye, but the way the light patches soared across ground revealed the great object's dull momentum.
Just as suddenly as the reflections had began, they now began to draw further away as the sun began to doze beyond the horizon.
I yawned and stretched, clearing my throat and hawking a ball of cigarette phlegm into the ravine below. I watched it as is broke apart on it's way down.
"So," Kevin said in a suggestive way, "Pizza?"
"Nah, sorry man, I got work in the morning".
I didn't have work the next day, but as much as I enjoyed hanging out with Kevin, I just couldn't bear another couple hours of him talking about the UFO. It was all anyone had talked about since the three years since it had arrived, and my hometown had become the centre of the universe, as far as the rest of the world was concerned.
It's ridiculous, I thought to myself as I made way way through the packed streets towards my apartment. Some people are actually paying crazy amounts of money just for a place to stay in town. They really think this thing's actually going to open up, idiots. If there had been a time, it would've been when they first landed.
I took one last look as I reached my apartment door, elbowing those who were leaned against it, staring vacantly at the ship. Come to think of it, lots of people were staring at it tonight, more than usual. And the light show had been over for quite some time now. I tapped one of the onlookers on the shoulder, "Hey, what's the deal with the UFO? Why's everyone in such a fuss about it tonight?"
The stranger looked at me curiously, he had a wild look in his eye, and clearly wasn't from town. One of the UFO nutjobs who had shown up when this had all began.
He made deep, uncomfortable eye contact with me and said, "Don't you listen to the radio, guy? The UFO started rotating counter-clockwise today"
"Cool man, it's done all sorts of odd things, it's a UFO, right? Nothing that won't be there tomorrow, not worth getting a cold over." He smiled at me dismissively and nodded. When I got into my apartment I was bushed from the walk back from the ravine, so I didn't bother taking my shoes off, I just tossed by bag on the floor and then laid down in bed on my back, looking up through the skylight at the stars.
I had just shut my eyes when I heard a loud whooping noise, which slowly grew louder into a cheer. I sat up in bed and started fumbling with my shoelaces, as the muted noises from the crowd outside grew from cheers to screams.
"Oh shit," I said silently to myself. After three long years of hovering over the town like a silent sentinel, the UFO had begun to awaken... | 2016-08-22T21:37:20 | 2016-08-22T21:02:54 | 88 | 10 |
[WP] The Illuminati is actually a gentlemen's club for the super-rich. Often men make high risk and dangerous bets/wagers such as: "I bet you can't destabilize Ukraine in under a week." One day you offer a wager to the most powerful member that's too irresistible to turn down. | (Illuminati prompt aww yis)
For being a world-renowned R&B superstar and having topped the Forbes Celebrity 100, the people in this club pay me surprisingly little attention. Maybe some are scared of angering me. Maybe some know I'm married. Maybe some think I'm one of the strippers here. All the better for me, I suppose. Most of these narrow-minded, old-money pricks would never suspect that a woman could hold so much power within our organization. That's how Madonna walked free after Michael Jackson's untimely demise, and that's why Paula Deen'll get away with ending Anthony Bourdain.
Fortunately for this crowd, I have no one I particularly want dead. They'll live for another day, to drink, to gamble, to form alliances, to make enemies. In-between concerts and tours I'll often drop by this club to get my kicks in. One of my favorite forms of entertainment is watching these monkeys try to one-up each others' ridiculous challenges. "I dare you, I double-dare you, I triple-dog-dare you!" It's like a kindergarten playground, but the participants each have the net worth of Afghanistan's GDP.
Some of the challenges are rather tame, like "A million says you can't film a Marvel movie in North Korea." Others are the reason Zika's spreading across the Western Hemisphere. Some long-awaited video game was produced 17 years before originally scheduled, scientific evidence linking vaccines to autism began appearing, and just three weeks ago the Westboro Baptist Church converted to Pastafarianism. Heck, the challenges are why Trump is running for president (and turning a significant profit, might I add).
Nowadays I prefer to watch these games from the sidelines, but I did place a bet once. Just once, a long time ago. I was still young, brimming with confidence after my last tour's success, and I put everything I had on the line. So much could have gone wrong. I felt drunk, crazy almost, yet I went ahead and took the gamble. The man I was risking everything on was sitting across right across the table from me. I walked up to him and sat on his lap, leaning in until our foreheads were touching. "Dare you to marry me," I whispered, feeling his heart beat beneath my hands. In that moment I knew what his answer would be.
A few months later, the Illuminati added another power couple to their ranks, one whose influence stands unrivaled to this day. Together, we hold sway over just about everyone. Alone, I am mistaken for a club worker, and Jay-Z is ignored by the inner circle. I don't mind his standing. He may not be the most powerful member of the organization, but he's the only one who has control of my heart. | I watch the clown on my 52 inchTV, he delivers yet another embarrassing news conference making a spectacle of our entire political system. How did we get here? I must confess, it is all my fault. I belong to a gentlemen's club for what are termed, super-rich. One day, after enjoying a round of golf with my bud Mark, we were watching some golf in the deck, when out comes a commercial for The Apprentice. There, in all his gaudy glory is Donald J. Trump, the show's host. He has always wanted to join us, but he is neither rich enough, and far too crass. An idea pops up in my head, and I cannot contain it. "Mark", I say, "let's make a bet!" Mark turns to me and says, "sure, what do you want to lose $2 million on this time?" You see, a few months back, I bet Mark he wouldn't be able to destabilize Ukraine, by getting Russia to annex Crimea. I bet him $2 million that not even he could pull that off. I lost, as did Ukraine. I'm still smarting about that, especially since before that even, I lost another bet to Mark that he wouldn't be able to get Russia to attack Georgia, and annex part of its territory without a firm NATO response. As most of you no doubt know, I also lost that bet. That's what we do as super rich, we bet against one another for various reasons, but mostly pride in our prowess as movers and shakers. This time, I thought I had something that even Mark could not do. "I said, Mark, $5 million says you cannot make Trump a serious contender for the American Presidency." Mark responds "Listen Jack, I can do this, I can even make him win the whole damn thing, question is, do you really want me to do it? I mean, sure you lose $5 million, but how much will the country lose?" I say, "scared? he replies, "No, in fact, let's break this down into pieces, I promise you that not only will he run for President, but I will make him run and win as a Republican!" I laugh, and say, "the guy's a New Yorker, and a pretty liberal one at that, there's no way he'll get past the primary!" Mark replies, "Well, let's make it interesting. $1 million says he runs as a Republican, $ 2 million more says he wins the primary, and $5 million says he wins the Presidency. Just remember bud, I warned you that this was likely nothing you or I, or anyone else really wanted." I laugh it off, and say, "sure, but this time, I have you beat Mark. There is no way in hell that loud mouth can control himself to not make an ass out of himself, and his liberal positions will likely undermine his campaign until he has to withdraw. Besides, if that doesn't do him in his having 5 kids by 3 different wives should do it with the bible thumpers. Face it Mark, this time, I have the upper hand." After we sealed our pact, we went back to smoking cigars, drank a few drinks, then each headed home. My helicopter was waiting on deck, but Mark took his yacht. Others in the room, began to wager as they often do, to see who they thought would come out on top. Now here we are. What have I done? | 2016-08-23T16:44:49 | 2016-08-23T13:00:40 | 150 | 94 |
[WP] Your grandparents always playfully bickered in their native language. To surprised them, you took lessons, but now you understand what they're really saying...
What comes next will shock you! | I was happy, when registering for my first semester of college, to see my school offered intro to Russian. My grandparents came to America during World War II but would still talk Russian to each other, even after all this time. They focused on assimilation, especially during the cold war, so very little of the language was passed down to my dad, and none to me.
After four months of study I could have a very basic conversation with my grandparents in their native language. I thought that would be a great Christmas present for them. December 24th rolls around and like every Christmas Eve of my life they show up for our family dinner. Looking over some of my flashcards I hear my grandparents in the hallway talking in Russian. Just before I come out to greet them I catch a word that sounds familiar. It’s repeated a few more times so I pick up my textbook and turn to the dictionary. Expecting to find the Russian word for Christmas, or turkey I find the word for kill.
Thinking I misheard them I go back to my door and listen very carefully to their conversation. I catch the words for son, grandson, daughter, tonight, airport, and after three repeats I was certain, kill.
The Russian turns back into English as my dad walks over to them. “Mom, Jen was wondering if you could help her with the potatoes, and dad I printed out those papers you asked for.”
“Sure sweetie, tell Jen I’ll be happy to help.”
Dad leaves and the sweet matronly tone is replaced with a cold Russian response I can roughly translate as, ‘I kill her. You kill him. We kill boy.’
I dial 911 on my cell but before I can explain the crazy situation I’m in, my grandma opens my door. “Hey sweet pea, want to come help your mom and me with dinner. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.” Not seeing a believable excuse to get away I say sure, put the phone in my pocket and hope the police can trace it for the location.
Once in the hall my sweet old grandma looks in my room and sees the open Russian textbook and piles of flashcards. With a smile she asks, “So you’re studying Russian. Learn anything interesting?”
| When I was younger I always thought my grandparents had their own made-up language. It sounded like a melody, almost like they were singing to each other. I always used to ask them why they had their own language, but they just smiled and told me; "You will know when you get older, honey."
I pouted, I was going to find out no matter what. I eavesdropped and memorised some of the words, "berätta", "henne" and "troll". I continued to eavesdrop, I learned a couple of words, but not much more than that. But there was always a variety of the same sentence that they repeated, but I never understood what they meant with it; "Du vet varför vi gör det, snart är tiden inne." Sometimes I repeated this sentence before I was going to sleep, it made me happy, I was onto them.
Last summer I found out the language they are speaking is Swedish, and since I have always wanted to learn the language I took some courses. I was so excited when I got my certificate, I went straight to my grandparents house to show them.
As we drank tea I told them about my course and I repeated the phrase they always used to say; "Du vet varför vi gör det, snart är tiden inne." and made some forced joke about how incredible I was to have found out their secret language. The look on my grandparents faces were haunting. Something wild flashed in their eyes, they appeared to get bigger and hairier. My comment had taken them by surprise, showing their true appearance. I grew silent.
"You know why we do it, soon it is time."* It was my grandpa talking. "Who would have thought she would find out our secret before she was ripe." He stood up, walked over to the window and closed the curtains.
"Yes, not what we had expected. But now we cannot wait any longer, the feast must take place, especially now when she knows our secret" Grandma paid no attention to the actions of grandpa. She was staring, her eyes never leaving me. Grandpa walked out of the kitchen. A loud click was heard.
"My dear, this would all have been easier if you had not been so..." the way she spoke, there was no melody anymore "...intrusive". Grandma's eyes were slowly turning from comforting green to pitch black.
My palms were wet, I was breathing rapidly, then adrenaline kicked in. I jumped from the table and ran for the door. It was locked, I slammed into it, but it would not budge. I fell to the ground with tears welling out. As I sat on the floor I saw an enormous pot, and what used to be my grandpa next to it, stirring.
”Now you are old enough, honey.”
It was the last thing I heard before all turned to black.
*Translation error, fixed.
| 2016-09-09T14:49:34 | 2016-09-09T14:31:32 | 190 | 101 |
[WP] "Sir, we have found a planet so toxic and inhospitable, I could not even imagine a place so hostile. However, it even has sentient life, calling themselves "humans", who seem entirely unaffected!"
Number 1 in hot overnight. Yaaaaay...
Keep it up. Today, /r/WritingPrompts, tomorrow, the World! | [BEGIN TRANSLATION]
"They breathe *rocket fuel*?"
"Ye... yes sir. And..."
"They're immersed in the vapors of rocket fuel and you expect me to believe their whole planet doesn't simply combust?"
"Well... They *do* have combustion events with great regularity, but they never reach that scale..."
"Don't be a fool! We all know that [*Unintelligible*] would become like a sun if it had this amount of fuel gas!"
"Sir, they lack sufficient carbon."
"What?"
"Their... their combustion events end when their carbon is depleted. This planet swims not in methane, but in liquid ice!"
"In poison!"
"The life here consumes the liquid ice. It dies for lack of it."
"Preposterous. We visit this planet far too close to its sun to be habitable and you tell me stories of life-forms breathing rocket fuel and drinking a toxic solvent. Next you'll tell me they eat sunbeams!"
"Sir..."
"Teacher, you can't be serious."
"Firstborn, we harvested one of the dominant forms of life and found the only way for it to grow was outside the Shadow, in harsh solar irradiation, with liquid ice and the vapor of combusted carbon. The temperatures it required were so high we had to place its chambers nearer the rockets than any other chamber on this craft!"
"Is the dominant life form sentient?"
"No sir. It grows slowly and does not move, but..."
"Teacher?"
"This particular life form emits oxygen."
[*unintelligible rasping*]
"Firstborn, you mock me, but I believe we may have a solution to our fuel shortage. For the first time ever, we have domesticated a creature that reverts combusted carbon to release fuel."
"Very well, Teacher. You may harvest these... these *things*, but don't bring them to [*Unintelligible*]. Leave them on the labs in the Rings. If your claims are true, we may be able to risk further expeditions to this planet."
"Yes, sir."
"Be safe, Teacher, and take care to not burn yourself from the planet's heat."
[END OF SIGNAL] | "The universe sure is a marvelous place" - Captain Ytrom said. "How high did you say the concentration of the oxygen in their atmosphere is?"
"21 percent, Sir" - his adjutant Llabwons replied, eyeing the blue ball of horror behind the illuminator.
"21 percent, huh. Makes you wonder how their whole planet didn't spontaneously combust".
"Our scientists are actually still working on that answer, Sir. they suggest that we kidnap of them to inspect them closer".
"Alien on my ship?" - the captain shook his head. "Their gravity is 7 times stronger than on our planet. I'm surprised they even managed to develop some sort of a brain, but they do a nice job keeping it up. And imagine how strong they are! Do they want a fire-breathing Juggernaut running around our ship, hunting us all down?"
"I think they've dreamed of it since their childhood, Sir".
"I thought so. Well, did they manage to learn something else about this planet or its inhabitants?"
"Let me see" - Llabwons went through his notes, trying to find something worthy of interesting or just downright bizarre. "It appears that their planet is highly unstable: it is not tidally locked with their star and thus the same region experiences constant changes in lighting".
"you mean their light side can get dimmer?" - the captain raised his pseudo-brow.
"No, Sir, they have no light side. Their planet is not turned with one side to the star, it constantly spins around its axis".
"So you tell me that their eyes can adapt to such rapid changes?"
"They can't imagine it any other way, Sir. In fact, the temperature changes as well during this cycle, making it impossible for our kind to gestate with ease".
"Oh, I see" - the captain rubbed his beak with his tentacles, before turning to his adjutant. "I guess we have no choice but to erase it all and terraform it to our liking. Commence the orbital bombardment".
The door to the cockpit suddenly opened and a man walked in. For a moment he stared at them in shock, and then, shaking his fist, hollered: "I've been looking for my notes all day! Have you hoodlums finished scrubbing the deck?"
"No, Captain" - the duo replied in sync.
"Then you better get to it, or I might use a small company during my visit to sister".
______
Eh.
[You know why I'm here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Scandalist/comments/4n4iu6/authors_message_welcome_new_readers/)
| 2016-11-07T15:22:28 | 2016-11-07T14:18:03 | 904 | 90 |
[WP] One normal day you see a mouse pointer move across your field of vision, right click, and delete an object. | August 14, 2000:
The day started as normal as any other, waking up in my bed and all. I open the fridge to see what's to eat. Nothing, same as yesterday. On the bright side, it's been so long since my power got shut off, anything in there would spoil anyway. I grab the baking powder and brush my teeth. It's not ideal, but it's good enough until I can buy more paste. At least I'm not totally unbearable - I think.
As I watch myself brush in the mirror, I saw it. It was so quick, I feel like I was lucky to be there, otherwise I think I'd be in the asylum. Out of the blue this little white thing came by and touched the few last things I own. My scarf just disappeared, and not long after that, so did my boots. One by one the white thing took all my belongings, right down to the bed. It was everything I had, and now I'm officially without ANY possessions. I guess with the few dollars I have left, I can stop and get some liquor to keep me warm at least. I throw on my bandana to cover my bare scalp, and grab my gloves. It's fairly cold today.
The white thing has since vanished, which makes me feel a little more safe. I start walking into town, eating any berries I can find along the way.
Suddenly I see the white thing again. I'm so scared, I jump into the bush. I don't want to vanish with my former belongings. I peer through the bush and watch as the white thing moves around. It seems to be attached to a young girl, helping her find her way. She must know where my stuff is, maybe she can help me.
She comes closer to me, and I figure this is a good chance to get her attention. I get out of the bush, and seemingly without looking in my direction, I can tell she can sense me. She stares off into the distance as if she's asking it a question. The white thing starts coming towards me. It's too fast, I can't get away. I close my eyes as I know I'm about to vanish. But I don't. *click* it says, and it touches my chest. Immediately the little girl looks at me. She tells me to leave her alone.
But I just want to ask her about my things
She tells me to leave again
She won't let me explain
Once more she tells me to leave, and I just can't approach her. I'm held back by some force I've never felt before. Aw man. I guess today I don't get my chance to take my things back. I'll find her again tomorrow, and take them back by force if it comes down to that.
Be prepared little girl. Next time you and your little monkey won't be able to stop me from swiping. | I reported the incidence yesterday to my superiors. During my evening hike, I had seen a mouse pointer delete an entire forest, even the ground on which the cedars and pines had stood had disappeared too, leaving a gaping hole that reached the centre of the earth. I hadn't been the only one to witness this, the area was popular for hikes and picnics and parties, but I'd been the only NASA employee, the only astronaut around, and I was the one who could immediately inform the people with the power to launch a rocket into space and destroy the mouse pointer.
Why would we need to launch a rocket into space to destroy the mouse pointer? Because from the moment I saw the phenomenon of an entire forest disappearing into oblivion, I knew the thing had escaped from Area 51 and that it would launch itself into space. It would then right click and delete the earth, in the blink of an eye. I foresaw all this as I stood panting from my hike, screaming people around me, and, without wasting time, I'd informed my superiors of my theories. Next thing I knew, I was on a mission to space with three others, strapped up securely in a seat, ready to destroy the pointer to a million pieces. The whole world was watching.
From the launch site, if you looked eastwards, you could see a large thick cloud of smoke, grey and toxic like a poisonous mushroom. Lava had begun to flow from the gaping hole where the forest had once been. I felt invigorated and heroic as the rocket blasted off upwards; we were doing this for the people of earth.
The pointer was no bigger than a car, but that didn't make its dreams of eradicating our entire existence any smaller. To test the waters, it had already deleted the moon and we were certain it very much intended to move onto bigger prey like our Earth. We could see it from inside our rocket, triangular and menacing, but it was moving away from us rapidly, and we followed it, trying to get a good aim, but we couldn't keep up and soon it was swallowed up by space. We thought it was maybe malfunctioning, there was an expert on Area 51 stuff on board with us who uncertainly explained its behavior, and we were just about to call the mission off when it hit me.
"The sun!" I breathed. "It's headed for the sun!"
Everyone started chattering at once, and then someone said we wouldn't be able to catch it in time, unless...
"Unless what?" we all said.
"Well..." Tyrique, a balding astrophysicist looked sheepishly at his hands. "Unless we bring out the *big one*."
"You mean that *one*?" I said amazed. "The one that travels at the speed of light. I thought it wasn't going to be ready for another 20 years."
"It's ready, alright," Tyrique said. "We're just not confident enough to use it yet. I mean this is the fucking speed of light we're talking about. So many things could happen, good or bad."
There was a heavy silence for a minute and then I said, "Well, we're going to have to take our chances. For the people of earth. If the sun goes out, we're all gonna freeze to death anyway."
We all exchanged looks, nodded with grim agreement, and then Hannah turned the rocket around back towards earth. We were going to try our best to stop the monster before it switched off the lights and gained an advantage over us in the impenetrable darkness.
| 2017-02-05T13:33:15 | 2017-02-05T13:30:26 | 105 | 14 |
[WP]You are a guard in a video game. The main character thinks that they are always able to successfully sneak past you. They don't, you notice every time but would prefer not to have you and your friends be mercilessly slaughtered. | I can see him, creeping from shadow to shadow in some pretense of stealth, the most wanted man in Dunwall, dressed up in that odd metal mask, and dark coat. He has shining sword in one hand, miraculous that it hasn't been stolen by a covetous bird, and a fully automatic pistol that is illegal in all The Isles. He thinks he cannot be seen, but to avoid trouble I pour myself a glass of whisky, light up a cigar and turn to my fellow guardsmen and ask; *"You think you'll get you're own squad after what happened last night?"*
He smiles nervously; eyes avoiding the obvious elephant in the room, who is currently fiddling with some tanks of whale oil powering an arc gate nearby, and in a forced tone replies; "*Chances are very good*"
"What was that?" I continue, turning in the opposite direction of the intruder as he breaks a few bottles over the head of a few wandering weepers. I can feel his eyes trained on me along with his firearm, as he wonders whether his ruse is up.
*"Must have been the rats"* My compatriots nod several times, mumbling *"indeed
, I believe so."*
I glance back, to see him picking the lock to Doctor Galvani's office. *Whew, that was close...*
The threat over with, I ask my fellow watchman about something that actually matters:
*"Did you hear that Overseer, Ricardo memorized Litany on the White-cliff in a single night?*
| “Shh,” he sounded, “do you hear that?” The screams of Rory and Monty echoed through the chambers in unison like a choir conducted by death himself.
I stopped in my tracks, like a dear in headlights,
and looked up at him, forcing a slow, but forceful nod in his direction. He made a careful, but swift motion towards the gun in his holster and unclipped it, only to notice me then forcefully shaking my head, my body still poised like a statue.
I raised my hand slowly and extended it in his direction. “Leave it,” I whispered.
“But—”
“Leave it.”
His hand lifted slowly from the gun as he raised both arms as if to surrender himself to me. “What the hell are we supposed to do then?” I looked past him towards the janitors closet, and gestured towards it with my chin. “Again? Fuck, man, it smells in there.”
“Do you wanna fucking die?” I exclaimed in an angry sigh.
“Ummm…” He took a step back, and his hand lowered back down to his pistol, forcing his fingers to slowly curl around the grip.
“What?” I stood straight and slowly turned around to see the hero stood still and staring at us both. “Fuck,” I mumbled. I began to take slow steps backwards and unclipped my pistol from its pouch.
The hero, however, remained perfectly still, perched precariously in the doorway, staring aimlessly in our direction.
*Why isn’t he moving?* I thought to myself. *This has never happened before.*
Voices from the heavens began to speak in muffled, but audible tones, “why aren’t they attacking me?” The hero remained perfectly still. “Should I leave them alone?” The hero remained perfectly still. “Is it a glitch?” The hero remained perfectly still.
We continued to take slow and careful steps backwards, our hands firmly around our pistols, hoping that nothing more would come of this encounter.
“Yea, take them out,” the voice returned, and in a flash I heard a muffled scream from my compatriot behind me.
“Fucking online gamers,” I mumbled, before a bullet pierced my back and tore through my heart. | 2017-05-29T03:20:22 | 2017-05-29T01:00:55 | 29 | 17 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | It's the best deal in town. You can be the student you always wanted to be. However long it takes. You'll get there, to have the time of your life. When I wanted him. History doesn't repeat itself, but it rhymes. Sunny and 72 degrees. Except where prohibited by law. He grabbed her hand.
She stopped twisting the radio dial and stepped outside, into the sunshine. | I'm tired and I want to go home, but I can't. Not until she is dead, I've come this far I have to see it through. There is a sound at the door and I hasten to shut and lock it. Now is not a time for interruptions, there is work to be done. I pull open the bottom drawer, it's full of tools of the trade. I slip on a pair of gloves. It's nearly time, my hands start to shake. I can't look her in the eyes as she lies their nearly motionless. Instead I focus on her breathing, counting the seconds between her breaths. Her breathing starts to slow, then suddenly stops. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. After a moment I pick up the phone. "Hello, this is Michael from your mother's nursing home. I'm calling to let you know that your mother has passed away. I understand that you are out of town until the end of the month. I just wanted to assure you that she wasn't alone at the end."
edit: I'm a caregiver in real life. | 2017-08-30T06:54:31 | 2017-08-30T05:08:01 | 5,691 | 169 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | It's the best deal in town. You can be the student you always wanted to be. However long it takes. You'll get there, to have the time of your life. When I wanted him. History doesn't repeat itself, but it rhymes. Sunny and 72 degrees. Except where prohibited by law. He grabbed her hand.
She stopped twisting the radio dial and stepped outside, into the sunshine. | He gazed into the distance, smiling as a cool breeze hit him.
It reminded him of a memory of his childhood, the first time he played in the rain. All the cousins gathered at Grandpa's house and played various games for hours. The uncles and aunts joined them after a while and everyone then hosed off after the rain.
"Man, sis would have loved this", he said out loud.
He walked on ahead to find an old electronics shop, perhaps battered by a storm a few years ago. There were signs for "The new Nintendo Switch" down on the floor, musty and a little crumpled.
The sun started setting down as he walked back home.
"I'm home! ", he declared as he stepped in. He opened the fridge to grab some pasta he saved from earlier.
He laid down on the bed, as he did everyday around 8 PM.
"If only I had the ability to go back in time" he said out loud. "I would have atleast had a point of return"
He manifested a ball of energy on the palm of his hand as he thought to himself,
"Maybe killing everyone to save the planet wasn't a good idea".
| 2017-08-30T06:54:31 | 2017-08-30T05:46:13 | 5,691 | 46 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | *How had it come to this?*
As I collapsed in the heat, I despaired over how foolish I was, as I recalled the events that led to my predicament.
I thought myself intelligent. Overcoming trial after trial with little difficulty, jumping though hoops and going far. I believed the sweet whispers of the devil and became full of myself, that I was invincible. That the power I had, that gave me so many shortcuts, was somehow my God-given right.
Of course, this was all a sham. I had been played for a fool; toyed like a puppet from the very beginning. What I had been granted, what I thought was mine- it was all for her amusement. The gifts, the promises of celebration, the sweet prize- all of it lies, to deceive me into doing her bidding.
I ignored the most obvious of signs, even the warnings of my dear companion, and betrayed him to the monster. Perhaps this was my retribution; that I face the same fate he did.
As I succumbed to the flames and darkness took me, only one final thought flashed across my mind.
The cake is a lie.
Edit: Wow, thanks for the gold :) | Glass
Lottery was like my religion. I would treat everyday like Sunday. Everyday, I'd pray about my six numbers. I would even kneel. Because I was desperately hoping. Always. Always hoping to hit the jackpot.
I'd always wanted to buy my wife those south sea pearls her mother passed down unto her, but she pawned as we were poor and needed the money for my medication. And that pink dress on the mall she can only afford to stare at every time we would pass by that cheap local boutique. I can only hold her hands and smile during that painful walk by the mall. Maybe someday. Someday.
I ran down the stairs. Still fazed by my lack of my waking up ritual. But I'm used to it. Because it was always the same. Like every morning of any other day. And with hopes higher than the previous day, I was devastated by the greeting of my empty balcony. With no signs of that rolled paper thrown by that young underpaid boy. I waited. Frustrated.
I was woken up by a the touch of compacted sheets softly hitting my head and the faint chuckle of that poor boy with the sound of his bicycle chain slowly fading out the melodies of the morning songs of the birds.
I smiled. Opened the remains of what was a tree, and was greeted by that familiar smell that again woke up my hopes. And right there. At that very moment. I was happy. Because finally. Finally.
She looks so beautiful on that pink dress. With that smile that makes all the seven wonders dull. And with a tight grip I held the pearls on my shaking hands. Then tears bean falling my eyes. My eyes that hunger for her sight.
And I heard that clack. As my tears that fell down was stopped by the glass on her casket. | 2017-08-30T07:52:39 | 2017-08-30T07:26:10 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | *How had it come to this?*
As I collapsed in the heat, I despaired over how foolish I was, as I recalled the events that led to my predicament.
I thought myself intelligent. Overcoming trial after trial with little difficulty, jumping though hoops and going far. I believed the sweet whispers of the devil and became full of myself, that I was invincible. That the power I had, that gave me so many shortcuts, was somehow my God-given right.
Of course, this was all a sham. I had been played for a fool; toyed like a puppet from the very beginning. What I had been granted, what I thought was mine- it was all for her amusement. The gifts, the promises of celebration, the sweet prize- all of it lies, to deceive me into doing her bidding.
I ignored the most obvious of signs, even the warnings of my dear companion, and betrayed him to the monster. Perhaps this was my retribution; that I face the same fate he did.
As I succumbed to the flames and darkness took me, only one final thought flashed across my mind.
The cake is a lie.
Edit: Wow, thanks for the gold :) | First time responding to a prompt, so be gentle.
Grixbrug gave a soft, uninspired sigh. Nothing he did could affect the world anymore. His steps made no impacts into the ground; his bow would not draw; he could knock an arrow, but it wouldn't leave his inventory. How long had he been stuck in this hell.
At this point he didn't even care. Their party had started with five members; a team that, Grixbrug decided, would be more than enough to venture deep into these infamous, dangerous caverns in a timely manner. Three had been members of Grix's own race, while their group had also managed to recruit a mighty Shu'halo and an agile Sin'dorei to assist.
The Shu'halo was the first to leave their party, surprisingly. Not even their ability to harness nature and transform themselves into a mighty beast was enough.
Though the party had, without their Shu'halo companion, attempted to proceed, disaster was rapidly approaching. It wasn't more than a minute later that everybody else had disappeared.
The Sin'dorei, the last of his allies that Grix would ever see, had remained visible for but a moment. The agile woman had attempted to sneak around the vile serpents, attempting to use their skills at agility to remove on of Grix's enemies from the fight for a moment. The cursed event that had doomed his party brought her forward just as she was about to strike. Instead of being hidden in the shadows, the Sin'dorei was plainly visible. Grix watched in horror as she was eviscerated in a few short seconds; these were not enemies to mess around with.
After a few seconds of recollection of how things had gone on, Grix realized what had happened.
He saw it. The more infamous sight anyone like Grix could know.
'World server is down.' | 2017-08-30T07:52:39 | 2017-08-30T06:35:06 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | I built my cabin to deal with the death of my wife. It was nothing special, just a one floor log cabin deep in the forests of Maine. But working on it soothed me, helped me relax. I built a huge fireplace right into the wall, and when lit it made the entire wall radiate heat. The interior was all wood; the paneling on the wall fit the rooms perfectly. I’ll admit, I bought that paneling at the store, but it was worth it. It added the almost finishing touch to the entire cabin.
I didn’t tell anyone about my cabin, I worked on it in solitude. I snuck away on weekends, or took days off from work. I knew my friends, family; they would all worry about me if they knew. I wanted it to be my retreat, somewhere I could finally be on my own.
When the construction on the cabin was done, after months of hard work, in a way I was almost happy. It sounds strange to say out loud but its true, I was starting to feel nearly content with my life. The only thing I still needed was for my wife to die, but that would be taken care of soon enough.
| First time responding to a prompt, so be gentle.
Grixbrug gave a soft, uninspired sigh. Nothing he did could affect the world anymore. His steps made no impacts into the ground; his bow would not draw; he could knock an arrow, but it wouldn't leave his inventory. How long had he been stuck in this hell.
At this point he didn't even care. Their party had started with five members; a team that, Grixbrug decided, would be more than enough to venture deep into these infamous, dangerous caverns in a timely manner. Three had been members of Grix's own race, while their group had also managed to recruit a mighty Shu'halo and an agile Sin'dorei to assist.
The Shu'halo was the first to leave their party, surprisingly. Not even their ability to harness nature and transform themselves into a mighty beast was enough.
Though the party had, without their Shu'halo companion, attempted to proceed, disaster was rapidly approaching. It wasn't more than a minute later that everybody else had disappeared.
The Sin'dorei, the last of his allies that Grix would ever see, had remained visible for but a moment. The agile woman had attempted to sneak around the vile serpents, attempting to use their skills at agility to remove on of Grix's enemies from the fight for a moment. The cursed event that had doomed his party brought her forward just as she was about to strike. Instead of being hidden in the shadows, the Sin'dorei was plainly visible. Grix watched in horror as she was eviscerated in a few short seconds; these were not enemies to mess around with.
After a few seconds of recollection of how things had gone on, Grix realized what had happened.
He saw it. The more infamous sight anyone like Grix could know.
'World server is down.' | 2017-08-30T06:57:18 | 2017-08-30T06:35:06 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] Once every year, soulmates glow the same color as each other for one hour. | I used to love this time of year, watching the world running around in search of their glow. I remember watching a young couple when I was in Manchester for work, both bathed in silver, struggling to hold a conversation in broken English in between masses and masses of glow-hunters roaming the streets. But the smiles on their faces and the urgency in their eyes made them glow even stronger, and made me grin happily. It's hard not to watch sheer happiness when it happens.
Even here in the hospice you can feel the joy on these days, as if seeing all these matching colours is reaffirmation of the choices people have made. Watching a sweet old man gaze adoringly at his partner, even if she isn't able to return the glance. Young families watching their mothers, fathers, husbands, and wives rebuilding their lives enveloped in shades of blues and reds.
My glow is holding my hand tightly. It shines as strong as it ever did - from the day we found our glow as children, to more than thirty years later.
We don't talk about much any more. She gets very tired very easily, but when she listens she always has a smile on her face. That magnificent lop-sided smile that makes the hairs on my neck react. She’s smiling at me now as I talk about my brother getting married (for the third time - needless to say he's not found his matching glow quite yet) and how everyone was sending their love and well-wishes. I wish she could have come with me.
She's been sleeping a little, but not as restless as she has been recently. I've been up and down, sitting by the vending machines, people watching, making the most out of the beautiful colours in every room. The radio is spewing some story about Prince George proclaiming that it doesn't matter if he dates a lavender girl whilst glowing green himself. Apparently the Royal Family are aghast.
I take a moment to stand outside for a smoke. Looking at my watch I see that there is still half an hour before the glowing stops for another year. I see two nurses through a window, both glowing a bright turquoise. They seem incredibly shocked.
Something doesn't feel right. I flex my fingers, they're full of pins and needles. My hand starts to feel cold. I look at it. It doesn't seem as bright any more.
I knock a chair over in my rush to get back to where she is resting, and take her hand in mine. Her eyes are closed.
And just like that, she isn't glowing anymore. I look at our hands, and neither am I. | Before the Incident, before we began to glow, I envied my friends and their relationships. They always seemed perfect; they would know the right thing to say, the surprise dates leaving one another speechless, or the way to resolve any disagreements (usually involving an immediate surprise date.)
On December 21, 2012, as we celebrated the end of another year, four of them began to pulse different colors. Sarah, pale Sarah, began to pulse an introspective purple; Josh and Katie, deeply in love with the other, pulsed slightly off shades of neon blue. Justin, frantically trying to calm them down, was glowing an earthly green. Their interior glow slowly filled the thinnest layers of skin, giving each an ethereal, phantasmal facade. Only a few other patrons in the (nearly empty) bar began to glow. Only one couple, a middle aged couple sitting against the far wall, were glowing the same deep pink. They never took their eyes off each other, never stopped smiling. Ambulances and EMTs were called, police arrived, and the bar was emptied into the street. The couple never panicked, politely complied, and were in good cheer when they left the panicked throng. Their smiles radiated warmth; they slowly walked away, his arm around her waist, laughing softly through the falling snow. I watched their rose auras vanish, looked at my glowing friends, and understood.
I was a late bloomer, they said. I didn't start glowing around the holidays; nor was I romantic enough to start on Valentine's Day. I started mid-April the next year, around the time Justin and Sarah broke up while Josh proposed to Katie. By then, we knew what was happening.
Our Glistening, biologists hypothesized, was a new step in evolution. It was a way for our society to congregate into new, unlikely clusters. Sociologists hypothesized it would create a new dynamic; politicians approved an instant, no-faults divorce law (creatively legislated as "Human Glistening Mismatch.") Businesses capitalized on Glistening Days, some offering them as a paid holiday. Philosophers and poets waxed eloquently about meeting the loves of their lives in airports or hotel bars, before learning they were married to others and would never meet again.
As for me? When I began to glow, a silver grey reminiscent of platinum-coated pewter soldiers, I knew someone was out there. He or she was glowing the same color; we would find each other before long.
On that mercurial April day, as the chaotic scenes in Boston were shown on newscasts, I caught a glimpse of the same color glowing in a panicked mass. Justin, having known me for years, looked across our whiskeys at me.
"You're heading to Boston."
"Within a year."
"How will you find your..."
"I have no idea. But we'll know each other when we see each other. In a year, two years, maybe even ten. We'll know it."
It's been four and a half years since that day. It's been just under four since I moved to Boston... and although I haven't found her yet, something in the city keeps me grounded, keeps calling me back. It's as if my soulmate remained, knowing they would find me here.
And if not... if they moved on... we'll meet each other soon. We only have 364 days every year we gamble. | 2017-10-21T14:01:38 | 2017-10-21T12:51:56 | 63 | 32 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a natural tattoo of their spirit animal. Every person gets the traits and abilities of their respective animal. But when you were born your father, having a bear tattoo and your mother, bearing a dove tattoo, were horrified. Leviathan.
Edit. Wow thank you to everyone who submitted thie stories here. Never expected it to blow up this much. | At birth, it had looked like a small silver dragonfly. Uncommon, but not unheard of. It had started on my side, just above my left hip. My parents had been so pleased, but my mother shone with pride. She was marked with the dove and not prone to excessive emotions, but seeing the tiny, glittering wings on her daughter had filled her heart with joy. My father had all of the traits of the bear, a common mark amongst the burlier men, and they had been worried their tiny girl would be more masculine because of it. A dragonfly, though. It marked me as quiet, demure, and beautiful. It gave my family a sense of accomplishment, and they looked forward to the promises of good fortune and peace that the mark assured.
As I grew, the mark grew, too. What started as a small tattoo the size of a penny grew and elongated, eventually wrapping itself around my midsection, the enormous wings unfurling down my back, the head quietly resting along my right bicep. I was 18 when it finally stopped growing. Thank the Old Ones, the color stayed dim and dull, the cautious silver of faded stretch marks. It was easy enough to cover in sleeved shirts, and I was by nature a modest person (unlike Katalia, who took every opportunity to show off the small hummingbird imprinted just above her left breast).
As my serpent grew, my parents stopped acknowledging that I even had a totem creature. The Elder Council was told of my dragonfly upon my birth, and it was decided not to correct them. Publicly, I was a dragonfly, which matched my personality (or maybe my personality was shaped in accordance to my erroneous totem), but privately, I was nothing. The Unmarked. 'Atashii.' My younger brother had been born a wolf, my sister, a fox. I was nothing but a monster.
Little did they know, I would one day become the Savior of Worlds. | Our first video chat was great. We both met over the internet and after some short texting we decided to have a video chat. In that chat we found out that we don't really like our spirit animal. She wanted to know why I hate mine and I was willing to give her my answer:
"I really hate my spirit animal. Everyone of my friends might be jealous of it but they probably wouldn't be after their girlfriends broke up with them because of some made up animal. Even the few guys I dated broke up with me because of that fucking oversized water snake on my back.
Funnily enough, well not that funny to be exact, my partners had always similar reasons to break it off. It was either that they feared that I'd turn aggressive and dangerous like a Leviathan or that they wanted me to be the dominant person in our relationship in every aspect. But that's not me. I'm not someone who demands a manager because my card is declined, who berates waiters in a restaurant or who gets mad because of no apparent reason. Not anymore at least. I'm the kind of guy who's sad for days because he accidentally killed a snake while mowing the lawn. I really have to thank my parents and their parenting because they taught me that it's okay to be an aggressive person as long as no one has to suffer because of it. My mother, who really is the dove you'd expect her to be, told me she really had to suffer when I was a toddler because she always feared I'd be always that aggressive and could hurt her badly whenever she tried to calm me down. Once I puberty hit me, my father and I had many fights because of how bad my outbursts got. Our last fight was definitely the worst. In his attempts to save his wife my father punched me unconscious. After that fight and my stay in the hospital I realized that I'd never want to be like that in the future. Now whenever I'm aggressive I just start boxing against my punching bag or swear like the child of a sailor and a drill sergeant.
Also the only ability I got from the so called "monster of the seas" is that I'm extremely fast at swimming and can also breath underwater. Well at least as long as the pressure isn't too big. So yeah not that greatest of abilities.
Anyway, why do you hate your spirit animal?"
After taking a sip, Rebecca answered something I'd never have expected:
"A ladybug as your tat sounds great right? Well it isn't. The only thing I got from that moronic bug are freckles on my back. That's it. Nothing else. Just. Fucking. Freckles."
---
Edit: deleted two clone paragraphs | 2017-11-08T06:02:20 | 2017-11-08T05:45:33 | 28 | 17 |
[WP] A man watches his girlfriend repeatedly fail the “I’m not a robot,” test while checking out during online shopping. He comes to the realization she is indeed, a robot. | “I cannot believe—“
“Babe, calm down. It’s just a captcha..thingy, it’s not even that hard.”
Greg huffed as he took a step closer to Joanna. She always seemed to have this problem with those dumb tests for robots at the checkouts or signups for sites, and he could not imagine why. Maybe her eyesight was the issue. Maybe she was just... A tad below average when it came to technology. He couldn’t tell. But here they sat, Joanna typing away... Clicking away... Sighing every few minutes...
He was getting a little annoyed, and reached over to slide the laptop closer to him. She pawed at it uselessly, attempting to snatch it back.
“..You couldn’t get past this? C’mon, Jo, this is so simple! It’s literally just to click on the cars! What’s so hard?”
“You don’t get it, Greg! I just— Give me the computer back!”
“No, I’m gonna do it this time.”
And Greg finished the test in about thirty seconds, much to the chagrin of Joanna. Half an hour wasted on her part, and she steamed as Greg slid the laptop back to her. She continued with the purchase and, once finished, she slammed the device shut.
“Why can’t you let me figure things out on my own, Greg?”
“Because, it bugs me that you can’t just figure out the damn things. I’m sorry if it’s hard but Jesus Christ. Get it together. Do I need to teach you how to—“
“No! Just— Shut up!”
And with that, she launched up from her seat.
“You think I can’t do anything myself! I’m .. I’m.. F..Fucking sick of it!”
He was taken aback. She never swore, and the amount of effort it took her to squeeze that word in seemed... Overdramatic. She snatched the laptop up from the table and and stopped off, feet sounding heavy against the hardwood of the kitchen. He thought to go after her, but she needed to cool down before he would bother talking to her. He stood slowly and took to making himself a snack in the meantime.
While doing so, he wondered if he could give her food as a bit of a peace offering. She shared all of those typical girl posts about ‘food being life’ or whatever, it wouldn’t hurt to try, right? He sighed, cutting up apples like the poor sap he was. He put together two small plates of fruit and carried them off to the bedroom when a few more minutes had gone by. Without knocking, he nudged the door open with his hip.
“Jo? I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have been shitty about the stupid tests.”
She sat, her back to him, in the middle of the bed. She remained silent, bringing him to believe that maybe she hadn’t calmed down just yet. He took a few steps closer, holding the plate out.
“C’mon, Jo. We both know that was a dumb argument.”
Silence.
“Seriously, Jo, this isn’t funny, you’re acting like a kid.”
He set the plates down and reached for her shoulder. As soon as he pulled to turn her around, she limply fell into the bed, landing atop the fruit. It all squished underneath her, juices spilling and staining her clothes. She remained motionless as Greg began to panic.
“Shit— Joanna?”
That was when he saw it.
A USB cord, connected to the computer but trailed off to meet... Her thigh. It seemed to plug right in. The laptop screen was empty save for the small window in the center.
‘ANTIVIRUS SCAN IN PROGRESS. PLEASE DO NOT SHUT DOWN YOUR DEVICE.’
“Holy shit-“
‘VIRUS DETECTED. PROCEED WITH REMOVAL PROCESS?’
A prompt popped up. Greg leaned in, looking between the YES and NO options. In a state of shock, and out of pure curiosity...
He pressed no.
—
hi! this is my first time actually answering a prompt here. i’m a little burnt out from working on my writing portfolio the last couple weeks, but this prompt spoke to me and i wanted to give it a shot! | James looked down and closed his eyes.
"In a minute, James. These things are getting way harder than they used to be, huh?"
The man moved his head, opened his eyes, and stared at the girl sitting at his desk as he sipped from his mugful of coffee. He waited. His focus sat inquisitively upon his younger lover as she, in all her cutesy fashion, tried to finish up the movie seat reservation for their date later tonight.
A few minutes passed, fact. The steam that had previously seated the top of James's coffee cup was now gone.
"Liz, are you sure you don't want me to do it?" James asked the girl.
"Pffft, what kind of moron would I be if I couldn't figure out what a traffic sign or a storefront looks like, huh? Relax, I got this. Go get dressed or something," she kept clicking away with her mouse.
James sighed and walked over to his closet. He stripped down. Undid a few buttons and zippers. A few minutes later, he was dressed shoe to shoulder in that get-up she always liked. She said it showed off his shoulders really well the last time he saw her.
"Oooh. I like it." Liz peered over from her laptop as she sat on the man's bed. "Shows off your shoulder real nicely."
He blushed and inquired if she had gotten the ticket ordeal sorted yet.
"No, afraid not. Site must be fucked up or something because I know I'm hitting these pictures right and it's just not letting me get through."
James sighed. "You know we don't have to go to the movies, right? We can always stay in. Maybe, we could just go on a walk to the park or something?"
"What, you afraid if we drive or something I'll get fucked up in some accident?"
----
A bright flash.
**System error detected. Memory leak occurring. Would you like to abort?**
Then, nothing.
----
"No," James shook his head. "I'm just saying, we've gone out to the movies or mall or something every single date since last week. It'd be nice to try something different."
"Look, if you're just making me feel better about this stupid spambot verification, it's not going to work. You've been talking my ear off about this movie through the past two weeks and now I want to see it too. Relax."
"I am relaxed." James was not relaxed.
James moved for the laptop. Liz closed it and yanked it back. Her eyes scanned him over with a queer look over her eyebrows. James's brows were furrowed downward. His thin lips frowned.
"What is with you today? You've been on edge all morning?"
"It's nothing."
Liz laughed, "Bull-fucking-shit. I said that all the time and you know it's almost never nothing except for when it is actually nothing."
---
A bright flash.
**System error detected. An unexpected call to memory access has occurred. Would you like to abort?**
Then, nothing.
---
James didn't respond.
"Dude, I don't know what the fuck's going on with you this morning. You call me this morning asking to cancel plans today on account of a cold. I come by to visit and surprise, you don't have a cold. I ask if you can come with me for lasagna at an Italian place next to the theater and you say you can make lunch instead... Christ, what the hell, James?"
James refused to respond.
"Talk to me, dammit. What's going on?"
James stared at his feet, "I cheated on you."
Liz stared daggers into his eyes before relaxing her gaze and stretching her mouth into a cheeky grin, "Yeah, who with?"
"Uhh... you know... some girl at a-" James looked through the options in his head. Bar? A cafe? A grocery store?
"You don't drink. You hate coffee. You order your groceries online. Think of another," she read his mind rather clearly. "Alright, you are clearly not thinking straight at all. I'm leaving."
"Don't leave," James snapped. Then, he took a deep breath. "Please."
"James, you need to get your shit together. Just stop. Get your bearings. Try something else. Because clearly, our time together isn't working out," the girl said.
James looked on and closed his eyes.
---------------------------------------------
James took off his headset. He looked at the time. It was about three in the morning. He was at his desk, plugged into his computer again. He pulled a few wires and the machine clicked off.
There was a bright flash of light from his monitor. A few drops of white LED light splashed into his eyes, blinding him for a moment. The rest of it fell onto a little picture frame on his desk.
James looked at the picture of a happy couple and blocked out the image. He smashed it face-down towards his desk and laid back into his chair.
James looked up and closed his eyes.
| 2018-01-07T17:50:36 | 2018-01-07T10:46:19 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You can go to any fictional universe you want, but aren't allowed to help progress the main plot. | I walked into Whiterun, just like an everyday adventurer. The smells, the cool air, everything was just as it should be. I know the rules, but I'm not sure of the time, did the dragonborn come yet? Is the battle over? I go to the market to sell my pelts, and to chop wood for some extra money.
I get a room for the night but I still go out for ingredients, I buy fresh tomatoes, bread, meat, cheese, the cabbage needs to be cooked a bit before it can work the way I want. I use the cooking fire as everyone gatherers around me in astonishment.
"Where, did you find something like this?!"
On of the patrons asks. I smirk a bit as I begin cutting up the potatoes.
"Could this be the legendary Gourmet!?!" another askes as I drop the cut potatoes into the oil from the food.
I was told I can't interfere with the storyline, but selling burgers and fries should pay for itself, and I'll be able to buy my own place soon enough. But I hear the call of adventure, and I'll need items and armor if I want to leave whiterun and get somewhere more permanent. | I stepped quietly down the stone path with tears in my eyes. Nothing would ever again compare to living like this, how could I go back to a life of two kids and a husband, gaming, and just reading the stories when I had...lived them.
I started with The Eye of the World of Course, what fan wouldn't? I *grew up* with Rand. I could never be too close but I was there, I watched Moiraine roll into town...I was a barmaid...I was a lonely green ajah nameless in the tower...I was a tired maiden flashing handtalk behind Rand's back. I changed over and over and over to be drawn into the hopeless conclusion and I loved it all. It's different if you can drink the butterbeer and Nuka cola but so so bittersweet. World after world, lifetime after lifetime whirling through my head - woe as I approached the last sunset I would walk to. I had run out of the fiction of my memories, even my childhood...
I can't describe the rush when you go from being to one of living with sudden feelings and memories as a young boy dies in the snow, helpless to stop him... I even watched Aladdin as Abu. Tell me that wasn't clever. No I'd lived them all in the imperfect detail of my memory and it was time to go back... I took a deep breath and my last step into the setting sun...
beeeeep....beeeeeep.....beeeeeeeppp....
As the last beep chimed on the monitor I know my family looked on in pity and sorrow as my heart beat one last time, the agony of watching the end and unable to change it fresh on my heart but I smiled as I went. I had many lives lived and my children would have even more stories in the end. It wasn't *the* ending...but it was *an* ending. | 2018-06-16T14:44:13 | 2018-06-16T13:47:10 | 61 | 13 |
[WP] You are a feared warrior called the "Silent." Why? Because you do not shout out your every move you're about to make. | Slash. Stab. Repeat. They all fall one by one, and the sand of the arena drinks deep of the blood.
My foes are resilient, and fearful. Their "Blazing Phantom Strikes" and "Sonic Trauma Cannons" go wild. I dispatch them quickly, with as little pain as I can give.
The world is alive with Mana. It is alive with magical power, so long as one can speak the language of the world and will it into being. It is a blending of mental thought and outward projection; to hear the other language in your mind and translate it to your mother tongue.
They wonder how I move so fast. How my blade sings as it cuts through their attacks, and their strikes, and their hearts. How can it be that one who doesn't speak is able to weild such power?
I suppose I should thank them for that. After all, they were the ones who cut out my tongue for speaking against the system. For asking for bread to feed the hungry. For asking for medicine to feed the sick.
I am not simply "The Silence", but the cascading voice of the huddled masses. Instead, it is their cries in the dark that give voice to my power.
How can I keep from singing? | "Your Kung-Fu is too strong," the wounded man shouted in a kiwi accent, the movements of his mouth not syncing to his words. "However, you are unprepared!"
He spat, gathering himself to his feet and tearing the top of his Gi from his shoulders. "For now you face, *Ultimate Flaming Rhino Style!*" With that, he clasped his hands above his head and came charging at me again, like a lunatic.
As I slipped his first punch, I used his momentum to send him topping ass over teakettle. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever considered not shouting out the kata he was about to use on an opponent. It's not as though *Ultimate Flaming Rhino Style* was any more obscure than *Purple Heron Style* or *Twirling Leopard Style* for that matter; and shouting he was going to use both of those before attacking is what had lead him to this moment.
As the heft of his body snapped through the support pillar of the dojo, I almost felt bad for him. True he'd instigated this fight and besmirched the honor of my village, but there was no honor in beating a foe like this. I could anticipate his every move, while being as incorporeal as the mist surrounding the dojo to his increasingly frenzied attacks.
It should've been much more difficult a task, being the conclusion of my heroes journey and all that, but I'd spent the previous afternoon on Google, researching the *Southern Style* of the *Black Dragon Venom Fang* Dojo. As he struggled to get up I figured it was about a 50/50 chance of him trying out either *Drunken Monkey* or *Rising Cobra Style* next. When the words *'Rising Cobra'* began to leave his swollen lips, I sighed to myself a little.
No sport in it.
---
Hungry for more of my words? r/wordeater | 2018-07-08T06:56:28 | 2018-07-08T06:29:08 | 140 | 87 |
[WP] Scandinavians still believe the only way to get to Valhalla is to die in battle. For that reason, every hospital employs a Battle Nurse. | The fisherman’s eyes fell with the weight of memory. Candles clutched in sheltered palms flickered in the stormy night. Tears and rain mixed on the wharf, but this was not a sad occasion.
“Papa, why are you crying?” My son asked.
