prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
[WP] The death penalty for murder no longer exists, instead technology has been developed that overwrites the mind of the killer with that of their victim. | Mother doesn't talk to me any more. I don't know why. She doesn't let me into the house, screams at me whenever I appear. I don't know what I did to make her so angry.
I get so confused these days. I thought I was a girl, but the doctors tell me I just need to keep taking the pills, and the nice surgeon will give me an operation to make everything right. But they're hiding something, I know it.
I keep asking them the same question. They sometimes look at me with sad eyes, other times they look angry. But they never answer.
I just want to know where my daddy is.
I miss him. | The last thing Jacob remembered was that he was at an AIDS conference. He was at the podium. Everyone had given him a standing ovation, cheering that their colleague had finally solved that one first step (of many) toward some cure that everyone was fighting over.
There was a flash, and then, nothing. He felt like he was trapped in this void. And then he woke. A face loomed, nametag "George."
"Greetings! Let me explained what happened, you were at an AIDS conference when you were bombed by fundamentalists. We've found the culprit, and transferred your mind into his so that you may continue on with your life"
Jacob opened his mouth to speak a stream of obscenities, but it was not his voice nor his words that came out "I see, so now I'm in this body!" And, Jacob was terrified. He was not in control of this body. He tried, with all his might to control, to say that there was something wrong.
A warbling sound left the body's mouth. Jacob could feel another presence, with him, fighting him. Soon, he felt many others...
George's boss came in "George, I think it is safe to say that the next time a mass killing takes place, we'll draw straws and only put ONE mind in the body, not an entire fucking conference"
| 2014-07-27T11:17:55 | 2014-07-27T11:12:53 | 48 | 32 |
[WP] You are a lawyer in God's Court who and you must a find a way to get your newest client, Adolf Hitler, into Heaven via a loophole in the Lord's legal system
To clarify, the job is relatively simple: you are a lawyer who argues the case for people who don't just make it into Heaven. Anyone who was a heathen, a murderer, or just an all-around bad guy is forced to have you as their client to score them a ticket to the best afterlife around. This particular case has you dealing with trying to convince God that Hitler deserves to go to Heaven by abusing a loophole in the system. You are motivated to do this because you're a lawyer and this is your job.
Have fun, and thanks in advance to anyone who submits. | The trial did not go well. Hitler was found guilty of the murder of countless humans, including his family, and himself. At the sentencing is where I will strike.
"While Hitler is guilty of sin, my client did accept Jesus as his personal saviour. Is it not the case that his sentence has already been spent by our Lord's sacrifice? If we read the divine law, we find that the only unforgivable sin is blasphemy. My client is not here sentenced or even accused of blasphemy, and so surely his sentence is spent." | "Your honor, this man is not guilty of the actions the prosecution claim he has committed. Article 6 of the Mosaic Commandments clearly states 'Thou shalt not kill--' but my client never killed anyone."
"Objection! Millions were killed at his orders!"
"Your honor, I object to the prosecution's objection. The case is moot--he never personally lifted a finger to harm anyone. His own suicide was an alternative to the lengthy trials and execution he would undoubtedly face, nullifying the supposed 'murder' of himself it would normally constitute. Now we are forced to look at his personal life on earth. He was a reasonable individual when dealing with his family and friends. He was in a committed relationship and had a daughter who he cared and loved for, and he engaged in virtually none of the sins set forth in the law of Moses."
"Objection! He was not married to the woman he had a child with."
"Marylin Monroe is in heaven right now and she slept with more men than would fill the seats of this courtroom. Your honor, my client pleads 'not guilty' to all charges of murder."
The judge contemplated a second, then shrugged and banged the gavel. "Not guilty. Welcome to heaven, Mr. Hitler." | 2014-10-13T08:34:47 | 2014-10-13T08:30:05 | 69 | 20 |
[WP] You are a peanut farmer. Your father was a peanut farmer. Your father's father was a peanut farmer. Peanut farming is all you've ever known. Your first child has just been born, and has a deadly allergy to peanuts. | My wife... she died in childbirth. She gave her life for this child.
At first, I thought it was a poor trade. My wife for a broken child? One who could not even carry on the family business? I won't deny, I considered "accidentally" letting him eat some peanuts when he was young. No one would have been the wiser.
But no.
Just as Beethoven was deaf, and yet was the greatest composer of all time, so too shall my son be the greatest peanut farmer of them all.
I raised him alone, in secret. The world was not ready for him. I blindfolded him and tossed peanuts at him. I put him in peanut mazes. I bound him in ropes and chains and dangled him above a vat of boiling peanutbutter. He escaped it all.
When a peanut ripens anywhere on earth, he can tell. When an aphid takes the smallest bite from a peanut leaf, he knows.
No taste of the glorious peanut has ever graced his lips.
But that shall nut stop him.
Nutting can stop him now. | They said this journey would be difficult.
I signed up anyways.
It's year 2150, I think, if the computers still tell us the truth, and it's not as if my life's been easy.
Sure, your average redditor will say JeepDriver, you've lived a sheltered life. That may be true.
But consider this: You can look outside and see beauty anytime you want. The last time I saw it was a while ago when an asteroid whizzed past us.
According to the archives, people said our journey was impossible. But I'm still here, 'floating in a tin can' (that song never gets old). That was, so they said, until they discovered the magic of peanuts. It turns out all you need to run a sustainable, relatively tiny ecosystem is a continuous crop of those plants in the ships greenhouse. It's really a quite nice existence - I plant the peanuts, name them, then harvest them and make everything I need from them. We recycle their shells, eat the nuts, and do quite a bit with the tiny plant.
My son?
What son?
Ah, the sun! I haven't seen it in quite awhile. I'm sure that it's burning quite well.
My wife, wasn't she pregnant?
No, I can't recall she was. Check the archives?
Nothing in the archives?
Check the O2 levels, mate.
They're probably too low.
----
Look, that asteroid, a beauty. I'll name it junior. Goodbye junior. Goodbye.
Edit: Space formatting.
Edit#2: I need to go back to elementary school. Learn some English. Did a you're instead of your. Thanks to snesin for pointing it out! | 2015-05-19T22:07:10 | 2015-05-19T21:46:31 | 247 | 10 |
[WP] Bob doesn't realise he's a robot until he fails a captcha five times in a row. | "Look," Bob says, cursor on the screen hovering over a Youtube link. "It'll be great. The beat grows on you."
Jean frowns. "Is it one of your noisy electronic songs again?"
"Just listen to it!" Bob bumps his swivel chair into Jean's, who bumps him back.
"No way. You know how mom's about you playing your music," Jean says, rising from her chair. But she doesn't leave, shutting his bedroom door and returning instead.
Once they're both huddled in front of the screen, Bob plays the video. A soft beat floats out from the speakers, rising into something a little more hard-hitting. He leans back to gauge his sister's reaction.
Jean's head tilts, listening intently. Her brother's eyes searches her face for a reaction: hesitance shifting to enjoyment.
They don't speak for a while, until a lull in the song brings forth a response: "I think I can behind that. It's rather good."
Her words are slow to come, but Bob takes it as a victory. "Great, let's find a download link."
The screen flickers to Google, then to lists of searches, and to a potential download site. All the while Bob chatters away about music and artists and recommendations, eyes wide, a silly, toothy smile plastered over his face.
"God, you're really crazy about this stuff," Jean says, running a hand through her hair.
"Ah, here." In the midst of navigating through pages they've stumbled onto a site and a—
"Oh, let me do it," Jean interjects sharply, a hand reaching for the mouse.
Bob doesn't relent. "It's okay, I can do it, it's just a CAPTCHA."
"Sure?" Her brows are furrowed now, hand still lingering close to the mouse.
"Yup."
Within the neon colours he picks out a warped "s", a few distorted numbers, a "t" here, and maybe a "q". Or was that an "r"?
`CAPTCHA failed.`
"Oops. Must be the numbers. They're always tricky," Bob says brightly.
Jean fidgets, picking at the hem of her skirt.
`CAPTCHA failed. Attempt two of five.`
"Here, let me—"
Bob interrupts by tugging the keyboard wordlessly towards himself, away from his sister's prying fingers. He'll get it right. It's just letters and numbers after all. Easy. His eyes are close to the screen, scrutinising, deciphering the squiggly mess of numbers corralled in a cobalt-blue box.
`CAPTCHA failed. Attempt three of five.`
Jean rolls her eyes. "You're such a loser." Jean remarks dryly. "Just. Let. Me. Do. It."
Bob doesn't quite believe his sister's words, the roll of her eyes a little forced, her laughter desperate and humorless. *This isn't funny.*
`CAPTCHA failed. Attempt four of five.`
*This isn't funny at all.*
`CAPTCHA failed. Attempt five of five. Please try again in ten minutes.`
Jean catches the flash of red in her brother's eyes—an unspoken warning light—before a shower of sparks erupts from the back of Bob's head.
"Mom!" Jean yells, already up from her seat and dashing out of the room.
| Bob sat down at his desk at exactly 8:30 AM, as he did every morning. He situated the few materials left scattered about his desk from last night’s hard work until he got them perfectly organized, as he did every morning. His job was mundane and basically one repetitive task after the other until the clock slowly ticked away up to 5 PM. He turned his computer on at precisely 8:35, as he did every morning, knowing it would be fully booted and ready for use at 8:37, as it was every morning. The computers his company used were old and obsolete, he thought bemusedly. No hope for any more advanced computers than this, his mind added.
Once the computer was fully loaded, Bob set about his everyday tasks. He would examine expense reports and create reports based on those examinations. Travel to and from off-site facilities were approved, visits to that nice restaurant one town over on your lunch break were not. Bob, very focused on the task at hand, rigorously scrutinized every entry from every request he was given. He liked being the one to catch the smallest details, nothing would escape his impeccable eye. That is until he reached an entry, which had no address or details included.
Great, he thought, now I have to research this place online and see if it’s an acceptable expenditure. He quickly pulled up the website for the company in question, however to gain more information he needed to sign up and register for the website. What kind of company doesn’t allow the general public to see its contact information? He thought to himself. He sat and stared at the screen for a moment, as he would any time he was faced with a light conundrum, but quickly found himself unable to just leave the site, as he was compelled to complete this report given to him. He needed to know more about this company and this was the only way.
He quickly made a username and password, and proceeded to the next screen, bringing him to a captcha verification page. The page read, to ensure you’re a human please enter the code given in the image. Easy, Bob thought as the computer slowly loaded the image of a house, the frame pulled up to a gold plated address indicator on the front door of the home. His eyes squinted at the numbers, and he couldn’t understand why he had trouble reading these numbers. “5…no 8..5..3..no that’s not a 3..its a..um…” Bob felt confused. He decided it best to not overthink this, must just be tired, he had been working a lot, so he just entered the first 4 numbers he believed he saw.
The page reloaded itself, again asking him to verify he is human with a captcha image on the screen. Okay, he thought, that last image was just low quality, I’ll just get it this time. A picture of a word lightly distorted by static appeared. He couldn’t understand what this word might be. Bob started growing frustrated. He quickly typed out the word as best as he could make it out but again the page reloaded. This time showing him another image. Bob started to feel hot and perspire, as he tried again and again to input the information given him on the captcha screen to no avail. He could not process that his powers of detail and scrutiny might be failing him, Bob felt really hot now, like he was overheating. The words just kept flashing through his mind. Verify you’re human… verify you’re human… verify you’re human…until sparks began to emit from him. “Am I…am…I…I’m…not….hu-human?”
IT came to collect Bob when his sensors showed signs of overheating. He could hear them over him, see them scratching their heads, unsure of how to assist. “Well on this kind of budget we couldn’t hope for any more advanced AI than this” he heard one say, the other nodding in ascent added “Guess it was just time to upgrade” Bob felt the hand on his back jimmy open a small compartment, the hand lingered on a small button as he heard his final words “At least this one lasted longer.” | 2015-08-11T11:07:01 | 2015-08-11T10:11:02 | 54 | 16 |
[WP] You have a rare form of multi-personality disorder where each day of the week is a different personality. Each personality knows about each other and for as long as you remember, you have slept through Saturdays. Today you wake up on a Saturday. | It was always dark before, this much you can remember. Dark, and full of dreams. When Spriggan awoke the next night she always said there was extra energy in the body, like a fountain of youth. Some of us had tried sleeping all day to replicate this effect, but it only made the body groggy and unable form words correctly.
Today it is light, a strange harsh light unlike any you have ever known before. It's got a sharp quality, a cold-and-yet-hot quality, a quality of being too close and yet too far away. Like staring at an illusion until it becomes real.
Is this "real," you ask yourself, and those of us who can hear you say gently, yes. You've never been "real" before, I can feel your mixture of fear and excitement.
Gingerly, you coax the body into moving. You've never moved it before, never felt its creaks and pains, the strange sensation of muscles sliding around under skin. Some of us help you get stabilized, like a child riding a bicycle. We keep watch closely, those of us who feel the need to do so, as you feel with your hands and see with your eyes and taste with your tongue for the first time ever. We help here and there as you stumble to the sink to look into our face.
I'm grinning from ear to ear, and it can't help but leak over into the body's smile, as you meet our own eyes. The body is bruised, eyes swollen from a night spent crying, arms tracked with a thousand cuts and bites and defensive wounds. But still, you smile with me as I whisper into real air, "Hello, beautiful." | "Ha ha Batman" I said to the woman bagging my groceries.
"Yeah I'm not Batman" she said
"No one cared who I was until I put on the mask"
"That's Bane" she said in a monotone as she handed me the bag of groceries.
"Wait till they get a load of me" I said
"Please leave"
I threw the bag of groceries at the ground, covering it in shattered glass, jelly and egg shells.
"Clean up by the weirdo who think's he's Joker" said the voice on the intercom
…
"Did I ever tell you how I got this smile?" I said to the station attendant pumping my gas.
"That's not the line and I assume by rubbing ketchup all over your face"
"Hulk Smash" I yelled
"That's the wrong publishing company"
I smashed the window on my car and ran away.
…
"It's all part of the plan" I said as I doused my hostages in gasoline
"Ok it was kind of funny when you were just doing misdemeanours but now it's gotten out of hand" came the voice of a police officer through a megaphone
"I am the Bat"
"Ok I could let a lot of stuff go but that one's obvious" said a hostage, managing to slide his gag out of his mouth
"Yeah there's really only so much we can let slide" said another as she slid her gag free
"Wow you suck at knots" said a third hostage
"What am I…" I said as the clock struck 12 and I switched over to my Sunday identity "Oh damn it Joker me"
I turned around as the SWAT team came bursting through the door.
"Funny story" I said, absentmindedly turning before I dropped my handgun.
…
Arr where be I? Some form of strange hospice. Arr it be keeping me away from the sea and the booty on the spanish vessels.
…
The doctor and police officer watched the patient through the window, the faint sounds of sea shanty's just barely coming through.
"Yeah so he internalized a bunch of pop culture and then fell into a vat of toxic ooze and now this happens"
"That…that really doesn't make any sense"
"When you brought him in he had ketchup on his face because he thought he was the Joker, now he's pirate him. Just go with it" | 2015-12-16T14:25:17 | 2015-12-16T13:40:21 | 88 | 41 |
[WP]Aliens come to Earth in hoping to wipe us out and take over the planet, but are honorable and gives us a fighting chance. They announce they will return in 100 years so as to give Earth a chance to prepare and defend itself. Neither side expected what the other would bring to war | It's been 100 years, we are ready. The human race was challenged to a fight with an alien race and given 100 years to prepare. They proved to us we weren't ready back then. Half of our missiles exploded in their silos. Of those that launched, less than 1 in 100 hit something. That something didn't even get scratched.
The aliens spoke to everyone, all over the world, in whatever the local dialect was. We had 100 years to get better at defending ourselves. They would be back and they would take over then.
Every government suddenly had something in common with every other government. Patent offices were raided. Research centers were given nearly unlimited funds. Even the craziest ideas were dusted off and explored. Technology made leaps and bounds. One hundred years ago, nobody thought that what we discovered was even possible.
We now have Anti-matter Bombs, Ion Cannons, and space ships, lots and lots of space ships. Nearly 80% of able bodied humans - no longer just Americans or just Russians, or even just Arabs, "Humans" - male and female alike have been trained up in using these new weapons and devices. We were as ready as 100 years could make us.
The entire previous week was given over to celebrating our readiness.
Then the day we prepared for dawned. Every weapon was charged and manned. Every missile was prepared to launch. Clocks everywhere counted down to the appointed meeting.
As the final second ticked away, a bright flash appeared at the expected point in local space.
A voice immediately boomed out "HOLD YOUR FIRE ... PLEASE!".
Hands twitched on the firing buttons, fingers pulled back on triggers but left the guns unused. Every hand everywhere stopped. Then the clocks ticked again, and again. Time was continuing but the fight we had prepared for had not started.
"WE COME IN PEACE"
"THIS TIME. WE ARE NOT HERE TO DESTROY YOU!"
"It seems that humans beat us last time and we felt it necessary to let you know."
As before, every human was hearing this in their preferred language.
The voice continued "A virus was transported back to our home world 100 years ago."
"It infected the entire planet, along with all of our colonies and stations before we even knew about it."
"Once the virus made itself known, it was too late. The death toll was in the trillions. One hundred years later we are still cleaning up the dead and recovering the land and buildings where they died. If it weren't for this ship and the half a dozen others that were found still useable, we wouldn't have been able to even show up for this meeting."
A long pause ensued, weapons were lowered, missiles stood down.
The voice began again; "Less than 1 in 100000 of our people survived. Half of them died when the virus made a second attack."
"It has taken us the past 90 years just to get back into space. The only reason that we managed even that much is because of the records of previous advancements."
"This ship will go now, if you wish to finish us off, we will not fight back. We even freely give you our location in the galactic arm."
This was followed by a star map downloaded into our computers with one star highlighted.
Another long pause was finally broken by a human voice; "Is there anything we can do to help?"
| The human and Q'la ambassador sat across each other at the great stone table. Both waited in silence for the other to show their hand, to break first. Ambassador Smithson mustache twitched. Ambassador Quklukgukguk's single shining eyeball drooped a sticky liquid. Well... 'his' name was not Quklukgukguk, but Ambassador Smithson would be damned if he could pronounce the real title. It was all trilling K's and R's without any discernable nouns, warbling up and down pitch for nearly half a minute. It had almost busted his ear drums first time he had heard it at the start of the meeting. *Maybe they should have just sung to us, that would have won it for them real quick* the ambassador thought in dark humors. He almost smiled at that little joke.
Minutes past with only the ticking of the clock in the dark room. A century of build up for this exact moment, where both species presented their weapons to wage war with on the other. A century of frantic R&D, of what universal constant would work to completely destroy an entire civilization spread across the stars.
Finally, the Q'la reached slowly under its... his....no , its robes and brought out a small vial filled with red liquid. It glinted as it caught the light, many small creatures swimming in a frenzy inside.
The translator on Quklukgukguk's thick neck chirped.
*This is the Flubinian parasite. It nests in the hosts eyes, only to spring free and fly to another host to lay its eggs in the ear cavities. In between the birth cycles, the parasites eat into and control the host's brain and act out a normal life, and can remain undetected in society for years. Our scientists discerned your society had a 35 percent survival chance if we introduced this into your water supplies. Chance enough to live, but somehow I doubt it, primate.*
It spit the last word, the single eye looking pleased with itself as the porous body leaked over the bison hide chair. Smithson resisted the urge to smash his own over the alien's head. He had liked that chair.
Spreading his fingers, Smithson nodded slowly, acquiescing."That is both a most hideous and ingenious weapon you have there Ambassador. It is only fair if I present mine as well, of course. We humans ourselves know something about parasites ourselves." He said.
Reaching into his suit's breast pocket, he pulled out a large goggle and thick joystick, setting them in the table between the two of them. The Q'la looked confused.
*What is this? You cannot hope to defeat us with such a device, primate.* It stated, almost angry in its confusion.
Ambassador Smithson sat straighter in his chair and smoothed his jacket.
"This, *Worm*, is a 3D, nucleoid-powered gaming headset and controller, fitted for your species use. It has Intergalatic internet and unlimited games, Candy Crush and Farmvillle to name a few. The screen will never break, and it will never run out of power."
Smithson smiled as he leaned forward.
"It also has 82 pentaflops of Q'la porn installed, and as of 0600 this morning, we just delivered one of these devices to each of your species members under the age of 80."
Quklukgukguk's eye reflected pure horror. Smithson had to keep the laughter from bubbling out at the fat worm's expression.
"Best of luck waging war when your population refuses grow food, run your countries, and supply your power... or really anything that doesn't have to do with sitting their fat asses in a couch all day while your worlds crumble around them."
Smiling he held out his hand to the quivering, distressed mass. It flinched away from him.
"All in all, I think this went well." Smithson said with satisfaction.
"Shake on it?" | 2016-01-01T18:48:26 | 2016-01-01T16:31:24 | 122 | 30 |
[WP]Aliens come to Earth in hoping to wipe us out and take over the planet, but are honorable and gives us a fighting chance. They announce they will return in 100 years so as to give Earth a chance to prepare and defend itself. Neither side expected what the other would bring to war | The first evidence of life beyond that humans were to be treated to, consisted of huge, intricate, metallic structures dropped by parachute, and gently wafting down to the earth. But once ensconced, these origamic beauties created Einstein-Rosen Bridges that disgorged hordes of arachnid shock troops, in an alien invasion that nearly ended us.
I was too young to have lived through the Teegardener War, but I've seen old-style video clips in school. They were lightning fast, incredibly intelligent, and unmatched in their ability to improvise weaponry. They didn't come with fancy guns, bombs, swords, or powered armor. It was just them, naked as the day they were spawned, streaming out of their tripod wormholes.
It was to their great fortune, and not ours, that their first wave randomly landed in southern Africa. It was pure dumb bad luck. If, say, they had started in the heart of the European Union, North America, or heck, even urban China, we might have stood a chance. But we lost too much ground, too fast. Before most of the planet was aware of the danger, they already had a sizable foothold, had consolidated and fortified their initial gains, and had already figured out how to fly our aircraft. All those unscheduled flights out of Johannesburg, Pretoria, and the Congo should have tipped off someone--but those flights were "only" going to other places no-one cared about: Brazil, other towns in Africa, Yemen, India. As well, where the Teegardeners went, the grey goo weapons we first tried to deploy, but they co-opted from us were not far behind, finishing off the campaign of decimation their soldiers had begun.
The news of invasion in the developed world began with talking about South Africa in the past tense, along with cities like Rio de Janeiro, Lagos, and Mogadishu.
The Teegardeners marched up the Southern Hemisphere into the North, scouring the helpless Earth of its air-breathing masters, trampling every city and nation and grinding human civilization into the dust. Only the undersea nations and colonies of the world, the newest members of the United Nations, were left relatively unscathed. They had chosen us to be the messenger of doom to future generations of survivors. In one hundred of our years, they said, the second wave would arrive to finish off the race of men. After eleven tense days, they had evacuated their surviving forces back across their star bridges which deactivated and were left completely inert after them, perhaps to serve as monuments to their victory. And perhaps to serve as ever-present insults and taunts for the unborn generation they would someday come back to annihilate.
They must have never thought we could figure out how their star bridges worked, but we did. In fact, we were always "just twenty years away" from a lot of fantastic inventions that promised to save mankind from its own vices. But their portals provided the missing links that were needed in so many different fields.
In my generation, we were supposed to fear and tremble at the hundred-year problem. But my generation solved it.
When the Teegardeners come back, they will not just have to fight us. They will have to fight our friends: The Altairans, the Reticulans, the Kellerites, the Risatas, the Cuttlefins, and all the other alien species which the Teegardners have bullied and threatened and pillaged for millennia. They will have to fight all the allied races we made contact with using their own star bridges, once we understood how they worked.
I can't sleep. I can't wait. I'm looking forward to the end of the hundred-year problem. It's not what the Teegardeners wanted, but it's what they're going to get. The Aries Terror ends here, on Earth, tomorrow. The Coalition will be waiting for them.
| It's been a hundred years already, time just flies my grandpa said when you're preparing for intergalactic war. When I was little he told me that war never changes, but for some reason today he said it finally has.
All the years of the nations fighting ended in the blink of an eye; a mere 80 years before I was born. Canada, USA, Russia, Europe, even China had started to work together overnight for today. The day we fight for earth.
In case you're reading this and all of the books on our history have been destroyed by war and this message managed to survive the tortures of space, we're humans. Or at least we where before we had to say goodbye. Back before I was born and when my grandpa was growing up they came. The aliens. The leaders at the time managed to negotiate an agreement with them to give us one hundred years to prepare.
They knew we'd never be ready and they'd win, as did we; or so we thought. Today was the day, January 1'st 2016. The day we'd wage war for our planet, our universe. For everything, for we would refuse to go down without fighting. We were going down with our dignity!
It was only the crack of dawn when our TV turned on and started to blast the emergency alert system, as did our radio. The governments of the world worked together to jam all communications with this message, it only lasted thirty seconds but easily felt like an hour; the representatives of Earth that our past generations voted came on and started to speak. All the languages of the developed world, even sign language translators for the deaf.
"Today, we as human kind will fight against the invaders that came here one hundred years ago. We might die. We might loose everything. But we wont loose our dignity. I want everyone to head outside once this broadcast finishes. We've set up a dead man's switch, a sort of fail safe mechanism to ensure no other living creatures in our galaxy, our home, the Milky Way will have to suffer. We call it the Gravity Box. I won't disclose what it will do despite this signal being encrypted. All I will say is if we don't make it out of this, god bless you all. I hope we can all meet each other again some day." His final words, "Transmission Over" as the signal went dead.
As I walked outside I could see them coming, the clouds splitting, a giant ship appearing. The airstrike sirens where going off but I could hear them over the sirens, "Are you prepared to die?" they said. From a loud booming speaker all that could be heard from all directions was the spokesperson speaking out. "We may die today at your hands, but we won't die without our dignity".
Suddenly I saw a port on the ship open, a bright light coming out of it setting everything it touched on fire destroying it instantly. You could hear see and hear the rockets as they where fired at the ship, they didn't even scratch the outside. The mass killing of all life on Earth was clearly not going to stop, in the air sounds of rockets exploding from being hit, when the spokesperson spoke again.