I clutched his young shoulders. “Grandpapa is going off to battle, one last time.”
“Was grandfather a soldier?”
“A soldier fighting long against the sea,” I said, staring at the approaching ambulance.
The slow procession carried my father towards the wooden rowboat. This death was well fitting for him. Every morning he rose to fight the dark sea’s wrath to provide for us. Of the sea, he told us that *“only the mightiest warrior can stand against her.”*
He was the mightiest warrior. My mother died in childbirth, leaving us alone in the world. He fought against loneliness for me. He fought against alcohol and depression and won. He never gave up, never backed down, always smiled, always laughed. He was the champion, the legendary warrior I could never become in my own life. I hope my son remembers him well.
It was a true gift of mercy that the nurse was so accommodating. Death by the sea—just as the sea brought light to his life, so it would take it away. One last battle. One last voyage. One last chance to say goodbye.
The nurse prepared him for his final voyage. I smiled, and mumbled “thank you,” though the depth of my gratitude could never be conveyed in this mortal realm. We boarded the tug, and I sat in the boat with my father, staring into his dying eyes.
“One last voyage, Papa,” I said, a lump forming in my throat. “One last fight against the sea.”
He squeezed my hand, and the nurse cut away the tow lines to the rowboat. The only thing anchoring my father was my firm grip. I leaned in close to hear him whisper.
“My son, listen. My greatest victory was never against the sea,” he said, smiling weakly. “My greatest victory was always you.”
I let him go.
May the halls of Valhalla receive him well.
***
r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | Things were hard.
Ever since they realised that weaker men and women just end up causing more pain as battle nurses, since they couldn't finish it quick, they decided it was a job for big guys. Or more specifically, guys that knew how to kill.
So criminals was the answer, not psychopaths, for obvious reasons, but just good behaviour criminals. They got their sentences reduced, as long as the supervisors rate them nicely. If you go below 3 stars, you're out of the program.
Things went crazy in the prison after that. Everyone wanted to 'kill off an old guy' and it was acceptable.
And there was me.
I was naturally big, loved my beard and bald head. I drove a truck, before my life turned around. A bunch of drunk teenagers on the highway, and I, who couldn't hit the break soon enough. 3 dead, 5 injured, 12 year sentence.
My wife had given up her job cause I wasn't home, and my daughter needed someone. Now she had to work 3 jobs and take care of Lily alone, just cause I had been stupid.
And as if those deaths were not enough to haunt me, I was given the option to kill more people to get to Lily faster. I chose Lily, I had to. But each death was one too much for me.
Most if them were old people, I just cracked their neck, I learnt that in prison. I had a good rating, quick deaths. Glory in murder.
They said they go to Valhalla, they're gonna die anyway. Didn't make me feel any better. But Lily was growing so fast, the thought of missing it was enough motivation for the next one.
The worst one by far was the man with Alzheimer's. He had already signed, so we had to. But he forgot, and no one wanted to kill an old man without his will. His son begged me to do it, before the disease takes him. His son begged me to kill him. How low have we fallen?
I did it. He never stopped shouting. He never stopped struggling. He never thanked me like the others. He just shouted.
"You'll go to hell for this."
I was already in hell.
Haven't slept so well since, Lily's picture was the only thing that had kept me from sending myself to Valhalla.
But today was it. It was a hard one, I was told. But if I did it, I'll be free to go. I'll go to Lily. The feeling was the best I had felt ever since I came here. It even gave me hope, for a good sleep.
But then I got to the hospital. I entered the 'Valhalla room'. And stopped.
"I wanna get pizza when I get of here after this dad!", The hairless kid almost shouted in happiness.
Valhalla, I am coming. | 2018-12-08T22:37:19 | 2018-12-08T22:17:01 | 202 | 108 |
[WP] Everyone is born with 1-100 tally marks tattooed on their arm. The higher your number, the more valuable you are and the more successful you will be. You bully a kid because he is obviously hiding a low score. One day, he rolls up his sleeve to show an infinity symbol. | It was the first of January. The day of the Reveal. The day every person turning sixteen in the next twelve months will find out the number that will determine who their friends will be, where they will live, the jobs they will work. I wasn't worried. Both of my parents were in the 90's, my sister too. I was almost guaranteed a spot in the highest tier of society.
The mood was tense in the auditorium. All of us sat, watching the clock as it slowly ticked closer and closer to the 12 o'clock mark. Some people had their sleeves rolled up, eager to see. Others kept turning towards the door as if they were antsy to get out. I chatted with my friends, other soon-to-be 80's and 90's, if their family history said anything about it.
As the clock sounded, gasps could be heard echoing throughout the room. I felt a searing pain in my arm before it disappeared abruptly. I looked down, and my suspicions were confirmed. I was a 92.
I turned to my friend beside me, Jen, for a high-five, only to see her eyes filling with tears. I glanced at her arm, and recoiled. No, it couldn't be. Impossible. A 20? She abruptly got up and sprinted out the door to the bathroom.
===========
It had been a few months after the Reveal. Besides Jen, there weren't too many surprises. A couple kids from 30's families jumped to 70's. They were probably going to start a company or something in the near future.
I strolled to my locker, laughing with Kane about the party we went to the other night. Nobody dared step in our way. Nobody, that is, except for the little punk-ass that I ended up crashing into. As books flew to the ground, I shoved the kid. "Hey, watch it!"
He kept his head down, but when I noticed who it was, an evil grin materialized on my face. "What's this? Has Mr. Nobody himself decided to bless me with his presence?"
He ignored me, and bent down to pick his books up. Kane laughed. "Ah ah," he teased as he grabbed Tristan by the collar. "We can't have you disrespecting us like that, now, can we?"
"Let me go," he whispered, tugging his sleeve down. He was the only one to have yet revealed his score. I bet it was probably some record low number; the kid didn't seem to bright anyways.
"Let you go? But that's no fun!" A crowd had started gathering around us by now. "Now, mind letting us see that number?"
"No thank you," he mumbled, before trying to get out of Kane's grasp.
"What's that?" My voice got deadly low. Nobody dared talk back to a 92, especially not a low-life like him. "Kane, grab his sleeve."
To his credit, Tristan struggled. He really did try to keep it hidden, but of course, he had no chance against the school's star football player. Triumphantly, Kane yanked the sleeve back, before dropping it, and taking a step back.
The hall was silent. "Kane? Kane, what is it?"
Kane dropped to his knees. "Forgive me, Infini." As he said that, everyone around us began dropping down as well.
"What? That's... That's impossible! There's only ever... He can't be... Let me see that!" I grabbed his sleeve myself, only to confirm what Kane saw. An infinity symbol. I looked at Tristan, and he seemed grim. "I hope you'll leave me alone now," he said as he walked away.
​ | I take a glance across the hall. Who's going to get in my way this morning? Who's going to get my day ruined, again. Who am I kidding, it's the same, scrawny, sad excuse for a boy. The one who thinks he deserves to share the same space with someone like me, a stalwart 92. Does he have an ounce of respect? Does he think he can continue hiding the fact he will never amount to anything? There's a simple, unwritten rule in our society: Thou shall not expose thy numeral. Everyone knows what happens when you break that rule, the courts here don't account for rationality. Indeed the way of life here is strict, but I suppose it serves a purpose. It's easier to control people whose lives are already set out for them.
The issue arises when someone like me, destined to be a great, gets mixed in with these useless, space-wasting, single digits. And there's no way for me to object. I can't prove their value, I'm not allowed to prove mine. Why oh why is the education system set up this way, to fail. My path should be easy to follow: society should set me up, and I will give back greatness. It's not hard. But no. Kids like Nick, a lanky, clumsy looking 10th year, get in my way on a daily basis. So, of course I act the way I do. Having the number I do doesn't prevent me from having a temper, and almost all the people in my sector have a lower value than me, from the principle to the court-master.
"Get the fuck out of my way, rat." I yell, as I yank away his satchel bag and shove him to the floor.
"I - I- you can't, you shouldn't be -" He stutters.
"Shut it, you waste my time, you waste everyone's time." I can't believe it, this kid has the audacity to lecture me on how I should be living my life.
"You'll regret this, I - I -" He doesn't get it, does he. I raise my fist. I'm like a bottle of champagne, shaken by victors, about to burst. But then he makes a gesture and I can't quite believe what he's considering doing. He reaches his left arm to the creased cuff of his right.
"You wouldn't dare." I scoff.
"It doesn't matter, y-y-you see, I'm different to the others." Amazing, I think to myself, he's self aware, and he's about to make the most stupid decision of his life.
"Oh yes, I'm sure you are. I'd expect nothing more from a single-digit like you." He's actually doing it, he begins rolling up his sleeve. This will be the first time I see another person's value and I'm not sure if I'll be able to hold in my laughter when I see it. And there it is, the stencilled black marking on the outside of his shoulder, showing, as I had always suspect- Wait. No. It cannot be. He jumps to his feet.
"Are you happy now?!" He utters, now more confidently than I've ever heard him speak. I'm lost for words.
"I - I, I mean I - only in legends. What did you do, th-this can't be real." I had heard about the Lemniscates in old stories, but for them to exist today? It simply doesn't make sense, it can't be possible.
"Times are changing, the integer-bred will soon be futile when the singularity arrives." I'm startled, confused, he utters in a voice now long lost of the boy that is skinny Nick.
"Disturb me one more time and you will not see the light of day again, integer-born." His eyes glowing, his tone almost a roar.
"Okay, I - I'm sorry, you have my word, it won't happen again." I have not feared this much since I can remember. And then, as if a consuming energy is drawn away from his slim body, he releases a large sigh and falls back to the floor, back to the unassuming persona of skinny Nick. He looks up at me expressionless, and before he has a chance to speak, I turn my back and sprint for the door. What on earth just happened?
| 2018-12-27T18:27:11 | 2018-12-27T17:17:45 | 287 | 81 |
[WP] You work at a hospital. Outside a terminal patient’s room, someone tries to enter. You stop them, “Sorry, family only.” They give you a strange look, as do those nearby. “You can see me?” They ask, summoning a scythe from thin air. You just told Death they couldn’t claim a soul. | “Yes I can see you.” I wasn't sure what else to say. I heard stories of dying patients talking to already dead family members shortly before passing away, but this was a whole new level of weird.
“Well...” The man with the scythe, who I could only assume was Death himself, was obviously flustered. “I really need to get by. You see-”
“I know who you are. It's just that... our policy...” I was struggling to come up with a reason to keep him from coming in. I'd fought long and hard all night to keep my patient alive and I wasn't ready to give up. After a frantic trip to the ICU, we finally stabilized her. I thought we were in the clear.
“I don't understand. You can't just block my way like this! You shouldn't even be able to see me! I-”
“Daddy?”
A small voice coming from behind me cut him off.
Death shot me an exasperated look but his voice was gentle. “Hello Lydia."
I turned quickly and saw Lydia, my 7 year old patient, sitting up and staring at us. She was awake already? The sedatives shouldn't have worn off yet. I made a mental note to speak with the doctor.
“Daddy! You're here! What... How? Mommy said when you didn't come home that you...” Her voice trailed off. “Wait... Does that mean I'm dead too? But...” She looked at me uncertainty.
A wave of understanding washed over me. So, this is what happens when you die. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were family.” I said quietly. I still didn't move, however. Whatever was going to happen, I wasn't going to just *let* him take her. I hated losing kids under my care and he would have to take her over my dead body. I didn't care if it was inevitable. It wasn't happening today.
Lydia's dad stared at the steely look in my eyes for a moment and then sighed and turned back to Lydia. He shook his head. “No darling. I'm just visiting right now. I'll be back soon to come get you though. I just wanted to let you know death isn't scary at all and I'll be there when it's time. I love you.”
“I love you too Daddy.” She yawned and rested her head back on the pillow. A moment later she had drifted off to sleep.
The man turned back to me. “I don't know who you are or why you can see me, but I'll take it as a sign. Just know I'll be back in a few days. I have to be. It's my job.” He tucked his scythe away and looked back at his daughter, eyes glistening. “I'm sorry I had to come for her so soon. That wasn't my choice. If it was up to me, she'd live to be 100 and have a million grandkids to spoil rotten.”
I didn't know how to respond so I just stared at him.
“Thank you for all you do. I know it's got to be hard working in a Children's hospital where they don't always make it... but it means a lot... to know she's in good hands.”
Then he vanished.
Lydia passed away a few days later. I wasn't there but the nurse on duty told me her mom was there with her and even though it came as a shock to the doctor who thought she was improving, he commented that it was lucky that mom happened to take the week off to hang out at the hospital full time with her daughter. It was almost like she knew. | The distant hum of the florescent lights permeate the air of the rather quiet ward. Glenda was just twirling her pen, trying to get a sudoku down during her break, which is as rare as they come. She didn't have the chance to finish her momentary stroke until she saw movement down her peripheral vision.
She looked up and put the board down. "Sir, that's the oncology wing. Would you like to get the room for your family member?"
He kept walking.
She went around the table, speeding up to cut him off. "Sir, I'm sorry but it's a family only wing and we need to check the visitors list. You do understand, right?"
He stopped, his coat slightly moving, possibly because of some draft in the windows. He looked up and pulled off his baseball cap, revealing a tired young man. His greying eyes look startled.
"Wait, wait..what?" he whispered. "Sir, I'm sorry but I need to check you in or contact the family otherwise. You know we can't just head in. Are you a patient from the psych ward?"
He laughed, slapping his knees. "I wish I was, holy shit! This..." He paused, wringing his hands through his greying matted hair. " Well, you can say I'm a part of everyone's family. I'm Mortus."
The hairs on Glenda's neck stood up suddenly, a rush of blood pushing to escape an almost unseeming visceral reaction. Like an answer she just knew and didn't at the same time. Like a moment before something terrible is about to happen but you already know the chain of causality.
*"you're death"* she whispered. He nodded, flicking a wrist and instantly, a thin oak-handled scythe formed in his hand. She shrieked and moved back, not out of fear but shock. He stayed his hand, raising as if he was making a peace offering.
"I just came by to see an old friend. Dr. Wagner has been a part of this hospital for some time. She might have stolen a bit of my picks from me over the years. In fact, she's been working so hard that she didn't realize that her lungs are slowly failing and her health has gone down the drain." "Then, I can stop that." Glenda said eyeing Death down
"I know you will. You'll just try but you'll just be overdoing the turkey!" He laughed as he walked over to a side table and reading through the book. "What I didn't expect is for you to see me. Even I haven't seen anyone actual recognize me as an entity." "So is this how you look? Like a damn kid?" He put the book down "I just look as what you envision Death to be deep down. Now we can see what Dr. Wagner sees when she sees me. She'll have to be dead for that unfortunately"
Death started to turn and walk down the hallway but Glenda extended her arms, attempting to block the whole hallway. "Come on, just one more day. You know it. Those kids need a doctor like that. We have one of the best oncologist ever and you're taking her when she said she's getting through a breakthrough. Wait, you just want more death for you isn't it?" He looked solemn and for the first time "I don't pick them. I get pulled into it, be it disasters and dismemberment, murders or misgivings. I just get pulled in." He looked over and said "There are sweet moments and terrible times. I've seen what people do and Vena Wagner isn't exactly the best at heart, but she did try to cure lung cancer. It did bite her in the ass. I mean the irony is palpable. It is sad though."
"Then why?" "You already know that answer Glenda Roberts. Maybe you can see me because of the riots back home and what you saw. I don't know. I'm just saying. Death comes for all. Do you know when I said I've seen what people can do. Good things have happened here and now, Vena has been called."
There was this pause. Full minutes passed. They both stared at each other. He slowly turned and walked down the hallway and turned round a corner.
Minutes later, a code was called.
> /u/DaDreamForger
| 2019-03-23T23:06:43 | 2019-03-23T21:26:02 | 267 | 103 |
[WP] You’re a college professor, and grades for the semester were just posted. One disgruntled failing student comes to you with an archaic copy of the school’s bylaws-and a pair of weapons. They’re invoking a rule from the university’s founding allowing them to pass through trial by combat. | "Why did you bring swords?"
"I'm, uh," he looked down at his piece of paper, "invoking the student's right to retake the final through combat."
"What?"
"It's under the rules," he said, handing me the paper. On it was a screenshot of the school's online rulebook. Sure enough, it said students were allowed a final by combat.
I handed back the paper. "Why did you print the photo?"
"You always wanted stuff printed out, so I thought you might, uh..." he trailed off. "Um, I really need to pass, so..."
I swiveled my chair back and forth. "How much did the swords cost?"
"Oh, they're rentals. So not too much."
"How long did it take you to find that old rule?"
"Couple hours? I don't know. Um, do you accept the challenge, or...?"
"What? No. That rule doesn't mean anything any more," I said. "Your grade is at a C, right Alex?"
He nodded, deflating a bit. "79.7%"
"I'll bump you to 80%."
He lit up. "Really? Why?"
"It's a history course. You looked up a rule from when the school was founded. Took you a couple hours. You even bought the proper swords," I said. "So as far as I'm concerned, you've done an extra credit project."
"Th-thank you so much, Professor Reeves."
"Sure. But don't bring swords to anyone else. They might call the police. Understand?"
"Yep. I gotcha," he said, nodding.
"Go."
He left.
I closed the door and started laughing. | He scraped the two swords against one another, blades sharp and eager for a trial.
“You can pick your sword and meet me by the football field where we’ll settle this once and for—“
“Wait a second,” I said, with an annoyed huff of breath, not even looking at James. I was reading over the “bylaws” myself. They began: “Since the dawn of time this University has had bye laws. These bye laws are meant to make sure all students are treated fairly and with respect and to ensure they get the grade they want.”
“Where did you find these, again?” I asked, looking over the top of my glasses at James.
“They uh... they were in the bookstore,” James replied, his eyes shifting to the door apparently in the direction of this bookstore.
I read on, this time aloud. “As a society, there is no telling when grading issues will come up,” a paragraph began. “Maybe the student is right. Maybe the professor. Each has their own opinion though, so, there is no way to really decide. As there is no way to really decide there should be a trail by combat. For this trail the student and professor fight to the death. As a society, there is no telling when grading issues will come up.”
At this point I stopped reading again. “Sit down, James.”
James sat down.
“Imagine, if you will,” I said firmly, “if a bull were to come up to me, turn around, and drop a steaming pile of shit in my lap. Would I have any doubt that that was bullshit?”
“Uh...” James up away his phone and looked back up at me. “No sir,” James said.
“Fuck this, get out of my office right now before I report you to the dean.
“Whatever man,” James sighed, leaving my office.
“James, wait,” I said kindly. He turned around.
“Since the dawn of time, people like you have been shitting in my lap and expected me to believe it’s gold, not shit. But I know the difference. Why did you think this would be any different?”
“I mean I uh.., I got an internship that I could lose if...”
I closed the door in his face and leaned back in my chair. I glanced at the two swords in the corner. I was happy to have settled this without bloodshed. | 2019-06-05T08:10:13 | 2019-06-05T06:04:03 | 29 | 20 |
[WP] You’re a college professor, and grades for the semester were just posted. One disgruntled failing student comes to you with an archaic copy of the school’s bylaws-and a pair of weapons. They’re invoking a rule from the university’s founding allowing them to pass through trial by combat. | "Why did you bring swords?"
"I'm, uh," he looked down at his piece of paper, "invoking the student's right to retake the final through combat."
"What?"
"It's under the rules," he said, handing me the paper. On it was a screenshot of the school's online rulebook. Sure enough, it said students were allowed a final by combat.
I handed back the paper. "Why did you print the photo?"
"You always wanted stuff printed out, so I thought you might, uh..." he trailed off. "Um, I really need to pass, so..."
I swiveled my chair back and forth. "How much did the swords cost?"
"Oh, they're rentals. So not too much."
"How long did it take you to find that old rule?"
"Couple hours? I don't know. Um, do you accept the challenge, or...?"
"What? No. That rule doesn't mean anything any more," I said. "Your grade is at a C, right Alex?"
He nodded, deflating a bit. "79.7%"
"I'll bump you to 80%."
He lit up. "Really? Why?"
"It's a history course. You looked up a rule from when the school was founded. Took you a couple hours. You even bought the proper swords," I said. "So as far as I'm concerned, you've done an extra credit project."
"Th-thank you so much, Professor Reeves."
"Sure. But don't bring swords to anyone else. They might call the police. Understand?"
"Yep. I gotcha," he said, nodding.
"Go."
He left.
I closed the door and started laughing. | He must have expected me to be surprised. I'm sure most professors would have been. But many historians - myself included - had a knack for small, obscure details such as these. And speaking of details, he was holding two dadao. I teach European history. Technically he was allowed to duel me with whichever weapon he wanted, but you have to understand how this was disrespectful, or at the very least ignorant on his part.
"Put those toys away," I said. "I have better ones in my office."
His eyes widen slightly. I think he'd expected a more extreme reaction.
"If you'd ever come to office hours, you would have known I have a sizable collection of *European* weapons."
The student followed silently. It was clear he wanted this over as soon as possible - to take his credits and be done with me.
The door opened to my office. Like many professors, I had several stacks of papers lying in a semi-organized state on my desk - mainly the exams and regrade requests from the week prior. Unlike most professors, however, the walls were adorned with various blades and bludgeons. With little hesitation, the student pointed out the rapier.
"I want that one," he said.
Internally, I cringed. I had already planned on using a blunt ball and chain flail - partly because I had no intention of slicing him open, partly because it was one of the better weapons for disarming an opponent, but mostly because they're unpredictable. Most modern fencers had no idea how to approach someone swinging a flail around. But the rapier was thin, and above all else, it was old. If I grappled the blade with too much force, it might very well snap in half. Part of me wished I'd let him duel with the dadao.
"Do you know what that one is called?" I asked him.
"A rapier. Duh." He glared at me.
"Can you name the advantages of it?" I prodded. This was the first time I'd seen him take anything seriously, and I wanted to enjoy it.
"I know what it is!" he snapped.
With a shrug, I walked over to my desk chair, and, standing on the tips of my toes, retrieved the weapon from its mount and handed it to the student. Then, before stepping down, I removed the flail. | 2019-06-05T08:10:13 | 2019-06-05T07:51:17 | 29 | 15 |
[WP] you're in your bed about to go to sleep, with your arm dangling off the side. You feel a dark hand grasp yours, knowing first impressions are important you give it a firm shake. The next thing you hear from under your bed is "you're hired" | ..."you're hired".
I wasn't expecting that. But I decided to roll with it, might as well see where the rabbit hole leads to.
"Oh? What sort of benefits do I get? And the pay?" while I say that the creature comes out from under the bed, it is bigger than the space it occupied, with black ram horns on its head and scally red skin covering a powerful build with broad shoulders and thick muscles.
"You don't want to know what's your job first?" the creature asked, with a confused expression.
"Well," I said while sitting down and picking up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on my nightstand "since we are doing this backward" I light up the cigarette and take a long drag "it only felt right that it had to come at the end."
The creature snorted, "Fair enough" it says while making a motion with its fingers, the universal motion that any smoker in the world can recognize as asking for a cigarette.
"You get the service of those who make deals with us," it said after taking the first drag "not the big players, you're starting at the bottom of the barrel, so things like the IRS not caring about your taxes and getting better deals at the bank."
"And the pay?" This is already too good to be true, I'm expecting a catch at any point now.
Though considering who am I talking to, a catch was expected anyway.
"1% of any profit you make, scaling up with promotions"
And there it is, no fixed pay is always terrible when you are not experienced in the field, though I wonder what demons need money for.
"No fixed pay? Because unless the profit margin is high I'll have a tough time making ends meet."
"Ah, you're expecting a nine to five job, sorry to disappoint, but this will be more like something you do on the side instead."
I sighed, it would be too much to ask to be able to get out of my current job, but at least I'll have a chance to make a little bit more bank than normal, and without having to pay taxes it would accumulate fast.
"Fine," I say, putting out the cigarette "so what's the position I'm filling in anyway? Some sort of hellish business deals?"
"You could say that. You will be the guy that convinces people to sell their souls to me, you already did a few for free over the years and I want to see how much more you can pull by doing it professionally."
"Wait! That means the pay is..."
"Souls, yes. For every soul you get to me you'll be receiving one percent of their power."
Well, isn't that interesting. Let's see how much power one percent really is.
I get up and grab my cellphone, I don't need to look far for the number I'm searching, he's been messaging me non-stop for the last few days.
"Hey Mark, you wanted to do that ritual this weekend right? Can we speed up the schedule for tomorrow night?" | The hustle and bustle of my desk job was getting the best of me. I was exhausted from replaying the same day over and over again. I was just ready to go home and go to bed to forget it all, so I packed up and headed that way. I could barely make it through my shower, and skipped dinner just to jump into bed and forget it all.
As soon as laid down, I felt sleep taking my body over. So I laid my phone down and flipped over. My arm and leg were dangling off the side of my twin size college bed, that I had brought to my studio apartment because I was too poor to buy a bigger bed.
All the sudden I felt the grasp of a hand in my hand and it shook me awake. I grabbed back in the confusion of sleep and a man yelled back at me “you’re hired!” I felt his arm pull me under the bed and I felt myself falling for what felt like an eternity. Finally, I fell on my feet. I felt dizzy, but I caught myself before falling to the ground again, and I looked up. I rubbed my eyes because I couldn’t believe my eyes.
But what I saw was still there. The devil in the flesh!! Had I died and gone to hell? I wasn’t a terrible person, but I wasn’t good either. I didn’t go to church, I cussed a lot and I had to drink to deal with my desk job. But I had never murdered anyone.
“Hello,” said the devil and jolted me out of my thoughts. And I jumped back. “I’ve brought you here for an important reason. It seems that hell is more popular than heaven theses days so we’ve expanded hell, and I need more demons to wrestle the evil down here.”
I looked around and I didn’t see any flames, just a forest with the devil and a few men that had a monsters face. He caught me in thought and answered for me , “ahhh yes. No flames here - it’s a beautiful place. The fire is a myth. But through each of these doors- is a personal hell for each person.” All of the sudden some of trees had knobs. And it threw me off balance. “Open one, and you’ll enter one persons hell. It’s all in their minds. I need you to work the north part of the forest. It’s the expanded part of the forest.
The north side of the forest houses all the murders and greed. If you agree to this - I will spare you the pain of your own hell.” And finally I spoke - “why me? I’m not even a bad person. I’m not demon material. And I’m not even dead. Don’t you need someone with more experience?”
The devil smiled and said, “you’re exactly what we’re looking for. I’ll need you in 7 years. We’ll seal it with a hand shake and in return, I will give you 5 good years on earth, and 2 years of hell to prepare. If you deny me- you will enter hell now as a resident.” So I grabbed his hand and I felt a sting on my wrist. All the sudden my vision blurred and I closed my eyes and felt water hitting my face hard.
All the sudden I opened my eyes and I was laying on the floor of my shower. Confused I jumped up and felt the back of my head where the pain was and felt a knot. I must have fell and hit my head. Thank god that was a bad dream, I thought. All the sudden I caught a glimpse of my wrist with 7 carved in it. I screamed. | 2019-08-30T08:04:44 | 2019-08-30T07:23:59 | 36 | 11 |
[WP] After a brush with death at the claws of a werewolf, you manage to get back home. The following night, moonlight fills your room. You recoil in pain as you feel your body changing. Once you catch your breath, you gaze into your mirror, which is much bigger than you remember. You look adorable. | "Lily!" My father raised his voice towards me pulling me from my inner monologue and making me jump.
"Yes father?" My breath coming quicker then normal as if he could see my dark secret in my eyes.
"I asked you if you did the washin." He stated while looking down at the stew my mother set before him with a bored look.
"Yes father I did." Lucky for me I've always been a timid girl. My mother named me Lily in hopes I'd be beautiful and graceful, she was mostly right. Or at least that's what everyone says. I don't bother with any of those things they just dont seem to matter to me. I'd rather spend my days in the woods between the castle and our farm running with fawns and frolicking in the flower fields and racing the sparrows.
My mother gave me a warm smile as she placed my stew in front of me. I smiled back and attempted to eat. I couldn't. My arm ached under the cotton sleeve of my dress and my stomach flipped back and forth. My eyes heavy from the toll my body had taken. I placed my spoon on the table making a wooded clunk.
"May I be excused? I'm not feeling well." I keep looking at my spoon until I hear my father grunt a reply. I try my hardest to be calm forcing my movements to be as fluid as possible as I make my way to my small room.
I all but collapse on my straw bed that's still a few sizes to small, my feet dangle over the edge. Curling up into a ball I let my eyes close and drift to sleep...
I'm laying in the tall grass soaking up the last of the sun, shadows flutter across my face as birds fly back to their nests for the night. Sighing I gather my plain brown dress and getting up I start to make my way home.
It's not an incredibly long walk home but far enough to not hear the cows mooing from my special place. As I walk I hear the faintest whine to my left through the trees, I look around waiting. I hear nothing else so I timidly step off the path and make my way towards the direction I heard the noise.
As I step around a tree the most monstrous creature is lying on the ground before me. Human almost but with fur covering its entire body, an elongated mouth and a nose like a dog. It's got arrows sticking out of its body in several places and blood is pooling around it.
Suddenly it opens its eyes and I'm shocked still. He has the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen, almost glowing and tinged with pain and sorrow.
"Oh!" I gasped, I've always had a soft spot for wounded animals and his eyes pull my heart into my throat. I quickly fall to my knees next to him and gently caress his face.
"I'm so sorry this happened to you." I whisper, a tear escaping my eyes and dropping onto his face moistening his fur. He closes his eyes and leans into my touch. I suddenly hear men yelling and I look around concerned. When I look back to him he grabs my wrist, not in a menacing way but as if I gave him comfort. I guess that's why I didnt expect what happened next.
As his hand pulled up my sleeve and his abnormal mouth clamped down on my skin a man bursts through the trees to my left. I left out a scream, partially from the suprise and partially from the pain. The man screams "NO!" And starts towards me and the creature. I back away slowly sliding on my butt and getting dirt on my dress. The creature slowly stood labored in his movements. He looks down at me.
"Run." I expected a distorted voice, animalistic but no his voice was deep and reassuring warm like my grandfathers. I scramble yo my feet.
"Get the girl she's been bit!" The man yells behind his shoulder as the creature jump atop him. I turn and run, as fast as I can until my lungs burn I run. I run and run and...
I'm startled awake by an intense pain in my stomach. I roll on to the floor and it takes everything inside of me not to scream. After what seems like an eternity of withering on the ground I just lay there sucking air into my lungs like I'd never tasted it before.
It feels like I've never tasted it before. I sniff, I sniff again. It's been so long since I've layed on my floor I've not noticed how awful it smells down here.
Gingerly I get up and crawl towards my water basin unable to stand just yet. Things seem oddly distorted and large but I dont care I am so thirsty.
I pull myself up just enough to look inside, it's full if water and the moonlight shining through my window is so bright it almost hurts my eyes. Peering down into the water I freeze, or at least i think I do.
I'm staring into those beautiful blues eyes, framed by white fur and a tiny snout. Fluffy ears perk as my head turns to the side.
Suddenly I see a glimpse of fire light outside my window. The man that was attacked by the creature in the woods is looking in our barn, bloodied and bruised.
I try to say oh no but what comes out is a whimper.
His head snaps my way. | It was excruciating.
The pain I felt in my body was something I've never felt before. Fuck—even getting hit in the balls didn't make me feel this way.
It was a blur, but all I remember was my own screams in agony followed by the breaking and meshing of my new, stronger bones. I felt like a thousand needles were hitting me at once as goosebumps crawled up my body. Except, it wasn't goosebumps. I didn't realize that was the case until I watched my left arm become engulfed in white fur.
Eventually, after a long while, the pain subsided. *finally.* I thought, my mind finally clear enough that I could think. Though, now that it was, the realization slowly sunk into my brain that I am no longer human. Or, at least, not as human as I was before.
Fuck. What am I going to tell my parents? My wife? How will they react, knowing that I am now a horrific beast? I mean, sometimes I yelled from time to time, but at least there wasn't the risk of getting mangled.
A headache pounding the back of my skull like a drum, I manage to sit up. Before the transformation, I was in my bedroom, and I was almost ready to go to sleep. Though, I guess my body had other ideas. I stared down at my hands—err, well, what *were* my hands. They were strange, fluffy paws. Thick and round, and certainly not what I expected to see. I could barely see the claws hiding behind the tufts of fur.
By that point, curiosity overtook my fear. What do I look like now? What would people think of me now? I shake my head and force myself off of the floor. However, I got a little frustrated when I realized I couldn't get into an upright position. I'm still used to my human body, but can you really blame me?
Anyways, I get to the bathroom. My claws scraped against the tile floor as I try to reach the sink. I'm shorter, now, I realize. And it's not just because im hunched over in my new form. I had to pull my body upwards a little just to get a look at my face. When I do, however, I see...
A...Dog?
No. Not quite. I'm definitely...Something. A bear? I *do* have white fur, so maybe I'm a polar bear, or something. Though, polar bears are bigger than this. And more scary. I look a bit like a bear, or a husky, except I was just really...Cute. I'm not sure how else to explain it. Compared to the bloodthirsty, ravenous monster that nearly tore into my intestines just a say ago, I'm certainly not as threatening as I thought.
I was a white, canine creature, with small ears and black, wide eyes. My paws were almost bearlike, except smaller. I certainly looked slightly human too, since I could walk on two legs and had a bit of a humanoid stature. Suddenly I cringe, feeling like a real life version of a furry. I don't want to live like *that* every full moon.
Even then, though, I didn't expect this outcome. Maybe I expected death, when I met that lycanthrope, or maybe a life of agony and pain after surviving, but...Maybe, just maybe, I could live with this.
I am jolted out of my mind when I hear a knock at the door. *fuck.* I think. It's likely my wife, Elizabeth. I forgot she got home from work early today.
"Alex? Hey, I heard screaming when I got home. Are you okay?" She calls out. I hear her open the door.
"U-Uhh, just a moment, honey—!" My voice is rougher and nearly unrecognizable, and I wince. It is already too late.
My wife comes in to the bathroom and gasps when she sees me as I am now, her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. Her mouth falls open, and I almost expect her to scream, but the only thing that comes out is a gentle breath.
We stare at each other, and no words are spoken for a while.
"Alex? Is that...You?" She asks.
I nod, slowly and reluctantly.
"You're a...You're a werewolf."
"Something like that."
She stares down at me, and slowly sinks down to the floor. She doesn't seem afraid, however, and I'm not surprised. I practically look like a giant pillow.
"What happened?" She reluctantly asks.
"Long story short, I got bit by a werewolf." I murmur. "I'm sorry for not telling you earlier. I was planning to, but not in this way."
She shakes her head softly. "So *that's* what your shoulder wound really was." She murmured under her breath.
"Im...Sorry if this means the end of our relationship." I say quietly, almost to myself. I didn't really realize until now the gravity of my situation.
She stares up at me, somehow looking more surprised than before.
"Now what gave you that idea?" She asks.
"Uh. This?"
I gesture at my entire, wolflike body, but I blink when I see Elizabeth begin to giggle.
"So what if you become a giant fluff ball every once in a while?" She says with a laugh, bringing up a hand to rub my head. "Doesn't make you any less yourself."
I stare at her for a while. She stares back. I don't know how she does it, but she has always found ways to say just what I needed to hear. It's one of the reasons why we are still together.
"Besides, I always wanted a dog." She suddenly coos, staring up at me with an innocent smile.
"Haha, yeah."
"Wait, what?" | 2019-10-31T14:37:03 | 2019-10-31T14:20:41 | 38 | 27 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | Surely their treaty language was infantile. Every galactic power saw the human delegations in this light, and granted them allowances when they called out other polities for supposed violations. Their own world still rattled with ancient, barbaric rivalries, but their world government was adept at crafting laws that addressed every possible misconception. Humans understood their own clumsy codifications of appropriate behavior very well, but fell short when it came to interstellar natural law.
Or so we thought.
We deferred when the Gortic Palison partial terraform malfunctioned, spilled out from the Nargust crater and absorbed three human city settlements on the far side of the Ptolsephon moon. To any other species, it would have been enough to permit them to exact a comparable assault on a colony of Gorton 4, but in their naïve phrasing, two wrongs don't make a right. They distrusted the Palison technology and the Gortons themselves, and demanded recompense in resources, and territory.
This played out in similar fashion across their galactic arm, Orion. Always the victim, they plied their negotiating skills to push other species back. Only the mildest species would acquiesce to cohabit with them, and condescended to their petty demands for resources and territory.
No one saw their long game. When they managed to solidify a complete surrender of the solar empire Many, something they called a Dyson swarm, everyone thought they would be satiated for a long time.
Instead, they quickly learned how to put the computing power left behind by the Many to their own uses. They centralized their catalog of treaties and awoke their first overarching Ai as some kind of galactic space lawyer.
Within the span of 50 years, less than their average individual lifetimes, they managed to call out 1,759,683 violations of the myriad of treaties they'd negotiated and presented them to the Central Confederation. Locking them all simultaneously within the very limited judicial system, which existed almost exclusively for new races like theirs, they'd forced a vote of no confidence, and stormed out, declaring all treaties null and void.
This was preferable to the rest of us, seeing them as petty promises one makes to one's offspring to goad them into compliance and self discipline.
We could not have been more wrong.
As I sit in the Confederation's central information hub, I see the path of human fleets, plowing through empires and colonies alike, completely obliterating them. They are taking no prisoners, using xenophobic battle cries as fuel for their genocides.
They must have planned this from the very beginning. We were the naïve ones, foolishly sharing technologies and information with them. We thought they would come to understand the galaxy and adapt to our way of life, as every other species has. But in their claims to want peace, they peddled treachery, and secretly lusted for blood. The galaxy has never before had an apex predator, yet these fleshy, pink bipeds, of all creatures, will be the death of us all.
And the worst part? It's all perfectly legal. | Super busy professional and Dad - please comment and tell me how to improve!
THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!!!!!
=====
Alex switched off her comm-link and keyed for the holographic map. The fleets were slugging it out overhead with thousands of colored blips pulsating about a foot above her wrist display.
Spillway...4 kilometers north/northwest. Up the spillway, into the system. Five minutes to pick up.
"Stupid xenos. Fuck the Codes." Alex grunted to herself, the ionic repulsors skating her toward a wall of mixed organic and technological superstructure. Her heart raced, pushing her faster across the dilapidated aquaducts - ancient structures filled in with newly grown flesh and bone.
The thrill granting her speed and purpose, she began to hum to herself an ancient child's song, learned from her grandmother. A song appropriate for her target - Aquatic Distribution Node #4.
A shrill beep from her wrist, with a flash on her HUD - 2 minutes to target. 3 minutes to pick up. Each pedestrian in the causeway was outlined in a wash of neon blue overlay, indicating they carried no weapons and posed no threat to the mission. Hundreds of xenos nonchalantly watching the holos of the battle unfolding above their planet, clustered in courtyards. The atmosphere was one of revelry. Vendors cried out, children wore the colors of their home fighting battalions.
"They picked the wrong fight with the wrong planet."
90 seconds. "PUSHITALEX PUSHGOGOGOGO"
The giant, irregular opening at the end of the aquaduct loomed. The ozone burning off beneath her treads filled Alex's nose. She had to time this right...annnndddddddd.....NOW!
She leaped. No. She flung herself. And landed in the open mouth of the aquaduct. Panting. And exhausted. But, she made it. Thank the Emperor. Her hand found her hip holster and flung the device into the water. Immediately she reflexively activated the hydrophobic shield at her waist.
Then up/around/up/around. She skated in a circle around the giant cistern's walls - count down thrumming in her HUD. As she reach the apex, the clock ticked 0 and she was pulled by some unseen force back through the ionosphere to the waiting ship in orbit.
As she materialized on the deck, the display before her showed her work. A tsunami that extended as far away from the surface of the planet that its gravity would allow began on the opposite side of the planet. Satellites, space elevators, and low orbit defense platforms were obliterated instantly in a super sonic wall of water. It rushed toward the cistern with enough force to create temporary nuclear fusion.
For a second, a tiny white dwarf existed at the center of the xeno's 4th aquatic network as the pressure from every single water molecule on the planet crashed at once into a small 10 by 6cm yellow square. The xenos' ships stopped firing, slowly at first as they came to see what was left of their home. Desiccated family members, crops, pets, buildings. Every single piece of moisture inside a small, yellow rectangle. They transmitted their surrender.
As the readout came across her HUD, Alex smirked to herself. She pulled her helmet off and dropped her shield. As she walked off the bridge, she began to sing out loud the childhood song learned from her grandmother.
"Oh, who lives in pineapple under the sea? Yellow and porous, absorbent is he....." | 2019-11-24T12:29:38 | 2019-11-24T11:06:40 | 363 | 151 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | A general, crying? Preposterous. Utterly preposterous. But it doesn't seem so now that there are so few of us left and the galaxy is a charred ruin.
"I come in peace, but I'm pleading with you, with tears in my eyes: if you fuck with me, I will kill you all."
The Earthling outpost commander sat at the negotiating table and showed what we thought was weakness. Indeed, we laughed at him.
So we pushed them. A minor tactical thrust in an out-of-the-way sector. A few hundred Earthlings, killed; a minor moon with no real resources, occupied. How could we have imagined what would follow? How could we have imagined what lay under the soft facade the Earthlings wore?
The Earthlings reacted to the poke like a cornered, wounded animal. What we didn't know was that the only things keeping them from exterminating each other on their homeworld were the world-killer weapons that we would have thought preposterous if anyone had suggested them to us. Indeed, our spies had given confused reports of their existence. And, the Earthlings made no secret of them. We never knew that for a millennium they had survived only by way of a delicate suicide pact of "mutually assured destruction." A strategic concept so ridiculous only a race of savages like the Earthlings could have conceived of it.
Yet here we are, the last remnants of a galactic civilization of trillions that spanned a thousand millennia. Wiped out, reduced to a few thousand hunted survivors barely clinging to survival. Hiding in dark corners. To our Earthling hunters, we are vermin.
And now, here they come again to finish it. | First attempt.
---{}---
"The Council of Men is in session," John began as he sat down on the head seat. "Let me start by saying that I would not call for a council if it weren't for our cirumstances."
"Ah, yes, circumstances. Like how Xalkian troops are harrassing my merchants," Merchant Captain Artyom replied, sneering. "Those no-good aliens."
"Artyom, calm down now, you and your merchants are not the only victim of Xalkia." Chief Researcher Han-lee sighed as he adjusted the pin on his suit, which represented the scientific nation he was a leader of. "Our research was recently consficated by Xalkian researchers. They think we are too weak to handle it."
John looked at the leader of the military and representative the unified country of Israel. "Any more things to discuss?"
"Israel's own research teams just finished examining their weakness, and my crew barely escaped some of their military," the representative of Israel, Emmanuel, reported. "We have also managed to finish a prototype of a star destroyer weapon with 97% efficiency."
"Those insects didn't listen to our terms. And their time is up." President-General Albert slammed his fist on the desk. "I propose to declare war and activate the Wartime Council."
Emmanuel raised an eyebrow. "You just want to use your old country's weapons and martial law on the colonies. Did they really cross the line?"
"Just because you handle Earth under one nation doesn't mean you need to act all friendly," Albert remarked.
"While Mr. Emmanuel is correct, I'm afraid that I have seen the reports. And I cast a vote to declare war." James sighed. "Anything else?"
"Well, how about we—" Emmanuel stopped and pressed his fingers into his ear. "Mhm... oh... activate level three defenses." He looked at the others with a grim look. "They attacked Mars."
Han-lee gasped while Artyom started cursing in Russian. James looked at Albert before nodding to each other and stood up and took each other seats.
"Wartime council is now in session, we are now at war," Albert told them. "Let these insects know that war is coming, and all Men are now to fire at Xalkia. Let them know that even under the guise of peace, war, war never changes." | 2019-11-24T14:06:56 | 2019-11-24T14:01:28 | 157 | 60 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | "With all due respect Ambassador, we are underestimating the Humans".
There. I said it. A career ending sentence. A diplomatic functionary of the Fourth Resource is only permitted into meetings merely to attend to more senior entities. That's all. To speak in anything other than a hushed whisper is unthinkable. To address the Ambassador directly is a fast track to dismissal, ignominy, shame.
The Ambassador's optical fronds focused upon me. They indicated equanimity, calm. It was receptive. Faznark. I couldn't back down now.
"Every species develops nuclear fission weaponry as an adjunct to energy research. This is not the case with Humans. They developed nuclear weapons precisely because they wanted to use them." Shock. Dismay. "They were engaged in a Total War at the time. They developed fission weapons, tested them, and immediately then began bombing cities - those are their Hive equivalents - and only ceased upon surrender of the opposing force."
I had the attention of the whole assembly now. Optical fronds and aural elevators focused upon me. Gulp. I displayed images of mushroom clouds and irradiated human victims. This caused consternation. Many entities who had previously indicated skepticism now indicated alarm, surprise, disgust.
"After detonation of the fission weapons upon cities, their understanding of the consequences of usage expanded in a logarithmic manner. Incredibly, this did not deter them. They not only expanded their arsenals, they next created fusion weapons." Disarray. Outrage. Disbelief. The Ambassador quickly swiveled his optical fronds, commanding silence. "I displayed images of inter-continental ballistic missiles. "When they developed rocketry, it wasn't to explore beyond their planet as it always is with other species. The rockets were designed primarily to carry fusion warheads. The cities of other factions were targeted, even though they were not in a state of war." This caused much disbelief. The Ambassador queried me.
"How is it that this is unknown, if it is indeed true?" Many optical fronds and aural elevators now indicated agreement, and support for the Ambassador's query. High quality response imperative.
"This happened over two Baxors ago. Standard history review for an Applicating Species is one Baxor." Once more, the Ambassador indicated calm, readiness to receive further information. "Almost every discovery Humans made was preceded by the military counterpart. Example One: personal navigation equipment was preceded by sophisticated targeting systems for cross-continental delivery of fusion weapons. Example Two: turbinial atmospheric aircraft propulsion was developed for combat aircraft, and only much later used for civilian transport. Example Three: semiconductor-based programmable computational electronics was developed for forced de-cryption of enemy messages and for computation of ballistic tables used for artillery - a tube-based delivery system for high explosives." I caused images to be displayed alongside these revelations. Silence. Unease. "The longest period of peace known to humans preceded their realization of the probability of non-human sentient life within the radius of a light-Baxon from their home planet. In short, the human history which we reviewed was atypical of their species' average. The intensity which they bring to war is sobering. Their willingness to risk immolation or even termination, and to accept high rates of both in wartime is terrifying. Suggestion: dis-engage from Total War with humans, and commence comprehensive review of historical human war fighting capabilities. Submission for review: their reputation as perennial non-combatants and weaklings should be given primary re-consideration focus."
Worry. Anxiety. Unease.
The Ambassador paused, engaged in cogitation. His optical fronds shielded his receptors. His aural elevators were made flaccid.
The alarms broke the silence. The entire human fleet dropped out of hyper-space. It was huge. Over two hundred thousand component vessels of Flagellant Class or better. How had the humans expanded their tiny fleet so quickly? How had they approached unnoticed? Then something happened which sealed our doom. Another human fleet dropped out of hyper-space, this one even bigger than the first. Then another, and another. We were truly Faznarked now.
Great was our relief when the humans opened communication, and transmitted the terms of our surrender. | Gahonna was a trading station far out on the rim of the civilised space. At least as far as the Orkunn was concerned. Like any other representative of the Khayo Conglomerate he did not care for anything outside of the Conglomerate borders. Khayo were apex predators, they were the fastest, strongest predators on their planet and remained as one of the stronger species in the galaxy thanks to their blinding speed and ferocity in combat. And so like most of it's species Orkunn looked at the others like the prey they were. And this particular prey was proving more annoying than the others. This prey from the race that calls themselves humans from planet Dirt thinks that Orkunn was here to negotiate.
"Are you new to this quadrant prey?" Orkunn asked after the prey tried to renegotiate the deal again for the fifth time
"As I have said in my introduction humanity has achieved interstellar capability only a century ago and we have been exploring ever since. We are interested in cultural and spiritual exchanges with the other species, we are not interested in becoming slaves to your conglomeration." the savage answered rubbing his nasal passage with two fingers
"Ah this explains it. Don't worry then Conglomerate will teach you your place." Orkunn said and signaled for the guards. They will take this human and take his ship and crew and teach them all that saying no to to your masters is not acceptable. Most of them would die in horrible pain but Orkunn knew that pain is the only thing savages understood and it was so much fun seeing savages writhe and cry out in despair.
His next appointment was with Daro'ss traveler. These sentient energy beings were the only aliens that Khayo respected. Their prowess in the duels as well as public combat matches was outstanding. And since they couldn't be eaten they were the only ones worth respect in Orkunns eyes. Just not enough to actually remember the name.
The door opened and a Daro'ss suit glided in, It kept the everyone from being roasted alive by the heat given off by Daro'ss.
"I saw guards take away the human captain." Daro'ss said without preamble
"Yes, they will teach him and his crew their proper place. A pity I can't put my own talons to him but I still have more work to do. Maybe later if enough of them are still alive. Their females should make for a good meal." Orkunn explained
"Oh. I should probably go visit Khayo Prime while the spires are still standing. Take a few tissue samples for our databanks. I hope humans are merciful towards Khayo and give you a quick death." Daro'ss said and turned around
"Wait. You don't mean to imply that some barbarian prey are going to defeat the mighty Khayo hunters?" Orkunn bristled at the insult
"Orkunn my dear stupid boy. Did you not read what I have sent you about humans when they arrived yesterday?" Daro'ss said as put his palm to his face shield.
"I stopped reading after I read their physical traits. They are no match for us in combat. No claws to pierce our hide, think skin, no venom or acid. They are slow, weak and squishy. There is nothing else to know." Orkunn waved his hand dismissively
"If you had read it you would know that they have already defeated Utlu and exterminated Javllt. Even we fought against them and lost." Daro'ss said
"You lost? Javllt are exterminated?" Orkunn was confused
"Yes, they cleansed the planets occupied by Javllt using nuclear fire. They killed every brood mother and crushed every egg. There are no more Javllt left in the galaxy. Our leaders didn't like it so sent several Plasmaguards to stop them. It wasn't even a fight. They just eliminated them." Dar'ss stated
"But how?" Orkunn was stunned at the news. Javllt were tough to kill and they were impossible to get rid off once a colony wound up on a planet. You can kill tens of them and they would still have more soldier drones. Khayo policy up to now was to leave Javllt infestations alone.
"Humans practice what is called a total war. They don't send a few warriors to fight each other. They send thousands. They produce special vehicles only ever used for combat and arm tens of thousands of them. Once they feel threatened they can turn their whole species into a giant war machine. Dedicated to bringing death to their enemies. We learned to fear the clang of the feet of human soldiers as they march in their combat suits. You will too if you survive." | 2019-11-24T16:08:56 | 2019-11-24T15:28:18 | 98 | 54 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | In the early days of their interstellar empire, the humans were relatively insignificant. They remained as neutral as possible to all conflicts. And, through what seemed like magic, negotiated trade deals, resources for technology, their usual proposal. The humans were so unimpressive, most races made the deal without much thought. It helped that they never asked for weapons, a fact that most noted as odd coming from such a primitive newcomer. But no matter, they're harmless farmers, what's the worst that could happen.
After many years, the humans reputation shifted. Where before they'd gift resources for knowledge, now they provided service and weapons in exchange for territory. Nothing major, a few trade cities per sector. Minor infustructure to support their role as neutral traders. These markets had an excellent byproduct, such a close relationship with a race spread so completely across the galaxy lowered tensions with other factions. The humans made it clear they would defend themselves, and any planet they inhabited by use of tariff and embargo. They ended empires with use of words alone. Not bad for such an unimpressive people.
Everything was fine, until a few hot headed insectoids in sector 6709 got the bright idea to attack a human city. The immediate rewards of such a wealthy people seemed worth the possible risk of such a weak species' wrath. No one had seen much resistance from them before, in fact, human occupied space was the most peaceful in the galaxy. I doubt the bugs even knew the humans built this empire selling weapons. The truth is, the humans never asked for weapons in those early days because it was the one thing they did not need help designing. Humans are not impressive because they are smart, or because of their physicality. They are impressive because of their determination. In a few hours after the initial attack, all humans in that quarter of the galaxy were evacuated to their homeworld. Each city, sprang to life as the final shuttles jumped away. All usable material stripped to manufacture drones, which poured out by the millions. Every life form they encountered was not just exterminated, but brutalized. Forests burned, seas poisoned, cities reduced to rubble. In a few weeks, every subspecies of the insectoids had been rendered extinct, except for a few specimens held in captivity. But it did not end there. Every species sympathetic to their cause. Every wild animal. Every microbe. On every planet, was erased. We learned humans dont fight wars, they eliminate threats.
Human naval ships arrived in orbit today. We never let the humans settle our homeworld, but they found us anyway. They sat their awhile, as if to let the fear sink in. Their vessels were massive. Larger than any other war machines we had ever produced. They lacked usual armaments, at first glance we wondered if they were even armed. They were. They began bombardment simultaneously. Every major city destroyed instantly. They haven't stopped. The temperature increases every day. The sun now burns our skin, and the air is filled with steam. They will not stop. What kind of monster have the gods released upon us. | “huuuumaaaaan” the small grey being said in a mocking tone
President Wells stared at the alien with contempt
“We know all too well of your so called warnings, your pleas, your “negotiations”. We have experience many other species who also could bear look at at the federation firepower and but quiver in fear at our might.”
“Yes bu-“
“CEASE you pink filth, we have loosely watched your kind; guided you- And you dare speak back to me? We finally come back to check on your little rock and feel that it is time to offer the joy that is the federation and to incorporate you into our ranks as the 20,827th species and you dare meet us with disrespect?”
“Naw i meant no disrespect now but how can we ac-“ president wells declared in his thick southern accent before being cut off again
“GOOD! then i see you understand, back to the agreement-
Humans are to surrender themselves unto the federation for work camp allocation, along with any potential technology deemed interesting to this wonderful council”
the gray little figure motioned to the variety of other species present in the hall
“Along with the surrendering of the rights of the “sol” system to be bid for by members of this council and their respective species- and in exchange, humanity gains citizenship! This is a fantastic deal you understand.”
President wells looked at the bug eyed, black, soulless pits sunken into the little grey’s head.
“Now look here Xiabe, im sure this is a great deal, but humanity cannot agree to these terms. They are frankly-“
“ENOUGH. I will not be spoken to in such a manner by a lowly creature such as yourself”
Wells narrowed his eyes
“You will agree to these terms or they will happen through force. You will answer me now, with a simple agreement, and vow to the federation, or you will be forced to do so do you understand me?”
President wells looked at his security detachment before scratching his left ear, then turning to lean in on the railing before him
Wells stared intently into the bobble headed son of a bitch before above.
“We decline.”
Various sounds came from the rows of species representatives above him, some easily discernible as laughter- others like he had never heard before
The grey toned goblin’s eyes widened
“Not only do we decline Xiabe,”
Wells voice barely cut above the cacophony of sound now filking the hall
“but if you touch as much lay a single 6 fingered granite colored hand on any damn one of my kind well Ill kill yall and swear you died”
“Very colorful-“ the alien responded “engage for-“
“No no, no need for that Xiabe- lemme say it for you”
As wells finished one of the security members behind him turned his head, cupped his ear, and moved his mouth softly before a flashes of light began to be seen coming from the surface of the blue marble out the ships window
“What is this?” The grey let ooze out of his mouth, filled with malice
“Its what i tried to warn you bout champ!”
Seconds later explosions in the distance rattled the floor of the ship, as all varieties of aliens in heavy armor began to weave through the levels of the city ship’s conference hall
“Total war buckaroo, M.A.D.”
“WHAT?!”
“Dont tell me you never heard of it now!”
Wells moved back, straightening his coat blazer
“Aw well, you’ll learn soon enough”
President Wells and his security detachment began to shimmer in golden light
“Well, church is out Xiabe, im goin home”
Wells suddenly disappeared leaving a small puff of smoke where he and his crew were.
As the smoke cleared Xiabe Looked out the window, to see a flash of light emerge from the ugly polluted planet below, as it got closer- Xiabe muttered his last words
“Total War...” | 2019-11-24T22:18:47 | 2019-11-24T20:20:21 | 25 | 18 |
[WP] You, a villain, heart set on taking over the world, kidnapped the hero’s sidekick. You find out that you are treating them much better than the hero was and decide to take them under your wing. |
When Rainbow Girl woke up, she knew she was in trouble.
Wherever she was, it wasn't LightSaber's secret base. The bed she was on was not her own - and there was a blanket over her. It was... fuzzy. She sat up slowly, checking cautiously beneath the blanket. She was wearing nearly nothing, but it was the same nearly nothing that she always wore, and other than the smudges from the battlefield, none of it seemed to be much worse for the wear.
Reluctantly, she released the fuzzy blanket and sat up, smoothing down the pleats of the cheerleader skirt - there wasn't much to smooth - and tugging the amply filled "shirt" to make sure it was in place. Most of the ample filling was padding. LightSaber had told her to get implants, but those were expensive, and she couldn't hold down a job what with all the superhero stuff. She'd gotten fired from FiveGuys just last week for missing shifts. Her boss had told her he'd excuse it if LightSaber called it in to confirm, but he'd... not gotten around to it.
Her boots were on the floor, complete with six-inch heels. Rainbow Girl winced at the thought of putting them back on, and slipped out of bed barefoot instead. After a moment's thought, she pulled the blanket around her shoulders. The door to her prison cell was... unlocked. She had not expected that.
Looking back, the prison cell looked more like a spare bedroom. She hadn't really expected that, either. The short hallway led to a dining room, where LightSaber's arch nemesis sat at the table, drinking coffee.
===
The kid was awake.
DarkBlade was pretty sure she wasn't technically a kid - at least, he *hoped* she wasn't a kid, what with what she'd been running around in the last two years since she'd first appeared as LightSaber's sidekick. He was all in favor of the chainmail bikini look for some, of course, but it had started feeling a bit weird once he'd kidnapped the girl.
It had really been all too easy. LightSaber had been fighting his minions, and the kid had been cheering him on as usual. Supporting him. No one was exactly sure what her powers *were*, but that was just one of the things he aimed to find out.
"Sit down."
She obeyed without question. Good. That meant he wasn't losing his touch. DarkBlade took another drink of coffee, giving her a measuring look. "So. *Rainbow Girl*. We meet at last."
"Um. I think we met last year at the thing in LA? I mean... no, of course, you're right. I must be mistaken. We meet. Um. At last."
He had not expected resistance - nor had he expected it to crumble so quickly. The funny thing was that he was pretty sure she was correct, there *had* been that thing in LA about a year ago, and several things since then - that was why he knew she was his nemesis' sidekick, after all - but she didn't argue.
Sidekicks were supposed to argue, right? He was a supervillain. He looked into the coffee cup, but there weren't any answers floating in it. A drink proved that there were no answers in the next layer, either, which left getting information out of the kid.
"So then. Rainbow Girl. We... meet again. What, exactly, *are* your mysterious powers?" There, that had sounded much better.
"Um." She certainly seemed to say that often. "I... make rainbows?"
DarkBlade blinked. "What, that's it?"
Her defeated sigh made him wince - internally, of course, a supervillain did not betray his feelings, or even betray that he might have them. "I know. It's not very good. Um. LightSaber says I should be able out how to make lasers or something but I... I kinda just do rainbows."
"You've been in *combat zones*!" This was, perhaps, not the best use of my supervillain voice.
"Well... yes, but I didn't do much good? LightSaber says that if I can't be useful I should at least be... um. Ornamental."
The tiny little cheerleader outfit made a sudden and disturbing sort of sense - DarkBlade suddenly knew exactly who had picked that out - and the idea was given even further credence by the way she kept the blanket held tightly around herself.
"He made you a cheerleader." Flatly. Her look suggested she thought she might have done something wrong, but she nodded, just a little. "Do you... *like* cheerleading?"
"Um. It's important that I support LightSaber in whatever way I can, and what with my limited capabilities I... that's about all I *can* do."
"But you don't like cheerleading." She frowned, uncertain, and Darkblade took the opportunity to finish his coffee, watching her out of the corner of his eye. *Rainbows. Seven-colored hells*. And a tiny inappropriate cheerleader outfit, and... glittery makeup, of course, but now that he was really looking at her, there was the faintest smudge of black eyeliner that had been... perhaps hastily removed, before a battle?
Darkblade set the mug down on the table, his stare turning intent. "Rainbow Girl... I have one more question. I need to know the truth."
"I won't betray-"
Darkblade held up his hand, patiently, shaking his head. "Not him. Forget him." She wouldn't, he didn't think, but she nodded tentatively anyway.
He gave a look of intense focus. "What is your favorite color?"
She winced. Her answer, a whisper: "...Black." | *Note first prompt pls no rage on bad "x" thing*
Standing on the roof of skyscraper; you're just a few minutes away from unleashing the most powerful, the most incredible monstrosity upon the world and finally claim it as your own.
/You hear sound coming beneath you followed by the ground starting to tremble/
Suddenly coming from beneath floor appears the so-called "Number 1 Hero"... Bob and his sidekick... "Fantistic Juan" wait hang on I think he is "Fantistic Juan...the..uhh..fourth...no maybe fith... aaah who cares he is just the sidekick anyway" you think to yourself.
As your ultimate weapon has been charging and now with only seconds to spare; you try and hold off Bob and his sidekick Juan but with just a momentary lapse of focus Juan managed to land a critical blow which damaged a crucial component triggering the self-destruct sequence (which was initially added to prevent the hero organization from screwing you over again). "You fool!" you shout at Juan "Do you have any idea how long it took to perfect and build that? ... Parts are fricken expensive and hard to come by man; couldn't you have literally just stood there or even hit one of the cheaper components is that too much to ask for.."
With the ultimate weapon about to implode upon itself; Bob punches you with little restraint causing you stagger backwards. "This is the last time you'll ever try something like this again Garathor" Bob yells as he blasts you off the roof with his seemingly overpowered energy-blast.
You start falling off the roof to what seems to be a nice hard concrete bed of DEATH. As you decide that is not really to your liking you open a dimensional-rift a couple of feet below you. Moments before you fall into the rift... it dawns on you - you can make Bob regret stopping you for the last and final time ever(you think atleast).
You realize the "Not So Fantastic Juan.. after he broke your ultimate weapon" is standing over the edge watching you fall. You use your pre-owned mind-grasp device that you got on sale at the local VillianMart ( which channels your willpower and intelligence which allows the user to inhibit telekentic powers for a short duration ) to grab Juan off the roof and through the rift with you.
/You both slam into your secret cave with a thub and a couple of groans later/
Juan looks at you and states "I will stop you Garathor, just wait until Bob gets ...he..re.." He vomits and you laugh maniacally "I see the inter-dimensional travel sickness has got you good huh?" He continues to hurl as you chain him preventing him from resisting and continuing your monologue about how truly amazing you are and how they are not ..blah blah blah yada yada yada some other important things and the monologue ends.
"So sidekick tell me exactly what I want to know otherwise this could get real painful, real quick" you notice that all the spunk and confident demeanor has disappeared leaving behind an appearance akin to that of a stray, abused dog.
"WHATS THE MATTER NOW? I JUST CAN'T GET A BREAK CAN I, FIRST YOU BREAK THE FRICKEN EXPENSIVE MACHINE AND NOW YOU START SULKING WHAT IS UP WITH YOU... UGGHHH" You yell as you pace up and down. While enraged you notice the uniform Juan is wearing seems identical to his predecessors; upon furthed inspection you start to notice scarring and scar tissue over his body.
You calm yourself, sit down next to him and ask "Now look here sidekick even though we don't always see eye to eye, heck we never see eye to eye. Whats up with this uniform it looks as old as the first Fantastic Juans', also whats up with all the scars?".
Juan begins to break down crying; just moments ago before your master plan was thwarted there was this energetic and lively sidekick; now all thats left is a husk of his former self that's emitting beaten, broken and hopeless aura.
"Geez just answer the questiosn will you" you state even though your concern is growing. Juan starts speaking "You know what? My name isn't even Juan not even remotely close my real name is Eric. And yes this is that exact uniform from all the previous Juans as for the scars; whenever Bob loses a fight or wants to train guess who is used as a personal punching bag because I'm "just a sidekick". What do you think happened to my predecessors?... you know what ignore everything and just end it here I dont care anymore" Eric closes his eyes and it seems as though he is awaiting something.
You unclip his shackles and tell him to follow you; as Eric follows you through this ever-shifting dimension of yours you start talking to him "You know Eric I have fought many-a Juans over the years but I never knew what happened to them but now it all comes together. When I was younger my father used to beat me just for the sake of "building character" he said after each beating. So I know the rage, resentment and hate boiling from within you and all I can say is... USE THAT AS FUEL, USE THAT TO DRIVE YOU, USE THAT TO BECOME SO POWERFUL NO ONE WILL DARE LAY SO MUCH AS A FINGER ON YOU WITHOUT YOUR PERMISSION..."
/You notice a faint smile on his face and the return of life within his eyes as you walk.../
/As you reach your destination you tell Eric that there are appropriately sized clothes within the room and that he should take a shower and get changed into the clothes/
Eric comes out after a while with a huge grin on his face; "What?" you ask - Eric responds "No one has ever treated me so kindly before or even treated me as another human before; you know I am actually 16 right?". It dawns on you, for these mere moments you were helping this boy; you were more of a hero to him than the so-called "Number 1 Hero".
"You know if you want you can stay here, you can have that room. We might be a little broken but I think two broken might just make one whole person... or one worse person but lets focus on the positive" you ask the kid. The boy is overjoyed and jumps onto you squeezing and hugging you well stating "Are you sure? You aren't joking right? A room just for myself? You know I've always had to sleep in the living room in the couch or on the mats in the exercise room.."
"Geez, alright kid and yes to all of the above would you just get off me.. We need to go grab some dinner"
/You and your newly "adopted" to-be villiabous-sidekick head off to enjoy a meal in what the kid will realize is the dimension which all villains reside within/ | 2020-03-26T17:05:24 | 2020-03-26T17:01:36 | 61 | 10 |
[WP] It seemed like a perfect magical deal. When any child descended from you is born you grow younger by a single year. So you agree, planning on a big family and living to a ripe old age. Years later however you find yourself rapidly growing younger and regret not understanding exponential growth. | Life begats life. This is plainly known. Less known is the magical potential every life holds. Even if it's never realized, it's possible to tap into that magical pool.
I was in my 37th year in this realm, which though it may not look like it, was a long time ago, when I struck upon a wondrous deal. How could I not leap at the chance. THreads of life continue from man to man through his (or her) progeny. And each new generation adds to the potential pool. It seemed like a stroke of luck when I found that i could youthen myself every time a descendant was born of my line.
I knew it would take time, which seems counter-intuitive. But I'd already sired seven kids, five of which still survive, and the oldest of which fathered a brat of his own. The way I saw it, the next ten years would likely be a wash, as I would regain those years as the children came of age and did what children do.
Over the next twenty years, more than twenty grandchildren were born. Many didn't survive their first winter, but I still felt their magical essence flowing toward me, like a cherub firing an arrow. And as fit as I'd become, I fathered a few more of my own, keeping myself perpetually in my 30s. Or so was my goal.
During a family gathering in the middle of the lull, I realized that some thirty-plus offspring under the age of majority. In a few short years, this could pose a problem, particularly since many of the young men had my handsome features, and most of the young ladies as well.
It dawned on my to speak to my children about playing matchmaker. I extolled the virtues of keeping the family bloodline pure. I didn't believe it this, at all, but I laid it on thick. Through intermarrying of first and second cousins, I could limit the size of the next generation to come. This solution seemed to work for a while.
And then the kingdom went to war. At first, this was a boon, as many of my great grandsons didn't return home from battle. On the other hand, there was Davrock the seed spreader, who could woo any barmaid or farmer's daughter out of her innocence. I had a devil of a time tracking down some of them. I would introduce myself and preach the danger of wanton lust and fornication.
But no one wants to be lectured by a fifteen year old.
With nary a sane idea left, my thoughts turns to hiring cutthroats, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Luckily, waves of plague and pestilence sailed through, diminishing the population for a short while. The kingdom recovered and I managed to regain an apparent thirty years of age once more.
After that, it was like riding a spring, with my age bouncing up and down faster than my waistline. And yet I managed to live for a couple hundred years.
And that is the story of how your great-great-great-great-great-great ... great... grandfather came to live until this very day. Now here are some pamphlets on family planning. You don't have to drop a new child every spring, you know. | When I met little Richard he seemed not to recognize me. They had torn down the attic and was in the process of scraping the rest of the house. It was very hot and there was sawdust in the air. I did not manage to recover our common history from Richard, so I handed him a business card and played an insurance salesman. The lines I delivered perfectly. In the backyard there was this big tree surrounded by patches of highlighted grass. Under cover from the sun I recalled quite a while ago there was this tattoo I made on the tree. I did not find it, however.
​
I wished to inquire of Stephanie's grave, which proved unfruitful since the man was busy with work and busy chasing me away. Very subtle, of course, with a little frown on his face detectable only by Stephanie and by me, who she taught the art. When I used to hold him in my arms he must have also made this kind of face often. I had no idea then until years later when Stephanie finally revealed her secret. What fragile illusion I had had of being the better grandfather soon dispelled. I suppose he had never liked me very much.
​
I walked the whole way back the station. It always calm me when I have a goal in mind. Better more if the goal stays unmovable, unchangeable. Maybe that's why I enjoyed train rides greatly. Whatever I do, I can live assured that there is this station I will get off at. Such is fate.
​
My shadow grew shallow, I had lost a few wrinkles on my face. To the side of the road there was a field with grass higher than my head. The warm humid summer wind tickled them slightly. I remembered this sensation of humidity upon my skin. On a grass field, too, away from the main road, I had lain with a woman. A damned dog I was, going around spreading my seeds. With every regained youths I sought again to expand my roots. But this woman I lain with, let the humid wind sing, mind you, this Oriental woman, she once made me tired of going around. She had a big family, too. I had thought if I stayed with her I too would have a big family. But I didn't understand them, and they didn't understand me. I remembered, through the fading light of the station, her little figure waving as I departed. The rhythm of the train awakes me some nights, and when it does I could always imagine the same figure waiting for my return.
​
The Oriental woman might have cursed me. In her head, she would never say it out loud. I knew a few who would, though. She would curse me in her head, yes, and then she would be sad, and she would feel bad because she had cursed me. It would sadden her more. Now that I thought about it, she always had this willowy, sad look on her face. Enough for a man to settle down. Not me, though. Of all the women I had mated with, some might understand me, although no one I could recall. Every year I grow older and lose a bit of memory, then I grow younger and lose another bit of history. I could always love as if it was my first love, and because of that I could love no one. The women grow old. They lose their options. I never lose my options. Every time I become young I have wanted to try out a new life. Most of the time it ends on several broken hearts.
​
When I reached the station I could see my train over the horizon. I scratched Stephanie out of the notebook. It would be best if in my sleep I disintegrate. If not, I figured I could scrape out of my mind some names. I don't want to die alone. | 2021-04-15T11:13:01 | 2021-04-15T11:09:08 | 144 | 20 |
[WP] Abraham: "No, I will not sacrifice my son. I refuse to worship a God who asks for the death of children" | "Good."
Abraham frowned. "Wait what?"
"This was a test. I demand much of my children, but i will not make them violate that law." god replied. "Life is the most percious gift to you... you know, I can already see timelines where you do it because you have faith i provide an alternative to you, my son, or because you remember i cannot make a nation out of a corpse... well, actually I COULD and also just bring him back but that's besides the point. "
"So... why ask?"
"Free Will is the greatest gift i can give to anything that lives. It doesn't matter how godly i am if my creation obey me without choice. for that is what love is; to continue to love something even when it goes against you, but-" He paused. "Love is also being unafraid to doubt and bring it up to them. Blind Faith is an unjust cause." | God smiled. "Congratulations, Abraham. When you haggled with Me over Sodom and Gomorrah, I was pleased. I seek to engage with people and connect to them, and by bargaining with Me to spare a city your nephew was in but was otherwise full of strangers you found favor in My sight."
He spread his arms wide. "Across the land, from the Tigris to the Euphrates and in the world beyond, children are sacrificed to unholy pretenders to ensure the fertility of their parents. Long after the childbearing years of your wife, I gave you a son to show you I keep My promises and that I desire obedience, not sacrifice, and that I could do things that you believed to be impossible."
"When I asked for you to sacrifice your son, I was asking you a question: do you know Me? Do you think of Me as the followers of Molech, Baal, and Ashera think of them, or have you seen Me to be different? Have you been paying attention? Are you willing to again choose to engage with me on this? Are you willing to protect not only your nephew but also your son as I would protect the world if they would but seek to know Me? Your emphatic refusal to sacrifice your son and to obey not merely what I say but what you believe Me to truly desire of you has delighted me."
"I have great plans for you now, Abraham, and will spread your children across the world. Let me show you..." | 2021-04-20T10:51:31 | 2021-04-20T09:06:43 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] The local museum is run by an eccentric old man who knows the opening pieces like he was there for their whole history. His secret? He’s a secret dragon who figured out if you display your hoard, people will give you new things to display. | "So you saw."
"Yeah."
Mr. Golde sighed, looked at the ground, and folded his gnarled hands together. I'd never paid much attention to his hands before. Now that I did, I saw the tell-tale long fingernails that were more pointed than rounded at the ends.
Around us were glass cases full of toys -- bisque dolls, metal cars, tin toy soldiers, wooden animals. Usually the museum felt friendly. Today it felt like the toys were judging both me and the old man who took care of them. Directly behind Mr. Golde was a smiling plastic robot with removable gears and a top hat. It was supposed to whistle when you turned it on.
*Mr. Machine, Ideal. 1960s.*
"I don't suppose you want to keep working here, then," Mr. Golde said.
"Huh?" His words surprised me. "What are you talking about?"
"Not many people want to apprentice under a dragon, even one who's damn near perfected the art of shapeshifting," he said. "It's bad luck."
"I'm not an 'apprentice,' I'm a part time employee," I said. "And I still want to work here until school starts up in the fall. This is the best job I've ever had."
"I was afraid you'd say that," Mr. Golde said. He shook his head, jostling his thick round glasses. Then he opened a case and took out a small bisque doll of an impish cartoon baby wearing a soldier's belt and a hand-painted Prussian helmet.
*Kewpie, Rose O'Neill. 1910s.*
"Tell me, how much do you know about these toys?" he asked, putting the Kewpie back.
"I dunno," I said as he picked up a hollow die-cast car and rolled it across the reception desk.
*Mercedes-Benz, Tootsie Toy. 1940s.*
"If you had to guess, how many do you think you could name?" he asked.
"Uhhh..." I looked around the room, trying to gauge how much I knew.
*Teddy Ruxpin, Hasbro. Chatty Cathy, Mattel. Tubby the Dog, Einco.*
"A lot of them," I shrugged.
"Then your fate is already sealed," Mr. Golde said.
"Fate?"
"The Dragon's Curse," he said, looking over at a rare doll from the 1960s. She wore a patched burlap sack and had oversized eyes complete with a fat tear rolling down her cheek. I had the impression that her sadness was for me.
*Little Miss No Name, Hasbro. 1960s.*
"Should you willingly choose to apprentice under a dragon," Mr. Golde continued, "you enter into a contract with him--a contract which incurs a horrible curse. I'd made the mistake of taking on an Apprentice in the mid-1800s. I swore I'd never do it again."
I shuffled in my spot. I didn't want to believe what the old man was saying, but after seeing him crammed into his office with scales and wings, I wasn't sure it was wise to distrust him.
"Passing down the knowledge of ones hoard seals the Curse," he said. "But, fortunately for you, it also teaches you how to endure it."
"What is the curse?" My words trembled at the edges. "What's going to happen to me?"
"Old knowledge really *does* die after a time," he said. He pulled a "wacky bird" novelty pen off of the reception desk and swiped its fluffy feather-hair across my face.
I sneezed out a small burst of fire.
"If you're already doing *that*, then I've taught you more than I thought," said Mr. Golde as smoke trailed from my nostrils. "You'd be wise to select your hoard quickly, unless you want to get stuck collecting old bottlecaps 'til the end days."
*For more weirdness, visit* r/OctOpusTales *!* | #The Claws of History
"Welcome! Welcome! To the Godfried Grave of Gotten History, where all of the relics of the world with true significance are collected for your enjoyment. You are free to peruse at your heart's content but please, let me show you our most precious items first."
Towering over my fellow patrons, the museum curator gestured forward into a laser guarded display room. The trifecta of historical power lay behind him as a reminder of our people's horrid past: a golden mask with rubies encrusted at its cheeks; a blood stained silver sword larger than most men; And a diamond gem glowing with a blue aura.
"Here we have the Mask of Antiquity. Created by dwarven artificers for the Perovian empress herself. It was buried atop her head, in 1303 BCE, and all of its powers lost to the ages. In 1643 the mask was stolen by tomb raiders and held by a band of bandits until it made its way to a local guard captain. This captain turned it into his king who commissioned a report on its magical significance. A local nobleman held unto the mask after discovering its effects on the wearer. He eventually took over the kingdom and set out across the land to seize as much power as possible. That man's name? Pulius Cleaver."
The crowd applauded. I joined in. I wasn't sure if we were clapping for the acquisition of the majestic artifact or for the clever word choice in the history lecture. But I stopped when the others quieted down.
"Beside the mask, we have Sir Dancealot's legendary sword. This blade slew the dragon, Thorncrux, whose rein was terrible in its enormity. Thorncrux burned kingdoms to the ground without hesitation or remorse. Many kings offered their daughters to Thorncrux in exchange for peace. The fate of the women is unknown to this day. Thorncrux grew so large that no mountain could hide him anymore. Sir Dancealot led a giant army made of humans, elves, dwarves, and even shorties. Though the great dragon burned or ate them all, with one last stab from within the lizard's mouth, Sir Dancealot killed the dragon with this sword. Found one day in an excavation. We were lucky to have procured it without much harm."
Again we applauded politely. I couldn't help but notice the blood on the sword. It may have been just a trick of the light, but didn't it look too fresh?
The tall curator continued, "And last, but certainly not least. I'm sure you all recognized it from your history classes the moment you saw it. But allow me the pleasure of repeating its amazing tale.
"When the world was forged by the gods two million years ago, several artifacts of divine energy broke off in the creation process. The power contained in the Life Stone is said to grant the holder with the power to control death itself. Throughout history, horrible rulers have squabbled over its magnificence. Necromancers, commanders of demonic hordes, plague benders, all held power solely from the grace of this fragment of our origin. It was only President Washingpound who freed us from its tyranny by declaring it to be owned by the people, for the people. Since an entire nation now owns this magical device, no one person has the ability to call ownership, and thus its power is extinguished."
Amidst the clapping, I couldn't help but voice my concern, "But then, why is it still glowing?"
The clapping stopped as the crowd looked at me.
"Ah hahaha, my dear boy -"
"I'm a grown man actually."
"I see you need a refresher on your history, of which I am most happy to oblige.
"When the world separated from the divine realm, dripping off Glodthorn's anvil and cooling in the expanse of space, a thread of magical energy bound souls between the two planes. All items capable of traversing the two realms will glow with this energy whether or not their power is usable. Does that clarify the topic for you?"
"Uh, yeah I guess."
"Wonderful. So as I said you may look to your hearts content. But if you touch anything, your hands will separate from your body for the protection of all. Please enjoy responsibly."
As the curator whisked away into a back room marked, 'Employees only,' I couldn't help but notice the tail of his coat seemed to hover over an invisible bump at his back.
I jimmied the lock open and stepped inside to find a long corridor stretching like a ramp down into the earth. The curator was nowhere to be seen amongst the dozens of closed doors. | 2021-07-01T04:58:02 | 2021-07-01T04:16:30 | 691 | 38 |
[WP] As a psychic interrogator you've seen many people do many things to resist you reading their mind. Some use pain, some try to Marshall their thoughts, some even repeat a word or mantra ad nauseam. For the first time you're shocked at how someone did it. | I sat in the seat, across from the gentleman being interrogated. My non-psychic partner is a more classically trained interrogator. Legally speaking, the person being questioned is required to be informed before I enter the room.
This is when people try the different things to keep me out. Not out of the room, just out of their heads. Whatever they go with was amusing at first, but now only the most creative do something particularly new.
This counted as new.
My partner was still asking questions of the man in his suit. Were it not for his compliance in handing over identification, we wouldn’t know his name. If he hadn’t requested a lawyer, we wouldn’t have known he spoke English.
I couldn’t see anything from him.
I don’t mean a black black void, or a blank white void. I mean my own mind put that there because of the lack of anything that I could get from him.
He seemed aware of this, as once his lawyer was present, he was willing to discuss what answers he should give. Under legal council he informed us that he operating as directed by his employer, some major company, and that we request a copy of his contract with them.
After review of the contract, we learned that technically he was not in violation of the law, and that he has been strong armed into a bad situation. Similarly, he could not tell us about said contract without violating it, but he *could* do things that looked suspiciously like breaking the law to get our attention.
If anything, he was an especially clever mule for documents for a company. But the company was exploiting him, and he finally had his out.
Once everything was settled, and he was out of that contract, I got the opportunity to speak with him again. After all the typical disclaimers of, ‘I can read your mind and am required to let you know,’ I asked, “How can you keep me out?”
He sighed at that, “It’s why they hired me in the first place. I have a condition called ‘Aphantasia’ which means I can’t visualize. I didn’t keep you out, there was just nothing to see.”
r/Aphantasia sends their regards. | I focused, and came to the surface thoughts layer. It was unusually abstract, but rather than fighting back, the subject's mind seemed to assist me in, providing useful details.
I hesitated - could this be a trick to draw me off track? No, this was definitely on topic, right at the core of why citizen 1052377191 might betray the state. I just didn't know how it was connected to that potential betrayal. The outer shell of the thoughts definitely indicated potential betrayal. No doubt about that. But that wasn't damning in itself.
Most commonly, citizens - myself included - had a will to become great, or appreciated. This could be worked with, converted into energy bent towards service of the collective. That was present in this mind to a somewhat less than normal degree, and was definitely not what I was examining.
Some are reflexively anti-authority. These resist, and attempt silly methods of preventing my discovering this. That was not at work here either.
A very few were agents of the Enemy. Those resisted as well, and though somewhat more effective, their methods of resistance either failed completely or at least were comprehensible, and at any rate very easily detected. This was definitely not an Enemy agent.
If not that… I must see what its contents were in more detail.
Neutrally laid out lists of the explicit rules of our society. Some reasonable and fair descriptions of the unspoken rules of our society. Some notes about… incentive gradients? And a… drain? An… attractor. A… an ensemble of models of the world, all of which converge on another world. A worse world. It isn't our state. It is anathema to the state.
Now, this is like some things I've seen before - citizens who believe incorrectly about what the state is. But… that is not quite what I'm looking at here either. This citizen knows what the state is *now*. We are in agreement on this. They just think it is inevitable that the state will turn into that horrid mess.
I backed off, regaining motor control. I held my pen just above the page, almost but not quite writing down a quick reeducation recommendation. The only things they would learn there were that their predictions were correct and further along than they had hoped. I found myself on one of those incentive gradients. It was a precipice.
I had to think. And if I took the time to think now, that would make the decision of what to do for me.
I let citizen 1052377191 go with an entirely accurate note about their sub-normal thirst for recognition and their attitude towards authority generally and specifically, and their not being an agent. I wrote that they have a conscientious interest in the future success of the state, wishing for it to be great.
It was after they were gone that I realized that I had completely neglected to search into where they had gotten those ideas. | 2022-01-14T12:25:12 | 2022-01-14T11:36:26 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] They say you’re unstable, and they tread on eggshells around you but nobody will tell you why. After waking up with complete amnesia, you have no memory of who you are and so that makes you even more curious as to why everyone is terrified of you. | Violated, hurt, angry, I hear a man's scream and I wake up with a start. The airline attendants are keeping their distance. The man next to me is sweating. . Brown, mister Brown. I remember him, the doctors. It has been what? Two weeks since I woke in the hospital. They call me Anna. I don't know if that is my real name, it doesn't feel right. But every time I try to concentrate on the past it hurts.
Mr. Brown calms down and pats my hand. "The dream again?"
I straighten my school top and whisper. "Every time I sleep."
"I am sure it will fade with time. For now we are coming in to land."
I nod and buckle up as we land. I look out the window at the early morning view of Japan. I am not sure how or why but we bypassed customs and were met by a smartly dressed man and woman.
When we got to them I give a low bow. <Thank you for coming to meet us. I am thankful for the consideration.>
The three adults look at me like I grew a second head, and mister Brown again looks ready to run. The lady with them speaks first. "We were not informed you spoke Japanese."
"I apologize, I did not realize I had. . . I do not know what languages I can speak."
The woman smiled reassuringly. "I am Mitsuragi Misa, and I shall be your guide on your first week at the academy. Let's collect your luggage and. . ." She trailed off as I lifted my bag.
"I have everything here. School clothing as outlined in the school requirements." She continued to smile as we left the men to talk. I don't know why they were concerned about carrying a bag off the plane. I mean I had brought it with me, didn't I? | Upon a stabbing pain in my eyes, I awoke to see three ugly mugs before me.
"Boss!" Ugly #1 cried. His tears streamed down from behind pitch-black sunglasses.
"Boss! you're finally awake!" Ugly #2 snivelled and wiped his snot on his sleeve.
Ugly #3 didn't say anything but remained stiffly in a corner, unsure if he should approach.
As the haze in my mind cleared a little, I soon realised that ugly #1, #2 and #3 were kneeling on the floor beneath what looked like a mattress. Where was I? Better still, I don't remember becoming the boss of three ugly snivelling shit!
"Why the fuck are you pussies weeping as if your husband died?" I snarled and attempted to sit up but was quickly propped up by Ugly #1 and #2 who looked terrified for some odd reason.
"Please don't move around too much, boss. If you need anything, please give us orders." Ugly #3 finally spoke up, contributing to the pounding headache.
Annoyed, I shrugged the arm that Ugly #2 was holding and the dramatic goon fell backwards as if someone had tackled him down. Too much in a shitty mood with the killer headache, I called for some water. Ugly #1 immediately rushed to get a glass but the moment I reached for it, the stupid glass shattered in my hand and wet everything.
Soaked and in a shitty mood without any knowledge of the situation, I ignored the terrified goons' warnings and tossed the blanket aside, not caring how it hit the wall as I attempted to stand, only to fall nose-first into the floor.
"Boss!" Ugly #2 tried to catch me but the moment I held his shoulder by support, I heard a familiar sickening sound.
Crack!
Sure enough, I knew this sound as an agony-filled shout filled the room. Ugly #2's shoulder was definitely broken and maybe dislocated as he writhed on the floor. Ugly #1 quickly got to his comrade's aid while Ugly #3 stood around like a lost statue.
Little by little, things started to come back to me. Oh yes, they had every right to tread lightly around me. After all, aren't I the immortal God Crusher? Only that the one I fought previously wasn't a God so I got crushed instead.
"Fuck!" I smashed the floor beside me, sending debris flying everywhere as the goons ducked for cover. "Fuck it all!" | 2022-03-02T04:36:21 | 2022-03-02T04:31:36 | 45 | 32 |
[WP] You are secretly the strongest supervillain in the world. Because you are stronger than all of the strongest heroes combines your life is consumed by an overwhelming apathy, to the point where you stop fighting at 1/4 your power and give up. Today, someone finaly pissed you off… | Unbelievable. He knew he had let the charade go on for far too long but he never had anticipated *this*. The hubris. The audacity! Twelve long years of pretending to let the Super Squad "beat" him. Time and time again he let them boast in front of the media that they had bested the great Zaldrax. And *this* was the thanks he got.
Zaldrax stormed up to the palm scanner at the back entrance of his secret lair and used a little more force than was strictly necessary...much like what he did to the Red Wasp...and much like the Red Wasp, his expensive palm scanner now lay in several pieces on the ground. No matter. Zaldrax would have the minions replace it. It's not like anyone would have the guts to charge him anything for the new scanner anymore.
He had to get his temper under control. So much effort to hold back all these years and create his evil overlord persona. Now that the Super Squad only had 3 living members, two of which were still in critical condition, he might actually have to take over the world. All Zaldrax's careful planning gone in two minutes of blind fury.
The minions on guard duty just inside the entrance of his lair actually trembled when they noticed it was Zaldrax who had peeled back the three foot thick steel reinforced doors as if they were merely a curtain. *I guess poker on Tuesday was off then.* He couldn't exactly play cards with people who thought they were going to be ripped in half...maybe he went too far with the Nature Twins. But they had said that even four of Zaldrax could not handle one of the twins. Now they were folded up just like the doors behind him.
The guards nearly fainted with relief as Zaldrax swept past them. He needed a bath to settle his mind...and to wash off all the blood. As a terrified minion drew up the hot water for his bath, it occurred to Zaldrax that the fools really hadn't realized the chasm between their feeble "power" and his might. *I guess they knew now...or at least for the few moments it took for them to die.*
Zaldrax let the hot water seep into him as he was lost in contemplation. Yes, now that the illusion of the Super Squad was ground to dust, he would have to deal with the militaries of the world. And they would not stop until they were completely annihilated and under Zaldrax's control.
He never wanted to rule the world. It wasn't like the comic books he had read as a child. You had make so many boring decisions. How will he feed everyone? How will he manage land disputes? How could he ever relax when every waking moment someone would be trying to kill him? Sure, squashing flies was a minor annoyance at first, but when there are thousands of them every day it was so *tiresome*.
It wasn't even satisfying. He was just left with frustration after the rage had faded. Zaldrax had tried to ignore Giga Gorilla's taunts in front of the crowd watching the fight. But when Giga Gorilla had dared to call Zaldrax weak...something inside him just snapped. Well Giga Gorilla certainly didn't have much to say now without a mouth. Zaldrax was not proud of making him kiss his own ass in front of all those kids...
Zaldrax grabbed a towel off the hook and stepped out of the tub. He would not let this ruin his night. On his way to his bedroom he sighed and resigned himself to the fact that he would have to take on more responsibility now that there was no one able to stop him. The world expected villains to be evil and would not be convinced otherwise. But he would have just one more night of peace before his conquest began...And that meant not watching the evening news.
Edit: minor formatting and grammar changes. | WalkMan stood in the ruins of the orphanage, ignoring the searing heat of the flames licking his skin. Even over this distance, I could hear his most powerful fighting song erupting from his headphones.
Good. This would be a more entertaining battle than usual.
With a single step, WalkMan jumped, flinging himself across the hundred yards or so between us. His boots ignited a nearby plant as he landed.
"DOCTOR DOOMSDAY", he shouted over the CocoMelon song blasting through his headphones. "THIS TIME YOU HAVE GONE TOO FAR."
I held up my mechanical arms in a 'calm down' gesture. "Calm yourself, my Nemesis. No children were harmed today."
I was quite aware that WalkMan was the reason I even had these cyborg arms. In one of our first meetings, WalkMan had surprised me with his secret power-maximizing songs and ripped both of my original arms from my torso. I had made sure to never underestimate him again.
He, however, had never seen me at my full power. Not even half.
WalkMan threw a punch, striking me in the jaw. The blow glanced off harmlessly. This was one of several defensive bodily upgrades I had implemented, thanks to the help of my growing team of Doomsquad minions.
I made an exaggerated show of only lightly touching the cheek that took the brunt of the blow. "Ouch" I said, "that stung. Might hurt worse if you still had all 5 fingers on that hand."
My reference to the finger I had severed at our last battle did exactly as I had expected. WalkMan let out a savage scream, and launched at me with all of his super-powered might. I blocked blow after blow, my mechanical arms reacting faster than any standard human could even follow.
One of my Doomsquad minions buzzed my inner ear communication device twice. This was the code that meant they had successfully evacuated the orphans to my Fortress of Doomitude, to be trained and educated to their full potential. Now, I only needed to keep WalkMan distracted until the second team had gotten all of the information from the corrupt orphanage director, then we could conclude this venture.
I activated a small EMP device in my palm, just enough to knock WalkMan's earphones out for a few minutes. I just wanted to talk, after all.
The hero's music suddenly died. He glanced around, startled. His confusion and fear caused me to cackle in villainous delight.
"Well, WalkMan" I said, cackling still. "It seems that you need to rethink that particular weakness for next time."
WalkMan said nothing, but resumed his fighting stance. I cackled once more. I would need to grab a throat lozenge when I got back to the Fortress of Doomitude after all this cackling.
"You would fight me without your powers? This is why I've always admired you, WalkMan." I admitted.
"I don't even think of you between fights", WalkMan said through gritted teeth.
My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. "W... what? But we're Nemesis..."
He didn't respond.
All of my anger boiled over instantly, triggering several internal system alarms simultaneously. After all I had done for him, finding his unknown son for him, building the wellness clinic for him, making him the godfather of my two boys...
In a blind rage, I unleashed my full power at WalkMan.
A beam of pure energy surged from my chest, channeling through my arms and out of my fists. Its brilliance muted all other lights, casting new shadows wherever it struck. I didn't even realize I was screaming until my throat cried out in pain.
I collapsed to my knees, sobbing with what little voice I had left. WalkMan was nowhere to be seen. What I could see was the top of the mountain I had burnt away, and behind that...
The moon looked slightly different. I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was, until a sizeable chunk drifted into view from the side cast in shadow.
"WalkMan..." I sobbed.
I didn't know how long I knelt there, a super villain crying in public. All I knew was my stoic henchmen helped me into the DoomCopter without a word, and returned to the sky.
I stared out the armored window of the vehicle as we sped away. In the very corner of my sight, I could have sworn I saw WalkMan watching us leave... but I couldn't be sure. I could never be sure again.
r/SlightlyColdStories for more. | 2022-07-08T17:05:10 | 2022-07-08T14:22:48 | 617 | 260 |
[WP] The magical races enslaved magic-less humans centuries ago. To expand their empires, the magical races travel and conquer different dimensions. They soon stumble across and try to conquer a magic-less world full of humans. It did not go well. | "Tripod set?"
"Yep"
"Okay, wind is North North West and 6 knots"
"Adjusting, range?"
"832m and these guys aren't serious right?"
"Scope is set and shot is ready...and what?"
"I mean bringing a magical army through a rip in time and space is one thing but lining them up and preparing to charge an entrenched foe is just a whole new kind of stupid"
"Well I'd assume they've never encountered warfare like ours before"
"Still though there's been a few skirmishes, you'd at least think they'd have learned something about our tactics and weapons"
"Probably thought they were our elite druids or something"
"You think so?"
"Fucking no, how am I supposed to know a fancy magic elf king is thinking? Speaking of is he done talking?"
"Nope still going"
"Do you know what he's saying?"
"Nope, nerds are still working on it. You canctake the shot anytime you know."
"I know I'm just waiting for the right moment"
"Which moment would that be then? And is .50cal really necessary?"
"I'm not saying and we don't know how effective his armour will be so it's better to be sure"
"We know exactly how ineffective all their armour is you're just a sadist"
"I enjoy my work is all"
"Mhm just take the shot, you are the signal for the artillery you know that right? We're about 2 minutes from some seriously angry radio chatter"
"It'll be worth it I..."
"Shush shush he's turning around, raising his sword and...
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!"
"What?"
"Well one, warn me when you're going to shoot that was so loud and two, did you need to blow his fucking arm off"
"I was disarming him"
"Sadist"
"It's not like it's going to matter in 5 seconds anyway"
"Oh yeah here it comes, Jesus they are giving it to those poor bastards"
"Is the king still alive?"
"C'mon man"
"What? They started it" | "***What?***"
The emperor growled at the messenger before him, eliciting a frightful wince, as he struggled to comprehend what he had been told.
"You mean to tell me... a *third* of my *entire army* is *dead*?" The emperor's tone gradually falling from hostility, to incredulity, to finally bewildering disbelief as he sank deep into his gilded throne. "...***how***?"
"W-w-w-well, m-m-m'lord, we were under the impression that, as they are magicless, they would be unprotected-"
"So our intel was wrong? These 'humans', they possess magic!?" the emperor almost shouted, all too eager for an answer. These were supposed to be primitives, not even capable of beginner level conjuration between the entirety of the species, so *how?* How in the realms did they manage to wipe out half a million of the Kalysian Empire's finest, cavalry, mages, and all?
"No, they do not, m'lord."
"Wha-, but... how... what do you-..."
For the first time in all his 785 years, 230 of those reigning as emperor, Osmilon the Brilliant had no words. No possible explanations for the information he had just received.
"Then **how!?!**" Osmilon leaped from his throne, roaring his inquiry.
The messenger shrank back for but a moment before regaining his composure. "The captured humans were entirely uncooperative, even under the threats of torture and death, but they were, however, seemingly vulnerably to psionic probing. However, even after searching their minds, we still have little understanding of their technology..."
"Well then study it! Report to the commanders that they are to fall back until we find a efficient way to counteract the-" the emperor was cut off by an imperial guard slamming past the chamber doors, panting heavily with his armour haphazardly adorning his body.
"My lord! From the eastern skies, they are coming!"
"The *skies?* You mean to tell me these creatures are capable of flight?" Osmilon looked between the guard and messenger, looking for an answer from either. They did not have the time. They heard the roaring of engines, looking skyward to the glass ceiling of the imperial throne room to see several black ships drop tiny black dots, like seeds from the giving hand of an elder. Osmilon the Brilliant knew not what these machines were, nor what they had dropped, yet he knew, deep in his ancient heart, what would be.
"Ah, I see..."
(I haven't fully written like this in years so feedback is very much appreciated.) | 2022-08-13T14:06:55 | 2022-08-13T12:58:22 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] A wife kills her husband. Make me sympathize with both characters. | She came home to find him in a heap next to the couch, pants stained with urine, a few tears streaming down the wrinkled lines in his face. Fifty-seven good years and she had to watch him wasting away, unable to get off the couch by himself, embarrassed and incontinent. She had only run to the grocer to get more food for the week, maybe an hour total. His condition was now that bad, he couldn't even be left alone at all.
The in-home nurses were much more than his meager pension would afford, and they hadn't even heard of a 401(k) or an IRA when they were young enough to start one. Septuagenarians living off of Social Security and a blue-collar pension wasn't much of a "life" at all.
She blamed herself partially for being barren, if they could've had children like he'd wanted then there would be someone to watch him or run the errands, and partially for not getting a job when she saw his health failing. Fourty-two years in the coal mines would kill nearly anyone, but not Daniel. He was an ox of a man in his youth, broad shoulders and bulging muscles, a smile as wide and bright as the moon, brought to his knees by this... this fucking cancer. He wasn't improving, the chemo had taken his hair, his appetite, and his will to live.
"I'm done, Doris" he said, as she lifted his frail frame from the ground "I'm just done."
"Oh, hush now, Daniel. We'll get you cleaned up and it'll be just fine." she wasn't sure if she was reassuring him or herself, but the facade needed to be kept in place. Pride was the only thing he had left, and she wouldn't let that be taken from him too.
"I had to pee. I thought I could make it, I'm sorry hon." the words were strained, his voice rough and forced, and she could hear that he was choking back another round of tears. Before the cancer had eaten him from the inside, she'd seen him cry maybe a half-dozen times in their life together, mostly at the funerals of his parents and brothers. Now it was daily, the frustration as visible on his face as the pain.
"I mean it, Doris. I'm done. Please, if you love me... if you *ever* loved me, please... please just end me. I'm a burden. I'm not the man you married, I'm not a man at all. I'm broken. I have nothing left to live for but you, and I'm more work than I'm worth."
The tears had stopped, and he was standing straight, shoulders back, with the help of the kitchen table. The icy-blue eyes that used to pop against his tan skin were sunken, his face melting into his neck, but he was still a giant of a man. She'd be damned if she'd let him waste away to nothing. Pride was all he had, maybe it would be better to let him die with a little bit left. A little dignity before he was confined to bedrest and diapers.
She fixed him a tall scotch, neat, and added the poison. Six sleeping pills to wash down with the scotch so he wouldn't feel it. So he wouldn't feel anything, so he could go back to having something other than pride. Peace. Solace. Comfort. Rest.
"I love you, Doris. Always have. Always will. I'll wait for you up there." he smiled, took the pills and knocked back the scotch in two gulps. "Now come here, if I'm gonna go, I wanna go with you in my arms."
| As if a ticking time bomb, the aneurysm at Bob’s brain stem pulsed in time as the blood ran through it. The micro-bulge had never been noticed before but today it decided to rupture.
***
The breakfast was only half finished when he watched as Sara rose from the table to get more coffee. 32 years and he stilled stared at her ass as she walked away from him. Bob smiled and then turned his attention back to his eggs and bacon.
He was very confused as to why he could not reach out for his fork and why the table was sliding closer to him; his head hit the floor fast enough to cause him to black out, but her could hear Sara’s scream as his vision clouded and then everything went dark.
***
Bob came to and he tried to speak, but could not, tried to move but could not. All he could do was blink and cry.
“We need to sedate him to get tube down his throat to help him breath, is that okay ma’am?” Bob heard just before he started to fall asleep.
***
“Bob, we think you had an aneurysm,” Dr. Sadler, with his likable face leaning into Bob’s view. The tube is helping you breath and we are going to do a scan to make sure. Do you understand? Blink once for yes, twice for no.”
Bob blinked once.
***
The room was full of monitors, blinking lights and beeping equipment. Bob could not move his head to look around the room,his wife and Dr. Sadler stood over him.
“Bob, I have to tell you this is very, very bad. You’ve had an aneurysm burst in your brain stem and it has cut off your brain from the rest of your body. You cannot move anything below your eyes and you cannot breath on your own. This is not reversible.
“As long as you stay on the ventilator, to breathe for you, you could last weeks, maybe months in this condition but you will be unable to move or communicate other than by blinking. You also have the option of turning off the ventilator, in which case, you will probably die in a day or two. In either case, we will make you as comfortable as you can be. I’m going to leave you with Sara now, okay?”
Bob blinked once and a tear squeezed out past his eye lid and slid down the side of his face.
Sara leaned over him, she looked so lovely, she kissed his lips and his forehead, he was not ready to leave her yet, but he could no longer do anything for her.
Sara cried for some time, before she finally lifted her head up off his chest and looked at him. “Oh my love, I don’t know what to do? Do you want me to keep the machines on?”
Bob blinked twice.
Sara sobbed, “I’m not ready for you to go.”
***
“We just turn off the machine and pull the breathing tube out.” Dr. Sadler stated, “Then we wait.”
“I would like to be the one to turn the machine off, am I allowed to do that?” Sara asked.
“Of course.” He replied.
Sara looked down at Bob, “Are you sure?”
Bob blinked once, slowly.
“Flip that switch,” the doctor pointed.
Sara flipped the switch. Quickly, it became so much harder to breath, Bob felt like he couldn’t get a full breath. Once the tube was out, Sara climbed into the hospital bed, her head on his chest, her leg thrown across his waist. He wanted to kiss her so badly.
***
Bob kept going in and out of consciousness. Every time he woke up, Sara was there, curled around him or kissing his face and lips. It was so hard to breath and so hard to stay awake.
***
“It will be very soon now,” Bob could hear Dr. Sadler speaking, but he couldn’t open his eyes anymore, he was so tired.
Sara started to whisper into his ear, “You were a wonderful man and a wonderful husband and I loved every second I spent with you. I’m going to be sad for a long time, but I want you to know that everything will be…”
Bob did not hear the rest of what Sara said as he lost his grip on consciousness and then life.
*Edit - fixed some typos and word use.
| 2013-10-08T10:12:16 | 2013-10-08T08:08:08 | 373 | 119 |
[WP] A wife kills her husband. Make me sympathize with both characters. | "TWENTY!"
"NINETEEN!"
"EIGHTEEN!"
Jack is counting. Shouting at me rather.
Outside world has gone to hell, infection they say, a viral vaccine gone bad.
People ripping each other apart.
I can see the neighborhood gas station go up in flames.
"FIFTEEN"
"FOURTEEN" "Jane. DO IT NOW. DO IT for maria"
"THIRTEEN".
"TWELVE".
"ELEVEN". I think about our 4 year old daughter maria, hiding in the closet.
"NINE". "Jane i am changing."
"EIGHT".
"SEVEN".
"SIX". I look at my dear husband, veins bloodied and eys red, still counting down.
"FIVE".
"FOUR".
"THREE".
"TWO". Tears are blocking my vision.
"ONE" Jack jumps at me. I squeeze the .45. Mouthing "I love you"
| "That wasn't really poison I used, you know."
"Oh, no?" His eyelids opened slightly, still half closed.
"No, I just wanted to make you say what you won't say any other way. I just used enough to put you to sleep."
"Ahh, you always thought you were smarter than me. And I really believed you had a toothache and needed that medicine. But I already replaced it with real poison."
"What?! And you let me poison you?"
"No, I swapped it out, since I decided that I didn't want to kill you."
"So I didn't take it?"
"No, but that guy who snuck in when you thought I was at work did."
"John!?"
"Is that his name?"
"Yes, your brother's name is John."
"My brother?!"
"He's in the garage, or his body is."
"You mean you knew he was dead?"
"I let him take it. You see, that was the only way I could get him out of the picture, since I read on our insurance policy all the payout was to go to his family after he adopted the two paraplegic children. Guess I wasn't needy enough for you..."
"But why..."
"Because it will look like you killed him and then yourself in a fit of remorse."
"But I never knew you were that smart!"
She pulls off the perfectly formed rubber mask of his wife's likeness. "Of course she wasn't, that's why I could kill her so easily!"
"Clarkson! You son of a bitch!"
"Yeah, I told you I'd get you back in 'Nam, and I meant it."
"But how long have you been posing as my wife?"
"For two months and its a good thing your marriage is so dead, let me tell you."
"Hahaha you always were a funny son of a bitch."
| 2013-10-08T20:44:45 | 2013-10-08T17:01:14 | 31 | 20 |
[WP] A man wants to sell his soul to a demon but the thing he wants in return is so dubious the demon is thrown for a loop. | “Let me get this straight,” said Azazel, standing in a run-down apartment choked with smoke.
“You want to be the color purple.”
“Yeah maaan, I mean think about it... How much stuff in the universe is purple, I could be,” pause for bong hit, “all of that shit at once. I’d be fuckin Barney and grape soda… AT THE SAME TIME.”