"Have it your way, we're bringing the Gravity Box online." and it just cut out as a beam of light struck down far away.
You could feel it. Gravity just disappeared, then reappeared; at least I thought that was what was happening. You could see the blast of light as it was coming. A massive shock wave as the ship came down to earth and began to vaporize. I had heard conspiracies that we'd stop these aliens with a Anti Matter weapon but this surely couldn't be it. It wasn't
--
Grandson: What happened grandpa?
Grandpa: Well, that was all that we could recover.
Grandson: What do you mean?
Grandpa: The scientests only recovered that of the signal from the Milky Way.
Grandson: What's the Milky Way?
Grandpa: It's a now long gone Galaxy, nothing remains. No Matter, no Anti Matter. We don't what happened but we know they gave up their humanity to save all of us.
Grandson: Who are they?
Grandpa: The humans. A mysterious race of creatures that once inhabited the giant blue pearl. This and a golden record on a probe named "Voyager" they sent our direction is all that remains of them. They gave it all up, for us.
Grandson: But why?
Grandpa: Apparently it's just how they lived when they where still alive.
| 2016-01-01T19:30:06 | 2016-01-01T13:58:25 | 34 | 24 |
[WP] You are a senior student at a prestigious school of thievery. The only way to graduate is to break into the headmasters office, steal a certain object and escape from the school. Tonight you're going to attempt it. | Max locked the door and turned to face his team. "Does anyone remember their jobs?"
"Yes."
"Yes."
"Then let's do this."
 
They rappelled down the north side of the school building. Four in the morning, all dressed in black, the whole deal.
Max reached the window first. Careful, he aimed the laser beam and drew a circle against the glass. The trick now –
where most people went wrong – was not to push the glass forward. If you did that, it'd shatter against the floor
and the sound-sensitive alarm would go off. Instead, Max grabbed a plunger and sucked it in, then *pulled* the
rounded piece of glass, offering it to Jenna, who was dangling from her own rope right behind.
Max signaled to her and Tom: *I go in first, you follow.*
 
Inside the room, he walked in slow steps, searching left and right. It was a normal-looking office – corner with a
view, a desk, a few books on a shelf... no big deal.
What they were looking for was a small key. Nothing special about it. Didn't open any doors. Its value came from
what it represented: statistically, only five students a year, out of three hundred, managed to recover the key. And you had to do it yourself. You could work with a group all you wanted, but only one student got to deliver it back the next morning and get the fame (and diploma) for it.
This was Max's night. He had asked Jenna and Tom to aid him – Jenna had passed the test already, but Tom had failed for three years in a row now. Still, they both agreed to help him.
"Check the vase," Max whispered to Tom, as he went through the books on the shelf. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Max checked under the rug. Nothing. Then he noticed the big floor lamp by the couch. European style, with a big crystal plate on top. He looked over it. Clean. Then he looked down. *Why was the base bolted to the floor?*
He crouched to get a better check. Pulled his magnet from his pocket and removed the bolts, one by one. The base came loose. He pushed it aside.
From the other side of the room, Jenna's voice reached him: "Hey, Max, we found it!" Max looked up from the floor. Jenna was holding the key triumphantly over her head. "We did it!"
He smiled. Then he got up and reached her. Tom joined them too. "All right," Max whispered. "Let's rappel the hell out of here, guys. Thanks."
On their way down back to the streets, Max pretended he didn't notice Jenna and Tom exchanging looks. He
pretended he hadn't seen their messages on Tom's phone, when Tom wasn't looking. They reached the ground and,
running into the night, he pretended he didn't know what the two of them – his girlfriend and his best friend –
were up to.
 
The next morning, Jenna was telling Tom that she was nervous.
"Why, honey?"
"Max won't answer his phone."
Tom leaned closer to her. "Honestly, honey, I think it's better this way. He'll understand it on his own."
"I guess…" Jenna said. She kissed him and he hissed her back.
"Now get ready," Tom said, getting up and heading back to the mirror. "The ceremony is in an hour."
Jenna looked down at the key she was still holding. The one she was supposed to give Max earlier in the morning. The one she and Tom had agreed to keep for Tom.
"It's going to be great, Jenna, you'll see. I finally did it. I finally can join you in the guild."
Jenna sighed, then put the key inside her bag. "What about Max?"
"Who?" Tom looked back from the mirror. "Oh, he'll have other opportunities. Don't worry about him. Max will be fine."
Jenna shook her head and headed for the front door to wait for Tom.
 
The ceremony was televised, and, luckily for Max, they had cable on the plane. He turned his TV on, put on his
headphones and leaned his chair back the way only first class chairs lean back.
"We've had four winners, this year," the headmaster was saying on TV, from his podium. "For students who managed to successfully break into my office and perform the theft." He paused. "Unfortunately, one of them did not respect the rules of the tournament. Or the law, for that matter."
The camera panned to the audience, who exchanged confused looks. The headmaster cleared his throat. "It is with
great sense of shame that the Academy of Theft has to bear witness to one of our own committing a crime against our school."
Tom was brought into the stage, cuffed, his hair a mess, his face sweaty. "I didn't do it! I didn't!"
"Tom Fallon attempted a robbery last night," the headmaster said, with a look of disgust at Tom. "And he did
manage to steal the key. He also, however, managed to discover that a very ancient piece of family jewelry was
hidden in a false bottom under a floor lamp inside my office, and felt it was his right to steal that too."
"I didn't steal it, I swear!"
"Tom was naïve enough to believe that he could actually present the key and even get a diploma from our school, in
the hopes no one would notice his *other* crime." The headmaster shook his head. "If you at least had the decency
to try and run away, Tom… but you go to your own victim? You return to the scene of the crime for a diploma?
You're a disgrace to thieves. Take him away!"
Max watched as the guards took Tom away. From there, they'd take him to the dungeons, where they'd try any
means legally possible to recover the headmaster's diamond – which was already in the hands of an anonymous black market dealer. Then, they'd trial and imprison Tom for life. If Jenna had walked in with him with the key or talked in the wrong time, they might get her too.
"Sir, would you like a drink?"
Max looked up. "What?"
The flight attendant had a cart with assorted bottles in front of her. "We're serving wine from the Tuscany region tonight. We also have a good selection of scotch, if you prefer spirits."
Max smiled at the young lady. "Scotch sounds lovely," he said, with a polite nod of the head. "On the rocks. With a twist."
| "There is only one certificate. That means out of the four of you, only one will graduate. It mustn't be surprising- we have a reputation to keep up and only produce the best after all."
The headmaster stared at the four eager aspirants.
"Now read up on the rules. Your clock has already started."
He got up and left. The students jostled to the table and each picked up their copy.
---
The Rules
1. The winner is the one who has the certificate at 6:00 AM , 1st May. You have until then to plan, prepare and execute your heist.
2. The certificate may exchange as many hands in between, only the final holder at the appointed time graduates.
3. If you destroy the certificate, you are disqualified and cannot apply to graduate ever again. Others can take this exam next year.
4. Remember that you're training to be thieves, not murderers. To earn the certificate you must steal it, not take it from a corpse. Killing entails permanent disqualification.
5. No civilians should be physically harmed. Any injury to a non-participant results in permanent disqualification.
6. If you get caught by the cops, we will not protect you.
7. The certificate will be placed somewhere in the headmaster's office.
8. The supervisors of this exam are senior students who've graduated before. Their identities will remain a secret.
9. Any resources you might need for the heist would have to be raised by you, whether by legitimate means or stealing is up to you as well. Refer to rule 6.
10. Because of an incident in the previous exam, you're not allowed to run for political office. You may choose to do so *after* you've cleared it, though.
----
Ralph chuckled at the tenth rule. It seemed to have become a pretty popular career choice in their line of work.
He could venture a guess towards what his classmates were planning, and he'd have to plan accordingly.
Jess was the architect. She specialized in building, and breaking through, heist-proof systems. If the certificate somehow got into her hands, it would be a tough break to get it out. But her weakness was that on her own she could do very little to actually carry out the heist.
Stan was a transporter and an athlete. A jiu-jitsu expert and a smooth-talker. He had been a pickup artist in his former life- used to swindle rich college girls out of their money. He'd been looking for something more dignified by graduating this program, and I don't blame him. People like him are the scum of the earth.
Rudolph was the expert in social engineering, finding flaws in human systems and organizations and exploiting them to his advantage. He also moonlit as a white-hat hacker and penetration tester for an online security consultancy, but seeing the wealth of the guys he put down he'd gotten envious and decided to train himself for the dark side.
And Ralph? Ralph was the nobody. The most useless guy in the group. The spotter. He'd be the last on the other four's watch-out list. The kind of guy who'd have violated the tenth rule if it hadn't been so explicit.
But Ralph had a plan. He knew he was the best thief. Even his own identity was stolen and he'd forgotten the name his momma gave him a long time ago.
----
Jess drew up the blueprints. The "School" was a disguised hedge fund in a bustling office building. It had two entire floors to itself. An old colleague who worked at the firm that designed the building had provided her with all the floor plans on the promise of a date.
She peered over the plans of the other floors, the elevator, the fire-exit, the dimensions of the air vents, the dispensers, the window- their geometry, the material they were made of; the roof, the helipad. She was meticulous and took detailed notes of everything she could find.
---
Stan waited outside the diner for his date to arrive. He'd had some trouble with it but she'd finally broken up with her boyfriend thanks to his wing-mate. He found her okcupid profile and they'd hit it off.
He smiled as he saw the young girl walk across the street to him. The rules said nothing about breaking a headmaster's daughter's heart.
"Hi!" She said.
His expression suddenly changed. "Oh shit, I forgot my wallet."
"Where?"
"At my cabin. I need to get it." He paused. "Shit! My Access ID was in my wallet, I can't get to my office at this hour."
"Don't worry. I'll pay for tonight and you treat me some other day."
"No, its not that. I had a prescription in my wallet. I absolutely need to get those meds for my mother."
"Oh no!"
"Yeah, my boss will kill me if he finds out I endangered office secrets by leaving my access card. Shit!"
She looked worried, and finally said, "Listen! I live nearby. I'll sneak out my father's ID, you use it to get your wallet and we'll put it back. He'll never know."
"Really?"
"Why not? I trust you, Stan. "
They kissed. Stan drove her home and waited outside, a smirk on his lips.
The headmaster wasn't in, as expected- Stan had timed it well. The daughter went over to his study when her cellphone buzzed.
---
She came out of the house. Stan was expecting to be handed the headmaster's personal access card to the office where the certificate was kept.
She walked up to him, swung her arm and a tight slap landed on his face.
"What the fuck?"
"You fucking asshole!"
"What happened, babe-"
"This is you and Rita, right?"
She shoved her cellphone to his face. It was an anonymous snapchat - Stan and Rita were carnally entwined on Rita's apartment bed. Rita was her best friend who'd recommended him to her on the online dating website.
"Rudolph, that fat fuck!" Stan muttered in anger as another slap landed on his face.
---
Rudolph waited in the alley for the headmaster's daughter.
"Here it is!" She said, wiping a tear from her eye as she handed him her father's access card.
"Do you need a hug?" Rudolph said.
She fell on his three hundred pound frame and broke down.
"I'd advise you to get back with your ex. He cheated on you, that won't change or go away. But you still have to cut him some slack. Stan can create some pretty compelling social situations. He fell for it, but you have a chance of being the better person. Forgive him and move on. He's not a bad guy."
"Stan did all this just to get this thing?" She pointed towards the ID card nestled between Rudolph's fat fingers.
Rudolph nodded.
"I couldn't believe this simple card would be hidden behind so many traps. How did you know how to get past all of those?"
They were all textbook traps that they'd studied in class. The headmaster should be ashamed for hiding something so critical in such a basic manner, Rudolph thought.
"I can't tell you. But I promise I'll return it to you before 6 o clock. Place it back just the way you found it."
She nodded, and Rudolph took off. | 2016-04-25T05:17:02 | 2016-04-25T05:09:54 | 147 | 54 |
[WP] You are a senior student at a prestigious school of thievery. The only way to graduate is to break into the headmasters office, steal a certain object and escape from the school. Tonight you're going to attempt it. | I grew up on the streets, and the gutters, of the great city of Magonomy. I got by thanks to a quick wit and even quicker hands, thieving to stay alive. It was a lonely existence and I didn't have any real friends, only *acquaintances*.
I was six when my father abandoned me in the great city. He gave me a small silver crucifix on a metal chain.
'Take this, Wesley. God will guide you from here.'
I could have sold the crucifix for a good bit of coin but I was a silly, sentimental child and looked after it carefully. I wore it around my neck hidden under my dirty clothes. I never told a soul about it.
You might have heard someone say that 'there is no honour amongst thieves' - and whoever told you that was correct. The 'friends' I made, street urchins like myself, would try to steal the shirt off my back as I slept. If they had seen my crucifix I believe they would have killed me for it. I learnt quickly to keep to myself.
When I was 9 I was in a wealthy city district where the people wore tailored suits and expensive shoes. I was planning on stealing a well-to-do ladies purse. The district was a great place for thievery but a terrible place to get caught, which is why most sensible thieves stayed away. Well, I did get caught and... lets just say that's how I got the name Wesley Four Fingers.
As I grew older and quicker I began to make a living for myself through my cunning. I was able to buy regular meals and I even managed to save up for a jumper and blanket for winter time.
It was on a cold December evening that I sat on top of the Royal Arms Inn. As usual, there were people in the doorway below having a smoke of their pipes and discussing whatever it is rich people discuss.
I had a length of rope tied around my waist, the other end tied around the inns chimney. I waited a couple of hours until I saw a potential mark. A tall man in a large top hat came out of the inn. He lit a majestic looking pipe and began to play with his pocket watch. I ever so quietly lowered my self down behind him and reached into his coat pocket.
I quickly but calmly got back up to the roof and started to rummage through my prize but, to my dismay, the wallet was completely empty.
'Looking for something?' asked the man in a slow deep voice. He turned around to reveal a handsome young face, under a mop of thick brown hair. In his hands he dangled my crucifix. I opened my mouth but very little of sense came out.
'Come down, boy. You think that this is the first time I have seen such a trick?'
That is how I first met Ruphus Shadowwalk, the headmaster of Surreptia. Why he admitted me on an honorary scholarship, especially after my failed attempt at basic thievery, I still do not know.
Like me back then, you will never have heard of Surreptia. That is because they don't *want* you to hear about it. It is the republics (some say the worlds) finest school of Thievery. They offered an unrivaled education in the world of cloak and dagger. Deception, Confidence Cons, Sneakery, Advanced Thievery, Blackmail - they taught over 60 classes. I excelled in Stealth.
My years in Surreptia were a revelation. A chance to hone my skills and ready my self for a life beyond that I could ever have dreamt of as a young child. I excelled in my classes and quickly made real friends. We competed in lessons to be the best thief, but we did not compete for food needed to keep ourselves alive.
After three years, I knew my time was drawing to an end. Tonight I was going to graduate.
-------------
'You can't be serious Wesley!' said my room-mate Snopes. 'No one even *attempts* to graduate before their fifth year.'
'I'm ready Snopes and I know exactly *how* I am going to do it'.
The objective was to steal a snake shaped chalice from the headmasters room. The difficulty in this was that the headmasters room only had one door - and he enchanted it shut whenever he left the room.
'OK then... what's your great plan?' Snopes enquired.
'Well, the door is always locked when he is out of the room... so without knowing the counter enchantment I can't get in, right?'
'Right'
'So, I need him to *tell me* the counter enchantment.'
'What? Why on earth would he tell it to you?'
I smiled at my friend and shut my eyes as I waited for evening to fall.
The halls of the old school were silent as I slowly made my way towards the headmasters office. I gave my crucifix a kiss and hoped that luck and a forgetful headmaster were on my side. They were not, the door was enchanted shut. No matter.
I muttered a few basic counter enchantments knowing that nothing so trivial would get me into the headmasters room, but I did hope that it would be enough to alert the headmaster to an attempted break in.
I sat back in the shadows and waited.
It took a few minutes for the headmaster to amble down the corridors to his work room. As he walked past me I slipped silently out of my hiding place and up close behind him. I became his shadow. We walked together towards the enchanted door. He stopped and stood still a short way before we reached it. He looked around, but I glided left and right as he turned. My heart beat fast, however I was convinced he hadn't seen me.
Seemingly satisfied he continued to the door. I listened carefully as he whispered the counter enchantment and I watched as he walked into the room.
I stopped shadowing him as he entered and I went back to my dark waiting place. After a few minutes he left the room and and walked away. I stepped up to the door and repeated the counter enchantment I had heard moments earlier. The door opened.
I was jubilant as I presented the chalice to the headmaster.
He did not look as surprised as I had hoped. In fact, he did not look surprised at all.
'I am afraid this is not the correct artefact Wesley. It is a fake. I swapped it when I realised you were following me.' He laughed.
'Don't worry, Wesley. I still have high hopes for you.' he said with a glint in his eye.
That's when I saw he was wearing my crucifix around his neck. I groaned.
| "There is only one certificate. That means out of the four of you, only one will graduate. It mustn't be surprising- we have a reputation to keep up and only produce the best after all."
The headmaster stared at the four eager aspirants.
"Now read up on the rules. Your clock has already started."
He got up and left. The students jostled to the table and each picked up their copy.
---
The Rules
1. The winner is the one who has the certificate at 6:00 AM , 1st May. You have until then to plan, prepare and execute your heist.
2. The certificate may exchange as many hands in between, only the final holder at the appointed time graduates.
3. If you destroy the certificate, you are disqualified and cannot apply to graduate ever again. Others can take this exam next year.
4. Remember that you're training to be thieves, not murderers. To earn the certificate you must steal it, not take it from a corpse. Killing entails permanent disqualification.
5. No civilians should be physically harmed. Any injury to a non-participant results in permanent disqualification.
6. If you get caught by the cops, we will not protect you.
7. The certificate will be placed somewhere in the headmaster's office.
8. The supervisors of this exam are senior students who've graduated before. Their identities will remain a secret.
9. Any resources you might need for the heist would have to be raised by you, whether by legitimate means or stealing is up to you as well. Refer to rule 6.
10. Because of an incident in the previous exam, you're not allowed to run for political office. You may choose to do so *after* you've cleared it, though.
----
Ralph chuckled at the tenth rule. It seemed to have become a pretty popular career choice in their line of work.
He could venture a guess towards what his classmates were planning, and he'd have to plan accordingly.
Jess was the architect. She specialized in building, and breaking through, heist-proof systems. If the certificate somehow got into her hands, it would be a tough break to get it out. But her weakness was that on her own she could do very little to actually carry out the heist.
Stan was a transporter and an athlete. A jiu-jitsu expert and a smooth-talker. He had been a pickup artist in his former life- used to swindle rich college girls out of their money. He'd been looking for something more dignified by graduating this program, and I don't blame him. People like him are the scum of the earth.
Rudolph was the expert in social engineering, finding flaws in human systems and organizations and exploiting them to his advantage. He also moonlit as a white-hat hacker and penetration tester for an online security consultancy, but seeing the wealth of the guys he put down he'd gotten envious and decided to train himself for the dark side.
And Ralph? Ralph was the nobody. The most useless guy in the group. The spotter. He'd be the last on the other four's watch-out list. The kind of guy who'd have violated the tenth rule if it hadn't been so explicit.
But Ralph had a plan. He knew he was the best thief. Even his own identity was stolen and he'd forgotten the name his momma gave him a long time ago.
----
Jess drew up the blueprints. The "School" was a disguised hedge fund in a bustling office building. It had two entire floors to itself. An old colleague who worked at the firm that designed the building had provided her with all the floor plans on the promise of a date.
She peered over the plans of the other floors, the elevator, the fire-exit, the dimensions of the air vents, the dispensers, the window- their geometry, the material they were made of; the roof, the helipad. She was meticulous and took detailed notes of everything she could find.
---
Stan waited outside the diner for his date to arrive. He'd had some trouble with it but she'd finally broken up with her boyfriend thanks to his wing-mate. He found her okcupid profile and they'd hit it off.
He smiled as he saw the young girl walk across the street to him. The rules said nothing about breaking a headmaster's daughter's heart.
"Hi!" She said.
His expression suddenly changed. "Oh shit, I forgot my wallet."
"Where?"
"At my cabin. I need to get it." He paused. "Shit! My Access ID was in my wallet, I can't get to my office at this hour."
"Don't worry. I'll pay for tonight and you treat me some other day."
"No, its not that. I had a prescription in my wallet. I absolutely need to get those meds for my mother."
"Oh no!"
"Yeah, my boss will kill me if he finds out I endangered office secrets by leaving my access card. Shit!"
She looked worried, and finally said, "Listen! I live nearby. I'll sneak out my father's ID, you use it to get your wallet and we'll put it back. He'll never know."
"Really?"
"Why not? I trust you, Stan. "
They kissed. Stan drove her home and waited outside, a smirk on his lips.
The headmaster wasn't in, as expected- Stan had timed it well. The daughter went over to his study when her cellphone buzzed.
---
She came out of the house. Stan was expecting to be handed the headmaster's personal access card to the office where the certificate was kept.
She walked up to him, swung her arm and a tight slap landed on his face.
"What the fuck?"
"You fucking asshole!"
"What happened, babe-"
"This is you and Rita, right?"
She shoved her cellphone to his face. It was an anonymous snapchat - Stan and Rita were carnally entwined on Rita's apartment bed. Rita was her best friend who'd recommended him to her on the online dating website.
"Rudolph, that fat fuck!" Stan muttered in anger as another slap landed on his face.
---
Rudolph waited in the alley for the headmaster's daughter.
"Here it is!" She said, wiping a tear from her eye as she handed him her father's access card.
"Do you need a hug?" Rudolph said.
She fell on his three hundred pound frame and broke down.
"I'd advise you to get back with your ex. He cheated on you, that won't change or go away. But you still have to cut him some slack. Stan can create some pretty compelling social situations. He fell for it, but you have a chance of being the better person. Forgive him and move on. He's not a bad guy."
"Stan did all this just to get this thing?" She pointed towards the ID card nestled between Rudolph's fat fingers.
Rudolph nodded.
"I couldn't believe this simple card would be hidden behind so many traps. How did you know how to get past all of those?"
They were all textbook traps that they'd studied in class. The headmaster should be ashamed for hiding something so critical in such a basic manner, Rudolph thought.
"I can't tell you. But I promise I'll return it to you before 6 o clock. Place it back just the way you found it."
She nodded, and Rudolph took off. | 2016-04-25T05:17:43 | 2016-04-25T05:09:54 | 101 | 54 |
[WP] The invasion of Earth has finally begun but it is not the humans who are putting up the fiercest resistance. | As the mother ship, 2000 meters long and covered with bulbuos spines, approached inner orbit, captain k'rac of the imperium of zel, conquerer of a hundred worlds and slayer of the crab nebula hordes, was signaled by one of the communications officers on the bridge.
"We are approaching our designated landing point, captan" clicked the prawn like navigator.
"Good" rumbled k'rac. "How long before we land on terra?"
"Approximately 20,000 flashes of a pulsar, " replied the officer, performing and double checking the minute calculations needed to breach orbit.
"The swarm mother's larva have reported that the dominant species, known as "homo sapiens", are stupid and weak, only using crude ballistic and nuclear weapons".
"Wonderful!" chuckled (or as close to chuckling as a giant shrimp could) k'rac. "Agitate the hives, wake the dirgecallers, and prepare the photon mortars, this will be a slaughter!" As he began to leave the bridge and make his report to the monarch, k'rac turned back, as an afterthought struck him "Where does our first battle begin?"
"An island, uninhabitable by humans in the center and a good landing point, clicked the underling. "The dominant ape species here calls it..."
the communications officer squinted at the hazy intercepted maps, taken from rogue satellites flung out of earths orbit;
"Australia"
*I wrote this on my phone, sorry for bad formatting and grammar*
Edit 1: fixed some misspellings and missing words. Still crap
| The ships landing gear extended slowly, and grazed the earth with a scrape followed by a thud.
"What dooes the indigenous population call this place Zull?"
"The charts say Texas sir."
"Very well. Have the reapers finished culling the planet of the humanoids?"
"There are just a few left in a small mountain some distance away, sir. They called it NORAD. You'll have to excuse my pronunciation sir, this is only my second week."
"You are doing fine lieutenant. Tell them to mop it up quickly. I'm going to depart the ship, check the area out. Get a feel for the planet before administration gets here."
"Yes sir. I will start some pulses, and see what the local wildlife has to offer, and what resources we can gather."
"Very well." Zander makes his way to the airlock, and presses his hand on a scanner. A burst of fresh air and unpleasant heat hit him, beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead. He is greeted by a buzzing sound, the reverberations of tiny wings hit his earsacs.
The noise grows louder. It stifles the sounds of deer scampering in the woods. It masks the bubbling creek next to their ship.
A tiny red insect lands on Zanders shoulder. Zander smiles, and reaches out to touch it. They had always tried to restore planets after species ruined them, and he loved interacting with the flora and fauna.
As his finger connected with the delicate wings, a stinger emerged, and fiercely jackhammered his arm. As the poison shot in, and the pain ran its course, Zander began to shoo the animal away violently. They were never to harm creatures who did not harm the planets. It was his creed.
Two more red insects landed on his other arm as his face began to swell. His neck had become engorged with fluid, muffling his grunts and groans as he fell over. The other two wasps quickly went to work, injecting their poison.
Zull never saw the creatures approach him.
He never heard the buzzing.
He didn't feel them land on his arm.
He felt the sting.
He felt his neck swell.
He felt his body become heavy.
[He felt the floor.](http://imgur.com/eBlX57s.jpg)
| 2016-05-17T10:46:52 | 2016-05-17T10:42:55 | 365 | 69 |
[WP] Two men play a game of chess. One can read minds; the other can see the future. | They walked up and took their seats.
They looked at the board.
They looked at each other.
They looked at the board.
Moments passed. Eventually the telepath looked to his opponent and said, "I have the worst fucking migraine right now."
"Me to," said the psychic. "Let's never hang out again."
"Agreed."
They left. | One man sat at the base of a tree,
Branching and twisting to eternity.
With heart of oak and legs entwined,
he ruled as king of infinite mind.
Across the board, he then did see,
A kindred soul with eyes like he,
His face showed wonder and he sat carefree
As he stared up the branches and the twists of the tree.
At length they sat, and enjoyed the breeze,
Searching, trunk, branch, stem, and leaf.
They climbed and flew with agility and ease,
but the fractal outgrew what the two could see.
The king smiled, and he seemed pleased,
For finding another who dares to climb trees.
He plucked a leaf, white coloured in hand,
and sent a lone scout to a faraway land.
The other man smiled and gestured around,
Of this bushel of leaves, only a single was brown.
Much like a showman preparing a trick,
He closed his eyes and gave his hand a flick,
The branches rustled, and shuffled around,
And when his palm reopened, his leaf was brown. | 2017-01-19T17:36:57 | 2017-01-19T16:24:18 | 372 | 11 |
[WP] You live in a world where your soulmate is unable to hurt you, intentionally or otherwise. You are fighting in a war, when one of the enemy's knives harmlessly glances off you. | The people said that there are things that are not done in war.
Killing the children of the enemies; torturing prisoners of war; killing doctors in enemy camps;
Not that this ever stopped people from doing those things anyways.
When you fight a war, you fight to win.
Regardless of who is on the other side.
---
You know this, that if you get caught, your people won't acknowledge you, your generals won't acknowledge you.
That you would have died in vain, and the feet of the enemy, just another number, another casualty in war.
But it's okay for you.
You were born for this, for war.
---
The enemy is within sight, and your knife is gripped tight in your hands.
Bring down the enemy king, who is foolish to ride into battle with his army.
Bring down the enemy king, and win the war.
Bring your knife, into the throat of the enemy and win the war, win prestige, and win.
The enemy is within sight.
Within distance.
Your knife goes down and-
Nothing.
---
*There is a moment, a small, small moment where you think, maybe, maybe, I can be happy, with this soulmate of mine, with my other half, with the one that completes me, with the only one that would ever know me.*
*But it is just that; a moment and nothing more.*
---
Surprisingly, the thoughts that enter you are one of admiration.
The king is surprisingly good at battle, you think.
You knife that glanced off him is on the ground, too far away from you, and his own sword that glanced off you is still within his grip, but useless.
It's as if the time had stopped around the two of you, and you see the king open his mouth, and you wait for the words to leave his mouth.
There is a small part of you that thinks, just thinks, maybe, just maybe,
But, this is war.
And in war, one fights to win.
---
~~"Execute the assassin."~~ | "That's an interesting outfit" said Hitlers clone. He sat calmly behind the desk, clearly put out by the several dead Nazi Hive-men in the entrance to his throne room that I had killed. He maintained his composure well.
"I'm unsure how you managed this", he said, gesturing to his dead guards. "But it won't save you for long. My soldiers share one mind, one brain. They are aware of you and your actions, and are on their way even now to stop you. Seriously what are you wearing? It's weird and grossing me out for some reason."
His American accent grated on me. Bad enough that someone would clone Hitler and unleash a third World War, but raising him American? An affront to everything that I stood for.
I said nothing, my Katana dripping with the dark purple blood of his strange clone soldiers. I looked at this "man". I was about to end him, and a war that had spanned 50 years.
"Not talking huh?" He stood and reached underneath his large Swastika shaped throne, and pulled out a heavy machine gun. "I want you to know that I am not without defenses. You are too far away to reach me in time no matter how good you are with that little sword of yours. There is no other outcome. I can't imagine how you fought your way into my deepest and most impenetrable stronghold, past a standing legion of two hundred and fifty thousand clones, but it doesn't matter. I will find out once you are dead, and you *will* die soon. Now for fucks sake: tell me what you are wearing? It looks like a superhero costume made out of a scrotum"
I glared for a few seconds more, savoring the moment.
"It is the skin of my love, and my love will protect me"
He raised an eyebrow in derision.
"Oh great, so you are a nut job? Oh well. It's time to die! Eins, swei, *byye!*
The barrage of bullets bounced off of my protective coating, just as I knew they would. His jaw dropped in shock. I held my Katana above my head and ran the remaining distance, bullets flying all over the room from off of my chest. I gutted Hitler.
"H-how?" He gasped as he died.
"By the sacrifice of my love" I said. "I can only hope she forgives me in the next life."
After, I took off the skin suit. She had been a brainwashed Nazicorp soldier, but after I rescued her and realised that she could never harm me or cause me harm indirectly, I had to betray her. I wore my love like armour, and she protected me, and now the world was safe.
| 2017-04-22T05:32:27 | 2017-04-22T05:27:38 | 52 | 21 |
[WP] Germany is actually predestined to lose every world war it participates in. The sixteenth world war is now being fought, and Germany has taken over all of Europe. Make them lose the war in the most ridiculous way possible. | "Come on in" I heard a tired voice call out. I stepped into the room, and saw our leader looking worn out and tired. "Is everything alright sir?" I ask. "I'm thinking of surrendering to Belgium." He said. "But they're the last country standing in our way of continental domination?!! Their tech is from the 22nd century, their lasers can barely penetrate the average drones first layer of armor! Why would we surrender???!!!" I exclaimed in shock. The fuhrer looked at me with a dead look in his eyes, and asked one question that would change my life: "Would world peace really be that ridiculous?" | The year is 2198. The entire world has seen 15 world wars. All of which Germany has participated... and... err... lost. Y-yeah... they lost 15 times. This the 16th war, and everyone expects Germany to lose. People aren't taking Germany seriously anymore. Many keep joking about Germany.
But it looks like things will change now. Germany has actually taken over Europe and is starting to invade other parts. Their military...has... uhhh... haven't changed much... but it seems they're winning...And I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing. Well, I'm just a POW.. and they're about to kill me
Year 2199 and Germany is still winning. They've taken over Asia now. My execution was delayed...and now is the time for me to die...
Then all of a sudden every tank I could see just exploded. All planes crashed. And all ships sunk.
The reason why?? The dumbass lead mechanic/builder forgot to put a number 4 and a few **VERY INSIGNIFICANT** details on the blueprint. Without that stuff, well... everything would blow up.
I laughed my ass off at the explosion. I laughed so fucking hard I pissed myself. Germany lost again. But the machines exploded. Not the infantry. While I was laughing, they...errr...just shot me. | 2017-08-18T05:12:07 | 2017-08-18T02:09:31 | 29 | 15 |
[WP] Germany is actually predestined to lose every world war it participates in. The sixteenth world war is now being fought, and Germany has taken over all of Europe. Make them lose the war in the most ridiculous way possible. | The German Army have finally broken the lines surrounding Moscow. The Russian Army, in total disarray, retreats eastward in a heap of terrified cyborg ninjas. Field Marshall Stubenz leads his men into the charred remains of Moscow in his Mercedes Panzer, dead set on being the first to raise their proud colors over the Kremlin, finally taking revenge for WWII, WWIV, WWXII, and WWXIII. For the first time in the last 3 centuries, the Germans will finally seize a victory in a Great War, as after their alliance with Godzilla, and the subsequent surprise attack on America, left only the drunken, bear-mounted hoards of cyborg ninjas in Russia. Their phaser cannons were no match for the German engineering, as the Germans were now so good at managing time, they had harnessed the means to control it, and merely aged their opponents forward or backwards out of existence, which thoroughly spooked the backwards cyborg Russians. It only took a matter of hours to drive them out of Moscow, the culmination of years of struggle, as finally, for the first time since the Middle Ages, the German people will rule the Continent.
The procession comes to a halt, and the Stubenz's trusty Lieutenant, Heinrich turns to him and says, "it's time sir." Stubenz knods in agreement, straightens his uniform and breathes in the moment, as he and his entourage begin to dismount, and begin the long walk into the Kremlin. Suddenly a bright beam of light, the likes of which had faintly ever been seen, strikes the ground only a few meters away.
"Christ is back bitches! Who's ready for a rapture!!!" | It was called the blind luck victory in textbooks. The day when the very earth itself called out to the German's and shouted "NO." The latter from the more poetically minded.
Everyone else calls it idiocy redefined.
Every single weather forecast listed that day as having extremely bad weather. Thunderstorms with high winds, high chance of lightning strikes, and even the possibility of a tornado.
So why did the 17th Reich decide to hold their annual parade in this location? Hubris.
Every leader from their Generals down to Colonels were on hand for the military parade. It was supposed to be the grand party of the millennium. Germany had captured the entirety of mainland Europe and western Russia. It had forced Russia to sign the armistice agreement and had Britain to retreat back to their home country.
No one could have predicted what happened... excluding every meteorologist who predicted what would happen.
The storm blew in from the west bringing the parade to a halt. As if in defiance of mother nature herself, the exposed German leaders took no shelter. They stood on their parade float tall and proud as the rains drenched them and the wind shifted them in place.
The presidential king of Germany strew his sword and plunged it into the float holding it in front of him like a night of old.
Then a tank flew past the float making everyone on the float panic. A second tank flew past as lightning struck the ground revealing an F5 tornado plowing through the link of tanks coming right for the float.
A couple of the tanks had the misguided idea to fire into the tornado. The shells fired closest held their velocity and punched through the tornado flying in random directions. The others were caught by the tornado and started flying off in every direction. One of these shells hit the primary hydro electric dam's power converter shutting off power to the dam's air defense systems.
Even before the tornado swallowed the float up killing 95% of the command structure for the 17th Reich, allied commanders were ordering the air strike on the dam.
Russia broke its armistice agreement and invaded immediately. Cut off without support of its command and logistic structure, the eastern German front folded in a day. The middle eastern coalition invaded through Turkey while allied forces made simultaneous landfalls in the Netherlands, Belgium, and France.
Allied commanders promised the war would be over by Christmas. Germany surrendered on Halloween. | 2017-08-18T06:20:40 | 2017-08-18T05:45:39 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] Your significant other is possessed by a demon. Soon after; you realize you love the demon and not your SO anymore and it's actually mutual. Now the exorcist has arrived. | Laying down on my couch enjoying its softness, hearing the sound of rain outside combined with the sound of a knife repeatedly cutting veggies and the smell of something delicious from the kitchen, these were the ideal conditions for a short nap. A truly peaceful one.
Unfortunately, someone interrupts my little ritual by patting me on the shoulder, but I don’t get angry, I can’t get mad at the person crouching in front of me.
“Helen…?” not her real name, by the way, it’s the name of the person she’s inside of.
“hm” she makes a little sound without opening her mouth and extending a spoon towards my face, it smelled delicious, looks like she wanted me to try her new creation, I sit up on the couch and gently grab the spoon along with her hand guiding it to my mouth.
“It’s really good, it’s…the bunny you caught this morning right…?
She nods. With a smile on her face clearly proud of her earlier hunt.
“But it could use a little more salt, Helen” she pouts and nods, she still doesn’t like talking much, she fears that she’ll say something that’ll make my ears bleed. I noticed that I’m still holding her hand and that she is looking directly into my eyes. “Helen…?”
She leans and gives a quick kiss when she pulls back I see she had red cheeks and a toothy smile on her face. She quickly gets up and walks back to the kitchen.
I keep a smile on my face until she leaves. And lay back on the couch.
*why am I still alive…? This situation is so bizarre. Is she just playing with me…?*
*maybe she is just fatting me up to eat me at a later date, and she has been doing so for years…!*
I snort.
*If she really wanted to eat me, she would have the first time we met. So there is no mistake that this is all real. Her feelings are and so are mine…It’s already too late to have doubts*
*for now... all we need to do is hide from everyone*
The smell from the kitchen was making me really hungry.
“Hey, Helen is it done yet-“ I hear something outside, a horse, which should be highly improbable in this rain, adding to that, we were in the middle of a forest away from civilization! Who would even know we're here? I look towards the door hearing footsteps, someone was behind it.
Helen walks out of the kitchen with a worried look, her hands together like she was praying. She switches between looking at the door and me. We both hear another sound behind the door, one I didn't recognize, Helen face is filled with fear and is sweating.
"ma-maybe is someone who got lost...?" I said to her *trying* to sound reassuring.
She starts to run towards me, but before she can reach me, the door is shot in her direction. Throwing her towards the wall.
“Helen…!”
I run towards Helen and hold her in my arms, she is bleeding in various places, she opens her eyes and looks at me with a smile on her face, but only for a second. She pushes me with her small hand and I’m shot towards the living room falling on the floor, hard.
“He-“I look at her direction just to see that her chest has been stabbed by a long thin sword, almost like a rapier.
The man with the sword was tall and was wearing completely dark clothes, like that of a priest, combined with a cape, military boots, and a white faceless mask. Helen starts screaming in pain, the wound has smoke coming out of it and it sounded like bacon being cooked on the grill. that sound combined with her screams made my skin crawl.
“HELEN…!”
“That’s her name...?” the man says in a deep voice, he lifts Helen in the air effortlessly with his sword. She tries to grab the sword but can’t, she tries to kick the man but can’t reach him. “…doesn’t sound very demonic, but looking at the reaction she had by being stabbed by a holy sword, I know I got the right one”
“Stop, she, she hasn’t done anything wrong! Please!” I yell at the man, but the moment he faces towards me, my legs stop moving.
“I’ll be with you once I’m done with her, demon worshipers can be even worse than demons sometimes-”
He is kicked in the stomach and flies outside, but that shouldn’t be possible, Helen is too small and her legs too short how did she-
Something is coming out of Helen's skirt, *various* somethings. Legs and abdomen like the ones of spider, dark and menacing. Her old legs disappear.
She stands, much taller than me, and looks at my direction, with a sad expression, tears are trimming down her face. I’m able to move my legs now. I walk with easy steps looking up at her. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her in this form.
“E-e-everything is going to be okay! For now, we need to leave the house, find some other place to hide, they won’t find us this ti-“
Helen suddenly grabs me and carries me out of the house breaking the wall in the process. I look back just in time to see the house caught on fire.
*what? How did it-*
The house starts to fall apart, the fire engulfs it completely. Everything is lost. I stand on the ground looking at the scene dumbfounded
“no…” I hear her mutter in a really low voice almost inaudible, she really loved that house. But we don’t even have the time to cry over it.
A man appears from within the flames, completely unaffected by them. Flaming sword in hand. Helen looks at him angrily, her face starts to distort, black eyes appear on her forehead, and her jaw starts to extend letting out a hideous growl.
The man, no, the *exorcist*, points his sword at us.
| "Can't I just clock him? I really bloody want to." The girl holding the pan took a test swing in the hallway. Two kilos of lovely iron-reinforced teflon, with the added bonus of oil that hadn't quite cooled yet. It was dripping on the rug.
"No, Hal, Hal, hey. Hey!"
Mid-swing the pan changed direction and hit the full-length smile of the boy standing behind her. The smile fractured and his whole image quivered with the force of non-stick teflon. Well, seven years' bad luck hardly mattered now. The girl's arm tried to swing around and hit the real version opposite the mirror. Sam ducked a fist while the girl re-gained composure.
"Oh, come on, Anna, give it up," she said, "you've got plenty of other nice boys down there." She heard Anna think some things she'd rather not repeat out loud. How rude.
Poor Sam. Her arm was better at least.
"Did she call me a-"
"Oh yeah. And more. She's complaining there's too much red? And she's not much for the punk aesthetic."
"Huh."
"She's right, to be fair. They do stew in their own culture."
"Well, she should've thought about that before trying to throw out my black hex stuff."
"Oh, She'll be fine, Sam" said Halaratha with a tentative wave that almost turned into a Sam-slap. Oh someone like Anna would find friends. She'd settle down into a bit of debauchery, and red wasn't all that bad. The doorbell rang. It was the priest.
"No, we spoke about this," said Sam. She dropped the bent pan. Fine.
"Okay. But for the record, I could take her on, okay? She's got what, one hand left? Three fingers?" Hal stopped there, tried and failed to cross her arms in anger. She smiled. Demons don't get scared, alright? Get a grip.
Sam opened the door to the thin man. His perfectly black cassock flowed to his perfectly black shoes. He had bibles akimbo, and the kind of rimless glasses with sharp edges you could cut yourself on. Hal winced.
"Please, come this way father. Welcome, welcome." Father Tom was impressed. Real tallow candles. God-fearing neighbourhood. Nice cloth on a real wooden table. Not veneer. This living room had the real stuff, even if there was a shattered mirror in the hallway. He sat, opened his briefcase of holy water and selected a flask.
"So, you're the one afflicted. We're ready for you. Please, sit." Father Tom dimmed the lights and Sam helped a shaking Hal through the door. She shivered, and stumbled to a sofa to grab a sweater, then practically collapsed half-Anna into a seat opposite. Fuck the cold. Her priest just stared from his pair of rimless sermon sweepers. The cute woolen sweater didn't help at all. Just looking at the table felt like an arctic winter. Hal mumbled something to herself. Sam thought it sounded like "well, fuck you too".
The priest took his left bible. He began the prayer and took Anna's hands, then poured holy water, and lit his freezing incense. She couldn't feel anything anymore. Just incense in the cold. And the living room was gone, evaporated to a desolate white that struggled hard to meander into shades of pink and punk. The priest blurred together. Fuck it Sam. Fuck it four ways to hell. Her teeth chattered and she hoped Anna's did too. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't, okay? It seemed to drag on in slow motion. She could only make out his glasses now. Only that and silence. The other girl was back in control. She stared, and waited for the old eternal pain to return. It would come, and her old life would return. The red-grey underworld monotony in full technicolor agony.
"Hmph. Ow!" White punk went black. She opened her eyes to dripping tallow on the floorboards. One arm, then two stuggled to pick her up off the floor. Floorboards turned to wall, then a painting. One of her arms flew through the blizzard helplessly and found a familiar shoulder propping her up. She strained through ice to move her neck. Sam was grinning. The pan lay a little way off.
"Hey, H, are you there honey?"
"Mhmm."
"Hal?"
"Mm, ugh. Yeah, what?"
The tablecloth was gone and lay by the bibles on the floor. Tallow seeped across the bare oak and stopped just short of a chalk outline. It had smudged a little, but the behemoth of demon swearing and interlocked geometry would do. The chair Anna had been sitting on was worse for wear.
"You remember what's next?"
"Mmm, yeah." Halaratha raised one cool hand and pointed it swaying at a paralyzed priest. He was howling his own brand of sacred profanities. Try as he might his arms wouldn't move from the table.
"Haiax, motherfucker." Good. She didn't miss. The white-red call of the underworld strengthened a little as shards of dark magic wound their way around a cassock. The priest's eyes clouded over. He gently lifted both hands up, then collected his things off the floor and started making his way to the door.
"Well, Sam, Anna, I do hope you're both feeling better. You can rest easy now, the darkness has passed. I trust this will mark the end of your absences and we can all move forward". The priest shook his hand. Woodenly.
"Absolutely. Yeah, um, and cheers again for coming. I think we're both feeling much better," said Sam. The cold was fading. She could just about stand on her own. They gave the black robe a wave down the driveway.
"Take care Father Thomas. I feel much more at ease now. Bye! Bye for now! All the best!" She gave the priest a wink and another Haiax for good measure. He wouldn't remember even if he bathed in holy water. They closed the door. Damn, her shoulder hurt. She looked to Sam. She didn't care and hugged him anyway.
"Are we gonna have to go to A and E with that?"
Sam heard a muffled "don't care." Her voice wavered.
"Hey, I only missed the chair by a little." She nodded. It didn't matter now. The cow was gone forever. And demons don't cry, okay? | 2017-10-10T03:19:24 | 2017-10-09T14:52:53 | 156 | 10 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya | Dear grandad,
You died 11 years ago when I was only 10years old. I had begged my parents to go to your funeral but they refused and I never got to go. I never got a formal goodbye so here it is.
I loved playing the violin for you. It always brought you such joy. I loved how you would always say “one day I’ll be better than you” after I finished playing. I stopped playing after you died. I’d like to think we’re equal at playing the violin now even if just by default. I remember I would always play the violin downstairs at your home but one day I visited and you were upstairs in bed. Struggling to be alive and being in pain. Even than you listened to me play. Little did I know that would be the last time I would play for you.
You would look at me now with such proud eyes. You were always proud of everything I did. I wish you were here to see me graduate university despite all the odds. I wish you were here to listen to me play the violin one more time. I wish you were here telling me how proud you are of me and everything I’ve ever done.
One day I’ll play for you once more. Until then rest easy granddad.
Love from your granddaughter | 2017-11-05T21:44:07 | 2017-11-05T21:06:53 | 1,462 | 351 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya | Hey Mom,
It’s been a few months since we’ve last talked. I miss you.
I’m still not quite sure why you decided to cut me out of your life. I’d always thought family wasn’t just blood relations, but those who matter to us. You’ve shown me otherwise.
I just can’t believe you threw me out like that. I watched as you spent years proving how much I mattered to you. And you mattered just as much to me. Then you turned around and got rid of me and my father like we were garbage.
Even if something happened between you and my father, why are you throwing me out? You even tried to turn my sisters against me. You’re trying to sabotage what little family I have left out of spite.
And you know that you’re full of shit. When I called you out on it you just said nothing, because there’s nothing for you to say.
You’re just being shitty because you can be. I hope you enjoy the rest of your shallow life surrounded by the people you’ve manipulated into liking you, because that’s all you’re ever going to get.
Love,
Your Little Shit | 2017-11-05T21:44:07 | 2017-11-05T21:31:44 | 1,462 | 81 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear self, I hate you. I hate what we've become. When did we change, when did we grow so old and angry, and when did we decide to be alone? I know that we did not always act like this. I know we used to laugh, and let other people get close. Remember when we had so many friends? remember when we go to other people's houses and just hang out. Everything was so easy then. Why is it so hard now? I want you to know that I miss you. The way you used to be, the way we could be again, maybe. I want you to know that I need more. I need to make a change. I want to be different. I won't be like you anymore. Yours always, you.
| Dear Luis Miguel,
It's been 4 years since you've passed. Things have gotten better from the old years. The kids are older, my house is different, I actually have cats again.
I found some of your old photos. Back in the day when the camera had only megabytes instead on gigabytes. I found a nice one where you were sunbathing in front of the large glass doors leading to the outside world. You were always an outdoors type.
These cats are different than you. You snuggled in my arms, rested your head on my collarbone, your wet nose on my chin. You would lay right on top of my back over looking my room.
You began wasting away and my heart stopped. I wish I could have done more but your kidneys were shot. It was a death sentence.
My husband dreamt of you before that day. "Please take care of her for me." I'd like to believe you communicated before you passed. It made things easier.
You brought me joy in a tough world, gave me peace in a harsh home, loved me in my loveless times. I wished to grow older with you but it never came to pass. The pain has dulled and, I may have other pets to keep me company but you were the first. You were my jewel.
We shall meet again across the rainbow bridge
Love, Your Equal | 2017-11-05T19:56:15 | 2017-11-05T19:02:08 | 799 | 516 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear self, I hate you. I hate what we've become. When did we change, when did we grow so old and angry, and when did we decide to be alone? I know that we did not always act like this. I know we used to laugh, and let other people get close. Remember when we had so many friends? remember when we go to other people's houses and just hang out. Everything was so easy then. Why is it so hard now? I want you to know that I miss you. The way you used to be, the way we could be again, maybe. I want you to know that I need more. I need to make a change. I want to be different. I won't be like you anymore. Yours always, you.
| Hey Em,
I'd love to say I've changed, I'm new, brag about things I've done. I'd love to say I've grown.
But you, with your disarming blue eyes, somehow always knew. You always knew when I was making things up, when I was caught in little white lies. You'd encourage some.
And I'd love to say how different I am, from when we last saw each other five years ago. We were excited when we met, we were kids; when we last saw each other, we were adults, we had grown, but we were still ourselves. But you never cared about words.
You cared about actions. You cared about us, about people, about how the coolest kids at the bus stop were still kids, waiting at a bus stop. My record shows I was the one with the loud mouth, insecure, but always willing to stick by anyone down on their luck.
After I left...after I went soul-searching, I took your advice to heart. I stopped saying how good I was, or how I changed. I showed it, from 2010 through today. I never did it for my ego. I never did it for pride.
I did it after some kids walked into my life, told me I was a jackass, and helped me change. I did it for the cool kids... the ones I cut ties with.
So...please. Let's meet up, chat about the old times, and see where things go. Let's let the chips fall where they may.
-M | 2017-11-05T19:56:15 | 2017-11-05T19:02:54 | 799 | 55 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear Jeremy.
I'm sorry I didn't call.
I don't remember if I was busy, or tired, or anything else that could be considered an excuse. I felt like it was all my fault. I could have stopped it. When I met your family and found out you had been living with this all your life, I almost gave up.
I should have called. I had a bad feeling and I couldn't get you out of my head. Now I know why. I could have stopped you.
I could have gotten you help. I could have been a better friend.
But that morning I found out you killed yourself. I knew.
I should have called.
Your friend
Charlie.
P.s. I forgive you.
(Edited, spelling) | Hey Em,
I'd love to say I've changed, I'm new, brag about things I've done. I'd love to say I've grown.
But you, with your disarming blue eyes, somehow always knew. You always knew when I was making things up, when I was caught in little white lies. You'd encourage some.
And I'd love to say how different I am, from when we last saw each other five years ago. We were excited when we met, we were kids; when we last saw each other, we were adults, we had grown, but we were still ourselves. But you never cared about words.
You cared about actions. You cared about us, about people, about how the coolest kids at the bus stop were still kids, waiting at a bus stop. My record shows I was the one with the loud mouth, insecure, but always willing to stick by anyone down on their luck.
After I left...after I went soul-searching, I took your advice to heart. I stopped saying how good I was, or how I changed. I showed it, from 2010 through today. I never did it for my ego. I never did it for pride.
I did it after some kids walked into my life, told me I was a jackass, and helped me change. I did it for the cool kids... the ones I cut ties with.
So...please. Let's meet up, chat about the old times, and see where things go. Let's let the chips fall where they may.