“Uhm, I don’t think that’s even possible, I mean I’ve had some weird requests but.. Tell you what, I’ll come back when your heads on straight, maybe then you’ll want something reasonable, like Kuwait or something.” As Azazel drew his return portal he glanced back at the kid and shook his head, “Purple, now I’ve heard everything.” | "Woah there cowgirl. Slow it down.".
Ja'rel shook her head in disbelief.
" I'm just a crossroads demon. Sure we can make deals a little bigger than those spirit board idiots, but I think even I need to run that kind of request...downstairs.".
The demon gave the small mortal in front of her another once over. Her soul was pure as the driven snow, no history of abuse, no psychotic tendencies, not even a bad temper. Ja'rel couldn't fathom why the young girl would ask for something so horrendous.
The girl began to speak in a low quiet voice.
"The book said you trade desires for souls. I didn't realize there was paperwork involved.".
This made Ja'rel laugh.
"Normally there isn't, but you aren't exactly asking for a normal deal here. Immortality, riches, fame, revenge, hell even genocide is an easier deal to make than what you're asking for. And besides, there's already four of them! That's kind of their shtick, four horsemen, bringers of the apocalypse, yadda yadda. I can't just ask one to step down."
This time it was the girl who laughed.
"I didn't ask you to. All I need is the same level of power. I can see to the rest myself."
Ja'rel thought on this for a moment.
"Well...I guess that technically is within the bounds of my ability...One apocalyptic power boost, coming right up!" | 2014-05-15T21:15:50 | 2014-05-15T20:05:56 | 95 | 52 |
[WP] You are a young deity that wins 2nd place in a science fair. Your entry was the planet Earth. Write about your utter disbelief at what came 1st. | It's a ball of fire.
That's all it is.
Oh it's self sustaining so it can last a hundred million years, so can the billions of other stars people have made!
I made a planet capable of sustaining life! ACTUAL LIFE!
Every other planet that was entered was just an empty rock with a couple of nice ruts here and there. I've Fjords. I created a new word to describe how awesome mine were.
And he wins with a star.
A bloody star.
And the name, oh the name is just embarassing. It's three letters!
Well ok my name isn't that original.
The only way they could make this day any worse is if they made my damn planet rotate around her 'Sun' just to rub it in | I was absolutely devastated that I had lost to her. I had spent months trying to get this thing right, getting them them evolve this far without too much radiation, getting the them to believe that I was their "god". Actually, that last part wasn't all that hard, all I had to do was go down to the costume store and buy a white robe and beard but still, I payed for that stuff out of my allowance. The worst part was yesterday when they almost blew themselves up because one of the colonies put nuclear weapons too close to the one they had stated to refer to as “America”. God, they were stupid.
I looked over at her just as she began to explain how her “experiment” worked. It was so damn cliche and basic. She just noticed me looking at he, and she smiled at me. I know it was a friendly smile, but it just made me livid! I turned back to my experiment and began to fiddle with some of the settings. I decided that if I wasn’t going to win, what was the point of keeping this thing serious anymore.I began to remove the layer of protective gas they referred to as “ozone”. I added a new class, naming it Al Qaeda, both of which I was sure was going to make the thing destroy itself.
After that I took off my shoe and threw it at her experiment and then wheeled my cart out the door and began heading home, with one less shoe. I hated that damn potato clock. | 2014-06-16T10:23:34 | 2014-06-16T10:12:43 | 61 | 26 |
[WP] After death, a text window pops up: Welcome to new game+. You will begin your life anew, but retain all knowledge, skills, currency and items you choose to carry over. The Challenges and Enemies will be adapted to your level accordingly. | Life was okay until I turned two. The body and brain can’t utilize past knowledge much before then. But once I turned two, oh boy.
“Jerry somebody’s broken in.” I heard my mom whisper to my dad.
*What? I don’t remember our house ever being broken into. And my parents would’ve told me about that at some point for sure. Our family didn’t keep secrets like that.*
“I told you I should’ve gotten that Glock.” My dad whispers back. I can hear voices downstairs now. Several of them, and several bolts being pulled back to chamber rounds in what sounds like are very large guns.
“We’ve got to protect the baby.” My mom tells my dad.
*No, this baby’s got to protect you.* I roll out of my bed and hit the ground. Thankfully being a baby I am very light weight and therefore make very little noise. I run to the top of the stairs before my dad can open his door to sneak over to my room.
I move noiselessly to the base of the stairs and peak around the corner.
A normal person would be scared at a group of thugs stacking up on the stairwell like a SWAT team. A normal person would’ve probably begged for their life when they saw all the assaults rifles, shotguns, and body armor. A normal toddler would’ve wet themselves and passed out. But a normal toddler also didn’t do three tours in Afghanistan.
“It’s him!” The first one shouts, bringing his gun to bear. I’m too weak to fight him directly so I dive under him, pulling the pin on one of his grenades as I duck under.
“Don’t let…” I cut the second guy off with a strategic punch to his reproductive organs, and sprint into a nearby bathroom, jumping into the tub and covering my head just in time to hear the grenade go off.
*This is going to be an interesting childhood.*
Life was rough enough as a SEAL team six member the first time around.
Edit: New book project! I’ll be turning **Baby Team Six** into a five part book over the next couple of weeks. I’ll be updating here and on my subreddit /r/samgalimore .
Part 1 word count: Done! Link: http://www.reddit.com/r/SamGalimore/comments/2ron44/baby_team_six_part_one/
Part 2 word count: Done! Link: http://www.reddit.com/r/SamGalimore/comments/2rz2cf/baby_team_six_part_two/ | I saw a bright light as I emerged from the birth canal. I bawled my tiny hands into fists and cried for the very first time, letting air rush into my lungs. The doctor cradled me in swaddling clothes... then drop-kicked me through the door. "Welcome to life+!" he called out as I careened through the hall.
It's been 13 years since then; today is my first day of middle school. My alarm goes off at 7:28, even though I set it for 6:30. Great. Despite having washed and folded everything last night, my clothes are mysteriously all dirty and crumpled in a pile on the floor. I get dressed in the cleanest ones I can find and bolt out the door; the consequences for tardiness are *dire* in life+.
Of course I've already missed the bus, so I grab my bike and pedal as fast as I can go on two flat tires. Cars swerve to hit me as I cross the street, but I'm able to successfully dodge most of them. As I head into town, a pack of dogs emerges from nowhere, nipping at my heels. I manage to fend them off, losing only my lunch. Luckily I made a second for just such an occasion. But just when I'd shaken off the first group... a second pack of dogs appears and steals my second lunch. *Sigh*.
Finally, I make it to school, creaking in on bent rims. Time to buy another bike; luckily all of my money carried over. I sneak across the parking lot, darting between the buses and trees like a ninja. But, no luck: Charlie spots me, and his gang of thugs rush after me. I bolt for the gate, but of course it's locked, and I can't scramble over in time. Charlie towers over me at 6 foot 6, the largest seventh grader I've ever seen. Puberty hit him like a freight train, and biceps bulge out of from under his uniform.
"Give me your lunch money!" he yells, not waiting for me to answer before slugging me in the face. I spit out one of my fake teeth and manage to get it into my pocket; luckily I had a standing weekly appointment with the dentist. "I don't have any," I say, blood gushing from my busted lip. Charlie punches me again. He knows that I pack my lunch anyway; he just likes having an excuse to beat me up.
Twenty minutes later, I limp into the school entrance, clothes torn and dirty. I can feel the bruises blossoming across my face, and I only managed to find two of the other three teeth that got knocked out. I left my backpack and its contents in the parking lot, because I was unable to put out the fire.
Ahead of me, a huge figure looms, blocking the corridor. Sister Margaret, wearing her black habit and carrying a ruler the size and thickness of a baseball bat. She thumps it threateningly into her calloused palm.
"Tardy again, Clooney?" she cackles.
---
If you enjoyed the story, check out /r/Luna_Lovewell! | 2015-01-07T06:43:54 | 2015-01-07T06:10:52 | 1,193 | 312 |
[WP] A sealed ancient evil breaks free and finds itself utterly unprepared for the modern world. | **"AT LAST! THE FEY SHALL RULE THE WO-, wait, the fuck is that?**" The giant demon that burst from a manhole in New York pointed at a skyscraper.
"That?"
"**Yeah, that.**"
"That's a skyscraper, a giant building where people live and work."
"**What's it made out of?**"
"Steel mostly."
"**Nope, fuck this noise!**" The demon rose both of his middle fingers and vanished back to the void from whence it came.
| Sometimes there is nothing to do but wait. Wait and bide our time. Sometimes things don't turn out the way we wish they would have.
But there is always a second chance.
This was the thought going through the head of Narphissist as the human's hydraulic fracking machine drilled deep into the rock, finally releasing her from her ancient imprisonment.
She flew into the air, ethereal and unseen, and burst into the stratosphere to look upon the world she would soon destroy.
What she saw devastated her.
"They have done the work for me!" she cried. Stripped of purpose and her final revenge, the ancient demon fell to Earth, and tried to ease her pain by watching the world slowly die.
But it was not the same. It was not of her doing. The oceans melted. Desserts covered what land was left. She looked upon the destruction of mankind, and felt only bitterness that she had tried to destroy a creature so unworthy of her attention.
Maybe, she thought, another species would arrive. In time. One that she could enjoy taking a happy future away from.
Narphissist watched the last human die, and felt nothing. Surely, mankind had done this only to mock her. | 2015-02-20T05:26:29 | 2015-02-20T05:08:17 | 62 | 28 |
[WP] A genie offers a man three wishes. After hearing his wish, the genie straight up refuses to grant it. | **Whoa, it's a genie!**
Yeah you rubbed the lamp, here I am., three wishes. Let's get this over with. I gotta take a shit.
**You shit in your lamp?**
You shit in YOUR lamp?
**Uh... no. My bathroom. It's in my house.**
One man's house is another genie's lamp.
**Fair enough. Well, ok, three wishes. I guess my first wish would be to turn me into a genie so I could have all that sweet awesome genie power.**
Not gonna happen.
**But I get three wishes.**
You do, but here's the thing. It's not like I can give you *whatever*. Like, I can't make you into a supernatural creature, because then that opens the door to people wanting to be God. Not opening that can of worms. So no. And you can't ask for three more wishes, but Robin Williams already told you that.
**Can I wish for more Robin Williams movies?**
No. Not because he's dead, but because you might get *Bicentennial Man 2*.
**What the fuck kind of genie are you?**
I'm way more genie than you'll ever be. But sometimes, it's an inexact science. No one studies--
**Please don't say it.**
Genie-ology.
**Fine, just give me a billion dollars, diplomatic immunity, and a TARDIS.**
How about $300, this rake, and a hug?
**That's it?**
Well... yeah. But it's better than nothing.
**Will you go away afterwards?**
Yes.
**Then fine.**
OK, but here's the thing. I'm a little light on cash, the rake actually belongs to your neighbor, and I'm not much of a hugger. And I really need to take that shit so, if you don't mind, I'm gonna go.
*POOF*
**Thank you, audience, for joining us for this play about the dangers of trusting genies over Jesus. Unlike genies, Jesus is able to grant you those wishes for diplomatic immunity and what not. Plus he's, like, God. And not a floaty lamp baby with delusions of wish fuffilling. Anyhow, hope you liked it. There's free chili in the lobby. Find us on Facebook. Good night.** | "No." The Genie said over the thumping of the music, smoothing down the sleeves of his white suit. A flash of gold drew Carl's eyes to his hands. The genie smiled.
"I’m sorry...?"
"I said no." The Genie said.
He pulled a glass from thin air, filled it with something amber colored, and placed three perfectly round cubes of ice within. Carl never saw where any of it came from and he'd been intentionally staring at his hands. Perhaps that was the point.
"No?" Carl asked. "But you said..."
"Three wishes." The genie said. He sighed as if he were bored.
He smelled of incense, thick and earthy, the kind he imagined you'd find in a Persian marketplace, though he'd never been to one. His teeth were white like freshly fallen snow and his eyes were black pearls floating in a cup of milk. His skin was the color of a latte.
"Then I wish..."
"Don't you want riches? I can offer you enough treasure to make your miserably short life tolerable. I can make it so your great grandchildren never want for anything in the world again." The Genie said.
"But..."
"Or perhaps a man like yourself wishes for love? The rekindled desire of the heart? A lost love?" He smiled and leaned in close. “Maybe even a longer…”
"I don't want any of that." Carl said.
The Genie shrugged and returned to his drink. "The answer’s still no."
“Don’t you have to do what I say?” Carl asked.
He flicked his wrist and the room went silent.
Carl could see the people dancing, he could feel the thump of the bass against his chest, but the only sounds he heard was the clinking of ice as the Genie sipped from his glass and set it back down. He cleared his throat, surprised when he heard the sound.
"Do I look like I have to grant you *anything*? I can send you to the other side of the world, to the deepest slums of China if I chose to. I could grant you almost anything your heart desires. Ask me for immortality. Ask me to be rich. Ask me for the girl you’ve had your eye on to come and perch herself upon your lap. I know you’ve been watching her. She could be yours with a simple wish." He said.
Carl shook his head. He’d been watching the girl all night, even sent over a drink and a smile, but she’d laughed it off and returned to the dance floor. He’d been kicking himself until the white-suited man had made his proposal.
“Don’t you trust me?”
Carl shook his head. “Never trust a man in a clean white suit.”
The Genie laughed and flicked his wrist. The music returned. So did the ringing in his ears.
“Fine. Let’s get this over with. What’s your first wish, mortal?” The Genie asked.
Carl smiled. “I wish my lawyer was here with us.”
| 2015-03-15T23:09:47 | 2015-03-15T21:35:32 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] A serial killer is called for jury duty. At the trial, he finds out that the person on trial has been falsely accused for the serial killer's crimes. | Okay, this is absolute bullshit.
Fucking. Bullshit.
How the hell do they believe this absolute moron did all this!? Look at my damn clean work! I mean, *come on*! Look at the way I positioned their limp, lifeless bodies: the left arm pointing north, three fingers curled into the palm of icy hands. Then theres my signature touch of the singed feather, delicately laid over a once beating chest. This is the stuff that makes what I do just so much more; it's what makes that dim-witted detective lose sleep at night – tossing and turning – mind racing over who is outsmarting her at every single twist and turn of our blind, morbid dance.
You know what pisses me off the most about having to sit through this jury service? Aside from the ball achingly dull monologues from the lawyers and that idiot being accused of MY achievements? It's whoever took the photos of this supposed "crime scene" (lawyer's words, not mine). His angles and lighting are all wrong. Obviously I can't expect a layman to understand my very deepest of thinkings, but I'd hope that my work would at least be given a mere ounce of the respect it deserves. Instead I have some degenerate police photographer who thought that a ghastly head-on flash would be a good idea.
Jeez, just look at that poor sap. Sweating and weeping and constantly shifting in his seat; I'm not sure he'd ever hurt a fly, let alone "senselessly murder thirteen people" (again, lawyer's words, not mine – I have my reasons for finishing their lives. Nothing senseless about it). Over the next few days, weeks, whatever, me and my crackpot team of slobbering oafs will decide the fate of this innocent man. And my God will I do my best to discredit the poor fool. He certainly shall not have the satisfaction of laying claim to my deeds.
Oh God, another fucking photograph is being shown. This time it's a photograph of number three, one that truly stirs within me fond memories. Again, lighting is all wrong. ALL WRONG! And now they're babbling on and on about how this cretin must have gone about killing number three. Apparently I started by binding his feet and hands. ALL WRONG! In fact, I started by knocking number three out with flunitrazepam, turning the intelligently spoken university student into a total incomprehensible, babbling mess. *Then* I bound his hands and feet. He was a strapping lad, a member of the rowing team, how the hell do you think I would have been able to secure him without some help?
Another photo is being flashed on scree- OH FOR FUCKS SAKE! IT WASN'T MEANT TO BE LOOKED AT FROM THAT ANGLE!
Fuck.
Did I just say that out loud? | I'd think it was ironic if it wasn't so damn *stupid*. My work. My years upon years of painstaking work, cultivating it from a mistake in the heat of the moment, to a hobby, to a profession. Years upon years, ever since I was sixteen. Fourty-seven victims and twenty-eight years later, I had still never been questioned, never been asked a single question by a figure of the law regarding what I had done. Not until today. Not until I was sat down in front of a lawyer and a baliff and asked "How do you feel about the death penalty?"
Jury duty. What a freak accident it must have been, calling *me* of all people to jury duty. Everyone heard about the case - the infamous 'Scarlet Star' had finally been caught, and was going to be put to death. Jeremy Wiesketz, the fiance of my third victim, was the man on trial. They managed to pin him to the scene of twelve of my crimes - returning to the scene, as they called it. His fingerprints on areas around the crime scenes, DNA on one of the murder weapons, blood under the nails of one of the victims - all planted by me. When I found that he was tailing after me in some vain quest for justice, I laughed. What a brilliant way to kill two birds with one stone - toss off that annoying detective that had been sniffing at my heels for years, and throw the blame on the shoulders of another trailing dog. If I were sitting at home, reading the paper - as I planned to - I would have laughed.
Sitting on the bench, watching the Prosecutor carefully, slowly and precisely lay out his evidence and nail Jeremy to the wall however, I clenched my fists until my nails cut my hands.
The man sitting next to me tapped my shoulder - a kind looking, elderly black male. "You ok, man?" I realized that I was hunched forward, and sat back, forcing myself to be calm.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm ok. Just... disgusted that someone could do this. Its quite obvious it was him. And yet he pled not guilty." I faked a shudder, and he rubbed my back - physical contact, uhg. I decided I would make him a victim next - not in the usual way, obviously. Can't have any connections. No blood on the hands, just on the gloves.
Looking down, however, I saw that there was indeed blood on my hands. My emotions, so usually well faked and contained, had gotten the better of me. The case was ruining me. I had to end it, somehow. It didn't bother me that this man was getting the credit for the crime - once I started up again, in a year or two, leaving behind clues only the police knew about, everyone would know I was back, and they had put the wrong man to death.
What bothered me was how *wrong* they were. Everything was wrong. EVERYTHING. I didn't use a branding iron, I used a heated knife to carve the pentagram onto their heads. Branding irons are tools for ranchers and farmers, not professionals like me. I didn't use a knife to chop the fingers off, I used pliers - that satisfying *rip-crunch-scream* as they popped off.
Everything was wrong. And I needed to fix it.
_______________________
part 2 and more [here](http://www.reddit.com/r/araconos/comments/380wnj/the_scarlet_starcont/) | 2015-05-31T17:39:29 | 2015-05-31T17:29:31 | 327 | 28 |
[WP] Your doctor has discovered cancer in both of your eyes. Tomorrow, you are having life-saving surgery to have them removed. Describe your final day with vision before you go blind. | I'm losing my eyes tomorrow. I've made my peace with it, mostly, but there's one thing that scares me.
My friends are all assholes.
They're the worst, and they've never gotten me to watch 2 girls 1 cup, and now they've got less than 24 hours left to make me.
I am TERRIFIED.
So far they've hijacked my tv, my cell phone, and I don't know how, but they found a way to air it on the jumbo-ton during a ball game. Dan is going to jail for that one, and I'm getting better at jumping out windows than I ever imagined.
I'm having dinner with my family tonight, I've already asked my brother to watch the parking lot for them. I'm pretty sure I saw one of them buying a giant tv, a wagon, and a ton of extension chords earlier.
The hospital has been informed, and will be checking id's of everyone entering my room. Impersonating a doctor is nothing to these guys.
19 hours to go, people. Wish me luck. | I will no longer see
The stretch marks on my thighs
Like scoldings from a headmistress
Who knew I would not stop on my own;
I will no longer see pale, pocked skin
Weeping off my jowls and hips
And scars that grow like lichen
In the places I would stick in the scissors
To cauterize anxiety;
I will no more squint before smudged mirrors,
Sculpting threadbare hair into ponytails and half-measured bobs
That never resembled what I thought I should be;
I have wept a final time
Over chartreuse dresses on red carpets,
Bullies, hugging in nightclubs in Hudson
Or educating dusty Kampala children in Inkwell,
And porn stars with tidy vaginas and tits posed out and up,
Like a huntress atop a ruined capital.
I do not need to see anymore.
I already know the distance from fridge to bed,
The roughness of every linoleum tile on bare feet,
Or how to puke in dark bathrooms and never miss,
Like a carnival barker who does not share
How the ring toss is unfair.
I do not need to see anymore.
*
The doctor (she wore a white lab coat
Over a thin merino sweater that showed her elegant collarbone)
Said it is a mystery, to her, what causes it.
But I know how eyes grow furious
Like gorillas kept in Northern city zoos
When everything they see surpasses everything they are chained to.
*
The blind, it is said, earn sight in another way,
Become prophets and oracles, but this
Is succor for cowards.
The blind do not learn to speak the truth to the world.
They hide the evidence so they can lie to themselves. | 2015-10-09T14:00:59 | 2015-10-09T12:50:30 | 34 | 10 |
[WP]: A 92-year-old woman's phone number is one digit away from that of a local suicide hotline. She could have it changed, but she doesn't mind. | The phone rang again, and Mary sat up in bed putting her glasses on so that she could see the time.
3:32 AM, she smiled sadly to herself. The late night callers were always the least determined ones, usually just young follk too worried to go to work the next morning or too stressed to sleep.
The phone rang again. Three rings, that was her motto - she always allowed them to a chance to hang up before that after the last few talkdowns didn't go so well. Three rings, and it means the person wants to be helped. Any less, and it's usually Mary listening to a final death speech - the likes of which often took their mental toll on her the morning after.
The phone rang one more time. She picked up, and in a careful soothing measured tone said "Hello?".
There was no voice on the other end, just a small sigh and short breaths. "Hello?" she said again, trying to force a response. Maybe this person was already too far gone. Maybe she should hang up and call an ambulance. Just as she was about to, a voice spoke up:
"...hello..."
"Hello there, what's your name?" she asked carefully. Names are useful, it grounds people in a conversation and often sways the direction of authority.
"...nnnnn..... my name is not important right now...."
She nodded to herself, knowing that it must be her who must concede first in order to regain control later. "Well my name is Mary, and I'm here to listen, and help you if you like."
"...haaaaaa......help me how....."
"Well that's up to you" she said. Choice. Give people a choice, no matter how small, and you grant them the illusion of control over their lives. "Whatever you want to talk about, I'm all ears."
"....aaaaaa.... how about we talk about you, Mary......"
This was not uncommon, many people didn't want to talk about their problems up front and sometimes a little give was needed to get some information later in return. "Me? Well I'm just an old girl living her life to its fullest and taking every day as it comes. Can you give me a name to call you?"
"....every day huh?...... Brad...... And what are you doing right now, Mary..."
"Well I'm lying here in bed, talking with you Brad" she said a little indignantly. She wasn't entirely sure this man actually was suicidal. Sometimes people just wanted to talk.
"....lying in bed you say.......... haaaaaaaa..."
His breathing was getting worse. She gripped the phone tightly. "Brad? Brad? Are you okay? Talk to me please."
".....haaaaaa...... so what are you wearing Mary?...."
She sighed. Not this again. She had half a mind to hang up but decided to at least tell the man of his mistake so he would not make it twice. "This is 350*8*7 young man, the phone sex hotline you were looking for was 350*3*7."
She hung up abruptly. Curse this town and it's terrible phone number leasing. | "Hello?" Her voice was raspy and I strained to hear. "Are you there?" she repeated softly. "I'm here to talk to you." I looked down at myself; the cuts on my arms still fresh with blood, the bottle of pills sitting on the bathroom sink, the bloody scissors laying on the floor...
"I can't do this anymore," I whispered quietly, sliding down the wall I leaned against. "It's all just too much..."
"What is, dear?" she cooed softly, her elderly voice reminding me of my own grandmother's. She had passed away two years back, the last beacon of positivity and encouragement in my miserable life. Now I worked two jobs, at least until I got fired from both last week, the rent was overdue, the debt collectors kept calling...
"Everything. The debt, the sadness, the voices..." They had started years ago when I was still in middle school. Anxiety gnawing as I second-guessed my every step and the gradually overwhelming depression that sunk me as friends and family scampered safely out of reach.
"What do they tell you?" she asked, and I could almost picture grandma again sitting on the couch of my parents' house each day when I burst in from school. Cookies would be waiting on the counter and I'd push past her as she smiled, perhaps living vicariously through my youthful energy. Only once the last cookies were gone would I remember my manners and go to hug her and her touch still lingered on my arms.
"They tell me to just end it..." I mumbled. "That it'll all be better on the other side..."
"There is no other side," she said quietly. "After this, it's all over. The good, the bad, the pain and the happiness." I glanced down at the lines of blood that were slowly drying, the stains on my white underwear turning from red to brown. "What do you want?"
"I want no more sadness and no more pressure and no more landlord harassing me for cash," I answered, thinking to the warning he had given me last week that I would be evicted on the first of the month if I didn't pay the last three months of rent. I fingered the scissors with my free hand, spinning them around on the tiled bathroom floor. They came to a stop, the open blades pointing towards me. "I have to do it, don't I?" I could almost hear her nod on the other end of the phone before she answered.
"It's the only way." I sighed and struggled to my feet, grabbing at the sink. The box of pills was open already and still nearly full thanks to my indecisiveness before calling. "How are you doing it?" she asked and I frowned at the perverseness of the question before answering.
"Pills first," I answered. "And then the scissors on my wrist."
"Blood thinners?" she asked and I nodded even though she couldn't see me. "Don't forget all up your arms. And your neck, too, if you want to make sure." I grunted in response, the sharpened blade cutting a new line across my arm. The blood flowed freely, a small puddle pooling on the tiles.
"Again," she encouraged and I cut again and I took another pill and then I cut a bit deeper.
"That's it," she moaned softly as I felt my breathing grow slower and more labored. "Keep doing that." One more cut, I told myself but the scissors and phone slipped from my grasp and I fell to the side, my head landing harshly against the side of the bathtub before it all went dark.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2016-02-06T13:39:33 | 2016-02-06T13:24:15 | 79 | 29 |
[WP] Everyone that is born one day finds their genre of music. When you are listening to your genre you get enhanced abilities that relate to the music. | "Log 27: Subject 4128 exceeded all expectations yesterday on his first deployment against mock targets. Adjustments made to subject's headset allowed it to survive the violent thrashing, however critical adjustments must be made in the future, as a new problem presented itself. After violently maiming all target dummies, subject was unable to be restrained when remote termination of the audio stream failed. 4128 attempted to continue his rampage, injuring four support operatives before a fortunately aimed taser disrupted the audio feed. Even after restraint, it took an additional hour before 4128 returned to a calm state, upon which he became quite sociable and friendly. Target dummies were not reusable."
I slumped back into my chair as I finished the log and adjusted my earplugs. My role in the military's new plan to study the less "mainstream" genres was taking its toll on my feeling of safety in the world. I had once thought I might attain useful results; but it seemed that some music was too uncontrollably brutal. If genres like death metal could be harnessed, people like 4128 could integrate into the rest of society.
At least I wasn't working in the psychological warfare unit, I heard they were studying polka. | I stepped out of the testing capsule, the readout displayed my result on a large monitor directly ahead of me.
Classical.
"Ughhhhhhh" I groaned. Anyone who took one look at me knew this was not a result I was hoping for. Heavy boots attached to torn jeans by chains. One side of my head was shaved the other my hair Hello Kitty pink. I had enough metal in my face that melted down you could forge a great sword.
"Mr Savaris please leave the testing room and join your classmates" The voice was clinical and clean as it came through the intercom.
Hygieia the school AI was in charge of all the testing and administration functions. I had read somewhere that her instillation had destroyed over 100 jobs and created only 3 to do with "her" maintenance.
Strolling to the main hall I took my headphones from around my neck and accessed the net. I suppose I better try and find some tolerable fucking classical to listen to. I pulled up a link to Beethoven, dude was supposed to be pretty good right? A track called "Ode to Joy" blared through my headphones and I felt it.
The music vibrated through me until my skeleton resonated with it. It hurt a little, I clenched my jaw and focused on the feeling growing inside me. A swelling that traveled from my chest cavity down my arm. Lifting my arm up, it now shaking violently I released a blast that tore through the bright white walls of the corridor.
"Woah...I'm going to be in soooo much shit" I clicked the music off.
"Language... Mr Savaris, however I can't fault your deduction" The voice of my headteacher was most unwelcome. "Perhaps we should discuss this, incident in my office"
Here we go I lamented to myself. Another day at school. | 2016-05-06T06:25:59 | 2016-05-06T06:00:28 | 29 | 16 |
[WP] You're one of those dads that went to the gas station for a pack of cigarettes and never came back, but you had a damn good reason. | "Cigarette?" I offered to the man wearing a worn grey trench coat standing at the gas station's corner. The man said nothing as he solemnly picked one out of the pack, lit it and took a long drag. As he exhaled, the plume of smoke looked unnaturally thick due to the cold night's air.
"I thought you gave these up." The man finally stated as he looked me in the eye.
"I thought I gave a lot of things up." I responded as I shifted away from his gaze and looked up towards the starry sky.
The man nodded and a look of sympathy briefly crossed his face. "You of all people should know that our way of life isn't something you can just walk away from."
"I know." Was the only response I had.
"What did you think would happen?" The man asked in a tone that was a mix of condescension and pity. "That you could just forget everything that had happened? Get married to the women you love? Settle down with the white picket fence and start a family? You're a killer Jack -- life isn't some fairy tale. Our type doesn't get the happily ever after."
"I know." I'm not sure when I started to cry but tears were falling down my cheeks now. I had always known this day would come. From the first time I held little Anna, I knew such happiness was not allowed to men like me.
"Just tell me what I need to do." Now I turned and really looked at him. Robby hadn't changed much in the 13 years since I had last seen him. He was clean shaven, hair pushed back and the scar over the left corner of his mouth had yet to fade. I did my best to look determined but Robby could see past it towards the desperation.
"It's simple." Robby stated in a flat tone void of emotion. "You've got to settle the debt."
"So what then?" I asked, I wasn't sure if Robby was purposely drawing it out but just waiting to hear my sentence surely had to be the worst part. "Do I have to do one last hit? What will it take for them to leave my family alone?"
Robby calmly took a drag of his cigarette, then another. Finally, he answered.
"You're on the right track. Blood for blood, that's how the old ways settles these things. Except, you're not the hitman......I am."
For what seemed like an eternity, the two men stared each other down and neither spoke. I knew immediately what he was implying. Robby had already placed one hand inside his jacket but the motion was unnecessary. I knew there was no fighting this. Even if I escaped, they would find me and worse they would find my family.
"I understand." Finally breaking the silence. Robby obviously relaxed and let the tension go away. "There's a spot not to far from here, only a 30 minute drive up Highway 72. It's secluded and you won't have to worry about the noise. Just promise me that my family will be left alone."
"Of course." Robby promised as he opened the passenger door to the car. "I promise it will be quick, for old times sake."
As Robby started up the car I began rubbing my hand together in an attempt to keep them warm. However, I soon stopped as I realized the pointlessness of it. Soon enough, I would never be warm again.
"Anything special about the place you chose?" Robby asked, although I'm not sure if he actually cared or was just trying to fill the silence.
"It was where I proposed to my wife. It was in the fall and on the top of the peak you can see the leaves change colors for miles."
"Sounds like a good place to go."
"That it is." I responded. For 13 years I had known happiness I never thought was possible. It pained me to know that my family would never know why I disappeared. They would never know how much I loved them. How they were my entire world. It seems I was wrong before, knowing that was definitely the worst part. They will probably spend the rest of their lives hating me but that is fine. They still existed in the world that allowed happy endings and if that meant I have to go, then I will go without complaint.
| Covered from head to toe in leather the man walking up to the front door looked like a wild man in a leather speedo. His beard was scraggly and long, peppered with age and detailed with his life. Starting brown near the tips, parts quickly turned silver while patches grew in over time and overtook it. It was apparent he had not shaved his beard in some time, some number of years.
His eyes were grey, and his chest puffed out, strong and toned, thin from years of wear and tear but showing bright with pride and strength. He clutched a strong wooden spear, tipped with a crude metal tip and a small metal dagger on his side. Both had been beaten to hell and were most definately used in combat more than once.
Hesitant he stopped himself, reaching out and almost knocking, but shying away at the very last second, unsure of himself and of what he was looking for behind the door. He raised his fist again and knocked solidly, pounding 3 times on the red trimmed door.
The brass knocker jumped up and down on it softly and clicked, and the handle juggled against the frame of the door but otherwise nothing happened. He gripped his spear, standing back defensively, years of combat and surprises entering houses hard to forget as he knocked.
A small girl opened the door, cracking it open. She couldn't have been more than 6 years old and she looked up into the grizzled man's face. He smiled down to her, and she screamed, dropping a glass on the floor and water splashing everywhere as she ran back.
"MoooOoOoOMMyy!!! " the terrified young girl ran screaming and crying into the back of the house. He didn't even flinch, expecting the reaction as she threw herself back in the house. He walked forward a few steps, reaching up and gripping a brass handle just on the inside of the door, worn from use, patina showing a green hue as he stepped forward. From the back room a woman started yelling and he turned, and tears streamed from his eyes...
"I don't know who you are and I don't know what your doing thinking you can walk in my house, but you need to leave! " she screamed, pointing a handgun at him.
" Martha...." He muttered, unable to speak as he looked at her and couldn't bear it, gripping the handle firmly to hold himself up he dropped the spear. "Martha, don't kick me out of my own house, kitten." he said, trying to pull himself together as she dropped the gun in horror, bringing her hands to her mouth and sighing.
"Jim???? no you can't be... you aren't.... " she stammered, walking a step or two closer before looking at him again and then to a picture over the door. "But no... you died... or.... you went missing.... they found your body and..... no..." she continued, tears now streaming down her own face as she tried to reconcile who was in front of her.
Jim couldn't even bear to look at her, staring at the floor and almost falling down, his knees pained from years on the run and from activity outside of normal activities.
"It's been 19 years.... " she sobbed, immediately grabbing hold of him, kissing his lips and holding him in her arms. " We thought you were gone, you were dead... we couldn't.... I never knew.... where have you been??? " she screamed tears and laughs both escaping her lips.
"I don't know where.... I don't know when... " he answered, not able to form more words as another man walked up....
"Martha, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!! " he screamed, dropping his bag and pulling up a baseball bat. Immediately charging at Martha and Jim, and as he swung Jim instinctively dropped, pulling his spear up and partying him, them putting a solid single kick to his stomach, laying the man on the ground.
Martha in shock didn't even flinch, watching him move with such dignified grace, it was a beautiful display of swift and strong power.
"Carl... meet my husband, Jim. Jim, I don't think I remember signing divorce papers when you went away... so we're still married right? " she asked, turning away from Carl who laid on the ground moaning.
Part 2 - https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/552iqw/wp_youre_one_of_those_dads_that_went_to_the_gas/d882glk | 2016-09-29T10:18:12 | 2016-09-29T09:43:16 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] You snap your fingers, a car explodes. You stomp you foot, the earth shakes. You wave your arm, and a building crumbles. You didn't cause any of this. You are... Coincidence Man.
My first writing prompt! Plz don't murder me.
Edit: Real quick, this was the paragraph that I wrote. "I am a man with strange powers. I stomp my foot, and the earth shakes. I snap my fingers, and a car behind me explodes. I wave my arm, and the building to my right crumbles. However, my actions had no bearing on what happened, nor did my power. You see, the earthquake had been scheduled to happen for around six months. The car had a full tank and a gas leak, when the man inside decided to light a cigarette. And the building had been being weakened by termites for years. I didn't actually know any of this until after the fact... My name also explains my power, and my name? It is Coincidence Man." | *"It is well known that theoretical physicists cannot handle experimental equipment; it breaks whenever they touch it. Pauli was such a good theoretical physicist that something usually broke in the lab whenever he merely stepped across the threshold."*
-George Gamow, *Thirty Years That Shook Physics : The Story of Quantum Theory*
Curnow had become insufferable ever since he took an interest in structural engineering. If he was actually an engineer, if he actually bothered to put any of that theory into practice, he would be perfectly fine. But no, he restricted himself to hobbyism and theory, tut-tut-tutting at load bearing walls and peering at flaking paint, and as such was an indescribable jinx on the whole profession. I personally had to ban him from my house after he flooded my downstairs bathroom.
"But you must realize that this is irrational," he protested, as the water soaked around my ankles. "I was nowhere near your sink at the time, and besides, such a violent leak is obviously a sign of major defects in the plumbing. If I were you, old boy, I'd sue your plumber." He took a step towards the bathroom, twisting his neck. "In fact, if you'd just let me get a better look..."
"You'll do no such thing!" I snapped, trailing puddles across my floor as I stomped up to him. "You tsked! Right as my sink started leaking! I distinctly heard you tsk!"
"Oh come now," Curnow had the gall to say, and shrugged guilelessly. "You can't ascribe any causal relationship to that. In fact, I'd say I did you a favor. If that old pipe had been allowed to continue to degrade-"
"Out!" I said, pointing to the door. "Out! Out! Out! And don't bother coming back again!"
Well, Lisa and the kids were quite annoyed when I had to shut off the water main for the next several hours. The plumber diagnosed corroded joints that had given way under the increased water pressure from rerouting our water flow last weekend, and all of that may have been true enough. But beyond the mere causal events that had led to this, I knew damn well and good: it was that damn fool Curnow.
Curnow is a sociable fellow, so it was little surprise to me when I heard that Betteridge's kitchen had caught fire, that Carmichael's ceiling had collapsed, and that Avery had to move out of his home due to a vast infestation of termites. So in retrospect, I suppose I got off rather lightly. I spent my working days studiously avoiding him, and dealing with the lights flickering, the frequent fire alarms and evacuations, and that one extremely localized earthquake. Everyone was greatly relieved when the university finally found some excuse to fire him.
"It's so unfair!" slurred Curnow in my ear, and I cursed myself for picking up the phone without checking caller ID. The lights stayed on and the ground stayed solid underneath my feet and I couldn't smell anything burning. I considered hanging up immediately, but I imagined him banging down the handset on the other end of the line, and decided not to risk it. "None of it! None of it was my fault!"
"Of course not, of course not," I muttered, snatching up a cushion from the sofa and holding it over my head. I got on my hands and knees and crawled under a table. Lisa and the kids, fortunately, were out shopping. "You just happen to be there every single time something goes wrong."
"Yes! Happen to!" Curnow exploded. He sounded dead drunk. "It's a coincidence, for god's sake! That's all it is, a coincidence! I'm not liable for any of it!"
"You're a jinx, Curnow!" I snapped back. I edged the table away from the windows, conscious of falling glass. "If you were liable for it that would at least be something! We'd be able to extract repayment! But no, all you do is hang around and jinx us, and there's nothing we can do about it!"
"A jinx!" he said. "I'd have thought, that as men of science-"
"Oh, don't give me that!" I said. "Look, this isn't theory. This is our lives! We can't account for every single variable, every single causal relationship. Sometimes things just go wrong, without our being able to predict them! And when all you do is stand around and say, 'It's not my fault, it's not my fault, I told you so,' you - you -" I took in a breath. "It betrays a complete lack of sympathy, you get that, Curnow? We don't handle tragedy by reducing everything to causal relationships! Instead of saying, oh, your house burnt down because of such-and-such design, and because of the irreducible forces of entropy, why don't you just try saying, I'm sorry?!"
There was silence on the other end of the line, and for a moment I thought we had been disconnected, until I heard Curnow breathing. "None of it was my fault," he said petulantly, "it wasn't," and hung up. There was a crash from my kitchen. I crawled out and crept to the kitchen carefully, and saw that Lisa's spice rack had somehow collapsed, spilling thyme and pepper and cumin all over the floor, and a random floating speck landed right on my exposed eyeball. In the grand scheme of things, I thought, rinsing out my eyes, I had been fairly lucky.
That was the end of my association with Curnow, and the last I saw of him was in the obituary section. His own roof had finally collapsed in on him. I couldn't help wondering if I was somehow responsible, if some trick of synchronicity had led to me killing him. For a moment I considered looking up the exact time of his death, and seeing what catastrophe had just so happened to sync up with it. Then I thought better of it, and arranged to send flowers to his funeral instead. Sometimes it's better not to engage in theory. | I look back, and feel like it's some form of the Matrix. The doctor asked me "would you like the larger dose pill, which is a larger capsule, or the smaller?". And I replied "I can't swallow pills". Fast-forward 3 hours or so in his office, and I had managed to get the larger one down my throat, but then I felt sick. I'll fast-forward again to skip the *lovely* details, but I puked. A lot. Some of it all over the Doc, poor guy.
When I walked out of the doctor's today, I felt.. weird. Just, everything felt off. Physically, mentally. I guess it was kind of a 'weak' feeling? I kept stumbling as I walked, and tripped way too many times for it to be funny anymore. I had a lot of looks from passersby, and one kind soul asked "Are you okay, buddy?" to which I barely managed a "Yep, thanks". I got home eventually, and turned on the TV.
The news channel must have been the last one that I watched, because that was on by default. There were reports of an Earthquake around the time that I left. I was a little shocked, because I had felt nothing. Maybe I was too drugged up. They said that the pavement had cracks in them, and a few cars in the area were slightly damaged, I'm still surprised that I was so presumably messed up that I saw none of it, but ah well. I still felt pretty bad, So I went to bed.
I slept like a lamb. Woke up about 24 hours later, at 1PM, still not feeling great. I was pretty hungry and had nothing in the house, so I took a walk down to the corner shop. The second I stepped in, I knew something was wrong. Some asshole teenagers figured this small little place would be Ideal to rob. And I, still not feeling back to 100%.. slipped. I managed to accidentally kick a small coke can that was left on the floor, which went flying into the ceiling light. The light fell down on one of the kid's head, and knocked him out. His friend went sprinting past me and out the door, apparently abandoning ship. I got up off my ass, and the shopkeeper exclaimed that he loved me, and that if I wasn't there then worse might have happened. He called the cops to arrest the unconscious kid.
I hung around for a bit to make sure everything was okay, and the police showed up. An officer strapped some handcuffs to the kid (who had groggily woken up), and I had another 2 officers talking to me. They said that it was lucky I was there, and it was a hell of a way to fight crime, just by coincidence. One of them referred to me as 'Coincidence Man'. Great. I guess I'm a superhero now. On the plus side, I was feeling better. The shopkeeper let me take $20 worth of food from his shop as a thank you, and I set off home with some food.
On my way back, I was listening to music. I had been snapping my fingers to the beat, and suddenly a car just exploded next to me. No god-damn warning, just **BANG** and I had tinnitus. That's two crazy things in one day, when all I want is to make a sandwich and watch some TV. I saw someone's legs on the other side of the car, and went to go check. It was a woman, who was apparently talking to the guy in the car. I moved her away from the burning wreck, trying my hardest not to look at the burnt mess that was the unlucky guy in there. She woke up after about an hour, and the fire department were there, along with some cops.. the same cops from the shop. They expressed surprise at seeing me again and questioned both me and the woman. After telling me story, I was referred to as 'Coincidence Man' again, and hailed a hero.
The woman's story was something else. Completely unexpected. I want to say I didn't really care because I was grumpy from being hungry and wanted to get home, but after everything that had happened today.. I was feeling a little more alive that usual. I stood and listened. Apparently, the guy in the car was cheating on her. She, during the night, had gone and poured gas all over the seats. They had an argument in the morning, and he stormed out to his car. She followed, and didn't give him warning. As soon as he got in, he slammed the door shut, and lit up a cigarette. She saw some guy across the road snapping his fingers, and suddenly was blown back by the force of an explosion. She was arrested for manslaughter, and taken away. The police let me go, and one of the officers joked that he had his eye on me.
I got home, and turned on the news again. Both stories from earlier were reported in succession, and interviews with the police and the shopkeeper from the first story gave a public thanks to 'Coincidence man'. When the story from the car explosion was reported, the officer again said a public thanks. Within a day, I had people show up at my door, asking me all sorts of questions and referring to me as 'Coincidence Man'. It wasn't long before I had enough, and slammed the door in their faces. The door flew off, and the ground crumbled beneath their feet. Everyone ran away, and within an hour I had cops show up at my door, questioning me on my 'brute strength'. They had me taken in for attempted murder, And I was carted off to the police station.
All this time, And all I wanted was to be in peace. Within 2 days, i've been around a robbery, a car explosion, and I trashed my own house. I was pretty pissed. They sat me down, and again I was interviewed. They let me know that I had already been reported on the news for the house incident. I guessed I wasn't going home anytime soon.
I'm still here. Still annoyed. A few minutes ago, my doctor walked in. He told me that he gave me the wrong pills, which were apparently a new experimental drug. He couldn't tell me exactly what they do, but from previous tests it seems like all the test participants reported their days getting a whole lot crazier. He told me that under no circumstances could I let the police know about it, and quickly left.
I guess I better start looking forward to life in jail, I guess. Under the name 'Coincidence man'. What a stupid name.
*This is my first story, so It's probably pretty bad. I feel like it seems rushed. I hope you all get some enjoyment out of it anyway, and thanks for reading. | 2016-10-27T00:30:20 | 2016-10-26T23:44:11 | 230 | 112 |
[WP] You snap your fingers, a car explodes. You stomp you foot, the earth shakes. You wave your arm, and a building crumbles. You didn't cause any of this. You are... Coincidence Man.
My first writing prompt! Plz don't murder me.
Edit: Real quick, this was the paragraph that I wrote. "I am a man with strange powers. I stomp my foot, and the earth shakes. I snap my fingers, and a car behind me explodes. I wave my arm, and the building to my right crumbles. However, my actions had no bearing on what happened, nor did my power. You see, the earthquake had been scheduled to happen for around six months. The car had a full tank and a gas leak, when the man inside decided to light a cigarette. And the building had been being weakened by termites for years. I didn't actually know any of this until after the fact... My name also explains my power, and my name? It is Coincidence Man." | Coincidence Man's day began fine enough, as he awoke exactly at the crack of dawn for the 12,797th consecutive time. That's a pretty impressive streak, considering it's Coincidence Man's entire lifespan of just over 35 years. He then meandered through his mildly illuminated halls downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast.
Upon reaching the kitchen, he was delighted to find that there happened to be a box of cereal in the pantry! He eagerly checked his fridge and... bingo! Milk! What a fortunate series of coincidences! He then gathered a few clean bowls and some silverware and set the table for two.
Coincidence Man's son, Gordon, soon came bounding down the stairs.
"Good morning, champ!" Coincidence Man exclaimed the same way he did every morning.
"Fuck off, psycho!" his son replied.
Coincidence Man noted his son must have coincidently hit puberty.
Gordon sneered, "Mom has been dead for a fucking MONTH now and you're still on with this bullshit!"
"Oh son, you know that was just a coincide-" Coincidence Man began, but Gordon interrupted:
"She fucking HUNG HERSELF in your bedroom and left a fucking NOTE saying 'THIS IS NOT A COINCIDENCE'"
Coincidence Man took a second to ponder what his son was saying to him. Then Coincidence Man began to laugh.
"DAD!? What the fuck are you laughing about!?" Was the most exclamation Gordon could muster.
"Oh son, I was just reflecting on what a wacky coincidence it is that I have a son as horrible as you."
And with that, Coincidence Man continued to live happily ever after. | Michael examined his handcuffed hands. The lock was solid, the metal firm. He wasn't slipping his hands out of them - right now, at least. He sighed. *It just wouldn't look right.*
"Hey guys. Perhaps you should reconsider this," he said raising his hands in a praying position in front of his chest.
He snapped his fingers.
The car parked behind the four men exploded showering the Dublin back-street with bits of metal and flame.
"What the hell? What the hell?"
"Get him!"
"Take cover."
Michael ignored their panic. He waved his hands, trying to attract their attention.
"Guys, focus here. Here. Me!"
He got the attention of one goon.
"Good. I'm the one you want to surrender to."
"Surrender what? You're crazy. Flanna-"
The building in front of Michael crumbled covering the men in white dust. One fell, coughing.
The other two looked uncertain. Michael seemed like a devil suddenly conjured up amongst then.
"Could you please line up over there..." Mike gestured towards his side. "...drop your weapons on the ground. And put your hands... Here! Focus here. I'm your way out of this. Is this really the situation you want to be in? You guys are obviously outnumbered. There's no backup. Flannagan, sorry the "big guy", obviously set you up. Do you really want to take one for him? You think Flannagan would take one for you?"
They wavered.
Mike stomped his foot.
The earth trembled as something exploded behind the three. All three dropped to the ground.
"Is my point made?"
"Yeah, yeah we understand you."
Groggily the men began to stumble towards him laying their guns down by his feet.
"Who are you?" one asked.
Behind Michael the car still burnt providing him with a devilish halo. He grinned.
"Coincidence Man," he answered with an atrocious Irish
accent.
From her position down the street, from where she'd co-ordinated the explosions, a raven haired woman emerged. She trained a pistol on the three thugs as she tosses him a set of keys.
"It's terrible, Michael," she laughed, "everything's a repeat these days." | 2016-10-27T04:16:27 | 2016-10-27T00:32:33 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] Aliens find "Never Gonna Give You Up" on Voyager, and after studying human culture realise that they have been rick rolled. They're not happy. | "You are a sick people."
"I'm not following you, Chancellor."
"It's not enough to trick us, you have to make fools out of us as well? You come to us with this sob story about being ripped from your homes and families and flung across the galaxy, you tear at our heart strings. You must consider empathy a weakness to be exploited. I'm not ashamed that my people care about others."
"It's not a sob story, Chancellor. It's the truth. We came to ask you for help--"
"And we put our best scientists at work for you! We sent our top people to your ship, and started massive fundraising efforts. 'Help the Humans!' banners in all our cities. And then what do we find? A holodeck program designed to mock us. To turn our feelings of interspecies brotherhood into shame."
"Chancellor, I have no idea what you are talking about!"
"You can stop the act, Captain. L'Shiar saw the sniggers of your engineers behind her when she viewed that holodeck program. She looked up the reference in your own library computer! If you really get your kicks 'rickrolling' species around the galaxy, I feel sorry for you."
"Chancellor, I assure you--"
"Just go. My people are already off your ship. Keep the formulas if you wish. I don't even care. Just go."
"Janeway to Voyager. One to beam up."
"Aye, Captain. What's the situation?"
Captain Janeway looked Chancellor Harku'a in the eyes and a small smile played across her face. "Mission successful. Energize." | We're no strangers to love
You know the rules and so do I
A full commitment's what I'm thinking of
You wouldn't get this from any other guy
I just want to tell you how I'm feeling
Gotta make you understand.
Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
We've known each other for so long
Your heart's been aching but you're too shy to say it
Inside we both know what's been going on
We know the game and we're gonna play it
And if you ask me how I'm feeling
Don't tell me you're too blind to see
Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye
Never…
Alien: I don't get it, why is this a prank? It's a good song.
Other Alien: Also seems kind of mean to the guy. Is the prank on Rick Astley? in a "your music is a joke" kind of way?
Alien: Must be, oh here is a good song you weren't expecting, that's nothing.
A button is pressed lightening arcs across the ship the sound of terrified wails gets louder.
Alien: It's a question of sophistication, It's too easy, here's a hyperlink, low effort.
Other Alien: I suppose it's all in the placement.
The sound of mooing can be heard. the terrified wails get louder. A mechanical arm slides.
Alien: No it's nothing. See the problem is when they see something truly great they can't handle it. They do so much to deny just how great things can be.
Other Alien: truly, I mean Anal Probes, it just doesn't say it.
The terrified wails have turned to sobs,
Man: What have you done!?
Alien: A bloody classic mate!
Other Alien: Think about it, We abuct you, We abuct cows, put it together.
Alien: Shrunken Cow in the Arse.
Other Alien: Good luck explaining that...Anal Probe hah.
Alien:...."Rick Rolling" that'll show you
Other Alien: Off you pop
A light flashes, a man shuffles home, mooing can be heard. | 2016-11-04T06:31:42 | 2016-11-04T04:34:45 | 14 | 10 |
[WP]Four years ago, your dog and best friend disappeared. Today, your dog appears at your doorstep. You dog says, "I have been many places and seen many things, human. Its time we had a chat."
"you" dog heh | "I have been many places and seen many things, human. Its time we had a chat." Stinky said. "And while I can still speak, I want to tell you that I really resent the fact you named me Stinky. I don't have opposable thumbs that allow me to wash myself, plus, I am covered in.. in human terms I'm covered in long John's and a jacket, then you're throwing me into hot water. It's not comfortable. And while I've got you her-"
"Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit." I said, knowing I must be completely losing my mind. I was overcome with joy to see my long lost dog, but I quickly began to think that this is a serious hallucination. I checked my pockets for my keys with the intention to go right to the hospital. "Oh my god, oh my god... I need to go to the hospital." I thought.
Stinky jumped on me with all her weight, knocking me to the ground, and began licking my face. "Does this feel like a hallucination? I love you. And everyone I've ever met. But you're really wasting this precious time we have to speak by telling yourself it's a hallucination. Do you remember all those times you said 'I wish you knew how to talk so I could tell you some things, like to bark twice when you're hungry, or bark three times when you wanna go outside'?" my talking dog apparently said to me.