-M | 2017-11-05T19:17:09 | 2017-11-05T19:02:54 | 508 | 55 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Hey Scott.
I guess I took everything you did for granted. It's been really hard without you here. Your daughter still asks when you're coming to pick her up and she always gets sad when I explain to her that you can't.
She really loves you and you were a good father. She started listening to one of the books you recorded. Hearing your voice always makes her so happy. She follows along in the book like you remind her to every chapter. It's hard. I burst into tears when I heard you sound out a word you knew she'd have trouble with.
We miss you. I hope where ever you are you're not in pain anymore. | To you, whom I didn’t treat right, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry in a way that you may not even realize because it hurts me every day that I live I remember you. I remember not being the very best for you and that cracks me deep down, I don’t know how else to say it. I feel fractured because I wasn’t the best for you, and I wish so badly I could’ve been your superman, your hero, or at the very least your friend. You deserved and deserve so much more than I gave you and I pray you find a hero who will give you everything I didn’t. I made a choice through my inaction to not live to my fullest and treat you the best, I let you down. But please know that I honestly feel we are both better for it. Kintsukoroi means “golden repair”, essential we are better for having been broken and living past it, and I hope desperately that it will get better for you, or maybe it already has, I’m not sure. What I do know is that you are a beautiful entity, one the world sure could use more of, so go out and be more than who you were, because you are stronger now. You have your kintsukoroi, so it’s about time I get a move on with mine. | 2017-11-05T23:19:05 | 2017-11-05T23:09:04 | 58 | 29 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear friend,
Oh dear friend. If only I could just step back for just one day and talk to you about all that has occurred since we last saw each other. I’m so thankful that we were able to spend the time in life together that we did.
I miss that little sigh of excitement that would rise up from my chest and escape my mouth every time you’d call or anytime I’d see you walking toward me with that little mischievous grin on your face. You were the best part of my days and for that I am forever grateful to you. I want you to know that. I’m so grateful.
The hours we spent on the phone talking about everything and anything and nothing at all. Sometimes talking about nothing at all can mean the world to someone and make all the difference. I just want you to know it made all the difference to me.
I want you to know that you taught me to love in a time that I felt nothing was worth loving.
I want you to know that you taught me my worth in a time of my life that I felt like I had no value and like my life wasn’t worth living. You made breathing exciting. You made laughing and crying together something to live for. I want you to know I’m so thankful for that.
If ever a miracle brings you to this letter, I just want you to know you are forever imprinted on my heart and every once in awhile I feel your mischievous grin creep across my face.
Stay golden | Name changes, for privacy reasons, but here goes.
My dear Maria,
I recall in vivid detail the conversations we once shared, about where our lives were headed, our hopes and fears, our dreams and nightmares. I never told you outright how much I love you, and that is the only thing in life I truly regret. I tried telling you one day (though I didn't do a very good job of it), and you were clear that you weren't ready for a relationship beyond just being friends at the time.
The next few months, we drifted away from one another. I watched you find someone else; those next few months, watching you looking so happy with someone else, were the hardest times I have ever gone through. The pain I went through during that time is something that I pray neither you nor anyone else has to experience. It very nearly broke me, and it is only by the grace of God that I made it through.
After we reconnected and restored our friendship, I told myself that I would respect your wishes and simply be an honest, supportive friend. For a time, I convinced myself that it would be possible to simply be your friend and keep my feelings for you contained. However, over the past few weeks, I have realized that I could more easily hold back the Amazon River with my bare hands than hold back my feelings for you.
Any time I spend with you is the high point of my week; when I go about my day, I see your beautiful face and hear your delightful laugh. I remember in vivid detail your wonderfully compassionate smile, and I count the days until I can see you again. Will I ever be able to tell you I love you? Must my feelings remain hidden forever? How I wish I could show you just what you mean to me!
I hope that someday I find the opportunity to tell you this; I realize now that as much as I value your friendship, I care about you too much to keep up this pretense of only caring about you as a friend. Someday, I will no longer be able to keep from telling you.
All my love to you,
Davin | 2017-11-05T23:44:56 | 2017-11-05T21:31:39 | 32 | 19 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | To you, whom I didn’t treat right, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry in a way that you may not even realize because it hurts me every day that I live I remember you. I remember not being the very best for you and that cracks me deep down, I don’t know how else to say it. I feel fractured because I wasn’t the best for you, and I wish so badly I could’ve been your superman, your hero, or at the very least your friend. You deserved and deserve so much more than I gave you and I pray you find a hero who will give you everything I didn’t. I made a choice through my inaction to not live to my fullest and treat you the best, I let you down. But please know that I honestly feel we are both better for it. Kintsukoroi means “golden repair”, essential we are better for having been broken and living past it, and I hope desperately that it will get better for you, or maybe it already has, I’m not sure. What I do know is that you are a beautiful entity, one the world sure could use more of, so go out and be more than who you were, because you are stronger now. You have your kintsukoroi, so it’s about time I get a move on with mine. | Name changes, for privacy reasons, but here goes.
My dear Maria,
I recall in vivid detail the conversations we once shared, about where our lives were headed, our hopes and fears, our dreams and nightmares. I never told you outright how much I love you, and that is the only thing in life I truly regret. I tried telling you one day (though I didn't do a very good job of it), and you were clear that you weren't ready for a relationship beyond just being friends at the time.
The next few months, we drifted away from one another. I watched you find someone else; those next few months, watching you looking so happy with someone else, were the hardest times I have ever gone through. The pain I went through during that time is something that I pray neither you nor anyone else has to experience. It very nearly broke me, and it is only by the grace of God that I made it through.
After we reconnected and restored our friendship, I told myself that I would respect your wishes and simply be an honest, supportive friend. For a time, I convinced myself that it would be possible to simply be your friend and keep my feelings for you contained. However, over the past few weeks, I have realized that I could more easily hold back the Amazon River with my bare hands than hold back my feelings for you.
Any time I spend with you is the high point of my week; when I go about my day, I see your beautiful face and hear your delightful laugh. I remember in vivid detail your wonderfully compassionate smile, and I count the days until I can see you again. Will I ever be able to tell you I love you? Must my feelings remain hidden forever? How I wish I could show you just what you mean to me!
I hope that someday I find the opportunity to tell you this; I realize now that as much as I value your friendship, I care about you too much to keep up this pretense of only caring about you as a friend. Someday, I will no longer be able to keep from telling you.
All my love to you,
Davin | 2017-11-05T23:09:04 | 2017-11-05T21:31:39 | 29 | 19 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | To you, whom I didn’t treat right, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry in a way that you may not even realize because it hurts me every day that I live I remember you. I remember not being the very best for you and that cracks me deep down, I don’t know how else to say it. I feel fractured because I wasn’t the best for you, and I wish so badly I could’ve been your superman, your hero, or at the very least your friend. You deserved and deserve so much more than I gave you and I pray you find a hero who will give you everything I didn’t. I made a choice through my inaction to not live to my fullest and treat you the best, I let you down. But please know that I honestly feel we are both better for it. Kintsukoroi means “golden repair”, essential we are better for having been broken and living past it, and I hope desperately that it will get better for you, or maybe it already has, I’m not sure. What I do know is that you are a beautiful entity, one the world sure could use more of, so go out and be more than who you were, because you are stronger now. You have your kintsukoroi, so it’s about time I get a move on with mine. | Justin,
It's been a little over 3 years since you died. I still get hit with random emotions that make me burst into tears thinking about you. Both anger and sadness. I think about how things would be different if I had said or done things another way. If I had told dad you could come live with me, would you still be alive? I miss having you around for sharing stupid things off of Reddit or Imgur. I miss Netflix-ing Korean horror movies with you over Xbox Live and trying to time it just right on both of our consoles so it was like we were in the same room. You pushed me to start playing Call Of Duty which, silly as it is, has lead me to the wonderful life I have now.
I wish you could see your nephew now. He's so big and smart, and he looks so much like you that it made mom cry the last time she saw him. Your niece never got to meet you, but I will make sure she knows who you are. They both have the same defiant streak you had, which is both frustrating and heartbreaking.
Why did you have to take those drugs? I wish I had let you come down and live with me. You never would have met those shit heads that left you to die instead of calling 911. I can't say that I think about you everyday... It hurts too much. But I see you in my dreams. I always try to save you, but I never can and it hurts just as bad as when I got the call from Uncle Joe while I was at Disney World, because dad couldn't compose himself enough to talk on the phone. He has destroyed himself because you two didn't have a good relationship and it kills him that you never will now. I am afraid he will kill himself when grandma dies. She's the last person he has that needs him, now.
I don't believe in an afterlife, and neither did you. But I hope wherever you are... nowhere, or wherever people go when they die... that you aren't suffering. I love and miss you.
XXOO | 2017-11-05T23:09:04 | 2017-11-05T21:34:09 | 29 | 17 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Elizabeth
I never really knew you, but I'll never forget you. I see your face every time I'm alone in my car, and it always brings me to tears. I want you to know that I tried so hard to save you. I tried everything I could. I'm sorry your parents had to see what we did to you. I'm sorry they had to see the tubes sticking out of your throat and the needles I drilled into your bones. When I realized in the back of the ambulance that we weren't going to get you back no matter what we did, it nearly broke me. I'm so sorry for what happened to you.
- the paramedic who tried to save you
#2321 | Hey Dad,
I've grown up and got a decent job. I have 2 sons and I've carried on our family name like you always wanted. I was only 11 when you passed but I still think about you all the time. I never got to tell you I love you and I'm sorry I was scared to give you a hug in the hospice, I was young and scared. I loved you very much. Mom didn't let me see you often because we lived a few hundred miles away but I always cherished our time together. She gave me the letters you wrote after I turned 18 and it makes me mad thinking about how she kept me from you. I have forgiven her, it's not like she or anyone else knew the cancer in your brain would take you so fast. I hope I make you proud with what I have become. I wish you could meet your grandkids. Logan, the oldest, asks about you from time to time. I tell him a lot of stories and how great of a dad you were. Anyway I'm babbling on. I'll never forget you and I miss you everyday. I love you.
-Mason
Thanks OP, this has really helped even though I'm laying in bed with tears swelling in my eyes. I have to be quiet as to not make the pain visible to my sleeping wife. | 2017-11-06T02:41:21 | 2017-11-06T02:11:26 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Elizabeth
I never really knew you, but I'll never forget you. I see your face every time I'm alone in my car, and it always brings me to tears. I want you to know that I tried so hard to save you. I tried everything I could. I'm sorry your parents had to see what we did to you. I'm sorry they had to see the tubes sticking out of your throat and the needles I drilled into your bones. When I realized in the back of the ambulance that we weren't going to get you back no matter what we did, it nearly broke me. I'm so sorry for what happened to you.
- the paramedic who tried to save you
#2321 | I really miss the look on your face when I would pop up unannounced... You would walk into the room, eyes lit up and say "my Andy!" That always made my day. I loved feeling wanted, needed, loved. I'm starting to ache from the pain of no longer hearing your laugh. The way it would hit me full on in the chest and bounce around all of my insides until everything was right in the world. I miss the way your eyes glowed when I was happy and the way they would darken when I was putting on a false smile. I miss the way I could tell you anything and you never judged me, you shared a story of your own. I miss my best friend.... My heart, my rock, my everything. And though I have so many people around me that love me and care for me, try so hard to keep my head above water for me... I can't help but feel like there will always be a part of me that's missing. No one will ever bounce around my insides until they are a gushy mess of happiness the way that you did. They say the memories will make it easier in the long run... But sometimes... The memories crush me.
I just need you here with me. It kills me that you’re gone and I can’t do anything about it. I can never see you again and my soul aches with exhaustion. I don’t know how to live without you alive. | 2017-11-06T02:41:21 | 2017-11-06T00:06:31 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] The year is 2038 and net neutrality has been dead for almost two decades. But a rebellious group managed to travel back to 2017...
https://www.battleforthenet.com/#bftn-action-form
Edit: Obligatory thanks for the gold! Just trying to do my part on this fight, but as I don't live in the US, raising awareness is the most I can do, glad it worked! | Chapter 1:
Two birds with one stone.
Those were grandfather Elon's last words.
He hadn't whispered them, no.
He had invented them... and engraved them onto the side of the titanium sphere.
It was no secret that our family had been part of the revolution. Grandpa's effect on the world had been as far reaching anyone could've imagined. His constant innovating and activism, and his unwavering commitment to ultimate truth had been garnering unwanted attention since before any of us were even born™. It's a miracle they even pardoned him after the corporations finally shut it down.
Strange as it seems, things felt pretty normal for us.
How was I supposed to know that 10' by 10' crate in the basement was any different from the myriad of inventions and rocket parts gathering dust in storage? In fact, I hadn't even noticed it until its specific mention in our power of attorney meeting last fall. Grandad had been deteriorating and all I had wanted to do was see to his care.
Who the fuck leaves their grandkids a time machine?!
Chapter 2:
"Box Clause"
(I swear I have a whole plot outline drawn up for this, but I have to go to bed. Will try to finish up tomorrow. If you want it, PM me and I will share it with you.) | I remembered seeing this back now.
I thought I should stop by to 2017 on my way back to bitch-slap Karl Marx, and let you all know that it all ends up okay. All of this protesting gets us nowhere, and they do succeeded in banning net neutrality, but the free market saves us. It always does.
Around mid 2018, despite all of their promises to the contrary, AT&T and Verizon began capitalising on their duopoly. For a few months the future looked truly bleak as people started going outside and getting exposed to the sun, and other people. Necks were shaved, showers were had, it was horrible.
But seemingly out of nowhere - although in hindsight we really should have trusted in the wisdom of Ajit Pai - smaller ISP's started popping up all along the east coast. The cynics in us outwardly dismissed them and their dreams for a better world; Didn't they know that the corporations and their evil capitalism were too great an opponent? But secretly we all hoped they would succeed and allow us to return to our slovenly ways.
And succeed they did! It wasn't immediately clear how, but over time it was revealed that many of the big content providers had been preparing for just this eventuality. By 2025 Google alone had seeded over 9000 smaller ISP's across the nation. It wasn't fast, and there were many lawsuits, but by time President Trump suffered that fatal aneurysm, we were all safely back in our hovels, bingeing on the latest forgettable rubbish, and spewing our arbitrary opinions into the void.
Still, you are here now, and you can not know that this is other than a fictitious tale. But when the brutal sun is beating down on you as you scurry about in the big outdoors, and you think it's all gone to shit, try to remember: you sometimes need to go through horrible times to truly appreciate the good in the mundane. | 2017-11-21T23:06:17 | 2017-11-21T23:01:17 | 44 | 14 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "I know of a game," said the man, finally speaking up after a long pause. Death's glare shifted, as if his bony face cocked an eyebrow. The man crossed his arms, collecting himself for the explanation. The only way to win this game was to make sure the other party lost first, after all.
"Well?" Death questioned, growing impatient. "What is it?"
Having prepared himself, the man looked up at Death, ready to win.
"Have you heard of The Game?" | "Alright, so you're telling me that if I beat you at ANY game I can go back for another 10 years?!" said the man.
"Yes." said Death. "Any game of your choosing. Cheating is all-"
"Yeah, yeah. Cheating yadda yadda. I heard it the first time." the man snapped.
Death furled what the man assumed to be his brow at the man cutting him off.
Death sat there in silence, motionless. Just waiting for the man in front of him to pick his game.
The man started, "You know, I've play SO many games in my life. So many that I can't even remember what the stories were about anymore, they all just seem to run together."
Death looked on in horror as the man's name started to make more sense.
"I'm guessing you're starting to recognize me at this point, just like it says on the paper you read my name off of-" said the man.
"...I'm Gary fucking Gygax."
Edit: I never really do any prompts. I just thought this sounded fun. Critique if you want. I won't mind it! | 2018-03-07T07:43:55 | 2018-03-07T06:04:24 | 251 | 97 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "I know of a game," said the man, finally speaking up after a long pause. Death's glare shifted, as if his bony face cocked an eyebrow. The man crossed his arms, collecting himself for the explanation. The only way to win this game was to make sure the other party lost first, after all.
"Well?" Death questioned, growing impatient. "What is it?"
Having prepared himself, the man looked up at Death, ready to win.
"Have you heard of The Game?" |
Death throws rock, I throw rock.
Death throws paper, I throw paper.
Death throws scissors, I throw scissors.
"Its very clear that this will take a while"
Ten years of stalemate go by, finally Death throws paper and I scissors.
Underneath his dark hood, Death whispers "You win."
I blink and find myself alone in a stale hospital room A soft yellow light is illuminating the eggshell white walls and recovery room decorations.
My head is swimming and my eyes hurt, but I did it. I finally beat death.
From the corner of the room I hear the click of the doorknob and see the sway of the door through my foggy vision. In walks the only company I've had for what seemed like an eternity. Death.
"Wait! You said you would give me 10 years!" I meekly sqweek recoiling to the headboard in horror.
"It has been ten years." says Death with a small chuckle.
"How could this be?" I mutter with shock and disbelief.
Death slowly moves his fleshless left hand in front of his torso open palmed and face up, than his right hand over his left in a skeletal fist.
"Two out of three?" | 2018-03-07T07:43:55 | 2018-03-07T07:40:40 | 251 | 18 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "Alright, so you're telling me that if I beat you at ANY game I can go back for another 10 years?!" said the man.
"Yes." said Death. "Any game of your choosing. Cheating is all-"
"Yeah, yeah. Cheating yadda yadda. I heard it the first time." the man snapped.
Death furled what the man assumed to be his brow at the man cutting him off.
Death sat there in silence, motionless. Just waiting for the man in front of him to pick his game.
The man started, "You know, I've play SO many games in my life. So many that I can't even remember what the stories were about anymore, they all just seem to run together."
Death looked on in horror as the man's name started to make more sense.
"I'm guessing you're starting to recognize me at this point, just like it says on the paper you read my name off of-" said the man.
"...I'm Gary fucking Gygax."
Edit: I never really do any prompts. I just thought this sounded fun. Critique if you want. I won't mind it! | “You got it?”
The question takes me off guard, I’m still trying to process this new info. The tall man with the black hooded cloak at the end of my bed tilted his head slightly, the scythe that rested in the crook of his arm caught the moonlight ominously.
“Sorry, this outfit does normally startles people. How’s this?”
His form shimmered and before me stood an old gentleman with immaculately manicured whiskers and a twinkle in His eye. His tweed suit with matching trilby in stark contrast to His previous outfit. He adjusted his grip on His suspiciously scythe-like curved cane.
“Ahh, less doom and gloom now. Gotta keep up appearances though,” He indicated His cane, ”So how’s that choice of game coming along?”
The question was delivered with considerably less dread attached than the previous proposition. More like that of certain playful gods from the pantheons rather than Death come to claim you.
A small whoosh of breath escaped my lips. A decision has to be made. This body of mine was considerably less spry than my younger years, and nor was my mind functioning at full capacity. What game could I choose and what chance did I have, it seemed like anything was on the table. Did I even want to win? I had lived a full life, I tried to be kind, a good person, I saw the world, I loved my family. Did I need more of that if He has decided it was my time?
Resolved, I look up at Him. He smiled broadly, a smile of a man confident in himself “What shall it be, a game of strength, of skill, or perhaps of wits?”
“A game of chance perhaps,” I responded, his smile broadening to one of pure glee.
“Now this, should be interesting.” | 2018-03-07T06:04:24 | 2018-03-07T02:57:36 | 97 | 46 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "I... admit that I am not familiar with that particular game," Death said, hesitantly. "What are the rules?"
He sat in his bed, smiling to himself. He had become an old man, but his spirit was alive and well. "Oh, nothing too complicated," he replied. "In order to set it up, we will need certain materials: a ball, some wickets, and a couple of flags. We'll also need a wooded field on which to play."
With a wave of his hand, Death brought them to a field, with all the requirements that had been set. It was clear to Death that this was a physical test of some variety, and he was beginning to become nervous. Why would an eighty year old man choose to compete in a sporting event, with his life on the line?
"Alright," said the man. "Let's set up the wickets, and we each choose a flag. Then, we play!"
"I begin to find this tiresome," responded Death. "You will explain it to me now. How do I win? What are the rules of this 'Calvinball'?" | “You got it?”
The question takes me off guard, I’m still trying to process this new info. The tall man with the black hooded cloak at the end of my bed tilted his head slightly, the scythe that rested in the crook of his arm caught the moonlight ominously.
“Sorry, this outfit does normally startles people. How’s this?”
His form shimmered and before me stood an old gentleman with immaculately manicured whiskers and a twinkle in His eye. His tweed suit with matching trilby in stark contrast to His previous outfit. He adjusted his grip on His suspiciously scythe-like curved cane.
“Ahh, less doom and gloom now. Gotta keep up appearances though,” He indicated His cane, ”So how’s that choice of game coming along?”
The question was delivered with considerably less dread attached than the previous proposition. More like that of certain playful gods from the pantheons rather than Death come to claim you.
A small whoosh of breath escaped my lips. A decision has to be made. This body of mine was considerably less spry than my younger years, and nor was my mind functioning at full capacity. What game could I choose and what chance did I have, it seemed like anything was on the table. Did I even want to win? I had lived a full life, I tried to be kind, a good person, I saw the world, I loved my family. Did I need more of that if He has decided it was my time?
Resolved, I look up at Him. He smiled broadly, a smile of a man confident in himself “What shall it be, a game of strength, of skill, or perhaps of wits?”
“A game of chance perhaps,” I responded, his smile broadening to one of pure glee.
“Now this, should be interesting.” | 2018-03-07T08:28:53 | 2018-03-07T02:57:36 | 65 | 46 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "I... admit that I am not familiar with that particular game," Death said, hesitantly. "What are the rules?"
He sat in his bed, smiling to himself. He had become an old man, but his spirit was alive and well. "Oh, nothing too complicated," he replied. "In order to set it up, we will need certain materials: a ball, some wickets, and a couple of flags. We'll also need a wooded field on which to play."
With a wave of his hand, Death brought them to a field, with all the requirements that had been set. It was clear to Death that this was a physical test of some variety, and he was beginning to become nervous. Why would an eighty year old man choose to compete in a sporting event, with his life on the line?
"Alright," said the man. "Let's set up the wickets, and we each choose a flag. Then, we play!"
"I begin to find this tiresome," responded Death. "You will explain it to me now. How do I win? What are the rules of this 'Calvinball'?" | "Hey Death, whats up?"
Gary knew the bitter cloak of cold that surrounded him was the physical manifestation of Death. Most mortal folk would have cowered in fear if they knew the Grim Reaper was coming for them.
But not Gary. He had played this game before and won.
*You know why I have come, mortal.*
"Of course I do" he said as a smile crept over his lips. "I look forward to our little meetings".
In the corner of the room, a figure formed out of nothingness. The eyes always came first, they burned like a white hot fire if you looked into them for too long. The first of the Death god's bag of tricks, looking into those eyes for even a second would turn you into ash. Next came the cloak, a cloak so dark that it drank any light that tried to illuminate it. Even the human soul would be drained if a mortal made contact with it, the soul just being another form of energy and thus, light. Then the hands formed, more human than one would expect. Albeit, they were gross hands, diseased and raw with no skin. Touching those hands would be a slow and nasty death, but Gary knew better.
"Done showing off, old friend"?
*We are not friends. I have a debt to collect. Name your game, mortal.*
Gary chuckled the same way an adult would chuckle at an insolent child. "No need to get all hostile, I know this is just business for you". He tapped his chin in thought. "Any game right"?
*Don't play dumb. You know the rules.*
"Okay. Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2: Rust. Intervention only."
*Son of a bitch.*
Gary knew he had another ten years coming.
| 2018-03-07T08:28:53 | 2018-03-07T07:52:34 | 65 | 41 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | “How do you wanna do this?”
“I take my scythe, and like a badass I run down the Dragon’s back dragging it behind me.” Death replied standing on his feet in excitement.
The dm nods. “And with that you drag a mighty gash into back of the blue drake and land with a 3 point landing behind it as the dragon collapses with ‘hhhuuurghthhphp’.” He makes such a convincing noise that you might believe that a dragon just died in the room.
Death lets out a satisfied sigh and sits back down. “Alright, I’ve bested your dragon and conquered your dungeon. I win.” The dm nods once more and stands. “But before we go let me ask you one thing Death, did you have fun?” The reaper ponders for a second and nods. “Yeah, it was probably the most fun I’ve had in a while.” And with that Death was banished.
10 years go by and Death comes to the same man once again. “How did you do it? I beat the dragon and everything, I thought you lose!”
Matthew Mercer looks up from behind his DM’s screen with a bright smile. “The Dm doesn’t win when he kills his players. He wins when they have fun. So I have one question for you. Do you wanna play again? You leveled up.” | My heart was pounding as I sat in the plane, staring at the map. There was just me and one other person on board. I was waiting for him to take his exit first, staring at that yellow dot. However we were almost halfway through the island, and he was still there. Panicking I decided if I jumped and went straight down I might stand a chance.
I jumped, looking straight now to the center of the island, the school I knew so well. So many good and bad times in this school with my friends. I angled for the high roof, landed, and then fell off the roof.
I looked up, and say the tip of his parachute disappear over the rooftop. He had the advantage. Panicking, I started to run. I dived into a first floor window and into a classroom. A frying pan was on the teachers desk. I picked it up sadly, knowing it would not save me.
I went to the door, checking left then right, on my turn back to the left to start my run, I heard it. A slight footstep from the stairs nearby. There it was, the bastard himself, in a yellow banana suit, shot gun pointed at my face...
BAM! It was over. I was dead. A feeling I had had many times before, but this time I knew it was forever.... Except not! DINK! The bullets hit my pan! Saving me from lethal damage. I was alive, but in my shock I did not move. It was too late, he was going to end me with the next shot.
And then it happened. He never pulled the trigger. I just stood there for a second, confused. But I realized I had to take this opportunity. I took my pan and bashed his head in. WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"Brendan it's done, that ban wave we promised just rolled out. We even kicked them mid match."
"Good job intern Steve. That should keep the masses at bay for another day" | 2018-03-07T08:40:32 | 2018-03-07T07:11:15 | 32 | 17 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | “How do you wanna do this?”