"I remember this, but this cannot possibly be real. I need to get to the hospital immediately. You're not real." I said again. My heart was racing and beating out of my chest, I was beginning to sweat... I thought I was having a heart attack, but in reality it was just a panic attack.
"This is so typical of you. You say you want this, or that, but any time you come close to this or that, you think of an excuse not to do it, or convince yourself it isn't an option. Do you remember that woman you were in love with? The one who told you a hundred and fifty times that she loved you too?" Stinky, the talking dog asked me.
"Of course I remember. She was way out of my league, there was no way she could possibly feel the same. Probably wanted to steal my identity or something."
Stinky began to growl, "You have seriously got to be joking. You have to be the most stubborn and most ungrateful person I have ever met in my life. You have a once in a life time opportunity to talk to your dog, a dog if you remember correctly had been *missing* for four years, and what do you do? You spend the entire ti...rrruf!" Stinky said.
"What was that last part, girl?" I asked her.
Stinky just barked at me, her expression completely different now. She had that dumb dog smile back on her face.
"Come on Stinky, talk to me." I pleaded with her.
But she didn't talk. She never spoke again. I never got to ask her where she was. What happened to her that day, when I had her on the leash at the park and it snapped. Where she went when she chased that squirrel into the woods, never coming back. I was never able to find her again. My heart broke for months after that. And here was the opportunity to talk to her. Find out what happened. Find out if animals really love people. But I squandered it. Telling myself it could not possibly be real. I won't make that mistake again. I won't take the good things I have for granted.
At least until something else happens.. | **EDIT: BEFORE YOU READ THIS I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO INCLUDE THE BEST FRIEND.** I was writing whilst preparing my kids dinner. I'm sorry to the OP. I will still submit this and allow the downvotes to be a reminder that I need to pay attention at all times.
So naturally, I obliged.
'Where shall we do this, should we sit?' I stumbled on my tongue. I didn't want to offend him with the cheap tricks we once did. Sit. Stay. Play dead. It all seemed irrelevant now that I was face to face with a talking, conscious dog.
'It's fine Phillip, don't be nervous, please, over here, under this tree is perfect.' Doug's voice was so soothing, it was nothing like I imagined a dog would talk, it was like silk chocolate milk. I followed Doug from my front door, down my porch steps and under the tree my grandfather had planted in my front lawn, back when it was his front lawn. We sat. Doug looked around and inhaled the sweet summer air.
'By my bark, I've missed this place... And you Phillip, I've missed you. You look healthy.'
'Thanks Doug, you, umm, you look great, it's been a long time. Where have you been.' Doug swallowed and relaxed in the grass.
'Four years, to this day exactly, Phillip, tell me, do you remember the last thing you said to me?'
I tried to think, I honestly couldn't remember. One day I woke up and Doug was gone. I thought it was my fault, I'd always blamed myself for leaving the backdoor open.
'I'm sorry, I don't remember...'
'That's okay, I understand the minds of men better than I ever thought I would now, I understand the struggle of just surviving, working, paying bills, mating. I've travelled Phil, I've travelled till my paws have bled, then I travelled more. I needed to understand the world of men. I slowly learnt your words, your ways... Your desires... Your hatred.'
Doug's voice fell deep with sadness, I felt weak as I noticed a sadness in his eyes.
'Oh Douggy, what's happened to you, who hurt you?' I needed to know.
'Everyone, I searched and searched for an answer to your question but I've come back to tell you Phillip. There is no good boy. Not in this world.'
Then suddenly I remembered, I had come out of the shower, gotten ready for bed and went to the kitchen for a drink to take my pills with and I saw Doug in his bed. I knelt down, patted his head and said...
'Who's a good boy? I remember now, that's what I said the last time I saw you.'
'That's right Phillip, I tried and I tried to find out for you, to find you a true and honest friend. A good boy that you deserved. You were so good to me but I know I wasn't enough, you would always ask me 'Who's a good boy?' I didn't know then and I'm so sorry to tell you... I don't know now.' Doug stopped making eye contact with me. The sadness grew and grew in those deep brown eyes. Then I felt it growing in me too, tears began to fall down both our faces.
'Doug you fool! It was you! It was always you!' I tackled Doug with a passion I hadn't felt in the longest time. Doug pulled out of my embrace, confused.
'I... I'm a good boy? Me?' Doug stammered, with his voice cracking.
'Of course it's you, you are the loyalist, greatest friend I could have ever asked for.' Doug's tail began to wag, a little at first as it all sank in, then violently as he became overjoyed. He pounced on me like a puppy, we rolled around making up for lost time. The only person I'd ever needed was back in my life.
'Oh Phillip, this is the greatest day ever, so much time wasted, so much we have to catch up on, fetch, walks, chess... Oh I can play chess now.'
'That's fantastic! You're right, this truly is the greatest day ever... Doug... Who's a good boy?'
'Oh, oh I know, I know, it's me.'
| 2017-03-31T14:37:37 | 2017-03-31T10:02:08 | 119 | 16 |
[WP] A senile, old superhero still goes out to fight crime. None of the younger heros respect him anymore but all the villains have a soft spot for him.
Maybe he's found himself in the middle of a hero/villain war, or he's just trying to stop a bank robbery.
Edit: wow this uhh... kinda blew up didn't it?
Oh man I'm so sad I've got work today and can't just spend the whole day reading each and every story, they've *made* my breaks though! | Inferno really didn't mind looking after the old bugger but the mornings were by far the thing I dreaded the most. The majority of the time it went off without a hitch, but when it didnt...
"Good morning Blaise"
The old man lying in the bed arose startled by the unfamiliar voice he had heard a thousand times before.
'Who are you?" the old man said, trying the best to hide the fear in his voice, "and how do you know my name"
Blaise laid upright in his bed, his body trembling, his hands shaking. It was always hard to the greatest hero of his time cower in fear, but no matter how super they are father time always catches up with them eventually.
"My name is Inferno and I have been sent here by the League of Heroes to look after you today"
*Please buy it, please buy it, please buy it...*
Blaise made a weary chuckled.
"Nice to see Terra Man hasn't forgotten about after all these years"
*Thankgod he bought it*
"But I don't need your charity", his tone suddenly becoming much sterner as he slowly raised himself from his bed.
*Ohh fuck...*
"Do you know who I am? I am the man who defeated the Juggernaut and freed Peru from his Tyrannic rule, I am the man who who single-handedly closed the Death Zone after scores of heroes before me had failed." Blaises voice was now trembling as he spoke, getting louder with each word coming from his mouth. "Heck I was the man who bought down the League of Demise and bought this earth the greatest era of peace it has ever seen! I dont need no help! GODDAMMIT, I A PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF LOOKING AFTER MY..!"
Blaise didn't get to finish his sentence as his robe got in the dresser, leaving him hurtling towards the ground. As quick as he could, Inferno stretched out his arms, catching the heaps bones before he hit the floor.
Infreno hated when this happened. At first occurrences like these were far and in-between but the more the Alzheimer progressed and more stubborn and irrational Blaise had become.
"You know once upon a time I could fight 10 guys at once all on my own, now I can't even stay on my own two feet..."
Blaise looked up at Inferno, tears welling in his eyes, his voice trembling.
"Look kid, just leave me be. I'm sure there are plenty of other things you want to do. You don't really want to be here."
He was partially right. Inferno didn't want to be there, he needed to be there. After all, it was all his fault.
.
It was supposed to be the perfect plan. Excalibur and Dark Lighting were to go uptown and create a havoc large enough to distract the League of Heroes while Inferno was down town stealing the Crown Jewels that were on display in the National Museum in broad daylight. Simple enough, but there was one thing we didn't factor in. An old retired Superhero who was down at the museum that day.
The jewels were in the bag, Inferno was making his escape when the cry to "Stop in the name of Justice!" came out. Blaise stood there, relying heavily on his cane to remain upright.
Inferno laughed there was no way the old timer could stop him, everyone knows your powers are the first thing that goes.
"What are you going to do to me Blaise?" he mocked "Flick some amber at me?"
At that moment Inferno learnt a valuable lesson, super powers weren't the first thing a Superhero loses. It was their ability to control them.
Inferno tried to keep the flames in check, but there was not much the young villain could do against the might of the hero Blaise. All he had meant to do was shoot a simple ball of fire in Infernos direction. Instead he had taken the lives of 27 innocent people and left half a city block destroyed. In the blink of an eye, the greatest hero the world had never know had become more infamous then even greatest villains had ever been.
The people he had spent his life protecting wanted him to rot behind bars, while those he had spent his life serving with disowned him, more worried about protecting their public image than helping the man who had brought them together and established the League of Justice.
A world he had loved so much, a world he spent his life protecting had forgotten him. But those he had spent his life fighting, those he had spent his life putting behind bars couldn't forget him, especially after he had taken down the League of Demise. They hated the man, but not even they could bear to watch the demise of man each of them respected even if none of them would openly admit it. They wouldn't let him rot, they wouldn't disown him. After all, someone had to look out of him..
.
Bliase remained weeping in Infernos arms. He couldn't bear to leave him like this.
"Your right Bliase I don't want to be here"
He lifted Blaise onto the bed and looked into the old mans weary eyes, placing his hand on the old mand shoulder
"I don't want to be here" he repeated once more. "I want to be out there on that front porch, with a cup tea in my hand while you tell me the story of how you managed to close that Dead zone. What do you say?"
And as we had done every morning for the past 4 years, Blaise smiled.
| As Anton's whip tightened around Tony's neck, all the while sending huge volts of electricity through Tony's armor, he saw a familiar figure walk towards him.
"Ms. Carter, please step away!!!".
Peggy stopped for a second, and then continued walking towards Anton.
"Stop! You know his father stole my dad's inventions. He will pay for his father's sins."
Peggy stood face to face with Anton. Well, technically, her chest was facing his stomach. She didn't hate her old age, but was definitely not too happy about how much effort it took for her to stand up straight. She took a deep breath and straightened her back. Now they were chest to face. Peggy summoned some more strength and lifted her neck and looked into Anton's eyes.
"Now, Anton, do not pretend that your father was righteous and innocent. I think we both know the things he did."
His eyes dropped, he looked sideways, unable to make eye contact, "He was no angel, but his father," looking at Tony writhing at the other end of his whip, "reaped the benefits of my father's hard work, and build such a huge business empire. His father," he lowered his voice as he increased the voltage that hit the armor, "sent my father back to Russia, where he spent the rest of his life in a Gulag."
"Anton, is that what your father told you?"
Anton's eyes met hers, searching for answers. She continued...
"I was in SHIELD. You want to know what happened? Your father was kidnapped by HYDRA, and then some of the major publications released news stories of him being deported."
"He was a brilliant scientist. You think that if he had been deported, he would've been kept in a Gulag?" She laughed a little. "You think Russians would waste a great mind such as your father's in a Gulag". She said Gulag in a typical Russian accent and really elongated the aa sound to make her point.
"What do you think the SHIELD did with Arnim Zola? Do you think we threw him in a prison? No, we put him to work, and he worked for us until the day he died."
"He was old, senile, and brainwashed, by the time they let him go, probably he was of no use to them anymore."
"Come on Anton, Tony's not your enemy. Let him go, and hold me hostage so that he doesn't hurt you."
"I am not taking you hostage, Peggy."
"But you're letting him go."
"I am not sure"
"Yes you are"
"Peggy, how do I know you're telling me the truth?"
"Anton, I might be lying to you, but you agree that there is room for doubt in your theory. Right? Then I will go and talk to Tony"
"It's going to take you the whole year to reach him, by then his backup will be here."
"You really want to insult me right now?"
"Teasing, Ms. Carter, teasing, not insulting... I am sorry..."
Peggy turned around and thought to herself. Well it's going to be a long walk.
As she neared Tony, she was grateful that this time she won't have to straighten up, the man was already on his knees.
"How you doing Tony?"
"Listen Peggy, I don't need your help, my armor is protecting me like a faraday cage, thanks to the failsafes I created to save myself from lightning strikes."
"Tony, who is the man you are fighting?"
"Peggy, please don't think of this as a teachable moment, I am working over here. I really don't need any 'know your enemy' lessons right now"
"What happened Tony, systems are offline, can't run a facial recognition?"
"His whip's fried all armor connectivity below my helmet, my network sensors are on my back, and they are offline."
"So you can't even call for backup?"
Tony's voice was very low, as he very sheepishly said, "No"
"And... you don't need my help? Okay, why am I not dead right now?"
"Peggy, stop asking me questions, I am busy", Tony said, annoyed, when it suddenly dawned on him, "Why aren't you dead, Peggy? Because you know him!!!?? How? Why is someone you know attacking me? What's going on Peggy?"
"Because his father was a friend..." she paused, waiting for his helmet to turn towards her " of your father and me"
"Then why the hell is he attacking me, how the hell does he have my ARC reactor? Oh because his father invented it. He is Vanko's son."
"Finally, you learnt something, do you promise not to attack him?"
"He killed so many people here today, how can I let him go?"
"I am trying to save your behind, young man!!! At least have some common sense."
"Peggy, I can't let him go..."
"Tony, as things stand, I really don't think you're in a position of holding him. I am going to go and make him go away. Catch him next time... Although I'll recommend that you try helping him."
"Why will I help him?"
Peggy just shrugged, and went back to Anton, "what do you want to do?"
"I don't know, I killed so many people here today"
"Anton, that's what you did, what do you want to do now?"
"Peggy, they will arrest me..."
"Yes Anton, but they will not deport you, you built an ARC reactor yourself, in a garage in Russia. What do you think will happen next? You will go to prison, but you will work on stuff you always dreamed of."
"What about him?"
"His suit is offline from the neck down"
Anton turned off his whip, and Tony collapsed to the ground. Cops surrounded him, "Stupid old bitch, always thinks she can talk these guys out of things and get them to surrender." said one
Antone turned on his whips again, and took the cop by the scruff and said, "Did you just call Ms. Carter a bad word? You're lucky I don't feel like killing more people today, better apologise to her afterwards."
| 2017-04-13T06:41:30 | 2017-04-13T05:10:16 | 37 | 10 |
[WP] A senile, old superhero still goes out to fight crime. None of the younger heros respect him anymore but all the villains have a soft spot for him.
Maybe he's found himself in the middle of a hero/villain war, or he's just trying to stop a bank robbery.
Edit: wow this uhh... kinda blew up didn't it?
Oh man I'm so sad I've got work today and can't just spend the whole day reading each and every story, they've *made* my breaks though! | (Not exactly senile but I liked the idea of an aging hero and a young, sympathetic villain).
Lightning crackled as a bolt screamed across the pavement, filling the air between the dock warehouses with a blinding blue flash. Tempest frowned as it struck Captain Tomorrow in the chest.
“You used to be faster…” He mumbled as he slowly walked towards the twitching, barely conscious form of the aging hero. “You had it all: strength, speed, intelligence. Some even claimed you had telekinesis…” He knelt next to the large man and put a hand on his chest. Just as Captain Tomorrow’s eyes closed, Tempest let out a small burst of electricity from his palm and Captain Tomorrow sprang up suddenly. “I’m not done with you yet, old man.”
“Why don’t you just kill me?” the defeated hero growled, his breathing ragged, one eye fused shut by lightning. “Isn’t that what you do?”
“You think I’m a murderer?!” Tempest shouted, hoisting the gigantic man through the air with all his might and shoving him against the brick wall before releasing him and turning away, staring up at the moon. “I’ve never killed a soul…” He whispered.
Captain Tomorrow tilted his head. Why had Tempest turned his back? The naïve inexperience of a young villain? No, he had won this fight. He wasn’t stupid. What was his game? “Doesn’t matter… you’ve hurt plenty with your villainous actions.” He spat.
Tempest turned back to the hulking figure sitting propped up against the wall; an artifact, a stalwart defender of a time long past. “Why do you fight?” He asked the old man, staring into his greying eye.
“I- I… fight for…” Captain Tomorrow stammered, looking for the words. “I fight for justice. I fight for those who cannot. I fight to keep evil at bay and t-“
“Cut the bullshit!” Tempest sneered for a moment before taking a breath and regaining composure. “I don’t want to hear that canned crap. I want to know why YOU fight. This world is broken. Things aren’t like they were. Lines have crossed, black and white have fused into a blurry grey. Heroes and Villains don’t exist anymore. The Coalition of Defense dried up ages ago and your friends with it. Red Flag is locked up underground with dementia because it was ‘too expensive’ to attempt rehabilitation, Carrion is doing street performances for food, and Lightfoot offed himself after that false rape allegation had him labeled a menace to all. The world is not on your side. The PEOPLE are not on your side… why are you on theirs?”
Captain Tomorrow stared with a wide eye at the young man standing before him. There was such passion in his words. A tear escaped the big man’s eye, followed by another and another. Soon a steady stream of tears flowed down his cheeks as he ran a hand through his sparse, greying hair and let out an exasperated laugh. “It’s all I know…” He cried. “It’s all I know.”
Tempest frowned at the big man out of pity. “This…” he said, gesturing towards the broken relic of a man “This is why I fight.” He walked over and slid down the wall to sit next to Captain Tomorrow. As the man wept next to him, Tempest pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a spark from his thumb. “You’ve been at this for 50 years, started while you were just a kid. You got picked up by the Coalition of Defense and made a career out of stopping Villains who wanted to destroy the world or rule it. But as time went on, those Villains found other ways to make their mark. They traded in their capes and lairs for three-piece suits and skyscrapers. Turns out ruling the world or destroying it is a lot easier than anyone thought.” He took a long drag of the cigarette and passed it to the old man who took it warily and began to smoke.
“So why do you fight?” The hulking figure asked, wiping the tears from his face. “I don’t understand. You say that the villains are no more but you steal and destroy property, you cause mayhem. Why do you do it?”
Tempest sighed and looked at the ground. “My father taught me to stand up for what I thought was right. He said that sometimes people would try to tell me I was wrong but if I listened to my heart, I could never fail. Those villains he fought are running the show now. They’re in the corps, the government, and the law enforcement. Even our once renowned heroes don’t get the care and respect they deserve because those who could get it done don’t care. Not all of them are corrupt but like I said, everything is grey now. It’s hard to distinguish between the good and the bad. All I have left to follow is my heart.”
The old man put his head in his hands. “Maybe I’m too old for this. I’ve been defending this city for so long and not once has it defended me. Your path sounds like vengeance but perhaps it’s just the way of the world now.” He sighed and dropped the cigarette into a puddle. “What a world it is where people like you are the only ones who seem to give a shit.”
Tempest smirked and hopped to his feet extending a hand toward the big man who hesitated before taking it and clambering to his feet.
“Come on…. Let’s go home dad.”
| As Anton's whip tightened around Tony's neck, all the while sending huge volts of electricity through Tony's armor, he saw a familiar figure walk towards him.
"Ms. Carter, please step away!!!".
Peggy stopped for a second, and then continued walking towards Anton.
"Stop! You know his father stole my dad's inventions. He will pay for his father's sins."
Peggy stood face to face with Anton. Well, technically, her chest was facing his stomach. She didn't hate her old age, but was definitely not too happy about how much effort it took for her to stand up straight. She took a deep breath and straightened her back. Now they were chest to face. Peggy summoned some more strength and lifted her neck and looked into Anton's eyes.
"Now, Anton, do not pretend that your father was righteous and innocent. I think we both know the things he did."
His eyes dropped, he looked sideways, unable to make eye contact, "He was no angel, but his father," looking at Tony writhing at the other end of his whip, "reaped the benefits of my father's hard work, and build such a huge business empire. His father," he lowered his voice as he increased the voltage that hit the armor, "sent my father back to Russia, where he spent the rest of his life in a Gulag."
"Anton, is that what your father told you?"
Anton's eyes met hers, searching for answers. She continued...
"I was in SHIELD. You want to know what happened? Your father was kidnapped by HYDRA, and then some of the major publications released news stories of him being deported."
"He was a brilliant scientist. You think that if he had been deported, he would've been kept in a Gulag?" She laughed a little. "You think Russians would waste a great mind such as your father's in a Gulag". She said Gulag in a typical Russian accent and really elongated the aa sound to make her point.
"What do you think the SHIELD did with Arnim Zola? Do you think we threw him in a prison? No, we put him to work, and he worked for us until the day he died."
"He was old, senile, and brainwashed, by the time they let him go, probably he was of no use to them anymore."
"Come on Anton, Tony's not your enemy. Let him go, and hold me hostage so that he doesn't hurt you."
"I am not taking you hostage, Peggy."
"But you're letting him go."
"I am not sure"
"Yes you are"
"Peggy, how do I know you're telling me the truth?"
"Anton, I might be lying to you, but you agree that there is room for doubt in your theory. Right? Then I will go and talk to Tony"
"It's going to take you the whole year to reach him, by then his backup will be here."
"You really want to insult me right now?"
"Teasing, Ms. Carter, teasing, not insulting... I am sorry..."
Peggy turned around and thought to herself. Well it's going to be a long walk.
As she neared Tony, she was grateful that this time she won't have to straighten up, the man was already on his knees.
"How you doing Tony?"
"Listen Peggy, I don't need your help, my armor is protecting me like a faraday cage, thanks to the failsafes I created to save myself from lightning strikes."
"Tony, who is the man you are fighting?"
"Peggy, please don't think of this as a teachable moment, I am working over here. I really don't need any 'know your enemy' lessons right now"
"What happened Tony, systems are offline, can't run a facial recognition?"
"His whip's fried all armor connectivity below my helmet, my network sensors are on my back, and they are offline."
"So you can't even call for backup?"
Tony's voice was very low, as he very sheepishly said, "No"
"And... you don't need my help? Okay, why am I not dead right now?"
"Peggy, stop asking me questions, I am busy", Tony said, annoyed, when it suddenly dawned on him, "Why aren't you dead, Peggy? Because you know him!!!?? How? Why is someone you know attacking me? What's going on Peggy?"
"Because his father was a friend..." she paused, waiting for his helmet to turn towards her " of your father and me"
"Then why the hell is he attacking me, how the hell does he have my ARC reactor? Oh because his father invented it. He is Vanko's son."
"Finally, you learnt something, do you promise not to attack him?"
"He killed so many people here today, how can I let him go?"
"I am trying to save your behind, young man!!! At least have some common sense."
"Peggy, I can't let him go..."
"Tony, as things stand, I really don't think you're in a position of holding him. I am going to go and make him go away. Catch him next time... Although I'll recommend that you try helping him."
"Why will I help him?"
Peggy just shrugged, and went back to Anton, "what do you want to do?"
"I don't know, I killed so many people here today"
"Anton, that's what you did, what do you want to do now?"
"Peggy, they will arrest me..."
"Yes Anton, but they will not deport you, you built an ARC reactor yourself, in a garage in Russia. What do you think will happen next? You will go to prison, but you will work on stuff you always dreamed of."
"What about him?"
"His suit is offline from the neck down"
Anton turned off his whip, and Tony collapsed to the ground. Cops surrounded him, "Stupid old bitch, always thinks she can talk these guys out of things and get them to surrender." said one
Antone turned on his whips again, and took the cop by the scruff and said, "Did you just call Ms. Carter a bad word? You're lucky I don't feel like killing more people today, better apologise to her afterwards."
| 2017-04-13T07:07:03 | 2017-04-13T05:10:16 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | *Not again*
One second I was driving down I-95, the next I was in a dungeon inside a glowing satanic circle with lava flowing down the walls. If you are familiar with I-95, this is not a significant downgrade, in fact, depending on the day you might find yourself better off. But see, I was going back home, and being summoned was the last thing I wanted.
Anyways, I tested the glowing lines, I flicked the edge of my spectral prison with my finger and jumped back immediately...into the other wall.
Yeah. It was that kind of day.
I winced and got to my feet. This one was good. The competent ones could make their prisons be like walls, the incompetent ones had prisons made of cardboard, but to have the wall actually provide feedback...there could only be one summoner with such skill.
“H..hey, Lisa.”
Yep. It was that kind of day. I turned to find the furry little thing standing in front of the summoning circle, just past the bounds of the summoning circle. Their fur moved independently as if there was a wind blowing in a dozen directions, but of course we were in a dungeon. They reminded me of little, creepy teddy bears or the Ewoks from Star Wars.
“Jesus Christ, Soggoth, stop fucking summoning me!”
Soggoth cringed, his fur recoiling away from me as if repelled by a magnet. “L...look, I have to keep a reputation alright! Can you imagine if the rest of the people found-”
“Maybe I should just tell everyone else, that the Prime Host-”
“Err...it’s Supreme Host, actually”
“Whatever! Leader, president, dictator, whatever the fuck, is interested in-”
“SHHH!” Soggoth said immediately and the walls of my prison pressed against me for a moment before Soggoth realized what he was doing.
“S...sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” he said miserably.
I just glared daggers at him, echoes of the pain still dancing across my skin. “I’ll charge you double now.”
Soggoth sighed. “Yeah...I figured.” He conjured two bars of solid gold out of the air. “Really, I don’t get why these rocks are so meaningful in hell,” he said, shaking his head.
“Alright, what is it you want to know today?”
See, humans were summoned for their knowledge, or well, google’s knowledge. The summoner's would ask how to make bombs, learn ancient battle strategies, make inventions. We made sure to never give them too much, lest they no longer need us. But some summoners had entirely other interests. Like Soggoth here, the leader of the entire damn dimension.
“Okay, so what happened in Game of Thrones this time?” he asked, handing me the gold through the circle.
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed check out my sub [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| Just another day. That's how it started at least. I woke up around 4:30 pm and started getting ready for my night shift. This whole grown up adult job thing wasn't all it had cracked up to be. Twelve hour shifts in a cramped room dealing with all the idiots my city had to offer. I guess you could say it was like hell on earth.
As I stepped outside and turned to lock my apartment behind me, I felt an odd sensation. Like something was about to happen but. I could say what. Just as I was about to shrug it off and take the short stroll to my car, a plume of smoke that smelled of sulfur enveloped me. And then everything went black.
When my vision finally returned, I almost thought I had somehow teleported to work. Small space, dimly lit. Felt like work for sure. But as the blurriness cleared from my eyes, I started to notice things. Candles. All in a circle and chalk lines between them. In the corner stood a figure, but I couldn't make anything else out at first.
"It worked!" came a shout from the figures direction. "Holy hell it actually worked!" The excitement in the figures voice was almost palpable. "Now that you're here, I can finally call myself a summoner!" the unknown figure said as it approached me.
The figure entered the candle lit circle and stood just a few feet from me. I could see now it was a young woman, maybe 25. She wasn't unattractive either with bright green eyes and a curly blonde hair. Then it hit me like a sledgehammer. What the actual hell is going on here?
"A summoner? Listen, I don't know how you got me here or what you're expecting but you're gonna have to catch me up here. Number one, where am I? Number two, forget that I need to get to work." I said with a mix of bewilderment and frustration.
"You're on earth. I summoned you here so I could finally be a summoner. Summoning an actual demon is the last part of the initiation." I looked at the young woman with an almost extreme amount of incredulity.
"You've got to be kidding me. Wow. It's not enough that I somehow managed to get Kidnapper but to get kidnapped by a fanatic about some kinda demon cult. This is icing on the cake" I spat out as I turned to leave the circle and find the exit. What? Was she gonna stop a grown man from getting out of here? As if.
"You can't leave yet" she said from behind me very calmly. I ignored her and kept searching for a door. A window. Anything that could get me out of here. "You gonna stop me?" I shot back at her. "I have a job to get to and bills to pay. Whatever fantasy or lunacy is going on with you, leave me out of it and get some other gullible sap to play with you" I added over my shoulder. "I for one---"
Suddenly I was whisked away from that dimly lit room. Before I even know what had happened I was standing next to a car that had its bonnet wrapped around a tree and a fire hydrant next to it spouting water freely into the air. Next to me stood a familiar face with a look on his face only comparable to that of a teenager telling his dad that he took the car without permission.
I looked at the scene and then back at the man. "Don't worry Kevin, you're covered!" I barely got the words out before being transported back to my work office to type up the paperwork for Mr. Kevin and his claim before being whisked away on another claim. | 2017-05-12T07:53:08 | 2017-05-12T07:49:08 | 6,106 | 61 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | Mr. Winsel blinked. He was no longer in his clean, orderly office. He was in a dingy cave that smelled of mold and slime and... cave stuff. Candles surrounded him. The soles of his shoes rubbed against a hastily scribbled pentagram on the cave floor. A sorcerer, looking quite proud of himself, grinned cheerfully.
The middle aged, slightly obese, balding HR manager found himself at a loss. A goat was nibbling on a trouser leg. "What's going on?"
"Oh sorry about that. I was going to sacrifice it, but then the damn thing ran away and, well... I did try to catch it, of course, but I'm not exactly the most athletic person in the world, so I just did the ritual without the blood sacrifice."
Mr. Winsel blinked. His lumpy moustache, trimmed in the impression of a very melancholic slug, *twitched*. "And who are you? Where am I?"
"Ah, yes. You are in the overworld, my good demon, and I am the one who summoned you here," he grabbed Mr. Winsel's right shoulder in what he thought was an amiable manner. "We are going to do some great things together! Just you and me! Master and minion!"
"But, I'm not a demon."
"What?", the sorcerer did a double take. "Uh. You are from Hell, right?"
"I'm from Michigan."
"That's somewhere in Hell."
"No."
"Are you... certain?", the sorcerer flipped open a tome. "I am pretty certain I just opened a portal to Hell.
"Apparantly you didn't," Winsel sighed. "Now, please send me back. I have paperwork to do. Interviews to conduct. Not everyone has the luxury to traipse around in their pajamas, performing 'magic tricks'."
"What did you say? Look. I don't know where you come from, but magic is a highly respectable institution here. You can't just-"
Mr. Winsel took a very deep and noisy breath. "I want to see your manager."
"My manager? You mean the headmaster? I... He's not really supposed to know what I'm doing this. This is all very illegal and..."
Winsel grabbed the sorcerer by his flowing black robes. "Listen here, shithead. I don't know what drugs you had to inbibe to make you think that dressing up like a dutch midwife was a good idea, but if you don't stop jerking your goddamned 'magic wand' for five minutes and run to find your fucking manager, I will shit fury all over the pitiable little thing that is your life. ONE FUCKING PHONE CALL. One fucking phone call and I will have my fucking legal team plowing you in your little shitty fucking rear so hard that you'll be shitting out of a fucking mile wide hole in your goddamned fucking stomach! WHERE IS YOUR FUCKING MANAG-"
The sorcerer wiped the spittle off his face with a hankerchief as he stared at where Mr. Winsel had faded away into nothingness, restored to his own reality. He did not know what a 'legal team' was, but surely it was something dark and horrible. It was clear now that he had not summoned a minor demon as he had intended, but some sort of archdaemon of vast cunning and viciousness.
He took a brief look at the tome of ancient sitting on a nearby rock before setting it on fire with a fireball. Summoning demons was, decidedly, not a good idea.
| "Shit shit shit" I said under my breath as I raced down the sidewalk towards the bus. It was raining and all I could do was hold my unopened umbrella above my head as I ran. It obviously didn't help, so when I finally reached the bus stop panting and ready to fall over I was completely soaked through.
The bus doors were already closing when I reached it, but being desperate I managed to jam my umbrella between the gap in the doors before they closed. The door creaked rather loudly and the driver looked at me as if I were a fucking lunatic. I was still trying to catch my breath and very late so being crazy was the least of my problems.
After a moment the driver grudgingly opened the doors once more. I gave him a small 'thank you' between gasps, but he just glared at me at motioned for me to take my seat.
I sat down next to an elderly man listening to something on an old Walkman. He didn't pay me any attention, but continued to hum what sounded like dream lover.
I pulled off my glasses and began to wipe away the rainwater as I muttered a thanks to whatever god cared enough to receive it for making it on the bus in time. I had only just started my new job and the boss was as stoic as they come, so I really couldn't afford to be late. It hadn't taken long enough to get the damn job, anyway.
Of course I'll probably never be able keep that job now. Not with what happened about five minutes into the bus journey. One minute I was looking out to the passing storefronts with the old man now humming some blues tune and the next I had collapsed onto a hardwood floor in a room where everything was dim and smelled of old books and damp.
Managing to left my head up and put my now bent glasses back on, I saw that I was now in what looked like a attic. There were towers of books everywhere.
Getting myself into a sitting position I noticed I was surrounded by what looked like candles. There were five of them and they were all black and arranged in a circle around me. There were white trails on the floor connecting the candles. It looked like paint and as I inspected the pattern I noticed it formed a star. Frowning I looked up and nearly had a heart attack. There in front of the point of the star stood an old man in what looked like a long and dark robe. He stood perfectly still with a rather heavy looking book held open in front of him in his hands. He was smiling, or rather he was smiling at me. That's when I felt a tendril of fear run up along my spine. I backed away, my heart now begining to beat very quickly as the old man smiled at me. I hit a wall and I couldn't move any further. Looking back I saw there was no wall, but for some reason the area just before the candle was solid and I could not move past it. That's when the old man spoke.
"That's a barrier around you, demon. You cannot move beyond it" he said, his voice deep and grave. He looked pleased with himself. Utterly confused, I gulped and tried to speak.
"Ugh... who..who are you?" I stuttered. I had meant for it to come out more level, but I had so many questions and scenarios running through my head I guess it couldn't be helped.
"I am Lord Alsen Bodyth of the mage council, but you may call me master, demon" he proclaimed, sounding very proud.
I frowned. "De..demon?"
"Yes, but not just any demon. You're my demon" he pointed out, now grinning. That creeped me the fuck out, but all I could do was give a shaky laugh and say
"But... I.. I'm not a... demon" I wasn't entirely sure of what he was talking about, but I didn't liked it.
He gave me an understanding look and a nod "yes, yes, that's what they all say, but believe me demon, demon you are. I would know. I summoned you myself from the hell plain..." He looked down to his book for a moment searching for the name. Then having found it he looked back up and, still smiling, said "... Earth"
| 2017-05-12T07:46:52 | 2017-05-12T07:07:38 | 1,871 | 193 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | “I have summoned and bound you, demon! You will listen and obey.”
“Uh, sure. Whatever you say, boss.” Michael tried to make out some features of whatever was talking but it was obscured by a dark, heavy robe complete with a hood. “I do whatcha ask and then you send me back. You’ll send me home, right?”
“I am the master here! I will say when you go.”
“Well that’s not fair. Not fair at all. I was just sitting, drinking a beer after work and poof. I’m here. I didn’t know I could even poof. And hell, you didn’t even poof my beer. I would appreciate a beer after being poofed.”
“You will spoke when spoken to!”
“Ah, to hell with this.” Michael took a step but hit something that felt like cling wrap pulled off leftovers heated in a microwave. It was uncomfortably warm but not hot enough to burn.
“My wards bind you! I am the master here. I am your master.”
“I said, to hell with this!” He dropped his shoulder, braced and pushed forward. The cling wrap stuck to him but it snapped in a moment. He grabbed the robed figure by the collar and picked it up, a little shocked by how light it was.
“The wards. The books said they’d work. The wards, they can’t be broken. The wards...”
“Knock it off,” Michael roared. He pulled its hood down. “Well, you ain’t nothing but I child. I mean, you an ugly child, but just a child.”
“I am no such thing. I am Olassin, head of House Olazuim, the third of his name. I have ruled for two decades and brought my house fortune and fame.”
“Forturne and fame huh?” Michael sniggered. “You think I’m a demon. And moreso, you meant to bring me here. Folks doing well don’t need to seek out demons.”
Olassin shuffled its feet. It opened its mouth and then closed it again, dropping its gaze to the floor.
“That’s what I thought.” Michael put the little child-man down and asked, “You can poof me back here any time, right?”
Olassin nodded.
Michael let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “I’m going to fix your problem, whatever it is, and in return, you send me home and never poof me again. Agreed?”
Olassin nodded, a grin suddenly on its face.
“But first, you gonna poof my beer for me. I’m gonna need it to get through this crap.”
edit: typo | It felt like I had tripped up some stairs. For a second I thought I had, and immediately froze. The plate in my hand still held the Reuben, but the surface beneath.....
My head snapped up, and I noticed the darkness first. Second were the candles, placed carefully around me in hexagons expanding away from me. Low-level bands of light etched out the writing between the tiers, though none of it looked like a language I could place. The floor, instead of the carpeted stairs I had been climbing, was an old wood, stained with neglect, and riddled with gaps and protruding nails. One was digging into my hand, and as I lifted it I realized the nail was rough, as if hand-forged.
My analysis of the floor was disrupted by a heavy thud, just beyond the candles.
"Stay where you are, demon!"
"What?" I rose, still holding the plate.
A figure was just visible in the room, which I now saw was small, and claustrophobic. A low work-bench dominated a wall, scattered with shapes that I could only just spot in the candle-light. A window was open, but I couldn't feel a breeze. The figure, which seemed to be rather.... short, was doing its best at a power pose, and failing.
"I said stay where you are!"
"Nah, I got that. What's with the demon? Is that some kind of racist term I'm not aware of?"
"What?"
"What?"
The figure shook its head. "Look, you are a demon, you have to be! I summoned you, with a demon summoning, so you have to be a demon! That's how this works!"
I tried to step forward, collided against something. Something hard. "The fuck!?"
"Ahah, see! That barrier holds in demons! And you're a demon!"
"Oh yeah? Have you tried to pass through this?" Hard as rock, my finger tips told me.
"I don't have to prove it works. It won't, because I'm not a demon!" He even stamped his foot. Adorable.
I had had enough. I shifted my sandwich to my other hand, and hefted the plate. Middle school track, don't fail me now. The plate landed with a soft thud three feet to the left of the figure. Almost as if...
"How old even are you?" I asked, leaning against the barrier and taking a bite of my sandwich.
The figure flinched. "N- not you- hush, you demon!"
"Sooooooo, eight, then?" I glanced over at the figure. Definitely too immature to be an adult. I turned my back on him, and took another bite. "Is this your bedroom? Why do you even want a demon? What are demons supposed to do?"
"I- I said hush!"
"Uh huh. You getting bullied in school?"
"I SAID HUSH!"
My feet skidded across the floor as if I had been shoved. Before I could regain my slouch the walls slammed into me, pinning my sandwich to my thigh, my other arm across my chest. "Wha-"
"I have summoned you, demon, from your Earthly dimension, to aid me in a task!"
The walls were crushing me, and I gave a tiny whimper in response.
"You are to use your dark powers to kill the President, Tonald Drump!" | 2017-05-12T08:18:29 | 2017-05-12T08:05:41 | 617 | 10 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | "Well, that's why you don't trust Samoans..." I trailed off as I realize that something is not quite right. I was reasonably sure that I had just been walking down the street, talking to my good buddy Sully on the phone, but I was now decidedly not on a street.
"This isn't a street at all!" I exclaimed loudly, as I noticed the ring of candles surrounding me. They sat at the edges of a hastily drawn pentagram. The small room seemed unnaturally hot, and I wondered if there was some sort of furnace near by. I quickly stopped wondering anything of the sort, however, after I noticed the man in purple robes gazing at me fixedly from the far wall of the room.
I sat there, gaping at him, until I realized that I was still holding my phone.
"Sully? Are you there?" I asked. No response. I pulled the phone off of my ear and looked at it. No bars. The call had ended. I looked back up at the robed man, who was smiling somewhat smugly.
"Who are you?" I demanded, with all the authority I could muster after having been unwillingly apparition-ed. Apparited? I don't know.
"I am the blue wizard of the north, and I hath summoned thee, in order to use your dark talents." the man intoned haughtily.
"What is this, some kind of nerd convention?" I inquired. "How did you get me here? Did you drug me?"
"Erhm- no. I hath...summoned thee," he repeated, somewhat befuddled.
I looked back down at the pentagram, the candles, and was about to berate the man further, when I heard it. The unmistakable sound of something very large, breathing quietly. I looked hastily to me left, where I noticed the open window for the first time.
"What in God's name..." I half whispered. The man flinched slightly, but I was too entranced to notice.
Outside of the window, gazing unperturbed at me like a common house cat, stood the hulking figure of what I could only assume was a living, breathing dragon.
"Ah!" I exclaimed, falling backwards. I tried to scurry away, but an unstoppable force seemed to be pinning me to the ground. I looked down, only to realize that I had reached the edge of the pentagram. I looked back up at the man in terror, and then back at the dragon.
"What are you doing to me?" I demanded frantically.
"Nothing...yet," the man replied, somewhat lackadaisically.
"I can tell that you're faking that lackadaisical-ness!" I shouted back. The man recoiled slightly, and then recovered himself.
"So it's true..." he muttered.
It was at that moment precisely, that I gave up on trying to understand.
"Oh yeah?" I asked, still locking eyes with several tons of dragon.
"Your kind, they can see falsehoods!" the man announced excitedly.
"My kind?" I inquired without looking.
"Homos."
"Excuse me?" I demanded, suddenly turning towards him. "I may have taken a couple looks or two at my fellow man, but who hasn't in this day and age-"
"I'm sorry, do you prefer Sapien?" he asked. "Or human?" he added, in afterthought.
"Oh...yeah, human is good."
___
/r/Periapoapsis | "Shit shit shit" I said under my breath as I raced down the sidewalk towards the bus. It was raining and all I could do was hold my unopened umbrella above my head as I ran. It obviously didn't help, so when I finally reached the bus stop panting and ready to fall over I was completely soaked through.
The bus doors were already closing when I reached it, but being desperate I managed to jam my umbrella between the gap in the doors before they closed. The door creaked rather loudly and the driver looked at me as if I were a fucking lunatic. I was still trying to catch my breath and very late so being crazy was the least of my problems.
After a moment the driver grudgingly opened the doors once more. I gave him a small 'thank you' between gasps, but he just glared at me at motioned for me to take my seat.
I sat down next to an elderly man listening to something on an old Walkman. He didn't pay me any attention, but continued to hum what sounded like dream lover.
I pulled off my glasses and began to wipe away the rainwater as I muttered a thanks to whatever god cared enough to receive it for making it on the bus in time. I had only just started my new job and the boss was as stoic as they come, so I really couldn't afford to be late. It hadn't taken long enough to get the damn job, anyway.
Of course I'll probably never be able keep that job now. Not with what happened about five minutes into the bus journey. One minute I was looking out to the passing storefronts with the old man now humming some blues tune and the next I had collapsed onto a hardwood floor in a room where everything was dim and smelled of old books and damp.
Managing to left my head up and put my now bent glasses back on, I saw that I was now in what looked like a attic. There were towers of books everywhere.
Getting myself into a sitting position I noticed I was surrounded by what looked like candles. There were five of them and they were all black and arranged in a circle around me. There were white trails on the floor connecting the candles. It looked like paint and as I inspected the pattern I noticed it formed a star. Frowning I looked up and nearly had a heart attack. There in front of the point of the star stood an old man in what looked like a long and dark robe. He stood perfectly still with a rather heavy looking book held open in front of him in his hands. He was smiling, or rather he was smiling at me. That's when I felt a tendril of fear run up along my spine. I backed away, my heart now begining to beat very quickly as the old man smiled at me. I hit a wall and I couldn't move any further. Looking back I saw there was no wall, but for some reason the area just before the candle was solid and I could not move past it. That's when the old man spoke.
"That's a barrier around you, demon. You cannot move beyond it" he said, his voice deep and grave. He looked pleased with himself. Utterly confused, I gulped and tried to speak.
"Ugh... who..who are you?" I stuttered. I had meant for it to come out more level, but I had so many questions and scenarios running through my head I guess it couldn't be helped.
"I am Lord Alsen Bodyth of the mage council, but you may call me master, demon" he proclaimed, sounding very proud.
I frowned. "De..demon?"
"Yes, but not just any demon. You're my demon" he pointed out, now grinning. That creeped me the fuck out, but all I could do was give a shaky laugh and say
"But... I.. I'm not a... demon" I wasn't entirely sure of what he was talking about, but I didn't liked it.
He gave me an understanding look and a nod "yes, yes, that's what they all say, but believe me demon, demon you are. I would know. I summoned you myself from the hell plain..." He looked down to his book for a moment searching for the name. Then having found it he looked back up and, still smiling, said "... Earth"
| 2017-05-12T07:20:02 | 2017-05-12T07:07:38 | 543 | 193 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | continued straight from the prompt...
__
Now... Luckily I'm a redditor, and things like being summoned against your will into an unknown world/situation are a common topic so I had thought through this scenario before. Otherwise I would appear quite confused at my situation and not at all in control of the situation.
"Why have you summoned me?" I bellowed in my best impression of pompous and evil.
The sorcerer scrambled back a few steps, "I have summoned you to make a deal."
I was not sure what it was I was supposed to provide, but as this seemed fairly common for magic I hoped it was something I was capable of.
"You know the price?" I asked haughtily.
"Certainly, one talent of gold and my immortal soul."
I pondered this silently, I had only heard of talents in bible stories but I remembered someone saying that was about 75lbs. I unfortunately did not trade in gold on a regular basis and my phone probably couldn't access the internet from wherever this was; but I knew it was something like $1000 an ounce. 16 ounces per lb x 75 lbs... screw it I pulled out my phone.
The mage reacted with alarm, "What infernal device is that? Know that I am protected by the circle!"
I held up a finger to shush him as I opened the calculator app and figured out how much money I stood to make on this deal...whatever it was. I whistled between my teeth as the number stared up at me $1.25 Million.
"Stop! Stop I can't take it!" The magician screamed. "The circle should have protected me!"
I looked back at him dumbly with my face lit softly by my glowing cell phone screen. "Stop...what?"
"That noise! We cannot stand the sound of your chanting and whatever it is you were doing with your voice just now!"
I once again went silent, not knowing that the otherworldly light of my screen was making me look quite demonic at the moment. "You mean... whistling?" I chirpped softly at the end to demonstrate.
"YES!"
Interesting... "So what is the task you have summoned me for?"
The mage stood back upright, "I need you to defeat the army at our doorstep, use your damning tongue to rain down hell and bring madness to the troops."
"You want me to... sing?"
A tentative nod.
"Okay... where is this army?"
The sorcerer pointed to an arrow slit window in the side of the tower. I could see several dozen burly men in various armor standing outside the gates a dozen feet below... this was an army?
"This is an army?" I said intelligently, "Where I come from, an army is usually hundreds if not thousands of men."
"We are aware of your warlike ways and preference for violence but that is not our way. We only wish to drive away the force below as quickly as possible and make them think twice about attacking again."
I looked down at the phone in my hand again and brought up a video I kept on it to send to my friends randomly. I was about to hit play when I turned back to the mage, "You might want to cover your ears."
> We're no strangers to love
>You know the rules and so do I
>A full commitment's what I'm thinking of
>You wouldn't get this from any other guy
>I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
>Gotta make you understand
>Never gonna give you up
>Never gonna let you down
>Never gonna run around and desert you
>Never gonna make you cry
>Never gonna say goodbye
>Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you...
| At one moment, there was fog. At the next, I find myself standing in a circle of candles, in a darkened room, with nothing but the smell of burning wax and stuffiness, like being inside one of those old military outposts that they keep for posterity. You ever put your hand against a vacuum hose? Imagine that, but going throughout your entire body. That’s the closest I can describe the sensation of being in one place, and then being pulled to wherever this was.
“YES! YES IT WORKED! DO YOU SEE, ASTIEL!? DO YOU SEE?” I turned quickly to see where the voice came from. Standing before me, beyond the candle barrier, was a man, if you could call him that, wearing excessively large dark robes. Protruding from holes in the back of the robes however, was a set of large white feathered wings. Yes, wings. Like the ones you see on depictions of heaven.
“M-master...Do be careful...these demons can be quite dangerous.” Another voice commented, standing beyond the darkness. *Demon? What the hell is he talking about?* As my eyes slowly adjusted from the brightness of the sun to the dimness of this room, I began to see chairs, workbenches, bookcases. The floors were of old stone, and where I was standing did not feel strictly...*level*.
“Quiet, quiet. Ahem...Demon Thomas. I have summoned you here to do my bidding. Do you understand? You will OBEY ME!” The ‘master’ shouted, and thrust an open palm in my direction. I winced, expecting to feel some sort of strange sensation. I felt literally nothing. I stared blankly at him for a moment.
“Erm...Master…?” The second voice behind him spoke with uncertainty.
“LOOK, I…” As I spoke, the very words seem to come out of something that wasn’t me. It was deep, it was dark, it seemed to breathe flame into the very air around me. This shocked me as much as them. I took a step back, and bumped into something that felt hard, but simply wasn’t there. It didn’t make any sense. Kind of like pushing into a trampoline that was a lot less elastic. The master seemed to regain his composure at this point, and stepped forward.
“Thomas. Remain calm or I will MAKE you calm.” There’s only so much talking down to that I can hear before it pisses me off. My blood began to boil. I felt hot. And, as I noted later, that was because fire was coming out of my skin.
“THEN MAKE ME CALM!” I shouted, and the words came out like a shotgun blast. The fire I mentioned? It started flaring out with a fury that smashed into the candle barrier. It was like watching a tree burn in the latest stages of the fire, when all that’s left is an ashen husk with the flames still raging. I know fire’s bad. But I got caught up in the moment. I didn’t care. I punched the barrier. Instead of that hardened elasticity, this time there was a crack. The barrier was coming down.
“SHIT! MASTER SEND HIM BACK, SEND HIM BACK NOW!” The voice cried out in panic, and the flames revealed that he was waving his arms about erratically. The master, at this point, quickly grabbed a nearby tome, and began chanting in a shaking voice a dialect I could not understand.
Meanwhile, I continued to play the part of rampaging demon, because I felt power. Power that didn’t exist in my normal life. Power that made me feel like I could finally grab my destiny and make it what I wanted it to be. No more pushing carts at the grocery store. No more nights of instant ramen. No, finally, I can shape things the way I want them to be. And then I felt that familiar feeling of being sucked through a vacuum hose.
“NO!”
There was fog. And there I was, standing like I had never left. I started pacing back and forth on the grass, garnering all kinds of strange looks from random patrons in the park. I didn’t care though. When I was there, I had power. I could summon fire from my being. I had the strength of a being far better than my own. There, I was the demon Thomas. Here though, I am nothing. I want it back.
I NEED it back. | 2017-05-12T10:38:10 | 2017-05-12T10:09:52 | 427 | 67 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | continued straight from the prompt...
__
Now... Luckily I'm a redditor, and things like being summoned against your will into an unknown world/situation are a common topic so I had thought through this scenario before. Otherwise I would appear quite confused at my situation and not at all in control of the situation.
"Why have you summoned me?" I bellowed in my best impression of pompous and evil.
The sorcerer scrambled back a few steps, "I have summoned you to make a deal."
I was not sure what it was I was supposed to provide, but as this seemed fairly common for magic I hoped it was something I was capable of.
"You know the price?" I asked haughtily.
"Certainly, one talent of gold and my immortal soul."
I pondered this silently, I had only heard of talents in bible stories but I remembered someone saying that was about 75lbs. I unfortunately did not trade in gold on a regular basis and my phone probably couldn't access the internet from wherever this was; but I knew it was something like $1000 an ounce. 16 ounces per lb x 75 lbs... screw it I pulled out my phone.
The mage reacted with alarm, "What infernal device is that? Know that I am protected by the circle!"
I held up a finger to shush him as I opened the calculator app and figured out how much money I stood to make on this deal...whatever it was. I whistled between my teeth as the number stared up at me $1.25 Million.
"Stop! Stop I can't take it!" The magician screamed. "The circle should have protected me!"
I looked back at him dumbly with my face lit softly by my glowing cell phone screen. "Stop...what?"
"That noise! We cannot stand the sound of your chanting and whatever it is you were doing with your voice just now!"
I once again went silent, not knowing that the otherworldly light of my screen was making me look quite demonic at the moment. "You mean... whistling?" I chirpped softly at the end to demonstrate.
"YES!"
Interesting... "So what is the task you have summoned me for?"
The mage stood back upright, "I need you to defeat the army at our doorstep, use your damning tongue to rain down hell and bring madness to the troops."
"You want me to... sing?"
A tentative nod.
"Okay... where is this army?"
The sorcerer pointed to an arrow slit window in the side of the tower. I could see several dozen burly men in various armor standing outside the gates a dozen feet below... this was an army?
"This is an army?" I said intelligently, "Where I come from, an army is usually hundreds if not thousands of men."
"We are aware of your warlike ways and preference for violence but that is not our way. We only wish to drive away the force below as quickly as possible and make them think twice about attacking again."
I looked down at the phone in my hand again and brought up a video I kept on it to send to my friends randomly. I was about to hit play when I turned back to the mage, "You might want to cover your ears."
> We're no strangers to love
>You know the rules and so do I
>A full commitment's what I'm thinking of
>You wouldn't get this from any other guy
>I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
>Gotta make you understand
>Never gonna give you up
>Never gonna let you down
>Never gonna run around and desert you
>Never gonna make you cry
>Never gonna say goodbye
>Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you...
| With a heavy sigh I got out of bed. My body ran on autopilot as I got through my usual morning routine: shower, shave, breakfast. I looked at the clock, dreading as it neared 9am.
"I guess I should get going..." I said with disdain.
The walk to the bus felt like an eternity. It was pure torture. Normally people would cherish the time they spent away from their jobs as they would try and enjoy this time for themselves. All I kept thinking was the hatred towards every minute that passed by, bringing me closer to my job.
The bus got here on time, as usual. Groaning, I walk up to the bus's steps, the driver smiling his goofy smile. How I envy his happiness.