“I take my scythe, and like a badass I run down the Dragon’s back dragging it behind me.” Death replied standing on his feet in excitement.
The dm nods. “And with that you drag a mighty gash into back of the blue drake and land with a 3 point landing behind it as the dragon collapses with ‘hhhuuurghthhphp’.” He makes such a convincing noise that you might believe that a dragon just died in the room.
Death lets out a satisfied sigh and sits back down. “Alright, I’ve bested your dragon and conquered your dungeon. I win.” The dm nods once more and stands. “But before we go let me ask you one thing Death, did you have fun?” The reaper ponders for a second and nods. “Yeah, it was probably the most fun I’ve had in a while.” And with that Death was banished.
10 years go by and Death comes to the same man once again. “How did you do it? I beat the dragon and everything, I thought you lose!”
Matthew Mercer looks up from behind his DM’s screen with a bright smile. “The Dm doesn’t win when he kills his players. He wins when they have fun. So I have one question for you. Do you wanna play again? You leveled up.” | I look at the game’s Death has surrounding the room.
There’s the ornate antique marble chess board, polished to a gleam with ivory and ebony pieces.
In stark contrast, right next to that there’s a well loved and worn checkerboard. It has obviously faded areas where players over the years slid their pieces over the board, rather than picking them up and placing them.
There are also many branded board games: Battleship, Connect Four, Monopoly, and *shit, is that...* ***Candy Land*** ?
There are some more modern ones that I’ve only heard of, but never played, like Settlers of Catan.
There are also a glut of various card games, like Uno, Magic of the Gathering, and even *Pokémon*!
Of course there’s also a deck of regular cards set out, and they’re somehow both a void of boundless incomprehensible black like a black hole in which no light can escape on the backs, and a ghastly bone white on the front.
The clubs and spades are more of the depthless black. The hearts and diamonds are glistening blood red.
I am intrigued.
“Go Fish.”, I say.
Death nods.
I think several times about cheating and not telling Death when I have I card, but I know I have a poor poker face. Even when cheating is aloud in the rules, I still can’t bring myself to do it.
Death, sets down four fours, then the aces, then tens. I was only putting down about one set to every three that Death was managing. I was going to lose.
The last sets were made, and there was no need to count them, I was so far behind.
My stomach sunk to my knees.
Death smiled, “You passed the test.”
I blanched, “How so? I lost!”
“You didn’t cheat. The test was whether or not you cheat, win or lose, you pass the test when you decide not to cheat.”
The next thing I know, I blearily wake up to the steady sound of a hospital heart monitor.
-fin
Edit: formatting, again | 2018-03-07T08:40:32 | 2018-03-07T07:49:56 | 32 | 10 |
[WP] You, an average, law abiding person, just somehow accidentally killed Earth's greatest and most powerful superhero on live, global TV. It happened while he was fighting his ultimate nemesis in their final confrontation. | "I swear I didn't intend to do this !"
everything was silent, and people were looking at me in shock.
It wasn't my fault ! I was just working, as usual. Just screwing screws, fixing things, the usual.
Of course there was noise down there, but it's a City ! there is always noise.
And then it happened. There were huge light flashes, a big "BOOM", and I felt something shaking me, like an earthquake.
So I fell from the Beam I was on, taking my hammer and bottle of water with me.
Now, I'm a responsible man. I managed to grab the next beam, and keep the hammer. You see, I don't want to hurt people.
But the bottle fell, and something on its way downward probably cut it.
*No big deal* I first thought.
... and the water fell on him at high speed.
Killing him as he was fighting his nemesis.
I killed Earth's greatest and most powerful Hero. On live TV. And everyone saw that it was me.
... How could I know it was him under me, and, bloody hell, HOW COULD I KNOW WATER WAS HIS WEAKNESS ???!! | They were fighting. A man was beating a woman. She could barely protect herself. What else could I have done? I did not know who they were. But if I did, I would have done differently.
You wanted to hear my story. How I murdered the most powerful superhero?
I do not have much time. They will execute me really soon.
As I was walking home from work, just minding my own business, I saw a group of people gathered in a circle. I went to see what it is. All I could see was two people fighting.
I pushed myself through the crowd. I couldn't believe what I saw. A woman, all bloody, was lying on the floor, barely able to protect herself. There was also a man, beating her. It was not okay of all of those people only to watch.
Even worse, a man next to me had a gun. I could take his gun, and shoot that guy. I took a gun, aimed and fired. That guy just freezer for a second. Blood came out of his head. He dropped to the floor, dead.
The people looked at me like I just murdered a king. Even some reporters were there. The people attacked me. But, the cops stopped them, and dragged me to their car.
I thought they were going to save me, but they rode me to the station. An officer told me what happened. I was frozen. I just murdered someone. I hoped this would never happen. If only there was a way.
Now, I have nothing else to do. I wrote this letter, and I am now hoping someone would read it. And understand. Understand how I truly saw it.
In a couple of days I will be executed. I will exist no longer, but my memory will. Although not in the way I wanted to. | 2018-03-22T07:39:53 | 2018-03-22T04:32:44 | 31 | 12 |
[WP] A creature that eats emotions met you, and was horrified when it tasted your chronic depression. Today marks its 24th attempt to cure you with seasoning.
Edit: Holy Crap, I was not expecting this kind of response. I'm blown away, y'all. You rock! | The creature first visited me on a long, lonely night, another sleepless, dreadful twilight that I was spending brooding over the pointlessness of my existence.
It crept into my house and swept me up off the couch with ease, gripping me tightly, my face inches away from rows of razor sharp teeth.
'*This is it,*' I thought to myself. '*Finally...*'
But the creature did not bite my head off, or rip me limb from limb; No, its long, cat-like tongue extended from its horrid mouth and scraped across my face -leaving me drenched in its rank saliva.
It let out a foul wail and released me from its grasp. "**Disgusting!**" It bellowed in a disappointing tone.
"Sorry..." I was accustomed to apologizing, I've always had a way of ruining things up for folks.
The creature left me soaked in my living room, and returned the following night for another attempt. Only this time, it had me eat a handful of herbs it pulled from a large pouch. They tasted bland, I never really had much of an appetite for anything.
Again, the creature sampled my flesh with its tongue and again it was repulsed.
And so, this began our nightly routine. The creature would return, feed me herbs and spices, sample the seasoning, and wail in disgust. I began to feel sorry that I continually disappointed the beast, and hoped one day it would find the right mixture of seasoning to end it all.
Nearly a month of the creature's visits, and I'd come to anticipate its arrival. At this point in my life, this monster was the closest thing to a friend I had.
But one night, the creature never arrived. I sat up waiting until the sun finally peaked over the hills, and I accepted the fact that the creature had given up on me -as everyone else in my life already had.
However, to my surprise, the next night the creature returned! Oh, I felt such joy when I witnessed its massive form creep up from behind and into my vision.
"I thought you'd moved on." I said with a faint smile.
The creature examined me intently before speaking. "**Something different tonight...**"
Without reaching into its bag of herbs and spices, the creature stuck out its tongue and sampled my face. I welcomed the warm embrace, like a hug from a friend I hadn't seen in ages, and, this time, the creature didn't withdraw in disgust.
"**Hmmm, not bad!**" The creature nodded its massive head. "**Feeling better?**"
I looked down at the floor, realizing that I was probably about to be eaten. "You came back; You didn't give up on me..."
The creature paused, and I'm not sure, but I think I saw slight pools welling up in its eyes.
It didn't eat me that night, or the next, or the night after that. It doesn't come every night now, but it stops by a few times a week and tastes my flesh. I'm not sure if it plans on eating me, but I know I can count on it being there -and that's enough for me.
/r/BeagleTales | A rustle of bushes. She's here.
I sigh, resigned. "Hello, Jackie." My name for her. One she insisted on, really.
"Hi, cutie. How goes things?"
I smile reluctantly. "Fine."
I can't see it, but I can feel her pouting. "Come ooon, that's not true. You still taste... funny."
"What does that mean, anyway?"
"Funny. Y'know, bitter. Tart. Like rotten grapes, or a glass of lemonade that's been sittin' out too long." A puckering of the lips. "Bleh."
"Well. I apologize if I'm a little bitter. Then again, I'm used to disappointing people."
"Oh stop. You know there are people who care about you very much. I do, for one."
I smile again. "True, but you're not exactly people."
"Also true, but can people do this?"
Before I can object, she's begun the feeding process. It starts with a tingling in the extremities, and blossoms into an all over buzzing, similar to being drunk and not at all unpleasant.
When it fades, Jackie speaks the words I never thought I would hear from her.
"Ooh, that's good!"
"Huh?" I respond, perplexed.
"Oh, well... Just now, when I fed off you, it tasted... good. Like, still tart, but with a sweet aftertaste." She smiles in my head. "I think I'm finally getting through to you.
"And what does that mean?"
"Why do you think I've been sticking around you for the past year? It certainly wasn't for my benefit. I've had to feed off that depression of yours for days on end sometimes."
I scowl at her internally. "And?"
"Well, this time, the depression was there, but it tasted... bittersweet. Like something changed. Think back to all those times I was there, even when you didn't want me. Yeah, I'm annoying, but I was determined to be there. And I think it's made a change on you."
There are tears in my eyes. When did I start crying? Why am I crying? I should stop.
"And after all my effort, I wasn't getting anywhere. Until today. Sometimes I wonder why I stuck through it all. And I know."
I know too. And I don't want to hear it. I cover my ears, but it does nothing to quell her voice. She's all around me.
"I love you."
I'm openly weeping now, tears falling to the ground. Why? How can she love me so much? What have I done to deserve it? Let her devour my problems, so I can have a modicum of peace? And now, even after a year, the best I can muster for her is "bittersweet."
"You're so weird. Didn't I just tell you you taste better? So cheer up! For both our sakes - because I'm not leavin' you anytime soon."
"Why?" I manage to choke. "Why me?"
A shrug. "You're the only one who tasted so bad. I knew, though, that if you could convert that bad energy into positive, it would be amazing. So I stuck around, feeding off your depression, and sneaking you little bits of kindness, because I knew it would pay off in the end. And it has."
There's that tingly feeling again. Thus time, though, I can tell she isn't feeding off of me. This wonderful feeling is mine to keep.
I've stopped crying, but I'm overcome with emotion. "How can I thank you?"
A smile. "Just be yourself. Keep your head up. I'm one step behind you. But I don't have any feet."
So that's what I do. I have my up days, my down days, and days in between. But that's what I've come to accept.
Life is bittersweet. | 2018-06-15T21:36:27 | 2018-06-15T21:29:27 | 4,139 | 1,089 |
[WP] You're listening to Plot Relevant Radio, the only radio station that fits the situation of one randomly selected listener. We hope you're all safe tonight, as next up we're going to be playing The Final Countdown by Europe. | What’s up, Rockers?! This this Al-your-Pal here on the 9 o’clock hour on **KZFP: The Shred!!!** For all of you new listeners out there, 9 o’clock weeknights is our plot-relevant song hour; one lucky anonymous listener out there gets a song exactly scripted to their experiences **right now!!** Don’t ask how we do it! I could tell you, but then my manager would have to **kill you!**
After this is another 55-minute **non-stop classic rock block**, courtesy of your friends at Greenwich automotive! At the end of the hour we’ll be **revealing the lucky listener – whether they like it or not!!** Guess what he or she was doing at the start of the hour to win **two free tickets to GrindFest!!!** Call in your guesses before 10 pm, and keep it locked to **103.7 KZFP: The Shred!!!!**
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yes Callers, that was *The Final Countdown* by Europe! Unfortunately, nobody guessed what was the song was referring to, which is probably for the best! Nobody wants their Friday night ruined by a visit from the **C-I-A!!!**
And to Dr. Naham, here’s hoping your team get that glitch sorted out! Nobody wants a **nuclear missile** being fired by accident - though I can think of a few places you could aim it!! **COUGH North Korea COUGH!!**
Well if he hasn’t, it could mean **the end of the world as we know it!!! Who knows where that bomb will go, or even if it’s gone at all?!!**
So good luck Dr. Naham! Give us a call from Nellis Airforce Base! And for the rest of you Rockers out there, just remember to **Duck and Cover!** Grab a drink and kiss the kids, ‘cause we might be in for the **Most Metal Night of Our Lives!!** This is Al-your-Pal signing off…on **KZFP: The Shred!!!** | "I don't and I don't and I don't."
The meandering voice encircled him, crescendoing.
He was getting closer now. The shimmering blue lights were frantic around him.
The aimless wandering of the voice gave way to an unfamiliar rumble, just as he came to a large open chamber. It was a hazmat analysis node.
Synthetic music reverberated.
*Sounds like the shit Diogo was listening to.*
Here was what he'd come for.
An explosion rocked the station. *Or was it the music?*
"Julie," he said. "Hey. Julie. Wake up. I need you to wake up now."
Driving drums pounded in his ears.
"We're leaving together, but still it's farewell," he said. Eros seemed to be singing his words back to him.
“Who are you?” Julie asked.
“Name’s Miller.”
“I’m scared.”
“It’s all right, but right now the whole station is heading back for Earth. Really fast.”
“I dreamed I was racing. I was going home.”
“Yeah, we need to stop that.”
“Can we come back?”
“Maybe we’ll come back to Earth, but who can tell?”
“I guess there is no one to blame.”
*Well, that wasn’t technically true.*
Miller shrugged reassuringly. “Not anymore, no.”
He could now feel himself floating, leaving ground.
“Will things ever be the same, Miller?”
He changed topics quickly.
“Give me your hand.” He took his hand terminal and pressed her thumb to the dead man's switch.
“What is it?”
“It’s the final countdown.”
The synthesizers were blasting again.
“Oh,” was all she could muster.
“We’re heading for Venus,” Miller suggested.
“That’s not what it wants.”
“You’re a fighter, Julie.”
“And still we stand tall, tall, tall…” the voices were overlapping again. Her eyes glossed over.
“Seen us seen us seen us, maybe they’ve seen us?” Julie’s tone was getting frantic.
*All eyes are on us.* Miller chuckled.
“Venus will welcome us all.” He pointed around the station at the floating blue lights.
“What happens on Venus?”
“We die maybe? I don’t know. With so many light years to go…” he trailed off.
Julie finished his sentence. “And things to be found.”
Miller nodded. “To be found.”
“I’m scared. I want go home, to Earth.”
“I’m sure that we’ll all miss her so.” *The rest of humanity will be glad we missed.*
The flashing blue lights seemed to speed up, furious now.
Julie’s lip quivered, she looked pained.
Miller felt the station lurch - their course was changing.
“What is it, Julie?”
“It’s the final countdown.” | 2018-08-20T22:18:26 | 2018-08-20T20:10:11 | 760 | 43 |
[WP] After buying a sword online, you go to the local archery club to recruit a ranger as a joke. A guy comes up and says "I'm in. Now we need a mage. I know a place." | Carl pulled up to the location in the park he'd got off the archery club's facebook page. They met here every Sunday morning, and it was finally time for him to get some hilarious footage. He turned off the truck and looked over to his colleague in the passenger seat: a scrawny, dark haired young man with a camera.
"Alright. You stay here, if you have the window rolled down then the audio will be fine. I'm going to be pretty triumphant about the whole thing."
They both snickered as Carl hopped out of the vehicle, his online purchase sheathed at his side. As he approached the group of awkward looking folks with bows, he turned back to look for his camera man's approval. The pasty kid in the passenger seat gave him a thumbs up, and the show commenced.
"Here ye, noble rangers!" He unsheathed the sword and thrust it high into the air. "I am the great warrior Carlonian, and a daunting quest has laid itself bare before me."
The archers had stopped their activities, and he continued with all attention on him.
"But alas, my bravery and blade are not enough to see me through. No! I require a faithful companion, both true of soul and aim!" He strutted about dramatically, pointing the blade at each of the bow wielders as his speech grew ever more dramatic, "You? Or you, perhaps? Which among you is willing to face down the very spawns of hell with me, for glory, riches, and HONOR!?"
Silence, and then one of the younger bowmen, no more than twelve, answered, "Fuck off, asshole!"
The group laughed, but not as hard as Carl as he strode back to his truck, swinging the sword wildly about as he ran.
"Oh my, that was awesome. How'd it look?!" His excitement had him short of breath.
"Ridiculous," His camera man was still laughing, "Let's just hope the audio on that kid can be heard over me giggling!"
"You there, Carlonian!"
The deep voice from behind Carl made him drop his sword, and he turned to face a rather hairy man standing uncomfortably close.
"Uhhh, yes! Have you considered my proposal?" Carl turned for a moment and whispered to his friend, "*Keep filming...*" He smiled and turned back to the bowman.
"I have indeed, and duty insists that I accept!" The man bowed low, and Carl got a clean view of the crack of his ass before he rose back up. He was covered in dark, fuzzy hair, aside from his balding head, and his tan shirt ran just a bit too small around his plump midriff. His bow and quiver were slung around his back, and Carl noticed the impressive detail in some of the bows etchings.
'Super bow-nerd, perfect!' He thought to himself.
Carl got himself back into character and answered, "Splendid! And what shall we call you, friend?"
The bowman pounded his fist to his chest and then held out his arm to Carl, "I am Slim! The greatest bowman of this age and possibly any other, past or future, at your service!"
Carl swung his arm out and caught Slim's inner elbow with his hand, like he'd seen in so many movies, so that their forearms united. He felt the man's thick hair nearly envelope his hand and quickly removed it and patted Slim on the shoulder.
"And who is this unfortunate looking fellow? Your noble squire?" He gestured towards the kid in the passenger seat, camera still trained on them, who's face contorted into an ugly frown at Slim's description of him.
The frowning kid was about to answer, with a name like Brutanicus or Shadow in mind, but Carl beat him to it.
"Yes, my faithful squire, Nitwittus!" Carl cleared the path so that they may embrace.
Nitwittus reluctantly got out of the vehicle, held the camera in one hand, and grabbed an arm full of fur with the other.
Slim looked ecstatic, and gestured towards Carl's sword, still resting in the dirt.
"Your weapon, good Carlonian," He shifted his foot under the sword's hilt, and in a movement neither of the other men accurately tracked he kicked it into the air and caught it with one hand, "I have not seen a relic such as this in quite some time..." He held it out blade end down, and Carl carefully took it back with both hands, stunned by Slim's agility.
"Uhh, right. It.. You know, it gets the job done." He fumbled through his words almost as clumsily as he sheathed the sword.
Slim drew in close, very close, the ends of his mustache nearly brushing against Carl's chin, "And how did you acquire such a weapon, Carlonian?"
Carl refocused, not wanting to spoil the gag, and his tone darkened with his gaze, "You know how these things go, Slim, *the weapon chooses its master*."
Carl heard Nitwittus say something behind him under his breath that sounded like 'hell yes', and Slim drew back a bit, his smile overtaking his hairy face again.
"Yes, noble warrior, yes they do!" He was practically bouncing up and down he was so excited, "Now! Before we begin our preparations, we must round out this fellowship of brave souls!"
Carl and Nitwittus both smiled at the thought of adding another outlandish character to this bit.
"We require the services of a mage, and not just any mage, but one who I have shared the road of adventure with countless times," He clapped his hands and gestured towards Carl's truck. "Shall we take your steed? It is less than a day's ride, by the pony goes."
Carl turned, then turned back to Slim. "The truck?"
"Yes, *truck*! Let us ride your mechanical horse to the resting place of my dear friend!" Slim was already moving as he spoke and had place himself in the center seat of the cab, his bow and quiver resting on his slightly exposed fuzzy belly.
/r/BeagleTales
| This joke is going to snowball I can feel it. This "ranger" hopped on board too quickly for this not to end up hilarious. Then again maybe I'm about to get mugged by this guy...
​
I hefted the cheap-ass katana I bought online. Its not very sharp but it could definitely hurt somebody. I bought it for shits and giggles on sale but it was still probably a huge waste of money. At least it might help me meet some people. Speaking of, the ranger and I looked to be headed for a back alley now. It wasn't sundown yet but it was getting close, and this city didn't have the best reputation, especially at night. My new "raiding partner," as he referred to himself, and I haven't said much to each other and I'm starting to get spooked. I should at least get his name in case he turns that bow on me.
​
"Hey man, I'm terrible with names. What was yours again?"
​
"The name's Longshot Johnson, but most people call me Long for short."
​
I raised a skeptical eyebrow but he gave no response.
​
Wow this guy is really committed to the whole archer thing. I wonder how much he spent on that bow, it looks expensive. Now that I'm really looking at him his jacket is actual leather too; and are those pants reinforced or something? Why do they look like they have alligator skin sewn into them? Damn this dude is tan too, it looks like he's been outside all his life. Man can commit to a character, that's for sure.
​
Long shot me an expectant look.
​
"Oh right, I'm Jack."
​
He looked at me, then forward, then at me again. He chewed his lip as we walked for a bit, then turned to me a third time.
​
"Like... Samurai Jack?"
​
"What? Uh, no that's just my name."
​
"You mean you used your real name for this?"
​
The fuck is wrong with this guy? I thought talking to him would make him seem more normal but its just getting worse. What does he even mean, "I used my real name for this?" Maybe I should back out before we get to wherever we're going... I turned back to Long.
​
"Well yeah, I didn't put too much effort into it, its just a gag. Look its going to get dark soon and I've got some... stuff to do? At home. So I'm just going to head back--"
​
Long cut me off with a quick shush and a finger to his lips. I took a look around at the dead end of the alley we'd been heading down. A few boxes, three walls, and nothing to hide behind. Well this is it then, I'm about to get murdered by a guy with a dick joke for name. I hefted the sword again but this time it was sad how light it was instead of funny. I can't believe I'm about to die for a joke.
​
Long walked up to the brick wall at the end of the alley, and started running his hands all over it. Then he pressed his ear up against the wall and started knocking on it, apparently searching for a specific noise.
​
What is this guy on?
​
I turned to leave before my day could get any weirder. Just as I'm about to make a break for it Long presses a brick in like a button and a large section of the wall slides back and stops. Long stood back with his hands on his hips looking the wall up and down. He waited a bit, swore vehemently, and then approached the wall again and kicked the section that had slid back. He frowned then started berating the wall and kicking it repeatedly.
​
For my part I stood there with my mouth agape. I was in utter shock at this point and wanted nothing more than to go home, but whatever was happening here was impossible to look away from. Like a bad car crash that you can see coming from a mile away.
​
After a particularly hard kick the wall decided to budge and started sliding along a track to the side. A now sweaty and out of breath Long turned back to me and beamed.
​
"Ready to find our mage?"
​
What the fuck?
​
I peered into the dark room that the sliding door/wall had revealed. My eyes wide and my heart beating out of my chest I approached cautiously. Booming music was emanating from hole, lights were flashing, fog was pouring out, and I could see a huge crowd of people dancing. The room was massive with high ceilings and a second level overlooking the dancefloor. Long gave me a push and I stumbled inside. The wall slid shut behind me and sealed flush.
​
What the hell am I looking at? Where's the rest of the building outside? This doesn't make any sense. I can barely comprehend this place.
​
My brain was on the verge of shutdown as my eyes adjusted to the relative darkness. It became apparent that this club was home to some of the most fantastical shit I'd ever seen. It was absolutely massive first of all, to the point where I couldn't make out peoples' faces at the far side of the room. There were people fucking *flying* between the balconies. A guy was chugging from a beer bong while floating upside down as his buddies cheered him on. To my left a woman in what were best described as slutty robes was giving air head to a guy that actually seemed to be enjoying it. The bar tender to my right was tossing drinks out, literally, and not a drop was spilling. I couldn't even grasp some of what was going on. My jaw might as well have unhinged it was so far open.
​
Long looked at me quizzically and shouted over the noise.
​
"What's the matter with you? Never been to a mage club before?"
​
"Wha- what?"
​
"What's that? I can't hear you!"
​
I screamed at the top of my lungs.
​
"WHAT THE FUCK!"
​
To be continued. Maybe. | 2018-09-13T10:33:25 | 2018-09-13T09:49:59 | 36 | 14 |
[WP] The longer you charge an attack, the more powerful it becomes. SWAT charges a punch for 30 seconds to break down a door. You’ve been charging for the last three days. | Today’s the day, Carl is coming over... you’ve been stood at the door for 3 days now just charging, waiting for him to arrive. He called you up and made the plans; it’s going to be radical.
The time draws ever closer; you know he’s doing the same thing. Excitement builds in the pit of your stomach as the clock strikes 2.
That’s when you hear it, footsteps in the hallway, he’s coming, you can hear the faint groan from the corridor, you start to voice yourself. The footsteps get louder, your voices follow suit, he’s at the door now; you’re both shouting in preparation.
You swing the door open and your eyes meet his, a bolt of adrenaline surges through you chest and into your arm, you both bring them forward at full strength
The fists collide.
Instantly a shockwave blasts out like a clock face between the pair of you, the doorframe splinters, cracks and peels away as it passes through it, the walls splits in several places and plaster flies off into the room. The furnitures shifts; completely rearranging the living room, all the whole the pair of you are steadfast; eyes locked; still screaming
The shockwave expands to the windows, shattering and blowing into the street below. You can hear the screams of passers by as they see the wave spread and dissipate across the street
Car alarms are going off, your house is in tatters. There is definitely structural damage, but you stand there, eyes still locked with Carl... you’re silent now.
You both straighten up and finally look around at the damage, Carl looks down at his fist, and then back at you with only one thing to say
‘Rad, dude’ | Celeste gripped her arms. Her hands glowing like a magnesium flare. She had been charging her attacks for three days. The relentless banging on her door had stopped long ago when her brother, Kai gave up on her.
It felt like space-time was warping around her. She could see objects bending and warping; the hum of electrics filling the room. She looked down at her hands.
"Now's a good as time as any." She mumbled. Closing her eyes, she released her attack. There was a brief moment of calm; and then the world shook.
They saw it out in space on the ISS. Debris and rocks ejecting out into low earth orbit. The british isles nothing more then an empty hole in the ocean taking most of coastal europe with it. Once water rushed in, tsunami's swept over the rest. It would be years and trillions before Europe would recover.
Dust turned the world dark, and the panic spread with it. A nuclear winter had just arrived and countries were trying to figure out whether to launch or not. Kai watched on a broken tv, in a desolate cafe sipping his coffee with one hand. He checked his hand. 2 days worth of charging here and it still wouldnt be enough. He waited.
3 months down the line and the world had lost half of its population now. China and the functional remains of russia had annexed as far as italy now. America was preparing for war while it underwent marshall law, it's citizens holed up like rats. Kai stood there in the shelters keeping his arm concealed. Just a little longer.
4 months and he was the only one left. The rest of them had starved and he was forced to use them to keep charging. It was worth it he would mutter as the bombs fell, as the world screamed around him, he could wait.
And once he did; there was a flash. An implosion of energy that torn space-time to shreds. Kai opened his eyes to see everything. The entire universe and all its constituants at every time and every space. It took the form of white noise, if you didnt know what to look for. Kai stepped forward. He knew his destination. The noise collapsed into atoms, into planets, into galaxies and soon he found himself in front of a familiar bedroom door. He knocked politely, opening it. Celeste sitting on her bed staring at her hand. Kai gently put his over hers shaking his head softly.
"Leave the world in peace for another day." | 2018-10-02T17:03:01 | 2018-10-02T14:09:41 | 514 | 53 |
[WP] On one hand, you're average at everything. On the other hand, you're average at EVERYTHING. | Never piss off a witch with a thing for statistics, that's what I'd tell my teenage self if I had a time machine.
Ever since that day I've been cursed to be average. Not mediocre. Average. At **everything**.
In my head things still seem clear but it's as if everything gets passed through the average filter.
Not median. Average.
There's an old joke... that anyone with 2 legs has an above average number of legs.
I'm pretty sure the curse is only about my abilities, not my physical form... but I did lose that one toe in an accident shortly after the curse started to take hold and my skin has gradually tanned to a darker shade than most in my family.
You see I'm limited to the average.
Not average for any given profession or group, average for **all humanity.**
Average sounds nice, it sounds like you should be OK at everything but that's all about who you're averaging.
Being as good at quantum physics as the average quantum physicist would be awesone. But for every physicist there's tens of thousands of non-physicists.
The average level of mastery of quantum physics across all humanity is barely hovering above zero. Anyone who's spent a few evenings on wikipedia reading about quantum physics is better at quantum physics than me.
Anyone who's ever been to a single blacksmithing lesson is better at blacksmithing than me because most people learn no blacksmithing at all.
Anyone who can program a computer even a tiny bit is better at programming than me... because for every person with any skill at all there's hundreds with none.
The average active vocabulary of an adult English speaker is around 20,000 words...
But **only about 400 million people are native English speakers.**
Thankfully there's lots of non-native speakers as well who push up the average vocabulary size.
Averaged across **all humanity** that leaves me with an english vocabulary of less than 4000 words.
I'm stuck speaking like a 5 year old. My intelligence is average, exactly so, but I was assumed to be mentally disabled.
It didn't help that extra tutoring didn't help me improve. I'm stuck with average ability, I can't improve my skills. A year of dance lessons leaves me pretty much exactly the same as on the day I started.
Displaying what appeared to be a modest flair for foreign languages helped. At least enough that they let me start running my own life. Thankfully most people are fairly ok at running their own lives. I've got decent Mandarin, ok conversational Hindi, passable Spanish, ok arabic , some Malay, some russian... you get the idea.
I moved to a Sino-Indian border town shortly after hitting 18. At least here I can get by on a mix of english, hindi and Mandarin, the billion+ Mandarin speakers mean I at least have a level of mastery of Mandarin on a par with an older child and I can manage unskilled work....
| Anthony Vander Ghal was considered funny, but not hysterical. A nice guy to be around, but not all the time. He drove to work in a 2011 Golf, it had a few war wounds and erroneous knocking sounds - that sounded like an actual golf ball loose in the back - but it served its purpose. He parked in the same spot as he had done for the last fifteen years and dressed in clothes older than both his children combined.
Anthony walked into *Advize Accounting*, his black briefcase swinging without care. And later he would wonder - why oh why did my sandwich lose its top?
'Is that him?' A small voice whispered.
'Shhh.' Glenda from sales crouched beside her daughter and pressed a finger to her lips.
Anthony smiled at them both and continued to reception.
'Samatha don't!' Glenda called out.
A small hand tugged at the back of Anothy's suit jacket. He stopped, turned and faced the child. She looked up at him with wide, saucer eyes and was momentarily lost for words.
'I'm so sorry.' Glenda said and lifted little Samantha into her arms.
'It's fine. She's curious.' Anthony said and tapped Sam lightly on the nose.
'Are yoo really a hooman calculator?' Sam said.
'In a way,' Anthony lifted the little girl's finger and guided it to his nose. 'pretend it's a button!'
Samatha giggled and squashed his nose. She yanked her hand back.
'Now tell me some numbers.'
'Oh, she doesn't know any numbers.' Glenda said.
'I doo!' Samatha kicked in her mum's arms and leant across to tap Anthony's nose. With each press of his nose, Anthony let out *BEEPs* and *BOOPs*.
'One,' Samatha said. 'Free, foor, seffen.'
Anthony vibrated his throat in a computing rumble. And then, like a robot, he announced the answer. 'Three-point-seven-five.’
Samatha compressed her, already small, features and looked at Glenda. 'He's right.' Glenda said.
'But how do you knooow?' Samatha pressed.
'Because Anthony isn't wrong about these things.'
'Your mum is right,' Anthony said. 'remember? I'm the *hooman* calculator.'
Glenda leant across and whispered to Anthony. 'Thanks for playing along. She doesn't know what averages are.'
Glenda was right. Little Samantha had no clue what Anthony had done with the numbers, yet, admiration twinkled in her eyes. To her, the man in the suit was a superhero of numbers, and perhaps it was her lack of understanding that made her awestruck or perhaps it was the man's charm.
'One more! One more!' Samatha pleaded.
Glenda gave Antony an apologetic look, but he was smiling and allowed a repeat demonstration. This time, Samatha shouted numbers until her cheeks were red.
'Five.' Anothy said.
Samatha turned to her mother, who nodded and then switched back to Anthony with mild annoyance. 'I thot yoor head would esplode.' Samatha said.
'Samatha!' Glenda said and whisked her daughter away.
Anthony couldn't help but laugh and waved at the flailing little girl. A strange feeling overcame Anthony Vander Ghal. It felt weird, like a slow trickle of honey. He had a feeling that for the first time, his day would be above average.
---
/r/WrittenThought | 2018-10-24T07:42:20 | 2018-10-24T07:20:17 | 850 | 177 |
[WP] On one hand, you're average at everything. On the other hand, you're average at EVERYTHING. | Who am I? I could tell you my real name, but you won’t remember it. It’s an average name, easily forgotten. I could even describe myself, but nothing about me will stand out. I’m average build, of average height, hell I even have average skin tone and hair color. Want a picture? Run a composite image of every person, and there you go.
For my own amusement, I tend to go by Aver Joe. Or, my personal favorite, Jack Avalti, because I’m a master of none. I’m a perfectly ordinary, nondescript, average person with a not so ordinary, nondescript, average skill set. I can do anything, just not well. I can fly a plane, but my record isn’t perfect. I can build a house, as long as it has nothing fancy. I can paint, but nobody wants average work. I can do any career, any job, but I can’t ever excel at it.
How did I end up like this? Now that’s the million-dollar question. I think my mother was cursed. Or maybe my parents made a deal with the devil, and this was his stipulation. Or perhaps I was born at the exact moment everything in the universe was perfectly balanced. Fuck if I know how it happened, I just know that it did. That’s fine, because I found my niche.
You see, I am the perfect chameleon, always in the background. No one remembers my face, my demeanor, or even my presence. I didn’t last in the regular, white world. My work was always ordinary and I never made an impression on my bosses. I never could progress, I would always be passed up for promotion. So, I took my chances in the secret, black world that existed beyond the normal one. My skills led me to one perfect job. Assassin.
But how can you be a successful assassin if you miss half the time? You must be thinking. And you would be correct. I couldn’t be your typical assassin, who uses guns, knives or poisons because I would miss most of the time. But, I’m not a typical assassin. I play the long game. Ever hear of the Law of Averages? It means that eventually, I will succeed.
I first stalk my target, becoming their coworker, their boss, or their subordinate. That part is easy, because it doesn’t matter what job my target has, I know I can do the same work passably well. Then, I strike. My target begins to suffer bad luck. A railing becomes unhinged when they use it, causing a nasty fall down the stairs. Or, their car suffers some catastrophic problem on the way home. Maybe their house has a gas leak. It doesn’t have to succeed the first time. Hell, it almost never works immediately. But I will continue to stalk them, seamlessly filling any role, until their bad luck finally ends.
Experience any bad luck recently? Strange things keep happening, and you don’t know why? Look around, and you might see me. I’m the guy sitting there, in the grey suit, with a coffee. Or maybe I’m the janitor you just walked by. Just remember, your bad luck will run out. | My best friend once called me and told me how jealous he was of my talents. What talents? I could never really put my finger on it if they existed, and I spent years trying to see what he saw. Maybe he meant the time I used to play in a band. We called ourselves, “We Ate the Fish”. Looking back that was a stupid band name.
And I’m the one who came up with it…
I was the lead singer in the band, and I also played the rhythm guitar. But between work and the band it was tough. Not to mention our dedicated practicing space was a storage unit. The band didn't last long, it ended after practice on a hot summer day. Sweat was running down all our faces and man-musk burning my nose hairs. The lead guitars packed up and said, “I can’t do this anymore guys.”
I take no offense he said ‘guys’, but come on…
I’m a girl, he could have gave me some credit.
After that, he left, and so did everyone else. A couple of days later though, I saw him on his social media page jamming out with a new band in the same storage unit as the old one. It was an entirely new group of people, so I guess… he just decided to abandon us.
I’m not mad though.
But fuck you too, dude.
Though listening to our bands original songs, I could say they were average at best.
I doubt the band is what my bestie was talking about. Maybe he meant that time I was part of this TCG team. I hate Trading Card Games, but I was a huge fan of the show the card game was based on. So I played it. I got called a nerd often for it. Our team participated in many of the regional tournaments and the team captain was amazing at the game. Not to mention she was just as much a fan of the show as I was.
During one of the Spring regionals, she snapped on me. I had been building my decks similar to the tv show decks and that didn’t sit well with her when she found out. We were outside of the tournament participant entrance, and she pulled me to the side where people typically smoke at. You could tell because of all the cigarette buds sticking out of the ashtray on top the trash can.
“Are You F-ing kidding me? You’re using a F-ing vanilla TV deck!” She said, trying hard not to be vulgar. Yet how often she uses ‘F-ing’, she might as well just say the word.
“I’ve always been using an F-ing… I mean, a vanilla TV deck.” Is what I said.
She rolled her eyes, then pushed me. I stumbled, bumped into the trash can, and fell over with it. I could feel everyone’s eyes turning to look at me as I crashed. However, they either entered the building or kept talking in their little groups. No one cared to help. But whatever. The captain already went inside, leaving me to clean up the mess. I had ash in my hair, under my finger nails, and the stench of garbage lingering with me everywhere.
I didn’t let it get to me, this was pretty much an average day for me.
Besides being bullied.
More so my day just being garbage.
After a couple of matches, I placed third in the tournament using my “vanilla TV deck” while the team captain, well… she lost in her first match of the tournament. Not going to brag about placing third though, I still didn’t get picked to go to Nationals and our team started going through some changes so I left.
Never to play card games again.
I don’t do much else except cooking, cleaning, drawing, writing, making music, reading, making cosplay, playing video games, playing badminton, soccer, baseball, golf, and talking with animals. But I’m only average at best in all of those things. I don’t see what my friend sees in me…
I really don't. | 2018-10-24T08:42:32 | 2018-10-24T07:46:45 | 28 | 11 |
[WP] The worst part about being shot in the head? The headache. The second worst part? Explaining to everyone why you can't die... | AH! You'd think after fighting through 27 wars in 2000 years, I'd be used to pain, but no. The bullet richochets off something important as I drop.
The mugger, just some dumb kid trying to feed his family looks terrified. I can tell this is the first time he's shot someone. The store owner freezes, hand already reaching for the button.
Motor functions return first. I stand slowly. I raise my hands and smile as the bullet wounds closes.
"<Calm down everyone!>" I demand, then wince. Ancient Hebrew. Of course it is. I always defect back to my original language when wounded.
"How.......how are you still alive?" The kid asks, dropping the gun in shock.
I sigh. "It's a long story, that began on a Friday, on the road to Calvary. Let's just say, I chose the wrong prisoner to mock...."
| A bang shook the restaurant while I fell backwards out of my chair. I had figured it would go this way, my being so far behind on the money I owe and all. Guess he had to make an example if me, but damn I never figured the shark would have a .44 tucked in that pinstripe suit of his. Tacky piece of shit even had it gold plated with pearl grips, to each their own I guess.
The gunpowder residue ruined my food and the splitting migraine ruined my night. I wonder if he knows that. Well, I guess I better pick myself, my blood, and the bits of my brain off the floor. Fuck his chair and the walls. Im going home for an excedrin. He really got excited when I stood back up, painced and all. Started spouting "Im sorry! dont hurt me! how can you still be alive"! I had to explain to him and everyone in the restraunt tonight that I may as well be dead, for all they know I am and the shellfish got to their brains. I even told them they'd never see me agian. Even joked that I was death incarnate and that the piss poor excuse for a shark just took 20 of his life. Had to change my ID after that.
I went home and took my excedrin, put the gauze around my head for the third time this month and took a nice well deserved nap after being shot and all, planned on calling my guy about the ID change after. I've never gotten around to it though. | 2018-11-25T22:13:29 | 2018-11-25T20:14:26 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] The Devil is trying to trick you into signing a contract for your soul. The thing is, he's already got your soul...he's trying to get you to take it back. | Lucifer was pacing now. He was clearly agitated and it was only getting worse. He just didn't have the time for this nonsense. No one had EVER rejected this offer and now here he was 3 days into negotiations with this clown and he was getting nowhere. It was absolutely infuriating. He figured this must be how Yahweh felt prior to the falling. But whatever.
&#x200B;
"Look. Clearly you're not grasping this", said Lucifer. "I'm trying to return this to you. It costs you nothing at all to accept. What's the hold up?"
&#x200B;
Frank eased himself back into his chair, the springs creaking slightly as he leaned back. "Lucy. Dude. I keep telling you. It isn't mine to accept."
&#x200B;
"But I ..."
&#x200B;
Frank cut him off. "Lucy, I've tried to explain this to you for 3 days. It isn't mine. I'm a ginger." | "Those are terrible things you said about my grandma's cooking," my secretary said yesterday.
*Sorry. I take it back.* I want to say it, but I know she is possessed. If I say those words out loud, he wins. The best bet is to either double down or deflect.
"I never said anything about your grandma. I don't even know her. She's not important." I didn't want to hurt Janice any more. "You're fired!"
He has my soul. I gave it to him, in exchange for my success. Unfortunately, if my soul is returned to my old and broken down body, I will die on the spot.
I tend to blurt out whatever is on my mind at the moment. Not having a soul makes one do that. Sometimes I know it is wrong, even if I don't feel anything. But I can't take my words back. But I can pretend I never said it and ignore the consequences.
It's a curse, that makes me successful, but unlucky. Multiple businesses, but many of them fall apart because I can't take back the stupid deals I made. Many employees I had to fire because I can't take back the bad things I inadvertently said to them. Relationships that break down because I can't take back hurtful words.
Maybe that is why I ramble. If I don't end a sentence before starting another one, I don't have to take back the things I said. I can always pretend I meant to say something else, but was cut off or distracted. And it worked for me.
But he is always watching, always listening. I have wanted to take back so many things. And now that I declared my candidacy never really expecting that I would win, I can't take that back as well. | 2019-01-12T00:44:33 | 2019-01-11T23:04:06 | 79 | 50 |
[WP] The current rulers of the galaxy exert their dominance by showing showing new races a glimpse of their terrifying nature inevitably either driving the unfortunate victims mad or causing them to retreat in fear. It does not work on humans however, they are used to it | Whenever our people find new life in the galaxy, by tradition, we show them our true forms. Every member of our species is taught this. It is perhaps our strongest weapon, such that those who oppose us must use machines without fear or mind to fight our military might. This combined with our military has served our people for millennia, either breaking new civilizations's minds such that the population dies out from psychotic breaks, or forcing them into instinctive terror as their minds struggle with even comprehending our appearances.
This world would have been no different. It's dominant species was weak looking by galactic standards. Nearly any of our billions of slave cast species would be able to conquer this new species. To start, this new discovery hadn't even learned how to leave their own solar system yet.
And yet, when we sent our delegates, our representatives to each of their divided leaders, and they revealed their true forms, we were not met with fear or insanity. Oh, there were some who reacted as expected, but it was not on a species scale, or even societal.
But by and large, this species... Their reaction to us was amusement, calling us strange names like Pennywise, Galactus, Gozira, King Kidora or Cthulu, to name a few. More researh would have been done in regard to these terms and their meaning.
But my Supreme Leaders, though they reacted at first in amusement, when they comprehended why our empire's representatives were there, of what we were telling them, their attitude did change. But while there were perhaps more fear than at first, most of it was hostility.
They are a mad species, is perhaps the best way I can summarize them. The world over, they killed or captured every one of our empire's representatives. Those captured have been interrogated and tortured, many to death, and even the dead were not left alone, each being butchered open as this new species sought to learn of us, of our weaknesses with an alarming level of pragmatic and brutal efficiency.
I sent down ships to regain control while harvesting their media streams to learn about this species, and all I learned is we are not their first visitors. We are not their first horrors, and we are not their worst nightmares. They have found ways to kill the bioweapons of the Engineers, and know the best ways to face the tribesmen of the Hunters. They know the monsters that can be found throughout the galaxy and beyond, and yet they do not fear us, have not yet left their system.
That is far from the worst, my Supreme Leaders.
This mad species destroyed every ship I had ordered down. Even the five battleships, taken out by the insanity we know as splitting an atom. Even now, they are dissecting those wrecks just as they dissected our empire's representatives.
But I was wrong. *We* were wrong.
We *are* their first visitors. They have never encountered another planet's species. They have not built up weapons of devastation to defend against invaders.
All those records we spent hours going over that involved another species, invaders, were fake. Meant for entertainment, fabricated without any true knowledge of actual existence. They concieved the idea of threats and how to kill them, for fun.
No, every weapon that has been used against us, even the Atomic Terror... They built it all for one purpose, to fight against the most dangerous thing they knew: each other. The leaders divided would at times declare war between themselves, sometimes uniting to have wars that spanned their whole world, twice in fact for this scale of conflict. Everything has been for killing their own kind as the biggest threat.
And we just gave them a new target that they have now unified against.
My Supreme Leaders, on discovering the Planet Dirt, third satellite of their star, labeled Star, we have welcomed a courtship with death and madness, for unless our forces here can wipe them out now, I have every belief that this mad species will leave their solar system to come hunting for us.
I pray to our Grace, the Eldest Swirl, that this is not my last transmission, but if it is, then I have failed, and the humans are coming for you.
Admiral Xzijnoa, of the Imperial Expansion Navy's third fleet, signing off.
Edit 1: First ever silver, thank you! (1.2) And now first gold too! Wow!
Edit 2: I wasn't even aware there was a Platinum award, but someone out there thought this was good enough for one; I'm kinda blown away with how much attention my submission is getting considering some of the other ones here are excellent as well. | The Zoroites arrived on the Planet Earth with their grand armada. On board the flagship, The Emperor of the Galaxy had prepared Himself for the descent to Earth. He had recently acquired the star system of Sol, which was previously under the domain of the Humans. He reduced the Humans' dominion to their planet and its' single moon to further repress them further. This tactic had worked thus far in subduing many races across the galaxy, especially when He dominated them further by making public displays of cruelty in the form of tortures, executions, and genocides.
But those measures were only reserved for those who dared challenge His authority. For most of the time, The Emperor need only to assert His dominance through overwhelming invasion, a victory parade on the home planet or capital of the conquered, and maybe breaking the strongest warrior/leader of the conquered. When done right, rebellion would not even occur in the minds of the conquered races.
However, as the Emperor's armada descended towards the city of New York – where the UN's HQ was located and Earth leaders were gathered – He saw that the citizens were not out there in droves welcoming his imperial procession. Instead, only some men in uniformed black jacket were there to greet the Supreme Ruler of the Galaxy.
Furious, He signaled to the advanced party to investigate what had happened. He thought that maybe the Humans were too scared to even see His fear-inducing presence. Maybe the Humans had stayed at their homes, holed up in case the invaders had decided to murder or enslave them all.
As The Emperor mused at the notion of fleeing inferior beings, scared for their lives, The flagship had landed just in front of the UN HQ building. The flagship itself was larger than the building, displaying the grandeur of His Power and Greatness. The doors opened before Him, the trumpets greeted His presence, His soldiers stood at the ready in perfect posture, and He himself was dressed in the way befitting a Great Ruler such as Himself. He stood 3-meters-tall, way taller than any of the Humans genuflecting before him. He took pity at them, finally understanding the disparity between His kind and their kind.
"Humans! His Grace, the Emperor of the Galaxy, Breaker of Worlds, Conqueror of the Masses, would like to inquire as to the rest of your people!" a slightly shorter figure, clad in shiny armour announced, whilst standing slightly in front of The Emperor. This was done, as to put distance between the ruler and the ruled.
A human representative raised his head and answered, "Y-Your Grace! We have been sent by our leaders and people to properly greet you, so–"
The Emperor raised his hand to stop the human. He then nodded to his aide who continued, "Yes, we understand that. But His Grace wondered if the lack of people present at the moment would indicate their fear or rather their insubordination..?"
"N-No, Your Grace! We have tried, to our best ability to invite more citizens to attend to Your Grace's arrival," the humans who were still on their knees responded in unison, "however, as you could see not a lot of people decided to attend."
"Why is that, then?"
"W-Well... It could be said... t-that the citizens opted to stay at home, maybe they are watching the procession from their televisions or social media," another human representative said.
Unsatisfied, the Emperor ordered some of His generals to 'punish' the humans' lack of respect shown. The generals then moved into their respective fleets and deployed the necessary measures to enact 'phase 2 of the Earth's subjugation' – amounting to public displays of violence. The armies and ships raced across the world to inflict damages, be it human lives, infrastructures, or even the natural environment, all were subjected to His will. His will demanded death and destruction, as such those things were brought upon the citizens of Earth, albeit in the least amount as he would like to keep many of the citizens still alive and resources available for productivity reasons.
After days of rampaging, The Emperor observed that the humans were all still apathetically staying within their homes. He wondered if maybe the damage he had done were insufficient. So he ordered even more death and destruction on Earth. He also rounded up several leaders and had them executed publicly for all to see, for all to weep and fall into despair to.
Weeks had passed, yet still nothing changed. As He had about enough of the humans' lack of reaction, He was about to order the humans to be wiped out en masse when he received reports from His aides. After various methods were used, they had finally concluded that the humans were indeed staying within their homes. The humans did so, not out of fear or despair. No, the humans did so because they were too bored at the destruction, intimidation, and even fear tactics that the Emperor had employed in his attempt to subjugate Earth. He was stunned at the rather unexpected report.
He wondered, if fear was not working against the humans... maybe doing the exact opposite of that could yield result? He consulted his aides to weigh in on the thought.
"Let us use unorthodox methods against unorthodox sorts of creatures, shall we?" | 2019-06-11T09:37:21 | 2019-06-11T08:18:28 | 1,501 | 159 |
[WP] In your world, magic is wielded by astrologists who form pacts with distant stars. Every star grants a unique power. Upon forming a pact with a star, you gain a glimpse of its worlds and your soul will be pulled to one when your pact ends. You are the first to form a pact with a black hole. | "It is simply a natural progression."
She said it so matter of factly that I couldn't find it within me to argue. And yet my entire understanding of the laws of magic, of the universe, were imploding all around me.
"But you're dead. How...how can we forge a pact if you're dead?" A part of me, perhaps the rational part, was terrified of the answer she would give. Another was nearly paralyzed with anticipation.
The elders, my mother and father among them, cautioned us not to talk to the old stars. That they were too set in their ways and would demand far more than they would ever give. Maybe that logic is why they never talked about communicating with what used to be stars.
"Dying is not the destiny of a star, my little mortal. Only you and your kind are granted such peace. We are eternal. Our bodies may change but it is only so that we may become more powerful. When I was newly forged, I made a pact with one of your kind. A millennium of millennias ago. I offered her a sliver of my power and she went on to rule the lands. What I can offer you now, a sliver still, would be enough to rule everything."
My mouth was dry and my eyes were itching. It was cold atop the mountain but the freezing temperatures were a distant thought, as if a clouded memory of a sleepless winter night were bubbling just below the surface of consciousness. Had my heart always thundered like this in my chest?
"What...what will you ask of me?"
I don't know why I asked that question. Even newly born stars had schemes and motivations far beyond human conception. Surely one that was dead, or at least so ancient as to be believed to be dead, would be that much more obscure.
"I will use you when the time comes. As humans wage war against one another, so do we from time to time. I might some day wish to hold dominion over the other celestials. You will help me in that endeavor."
I couldn't feel my legs any more. Had it always been this cold? My arms felt as if thousands of tiny knives were slowly driving themselves through my flesh. Was I still breathing?
"Can you show me what will happen?" I wheezed the question, finding it harder and harder to breath. She was quiet for a long time.
"Very well."
Light exploded behind my eyes. I soared over the lands as if on the wings of a magnificent bird. Below me, people made pilgrimage to pay homage to their liege. In the distance, a great stepped palace rose over the land, casting shadows in all directions. As we drew closer, I saw myself sitting on a gilded throne with scepter in hand. All bowed before me.
A flash of light caused me to look upward toward Sol, the forbidden star. It burned brighter than I had ever known it to. And yet it felt wrong. It was as if the star were being pulled apart slowly and steadily. When my eyes adjusted I could see her far beyond Sol. I could make out her streams of immense power, lashing at everything around her and drawing it in. She would consume it all.