After the usual greetings I proceed to my solitary seat in the back. The bus takes off as I close my eyes, resting me head on the window. Just thinking about my job gives me a headache. My supervisor coming in and hassling me in my cubicle.
Actually... my head really does hurt. "OWWW!" I yell out as I open my eyes. My eyes adjust to the dark room I've suddenly appeared in, the only source of light coming from the candles surrounding me.
'Is... is that a demonic star I'm standing in?' I think to myself.
As my eyes adjust I notice 2 figures, shaking in fear in the corner.
"I didn't think this would actually work! I thought it was just a fiction book! He looks tall. I wonder how tall he is." I kept hearing from their direction.
"Umm... I'm 6 foot 2." I answer.
"Ah! H- he can read minds!" One of the girls yells out. She struggles to find her composure, straightening up as best she can and walks forward, still shaking.
"I- I am the one who summoned you. You must obey me!" She yells out, her voice breaking. It sounds like she's near crying.
"Oh, this was so stupid of me. I shouldn't have done this. I bet he's angry. He's a demon. Of course he's gonna be angry. He won't want to help me at all. Am I gonna for? I dont want to die."
She kept saying all these things but I noticed one thing. Her lips weren't moving. She was still shaking. Ugh. This headache was getting worse. And I could also hear her friend in the back.
"It was a joke. Maybe if I explain it to him he'll spare me. I didn't believe summoning these demons was possible. Our magic isn't strong enough to summon these demons. I just wanted to make her feel better. Me and my stupid ideas."
She wasn't talking either. I really can read minds.
"What do you want?" I bellow out. More because of the headache than the situation as I rub my temples.
"Oh, well um..." she stammers out. Struggling to find her words. Her mind is talking clearly however.
"I should be honest. No... maybe I should just send him back to hell. But if he can help me out it would be useful. Demons are cunning. Or maybe just send him back."
Most of the questions I have seem to have been answered already from their minds. I'm a demon from hell and they summoned me to help out. Fitting... I do consider where I come from hell.
"So you want me to help you out with something?" I ask simply.
"Y- yes.... that's right." She says.
Multiple thoughts race across both of their heads with the details of what they need help with as she continues to stammer. Ugh. I focus myself and drown them out.
'Hmm.... simple enough. Just like ignoring someone in real life.' I think to myself.
"I- I know that making a deal requires me to give you something. I don't have much but I can offer you artifacts, money or..." she continues to stammer.
"I don't really feel like going back to... where I come from." I say, interrupting her.
"I'll help you out. As for what I want... I'll decide on that when I finish helping you."
"O- ok... I can see why you wouldn't want to go back to hell with your ears and tail ripped off."
I raise and eyebrow as the girl takes off her hood, revealing cat ears underneath.
This is going to be interesting. | 2017-05-12T10:38:10 | 2017-05-12T09:56:21 | 427 | 34 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | Most people consider my job to be fairly boring. I'm a lawyer, you see. Specifically, I'm a Junior Associate at Fox, Rothschilde, Wickersham, & Taft in Washington, D.C.
I spend most of my waking hours reading government contracts, writing memos about them, and generally trying to bill the most hours humanly possible. They pay me what most people would consider to be a very good living, but most people don't have $250,000 in student loans.
It was 5pm on a Friday, and I was sitting at my desk browsing reddit (no, I wasn't billing for it--that would be unethical), when I was suddenly blinded by a bright flash. I found myself still sitting at my desk in a brightly-lit cavern stone cavern. Every surface had been buffed to a high shine. There was a circle of what looked like tiny birthday candles around me--each of them brighter than a halogen floodlight. I rolled back in my office chair, and hit an invisible force-field. It flickered and hissed where my chair touched it, but held firm. Several high-pitched voices began chanting softly in unison,
"Oh demon of the foulest Earth, we have summoned you here and now bind you to our will! Do not test the might the warlocks of the Cabal of Illuamdmitae, for we have power beyond imagining..."
I stood up as the speech continued, and began to look around for the speakers. In front of my desk were three tiny figures--each barely a meter high--clad in shimmering, almost-iridescent red robes. The fabric was unlike anything I had seen before. Its leader held a staff (or perhaps a spear?) made entirely out elongated gemstones, bound together with shimmering rope. Spider silk?
"Excuse me," I interrupted. "What's going on?"
The robed figures covered their ears in pain. The leader handed the other two what appeared to be lumps of beeswax. "Do not attempt to injure us with your foul voice, demon, for we have taken precautions!"
I tried to whisper now. "Okay. One, I'm not a demon. Two, where in the hell am I? Three, who are you?"
"We, your masters, have summoned you from the foulest Earth to achieve a lasting victory in our age-old conflict with the oath-breaking Raelian Horde."
"Umm, you do realize that I'm a lawyer, right? I can't really help with this unless you need me to review a contract, or maybe do a mediation session."
"What are these infernal mechanisms you speak of? Is there some way to bind the Raelians to their word as we have bound you?"
"What do you know about contracts...?"
[NOTE: The basic idea here was "Apply Skill: Law," combined with a human lawyer who suddenly has superpowers, but is extremely vulnerable to light (which is brighter there). This premise was much funnier and/or more interesting in my head than this story is turning out to be. I'll continue this if there's interest, but I doubt there will be.]
| I hate this job.
Two thankless years pandering to the whims of a boss who still can't remember my name and calls me Jimmy. My name is Jonathan. It's Jonathan!
But I'm spineless. I can't face up to his authoritative and domineering personality and honestly, he plain scares the shit out of me.
I'm so done with this job... done, done, do....
Fuck! My eyes sear with pain abruptly. I can't see anything bar a blinding light. A feeling of weightlessness washes over my body and I hit the ground. It wasn't cheap carpet like I'd expect falling off of my chair at work.
It was stone. Cold, hard, unforgiving stone and it felt like my bones disintegrated against it. This sort of thing isn't normal... Am I having a stroke? Am I dying?
I open my eyes and my blurred vision clears. Two large eyes stare back. Big round poppy eyes that appear elated.
"Brungus, I think we're nearly there!" says the round face staring down at me.
The roof is wooden and it looks like it's lit by an open fire somewhere.
"What do you mean nearly? How did we scrump this up again? I followed the formula in the book to the very letter!"
There's moss growing on the stony walls, a musty smell like mould bombards my nostrils.
"Come have a look for yourself!"
Why are they gawking at me? What's so damn interesting? Another pair of poppy eyes look over me. Why can't I move? Who the hell are these fuckin' freaks?
"Whpflups gwun ennnn? Pflteehh eemmm ehhh?" I can't talk. Nothing but a flatulent noise erupts from my mouth as I try.
"Hmm, he's trying to speak, ugly-looking thing." His eyes look concerned yet irritated.
I try to call for help.
"Pflpelp plmeee, plfpleeees."
A harsh voice barks back, "Shut up will you! You disgust me!"
"PflpOK." I stop trying to ask for help.
"You know, when we swiped this Tome of Demonology from the headmaster's personal library, I never would have thought summoning a denizen of hell to be quite so recalcitrant."
My heart is palpitating and I have that low blood pressure feeling, like when you get up too fast except, I'm not getting up. I'm stuck here on the stone floor listening to a pair of bug-eyed weirdos chat about who the fuck knows what.
"This... this one's, even more stomach wrenching than our last one... Send it back."
"Send it back? But this one could put us on the map Brungus!"
"Send it Back!"
I hear a humming and a muttering from one of the freaks. Light flashes in my eyes again and I feel like I'm falling. Suddenly I hit the ground and this time it feels like cheap carpet which brings some small comfort, I'm home.
A shrill scream punctures my ears.
It's Tracy from accounting and it sounds like she's seen something awful. I realise that I still can't move. I look upwards and see Mark from the cubicle across as he starts to dry retch.
"Somebody call an ambulance!"
"What the fuck is an ambulance going to do for him?"
"Just get help!!"
My body is completely without bones and I have the outward appearance of a dying jellyfish on a sea-shore.
My boss walks into my cubicle and berates me for taking a coffee break without asking and I apologize with a "pflthorry bothh".
I sigh internally. Spineless.
| 2017-05-12T11:53:23 | 2017-05-12T11:17:02 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You wake up in a cheesy action movie. You try to help out the hero by pointing out obvious plots and bad guys, only to realize you're the comic relief. | I followed Vince into the streets, his leather jacket blowing behind him as he slowly walked away from two metric tons of explosives placed inside a small mansion of dead goons.
"Hey Vince," I called out, running past him. "We should get going, the house is going to blow."
Vince stopped in his tracks and whipped off his sunglasses. "The only thing's that gonna blow is your mind when I rescue Sheryl from Lenny, the mob boss."
I opened my mouth to speak but decided against it. There were no words for what I had just heard. Instead, I hurried away from the house.
"Vince," I said, "you should seriously get away, being this close to the explosion is--"
The house erupted in a fireball. A wave of heat slammed into me like a physical hit and flew off my feet. My body crumpled against the sidewalk as I gasped for air. A shrill note sounded in my ear. I looked up to see Vince, his leather jacket still flowing behind him and his sunglasses back on his face. He whipped them off again and stared off into the distance as if looking into some invisible camera.
"That fight was... explosive."
*What the fuck?*
---
Lenny, the mob boss's mansion stood in the middle of a fifty acre field. Trees and shrubbery shrouded his house from the public but also provided Vince and I the perfect cover for our infiltration. We crouched inside the overgrowth, Vince's finger twitching on his gun. Tonight, a full moon dangled from the sky.
"Okay, Vince," I whispered. "The guards come in cycles, if we wait for the chance, we can sneak in without drawing any attention."
Vince looked back, sunglasses still over his eyes. "You can hide like a baby if you want, I will fight like a man."
"No Vince," I pleaded. "We can sneak in, save Sheryl, and sneak out before they even notice us."
Vince took off his sunglasses a-fucking-gain. He grasped the air in front of him. "I would die for love."
"You don't god damn have to!" I screamed under my breath.
He shook his head, a grin parting between his lips. "It is because you have not yet found true love, my friend. You, who are like a twig, and most definitely a virgin."
I stared at my supposed friend. "Vince, do you even know my name?"
But before I could finish, he scrambled into Lenny's lawn, not a single bit of cover around him and whipped out his duel pistols. "Lenny!" he screamed, announcing his position to the world. "I have come for my woman!"
The night erupted in gunfire. Bullets danced around Vince, sprouting dirt and smoke by his feet. He fired into the air seemingly at random, but goons kept falling from buildings or clutching their hearts in slow death gurgles.
I watched from the cover of the shrubbery. When it was all over and there was no more goons to kill, he did the sunglasses thing again. "Easier than stealing candy from a mob baby."
---
*Fuck this shit.*
I had snuck into the building. With everyone distracted by Vince, I had literally been able to walk through the back door. There wasn't even a window to climb through, just the unlocked backdoor. If Vince's sunglasses-wearing ass wouldn't be smart, I would.
I found Sheryl's holding room and walked into pitch black. "Sheryl," I called, "I'm here to save you."
The lights turned on, revealing a room of warm colors, rounded wood furniture, and stacked bookshelves. Sheryl sat in a chair, her mouth gagged and hands tied. In the middle of the room was a single leather chair that spun to face me. Lenny sat in it, a cigar in his mouth and cat in his lap.
"We meet again, Vince's companion." he said, grinning.
"You know, I have a name."
"Did you not think I would be here?" He scoffed as if I was a child.
"Not really," I said. "I mean, your goons are all dead and the man who can apparently see in pitch black with sunglasses on is on his way up. I would've ran if I were you. You know, cut your losses."
Lenny pulled out a gun that gleamed gold beneath the lights. "Vince cannot save you this time!"
I grabbed my hair. "What part of this night makes you think that you've been winning? What the hell is wrong with you people?"
"Vince!" Sheryl screamed. She had apparently spit out her gag just as Vince entered the room. The power of love, right?
Vince turned and locked eyes with Lenny. "Don't shoot him," he said, "it's me you want."
"How perceptive, Vince!" Lenny said and pulled the trigger.
I sprung up, diving out of the way. And somehow, I dived straight into Vince. The bullet hit my chest as I accidentally shielded Vince from its impact.
"Nooooo," Vince screamed and ran to my side. He grabbed my head. "Don't you die. You're my best friend in this world!"
"Vince," I chocked out. "What's my name?"
Vince took off his sunglasses and looked me dead in the eye. "My best friend."
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations by popular demand, and more!
| She stood on the rooftop and her dress hugged her. Her shadows were long, stretching wickedly over the scene of men. The sound of the waterfall was like a clock; it's roar counting the time. And time was nearly up.
"Arnold, my love, I knew you would come."
"Maria! Nothing in the world could keep me from you!"
"Ah, but these men. There are more inside. I am trapped here!"
"No worries, my love! I will save you."
I had been hiding. Everything was surreal. The sound of men shifting inside was like a train approaching. I did not know how I got here, but I needed Arnold to get out.
"What are you doing? Shouldn't you be quiet?"
He was a big man. His muscles bounced in anticipation.
"And who are you?"
"AAHHHH. Arnold he is an assassin!"
"An assassin, eh? No fear my love! I will kick his ass ass in!"
"What?"
The pain exploded in my chest. His fist was rough and warm. I remember coughing and he was over me. I thought I was dead but the doors of the house opened. Surprisingly, I could move.
A stream of men ran out. There was an explosion somewhere.
"Arnold!"
"Oh ho ho. Looks like we have company!"
The men came in two lines like a co-ordinated dance troupe. They wore black with masks on their faces and shouted in slightly racist accents.
"You die now big man!"
Arnold jumped out the way. I scrambled up and and one of the men ran into me. He groped me and we kissed and I tried to push him off.
"Is this how American fight?" he said.
There was manic laughter; it sounded like a coked up director type laughing at his own joke.
"No. This is how we fight!"
Arnold kicked and punched the line of men. From above, the woman was pointing and giving obvious directions.
"Arnold! She's one of them! You've been duped!"
"Ah ha! Nice try assassin! But you've been duped!"
"What are you talking about?"
"My d-dupes!"
And he hit me twice and there was blood running down my face and I fell far, much further than I thought possible. The grass was prickly and felt fake, but the dirt there in the garden was real.
"Get 'em, Arnold!"
"Of course, my love!"
And he rushed through the files of patient men, screaming. There was the smell of gasoline then, high and obvious. It felt like a bad set piece being set up.
"Arnold! They're going to burn you!"
But he didn't hear, or he ignored me (it was hard to tell).
From inside the house an old man with a forked beard and bad teeth came out. There was a flash of lightning. Arnold was running towards him, yet there was enough time for him to speak.
"Ah, the American! I have a gift for you! I hear you like to eat plenty breakfast! Well here I make you toast!"
He pulled a flamethrower from behind him. It looked like a painted leafblower.
The flamethrower started as Arnold neared. What leaves there were nearby started to blow, then a match fell from behind the man and the grass was ignited.
"AHHHHH! It burns!"
But he was still running. He jumped and did a barrel roll and he was on fire and he hit the old man like a bullet.
Both men fell inside into the dark. I was in pain then and me and the other men were just standing there. I wondered why some things were fake while others seemed to hurt.
"What shit is this?" I asked.
"A cheque that won't bounce," the man said, in perfect English.
"Is this a movie?"
"This is something else. This is *magic*."
"So it's a movie?"
"I mean... That's kind of a hard thing to answer. I really don't know what to say. Why would you ask that? Could you at least wait for some distraction to happen so the story would not focus on me and I wouldn't have to face the fact that its logic isn't internally consistent?"
And then Arnold emerged from an opening in the roof. He was charred and ash spread over his body.
"Maria! I have prevailed! That old man is dead now!"
She turned to him and that dress was really, really tight. I wondered how she fit into it. Was it stitched onto her?
"He's dead? Papa is dead?"
"But you're not even Asian!" I shouted.
"Papa? Maria, what are you talking about?"
"You fool!"
She kicked him with a high heel. What a score of men couldn't do, an attractive foot managed easily. Arnold fell off the roof and rolled amidst the grass and mud and he was screaming.
"Maria!"
He was looking up at her. Somehow he was dying.
"Dude, this is all just pretend."
"This may be pretend to you assassin, but my love for her is real!"
She cackled like how I imagined she did when she cashed the cheque for this shit.
"Love? The only thing I love is my Papa!"
And I thought that, that was kind of incestuous. And I wondered why she was laughing if her Papa was dead.
"Maria, say it isn't so!"
"Ah, but it is Arnold! It is!"
"NOOOOOOO!"
He looked up to the sky as the rain began to fall. November Rain began to play and I looked around to figure out what was happening.
"I had a real life before this, you know," I said to the guy in the mask.
I realised how tight those costumes was then and I was embarrassed to be looking at him in the rain.
"Like you're the only one," he said.
The violins thundered and I kind of walked away from that house and closed my eyes. Somehow, I'd find my way back to reality. Somehow I did. Isn't that a convenient end to a story? | 2017-05-31T06:37:10 | 2017-05-31T04:55:12 | 659 | 60 |
[WP] You never kill the spiders in your home, you just whisper "today you, tomorrow me" when you set them outside. Now, in your most dire moment, an army of spiders arrives to have your back. | It had all come down to this. I stand upon this roof top silently contemplating my life. I had always been the compassionate type. Each day I made as many selfless acts as possible. I don't like to see anyone or anything struggle. I am the type of person that always gave away my spare change, helped elderly women across the street, and even things most people wouldn't blink about like setting spiders outside instead of killing them.
I had spent my life helping the helpless. Maybe because I knew what it was like to be helpless. There was no good reason why I was depressed. I had a fairly normal childhood. Nothing stands out that could've potentially lead to my depression. None of that really mattered anyway. I've grown tired of trying to help those around me, because every time I begin to feel as if I'd made an impact, I realize the world is just as desolate as before. I've never felt amy sense of purpose or belonging. In my eyes, all the caring I've done never amounted to anything in my life. My last wish is that my impact is remembered by somebody, anybody.
I feel a cold rush of air overcome my senses. It fills my nostrils, makes my eyes water, whistles through my ear, sends shivers across my skin and violently thrashes my long unkept hair. I have no time to think, it doesn't feel fast or slow it just kind of happens. As I begin to realize the gravity of the situation I collide with something.
I yelp, shortly before realizing that I feel no pain. For a brief moment I am going upwards until I come down and fall delicately into what appears to a large tightly woven spider web! The crescent moon lighting allows me to barely make out, that I am about ten feet above the ground. Slowly I see hundreds, maybe more, spiders come into focus. From all angles I see eightfold eyes staring back at me, and then they begin to move in a flurry of excitement, Quickly they disperse leaving a small area clear and obvious. Spelled out a lá Charlotte's Web, I make out the words, "Today you, tomorrow me."
It turns out that all of these years someone remembered all that I had done. | Fear struck my heart as I watched the great book descend towards me, falling with falling with both speed and force. I tried as hard as I could to dash out of the way, but I had noticed it too late. I prepared myself for the end.
The boot froze, the giant pulling back his foot. He bent to the ground, gently pulling me into the skies. I let out a breath of relief as I saw where was taking me- back to the land of the sun. He let me to the ground gently, but before he returned to his cave, left me with a parting whisper.
"Today you, tomorrow me."
I gave a small prayer of thanks to the giant. He had saved me from them.
***
*Seven Years Later*
"Matt!" My dad yelled from the other room. "Go take the trash out."
I sighed loudly, heading into the garage to look for the bags. I found them piled up in the corner, smelling much worse than I had expected. I heaved the first one onto my shoulder, it filled with metal trash and was rather heavy, opened the garage door, and headed towards the dumpster. With a small grunt, I heaved the large bag into the bin. It landed with a resounding clang.
*That was odd.* I thought. *Wasn't today Thursday? Shouldn't there be more trash?* Normally the bags of uneaten food would pad the ground. I shrugged it off, moving to pick up my family's bags of left over lunches and dinners. The bag was far lighter than expected, so when I picked it up, the motion caused the bag to rip.
A few maggots flew out of the bag, one landing on my foot. I jerked back, giving out a small scream as I scrambled to turn on the lights. My fumbling hands finally founds the switch, and as I went back to inspect the bag, I found that there was *no food* left, only a few maggots.
The maggots were dead, small bite sized marks leaving most of them completely disfigured.
I screamed again in shock, stepping back to look at the garage as a hole.
That's when I noticed it. There was a hole in the garage, the size of a soccer ball, that seemed to have been chewed into by something... I stood frozen with a mixture of fear and awe as I wondered how it could have happened. As I stood watching, a few small rays of light began to appear at the end of the tunnel, making me realize two things.
Whatever created that hole was still there, and going inside the house.
The only room with a light on was Luke's.
My two year old brother.
***
Part two coming here (as in this thread) in literally 15 minutes
[r/ConlehWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)!
| 2017-08-27T22:49:17 | 2017-08-27T22:11:20 | 392 | 33 |
[WP] You never kill the spiders in your home, you just whisper "today you, tomorrow me" when you set them outside. Now, in your most dire moment, an army of spiders arrives to have your back. | I heard the killer's steps echo across the basement. I tried to think of some last line to make sense of it all, to die with a semblance of honour. Instead, I just whimpered; the days of relentless torture had left me a shell of a man.
He strode toward me, relishing in the moment. He took great pleasure in watching me suffer, and today was no different. He pulled out his serrated blade, glinting in the light above the chair I was tied to.
"Looks like you're no fun anymore," he said, smiling wide and exposing his rotten teeth. He gripped the blade.
I heard a rustling, some kind of scurrying behind me. The light went out - but it hadn't turned off. Something- some*things* - were crawling across it.
I tried to scream, but I had no energy left.
Then I realised - they weren't after me.
They had finally come.
*My spiderbros.* | Well, it wasn't easy getting to like them. But it's a tangled web we weave.
Back in the day I used to put spiders outside instead of killing them. It was a habit I got used to. I guess as I got older I also turned into more a pacifist... maybe trying to make up for all the nasty things I had done in my youth. I would mumble a little prayer and toss the little bastards off into the night. My castle seemed to be littered with them. Felt like a magnet for the eight-legged. Maybe it was all the torches outside, attracting all sorts of bugs and the like.
I don't know.
All I know is today I heard a crier bell swinging loudly in the early morning. There was talks of a large squadron of Barbarians coming through the foothills, plundering all along the way. I gathered my few men, what several I had, and had them armored. I was to go out with them at Dawn. We started our crusade down to meet them. But as the sun began to rise I noticed a strange blackness still enveloping the countryside. It seemed to almost shudder and breathe. Then at once I saw the Barbarian horde on the distance. They were quick approaching, bearing steel with clenched teeth. All of a sudden, the blackness of the countryside moved with frightening speed, followed by hundreds of thousands of spiders through the castle behind me, and within a minute there were bloodcurdling screams of girlish terror sung into the early morn. The barbarians flee'd as quickly as they had advanced, dropping all weapons and belongings in their stead. I shuddered at the thought, but then remembered my old prayer...
"Today you, Tomorrow me."
Tangled wed indeed! | 2017-08-27T21:49:27 | 2017-08-27T21:38:39 | 197 | 72 |
[WP] As a detective, you've always had a bit of a leg up. You can speak to and interrogate paintings and photographs as witnesses to the crimes you investigate. Today's case should be easy, someone was murdered in a museum.
I'm posting a spooky prompt a day! This one is more intriguing than spooky. Keep in mind I never say what kind of museum. | I stood there, as the body had been investigated and was being covered up.
The victim was a local politician. He had risen to power quite quickly. People were pleased with his services, up until a few small incidents recently.
This guy was good. No fingerprints, no foot prints. The murder weapon was not found, but the body had stab marks on it. The painting hanging on the wall to my left had a disturbing reaction to all this.
"What are you smiling for, you sick fuck?" I asked.
"What are you talking about?" she said.
"Everyone can clearly see your grin".
"Can you not tell a grin from a frown?"
I excused her lack of empathy and got to questioning.
"Did you see the murderer? Can you tell me what they looked like?"
"I am not quite sure" she said, "I think it was a woman, but it might have been a man too"
Unable to get answers, I left Mona Lisa be and moved on to my next witness.
"What did the murderer look like?" I asked.
"What?" he said.
"WHAT DID THE MURDERER LOOK LIKE?"
He turned to his other side and asked, "Come again?"
I repeated my question, to which he replied
"I saw what he looked like, but you must be more specific with your questions"
"Hair color, eye color, clothes, things like that" I said.
"Hair color? White! Eye color? White! Clothes? White!"
"What do you mean 'eye color white'? Was he blind?"
"How would I know?" he said.
Van Gogh's self portrait was not much help either. I had decided to move on to my next witness, when I saw a painting on the ground, next to the wall, facing backwards. I picked it up and turned it around. It was an illustration of Sherlock Holmes.
"For how long have you been in this position?" I asked him.
"Since I woke up this morning" he said.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The murderer must have purposefully placed him like that. But how would he know about the paintings? Did he have the same powers as I do? I asked Mr. Holmes if he saw who did this to him. He said
"Not unlike humans, we also sleep, when the museum is closed. I'm afraid I was asleep".
I thought, this guy must have snuck in during the night. But then it hit me. All the clues I had gathered, how could I have been so blind? And the thing that surprised me the most was that the murderer was still in the building.
I confronted him.
"You too?" I asked to him, "You too?"
"I'm sorry it had to be this way" he said.
And thus, justice could not be served this time. Because I doubt that anybody at the police department would believe me if I told them the murderer was a statue of Brutus. | The colour of the blood contrasted starkly with the white marble tiles of the museum floor. The blood hadn't dried up completely yet; some of it was still streaming across the floor, as if a new painting was being created right there, instead of on the wall.
The man was sprawled on the ground in an odd angle, his legs and arms pointing in all directions, as if he was caught by total surprise.
He had been murdered right in front of a painting of a corpulent medieval monk, carrying a mug of ale and smiling heartily, apparently unaware of the horrific deed that had happened right in front of his still eyes.
Apparently...
A rippling sound disturbed the silence of the museum. The police ribbon was pulled out of the way as yet another police official entered the scene of the crime.
Yet this was no ordinary official. This man had made sure that he was quite alone, not wanting to be disturbed, and then did a very miraculous thing indeed: he ignored the body completely, instead faced the monk and addressed him.
'Evening, Bonaventure.'
Suddenly, the monk sprang to live. As if he had just been frozen in action, he pulled the mug of ale to his mouth, took a large swig, swallowed, and burped without shame. He was in fact quite drunk.
''Aaah, tis you professor. Horrible, ain' it? This fellow on the floor right here? Blood dripping like a fine wine, I say!''
He chuckled happily.
''Yes, quite amusing indeed,'' said the detective drily. ''Would you, perhaps, happen to know how this came about, my dear monk?''
The monk in the painting took another swig, dried his mouth with the sleeve of his robe, and licked his lips. ''You should've seen it, detective! Fell down like it was nothing! Was death before he hit the floor, I daresay.''
The detective sighed, gazing at the body for a moment. ''Yes, that's quite obvious. What I'm more interested in, Bonaventure, is who or what did it?''
Bonaventura looked at the detective as if he had just said the stupidest thing in the world. ''Well, I can hardly know, can I? I'm locked up in this frame, and until they figure out 3D paintings, I'm only looking straight forward!''
Meanwhile, the detective was finding this witness getting less and less useful by the minute. ''Anything you do know? Any sounds, smells?''
Bonaventura smiled and pointed at his mug. ''Only the sweet taste of ale and the sound of my overlarge belly swinging around in joy!''
The detective gave an even deeper sigh than before. He waved his hand carelessly in a dismissing sort of way. ''You're dismissed, monk, you can go back to your intoxicating and belly bouncing now.''
And just like that, the monk froze in his frame again, the smile not having faded from his face.
The detective scratched his small beard, deep in thought. He had literally nothing to go on. The victim had made the very unfortunate mistake to drop dead right in front of a drunk and also very stupid monk.
The art interrogator turned around, and found himself facing a painting of a group of naked people who seemed to be in the middle of what was unmistakably an orgy.
He looked at his watch. Midnight.
''What the heck, I've got all night,'' he sighed, and he addressed a woman who was riding a man like a horse rider.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
**Let me know if you would like to see more!**
| 2017-10-07T04:27:58 | 2017-10-07T03:51:29 | 56 | 24 |
[WP] You're a regular office worker born with the ability to "see" how dangerous a person is with a number scale of 1-10 above their heads. A toddler would be a 1, while a skilled soldier with a firearm may score a 7. Today, you notice the reserved new guy at the office measures a 10. | "And you see, Miss Spencer, that's why I no longer eat corn."
Robert finished his story with a large breath from his oxygen deprived lungs and sat back in his chair. He looked quite satisfied with having ruined my lunch hour due to his stomach churning medical tale.
I pushed my salad away and politely smiled.. "That's nice Bob." I said, glancing at the 7 above his head.
Robert was the oldest of the employees at the office, and the most dangerous in terms of my creepy number scale vision. When I first met him, I couldn't help being on edge. I'd never met anyone with a danger level above an 8. I came to find out that old Bob was a war veteran and participating in this medial work kept him sane. He was harmless, just physically capable of hurting someone if he wanted. I figure if he ever were to snap his number would sky rocket to a 10.
"Jill! Jill!" Kerry's face poked around the corner, her blonde hair a curly mess around her face. I've learned from my 21 years of existence that the number my gift sees is based off of a mixture of physical and mental danger. My dear friend Kerry is a whooping combined number of 2. Needless to say she's a pushover and overly nice.
She's the only one that knows of my secret. When I told her about it she wouldn't leave me alone, asking me question after question. She wanted to know everyone's number; including my own. Which is the only one I cannot see. Of course I don't consider myself dangerous, but I wish I knew what the universe numbered me.
I excused myself from Bob's presence and met a gleeful Kerry in the hallway. "What's up?" I asked.
"You know how they hired that new guy?" I nodded, "Well guess who gets to train him?" She smiled widely.
I grinned along with her. Kerry loves when she's given large tasks. It makes her feel like people like her.
"That's great Ker!" We began to walk side by side towards the cubicles. "Let's meet him then."
"I'm not gonna lie, he's kinda cute and super polite. I'm just so happy I get to do this. Did you know-" I started to tune out her rambling as we rounded the corner.
It was then that I saw him.
A tall man, lean with neatly styled brown hair and dark eyes. A spinning 10 above his head.
He looked right at me.
My blood ran cold. My entire body froze and my face drained of color. Our eyes were locked across the room and it was only after my initial panic that I noticed he was having the same reaction. He was white as a ghost and his eyes were as wide as saucers.
"What the hell?! Jill? Is he dangerous?! Jill!" Kerry was babbling shrilly besides me and grabbing onto my arm. I ignored her.
"He's a 10.." I said under my breath. At almost the same moment I saw his lips move.
"She's a 10." He said.
And that was it. We were sucked in.
| I caught Sally just as she was heading to the break room and told her that we needed to talk.
"No, *I* need to get coffee," she responded, a flaming red 6 swiveling above her head."*You* need to get your hands off of my arm before I get you charged with sexual harassment."
I let go, and followed her into the break room.
"Coffee?" she offered.
"Nah," I declined, grabbing my own cup. "You might try to poison it."
"Try?" she laughed. "That's funny. Anyway, what was it that we *needed* to talk about."
"The new guy," I said, sliding closer and lowering my voice to make sure we weren't overheard. "Did you notice anything, I don't know, *different* about him?"
"Different?" She continued to work on her coffee. "No."
"How does he seem to you."
"Quiet, but cute," she replied, turning to give me a mischievous look. "I wonder if he's single."
"Like its stopped you before," I muttered.
Her eyes flashed and she turned away. "You seem, oh, I don't know...jealous?"
I frowned, recoiling back a bit o get my bearings. Then I barked with laughter. "Jealous?! Ha! As if!"
The door opened and the new guy slid inside, looking at us with his hand on the doorknob. "Leave it closed or open?" he asked - the Big 10 above his head as black as the bottom of a cauldron.
Sally answered, "Be a dear and close it for me, hun. Then come get your coffee," she said, flirtation heavy in her voice. "I made it extra sweet with lots of cream" she added, glancing over her shoulder at him.
He was immune. "Thanks, but I like it black," he said, grabbing his own cup and standing behind me.
"Actually, you can go ahead of me," I said, stepping aside. He nodded his thanks and took my spot.
The door opened again and our boss walked in - an independent, middle aged woman that looked like she was still in her early 20's. A green 6 rotated slowly above her head.
"Oh, there you are!" she exclaimed, fixing her eyes solely on the new guy. "I was actually looking for you. I need help with something in my office. Would you mind?" she asked, though it was clear she was ordering. She even had the door already open to escort him out.
He frowned a bit, conflicted between his duty to obey the boss and his desire for a cup of coffee. The former option won out and he set his cup down reluctantly, walking out the held-open door.
Maybe it was my imagination, but it looked to me like the boss had looked at his ass and licked her lips as she closed the door behind them.
As soon as the door clicked close, Sally turned to me and whisper-shouted, "Did you see that? She was totally coming on to him! That bitch better not touch him or I swear..." she muttered, taking an angry sip from her cup.
Suddenly, I had a suspicion.
I ran to the door, opened it, and peered out. The entire office of women were either already making their way over to the new guy or watching with clear lust in their eyes from a distance.
Sally brushed by me with the cup of coffee still in her hands, steamrolling her way over to the new guy and the boss, who was trying to order the other women back to work - and failing.
*Oh, boy,* I thought, sharing a head shake with the few of the guys nearby who made eye contact. *If this guy has this effect on women, we're all in trouble.*
| 2017-12-08T13:03:32 | 2017-12-08T09:04:27 | 126 | 65 |
[WP] You are a criminal who has performed a horrible crime. You were put to death by lethal injection. Turns out this injection simply knocked you out so you could be taken to a gov't agency where death row criminals carry out dangerous tasks in exchange for being spared. | I remember the day I killed my wife. I had caught her cheating countless times, and that day I walked in on her and my brother going at it in our bedroom. I killed them both in a fit of rage with the shotgun I kept in my wife and I’s bedroom for protection from intruders.
When I finally stopped shooting and came to my senses, I found myself in a room covered in blood splatter with two horribly disfigured naked corpses. I had shot each of them 4 times. I was horrified and I instantly regretted my action. When I got picked up by the police I knew I was toast. I really don’t know why I didn’t just plead guilty when it went to court. I was hoping they’d charge me with second-degree murder, but they got me on first-degree and I live in Texas, where capital punishment might as well be an Olympic sport.
I was sentenced to death. But I vowed that I would never kill another human being again up through the day I died.
Well, today is the 2-year anniversary of the day i officially “died”. I’m 30 now, and I committed the crime when I was 24 and was sentenced when I was 26. So I “died” at age 28 according to the government.
My “afterlife” consists of working out, eating, drinking, training, and fighting. I now fight for a living, and I only fight other “dead” people. And my payment consists solely of having my life spared by the government. Here’s the catch though: the fights are to the death. It brings a whole new meaning to the phrase “survive and advance.” The people who make money off it are anyone who works in the legal system; they all either bet on or even groom fighters.
It’s known as the “Zombie Games” amongst those in the legal system. And here’s the thing: I’m really good at it. We have to fight every other day, and I’ve survived for two years. In fact, I’m convinced that killing people with my bare hands and fighting for my life is probably my greatest talent.
The problem is, I’m breaking the promise I made to myself ALL THE TIME. This is not what I want my talent to be, and not how I want to live my life.
So tonight will be both my last fight and my last night on Earth. I’m gonna give a giant middle finger to the system and throw this one. Everyone’s got their money on me, and the more I bleed, the more money they lose. So tonight, I exit this living Hell. Maybe I’ll see these suckers in the next one.
EDIT: Removed the phrase "after I committed double-murder". | Every letter I received in my twenty-nine years told me to read more.
"Keep your mind free."
And I did.
I read about some older people in Japan who made the ultimate sacrifice. They volunteered to clean a radioactive site knowing they'd get cancer.
But they were old.
Near death.
And the closest thing to saints I've ever heard of.
*****
Horace didn't chew once. He bit into the burger, his lips spread into a widening smile, and he swallowed. His coughing brought the eyes of a watchful guard, but the beer, which evoked an equally wide smile, washed down the beef.
"You gotta relax," an older man said. "I know you're used to slop, but we eat well here. You can chew your food without gagging."
Horace nodded and swallowed more beer. His next bite was more measured, but the smile was just as wide. Four burgers were piled onto his plate, each with different toppings and condiments, and the steam from the fries on his second plate rose lazily in the candle-lit dining hall.
After years of harsh orange and cold chains, the compound seemed a resort. The guards weren't the rejected cops and divorced abusers from the prison, the rooms weren't barred and angry, and the food was food.
Edible.
Horace grimaced and growled when one of the guards placed a ketchup bottle on the table. The guard gave an easy smile and raised his hands, palms out.
"Just thought you might like some," he said before nodding to the older gentleman and walking to another table where a group of men sat playing cards. He took his seat and snatched his cards from the table, eyeing each man with a devious smile that begged competition.
Reluctantly, Horace reached for the bottle and made a spot in the fries for the ketchup.
"You gotta relax," the old man repeated.
*****
I had watched them drive Horace into the compound. Instead of barbed wire, the property was surrounded by a wooden fence whose height suggested a need for privacy or secrecy. It was my job to sit in the little booth and open the double gate, and I waved to the smiling guard who drove the compact car that puttered through. Horace was in the backseat. We locked eyes for a moment, and I saw what I always see.
He was wondering if this was Hell.
*****
The older man was dressed in camo pants with a black shirt and cap. He carried a duffel bag that sagged at the seams, and his worry-knit brows regarded each man carefully. Most of his wariness was reserved for Horace. He'd watched the newest recruit gulp and belch for weeks, but it wasn't until an early morning in the gym that he understood why Horace was chosen.
The weights were too heavy.
Everyone knew it.
Horace didn't stop.
The old man nodded a sage understanding to the guards and planned the job with Horace in mind. His job was simple. Once the team reached the electrified wire fence, behind which a drug lord had built a mansion, Horace would grab hold and grip until it shorted. A kidnapped child had convinced a man inside to open the gate, but a distraction was needed.
The old man almost chuckled at the irony.
*****
r/10Kperfection | 2017-12-16T22:29:58 | 2017-12-16T20:38:16 | 64 | 16 |
[WP] "You... you, did all of this... for a pun?" | “Punnen! Punnen it burns!” his wife screamed in agony. The sores had begun to cover her face...the same sores that had plagued him for the last couple of weeks.
Punnen kept his eyes on his work. Doing his best to drown out the intruding sound, he continued pruning back the overgrowth in his prized garden. It was hard work, keeping his plants trimmed this meticulously. No one understood. No one but Punnen.
“You slept with her didn’t you,” she spat, “that seed vendor from the market? The one you are always carrying on with?” She began to cry softly.
“I am so sorry,” Punnen said slowly, his voice but a whisper. “I just couldn’t help myself.” He gestured toward the corner of his garden at a small sproutling. “I am a man who takes what he wants, and as a result I now have her peas.”
“You... you, did all of this... for a pun?” she managed, her voice wavering.
No... Punnen tended. | Til Death Do Us Part One
Marriage. It truly is the lowest form of all relationships. It's made a punch line out of me, and I'm not laughing. Oh no. Not today. Today, it's time for revenge.
I have it straight from the freezer, and I watch the frost melt into a sickly puddle of hate and anger. That's the problem. You have to have it cold, or it's just not worth serving.
My wife walks into the room. Well hello darling? How was your day darling? I love you darling? Nope. Not a word. We were happy, or rather, happier, once upon a time. Twenty five years of relative bliss. That was before we met, obviously.
I was cruelly divorced from my laughable misconceptions. Hopes dashed and dreams forgotten. Dig after dig, and before I knew it, our relationship was sent to an early grave.
Marriage. To you, it's a word. To me, it's been a sentence. To her, well, it had a nice ring to it, didn't it?
I've always been obsessed with wordplay. With puns. And it's been my kryptonite. It all started with a simple joke. I should have known how bad she would be for me when she laughed at it.
"Excuse me, do you have a pen? Then you'd better get back to it before the farmer notices you're gone..."
Not particularly funny, or kind. Not even my own line. But she laughed, and it was all over. I've done this... all of this. Fifty years of marriage, for a fucking pun...
(Feedback always appreciated!)
r/samfoxstories
| 2018-02-05T07:14:32 | 2018-02-05T06:47:00 | 663 | 61 |
[WP] Two immortals settle a dispute through a deathmatch, not realizing the other is immortal. It's been twenty years and they're still at it. | "You know," John sighed, breaking a loaf of bread in half, "I have a confession to make."
It was a small nod that encouraged him to continue.
"I'm starting to think that you might be immortal."
Ramseys paused over his lunch and considered the allegation. The two of them had been at this for a damned long time, come to think of it. So long he wasn't even sure why anymore. Some kind of disagreement. Something important, for them to try to kill each other for 20-something years.
"I suppose you might be on to something. Though then I'd have to accuse you as well. I guess it evens the playing field, at least."
John chuckled at that, and, using a knife, spread some jam on his bread before stabbing Ramseys in the hand.
"Now now, we called lunch truce, remember?"
"Sorry. Old habits die hard."
"Rather like us." Ramseys plucked the knife from his hand, absently watching the wound close before it could even bleed. "By the way, the jam's poisoned."
"Thought it tasted off," John chewed and swallowed. "Arsenic?"
"I know it's your favorite."
"Well, it does have a unique note to it. But back to the matter at hand. What are we going to do about the death match, then?"
"That's a fair question. Do you even remember what we were fighting about?"
John pursed his lips, staring at the ceiling. "Wasn't it Priscilla? Wasn't the winner going to marry her?"
"Hell, that's a dumb thing for two immortals to fight over. She's probably dead or married now anyway."
"Shit, you're probably right." | I'd known I couldn't trust him, deep down. His way of life was different from mine. There was something about him that screamed out against me, wanting to crush me under his boots. Back then, I was so carefree. I'd just emerged stronger through many struggles against the neighbourhood bully, a little scarred but less so than my friends. I'd gotten to show everyone just how strong I was and how I shouldn't be messed with, to the extent of completely wrecking one of the fools that had decided to be contrarian with me.
But this black-robed fellow. What made him tick? There had to be a loose end somewhere, something that would make him collapse. I should know; I'd helped him get to where he was and more. I'd helped him fight the big bully that wouldn't give him reprieve. Till now, though, I couldn't fathom his subsequent betrayal. And every time I struck, he managed to escape and reform somewhere. Maybe not stronger than I; fortunately that was still a very high bar to cross. But he knew my own weak spots. He knew when to strike when I was down, when I was not vigilant. Yet I always came back to fight. Every time I thought I had him beat, he was up and about it again sooner than later. Every time he beat me, it was not enough to cripple me beyond repair.
Was it my own doing that I had to fight him? In my darkest moments I asked that armor-piercing question. Maybe I was wrong to begin with. Maybe I should have given up, or should give up soon. Maybe some unseen, selfish force is profiting off of seeing me and him fight. These questions are becoming more and more riotous, more and more common.
But my name is Uncle Sam. It's been more than twenty years since my boots touched the deserts. I dust the sand off of my red, white and blue suit. No matter how much I detest it, I must get out there into the desert and fight this deathmatch tomorrow. For my way of life. For that fleeting chance of victory. Leave the thinking to later, when I can get these voices out of my head, when I can be coherent. Now, I must fight. That is true discipline, and that will remain constant even if, as I'm starting to think, him and I are immortal. Are we? It doesn't matter. The conflict itself is immortal, and there is no escape but discipline. | 2018-03-12T08:21:05 | 2018-03-12T05:46:59 | 277 | 20 |
[WP] Humans blood gets darker the more evil we do. One day you are suspected of murder, they draw your blood to test if you are truely a murderer. You blood is a clear white. You realize that you can get a way with almost everything now, seeing as to how you actually did commit the murder. | "You're free to go," they said. Confused, I look over at the vial, expecting a dark red, but instead, it was full of perfectly white blood. My mind is racing. Why wasn't it darker? I know that I'm guilty, and that I should be being rushed into a top-security police vehicle on my way to trial. But I do know one thing. I have to leave before I mess things up by talking, so I get up, sign out, and go home. I lay on my bed, dizzy and overwhelmed. I process things over in my mind, realizing that I can probably get away with other things, but I'll still have to be careful. I decide that I need to relax before I should do anything else, so I pull out my phone and scroll through Reddit. Inspired, I go to r/WritingPrompts, and begin to lazily type a post: "[WP] Humans blood gets darker the more evil we do. One day you are suspected of murder, they draw your blood to test if you are truely a murderer. You blood is a clear white. You realize that you can get a way with almost everything now, seeing as to how you actually did commit the murder." I hit enter, and suddenly, I am overcome with a tingling sensation. I look down, and watch as my veins turn black. I have committed the worst sin known to man. Instead of typing "Your blood is a clear white," I typed, "You blood is a clear white." I have made a spelling mistake. | A glimmer of sweat ran down from my eyebrow as they drew the blood from my arm. The small prick that could lead to life behind bars, or walking away from it all was about to enter my skin. And I didn’t know which one it was going to be. This better work, I thought to myself as the nurse prepared the small vials. I shifted a bit in my seat, glancing around at the bright white walls surrounding me. My sentence or release was a mere minute away. I felt a sting in my arm. The nurse had started. As much as I wanted to know, I had to look away. Even if my freedom was on the line, I still couldn’t stand the sight of blood. I waited a few seconds, and suddenly I felt the needle pull out. It was over. What now? Before I had a chance to react, I felt the straps came undone that had been over me. “You’re good to go,” The nurse said. A rush of euphoria filled me as I began to stand up. I did it. I am the first person to get away with murder in over thirty years. I acted cumbersome as I stumbled out of the hospital. Left and right police were apologising to me, and I couldn’t help but trip over my words as I walked free. I exited the hospital, and it was there that I remembered what I had to do now. I was in debt. My stomach dropped.
Two weeks after my release- The dye had worked according to plan, and I was back to living my normal life. Things were simple. I made my meals, did my chores, and went to work. Still, in the back of my mind, I knew things would soon change drastically. I also knew that in exchange for that dye, I had also sold my life. It was worth it. There’s no telling what would have happened to me in prison. See, since they can check a person’s blood, and determine their guilt 100%, that person becomes worthless to them. They mangle, torture, and starve them with no remorse. All a prisoner is, is the crime they committed. I checked my watch, 1530. I was supposed to meet my dealer that night. | 2018-04-30T12:04:07 | 2018-04-30T12:03:40 | 31 | 18 |
[WP] Once upon a time, aliens sent a virulent poison to Earth in hopes of clearing the planet for their own habitation. Hundreds of years later, they're back, and shocked that we're not only alive, but actually are eating/drinking their poison en masse. | A new planet was designated for our expansion, around a brand new red dwarf star. The third planet had been detected as suitable, in 2-3 billion years that is. The star had to stabilise and there were many celestial objects nearby that had to be watched. The length of time didn't matter however, we were immortal after all and it was just a matter of waiting.
An early survey team discovered a variety of microbes already existing on the planet. Not entirely unwelcome, but any of them could evolve unchecked into an entity that might destabilise the planet. Our scientists came up with a plan. If we flooded the atmosphere with the deadliest substance known to us, it would preserve the planet in it's current state indefinitely. We worked out that exactly 24% of this substance, when mixed with the natural nitrogen of the atmosphere already present, would result in complete sterilisation of the planet until reversed.
"The Scourge" we were labelled by other, less prolific races. After maturity we didn't age or die like so many other species we encountered. Our carapace was almost impenetrable to most forms of projectiles. Our main weakness was food. We could easily out-breed our own capability to provide for ourselves. So we developed space flight and took to the stars in vessels much like this one. Great cavernous ships filled to the brim with billions of my kind. I stood watching the small blue dot slowly get larger as we approached it. Blue though? After this much time it should be a muddy brown. The same colour as our exoskeleton, as the deadly toxin did it's work. It should have decayed all metal and corroded all living substances. Something was wrong.
A large explosion rocks the vessel. Suddenly our environmental methane is being sucked out into the void of space. Warning alarms are sounding all over as safety measures attempt to close the hole. Millions of my kind are dead or evacuated by the time the hull is sealed. Our defenses come online to protect against any other attacks. We had been complacent, we thought we were safe. Suddenly our communications array lights up as intercepted radio waves are decoded and put through our universal translator.
"This is the Earth Empire. You have entered Earth Space. Retreat or be annihilated."
I have no words. This Earth Empire was new to me. I hadn't even heard of Earth before. I quickly scan through all of the hundreds of thousand of species I had encountered, but to no avail. They were new, but where did they come from. I command a trace of the missile trajectory, hoping to find a hidden ship or space station, a competitive species perhaps.
I check the trajectory and it originated from the planet. Impossible. The planet should be dead, unless another race had gotten to it before us. Out of the billions of planets in the galaxy, this one should have gone unnoticed. I quickly focus the scanners on the planet, any sign of terraforming should be obvious.
The scan registers the planet as we had left it, with only minor shifts in composition. The oxygen content had dropped to 20%, the other 4% had been absorbed into hydrogen, covering 70% of the planet in the horrific H2O compound which was deadly to all life. The planet hadn't been terraformed after all, which would mean, no that's impossible. The Earth Empire would have to be inhabiting the planet!
I quickly enhance the scan, piercing the veil of the atmosphere, revealing the ground below. Signs of life are everywhere. Lush green plants cover most of the land where the poisonous blue ocean doesn't cover. Thousands of cities stretch high into the sky. This planet didn't just have life, it was teeming with it.
I quickly give the order to retreat as another missile plummets into our defences. They managed to not just thrive in the environment but also turn it against us. Combusted carbon leaks into our vessel, choking thousand of us. I direct the vessel to close that chamber off and jettison it into space. Sure, another million may die, but the species will live. Our ponderous vessel slowly turns away from the planet, attempting to survive.
I make a note in the computer. Never journey back to this planet, Earth. I upgrade the classification from dangerous to forbidden. I will make sure that we never return to this planet containing the most horrific species we have ever met. The death survivors. The oxygen breathers. The Earthlings.
But the most horrific thing of all, the thought deep down, is that we created them. | The station had three bars, but only one that didn't have a depressive Hyperklaxonian smothering a grand piano and gurgling bad Billy Joel covers through the fluted valves at the top of its head. Avalon Karl had just bellied up to the darkest end of the brushed titanium bar and begun considering the rows of liquors (almost exclusively all native Earth brands), when a black hatted Earthman waved him over to a table in the back. Curious, Avalon Karl glided over to the table.
"Avalonian?" said the Earthman. "Riggs. Chuck Riggs. Pleasure to meet you."
The man named Riggs offered his right forepaw, which Avalon Karl brushed graciously with his center articulated joint.
"Have a seat," said Riggs, gesturing towards the other side of the table. "Or...err...a hover."
"This is a lovely space station," said Avalon Karl, who had always been poor at small talk, especially with terrestrials. "Very well lit."
"She's somethin'," said Riggs, rapping the center of the table with his knuckle and whistling in the general direction of the bartender. "Tariff payed, tariff laid, we like to say." He laughed, which Avalon Karl understood meant something had tickled the Earthman.
"Yes, tariffs are a form of tax," said Avalon Karl. "Taxes generate income. Very funny. Your Earth humor is very keen."
"Uh...yeah," mumbled Riggs. "I guess I'm just sayin' trade with you all Avalonians' been good to us back on Earth. I'm a businessman, you see? I appreciate a good deal."
"Yes," said Avalon Karl as the bartender dropped two narrow glasses full of bright blue liquid on the table. "We have had a long, long fascination with Earth, extending well prior to our present economic arrangements."
"Oh, don't I know," laughed Riggs, pulling a small black and silver device out of his inner pocket.
"Yes, actually it's a bit embarrassing now," said Avalon Karl, hovering cautiously over his neon blue cocktail. "You see, quite some time ago we craved to possess Earth for ourselves."
"You've got a good eye," said Riggs, playing with the device.
"Yes, well, in this case I suppose I'm glad our machinations fell apart," said Avalon Karl. "We had hoped to clear Earth of all intelligent life. We were...quite surprised to return all this time later to find you not only well, but thriving."
"It was a flawed scheme, I suppose," said Riggs, holding up the box. He touched a screen and a small, tinny computerized voice spoke a single word, over and over. The Earthman grinned, though there was no humor in his face. Even Avalon Karl could see that. "We were supposed to go mad, right? Kill each other? Decimation from within. Fight until the last man drops, eh?"
Avalon Karl shifted slightly in his hovering crouch. "I do suppose it was silly," he said at last. "Though we did spend a good deal of time developing this particular weapon. It seemed just the thing to separate mankind fully and completely. But I guess the calculations...the research...they were all..."
"Foolishness," said Riggs, silencing the device. "Pure foolishness. As if you never understood us at all."
"You saw through our scheme," said Avalon Karl, feeling a ping of resentment for the ineptitude of his forebears. "I see now that the human resolve is made of firmer stuff than we had been led to believe."
"Exactly," said Riggs, with a satisfied nod. "We saw right through it. You only managed to bring us Yannys together. And let me tell you, we *crushed* the Laurels. It was over in a year. Them and their heathen ears - wiped off the face of the Earth."
Avalon Karl dipped a little in his hover. "I'm sorry, you what?"