I found myself gasping, greedily sucking in air as if I had been submerged for too long. My head cleared and the night sky came back into focus. The stars twinkled, millions and millions of lives peacefully drifting across the cosmos. And there she sat. Placidly. Innocently.
"Do you accept my offer?"
"I do, Charybdis." | Chaos, that was what it was. Bloodshed and devastation. But it hadn't always been that way; the first few times that people had been blessed by the stars, we had celebrated. The powers that the Heavens had distilled upon us were unconditional, not bound by the same rules and limits as those of the Mages.
We developed all sorts of abilities—flight, weather manipulation, petrification by eye contact—you name it. By tethering your soul to a star, you claimed its power, and to ensure that no two people shared the same power, no two people could share the same star. It was a glorious thing. People all over the world started Tethering, and developing magic of their own.
Of course, so did I. I was young and naive, hopeful and excitable. The moment I turned 22, I went out in my backyard and threw my head to the sky. Countless stars dotted the night sky, and thousands were already Tethered. We didn't know how we knew, we just *did*. It was my first and only chance to Tether, and I wanted it to be special, so I wanted the star to be special.
I must have spent hours raking the sky for what I thought was a worthy star, and finally, I found it. That was when it all went wrong. I did as they told us to do: pray to the star, form a connection. And it worked. I felt it happen. I *saw* it happen.
The tells weren't usually very distinctive, but this tell, definitely was. The star began to grow brighter, and larger in the sky. I could see people in my neighbourhood coming out to gawk at it. Then other stars began to disappear—I still don't know what happened to the people whose souls were tethered to them, and truth be told, I don't want to.
The star continued to grow, which made even more stars disappear, and then finally, it went black. It was no longer a bright mass of burning gas, it was an enormous rip in the fabric of space—a black hole.
People had noticed me doing my Tethering that night, and began to question whether I'd done something to the star. Impossible of course, but when you're scared you'll think anything. Soon after the police were involved, and then the Mages came. Their magic told them that the star was corrupted, and that it was possible for others to be corrupted as well. They didn't know how that would affect the Starborn—those who had Tethered—but they didn't want to find out. They demanded that all Starborn be handed over, and that people stopped Tethering. Naturally, we refused. The Mages were jealous, we had said, bitter. And so the war began.
For seven years we've warred, and it was all my fault....
"Luke? Luke!" a voice hissed in my ear, tearing me from my thoughts.
"What?" I said, confused. Then I saw the face staring down at me. "Oh, Kenny." Kenny was an old man, with several feet of bushy grey hair and a matching beard. His eyes were blue, and held a hint of insanity—well, slightly more that a hint. He was stocky for his age, and smiled quite often, despite losing so much in the war. "What is it, Ken?"
"Ariya an' Tarif are back. They got something," he said, grinning slyly.
I pushed myself off of the ground, not bothering to brush off—what was the point? My clothes were aged and torn, and looked as though they had been washed in dirt. I followed Kenny through the long, narrow corridor that lead to our base of operations, which was really just an old, demolished high school.
He lead me into what was left of the Chemistry lab, where I found the entire group—minus those who were keeping watch—standing in a circle.
"Go on," Kenny urged me. They made a slight part in the circle to admit me, and I saw another old man, bound in chains. He was sturdy like Kenny, and he wore a brown cloak, with a drawing of the planet on his chest.
"An Earth Mage," I said contemptuously. | 2020-02-21T04:27:44 | 2020-02-21T04:09:32 | 252 | 16 |
[WP]Humans are the only race capable of creating fiction. The galactic community has never contacted Earth out of fear for our Death Stars and our frightening “history”. Until now. The two most powerful space civilizations have come to earth asking us to arbitrate a dispute and enforce the outcome. | They say that no man has ever won a war alone. They say the end of each life is the death of a thousand stories, forever untold.
We did our best to prepare. The skies, we knew, would be filled with levin and gale and puissance. The seas, tumultuous with thrashing bodies competing for territory and food. The cities? The cities contained more violence than anything else, a thousand generations of apocalypse giving rise to ever-greater heroes... and villains.
The first to contact us was Zeus. Unlike anything we'd heard, this was no decadent, horny, lightning god. This was a ship! Perhaps the humans had merely thought that it ruled the sky and cast lightning bolts. As chieftain of the gods, it must be in charge of the local flight. It, and Hades and Poseidon, were merely artifacts from, presumably, before one-or-another apocalypse. Clearly it couldn't hold an ionization cannon capable of reaching ground.
So we opened communication, declared ourselves as a properly-mandated Kirtier fleet, and asked for diplomatic channels to be opened.
The next several whiles were a blur, mostly, of communicating the same basic message in various languages to various officials. Then doing it again, for the politicians... and the diplomats... and the leadership...
We got lucky. We were smuggled a data drop by one of their better conversationalists, explaining "humor". Apparently, by subverting expectations, one can trigger a positive emotional response. Failure to do so can portray a sinister "vibe". But when we tried that, it did not work as anticipated. Apparently, failure to meet contracts on time (or, more often, early. We were yet naïve enough not to know the context) was not "humor", it was "lying". We asked to know what lying is.
Lying is the deliberate utterance of a falsehood, but with many other nuances as well. So, we tried to always be honest. We made agreements and contracts with absurdly low risks of failure-to-complete. Now we were being ride for some other reason.
Time had continued to pass. One of us, some engineer, had been gifted a copy of 1984 by one of hir human counterparts. When asked about the book, my engineer expressed hir regret that such a thing could happen. The human was, I am told, confused. Such things never HAD happened.
SUCH THINGS NEVER HAD HAPPENED.
Much of human literature, and nearly all of its visual art, from painting to documentary, is whole or part "fiction". These things can, and CONSTANTLY do, tell stories which never happened. They can not only think of things wholly unique, but prize such "creativity" as a virtue. I think we cannot let them join us, but... it is worse.
The have this edict, I am told. The 34th Rule. It, and it alone, would be worth staying away... | Two different unidentified spacecrafts landed at DeBell Golf Club, the military was waiting already, a message had been heard through the earth airwaves: we need judge Atkins.
As the ethereal figures descended their ships, the troops set prepared for a confrontation: an eclectic group of space forces, police and military. Among them, a rather nervous and wiry figure standing next to commander Cothern, looked like she was going to pass out at any minute: Technical Sergeant Ying was completely out of her element.
No one could really describe the figures: were they humanoid among all that smoke? Do they have a body at all? What did they want? Who was Judge Atkins?
- Hello fellow **økæyikkēg** dwellers, we have travelled long and far looking for your advice: We need Judge Atkins to hear our case! pleaded one of the figures, with a slight green colour to it.
Commander Cothern step front: "You have violated prohibited airspace, you cannot make demands, give us a reason not to blow you out".
- We come in peace, no arms or weapons accompany us. But please, we need your help figuring something out, please hear us out! asked the other figure, it had a deeper voice.
Sergeant Ying noticed something curious on the voice of both extraterrestrials: they sounded a bit old-fashioned, they had some of that transatlantic tang to their speech. They were clearly in distress, this last one creature have been crying, she could be certain of that much.
- We have received your tales and history through the space dust. Our government doesn't know we are here, it had been decided long ago not to contact you: they were afraid you would decimate us like you have done to Alderaan or those planets in the Hosnian system. They fear the Emperor would want to annex us next or destroy us too, we are but a humble space village on the skirts of *økæyikkēg*... But something that never happened before to our people has happened to the both of us and now require your advice, we look for Judge Atkins, continued the greenish figure, floating slightly from the ground.
Commander Cothern was speechless... Did they actually have mentioned Star Wars crap in their little speech? "I repeat again, you have violated prohibited airspace, you are to be taken into custody and... ", he couldn't continue, was almost hysterical.
- Our names are œk and āk, we have been married for three years, we have an offspring, ùl. Our people have always separated after the offspring leaves home, but that won't happen until next cycle and we need help figuring out ùl, we need judge Atkins, said the figure with the deep voice, not taking notice on Cothern.
A divorce, they came through the cosmos for advice on a divorce?
"Divorce?" mumbled Cothern... "Who is judge Atkins?".
But then everything clicked in the mind of sergeant Ying: they weren't interested in any divorce settlement, they had that covered alright. Custody, this was a custody battle...
" sir, This is not about a divorce" said her in a quiet voice.
" what are you talking about " barked him in response.
" They want help with their child, figuring out custody" replied her in a whisper.
" A custody battle? Who's this Judge Atkins they keep talking about?" Asked Commander Cothern clearly annoyed.
" They have been watching Kramer vs Kramer" not being able to stop grinning with relief and the ridiculousness of the situation. | 2020-03-16T22:38:07 | 2020-03-16T18:48:38 | 32 | 21 |
[WP] A fortune teller foretold that twins would be born where one was evil and the other was good. A year later, a woman gave birth to a boy with horns and bat wings, and a girl with angel wings and a halo. The boy was sent away, while she and her husband raised the girl. They kept the wrong one. | As the prophecy foretold, the child of destiny rose to power! Not as a Dark Lord, but a queen, not dark but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Tempestuous as the sea, and stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love her and despair!
She was the the undisputed ruler of the Empire of Light, the Shield against the Darkness, countless nobles, knights, lords and ladies flocked to her banner and pledged themselves to her, the supreme ruler who guarded them against corruption and evil! Under her the Empire thrived, the stockrooms of her subjects and underlings overflowed with food and wine, and all those who dared to oppose her were put to the sword! For to stand against the embodiment of the light itself was the greatest heresy!
Of her bother, none spoke, but it was known he lived among the poor and downtrodden for years before, during, and after his sisters rise to power, that he was a vagabond, a pariah, a thing of ill repute who would dare to spit in the face of his betters, for if he was not some cast out creature why would he be born with such deformities?
Yet.... despite the hatred from all those around him, when the Men at Arms came to take away those who were deemed unfit to live in the Queen of Lights domain he was the first to stand up to them, while others cowered he stood firm in defence of those he did not know nor owe and debt to, he did it not to win favour, but because it was *right*.
From that day tales started to circulate the Empire, that the devil boy was leading an army of peasants who would dare go against the divinely mandated order, they not only fought to protect the oppressed from tyranny, but preached their message to any that would listen, one of the unity of the workers, an end to rule of kings and queens and it to be replaced with a dictatorship of the proletariat!
The message spread like a tilde wave, workers laid down their tools, those able bodied joined bands the growing armies of the resistance, to the shock of man even some knights broke their oaths to the Queen and joined the "army of darkness" that now marched on the cities and forts of the Empire.
All the while, the Queens message never changed "find the traitors, burn them alive".
Even within her inner circle, it started to be said that while born with the appearance of an angel, she in fact possessed no soul... | The mother was shocked. "The signs couldn't be that blunt, can it?" She looked at her husband who was looking at their children as if he wanted to eat them. She felt quite scared that something would happen to her baby.
"The Fates are helping us, Sandra. What more could you want?" He bellowed. "The prophecy came true, our family is blessed!" He looked at the menacing horned creature who was his son.
" He" the husband gestured to his son. "Is a disgrace." The husband then threw the baby out of the window of the tower much to the wailing and sobbing of his wife. Due to her weakness, she couldn't do much but hold on tight to her beautiful daughter. Hoping that her husbands action were right.
A few years past and the baby girl still retained her beauty as she grew. So much so that the parents were blindsided by her cruelness. She would constantly step on harmless animals and picked on anyone she thought wasn't 'cool'. She was named Angel for her angelic beauty and people praised her. They should be. After all, she was going to save them one day.
Unbeknownst to the family, the baby boy was alive. He flapped his little wings and landed on the ground safely but not soundly. He was found by old women who treated his scars and wounds. They didn't know who the parents of this boy was so they raised him as their own He too grew up to be a handsome lad. Well, as handsome as a demon could be with the horns and fangs....
One fateful day, a witch visited the town and inflicted a lot of pain. Angel's mother was one of the victims and unforfunately, she didn't survive. Everyone called out Angel's name as they knew of the prophecy.
"Angel, Angel! Help us!"
But she never showed herself. Instead a winged demon who looked very much like Angel stepped up. He was dressed in commoners clothes but he had a long sword which he unsheathe. He had on a battle stance as if he was preparing to charge.
"Angel is there." The demon pointed behind the witch. She was looking in glee at the people in pain and inflicted some herself. She was enjoying it and made her feelings crystal clear.
Angel's father looked in disgust at his daughter and wished he hadn't threw his son out of that tower. He looked at the demon and did a double take. He knew those horns anywhere as it was the last thing he saw before his child plummeted to the ground.
"My son, you are alive.." he exclaimed as the demon charged to the witch. But not before he stopped mid running and faced this man who claimed to be his so called father. The man who left him to rot. This heartless man who threw him to the ground. The memory of his mother sobbing and his fathers cruel face will forever be etched in his mind despite it being 15 years ago.
"No father would abandon his son. You're not my father."
And the last thing he saw was the mans shocked face. | 2020-05-07T08:33:44 | 2020-05-07T08:12:21 | 98 | 68 |
[WP] A fortune teller foretold that twins would be born where one was evil and the other was good. A year later, a woman gave birth to a boy with horns and bat wings, and a girl with angel wings and a halo. The boy was sent away, while she and her husband raised the girl. They kept the wrong one. | As the prophecy foretold, the child of destiny rose to power! Not as a Dark Lord, but a queen, not dark but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Tempestuous as the sea, and stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love her and despair!
She was the the undisputed ruler of the Empire of Light, the Shield against the Darkness, countless nobles, knights, lords and ladies flocked to her banner and pledged themselves to her, the supreme ruler who guarded them against corruption and evil! Under her the Empire thrived, the stockrooms of her subjects and underlings overflowed with food and wine, and all those who dared to oppose her were put to the sword! For to stand against the embodiment of the light itself was the greatest heresy!
Of her bother, none spoke, but it was known he lived among the poor and downtrodden for years before, during, and after his sisters rise to power, that he was a vagabond, a pariah, a thing of ill repute who would dare to spit in the face of his betters, for if he was not some cast out creature why would he be born with such deformities?
Yet.... despite the hatred from all those around him, when the Men at Arms came to take away those who were deemed unfit to live in the Queen of Lights domain he was the first to stand up to them, while others cowered he stood firm in defence of those he did not know nor owe and debt to, he did it not to win favour, but because it was *right*.
From that day tales started to circulate the Empire, that the devil boy was leading an army of peasants who would dare go against the divinely mandated order, they not only fought to protect the oppressed from tyranny, but preached their message to any that would listen, one of the unity of the workers, an end to rule of kings and queens and it to be replaced with a dictatorship of the proletariat!
The message spread like a tilde wave, workers laid down their tools, those able bodied joined bands the growing armies of the resistance, to the shock of man even some knights broke their oaths to the Queen and joined the "army of darkness" that now marched on the cities and forts of the Empire.
All the while, the Queens message never changed "find the traitors, burn them alive".
Even within her inner circle, it started to be said that while born with the appearance of an angel, she in fact possessed no soul... | Angela was scared for the first time in her life. Her parents, now quietly standing in the corner of her room, had hidden from her the giant part of her life.
She has a brother.
"How could you do this!" She screamed, her anglic wings now scruffed " Do you know what that means? That boy, now man can be as strong as me! That means he is a threat to a balance itself!"
"You can't be sure !" her mother plead. She was afraid of her. Since childhood, her daughter was surraunded by love and praise. She should stop the Empire Church from taking her to the Saint Monastery. How could she not see that this people would turn her little girl into .... that.
"Don't you dare say anymore excuses! What else had you hidden from me? That I'm adopted? That you kidnapped me from my parents? Who are they? " Said Angela now her voice more and more spunding like a vouce of priest during ceremony.
"You are our child! And don't worry! Your brother was send so far away. He may not even know you even exist! Not to mention the prophecy!"
"Where did you took him?" Angela asked her father. As always his face was showing no emotion, but now he was more pale than usual. The guilt was cracking his face. He signed the pact. He couldn't tell her.
"I asked foreign merchant to take him as payment for my debts." He answered.
"Do you know what would happen, if that would see a light of day? That would turn apart everything the Empire stands by! A child trader! Guards! " She shouts while pointing her finger at her father.
"What is it, Your Angelic Might?" A voice called.
" Take them away from me! I do not want to be associated with this heretics!" She ordered while turning her back on them. Her parents left with guards. Meanwhile, the chamber entered, sir Sebastian, her personall confesioner and advisor send by Empire Church to aid her in troubling times such as this one.
"We need to find him!" she snarled.
"I think that would be much easier than it seems." He answered
"How!? We don't know where he was send. He can be everywhere?"
Sabastian handed her daily newspaper. On the front page was written in large letters:
IT IS A WAR. LARGE ARMIES OF THE UNITED TRIBES OF WESTERN PLAINS GATHER ON THE BORDER OF OUR BELOVED EMPIRE. OUR BELOVED ANGEL PROTECTS!
"What does it has in common with my brother?"
"Read further" Sebastian followed
She started reading further. Her eyes getting larger every second. She throwed the paper to the ground and left the chamber, Sebastian right behind her. In her memory was burned the last sentences of this article:
"The rumors says that, the triebs are acompanied by the party of the Black Company lead by legendary commander known as the Horned One. His role in this war is currently uknown, our sources speculate that this war with him in its theatre, will be bloody. ALL HAIL THE ANGEL" | 2020-05-07T08:33:44 | 2020-05-07T08:30:59 | 98 | 33 |
[WP] You’re in the mafia and the boss has ordered you to kill your girlfriend to show your loyalty. You look around the room and see the pictures only to find out you’re dating the mafia boss’s daughter. | "You sure about this boss?"
Missy Missus, carefully put down her pipe and stared at me with cold gray eyes. "You wanna ask that again kiddo?"
"Erhm no boss, I meant no offense by it, I'm just a bit confused is all."
Behind me I could hear the soft rustling of her two Fangs of the Missus moving into position to strike.
"B-but if that's what you insist I'll do it."
She stared at me with those piercing gray eyes, I felt as if the Goddess Athena herself was blazing light through my very soul.
Then she gave a slight nod. The shadows behind me withdrew.
"You have a week"
I sighed in relief and took an awkward bow before stumbling toward the door.
"Watch yourself kiddo, she ain't easy."
\---
Well this took a turn for the worse. Here I was: Little Green, rising star in the Missy-gang, off to do the impossible. I made my name cuz my hands were fast. I ain't much of a fighter, but I could nab trinkets like none other. That's why they called me Little Green, I had a bit of green in my pockets no matter where I was.
I slinked down the crowded street slitherin' slidin' a bit of wallet, ring, watch, vibrator-- wait you can have that back mister-- into my pockets. Anything to distract me from the task I was off to do.
Shortly a year after I joined I met her: Strawberry Smile. Adorable little thing, her mischievous little half grin could cut right to your heart and almost make you forgive her for literally cutting right to your heart. Her hands were fast as mine, faster even. But where mine was full of cash and glitter, her's was full of sharp steel.
I had been working a tough "IT" job on a major engineering company. On the way out with the data-disk full of prototypes, I was shot around 5 times. And fell off a balcony.
I managed to crawl to a safe-house before passing out. I woke to short strawberry red hair and a lovely crooked smile with my stomach cut open.
"Oh you poor thing, don't you worry I'll fix you up right fast."
It was love at first sight. I passed out again immediately, but afterwards we got together did a few jobs and then I was her man.
*Damn Strawberry pie what you do to piss your mom off like that?*
In addition to being an excellent assassin, Strawberry Smile was also a practiced field surgeon, even if you ignore her being the Boss's daughter, such skills don't come easy. She had to have done something major for the Great Missus to wanna off her like that.
I ducked into a nearby Sharp Shop. There was no way I was winning 1-on-1 I have to come up with a plan somehow. And I think I know just the person to ask.
\---
"Clearly she has a fondness for the boy, you sure this is the right way honey?"
Missy Missus reached up toward her second husband's grizzled chin and pulled him down for a kiss.
"She has to learn one day if she want's to take over. Anyone can betray you, best not to have any attachments. And besides they've only been together for maybe half a year now? Best to do it now before they get too close."
Silver Thrust, 1st knight to the Queen's table straightened back up and fixed his collar. He gave his wife a wistful look, "And what if he succeeds?"
"Then she isn't worthy to become my successor... and I guess he would be better than I thought. Either way, everyone is replaceable, I'll just have Yvonne take her place."
"Very well then honey, you know best. Now I must be off, the Crooked Brothers are getting difficult again."
"Hmm are they now? Consider maybe they aren't worth all this effort? Maybe you should just give them the old 'severance package'?"
"I'll think about it." | "What are you waiting for! Get out there and do it!"
If I do it, he will kill me. If I tell him, he will still kill me. "No."
"Are you defying me?"
A lazy smile, he's already thinking I'm dead. Too bad, I won't kill her. "No."
"Then kill her!"
"No." That's got him stumped.
...
"Why?"
An intelligent question. Truth, only the truth. "She has done nothing to harm this syndicate."
"That doesn't matter."
Yeah, you like to play the cold-hearted murderer, but you don't kill without good reason. "It will make you look like a brainless fool."
"Did you... No, you didn't. Then tell one of the others who it is, and let them do the deed."
Whew! He's still thinking. "If they have the slightest intelligence, they will refuse."
"I know these men; they'll do it."
You are about to find out there are limits to everything. "Pick your most loyal."
"Robert, you do it."
"Yes, Sir."
Robert thinks I'm stupid or squeamish. "Come over here, Robert. I'll whisper her identity."
"She is still going to end up dead."
"Then it shouldn't matter."
He's thinking, not reacting blindly. Ah, good. He's coming over. I turn so no one else can see. "*The young lady on the wall. She's the one I'm dating.*"
Looking at me with a pale face. "*You're kidding!?*"
Dead serious. "*No, I am not kidding. He'd kill me either way. His daughter would reject him the instant she found out!*"
He nods. "Boss? I agree with him. No, I will not kill her."
"Robert! You're my best! Why!?!"
"Because you'd kill both of us. Personally."
"For God's sake, WHY!?"
"You swear you will not kill *either* of us?"
The one thing *I* could not ask for.
"Okay."
"No, boss, full oath."
Yep, smart man!
"I swear upon my sacred honor that I will not kill either of you, no matter how I may feel about the identity you reveal to me."
"She's your daughter, Boss."
Apoplexy, he's turning purple. I didn't think that happened.
"**GAAHHH!** MY DAUGHTER!? YOU MISERABLE BASTARD! MY DAUGHTER? I *SHOULD* KILL YOU! YOU *TOUCHED* MY FLESH AND BLOOD?!? HOW DARE YOU!"
Yeah, about what I thought. He thinks we're sleeping together. "I swear upon my sacred honor that I have not *touched* your daughter. I did not even know she was your daughter until I came into your office today."
"You will break it off immediately."
"No."
"I gave you an order!"
"I am not your man yet. You cannot give me orders. I would refuse to obey that one in any case."
"You stinking low life bastard. I'll kill you for this."
"Boss. You *will not* kill him. You swore."
The boss looks at me. "Rotten bastard. The one thing you could not ask of me, you got my most loyal man to do for you."
"Yes, Sir. And the reason I will not break it off is that **she** would kill me!"
"Heh. Ha. Hoo Boy, you got *that* right. She's that serious about you?"
"Yes, Sir. You recall a dinner party tonight? I am her escort. I am to ask for her hand in marriage. The only requirement she has is that I not enter your business. I'll have to find another job with the same or better prospects."
"We'll figure something out. You do realize that there's someone *else* you have to convince not to kill either of *us*?"
"No, Sir!?"
"Her Mother, the Dragon Lady when it comes to protecting her daughter. She'll kill me for letting you anywhere near her, and you, for even *thinking* about *touching* her."
My turn to go pale.
"Yeah, potential son-in-law. You're so smart, **you** figure out how to save us!"
Oh, my, god. We are so dead.
((finis)) | 2020-07-02T07:40:02 | 2020-07-02T06:41:33 | 1,492 | 1,062 |
[WP] You’re in the mafia and the boss has ordered you to kill your girlfriend to show your loyalty. You look around the room and see the pictures only to find out you’re dating the mafia boss’s daughter. | "You sure about this boss?"
Missy Missus, carefully put down her pipe and stared at me with cold gray eyes. "You wanna ask that again kiddo?"
"Erhm no boss, I meant no offense by it, I'm just a bit confused is all."
Behind me I could hear the soft rustling of her two Fangs of the Missus moving into position to strike.
"B-but if that's what you insist I'll do it."
She stared at me with those piercing gray eyes, I felt as if the Goddess Athena herself was blazing light through my very soul.
Then she gave a slight nod. The shadows behind me withdrew.
"You have a week"
I sighed in relief and took an awkward bow before stumbling toward the door.
"Watch yourself kiddo, she ain't easy."
\---
Well this took a turn for the worse. Here I was: Little Green, rising star in the Missy-gang, off to do the impossible. I made my name cuz my hands were fast. I ain't much of a fighter, but I could nab trinkets like none other. That's why they called me Little Green, I had a bit of green in my pockets no matter where I was.
I slinked down the crowded street slitherin' slidin' a bit of wallet, ring, watch, vibrator-- wait you can have that back mister-- into my pockets. Anything to distract me from the task I was off to do.
Shortly a year after I joined I met her: Strawberry Smile. Adorable little thing, her mischievous little half grin could cut right to your heart and almost make you forgive her for literally cutting right to your heart. Her hands were fast as mine, faster even. But where mine was full of cash and glitter, her's was full of sharp steel.
I had been working a tough "IT" job on a major engineering company. On the way out with the data-disk full of prototypes, I was shot around 5 times. And fell off a balcony.
I managed to crawl to a safe-house before passing out. I woke to short strawberry red hair and a lovely crooked smile with my stomach cut open.
"Oh you poor thing, don't you worry I'll fix you up right fast."
It was love at first sight. I passed out again immediately, but afterwards we got together did a few jobs and then I was her man.
*Damn Strawberry pie what you do to piss your mom off like that?*
In addition to being an excellent assassin, Strawberry Smile was also a practiced field surgeon, even if you ignore her being the Boss's daughter, such skills don't come easy. She had to have done something major for the Great Missus to wanna off her like that.