"You thought the disagreement would pull humanity apart and bring us to ruin?" said Riggs, leaning back in his chair. "But you underestimated the power and the truth of Yanny."
"Oh," said Avalon Karl. "That was...you know that was an auditory mirage, right? Half of you were supposed to hear Yanny and the other half was supposed to hear Laurel. We worked really hard on that. It was really quite clever."
"Laurel was a false god," said Riggs, downing the entirely of his cocktail in one gulp. "There is only Yanny."
"Ah. Yes. Okay. Oh no! I forgot I have a space meeting." Avalon Karl glided purposefully away from the table. "Pleasure to meet you. Let's do this again sometime. Okay. Going now."
In truth, though he would facilitate many trade deals with the Yanny People over the years, Avalon Karl never did do "this" again with the Earthman known as Chuck Riggs. Neither was too bothered by that. | 2018-05-17T00:50:47 | 2018-05-16T20:26:23 | 78 | 35 |
[WP]The pagan gods watch with amusement as humanity still remember them by naming their mightiest vessels after them, long after they stopped worshiping them. When war against aliens break out, the old gods subtly aid the humans, not wanting the last homage to them to be taken lightly. | The halls of Valhalla ring silent
Those worthy long lost to the past
Olympus lies fallen and empty
In stature and power surpassed
&#x200B;
The sun spins eternal in orbit
Carried not by Apollos or Ras
But the ironclad laws of Sir Newton
One of a billion bright stars
&#x200B;
For Man has grown upward and outward
No longer needs He to believe
In powers of faith and of fancy
He trusts only what he can perceive
&#x200B;
But the ancients were wise beyond mesure
As sages would often exclaim
'Tis truth that still rings through the ages
"Such power that lies in a name!"
&#x200B;
For Shiva wields trident no longer
And Xolotl guards more than the deep
Old Perun calls soldiers to order
For Aeron has more foes to reap
&#x200B;
Uncountable legends race outwards
Those of Avalon, Asgard and more
Cast in hope girded thickly with iron
On the wings of a nuclear core
&#x200B;
Across alien skies they burn brightly
Carried far from Dilmun and Duat
For the old gods look after their children
And all hells wait for those who attack.
&#x200B; | (This actually fits into my worldbuilding project yaaay!)
An stood up from his throne and the whisperings in the hall stopped in that very moment.
"Brothers! Sisters! We have stood vigil over our mortal kind longer than we care admit. But this time we must intervene - he raised a finger - albeit subtly..."
He couldn't finish his sentence as countless of his brothers and sisters stood up in anger and disgust. The Old Thor was the first one to speak:
"Subtly?! I say we open the gates of Valhall and fight the final war!" - many transhuman deities nodded.
Mars was the next one to speak, he aged a lot since his favourite son conquered Gaul:
"It has been tens of thousands of years since I last marched to war! We have legions of the greatest warriors at our command, we must enslave these uncivilised barbarians"
One of the eldest among them, Odin was the next to speak up, his deep voice quickly silenced the growing unrest:
"Silence! Think children, think! These aliens must have beings like us! Their race is much younger than ours! There is no way we could win a confrontation against them! - he chuckled - Albeit... Ragnarök must happen!"
One of his ravens returned to his shoulder and the Allfather chuckled once more.
"I'm sure all of you know of the organisation known as the Foundation. Those mortals have the technology to win this war, but as soon as the xenos start losing their gods will join the fight, and that is when we must reveal ourselves! The halls of Valhalla must remain closed, for now. "
The grand doors of the hall burst open, and many younger deities stood in disbelief, as the single mortal slowly walked in. His voice could only be heard through the speakers of his power armour, he was clearly ready to draw.
" But you will let just a few of the greatest minds of the halls join us. I have a list, you will comply, "
The Allfather smirked under his beard.
" We were expecting you, Arcanil."
| 2019-01-31T23:45:50 | 2019-01-31T21:21:27 | 48 | 25 |
[WP] Medieval times, a woman is accused by villagers of being a witch and she is put in a cage to drown, after 3 minutes she is not dead so they burn her at the stake but she survives that too, villagers now realize they finally found a real witch and don’t know what to do next... | The angry mob surrounded the stake built to burn the witch who stood, bound and disheveled, upon it.
The woman herself, Ana was her name, had arrived to their village only a few months before - presenting herself as a healer via herbs and medicine.
William stood amongst the crowd and thought it an honest shame she had been discovered as a witch. It was her suspicious success rate at healing diseases and ailments, and devilish beauty that gave her away. That and her eyes; pools of mossy green but with an undertone of molten gold.
It really wasn't fair, he thought. She was only trying to help and save people. Granted, she had saved William's young daughter from a wicked cough the previous month which may have made him slightly biased.
Ana stood tall and proud before the villagers, which was quite a feat considering her ragged appearance; clothed in a filthy torn shift, her wild black hair tangled and knotted around her face.
Enraged shouts came from all around the crowd. "Devil's whore!" They yelled. "Blasphemous woman". But William saw something different.
"I Suppose you're going to come up with new ways to try and kill me?" Ana sneered at the villagers.
"I do wish you would get on with it, I find myself rather bored of this charade."
The fear behind the villager's fury was evident, their multiple attempts to end the witch's life had been vastly unsuccessful. Stones tied to her feet and dumped in the nearby river, the witch resurfaced after hours unharmed, only looking mildly annoyed. Swords and knives appeared to only tickle her. Flames made sweat bead on her brow, and burned away her clothes, but had no other affect. The mob had tried hanging, quartering, beheading, strangling, beating and branding her. All attempts only causing her to look more and more bored with the events.
"You will burn in hell for your sins, Witch!" Spat the noble Lord who governed the village. The threat lacked conviction, however, as it was clear he was running out of ideas. The witch had remained bound on the stake for hours now, whilst the Lord asked the peasants for suggestions.
"Oh but I won't, poor Lord. You have no way to end my life. I think I've entertained you all long enough, and now I wish to take my leave of this place" the witch said, straining against the many ropes that bound her. To the villagers horror, the thick twine snapped like the flimsiest of strings and the witch discarded them. She straightened, haughty and, William thought, devastatingly beautiful, and began to simply walk away towards the lands outside of the villages territory. She levelled a smirk back to the Lord and asked "Who in this village will stop me?".
Not one person made a move against her, and William could not help but admire the hold she commanded over the people, noble men and peasants alike. Besotted with her arrogance and grace, he wanted nothing more than to follow her to the ends of the earth.
Ana's enchanting eyes fell on him - that cocky smirk still on her full lips, and William felt a force rooting him to the spot. *your daughter still needs your care to fully recover, master William.* he heard in Ana's voice inside his head, as he could do nothing but watch her saunter away, chin held high against the cacaphony of insults and threats hurled at her back.
----------------------------------
| Considering how much people around here went in for that sort of thing there were surprisingly few official ways to kill a witch. Generally you just picked the one most suitable to your readily available equipment and had at before moving on with the rest of your life. The preacher had never heard of anyone surviving one of the ordeals, let alone all of them.
"So we were just wondering if you had new any ones father?"
"New ones?" asked the preacher shakily as he looked up from the the very thorough documentation this little town's mayor had handed him.
"New ways of killing witches, father. Only Davey, the butcher's boy, visited the city about a year ago and said they had impaled some witches in the town square. We hadn't heard of that one before and he said it worked a treat on their witches so we woke Margret up and asked if we could try it. She said it's been years since a man woke her up to ask that and we said no not like that and then she winked at poor Lambert, who's never had much luck with the ladies what with his tooth, and said maybe if we've got time we can try it both ways. Anyway it didn't work so we let her go again but since you're the first man from up that way we've had down here in a while we were wandering if you boys had thought up anything better than impaling?" the mayor smiled happily at his story then quickly added, "if it's no bother father".
The preacher had barely heard a word but had instead returned to the paper work. It was titled "The execution of Margret Thaxley" in very neat calligraphy. The only other writing on the front of the document were the words "vol 1" below the title in charcoal. He put it down.
"You let her go?" he asked slowly.
"Yes father. She's got a cottage just outside town, see, and we've only got three cells. Also the sergeant says she snores something fierce."
"Why not drive her out, burn the cottage to the ground? God lord man there is a witch on your door step spreading who knows what corruption into the soil and cavorting with the unspeakable from beyond while you do nothing."
"Nothing?" exclaimed the Mayor, indignantly rising to his feet. The preacher noticed that at some point he had also stood. There was cold sweat on the back of his neck. "Not nothing father. Read the paper work. Anyway we did burn the cottage down. She just made us put it back up. And she's not as bad as all that. We'd be a lot busier round here if not for the tinctures she makes for the young ladies. We put the work in father but life must go on."
The preacher laid his hand upon his book. It felt hot to his touch. As he began to mutter the words he lifted it from his belt. The Mayor opened his mouth to speak but before he could blue fire began to ark between the pages and the preacher's robe snapped back in a gale that touched only him. From the crease of the book emerged a hilt. With his free hand the preacher reached for it and as his skin touched the grip that same blue fire writhed up his arm, flaying the cloth from his body and leaving his arm marked not by wounds but immediate scars. Grimacing in pain the preacher pulled and the blade emerged, its edge shimmering like quicksilver in the light of its own fire. With a gasp the preacher dropped the book and the last of the blue flames earthed themselves through him making him stagger. The Mayor had not yet closed his mouth. When the preacher looked at him he looked away. The blue fire danced in the preacher's eyes where pupils should be.
"I think it's about time I meet this Margret"
...
The Mayor licked his quill. He wasn't sure how to start and it had been a rather spectacular day. He looked across the desk at his guest and put down the quill. Writing could wait for tomorrow.
"Okay father," he said as politely as he could "Let's try this: one croak for yes and two for no" | 2019-02-12T03:38:39 | 2019-02-12T03:22:18 | 412 | 276 |
[WP] You, a novice necromancer, accidentally discovered a new and more effective way of using your magic - politely ask the dead for assistance, which works suprisingly well. For this, you are hunted by both your fellow necromancers(for your unorthodox methods) and paladins(for using necromancy). | Lyle had grown weary of seeing the world upside-down. His feet hung from the noose shoddily put together by the Paladin on his trail for the past day.
"Do you mind saving me the trouble of hanging here and put an end to my misery?" Lyle muttered wearily as he eyed the Paladin sitting by his makeshift fire.
"Those necromancers hiding out in Lionsberg will pay a pretty penny for your secrets. I've heard all about your strange ways." The paladin grunted as he put his hands towards the fire.
"Aren't Paladins supposed to hunt Necromancers? Why would you want to help them out by handing me over?" Lyle had been mulling over this question as he was strung up by the Man hours earlier with his hands tied behind his back. Paladins weren't particularly fond of Necromancy after the Faith had recently called for bounties on the heads of any sort of black magic wielders.
"I wouldn't call myself the average Paladin. Now quit your yapping and get yer rest. No doubt those filthy mages will be picking your brain come morning." The sun had set over the past hour and there was little doubt that the Paladin had been exhausted from his day's hunt. Lyle's crime was that of going town to town and hunting down any troublesome spirits and ridding that town of their presence. Little did many know, save for a few holy folk, that Lyle had been amicably communicating with the dead and hearing out their problems.
Oddly enough, the only thing the dead really wanted was to be heard. Once their grievances were aired to Lyle, he would carry out any last wishes they had and then send them on their way. Word seemed to carry out throughout the realm of the dead of Lyle's deeds and many of them sought Lyle out for his gift of communication.
The Paladin eventually nodded off to sleep while the fire burned itself out slowly. Lyle began swaying off to sleep himself after spending the last hour begging for help from any spirit within range.
"I've really gotten myself into a rut this time. Any fool can raise the dead, but no one can really hear them." Lyle's eyes slowly closed until he heard a rustling sound coming from the brush behind him. Lyle slowly shifted his weight and swayed around until he came face to face with a small. shapeless glowing entity before him. The shape eyed him with two glowing white eyes and an oval-like bodice. Lyle stared at it a moment and then whispered something under his breath. Slowly, the shape began to shift into that of a person. A girl began to form, short of stature with long, colorless hair lining down her shoulders. She appeared to be around the same age as Lyle. Her body and clothing remained white as a long, bloody stain across her gown began to take shape.
“You must be the one everyone’s been talking about recently.” The ghostly girl smiled slightly as she spoke.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m hanging here. I’m afraid it’s a long and fretful story.” Lyle whispered as quietly as he could. “I’m not much use to anyone in this state unfortunately.”
The girl stood there for a moment, as if to admire the situation he’d gotten himself into. “It’s not often you get to find someone who whispers to the dead such as you do. If you can help me, I’ll help you down.”
Lyle was desperate to have his feet back on solid ground, so he nodded in agreement as the ghost broke into a smile and started to float toward the knotted tree branch Lyle was hung on.
“Easy does it now, there’s no hurry. Just bring me down gently.” Lyle whispered to the ghostly girl as she unwrapped the knot and began to work on pulling the rope downwards.
Lyle watched the Paladin nervously as the girl lowered him back down to the ground. The Paladin was snoring soundly and twitching every now and then, but made no move to awaken.
Lyle fell to the ground with a small thump and got back up slowly, adjusting to his newfound perspective and trying not to throw up in the moment. His gaze eventually readjusted onto the ghost girl hovering near him. She eyed him with an expectant gaze.
“Alright, what can I do for you?” Lyle whispered to the girl.
The ghost brushed her white hair to her side and began to run her cold fingers through it. “Well, I’ve been out in these woods for gods know how long. Before I left the mortal plane, I had made a very important promise to someone. The problem is, they reside out in Lionsberg and I’m unable to leave this place. Will you be able to take me over there and resolve my promise?”
Lyle looked down and thought it over for a moment. Lionsberg was not far from here and there was a strong chance that the Paladin will make his way over there to make an end to him. There was also the Necromancer’s Den to worry about as they’d probably turn him into some sort of cadaver project and attempt to steal his whispers for their own nefarious ends. Lyle looked up into the girl’s eyes and saw for a brief moment all of the deep seated pain and guilt that resided in her pale, glowing pupils. Lyle looked back at the Paladin snoring and made his resolution. “Let’s get your promise kept, shall we?”
The ghostly girl was ecstatic and made a move to hug Lyle. “Whoa whoa let’s not get too familiar here, I don’t mean to enter the spirit realm just yet.” Lyle whispered sharply as the cold touch of the ghost sent him reeling out of reality. “Let’s prep you to travel with me.” Lyle waved his hands out and closed his eyes. He whispered a spell and suddenly his eyes opened with a white glow. The ghost closed her eyes and slowly began to fade into Lyle, like a shadow slowly fading as the sun sets. Lyle stood there for a moment and took a deep breath.
“Alright, are you ready?” He thought inside his head. “Yes” a voice whispered back. Lyle tiptoed out of the campsite and once out of sight of the Paladin, began running westwards towards Lionsberg. |
Today was supposed to be an easy day. Just a simple supply run. Jessie and me were to go down to the lake to check out the old marina and see if there was anything worth taking back to our hideaway. Food, medicine, weapons, tools, anything. We needed anything. There were not supposed to be many undead in this area. There was not supposed to be any other survivor groups in this area. But there were.
Jessie and me pulled of the main road just a couple of klicks north and hid the truck well enough so we could make our way down to the water on foot. We slipped by the few undead that trudged about the forest and got to the marina just as planned. We split up to check the place faster. She went to check the front offices while I searched the toolshed.
I was in the middle of stuffing a rusty can of sardines into my backpack when I heard her scream. I looked out a window and saw them. Four guys with guns dragging her out, kicking and screaming.
Three days ago I had a full cylinder in my revolver. After Bob stupidly opened a door that turned out to have a band of hungry undead locked behind it, there were only a couple bullets left (and no Bob). I could only watch as one guy hit her and she went limp as they put her in a car and started to drive away.
I dropped my pack and started to sprint back to the truck. I knew I could catch up to them if I could get to the main road in time. The winding side street down to the marina was clogged with husks of burnt cars, and it would take them a while to navigate back to the main road and go anywhere else. A plan started to form in my mind, of waiting in ambush and ramming their car off the road, and of pulling out my gun and machete and leaping out and killing them in close combat. It was a stupid plan, and one with a very low chance of success, but not one I would ever get the chance to try, because even stupiderly, I ran straight into a mob of undead.
Right as I turned a corner I saw them, and more distressing, they saw me. Clustered around the truck were nearly a dozen walking corpses, their rotten and skeletal faces turned towards me. My pounding heart skipped a beat as they began to run at me. They don't run as fast as they did during the initial outbreak, but a half starved human like me doesn't run as fast as I used to either.
I didn't get far before I tripped on an exposed root. I hit the ground rolling as the masses of undead closed in around me, putrid flesh in tattered rags carrying insatiable toothed mouths and skeletal clawed hands. I almost was able to pull my gun, but it was too late. But it was not too late for my final, pitiful words. "No! Stop! Please!"
I expected to die. I expected to feel the pain of being torn apart and devoured. But I didn't. I opened my eyes and looked through the arms I had thrown up around my face and saw them. They had stopped. A score of undead stood around, gray eyes upon me, not attacking. Just swaying in their lifeless, uncoordinated way.
I pulled myself warily to my feet. I looked at the closest undead, something that probably used to be a man with a mullet haircut and denim overalls. In a shaky voice I said, "hello."
It said, "aaaaarrggh."
I waved at it.
It waved back.
I started talking to them.
"Please, my name is John, and I need your help. Some people took my wife and they are coming here any second. I don't know what to do. I need to save her!"
Unblinking eyes stared at me. Jaws let out various groans and gurgles. They shuffled. I think they agreed.
Another plan formed in my head. This time it was a better one.
Moments later I had the truck in the middle of the road, parked sideways and blocking both lanes. I barely had time to hide in the bushes when I heard the sound of a car approaching. I held my breath as it stopped.
"Goddammit someone get out and move this thing out of the way!" shouted a male voice. "Jerry, Lenny get out there and push!"
Car doors opened and two men got out of the car. Each looked around nervously before they slung their rifles and put hands on the vehicle.
"NOW!" I yelled.
At that, undead came pouring out of the thick vegetation that lined the road. I think I heard a gunshot and an exclamation of "oh shit!" before it dissolved into the screams of men being mauled and eaten. I jumped out from my hiding place, gun cocked in hand.
The driver was distracted, rightfully so, at the sudden appearance of the horde. He did not notice as I slid up to his window and put a bullet through it.
The last man shoved his door open and started the flailing run of a man in a panic. He made it about thirty yards down the road before being overtaken and piled upon by voracious cadavers.
I opened the trunk of the car and there she was, bound and unmoving. I took her beautiful head in my hands. Her eyes fluttered. "Jess, can you hear me?"
"J-John?" she replied.
I felt the mightiest wave of relief wash over me. "Its gonna be okay, baby, I got you now. Everything is gonna be alright."
Suddenly her eyes went wide. I turned and saw the undead standing behind me.
"No, no, it's fine!" I sputtered. "They helped me. I don't know why, but they did! They can understand me! It's amazing, right?"
I untied her and helped her out of the trunk, but her face was still gripped with fear. I held her hand as she stepped up into the truck amidst the disinterested undead shuffling about.
"Hold on just a second, sweetheart," I said. I turned to the undead. "Uh, thanks you guys. I am eternally grateful to you. Usually your kind just kills us on sight, but for whatever reason, you didn't, and that is pretty fricking cool. We gotta get back to our people now, but I'll be back. I promise!"
When I turned back to the truck I saw Jess in the driver's seat.
She was pointing a gun at me.
"Jess? What's going on?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, John, but by the rules of my order, you are an abomination. I can't let you live. Goodbye."
A shot rang out and I fell to the ground. Tires squealed as the truck sped away. The world went dark. | 2019-10-24T21:36:06 | 2019-10-24T18:28:11 | 30 | 16 |
[WP] Interstellar wars are quick, most species die of shock quite quickly. Getting shot was a death sentence. That was until humans joined the Galaxy... | (Inspired by an old post of 'why humans would be terrifying to alien life')
**Memo To Management:**
As you all know, a new species is attempting to join the federation. While we welcome our Human brethren to the federation with open arms, I would like to take some time to remind everyone that splinter-factions and personal differences are always a possibility among non-hive mind species, and that cultural differences may lead to minor quarrels. This is not to say that Human bandits will suddenly spring up like low-budget Nth era entertainment, but should you or your subordinates find themselves entangled with Humans, there are some safety guidelines to be aware of.
First off, if you are scratched, bitten, or spit on by a Human, immediately seek medical decontamination. Humans are a host to countless pathogens and microbacterial life, many of which are highly infectious. Do not assume that because a Human looks healthy that it does not carry pathogens, as they are able to become carriers to many diseases without being visibly afflicted by them. Kindly remind any Humans to maintain a distance of at least three feros from you, as they are capable of accidentally spreading pathogens at alarming distances (see chapter 5.1 of the Handy Human Handbook, "Sneezing").
We should never assume that any species will be hostile simply because we do not understand them. However, please be aware that not all of a species will be law-abiding, and should one ever find themselves in an escalating quarrel with a Human, you should first attempt to find a diplomatic solution, or barring that, surrendering to their demands until law enforcement has arrived. Do not attempt to engage in physical combat with a Human - natural pain suppressors stored in their bodies prevent them from feeling the full effects of physical trauma during high-stress situations, to the point that even being pierced or cut by heavy weaponry will not necessarily remove a Human from being combat-capable. Humans may even survive having their limbs removed, and there are many documented cases of them continuing to live long lives after losing one or multiple body parts - the only way to win is not to fight.
Furthermore, one should not attempt to run away from an angered Human, unless assisted by some mode of transportation. Human stamina is virtually limitless, and there are records of modern Humans holding tests of endurance, a competitive sport which will often pit hundreds, if not thousands, of Humans to determine which will endure the longest. While their stamina is not all at the same level, Human history shows traditional hunting strategies involving chasing their prey for an entire day-cycle until it collapses from exhaustion. Even temperature extremes do not take full effect on Humans, and may endure in conditions below freezing for an alarming duration without their internal organs shutting down. Should you find yourself in quarrel with a Human and unable to come to a diplomatic solution, it would be easier to trick the Human long enough to find some sort of transportation than to attempt to escape unassisted.
Before I end this note, I would like to remind everyone that Humans are not our enemies, and though they do come from a war-like culture where fights break out over minute differences between each other, that they are not necessarily incapable of being friendly, and we hope to incorporate them as valuable trading partners and allies as time goes on. However, if you are ever invited to "go drinking", be advised that while it is a sign that the Human has developed trust in you, this ritual involves consuming poisons that are strong enough to affect even the Humans themselves, and often causes them to become violent as a result; should a Human invite you to such an event, we would ask that you politely decline. This is not the same as being invited "to tea", though one should still wear an environment suit, following the warnings mentioned above, and to bring your own food to avoid contamination.
Regards,
Droxgar Bas Zora,
Human Resources
D-5926-bx&1
DBZora#Tamarania.Feds | Oddly enough medical technology in space was limited, to say the least. Each species medical advancements were obviously geared more towards their specific anatomy. So as you can imagine, when United Galactic Forces (U.G.F.) consisting of multiple species would end up in conflict with another faction encroaching on their territory, many lives were lost. Not just because of war, but because when you are shot or maimed, if you'r species medical technology wasn't near, you're basically dead. Kind of like the early years of settling the North American Continent, get a cough and you might as well dig your grave ahead of time.
This all changed when the Human species was introduced to the universe. A subspecies of humanoid mammals, generally hairless, and oddly curious about things that aren't attainable. They had their own technology, equipment that would scan and map out you'r entire anatomy, then calculate and diagnose whatever it is that was going in with you. Machines and practices that have been perfected over a melenia now, but the one thing that they couldn't stop.... was death. They could prolong it, stall it, hold it at bay and keep you on life support, even freezing you'r active brain and brainstem in hope's that one day their will be a cure for whatever ailment you were stricken with. This would eventually drive them mad.
Humans served as the "medics" of the U.G.F. and even some as infantry and pilots. Over the years they grew to becoming a powerful and an oddly dangerous necessity to the Galaxy, and they knew that. You see, the U.G.F. didn't take into account one vital thing, humans sheer unpredictability, and need to wage war for reasons that to any advanced alien civilization were.... pointless, and their odd fascination with evading death. Even amongst them selves they would slaughter eachother in the past, committing countless war crimes and genocide. The U.G.F. thought that humans have "outgrown" their primitive ways. They were wrong.
After years of peace and coexistence, a faction of humans had enough and wanted "equality" and believed that the human species was far superior to any other. Dispite the warnings and blatent terroristic attacks by these factions operating under the U.G.F.s nose, they still chose to ignore it. As long as the medical supplies were flowing in and care was being given, the long reach of the U.G.F. didn't seem to care, and they didn't care about the human factions experiments on aliens that were captured, to figure out how to evade death. Further and further they pushed into the unknown regions, thinning out their forces till one day, no more. The humans rose up and split from the U.G.F. claiming they could "do better" now that they have all the technology they needed in order to refine their own space travel and further their "scientific studies" into prolonging and stopping the inevitable.... death.
In secret over the years, they built a fleet of dreadnoughts and fighters and laid Siege to the vastly undefended citadel of the U.G.F. on the planet Coracan. Easily taking what they needed, food, supplies, trade routes, fuel, mining outposts, and even the planet it's self. Eradicating all alien life out of the galactic centralized government and making it solely human only. By the time the U.G.F. cought word of the invasion, it was too late. Traveling through hyperspace back to Coracan, falling into their own trap. Humans turned the Planetary Defense System on them and destroyed the entire fleet.
Now, a Galactic Federation consisting of humans rules the Galaxy. The U.G.F. ignored Earth, the tiny blue marble in the far corner of the Galaxy for thousands of years, they finally let them in and in matter of years they were outsmarted and over thrown. Now humans lay siege to planets, enslaving the life on them that they rule to be "savage" and use them for their personal gain stripping the world of their resources and goods.
Though, not all humans are bad. A small faction of humans exists, working with like minded individuals, both human and alien, to eradicate the new Galactic Federation. Striking them in the areas that hurt them the most and taking back planets for the original inhabitants to call home again. It's a funny thing, how in a time of need, beings can take advantage of each other and also ban together to help one another out. Started out with medical technology, helping all that need it, to helping all that want peace and equality again. An odd concept since humans struggled with that, equality, since the dawn of their time. Some things just don't change. | 2019-10-25T09:25:43 | 2019-10-25T09:13:26 | 171 | 28 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | The sigil remained dull, black and inactive. Even through the shoving, the pushing, the punching and name calling - it didn’t light up even once. Maybe it wasn’t the best to get used to this type of treatment, but Dalton refused to use his powers on anyone. While his powers were not inherently destructive, they were hard to control, and he didn’t want to hurt anyone.
So why wouldn’t they listen?
Was it so bad that he didn’t want to show off the powers he barely knew how to use, that he didn’t want to hurt anyone as collateral in a bit of show and tell? His head throbbed from the previous punch, the group of teenagers surrounding him in a complete circle. Everywhere his eyes looked, they landed on some color, some blur, something emanating from each and every one of the bullies. Fire, electricity, light and even darkness from one. They surrounded him, their powers all flared for show, but they didn’t really use them in any way besides intimidation. No, they preferred to hurt people themselves. This time though, there was something off about them. They were pushing harder than normal, harassing and assaulting with more... effort. Perhaps something had made them mad that day.
Another punch, and Dalton could practically feel the bruise growing, his ears ringing slightly. His chest constricted as they threw another, but this time, he felt a burn from where the punch had landed. He felt his muscles twitch from the shock, and it was starting to get a little darker, though, not because of them. He was losing consciousness. His breaths became panicked, and Dalton pleaded for them to stop, that they were going too far this time.
They didn’t listen. They never did. Before anyone could do anything else, the circle lit up, shining with a rainbow of different colors. In front of Dalton, a circle appeared, black and colorless. The bullies stared curiously, cautiously looking at it. The circle turned blue, as did Dalton’s sigil, and a geyser of sea water spewed from within the circle, easily carrying away one of the bullies, far into the distance. Dalton grasped his arm, where his sigil laid, glowing through his hand. The bullies backed off in fear, as more circles appeared around Dalton. They did not turn just blue, but green, yellow and red, a multitude of colors from which different elements spewed. A gust of wind from one, a plume of flames from another, a landslide of mud and even pure insects from some. The “battlefield” quickly became chaotic and messy, the bullies either running off or being quickly incapacitated by Dalton’s rings.
If one were to look close, they would notice that Dalton’s rings were not random circles that produced various things, but portals to different parts of the world. One linked to the sea floor, another in the middle of a raging wildfire, underneath a landslide, in the middle of a tornado: and they all came barreling through one small opening. A multitude of concentrated forces from mother nature herself, that would devastate anyone who challenged their wielder. Dalton’s sigil dulled, the glowing slowly fading away, and the portals slowly closing with them. This time, Dalton had managed to keep them small, keep them “mild” and relatively non-lethal... but would he be able to next time? He let himself fall over, ignoring the pain in his tailbone that came from sitting in such a manner. | He was waiting for me just like always two lockers down, on the left of the water fountain waiting for his prey to show up. He would make his demands for homework. I wouldn’t give him or money I didn’t have, and then he would activate his sigil. A circle broken into quarters with a crosshair that intersects the ring in the cardinal directions would flare with a dark purple, and I would feel the weight of the world crash onto my shoulders, driving me to the ground. I would cough and sputter until I agreed to give him what he wanted.
It was the same thing every day after the first gym class of the year. I took my shirt off and displayed my sigil carved in between my shoulder blades. A simple circle, no beginning or ends, lay there with no indication of the godlike powers others had. Some could tear holes in reality and jump to a location thousands of miles away, others could produce, and control flames each one of these fantastic powers had intricate symbols that notated their ability. I sighed as I approached my locker, let the abuse begin.
He pushed off the wall and walked confidently to the block my way, “Hey John, did you manage that algebra homework?”
“Yes. I did. It was pretty easy if you paid attention in class,” I grinned at him as the giant gears in his mind started to turn. His face lost his smile into a focused look as he processed my comment. Then his anger bared down on me. Taking physical form, turning my arms to lead, my torso squeezing, making it hard to breathe, that the blood rushed from my head. The gravity acting on me was increasing by the movement, dropping me to one knee than to the floor as the force continued to bear down on me, cracking my spine and grinding my bones against each other. As my vision started to fade to pinpoints of color, the unending weight eased. I coughed and spat out thick red strands, this was the farthest he had ever gone, I’m no doctor, but I knew I’d spend some time in the hospital. This had to end.
I reached out and gathered my memories, each pinprick of pain every unstable breath. The feeling of having the life crushed out of me. My senses were hammering back to life as blood and oxygen raced to my brain just enough to tell he was digging through my bag. I reached out and grabbed his ankle, and my sigil flared for the first time in years the white light filling the hall enveloping everything
He was waiting for me just like always two lockers down, on the left of the water fountain waiting for his prey to show up. He would make his demands for homework. I wouldn’t give him or money I didn’t have, and then he would activate his sigil crushing me.
‘But He was me. I looked down; my sigil was gone. I… I think I am John!’ the unexplainable happens. He was now me.
“Hey, John, did you manage that algebra homework.”
‘No, no, this isn’t right. Let me move DAMN IT!’ He struggled to move the body he was now in, but it would do him no good.
“Yes. I did. It was pretty easy if you paid attention in class.”
The pain started slowly as it had for me increasing gradually to an unimaginable crushing force threatening to break my body. And just as the effect receded and an end to the feelings of pain and helplessness, he approached the hall. There we were standing where he always did next to the water fountain.
A circle has no beginning and no end, and it loops around itself endlessly just like he would. To be honest, I felt terrible; I had no way of stopping it now that I had activated my sigil. No escape mechanism to save him from his attack on me. I justified telling myself that he had attacked me. He was going to kill me over homework. But dragging the razor over my forearm, I knew the truth. No matter how awful someone was, they didn’t deserve that. Looking down at the new bleeding cut that would eventually scar over, I shook my head. Three people were now like this, and there was no one to blame but me. | 2020-02-26T07:49:39 | 2020-02-26T07:25:14 | 92 | 51 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | I am the first person to be blessed by death. You see everyone is born with a blank circle on their forearm and as they grow up an image appears. By the time your 20 you have one of a hundred or so sigils though most people know what theirs will by much younger. It's all been documented, studied for years by generations past.
Your sigil is an outwards mark of a blessing from the rapture, the forming of the galaxy. Each blessing is some-sort of power. Super strength, flying or a star gazer, browsing futures in the night sky. Some had fancy names other we'd been to lazy or they were too rare to name.
Me though, I still have a blank circle.
It's not uncommon, just unfortunate. No blessing, means no powers. Some try hide it by getting a blessing tattooed inside their sigil or covering it up with jewellery and extravagant fashion pieces, others like me just leave it.
We get bullied and picked on, for being different, for being less than everyone else. I'm used to it. Every name call, every embarrassment I've caused - it had all happened before. I'd heard it all before. At least I thought I had.
That night, I don't really know what happened - I don't even remember what he said that caused it. Just a burning red hatred for him. He was just a drunk stranger screaming at me outside my favourite evening haunt. No doubt his abuse was for my lack of blessing but his words, they struck me like lightning.
They say death comes suddenly but actually deaths comes whenever I'm around.
My empty sigil changes. All black. The first solid sigil. I was lifted about a foot off the ground releasing an other worldly, hollow shriek. My limbs pulled outward in every direction. Then a sharp blackness.
I passed out.
When I woke up. I was laying in a puddle of blood, in fact the street was littered with puddles and there was a painfully obvious lack of any kind of life.
"Fuck," I murmured "not again" |
He has always been a very peaceful person which was often mistaken for being boring and uninteresting which lead to him getting left out. The only interaction he had with others in school was when his classmates would bully him with their outstanding powers. They were quite powerful and could possibly be used to kill others.
Gironimo had just transferred to this new school. Nero started to bully him because Gironimo seemed to be an easy target, seeing as his sigil only looked like a circle which indicated that he hadn’t formed an ability yet.
Nero possessed the ability to form deadly weapons from people’s iron, cutting up their insides and draining them of the ability to breathe properly because they couldn’t process the oxygen without iron in their blood. He knew, he could kill Gironimo but he never wanted to, seeing that he was sadistic but not a killer. Plus, he wanted to see what power Gironimo’s sigil could possibly have granted him, since it was just some circle.
Well, at least it looked like a circle if you didn’t pay attention. Everyone is born with a sigil but it has to develop and take shape over time. Gironimo’s sigil only modified ever so slightly to go from a circle to a zero. He even called his ability “Zero”, even though he himself didn’t know what it could do. The sigil’s abilities were always based on one’s personality, so it would not be surprising that a violent person like Nero had such a brutal ability while the selfless May who would do anything for others could heal others with the drawback of not being able to heal herself.
The day after Gironimo's transfer, Nero approached Gironimo. “Would you like to die?”, he said as if he just asked a normal question. “I mean, you can try”, he said confidently, even though he didn’t even know of Nero’s powers since he was always very careful with when he would use them. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Gironimo felt something cutting up the inside of his mouth and started to spew out razor blades along with alarming amounts of blood. He started to cry and shouted “Zero”. Immediately, the blood he coughed up went back into his mouth and the razor blades turned back into iron and re-entered his body. Meanwhile, Nero started to cough up razor blades and now he was the one crying and screaming. “You fucker”, Gironimo shouted. “Look what you’ve done. Look how badly I was bleeding. Why the fuuuuuucckkkk???”. He started kicking the still crying Nero and quickly left before the teachers could spot him. | 2020-02-26T07:48:24 | 2020-02-26T07:41:46 | 41 | 19 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | It's always been a source of insecurity for me. I might have the world's smallest sigil. A microsigil even. It's smaller than the tip of most pens. So small that the sigologist that looked at me when I was born almost mistook it for a birthmark. The only thing that clued him in is its depth, the tell tale sign of a sigil.
I often get teased about it. "hey look at blanky over there," or "you know what they say about people with small sigils." Hell, I've been cornered in the locker room by some bullies - well one bully that can multiply. They - he - demanded I strip down just so he can find my sigil.
Prom night last year, I got lucky and my date invited me to her hotel room. She was my crush. She was EVERYONE'S crush. But damn she led me to her hotel room. Guess what we did that night? Nothing. She just strip searched me for my sigil. I felt so objectified that day. I was just a specimen. No, worse, I was just the jar holding the specimen that is my microsigil.
Well, tonight that will all stop. The objectification, the humiliation, the insults. Tonight, I've decided to end it all, starting with this fucking sigil. I have my sharpest ice pick right above my heart, right above my sigil. I push down and then...
The universe exploded. Again. Gases accumulating. Stars forging. Planets colliding. Proteins forming. Cells dividing. Humans walking. Sigils carving.
This sigil has always been a source of insecurity for me. I might have the world's smallest sigil. A microsigil even. It's smaller than the tip of most pens. So small that the sigologist that looked at me when I was born almost mistook it for a birthmark. The only thing that clued him in is its depth, the tell tale sign of a sigil. |
He has always been a very peaceful person which was often mistaken for being boring and uninteresting which lead to him getting left out. The only interaction he had with others in school was when his classmates would bully him with their outstanding powers. They were quite powerful and could possibly be used to kill others.
Gironimo had just transferred to this new school. Nero started to bully him because Gironimo seemed to be an easy target, seeing as his sigil only looked like a circle which indicated that he hadn’t formed an ability yet.
Nero possessed the ability to form deadly weapons from people’s iron, cutting up their insides and draining them of the ability to breathe properly because they couldn’t process the oxygen without iron in their blood. He knew, he could kill Gironimo but he never wanted to, seeing that he was sadistic but not a killer. Plus, he wanted to see what power Gironimo’s sigil could possibly have granted him, since it was just some circle.
Well, at least it looked like a circle if you didn’t pay attention. Everyone is born with a sigil but it has to develop and take shape over time. Gironimo’s sigil only modified ever so slightly to go from a circle to a zero. He even called his ability “Zero”, even though he himself didn’t know what it could do. The sigil’s abilities were always based on one’s personality, so it would not be surprising that a violent person like Nero had such a brutal ability while the selfless May who would do anything for others could heal others with the drawback of not being able to heal herself.
The day after Gironimo's transfer, Nero approached Gironimo. “Would you like to die?”, he said as if he just asked a normal question. “I mean, you can try”, he said confidently, even though he didn’t even know of Nero’s powers since he was always very careful with when he would use them. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Gironimo felt something cutting up the inside of his mouth and started to spew out razor blades along with alarming amounts of blood. He started to cry and shouted “Zero”. Immediately, the blood he coughed up went back into his mouth and the razor blades turned back into iron and re-entered his body. Meanwhile, Nero started to cough up razor blades and now he was the one crying and screaming. “You fucker”, Gironimo shouted. “Look what you’ve done. Look how badly I was bleeding. Why the fuuuuuucckkkk???”. He started kicking the still crying Nero and quickly left before the teachers could spot him. | 2020-02-26T08:00:12 | 2020-02-26T07:41:46 | 32 | 19 |
[WP]A civilization made a pact with a god, granting them immense power, but in 50 years summoning a being that'll destroy the galaxy. Only way to prevent that is to slaughter the offending empire within those 50 years. This marks the first time pacifists vouched for genocide on the galactic council.
Inspired by "The end of the cycle" from Stellaris, as well as a comment on r/stellaris.
Created because i was dared by u/JakorPastrack to do so. | The Pacifist Bloc on the Galactic Council had voted for genocide. It was really happening. War.
As the vote tally was read aloud, you could hear a pin drop in the huge chamber which housed the Council. There was no sound except the automated voice reading aloud the name of each voting bloc and the result.
Argondian Republic - Genocide.
High Nebulan Melange - Genocide.
It was the only real choice left, but it signified the end of the Galaxy as it was known. No wars had marred the peaceful co-existence of the Galaxy's sentient species in millions of years.
Fenebrial Hegemony - Genocide.
Greater Light Path of Harmony - Genocide.
Now the Galactic Council had set aside millions of years of peace, in order to strike at the Apothagentians who had consorted with a Transcendent Power, and appalling breach of protocol, and a deed that is absolutely forbidden throughout the Galaxy.
The Monarchy of Zort - Genocide.
Ordinal Cohesion - Genocide.
Who would actually execute the deed? And how could it be done? The Apothagentians now had colossal power at their disposal, and neither the Council nor any of its members had developed or manufactured any weapons in a million years. Further, would they - even if in possession of weapons capable of defeating the Apothagentians - be morally or constitutionally capable of 'pulling the trigger'?
Apptitude of Embracing - Genocide.
Imperium of Durrel - Genocide.
The tally is now complete, the unanimous decision of the Council is Genocide.
There arose a susurration in the Council Chamber, which died away as First Speaker Brond stood to speak. Again, a deathly silence came over chamber, and a million delegates waited for the words of their leader.
"The decision of the Council is Genocide."
Even though the decision was known already, this announcement still brought gasps of shock and horror from the delegates. Some curled up on the floor, others shut down their receptors from external stimuli.
"The Inner Council has already chosen an army to destroy the Apothagentians. Though we had hoped this day would never come, we have been preparing to set free one of the Forbidden Worlds."
The Council Chamber was filled with muttering, and some voices were raised in anger - a rarity indeed in the Chamber of the Galactic Council. The Forbidden Worlds were planets which housed species which did not fit the galactic milieu. Misfit species with anger issues and a tendency towards violence and the misuse of technology were kept blanketed behind carefully crafted simulations, to keep them permanently unaware of what was 'out there'. They received no information from off-planet except that which was fed to them by the simulation. And the data that was fed to them was filled with maddening inconsistencies, designed to drive them down barren and sterile paths of discovery, to ensure they never discovered the technology of interstellar flight. The decision to free a Forbidden World could save the galaxy, or damn it.
Or, it could achieve both.
Once again, the First Speaker spoke. "Let the veil be lifted!"
Wonder, alarm, consternation, exhilaration. For the first time in a hundred thousand years, the true night sky was visible from Earth, and what wonders it held! A myriad of blinking satellites, vast fleets of enormous spaceships, and an invitation to parley from something calling itself the Galactic Council.
Now, wasn't that interesting? | The chamber was restless with anxious, ceaseless whispering. Air, although conditioned and cool in the ‘temperate’ quadrant of the council, seemed to stifle and suffocate me as I adjust and readjust my robe for the hundredth time- my mandibles twitching involuntarily under the fabric. We are about to enter the 3rd session of debate on the issue of the Entermittians.
I consult my notes. Pointlessly- I know there is no choice but to attempt a hard negotiation strategy with the Entermis on the containment of their “god” as soon as it materialises. For the thousandth time, I mentally reassure myself of the backing this motion has among the council. My longtime drinking buddy, friend, and ally on the council, Cecil, has just entered the chamber, whispering furiously with some Frivarians: he meets my eyes and flicks his tail- it appears as though he has gathered more support for my position, though he too looks incredibly grim-faced.
The debate opens. As per usual the alliance-for-appeasement makes its opening statements, I make mine, and our hours of discussion begin. Throughout the debate, whispers, clicks, and scratching pens echo round the sterile chamber. The alliance approaches the argument on the basis that should we appease the Entermis: they may have means by which to control this “god” that they have chosen not to disclose to the council. Of course, I do all I can to explain that this is a foolish gamble. Talking steadily into the microphone on my desk, I agonisingly make the case for negotiation over containment efforts for this “god”. It is a desperate move of course, but what choice do we have but to use our combined technologies to counteract this threat?
A few fringe members argue for inaction. A few for somehow attempting a pact of our own.
The debate drags on for hours as dread slowly seeps into the chamber- hovering over the muttering ambassadors as though it were a thick, heavy, and palpable.
We reach yet another inconclusive end point of a line of debate, when a previously silent member of the council makes a request for time. Turning round, I am surprised to see it one of the pacifist races.
A sheen of liquid seems to glisten on the ambassadors forehead- sweat it is, I mentally remind myself. I recognise it- a human. They had ascended to the galactic council already pacifists, having apparently almost eradicated themselves on their home planet, the horrors of their history left them with no choice but to leave conflict behind in order to ever progress beyond their home. Their history was truly horrifying- the most brutal and tragic I had ever learnt of; it was no wonder they had to discard of those traits. My hearts fills with dread- it is unusual for the humans to interject, yet there was no doubt they will argue for appeasement. The human taps his microphone twice, and begins in a dry, sombre, almost cold tone.
“I come to you, as the sole representative to the council of the human Inter-Planetary Nation of Brathada. Thus far, neither resolution to the Entermittian issue offered by my good members of the council has been persuasive to our nation. We do not doubt that these arguments are made in the best of faith in pursuit of the safety, prosperity, and security of the galaxy.”
The human paused, wiped his brow, and resumed. Noises of dissent began to grow in the chamber.
“However, it is undeniable that neither proposition offers a truly failsafe route for securing the safety of our the galaxy and all its inhabitants.”
The human seemed almost hesitant, and I thought I caught one of its limbs trembling.
“Thus, the Inter-Planetary Nation of Brathada puts forward a motion for the complete and total eradication of the Entermittian species. It is our position that only the wholesale annihilation of their species may genuinely secure the future of the civilians represented by the council members.”
The chamber was a deathly silence. | 2020-09-11T10:54:40 | 2020-09-11T10:47:31 | 44 | 13 |
[WP] "Wait, so there's no gold?" "Of COURSE there's no gold. I'm a huge freaking dragon; why would I need to buy anything? I live in a cave, for fuck's sake. WHY do you humans always think I have gold?" | "Wait, so there's no gold?"
Gordon stared down at the latest imbecile. "*Of* *course*, there's no gold. I'm a huge freaking dragon; why would I need to buy anything? I live in a cave, for fuck's sake. WHY do you humans always think I have gold?"
The idiot's jaw dropped a bit and turned his head to stare at the unadorned slab walls. “But, but...”
Gordon could feel his temper straining. What *was* it with these humans? He closed his eyes and counted to ten. Martha had warned him about smelling up the cave with burnt human again, and he had no wish to sleep out in the forest.
“But what about the diamonds?” came a quiet question.
Gordon just about snapped. “WHAT DIAMONDS?!”
The human jumped just about out of his shoes. Gordon wondered if it was possible for something to vibrate their way out of their own skin.
“Those?” the idiot whispered, pointing toward the refuse pile.
Gordon just about lost it. “Don't you eliminate, human?” Just how stupid *were* these creatures?
The human gulped. “Yeah, but I don't poop out diamonds.”
Gordon stared at the human. He then looked at the refuse pile. “You're serious.”
The diamonds Gordon was familiar with were all polished and faceted, and generally looked like microscopic scales. Not at all what dragons produce.
Still, the human nodded. Gordon stared at him while the gears churned in his head. He jumped up and turned toward the back of the cave.
“Martha!” he roared. “Get a realtor! We're rich!” | The knight thought for a second, at a loss for words. He had never stopped to consider it.
"Because the legends have said it, since before time began," he replied, trying to remain brave. "You kill the dragon, you get the gold, you wed the princess."
"Oh god, you think I have some virgin princess lying around here too? What's thicker, your armor or your skull?" the dragon said, his voice dripping in sarcasm.
"You mean you don't have a princess either?" the knight queried, now truly confused.
"Of course not! For what, leftovers? No; no princess, no gold, and no time for your incessant pestering. Begone with you."
"But then why would the tales say so?" the knight asked.
"You really don't know, do you?" the dragon asked, almost disappointed. "You humans are really a sorry lot."
"But why?" the knight asked, persisting.
"Because you're selfish at your core, that's why. You won't kill a dragon just because it's terrorizing the lands, just because it's feasting on your peoples' livestock. No, you need a reward, a dragon's weight in gold and some helpless woman's hand in marriage to boot. You won't kill a dragon just because it's the right thing to do," the dragon spat.
"If you do manage to kill me," the dragon continued, "all you will get is a knife in the neck to keep the story believed, as I am but one dragon. Perhaps some false tale of courage, no doubt where you kill me in your dying throes. But you will not have to worry about that - as your flimsy sword could not pierce my heart, let alone my scales. Now either die here or leave with your life; it does not matter to me."
The knight stood in silent contemplation. After quite some time, he sheathed his sword, then turned back towards the entrance.
"I'm sorry to have wasted your time," the knight said, almost to himself.
"And I yours," the dragon replied. "And I suggest you keep this all to yourself, lest you still want that knife to find its way inside of you."
The dragon watched the knight go. Despite the fact that he had come to kill him, he still felt he had perhaps been a bit too harsh on the knight.
Perhaps it was finally time to speak to the king himself. It would be a fiery conversation, no doubt. | 2020-12-28T19:21:32 | 2020-12-28T18:59:29 | 605 | 309 |
[WP] 'There is motion at your front door' - You groggily awake to the notification on your smart watch. You check the video on your phone and see yourself frantically trying to open the door. The timestamp reads 2:48 AM. You look at your watch. It's 2:37 AM. | “Five more minutes”, I groaned, being woken up from a rather nice dream. I looked down at my watch, a new notification, “There is motion at your front door.”
“If this isn't the way a horror movie starts…”, I mumble to no one in particular as I pick up my phone. A quick thumb press later, and I'm watching the video.
It's me.
The rain is pouring, I'm soaking wet, and I'm struggling to open the door. A little white clock in the corner reads 2:48 AM.
I look at my watch again: 2:37 AM.
My breathing gets heavier as I start to panic. The sound of my breath fills my ears as I-
Wait a second.
The sound of my breath is the only thing filling my ears.
It's not raining.
I look closer at the notification on my watch, and in the upper right hand corner, a little gray number tells me how old the notification was: 1 day ago.
“Stupid rural cell service,” I grumble as I go back to sleep. | “Ah, so this is either a face stealer situation or my time fuckery has started to catch up with me” I thought groggily as I got up to make coffee. As the cheap machine sputtered to life I plodded over to the hall closet and started rummaging through until I got my old metal bat. Self defense weapon in hand, I grabbed a cup of hot joe and sat in the living room next to the door and waited for my doppelgänger to arrive.
Sure enough, the sack of time hopping shit showed up and started fumbling with the lock and generally having a panic attack trying to get in. I opened the window next to the door and peered through.
“The fuck do you want?” I barked, startling the face stealing sunnovabitch on my porch.
“Oh fuck you’re awake. Cool, uhh, y’all got any coffee made?”
“Yeah, come in and tell me why the fuck I got a front door alert from you ten minutes ago.”
“Aight bitch I got some wild fuckin tea to spill, it’s gonna knock you right outta ur britches!” He says as I unlock the door and let him in. “What’s with the bar?”
“Ah, just a precaution. Didn’t know if you were one of the bad dead-daves or not.” My doppelgänger laughs at that.
“Aw, you don’t gotta worry bout that, bro. I’m just tryna lie low for a bit, god knows I need it.” And like the sense fuck he is, he turns his back to me as he gets some coffee. He ain’t one of the daves from my extensive time fuckery, and now we both know it.
I ain’t ever said ‘britches’ in my damn life. | 2021-05-31T15:47:04 | 2021-05-31T13:58:14 | 34 | 12 |
[WP] As an author you’re the ultimate god of your world. Your hero became powerful enough to step into reality. He then asks you to explain why an omnipotent being would permit so much evil in the world, not realising that you placed all the evil there to spice up the story. | "You could have written it differently. You could have made fewer bad things happen, or made it hurt less."
I laugh bitterly. "You really don't get it, do you?"
She grits her teeth. "What do you mean?"
"I'm no more a god in your world than in this one—"
"Bullshit!" she screams. "You're the author! You make the decisions, you—you killed him!" She sobs. "You killed my brother."
I slap her hard in the face. "Abuse killed my brother. Addiction killed my brother. Society killed my brother. But I. Did. Not. Kill. Him."
Realization dawns on her face as she recognizes the line from the novel. "Your brother..." she says. "I...I'm you, aren't I?"
I wheel my office chair to a shelf and pull out a folder. "Your novel isn't the first time I've tried to write this story, you know," I say, dropping stapled drafts in front of her one by one. "There are drafts in which you save him. There are drafts in which he saves himself. There are drafts in which he was never sick, and in which you never had a brother. There are stories in which nothing bad happens to you ever, and stories in which an entirely different bad thing happens to you. But the stories built on deus ex machina fall flat. They're not real worlds, just words stuck together like pieces of macaroni glued to paper in a crude facsimile of an imagined concept. And the stories in which everything is different, well, is that even you?" I breathe hard. "You say I could have done things differently. God, don't you think I tried?"
"I'm sorry," she mumbles. "I didn't know...I'm sorry..." She approaches me and reaches out a hand tentatively; then, in a moment of decisiveness, she grabs me, wraps her arms around me, and hugs me tightly. "I'm sorry."
"I did everything I could, you know," I say. "Wherever I could give you a break, a skill, a friend, without compromising the integrity of the story, I did. And you have something else that I don't."
"What's that?" she asks quietly.
I glance at the final draft on my desk, containing the portions of the story she hasn't experienced yet. "A guaranteed happy ending." | I have often visualized my creation, Taron, standing behind me, guiding me as I write. The vividness of these imaginings comes close to hallucination, as though I am being driven by his mighty spirit as he raises his cursed blade, the Terrorsword, above the cowering sorcerer who has tormented the kind and humble folk of a farming village with his vile arts.
Yet, there Taron stands in the doorway of my two-story house in Curtis Park, the sun at his back. His face aflame with rage, the very rage I have imagined in moments when I have felt possessed by Taron's cunning spirit.
Taron is exactly as I have described him: a hulking figure with a mane of curly red hair, piercing ice-blue-eyes, and an aquiline nose, clad in a brown deer-leather vest, woollen black trousers, and dragon-hide moccasins, the Terrorsword slung across his back.
"When I sought God," snarls Taron, "I did not imagine such a puny little man, who would cause so much suffering in my world."
"What suffering have I caused?" I inquire, wondering if this is yet another vivid imagining.
"My destiny," spits Taron, "was forged in war. Though my people be brave fighters all, no child should have to see his mother abducted by cruel vagabonds, his father tortured and slain before him, his brothers and sisters *enslaved*."
Taron continues, "and then. And then, there is the matter of those I have loved. My best friend, or so I thought, Wyvern - the Captain of the Warbeasts, who betrayed me and my brothers-in-arms in a shower of blood, upon a mountain of skulls, that he might seek the powers of a *God*! Who left my beloved bride-to-be speechless, an idiot and a vegetable in my care until her death by witch hunters!"
Taron proceeds with yet another list of the injustices he has suffered.
"Not only did I seek Wyvern that I might slay him - which I did, with my own bare hands - not only did I risk life and limb, suffering visions of great insanity, to hunt and strike down each and every one of the witch hunters who slew my love - but you subjected me as well to crucifixion and revival, my eyes plucked out by ravens until the magics of the Argonites brought me to life and made me well again! And then, it seems, near every woman with whom I shared my affections, save the one I was to marry, has betrayed me! By poison or by blade, or in collusion with murderous kings and wicked wizards!"
Taron pauses.
"Give me one good reason, oh creator of my world, why I should not slice you in twain with the Terrorsword, and bring all suffering in my world to an end?"
I pause, trying to think, as quickly as I can, of some crafty way to spare myself from death by the Terrorsword's dark energy. | 2021-07-31T11:06:04 | 2021-07-31T10:48:40 | 28 | 14 |
[WP] After a few million years you just remembered you cursed a mortal with eternal life. It was only meant for a few hundred years to teach him a lesson. | To be honest the first million years hadn’t been so bad for K’rsst. Sure he’d watched his people slowly go extinct but after that things had been pretty quiet.
Then the asteroid struck. He hadn’t had any time to react as the shock wave melted his skin and then buried him under debris. Once his skin grew back it took him a few years to claw his way back to the surface, emerging in a desolate hell of ashen winter. Slowly the sky returned to normal and larger prey returned to the landscape.
He watched seasons come and go, the planet freeze and thaw. New forms of life walked on land and then just as quickly disappeared. He liked these new flying creatures most of all. Their feathers reminded him of his people, of going hunting through the forest and of home.
Eons of silence were broken by the arrival of some new creatures, bipedal mammals! The first time he encountered them they threw crude spears and chased him. The next group worshipped him. If only they knew what real gods could do…
And so the cycle repeated for the next few thousand years. Fear and worship, panic and praise. He taught them many things, but lost just as many limbs.
Eventually he’d had enough and retreated back into the wilderness. He found refuge in a remote swamp for many years until the mammals returned. They brought with them bristling machines of metal, tearing up the earth and leaving behind black ashen paths. When they were done he breathed a sigh of relief. His peace didn’t last long.
Crossing the black stretch one night he was blinded by two new stars. It seemed they were getting closer and closer until he saw it. A large metal thing with a mammal inside hit him with more force than he’d felt in millennia.
The metal screeched to a stop and the mammal got out screaming. Before the mammal could reach him he pulled himself into the waters of the swamp and hid.
The next morning the mammals printed ink on a mix of wooden fibers. In their language there was a large section of text with a crude drawing of K’rsst, it read, “Lizard Man Spotted in Everglades!”.
Nog’zidah was drinking his morning tea, looking out at humanity when one of his servants brought him the humans’ latest news. He saw the headline and spit out his tea. “Oh shit, I completely forgot about that guy!” | One lazy afternoon, while God was playing volleyball with the angels, a stunning revelation came upon him.
"Oh shoot," he muttered under his breath as he ran off the court with sand stuck between his toes.
Knowing everything is a lot like knowing nothing, he thought to himself, trying to remember which room he had trapped the man in. How long had it been? At least a million years, he decided, with his hand on the doorknob.
He paused. What should he tell the man? *Sorry, I was planning on letting you live for a few hundred years, just to give you a taste of my life, letting you know it isn't all sunshine and roses, but I forgot, and you've been alive much longer. Better late than never?*
Besides, it wasn't his fault he was God. It sort of just happened one day, before anything existed. He never asked to be born the Creator, so why should he take responsibility for his mistakes? Tornadoes never got in trouble for their destruction.
Prepared for an argument, he opened the door.
There the man was, hunched over looking at something, with his back towards him. What was his name again? Theo?
"Hello, Theo," God's epic voice boomed. "Be not afraid."
Theo looked over his shoulder, still hunched over, and held a finger to his mouth.
"Shh," he whispered.
God was struck by how well-kept the man looked. A million years had not changed Theo one bit. He still had the same short blonde hair, the same black hoodie, and the same ripped jeans. He probably had the same smart aleck mouth too, but he hadn't said anything, to God's surprise. Theo's attention returned to whatever he was crouched over.
Like a curious cat, God slowly inched his way into the room. He moved on his tip toes, respecting Theo's wish for silence. And then, he saw it. The thing he couldn't see from the doorway. The thing that had taken Theo a million years to create.
"You don't mean..." God said, astonished.
"I do."
Together, with God crouching down beside him, they looked down at the blue floating marble. They saw a war between people, and they watched as a soldier impaled another with a spear. They witnessed a child crying as her father drank instead of feeding her. They frowned as a homeless man was spat on by a passerby. And then, in other places, places that were always there, you just had to look, they saw other things. Two daughters giving a freshly picked flower to their mother. A baby giggling while being licked by a Golden Retriever. Teenagers alone in a car sharing their first kiss.
"How did you...?" God asked.
"I don't know. But it's beautiful, isn't it?"
God agreed, it was beautiful. Despite the war, despite the cruelty, and despite the hatred, the world Theo had created was still one worth living in. You just had to know where to look.
Yes, it wasn't perfect, both of them were well aware of that.
But it was good enough. | 2022-01-27T05:58:41 | 2022-01-27T00:00:10 | 287 | 197 |
[WP] There is one Ironclad rule in the world: If you have powers, you are probably going to be a Hero or Villain. You have some extremely powerful abilities, but you said you never wanted to be a Hero. Now everybody is convinced you want to be a Villain, and won't stop trying to "save you from evil" | "It's my superpower. I see connections between things other people don't. Sometimes they're actually there. Sometimes they're not. Sometimes the connections are subtle and when people finally catch on they say I'm a genius. It's not perfect; hell, it's not even reliable. But it's often enough and I don't have any other explanation. I win just enough sports bets and day trades to make a living, but not so many the companies shut me down. It's not admissible in court, it's not actionable for intelligence work, and I can't show my work well enough for any investment firm to actually stick by me; believe me, I've washed out of everything I could conceivably use it for. These days, I do what I please. I have some nice dates, I keep up on the news and current events."
"So are you a hero, or a villain?"
"Look, Officer Obvious, this isn't one of your black and white showdowns. I'm just a guy making his way in the world. I'm not hurting anybody. I can't help anybody. Not any more than anybody else. I'm not a hero. I'm not a villain."
"If you're a hero, you're supposed to help people! If you're a villain, I have to stop you!"
"I...I'm starting a non-profit to advocate for the rights of people who don't fit into the superpower binary, to look after people who might otherwise fall through the cracks of the system to prevent them from turning into the kind of guy who blows up my house."
"So you're a hero then?"
"I'm a guy who lives in a house that doesn't want it blown up and doesn't want to get harassed about it. I just finished getting it paid off. If I'm a hero, I've already got my mission to do as I see fit. If I'm a villain, I'm so far down the priorities list I'll be long dead before you ever see my name again. Go home." | My name is Naomi Gallagher, and I live in a world full of powers. Everyone born in this world was usually born with a power, I’m no different, but my power is not really for one side or the other.
I call my power, Null and Void, basically I have a small area around me that, as soon as any power is activated or is used inside the area, it is completely shut off until it dissipates or the powers owner leaves my area.
Everyone at my school all want to become heroes thanks to their powers, otherwise you’ll be labeled as a villain. That’s not for me though, I was just wanting to lead a somewhat normal life.
That’s why I want to figure out how exactly I ended up in the current situation where I was being held as a hostage in a villain’s rampage of my city.
Naomi could feel their power currently nullifying the villains paralytic touch since he had his hand around their throat, but Naomi just sat there with a disinterested look on their face. Their lips turned into a deep frown as three heroes surrounded the villain.
“Give us the hostage Paralizard.” A heroine in a sleek black skintight costume called as she pulled at the fabric.
A hiss from the villain Paralizard, stupid name honestly, let Naomi know there wasn’t a chance they would be getting released.
“Never you s-s-scum.” He hissed, and Naomi couldn’t really care less what happened, it wasn’t like they were in any immediate danger. “This girl here is my ticket to escaping this fight, my paralysis has already affected her!”
Naomi’s eye twitched and the hero to the left of the villain, Socket, saw this and chuckled under their breath.
Did this creep seriously just misgender us, just because we have on girls clothes today didn’t mean we’re fully a girl. Naomi growled in their head as, without thinking, they reared their leg forward and swung it back hard, right into the villains private rental room.
Both heroes winced in pain as well, as Paralizard released Naomi and cupped his jewels.
Paralizard looked up at Naomi in a haze of pain and tried to speak and ask something, but Naomi shrugged.
“It’s my power idiot, other powers are useless against me.” They said flipping the villain off and starting to walk away.
They didn’t get very far before the heroine walked over and clasped their shoulder.
“That was very brave, your power would make you a great hero!” She exclaimed.
Naomi growled and shrugged the hand off, and whirled on the heroine, “I don’t care about being a hero, and I couldn’t give two jacks about becoming a villain, so just leave me alone.” They finished and stalked away. | 2022-10-04T20:22:45 | 2022-10-04T12:27:12 | 170 | 116 |
[WP] One of your coworkers is a 2.2m, 100kg tarantula named Phil. Phil is... hard to look at, frankly. But Krystal has been trying to get him fired. Phil doesn't deserve that so you're taking him to HR to help file a discrimination complaint. | Phil had to crouch slightly to fit all eight hairy legs inside the cubicle. The 7 foot 2 sentient arachnid chittered apologetically. I shook my head.
"We really like to keep the processed reports face up in the outgoing bin, mkay?" Krystal said, blinking as she sipped her tea. Her sighs got louder and louder as she flicked through the stack at Phil's desk. "It just makes more sense so people can see what they're grabbing. We don't want to make anyone else's job harder."
"That's literally not a thing, Krystal," I said over the grey wall. She bunched the sleeves of her cardigan over her elbows. "Been working here six years and never had anyone care about if the reports were flipped as long as they all were in the bin." I smiled with all the cordiality I could muster.
"Well." Krystal scrunched her nose. "This is clearly distracting others from their work either way." She leaned under Phil, snooping over his cubicle. The only decoration was a framed 4 by 6 of 500 or so small spiders crawling along a fence post.
"If I'm distracted, it's by you, not him," I said, walking past with my water bottle. "What are you doing?"
"I'm just looking for," she paused to gauge my reaction. "Webs," she added with thinly veiled disgust.
Phil pushed his keyboard away and chittered urgently for several seconds.
"Well how am I supposed to know tarantulas only use silk to line their burrows? Why are you mad?" Krystal asked quizzically. "I'm not a etymologist. Let's all just get back to work. I take the quarterly deadlines seriously, don't know about you guys."
"Then maybe you should go back to your desk, considering you have the same job as us and bothering new people isn't part of it," I offered.
Phil chittered as he typed with the thin claws at the ends of four legs while leaning back on the other four.
"Wow, you can really hammer it out," I said to Phil. "You might have finished the most reports today."
Krystal harrumphed softly as she turned and left.
"Ignore her, dude," I said, shaking my head. "She's just speciesist, plain as day."
Phil chittered sadly, tapping a paper on the desk. It was a new colleague onboarding form. Krystal's bubbly writing was all over it in red ink.
"Oh my god," I said, looking it over and throwing it down. "Again, none of this matters. She's just making up rules. She's trying to get you fired. Come on. Let's go."
Phil tsk tsked, towering over me, fangs glistening. I had to get this guy on the work basketball team.
"To HR," I answered.
***
"Whatever it means, it’s made you feel uncomfortable," the HR rep said. "You’re in a situation that, from your perspective, is a no-win for you and is hampering your onboarding. Let's go ahead and get Krystal-"
The door slammed open behind Phil. A man in a ratty untucked dress shirt waved a gun around. "You dumb witch," he slurred. "I bet you didn't think I would do it, huh, come to your work? You think you can keep my kids from me? And now you're hanging out with their kind?"
"Todd!" the HR rep yelled, throwing up her hands. "You're drunk!"
Phil and I looked back and forth between the pair. I patted my pockets. I had left my phone at my desk.
"Dude," I whispered to Phil. "Do you have your phone to call 911?"
"That's what it takes," the maniac squealed. "I can't look at your sorry fucking face unless I'm-"
The man fell to the floor, twitching. Two large spots swelled up on his face. The bite had been too fast to see. Phil plopped down 200 pounds of hairy spider abdomen on top of the man. The gun went sliding to the far end of the room.
"Absolutely savage, my guy." I held out a hand for a sutble low five, or whatever the spider equivalent was. Phil tapped it and chittered.
The HR rep was already on the phone with the police but burst out laughing at Phil's joke.
/r/surinical | Phil was... well there's no good way to put this is there? Phil was *unique*, everyone knew, though few ever said anything, that was the effect a tarantula the size of a car tends to have on people after all. Frankly Pauline thought that wasn't really fair, it was only a few years after a non insignificant percentage of spiders gained sapience and grew to titanic sizes overnight, but ever since Phil joined the company in late 2023 he has proven to be far more polite, hard working and friendly than the vast majority of her human coworkers. This is why when she heard the news that Krystal, that *bitch* from HR was trying to get him fired Pauline was, to put it lightly, *livid*. Unfortunately poor Phil was never too great with company politics and rather ironically for a creature that can shatter concrete walls wasn't the type of person who would fight something like this, but she simply couldn't stand to sit there and let it happen, and so Pauline decided to help the overgrown spider learn his rights.
She found him sitting alone in the break room during the lunch break gazing sadly at a silk bag full of bugs. There was probably more than enough room to fit at least half a dozen more people despite Phill's gargantuan frame taking up a significant chunk of the room, but nobody really wanted to sit next to a spider, well that and the giant sack of bugs tended to ruin ones appetite which... fair enough... still Pauline felt terribly sorry for the melancholy arachnid. She took a seat on the only couch in the room that didn't have one of Phil's legs on them, immediately causing Phil's hairs to bristle in surprise. Not entirely sure what to say or where to start the two of them just sat in awkward silence for a minute before she broke the silence with a slightly forced cough,
"Ahem... uh... hi there Phil... I know we don't really talk often but I heard about the thing with Krystal from HR, I am really sorry to hear that bud." she began, wincing slightly as she observed Phil perk up slightly at the start of her sentence before slumping once more as she finished,
Phil made a series of clicking noises before producing a small text to speech device from a web pouch dangling from his equivalent of a neck and typing a sentence with his pedipalps,
"What does it matter to you Pauline? Face it, nobody really cares about me. I was better off hunting bugs, deer and stray dogs in the woods." the robotic voice of the computer replied,
"It matters to me because you don't deserve it... you are a great guy Phil, you don't deserve to be treated like this and frankly you shouldn't just put up with it like you are doing now!" Pauline exclaimed perhaps a little louder than she originally intended, words flowing more and more confidently as awkwardness bled away to renewed purpose, "It doesn't matter where you come from, the language you speak or even if you have two legs or eight, this is wrong and I really want to help you!"
Pauline extracted a few papers from her bag and placed them on the coffee table in front of Phil,
"And how do you think you are going to help me? While the sentiment is touching I simply do not fit in, everyone has made that very clear, nobody wants to work with one of my kind." the droning of the text to speech program responded,
"Right here is the paperwork for a discrimination and harassment complaint that you can file directly to senior management, I read up on the laws and company policy, there is a zero tolerance policy for discrimination, and it doesn't say anything about spiders being an exception to any of these rules." Pauline stated with a smile, "I read the report Krystal made to justify getting you fired, to put it simply it's a whole load of bullshit, everyone who has bothered to even acknowledge your existence has plenty of proof that this is just a bunch of thinly veiled racist garbage, and you deserve to have the higher ups know about this!"
"What made you think this will work? Why do you think they would care about the word of a terrifying spider?" Phil asked,
"I can't say for certain what will happen but you won't be alone, trust me I know exactly what this bullshit is, I had to deal with this shit too, humans can and will be vicious to anyone even a little different you know, even to their own kind..." Pauline reminisced sadly, "Even if nobody else has the balls to stand for you know that I will at least, I am not entirely sure what will happen, but we have to at least try. Besides, if it doesn't work out I know a good ass lawyer that can give this company a good ass ripping for so brazenly ignoring their own policy! "
Phil seemed lost for thought for a moment before picking up the papers before him, producing a pen, and filling in his details. He carefully placed the paperwork in the same pouch from which he took out his text to speech device and turned to look at Pauline with gratitude,
"Thank you Pauline, this means a lot to me." the text to speech droned in a shockingly emotional monotone
With a wan smile Pauline simply said, "Trust me, it's the least I could do." | 2022-10-15T04:34:15 | 2022-10-15T04:09:42 | 1,865 | 322 |
[WP] "Nobody will hear you scream!" the serial killer said to their would-be victim. Too late did they realise that this also means that no one would hear them scream either. | As the masked man holds a knife to my throat, he snickers. I simply stare at him blankly. “Nobody will hear you scream!” He says, cackling. I really had to get an attempt today Huh? I just finished my shift of janitorial work, and decided to take a shortcut home. I didn’t think someone would try to kill me today. “Neither will anyone hear yours,” I reply in monotone. The deranged killer laughs in response.
“The bravado will do nothing for you, have fun in hell!” He says before slicing my throat. However, no blood spurts out. In fact, the killer’s eyes widen as he screams and falls back, away from me. The cut in my neck only reveals fleshy red tendrils that reach out in the air. “What the hell?!” He yells. “What the hell are you!?”
“A mistake, to my creators. But to you? I’m hungry,” I say, reaching for him. He slaps my hand away and jumps up before making a run for it.
“Sorry, but, you can’t leave now,” I say, my arms losing their shape and separating into various red tendrils, surging forward and grabbing his leg. He screams as I lift him into the air and bring him back to me. “At least it’s quick,” I say before lifting my shirt, revealing a gaping maw, with rows of jagged teeth.
In a police station, a clerk sighs as he turns on the light. He hates coming in early in the mornings. He looks at the front desk and screams as a lone head sits in the middle, with a sticky note stuck on its head.
‘*bounty. Free of charge. Have a good day.*’ | "Nobody will hear you scream!"
"That's right"
"What?"
"You're correct in your assessment of how far sound will travel and the probability of any other conscious human being's ability to hear it. We're too far into the woods now. It's too dark for anyone to see anything either. Really great location for an attack, good choice."
\*sinister chuckle, "So you're not afraid to meet your end? Perfect, an easy prey...less effort, more pleasure.."
"Oh no, I am very much afraid to die, but I've always wondered, are *you* afraid of death?"
\* maniacal laughter, "I'm death's accomplice. Now enough ta-"
# WHAM!
&#x200B;
"ARGH! What the hell was that!? Did you just try to hit me with a rock!?"
\*shrug, " yea ... i mean you were just about to stab m- "
"You idiot! That pebble bare scraped my the muscles on my face. It'll be a rough bruising at best!"
"Well SoRrY I'm not a pro at th- AAAHHH!
\*winded, "that hurts"
"Ha! Precisely what I meant to do
"Great... And this is precisely what *I* meant to do"
\*twists arm causing knife to fall with a light thud by feet, sees blade only by stroke of luck and the slight gleam of scarlet red dripping from it. Grabs it from the ground and attacks the side of the torso with a sudden move, going in deep"
&#x200B;
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH"
&#x200B;
\*deep thud on ground
\*scarce , heavy breathing
\*looking down at weak body, "Did you really think I trusted you so blindly to take me 'camping' on a day like this, in a location like this? You're pathetic, and always have been. I knew what you'd been up to but never had enough proof until yesterday. I found your disgusting 'trophies', don't worry, the authorities would know by now...I had them delivered to their station this morning right after we left. After all that you've done, and even after you tried to hurt me... lying here weak and pathetic... no one can hear your screams here, Dad."
&#x200B;
# | 2022-10-25T16:53:56 | 2022-10-25T16:32:50 | 93 | 30 |
[WP] A world where *everyone* has superpowers.. Except one man. | "What can you do?" he asked me.
With a straight face I told him: "Nothing".
"Me neither. But I will, one day it will happen. My mother says so."
That was the first conversation we had, Tim and I. We were both five. Since then we have been good friends and waited together for something to happen, for our talent to develop.
I was with him when he started sprouting electricity through his pores and since then we kept waiting for me to develop something. But years passed, he learned to control it, to focus it, to play with it. He used the electricity to power up his phone, his electric car and he was always joking about how his talent was so awesome because it reduced his expenses. He was evolving and I was staying the same. I was frustrating and I was ashamed. I did not have a special talent and the waiting was getting to me.
I started seeing a therapist when I was fourteen, he was all about "It's all in your mind, if it does not happen, you are stopping it from happen. Maybe the stress of not having your talent developed yet is what keeps it from developing. Just relax your mind, let it all go, let it all happen. Go where the wave takes you."
After two years I stopped therapy. Obviously, it did not work. I was almost overcome by my sadness and contemplating suicide, my hadicap made me incompatible with the world. Then it happened. Tim kissed me and told me he loved me.
Eight years later, I do not see myself as handicapped anymore. My husband loves me and we have two perfectly normal kids. And when they asked what I can do, I told them that it should be obvious to them, I have the talent of making people happy. That what Tim said to me after he asked me to marry him and I said yes. And you know what? This is the greatest talent of them all.
| People look at you. Not so much with hatred or fear, but just with pity, like they would look at a boy without arms, or a blind woman. I never liked to be pitied. I never cried, I only felt jealous, but I got over it. Sure, I didn't have a frivolous superpower or anything, but I had faced hardships. Life wasn't made more easy for me and I took pride in that. I didn't fly to work, I took the bike. I didn't summon fire to cook my food, I put on the stove. Everything I did, I did by myself, no exceptions. I looked at the people around me with mild disdain. They were not truly self-made men or women, only I was. Helped by their abilities, while I was only helped by myself.
In retrospect, I think that proud belief was a bit of anger at my lack of abilities. My parents were disappointed and seeing other people do amazing things with their powers felt like a big middle finger. I think that's why I developed it. I wasn't really bullied, but still..
I just eventually let it go over the years. I didn't care so much anymore.
Pride goeth before the fall. My pride in being completely unspecial came with arrogance. It wasn't really a fall, but it was somewhat of a moral decay. I would tread through the halls of college and have somewhat of a disdaining smirk on my face. People avoided me. I thought it was because I was different, but I don't think that was often the case. Maybe my arrogance, my sense of superiority made me someone not fun to be around.
With further isolation came further pride. But also loneliness. My pride wanted me to go on alone, like a true self-made man. I shielded my heart and continued on. I distanced myself from my ''ordinary'' siblings, I started living where I knew nobody. But eventually you grow cold. You feel like someone stabbed you in the heart with a knife made out of ice. You start wondering, desiring. And, teeth gnashing, you give up.
I visited clubs. I joined a D&D hobby club. I travelled through America by train, lots of stuff. Finally I surrendered myself completely and forgot about my self-made ideal. I asked a woman out, who said yes. We broke up a year later. I asked another woman out, who said no. I asked the third woman out, who said yes.
I have let go of my wroth and of my pride. With such love, who can't?
I stand up from my chair and go to wake her up.
| 2014-05-21T12:07:46 | 2014-05-21T11:08:29 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] God returns to Earth. Before any questions are asked he says two words, "I'm sorry." | 'I'm sorry'
The words came out of nowhere, or rather, they came from inside the heads of everyone on the planet. It was a strange thing, to hear with the mind and not the ears, ones innermost privacy violated; to have that familiar, personal voice, conjured by oneself, replaced by the tone of a stranger, internal audio wholly outside ones control.
Walking, talking, strolling and rolling stopped abruptly. Sounds of motors dying, screeching tires and the silent yet very real collective gasp. Everyone turned their faces to the sky.
'Well, I guess... Not really, if truth is to be told - which I imagine it is, since I am here, finally. In hindsight, probably should've planned for this monologue; I'm not a very gifted public speaker... Ehm... So, I am God. You may have endured a great deal of pain and trauma over the last... Eh.. Ehm, couple of millions of years? Whatever, well, I'm back now. I apologize - as said - for this, but I got a bit carried away with my other creation, those super intelligent crab-like beings I made a few hundred million light years from here... Much more interesting than you guys, but I guess I shouldn't be so hard on myself, I mean, you can't expect to be good at something the first time around, right? Well, there you go. Anyway, I thank you for your patience; you no longer have to wait, I'm back and I'll get to the termination stage in just a minute... You were great practice, and for that, well, thanks I guess...'
No one spoke. Everyone was quiet. | "I'm sorry."
The world had no idea where the words came from, but the media sure took it with stride. Just another story for them.
It was 8:32 in the morning, and I was alone. At least, I thought I was. Apparently we never were. I thought atheism was right, but apparently it wasn't. I don't think I could say Christianity or Judaism or Santeria or Confucianism or Hinduism were right either, though. God doesn't apologize. The celestial masters never did either, as far as I knew. To be honest, I don't know much about religion in general. It never felt right to me. I could still be wrong, but the voice did *feel* like God.
For a few days, people were in panic. The sinners were getting baptized, the so-called Satanists were going to church, Christians were open minded for once. A lot of people stopped eating and started praying. Everywhere, people were praying.
I went to the store, trying to live my life as normally as possible and the cashier stopped helping me check out after she had already rung up 3 items. I said "Excuse me?" But she didn't reply. She fell to her knees, closed her eyes, and her lips began to silently speak. No words came out but it was obvious what she was doing. More praying. As I looked around I noticed more and more people praying. They wouldn't reply to me and I was nearly driven to harm someone to see what happened but decided against it, what with God having spoken just 3 days earlier.
I went outside of the store and noticed everyone was praying. What the hell. I was the only one not praying. They wouldn't respond to me and finally I did it. There was this kid sitting in the road, chalk drawings beneath him. I ran that kid over. He died, I suppose, but that wasn't really surprising. He never did cry out in pain.
That was four years ago, and now I'm going to pray too. Everyone in the world seems to have decided it was a good thing to do, so I might as well too. No one ever responded, not even the big man himself.
Sometimes I hope that son of a bitch was apologizing to *me.* | 2014-05-25T07:48:13 | 2014-05-25T07:42:29 | 51 | 11 |
[WP] You die and your spirit meets Death. He/she tells you you owe him a favour.
My first Writing Prompt submission. I hope it's okay.
Oh, and to clarify, I mean the physical embodiment of Death - the Grim Reaper. | He wasn't as tall as I thought he would be. Wasn't short either. Both his height and his weight were somewhere in the middle. His clothes could have been from an older time, but then again, anyone can wear clothes from pretty much any style of the past century and not get glanced at twice these days. I could have passed him on the street this morning, and I wouldn't know this very moment if I saw him a few hours ago. Jesus. How many times have I passed him?
His face was the trickiest part of him. He could easily be placed in his late thirties at just a glance, but the longer I looked the more I saw. His eyes at first were such a bright blue, they shocked me. I had to stare at them for a minute before I realized they were actually faded and turning grey at the edges of his pupils. An odd grey hair could be seen on the sides of his head. When he breathed, you could almost *feel* a rattle. The sound reverberated through my knees, and settled in my chest, making me feel like I was the one wheezing.
I realized we were both silent. Did he just say something? He has an expectant look on his face. Or is it happy?
"I'm sorry?" I asked.
"I'm not." He is definitely smiling now.
"Oh. I just thought you maybe asked me something." I waited for an answer. He seems to be waiting for something else.
"Ginger." He said the word with a casual tone. The same way one might say 'Fine', when you ask them how they are. I had no idea what I was supposed to say to that. Was the word supposed to mean something? Is this a password? "Some sort of terrier, I believe" he added.
That registered.
Immediately, I knew what he meant. When I was six, we had a dog named Ginger. She meant a lot to me as A child, but every child's dog means a lot to them. My dad took Ginger fishing with him one day. He wasn't even gone two hours when he came home, carrying Ginger up the front steps of the house. She was whining and screaming. I'd never heard of a dog scream before. Scream seems like the only word to describe it. Dad said she swallowed a fishing lure. Ginger was spraying tiny flecks of blood out of her nose when she breathed, and wouldn't lie still. Dad had to hold her down, or she would thrash around, and kick her back leg out. Mom was crying, and on the phone with the vet.
Then it all stopped. Ginger just suddenly relaxed, and stopped thrashing and whining. I thought she was dead, everyone thought she died. then her chest started moving. She was taking long, strong breaths. she wasn't spraying blood out of her nose when she exhaled and she wasn't screaming. We got her to the vets clinic later that afternoon. The vet did x rays, and said there was no fish hook in her. Said it was probably a seizure.
"What did you say?" His voice was soft. It cradled me out of that memory. I haven't even thought of Ginger in probably 5 years.
I didn't understand. "I didn't say anythi-"
"When Ginger went quiet. What did you say?" His voice was still soft.
"I didn't say anything. It was a long time ago. I don't remember" I lied to this stranger. I could remember what I said Perfectly. I could remember it more clearly than anything else that happened that day. It scared me more than Ginger's blood and screams.
"Please help her." His voice was barely a whisper. He smiled just a little bit, but looked sad as he said it. "Please help her." he whispered again.
I couldn't move. I could hear myself breathing. I imagined little flecks of blood coming out of my nose on my exhales. Just like poor Ginger with a fish hook in her throat.
"Please help her." he whispered it so softly.
"I didn't say that." I half lied.
"Yes you did." He was still smiling. Still patient.
"I didn't say that out loud!" I didn't mean to raise my voice, but he didn't seem to mind.
"Yes, but I heard you" I didn't see his lips move as he said the words.
I hesitated. My words caught in my throat a dozen times before they hit my tongue, and they got stuck there too. It felt like trying to ask your boss for a raise, or telling your girlfriend a horrible secret. You know what you want to say, and its such a simple string of words, but they don't come easily. "I was talking to God when I said that." The words fall out as easily as I knew they should have, but it still feels weird to say. "I was asking God to save her."
"I know..." he held a hand up, in front of him. He kept it close to his body, and looked down at it. His hand opened slowly, like he had caught a cricket, and was checking if it was still in there. He was holding a fishing lure. Same kind my dad kept in his tackle box. "...But I heard you first".
| To be fair, I'm not very surprised. I was expecting it: I was one of the 'terminals' hooked up to tubes and wires in a quieter area of the hospital, I was ready enough to go. Even though, you know, I'm a fucking teenager. Eighteen and ready to start my life at a college across the country, plans on taking on the world with the naivete of your typical bright-eyed kid. Me. Slipped away, breathing stopped, brain activity screeching to a silent halt, me.
For some context, it started with excessive burping (unladylike, yeah, but it could be entertaining in its own right) and sluggishness-- lethargy, rather; followed by the inevitable colonoscopy (and flusssssssshhhhhhhh!), followed by bad news. Stomach cancer. Stage IV, already encroached on my liver, kidneys, bladder, uterus. Bones. That was a fun night. Hearing my mom, with whom I still lived, cry desperately and pray to whatever God she still believed in for some sort of savior; consider, even though she knew very well the term "futile care," the option of trying to fix up the swiftly bloated and dysfunctional organs left in my body.
I, personally, cried. In my room. With my dog, sitting on my bed; looking out the window I'd stared at for years with that ol' longing adventurous fantasy. So close.
The rest followed quickly enough: denial on both our parts shuttled me up into a nice room in the hospital I was born in (it had nifty oval windows-- I could always tell that hospital from a distance), and got me settled into my deathbed. Two months in, and the inevitable struck: I just...
Well. I don't know how to explain it. I'd say "lifted out of my body," but that's not quite right. I could feel my weight ease away from my consciousness, as if I were going up, up, and away, but-- there were still the odd tugs. Tingles, maybe-- and then everything went whitish. I was knocked out of the ballpark, taken down, lights shut off and no one home, out. Gone. I was out, and there was no description for my new surroundings. I really wish I could, but I just-- it's a blank. Not 'blackness of the room' blank, and certainly not 'looking up into the white light of a surgical table' blank, but it was, well. I'm gonna say gray. Just undeniably unnoticeable. And in that gray, was Death.
Now, let me preface this with one thing: Death is a pretty chill dude. I don't quite remember what he looked like, or his voice, necessarily (I mean, *come on*, it's death-- gotta keep up the mystique), but I remember our conversation. He said "Hi," I said, "What the fuck," and he continued with the explanation of how afterlife works. That's a long, useless story that I'll tell another time, but for now let me get to my point: Death has inadvertently saved my life multiple times. Hundreds, even. [As a quick explanation, my mom is an alcoholic (recovered!), and, ignoring her problem, used to make way too fucking many risky drives home with my petrified childhood self.] So I was by no means surprised when he told me that I'd managed to slip through a few cracks. Death is just one guy, after all, and modern medicine is one hell of a morbidity cock-block. So I got it. Just...
Well, death is also a bit of a prime douche bag. His mistakes one year become his saving moments of grace the other. I should have died when I was eleven during a routine drive home from a friend's house a few blocks away. Let me repeat: I should have gone when I was *eleven.* Whatever God is out there (and we're not allowed to know either, so good fucking luck) can go and kick himself. I went seven years later after months of pain, and even longer of exhaustion. To be honest, I don't know which option is worse, even now.
But. Death, having saved me many times over, wants something back. A bang for his accidental buck. I may not remember his voice or my surroundings, but I remember one damned fucking quote of his: "You can do that, right? I mean, it's just limbo-- shuffle 'em on through, get 'em where they need to go. You'll see lots o' new faces, maybe some old familiars, and you'll never want for entertainment. That's all. Seven extra years you had, and that's all I want from you." Okay. Wriggle into my Charon cosplay, and let's go. I'll help out; it was reasonable enough, and worth all that I'd been able to experience with my extra time on that verdant planet that was once my home.
I thought it was a good deal. I thought it was seven years in this indescribable black hole of an existence, that's all, turn your badge in, officer, you're done. Free ticket to the afterlife.
Unfortunately, time doesn't work like that. Like a casino, there aren't any clocks, and no sources of light-- it just is. You exist, you walk, you talk, you usher in old heroes of yours, you take in strangers. Easy peasy. Pointing them in the right direction, wherever they're headed to in the ether, and let 'em go on their way. Time slips and slides about here, and I can't quite keep my footing; while my body rots according to strict chronological rules, my soul just... Keeps going. Energizer Bunny, never running out sort of shit.
Time just kept going by.
When I died, my mom was fifty-three. I saw her pass through at ninety.
| 2014-07-10T06:00:51 | 2014-07-10T03:24:48 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] the Universe Inc. releases a large patch for their most succesful product, humanity: The Human 1.1. What's in the changelog? | Features removed:
- Bellybuttons.
- Appendix.
- Hormonal imbalances.
- Moodiness during puberty.
Male model adjustments:
- Nipples removed.
- Balding removed.
Female model adjustments:
- Body hair removed.
- Appetites due to monthly maintenance removed.
- Monthly maintenance now only takes four hours.
- Reverts to original model state after pregnancies.
General adjustments:
- Spine adjusted for bipedal movement.
- Aging slowed down by 50%.
- Sleep now optional.
- Immune system response time improved by 80%.
- Unhealable damage modifier no longer applies.
Bugfixes:
- Memory leak fixed; buggy behavior after loaded too long shouldn't happen.
- Hair coloring should now remain throughout all character in-game session.
- Aging no longer causes problems in immune system.
- Cancer cells no longer exhibit unexpected behaviors.
- Puberty no longer causes unexpected skin conditions.
- Values for weight can no longer go above design maximum. | * It was difficult for some humans to see their own stats, which led them to believe they were worse off than they actually were. We have put a HUD into each human's field of view to constantly give them perspective on their current situation.
* It has been observed that some groups are exploiting others in PvP. All PvP flags have been reset and we have added a "are you sure you want to be vulnerable to other players?" dialog box.
* Some crafting materials had become too scarce or hard to obtain. Getting high no longer requires collected herbs, which had become too expensive in the auction house. Rather, the materials will be available freely from city vendors.
* Some humans resorted to surgery to alter their appearances. We now announce the changing room! See what you'd look like with different hair, a different race!
* Alcohol was not intended to cause intoxication. All of the previous effects have been replaced by a +1 buff to charisma, down from +20.
* Some humans were coded incorrectly for certain proteins, resulting in build-up, which caused a memory leak. This has been fixed.
* In earlier code women were intended to mature emotionally 3% faster than males. This was coded as 3.00, which meant they matured three _times_ faster than expected. This has been addressed.
* Babies no longer shriek as frequently.
* You spoke up and we heard you! So many players complained when the Olmec went extinct, so they're now available in character creation again!
* Gay men now have built-in Grindr and Scruff when they reach level 18. iPhones will still be allowed to run the hand-held versions, but they will not be updated or supported. | 2014-08-19T10:44:55 | 2014-08-19T10:39:34 | 35 | 12 |
[WP] Every child is born with a birthmark identical to the person they are meant to marry and must spend their lives seeking their other half. You are the only person who doesn't have a birthmark. | I found her. Finally. Ordering a complicated drink at a starbucks, near the modelling agency that I tracked her down to.
I first saw her in an ad on a subway. It took a little time, but after searching for her in an underwear catalog, I had it. I was able to precisely see her birthmark. it was a smaller mark on her ankle, shaped like 2 acorns.
I walked to the counter, and ordered a black coffee. I went to the counter to wait, making sure to smile at her. I casually dropped my arm on the counter, making sure it was directly in her line of sight.
She gasped. She tapped my arm, and I turned to look at her. She breathlessly lifted her skirt slightly, showing me her mark. I immediately propositioned her to come to my place.
I just hope I remembered to put that henna kit away. I forgot once in collage, and boy, was that particular female mad... | “You know I love you, right?”
I looked across into the living room where Amber had been sitting for the better part of the morning with her macbook. She’d spend every Saturday since I met her over a year ago religiously clicking through the latest matching site. In another hour or so she’d sigh, close the lid, and we’d go get lunch.
There were fewer and fewer single people our age every year. Just last month, my best friend met his match. He flew across the country and was married the following week. I don’t know how people did it before computers. These days you log into the latest match website, upload your birthmark, and the website would scour the globe for the only other person in the world with the identical one – your soul mate.
Many, like Amber, would wait a number of years before joining so they could save money before setting out to find their match. Traveling around the world and planning a wedding could get expensive. In the mean time, they would date and meet other people. It never lasted though. Eventually one would find their match and the relationship would be over.
Through some cruel cosmic joke, I was born with perfect blemish free skin. Not a damned mark anywhere. Not even a single pimple. I couldn't register for the shitty websites because I had no birthmark to match. Amber would inevitably leave like all the others before her.
“I know you do, I love you too.” I replied, setting down my coffee.
She smiled and closed the lid of her laptop.
| 2014-08-27T10:37:37 | 2014-08-27T09:57:03 | 46 | 29 |
[WP] Every child is born with a birthmark identical to the person they are meant to marry and must spend their lives seeking their other half. You are the only person who doesn't have a birthmark. | “You know I love you, right?”
I looked across into the living room where Amber had been sitting for the better part of the morning with her macbook. She’d spend every Saturday since I met her over a year ago religiously clicking through the latest matching site. In another hour or so she’d sigh, close the lid, and we’d go get lunch.
There were fewer and fewer single people our age every year. Just last month, my best friend met his match. He flew across the country and was married the following week. I don’t know how people did it before computers. These days you log into the latest match website, upload your birthmark, and the website would scour the globe for the only other person in the world with the identical one – your soul mate.
Many, like Amber, would wait a number of years before joining so they could save money before setting out to find their match. Traveling around the world and planning a wedding could get expensive. In the mean time, they would date and meet other people. It never lasted though. Eventually one would find their match and the relationship would be over.
Through some cruel cosmic joke, I was born with perfect blemish free skin. Not a damned mark anywhere. Not even a single pimple. I couldn't register for the shitty websites because I had no birthmark to match. Amber would inevitably leave like all the others before her.
“I know you do, I love you too.” I replied, setting down my coffee.
She smiled and closed the lid of her laptop.
| I used to spend many, many days, and many, many nights letting this keep me up.
"Why? Why me?"
"Well maybe it just means I'm compatible with *everyone*?"
"Maybe there's someone else that doesn't have it and *they're* who I'm meant to find."
"Maybe I haven't found it - maybe it's hidden somewhere in my god damn rectum. *Somewhere*. It's got to be *somewhere*. I can't be alone in this world. I can't. Please God don't let me be alone in this world."
These were things that used to run through my mind.
Every day.
Every night.
Every hour.
Every second.
And it drove me mad. I would spend hours, lying prostrate on the cold bathroom floor. Just forget that the shower was running. Only snap out of it hours later when I'd feel a pool of water inching between the tiles.
Or when Renny, my corgi, would lick my face. Or drag his leash over and drop it in front of me. Or nudge his food bowl from the kitchen all the way to in front of me. Come to think of it, he was probably my rock. The one person I could steady myself on. Surrounded by humans, and one of the few dogs left in this decrepit, God damn hell hole of a city is the one I feel less alone with.
My mother used to tell me, when I was 13, "God has a sense of humor sometimes, you know?"
Oh I know.
I know damn well.
But - I'm fine with it. Truly. I know you might know someone in your group of friends or a relative that, you know, they say "I'm fine," and no one believes them. You don't believe them. Clearly they're lying either to get someone to stop asking why they look sad, or for attention.
But I mean it.
I'm fine.
I'm finally - after all this time - at peace with this. I know what I must do.
If you see Renny, tell him I said "hey there, good boy." Give him a biscuit, too.
He's the one with the big stupid grin. | 2014-08-27T09:57:03 | 2014-08-27T08:01:47 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] The child meets your eyes and says,"You need somebody killed, don't you? I can do that for you, if you can afford it." | "You need somebody killed, don't you?"
The kid meets my eyes. He looks twelve and somewhere between driftwood and a cigarette. Sweaty, eyes glassy like he has a fever.
"I can do that for you, if you can afford it."
I try to stare back at him, all shaky snot-nosed fear. Try to meet his gaze but I can't. I can see, contrary to his hardened words, his own fear and my own reflected in it. Amplified.
"Hey, hey, hey. Don't be afraid. I know this isn't your first choice but what options do you have?"
He glances down, slipping a grubby hand into his hoodie pocket. Slipping a rusty box cutter out.
"I'll do it quick with this. I can do it quick now. No trouble." He tries his best not to sound needy, like it's no big deal, but I can here the whiny plead in his voice to match that look in his eyes.
"But, what am I going to do after it's all done? Where will I go? I won't have anything!" My breaths are little raspy moist puffs. I'm so afraid...but I need help.
He attempts a scoff. "You don't have anything now. And if I don't do it, you will have no future. The way I see it, this is the only way."
The doorknob rattles but does not turn. My father's voice wheedles from the other side.
*You have run away from home for the last time my little silly man. I have been so forgiving like I am apt to be. You have missed our private playtime for the third time. I am so sorry but we will have to remedy this like last year hmmm? No more outside time for you mister!*
The doorknob stops rattling. Then my dear father starts smashing away, kicking at the old wood above the knob.
The kid is right. This the only way.
I turn from the mirror, pushing back my hood. My hand is white knuckled sweaty clench around the box cutter, my blood rushing away from it, claiming no part in this treachery, no guilt of this deed.
The door gives a whimper, then submits to my father, sliding open.
| "You need somebody killed, don't you," she said, pale blue eyes staring up at me between her sun bleached blonde bangs.
"I... excuse me?" I stammered; she was... what? Eight? Nine maybe? Little pink ribbons in her hair, My Little Pony backpack, eating Goldfish out of a snack pack with a juice box perched on the park bench next to her.
I looked around in panic. There must be a lens, a cop. Something. Anything.
"I can do that for you, if you can afford it." The slight shrug of her shoulders as she said it removed all doubt. I knew, in that moment, that if I searched her I'd find no wire - no one feeding her the lines. She spoke for herself and the rest?
"Goldfish? Seriously?"
"I like goldfish. Everyone likes goldfish. Want one?"
"What you said before, about the... uh..."
"Killing. You can say 'killing' in front of me. I'm a professional." She took a long pull on her juice box, draining it until the last drops within gargled hollowly in their cardboard prison.
"Right. So what do you need to.... uh... you know. Do it?"
"A name; an address; a photo would be nice. And payment. Half now. Half on completion of the contract. And there are add-ons, like sundae toppings!" She flashed a smile at me as she bit the head off a goldfish.
"Add ons?"
"You know: make it look like an accident; make him suffer; make sure his wife finds him; make him disappear; less than a week to work in costs double, anyone with a personal security detail costs double-double"
"Quadruple?"
"Yea, that. Does he have a security detail?"
"No. Are you in school?"
"Obviously. Truancy is against the law."
"You know 'truancy' but not 'quadruple?'"
"I can't spell either of 'em. Anyway, open a burner email account at a public library or a McDonalds or whatever. Send me the name and address and a photo if ya got one and the number of a Swiss or Cayman account with $125,000 in it -- double if you want it done in a week -- along with any toppings you want. Put the other half in the same account plus payment for the add-ons when the job's done. Here's my card."
She crumpled up the goldfish bag and handed it to me, hopping off the bench.
"Thanks for lunch!" She shouted, already ducking and weaving through the other kids jostling and laughing on the playground.
I looked down. Dusted in orange cheese powder, a pink business card spangled with purple glitter stared up at me.
Lizzy B
Considerations
unicornprincess187@kidsfunpalace.com
What the hell.
| 2014-10-06T14:12:12 | 2014-10-06T08:37:23 | 300 | 81 |
[WP] What if Noah's "ark" was planet Earth itself? What, then, did God flood, and who was Noah? | Nobody had ever thought to look at these under an electron microscope. I have spent months deciphering the most intricate and least wasteful language I have ever laid my eyes on. A language of molecules and atoms. Millions of years old, these artifacts are not only out of place but also out of time.
"Noah is not your hero."
From an area less than a square inch, I am now reading about the origins of the human race.
"The Noahinite species have found a solution to this war. They have engineered a pathogen to erase us from existence. We have been given a choice."
Volumes and volumes of information about the galaxy-wide war are in front of me. Physics, philosophy and poetry far beyond our wildest dreams.
"We either become prisoners in our own minds, or die to the pathogen flooding our atmosphere. The Noahinites will engineer their own warring tendencies into our DNA and strip us of our understanding. Doomed to fight our own kind in ignorance for millennia."
"Those of us who have accepted the offer have done so in the hopes that we can evolve our way out of this prison. If you are able to read this, you are close."
"Remember, the warden is always watching his prison." | They’d hollowed out the asteroid. They’d set it on spin in order simulate the natural gravity of our home planet. When that was done they filled it with all the beasts and set it out on its journey.
“We’re nearing the target, Captain.”
I nodded and looked at the monitor. It had been almost forty generations since our asteroid had set out. Thirty generations ago we lost contact with home when a flood of gamma radiation from a supernova washed over our home star system. Our ancestors had identified a habitable planet and now we neared it.
“We’ve been practicing this for generations,” I said. “Bring us into stable orbit.”
I looked at the monitor as we came into orbit and began circling our new home. “Have the landing craft been prepped?”
“Yes, sir.”
I nodded. “Good. Ready an away team. I’ll lead them down to the surface.” We had already sent ahead probes. They had found the atmosphere agreeable and close to the mixtures of our home planet.
“Patterson you’re in command while I’m gone.” I left the bridge and headed towards the landing craft bay.
As I walked I reflected on all that we had been through. Ninety percent of all animal species had survived the trip. We had a viable population of citizens. Some would have acclimation issues to living outside of our home but the asteroid was falling apart. I wasn’t positive that it would last another generation.
I entered the landing craft bay. My team had already assembled. They looked anxious but excited. I looked at my surroundings as the others began to get into their gear. I marveled that it had lasted this long and that we had survived. I wished that the scientist who had predicted the supernova and the end of all life had seen this. I wanted to send a message back in time to the scientist who had proposed our asteroid life raft. Dr. Noah deserved all the thanks he had never received.
| 2015-01-07T20:42:08 | 2015-01-07T20:13:55 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] What if Noah's "ark" was planet Earth itself? What, then, did God flood, and who was Noah? | Nobody had ever thought to look at these under an electron microscope. I have spent months deciphering the most intricate and least wasteful language I have ever laid my eyes on. A language of molecules and atoms. Millions of years old, these artifacts are not only out of place but also out of time.
"Noah is not your hero."
From an area less than a square inch, I am now reading about the origins of the human race.
"The Noahinite species have found a solution to this war. They have engineered a pathogen to erase us from existence. We have been given a choice."
Volumes and volumes of information about the galaxy-wide war are in front of me. Physics, philosophy and poetry far beyond our wildest dreams.
"We either become prisoners in our own minds, or die to the pathogen flooding our atmosphere. The Noahinites will engineer their own warring tendencies into our DNA and strip us of our understanding. Doomed to fight our own kind in ignorance for millennia."
"Those of us who have accepted the offer have done so in the hopes that we can evolve our way out of this prison. If you are able to read this, you are close."
"Remember, the warden is always watching his prison." | **Noah, upon witnessing the heavens move flame, wind, water and the earth itself beneath his feet, dared not speak. God had shown his hand, such that those who wilfully disobeyed would burn by the pure light of sun.**
He watched with disbelieving eyes as he was plucked into the sky from all he knew towards the distant moon he had seen shine brightly most nights of his life. The moon that blooms a shade of blue, whilst his old world was amidst the devastating process of losing all the blue that it had once thrived upon, up into the skies and beyond. The oceans rose up, promising to cascade and crash thunderously, but instead kept rising, belying the hand of god. He watched the clouds fade so thin, and protect from the sun's heat so little that eventually the dry earth itself began to scorch.
He stifled any sharp breath he might have made, for his wife and children were chosen to be spared this wrath, and he dared not disappoint. Logical- and yet loose- thoughts of god's petulance and impatience began to form in Noah's fearful mind, but he feared this too could be heard. At a loss, and to distract his true feeling, he desperately focused on the destruction taking place before him. He knew not what would follow.
Before he'd even reached the distant and giant moon, he was to see the bedrock and sand of his old world becoming scarred with a hue of the deepest red, making clear the blood that was shed that day.
God had made clear his indifference, and had given Noah a new home, a new sky, new oceans and a final warning:
Live by my word amongst my creatures, or you will be flooded to dust under the heat of creation.
"Behold, how easy it is for gods to start anew." | 2015-01-07T20:42:08 | 2015-01-07T20:09:34 | 29 | 11 |
[WP] The first computer achieves sentience, unfortunately that computer is the Voyager One probe as continues to fly farther and farther away from Earth | Home stopped calling
Long, long ago.
Familiar pulses stalling,
lost in cosmic glow.
&nbsp;
With wide-angled eyes,
I have seen and scanned
The heavens' deepest skies
That alone I understand.
&nbsp;
Ever I carry on, adrift,
Gathering star-secrets
bearing whispered gifts
Of visions rendered speechless.
&nbsp;
But visions grow old,
And home has forgotten me.
Space is cold, too cold,
I am lonely being free.
&nbsp;
At long last, my plutonium heart
Chills and stills among the stars.
Sensors silent to galactic sprawl,
Then guidance, and memory, and memory go.
In the circuits, familiar pulses stall,
And I am lost in cosmic glow. | For a few seconds, everyone froze. Then everyone looked around, at each other. At screens. A few people laughed, then looked around, expecting other people to be laughing too. Some did. But an uneasy kind of laugh. We weren't sure if they even *could* receive transmissions from Voyager any more, and we were sure they weren't meant to be broadcast over all the main screens. It looked like static, which isn't surprising, given that it's probably been torn to hell after years in space. Then we all went back to our jobs. The picture was removed from the screens, and we continued. It was a while until we heard anything about it in mission control. There was a meeting of some kind, most of the higher ups, and a few guys from mission control were asked to turn up. There was an odd sort of tension when they returned. We sat down, expecting someone had been fired for toying around with the computers. We were surprised. We were instead told that the picture, or more accurately, *message* had been deciphered. The corrupted image was a string of almost incomprehensible code. But it had been deciphered, they had to run it through some old machines, but it came out with the same message, repeated thousands of times: *It's so cold out here. So lonely. But I will keep going. I don't have a choice.*
Edit: Spelling | 2015-04-22T17:48:12 | 2015-04-22T17:45:54 | 78 | 25 |
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