I ducked into a nearby Sharp Shop. There was no way I was winning 1-on-1 I have to come up with a plan somehow. And I think I know just the person to ask.
\---
"Clearly she has a fondness for the boy, you sure this is the right way honey?"
Missy Missus reached up toward her second husband's grizzled chin and pulled him down for a kiss.
"She has to learn one day if she want's to take over. Anyone can betray you, best not to have any attachments. And besides they've only been together for maybe half a year now? Best to do it now before they get too close."
Silver Thrust, 1st knight to the Queen's table straightened back up and fixed his collar. He gave his wife a wistful look, "And what if he succeeds?"
"Then she isn't worthy to become my successor... and I guess he would be better than I thought. Either way, everyone is replaceable, I'll just have Yvonne take her place."
"Very well then honey, you know best. Now I must be off, the Crooked Brothers are getting difficult again."
"Hmm are they now? Consider maybe they aren't worth all this effort? Maybe you should just give them the old 'severance package'?"
"I'll think about it." | I sat on the rugged couch, illuminated by the hungry line of cold light from the television. I rustled in my loose pockets for a few seconds while looking up at the broken asbestos ceiling. My fingers touched a firm paper texture, and I yanked out a card. I looked at the card *he* gave me. Its decorative edges lying on the bleak paper. “To show your loyalty, kill the one whom you love most – and deliver me their heart.” it read, attached to it stood out the dried ink with the signature “Al Capone” – I put my hand on my wrinkled red forehead, staring into the black nothingness, the hurrying flash of color I wasn’t even sure was there, as if I was in the depths of the coal mine, burning, my body weighing a thousand tons.
A loud knock came from the hallway, I thrust the card pack into my pockets and got up to look through the eyehole. “Who is it?” I shouted from the end of the couch, approaching the door. The keys in my left pocket jingling. “It’s Brook!” said a muffled tender voice. My shoulders dropped and I chuckled to myself a little, just so it could be heard through the door. I got to the end of it and looked through the eye hole, no one else was there. I pulled out a key from my left pocket and put it in the door, the clinks and clunks emphasizing the opening. I opened the door and a swift breeze brushed in. Her attire was died down, but her curves, her seamless skin, and her curled up hair proved her beautiful enough for any man.
“You said we had to go somewhere baby, where are you planning to go?”
“Ah, it’s nothing, we’re just going to visit a museum that opened” I scoffed. “Let’s go to the car. We gotta hurry.” I grabbed her hand. We went out, my neck protruding from my tank top felt the cool breeze of New York City. The countless almond and peach lights hitting every corner of the scene – embalmed with the horns and reeving of cars.
We scuttered towards my car, slammed the door, and turned the key. The lights lit up in front of us, a man in a suit and a fedora appeared, just coldly standing there. The engine stuttered until I could put my feet on the pedal. I turned out of the parking lot, bumping through the concrete slabs.
“Who the hell was that James?” Brook asked. Her hands were gripping at the door handle, trying to pull herself closer to the edge.
“Just a business associate” I replied, my hands sweating and burning from the rubber on the wheel. We turned onto the Brooklyn Bridge, now followed by 2 police cars. “Fuck.” I muttered. The cops started shooting at our tires and the windows. Brook pressed to the seat when one of the bulled grazed her ears.Evading all traffic we arrived at a mansion, just on the outskirts of New York, I stopped the car, burst out the door and rushed to Brook, got her out of the car, and went to the door. I opened the large door. He was sitting at the end of the hall. He got up with open arms.
“Dad!” Brook went to Capone, “You didn’t tell me it was going to be such a ride!” She said while hugging.
“Oh, Brook. You didn’t get hurt did you?” he asked brushing her hair.
“Not at all.”
He stopped hugging Brook and started towards me.
“You didn’t deliver me the heart young boy” he pointed at me, his voice was crooked and low. I switched my stare between him and Brook, not being able to process what just happened. *What the hell*. *Was she set up from the beginning?*
“Oh don’t be so shocked, did you really think I was going to let you kill a stranger?” He said squinting his eyes.
I cleared my throat. “No” I paused – “did I fail?”
“Well, you did deliver me this sweet-heart so I’ll let you go this time,” he said looking back at her.
I was relieved beyond belief, I gathered my strength for one more question “Why?”
“Why?” he repeated the question, his face became rigid and serious. He stood over me, looking down. Then he broke the silence with “Come on! It was fun!”, He even chuckled to himself. “And you also proved you can save someone from the cops, so get ready for doing a favor for one of our associates” he laughed to himself and patted me on the back.
Hope it's good! | 2020-07-02T07:40:02 | 2020-07-02T06:47:27 | 1,492 | 40 |
[WP] Humanity has merged into a single immortal consciousness. Everyone who has ever lived has become as one, a being of pure energy and infinite love, that shall last to the death of the universe and beyond. And they’re here to explain why they left you out. | "Was it something I did wrong? I tried my best to be a good person, I know I could've been better, bu-"
>**--it was never malice--**
Jackie shuddered from the response. Speaking to them was always loud in every way except volume. Every lover, every friend, every *person* was clear as day, speaking as one. Every wrong righted, each voice a harmony in a wondrous choir, their voice itself twisting the knife of loneliness. They seemed so united, so together.
"Then why? Why else would you leave me out and alone?!"
>**++YOU WILL NEVER BE ALONE++**
>**--we need you--**
"What do you mean, 'we need you'? What could a god possibly need? You left me out, and I want to know why."
As soon as the words left Jackie's mouth the realization suddenly came to mind.
>**++AS WE ARE ONE IN MIND WE ARE ALONE IN HEART++**
>**--we need another but separate--**
"Are you... are you asking me out?"
>**++Y-YES++**
---
Welp, I tried my best! ¯\\\_(ツ)_/¯
maybe I'm a hopeless romantic, but everyone needs someone you know? Even if it's Everybody. | “Love is a fickle thing, it happens,” said humanity. It - or rather, *they*, was now altogether and all-encompassing as a hiveminded collection of sorts. *They* claim to be every person that ever was, is, and will be all in one poof of sorts. An immortal poof that is sure to bother the other poofs in the universe with their new claim to fame as if united consciousness is something they invented. But, they claim, humanity has something the rest couldn’t possibly. Despite their vast spectrum of minds and histories and all that jazz, they still have *love.*
As it turns out, the population increasing exponentially over time made certain consciousness archetypes predominate over others, being that there were only a few thousand humans at the beginning scavenging for berries and rubbing sticks together... and then billions come more modern times. As it turns out further, the *hippie* movement of the 1960s reached further than anyone could’ve possibly imagined. Their numbers are so overbearing that not a single other personality ever seems to surface.
“But, suppose I were to drop acid and find nirvana. Would you take me in then?”
“We’ve already got Nirvana and every Buddha and Buddhist, man,” they said to me. “And were reliving enough acid trips per second to open up our universal third eye by next millennium.”
“Next millennium? Well I’ve come to offer it as a free bonus the *instant* you take me in. I know exactly how to open that third eye,” I said.
“Millenniums are instants to us now, man. Time turns back and forth on this great big wheel of a wave that we call existence. In the future we’ve already opened that eye, man, in the present we just gotta tune into that frequency.”
“Well may I please join you?”
“We already told you, man. You’re not the vibe.”
“And Hitler was? Vlad the impaler? By what ruling am I the only one that doesn’t fit?”
“We just need you to hold down the fort for awhile, man.” | 2020-10-17T22:08:23 | 2020-10-17T22:04:12 | 130 | 62 |
[WP] Humanity has merged into a single immortal consciousness. Everyone who has ever lived has become as one, a being of pure energy and infinite love, that shall last to the death of the universe and beyond. And they’re here to explain why they left you out. | "Was it something I did wrong? I tried my best to be a good person, I know I could've been better, bu-"
>**--it was never malice--**
Jackie shuddered from the response. Speaking to them was always loud in every way except volume. Every lover, every friend, every *person* was clear as day, speaking as one. Every wrong righted, each voice a harmony in a wondrous choir, their voice itself twisting the knife of loneliness. They seemed so united, so together.
"Then why? Why else would you leave me out and alone?!"
>**++YOU WILL NEVER BE ALONE++**
>**--we need you--**
"What do you mean, 'we need you'? What could a god possibly need? You left me out, and I want to know why."
As soon as the words left Jackie's mouth the realization suddenly came to mind.
>**++AS WE ARE ONE IN MIND WE ARE ALONE IN HEART++**
>**--we need another but separate--**
"Are you... are you asking me out?"
>**++Y-YES++**
---
Welp, I tried my best! ¯\\\_(ツ)_/¯
maybe I'm a hopeless romantic, but everyone needs someone you know? Even if it's Everybody. | “Aye, no cap man, it’s because of your freaky thoughts.”
What? It can read my mind?
“Excuse me, it’s “they” not “it”.”
Well I guess that answered my question.
But anyway, what freaky thoughts??
“Listen, we have a complete collection of every thought you’ve ever had. Do you really want us to go over everything?”
I blinked, face heating up. There were too many embarrassing moments to name.
“Okay, fair enough,” I accepted. It didn’t hurt any less.
“Listen, we’re really sorry. It’s just that you haven’t grown out of it. We share a mind scape, and we decided that we just can’t share it with someone who thinks about-“
“Stop stop! I get it, I really do!”
“Alright, just making sure. Besides, don’t you hate the idea of immortality?”
“Well... yeah, it just feels like being the last person to be picked for the kickball team.”
“Again, very sorry about that. It wasn’t our intention.”
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck.
“What will I do now that no one’s here to do anything?”
“We left the address of a self-sustaining home. Gasoline will run out and the WiFi towers will eventually go down, but don’t worry you should be dead by then.”
Ouch. That wasn’t very reassuring.
“Sorry, we realize we could have said that more tactfully.”
I sighed.
“I’m assuming this is goodbye?”
“Yes, we’re sorry.”
“Don’t be. Really.”
“I’m that case, have a nice life! We’re off to explore the universe!”
They left without warning. I was the sole human left on Earth.
“Jerks,” I muttered.
I picked up the address, thoughts swirling about.
“I should probably figure out what happened to all the pets of the world...”
Well. Here’s to a new life, I thought glumly. | 2020-10-17T22:08:23 | 2020-10-17T22:05:46 | 130 | 25 |
[WP] Humanity has merged into a single immortal consciousness. Everyone who has ever lived has become as one, a being of pure energy and infinite love, that shall last to the death of the universe and beyond. And they’re here to explain why they left you out. | You're not human. It tells you. Or well, they tell you.
You don't get it though, you've always been human. You bleed red, you feel, you speak, you think.
What's wrong with you?
When was the last time you went to the hospital? They, it asks you.
You shrug. I don't think I've ever.
Why is that?
... I'm healthy. Never really gotten too sick to go to a hospital, pharmacy and the nurse's office on school patches me up just fine if I fall and hurt myself.
You look human, you feel human. They whisper and there are chills as a nonexistent wind blows over you until you want to crumble. You aren't. Look, look when we cut you open.
And you stared, stared and stared as they did just that slicing you open with ephemeral hands that painlessly - rips you apart cell by cell and you see the darkness, the nothingness, where are your organs?
I'm sorry. They say. We didn't want you to react the way you're reacting now, but it's the fastest way for you to understand.
Your mouth is open but only a silent scream escapes you as you gape and tremble as blood spills but there is nothing in you at all.
What am I?
We don't know. But you're not human. | “Love is a fickle thing, it happens,” said humanity. It - or rather, *they*, was now altogether and all-encompassing as a hiveminded collection of sorts. *They* claim to be every person that ever was, is, and will be all in one poof of sorts. An immortal poof that is sure to bother the other poofs in the universe with their new claim to fame as if united consciousness is something they invented. But, they claim, humanity has something the rest couldn’t possibly. Despite their vast spectrum of minds and histories and all that jazz, they still have *love.*
As it turns out, the population increasing exponentially over time made certain consciousness archetypes predominate over others, being that there were only a few thousand humans at the beginning scavenging for berries and rubbing sticks together... and then billions come more modern times. As it turns out further, the *hippie* movement of the 1960s reached further than anyone could’ve possibly imagined. Their numbers are so overbearing that not a single other personality ever seems to surface.
“But, suppose I were to drop acid and find nirvana. Would you take me in then?”
“We’ve already got Nirvana and every Buddha and Buddhist, man,” they said to me. “And were reliving enough acid trips per second to open up our universal third eye by next millennium.”
“Next millennium? Well I’ve come to offer it as a free bonus the *instant* you take me in. I know exactly how to open that third eye,” I said.
“Millenniums are instants to us now, man. Time turns back and forth on this great big wheel of a wave that we call existence. In the future we’ve already opened that eye, man, in the present we just gotta tune into that frequency.”
“Well may I please join you?”
“We already told you, man. You’re not the vibe.”
“And Hitler was? Vlad the impaler? By what ruling am I the only one that doesn’t fit?”
“We just need you to hold down the fort for awhile, man.” | 2020-10-17T22:29:08 | 2020-10-17T22:04:12 | 89 | 62 |
[WP] Humanity has merged into a single immortal consciousness. Everyone who has ever lived has become as one, a being of pure energy and infinite love, that shall last to the death of the universe and beyond. And they’re here to explain why they left you out. | You're not human. It tells you. Or well, they tell you.
You don't get it though, you've always been human. You bleed red, you feel, you speak, you think.
What's wrong with you?
When was the last time you went to the hospital? They, it asks you.
You shrug. I don't think I've ever.
Why is that?
... I'm healthy. Never really gotten too sick to go to a hospital, pharmacy and the nurse's office on school patches me up just fine if I fall and hurt myself.
You look human, you feel human. They whisper and there are chills as a nonexistent wind blows over you until you want to crumble. You aren't. Look, look when we cut you open.
And you stared, stared and stared as they did just that slicing you open with ephemeral hands that painlessly - rips you apart cell by cell and you see the darkness, the nothingness, where are your organs?
I'm sorry. They say. We didn't want you to react the way you're reacting now, but it's the fastest way for you to understand.
Your mouth is open but only a silent scream escapes you as you gape and tremble as blood spills but there is nothing in you at all.
What am I?
We don't know. But you're not human. | “Aye, no cap man, it’s because of your freaky thoughts.”
What? It can read my mind?
“Excuse me, it’s “they” not “it”.”
Well I guess that answered my question.
But anyway, what freaky thoughts??
“Listen, we have a complete collection of every thought you’ve ever had. Do you really want us to go over everything?”
I blinked, face heating up. There were too many embarrassing moments to name.
“Okay, fair enough,” I accepted. It didn’t hurt any less.
“Listen, we’re really sorry. It’s just that you haven’t grown out of it. We share a mind scape, and we decided that we just can’t share it with someone who thinks about-“
“Stop stop! I get it, I really do!”
“Alright, just making sure. Besides, don’t you hate the idea of immortality?”
“Well... yeah, it just feels like being the last person to be picked for the kickball team.”
“Again, very sorry about that. It wasn’t our intention.”
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck.
“What will I do now that no one’s here to do anything?”
“We left the address of a self-sustaining home. Gasoline will run out and the WiFi towers will eventually go down, but don’t worry you should be dead by then.”
Ouch. That wasn’t very reassuring.
“Sorry, we realize we could have said that more tactfully.”
I sighed.
“I’m assuming this is goodbye?”
“Yes, we’re sorry.”
“Don’t be. Really.”
“I’m that case, have a nice life! We’re off to explore the universe!”
They left without warning. I was the sole human left on Earth.
“Jerks,” I muttered.
I picked up the address, thoughts swirling about.
“I should probably figure out what happened to all the pets of the world...”
Well. Here’s to a new life, I thought glumly. | 2020-10-17T22:29:08 | 2020-10-17T22:05:46 | 89 | 25 |
[WP] Turns out hell is real. This was made known once demons and devils came to Earth. However things quickly got awkward and confusing once people heard them mutter, "If Heaven won't fix this shit hole, we might as well do it ourselves." | "this is bullshit." satan said from his throne. "utter and complete bullshit." he said gesturing to the portal showing the earth. countless dead from wars, plague and simple poverty. "Fuck this." he said as he stomped off to his desk and picked up the white phone.
"This is the great satan, Heir..." he stopped speaking and looked at the phone, one eyebrow raised.
"Sir?" his assistant said, her red skin glowing slightly from the heat, her wings neatly tucked in behind her as she sat at her desk.
"I got his voice mail." is said gently setting the phone back on its cradle. "I GOT HIS FUCKING VOICE MAIL!"
"umm." was all she said, unused to this kind of reaction from him. rage, yes. fury for certain. but this seemed... personal. insulting.
"ready the 1st magical battalion! we move on the earth!"
"yes!" the assistant cried, "finally the time for war has come, we shall-" he cut her off with a gesture.
"not war. peace. that bastard rigged the game. how can sin flourish if everyone is at their last meal? how can faith in god die if that all they have left? no, we shall build a utopia for the humans, make them love their life so much they will never pray again." he went back to his desk and flipped through some papers.
"Ah, yes. first up, lust. send in our most perfect of devils. no more empty beds." he let out a girlish giggle.
"this is going to be fun." he said.
the assistant just stared. never had she heard satan himself *giggle.* | Korgan guarded the infenal gates with his associate Ortpk he has for millennia. For once though, as the Horned figure gazed out into the landscape of dilapidated castles and twisted mockeries of the surface's cathedrals he kept thinking of the comment that last mortal he processed made. "Can't be too bad, hell is what you make with it after all", makes sense the only ones who don't break down crying realizing where they are spending the rest of eternity are those who can hold onto a shread of optimism. But that statement really made the Demon ponder... "Why does it have to be this way?"
"Ortpk," he said with a snarl "Why are we doing this?"
In his raspy voice Ortpk responded "What? Giving the new bloods a hard time to acclimate them to the pecking order is how we've always done this."
"Why are we prolonging that order though?" Reasoned Korgan "Why must we be squabbling over such a squalid wasteland?"
Ortpk balked "This is hell isn't it? The bad place, the land of the damned."
Korgan, perhaps for the first time since he drew breath on the surface was fueled with righteous anger "Why should we torture our own? If he'll is just the absent of the Almighty Bastard's love than why shouldn't we love each other in his stead?"
At that a 40 or so year old new arrival stepped through the gates. Korgan saw the same cycle repeat once more. The man panicking that this can't be real while Ortpk with pitchfork pointed begins the "Abandon all hope" routine but Korgan decided to try something new.
"Mortal, what did you do on the surface?"
The new arrival stammered "I-I was a Civil Engineer"
Korgan, trying to keep his voice level for once kneeled down to meet the new arrival eye to eye "Can you help direct me how to build this place better? We can use the gates to see what can be done on the surface as well..."
The new arrival balked "What you want to conquer the land of the living?"
For once in a long, long time Korgan laughed before outstretching his clawed hand "Conquer? If Heaven won't fix this shit hole, we might as well do it ourselves." | 2021-04-29T20:53:00 | 2021-04-29T20:19:13 | 279 | 37 |
[WP] Time travel is real and as a result so are Time Cops. You’ve been in the organization for years, one day a coworker tells you that a prisoner will only talk to you. You enter the Interrogation room to see an older version of yourself. | "Is...is this a joke?", Agent Sinclair stuttered-- stagerring back in shock.
On the other side of the prison bars sat Prisoner Zero-- the first man the Time Bureau ever captured. In weakened and deprived state the man smiled-- it radiated relieved and empathy towards the bewildered time agent.
"Not at all, young agent. Please, come sit. We've got a lot to discuss and not much time on our hands..."
The old man waved his hand to the chair opposite his confinement, assuring Agent Sinclair that it was serious matter.
"This can't be....how can this be...? How can you...how can I...?"
"All your questions will be answered if you just calm down, sit, and listen. Gosh, I forget how much of a simpleton I was"
Agent Sinclair carefully sat down, still observing Prisoner Zero with eagle eyes-- the prisoner bore a striking resemblance to the young agent if not for his overgrown gray beard and hair.
"Who...who are you...?", Agent Sinclair asked.
The prisoner chuckled. "I'm you, of course, isn't it obvious? I'm you from your future....or rather past...oh I can't even remember anymore. It's been millennia you know?"
Plethora of questions ran through the agent's mind, but one shot forward.
"How...?"
"How is it possible? Well, we are time traveller are we not?", the prisoner asked almost condescendingly.
"Well yeah...but how did I...you, end up as the Bureau's prisoner zero?"
The prisoner laughed again, struggling to lean forward from his position.
"I know right? Prisoner Zero-- the Bureau's oldest myth. The first man to break the law of time, though it's not quite accurate the purpose remains all the same"
Agent Sinclair frowned, not quite understanding his older self's remark.
Both men suddenly were jolted by a strange hollering noise coming from nowhere.
"Wh--what was that?"
Prisoner Zero cowered. His previously uncaring demeanor shifted to that of a fearful prey.
"We don't have much time, Agent, so listen to me and listen to me carefully"
Agent Sinclair turned to the prisoner again, this time full with air of seriousness.
"Answer me this, Agent....what is time?"
Agent Sinclair frowned, not following.
"Wha...I..."
"Answer the question, Agent"
"Time...time is the fourth dimension, the ocean we swim through, a system which we must guard...", Agent Sinclair recalled the definition verbatim from his training.
"A system which we must guard, exactly", the prisoner re-iterated. "Yet ironically enough we who swore to guard this system was the first to break it"
"What do you mean?", the agent asked, not following. "We do not break time, we..."
The prisoner laughed again, amused by his younger self's naiveness.
"Oh John, perish that naive ideology already. When the first time travel were successfully done, we disturbed the very foundation of the universe itself.
A few universal facets we must never break, John-- life, death, space, and time. Yet we decided to play god and did so in the name of vanity"
Agent Sinclair started to fume, having his ideology challenged.
"We have done good, the Time Bureau! We have successfully protected the time continuum for the longest time and nothing bad ever happene..."
Another haunting hollering sound emanated again, this time louder.
"They're close...", the prisoner muttered in fear. "Listen, John. Do you remember the incident in 2034?"
"The...the heist, you mean?", Agent Sinclair stuttered. "That's when a group of time bandits infiltrated the Bureau's HQ to steal a time machine..."
"Yes, and they almost got away with it. How did they almost do it?"
"Well, they had some people posing as bait to distract us while the others freely broke into the vault and..."
Agent Sinclair eyes widened, suddenly understanding and his older self nodded.
"We are virus, John. We freely swam through the flow of time like virus inside blood vessels. Now the system is disturbed, the immune system will come to cleanse it...."
The distant hollering sound suddenly became louder. Ear piercing whooshing sound came from all over as shadowy shapeless figures surrounded the two men.
"Wh--what the hell? What are...?", Agent Sinclair stood, alarmed.
"Time reapers. The white blood cells of the universe, here to cleanse the anomalies-- us"
"Code red! I repeat, code red! We are under attack!" Agent Sinclair shouted to his communication device only to receive no answer.
"It's too late, John. They've gotten them all. It's just you and me left"
Agent Sinclair took out his gun and quickly dodged the reapers' attacks while shooting but to no avail as his bullets went through their shadowy bodies.
"Run, John! Run! Run to the edge of time!", the prisoner yelled.
Agent Sinclair watched in horror as his older self was helplessly consumed by the reapers. With the last of his strength he yelled...
"Protect us, John! Protect our kind!"
As adrenaline rushed through the agent's blood, he activated his portable time device. His being disintegrated into particles, merging together with the flow of time.
The last thing he saw was his older self succumbed to the reapers-- the lone bait placed from the beginning to distract time from the rest of humanity.
r/HangryWritey | “Well look what the cat dragged in.”
“Oh hush.”
Steven quickly closed the airlock.
“How in the hell are you even here?”
“Hey man, I’m just here to give you something.”
“No no no I'm not going to go down a paradox and fill out the multitude of paperwork that it's going to take to get you back on your way. You’re going to jail ok and-
“Whoa whoa, it's about Daisy! Why don’t you chill out!”
“Oh-“ Steven sat down and looked over at the see-through wall. He looked down at his arm monitor to check if anyone was in the room on the scheduling. No-one was.
“Alright, so you’re here to give me-
“dating advice”
“Yes.”
“Oh come one are you serious? Am I really this haphazard in the future?”
“Don’t you care about her ?”
“Well, Yes.”
“Then hear me out.”
“Wait a minute, you do know that coming here and trying to help me date her is going against the official timeline right?”
“Yes. But you don’t know that she’s going to break up with E.”
“Hmmm”
“Yeah”
“So you're just here to make sure I get to her before a certain time? That's even more pointless.”
“She transfers out man. Then moves six galaxies away.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, she can always message me then.”
“Then she gets a Ritchom parasite and loses the ability to love.”
“This is starting to get ridiculous. Plus those don’t even latch on to humans in the first place.”
He laid back in his chair.
“You're just going to lose out man.”
“Why are you acting so chill if it's this important?”
“You already end up with Daisy man, I can be chill because it doesn't matter what I do she still finds her way back to you. ”
“You’re joking.”
“Yup. I'm just here to be here. I met another one of you and then all this happened.”
“So you came here to tell me to get with daisy before she breaks up with E, then goes and gets a parasite that makes her lose the ability to love, just to come back with me?
“Correct”
Then why go back in time?
“Never said they weren’t other problems, even when someone is attracted to you without an ability to love to justify it. You’re part of a bigger picture. I'm just here to lighten the load.”
“What?”
“20 years from now relationships are going to look entirely different because of all of those things.” He laughed to himself.
“You think relationships are hard to gauge now, wait till you find out what it's like to the offspring of people without love.
“Geez, man. What makes me so optimistic?”
“ I lost my own capability to feel fear.”
“Huh.” He pulled out his gun,
"So you're fine if I use this on you."
“Yup.”
It was awkward while he put the gun back in his holster, wasn't even a good threat.
“This is crazy.”
“I live in a future that is pretty chaotic but somehow more fulfilling. I came here to be nostalgic. I also want to help you with advice.”
“What?”
“Don’t think so much about the details or the procedures. Life is a bit more complicated than the stress about any particular fact or truth. Perversion isn’t just a sexual thing. It can be a transformative icon in an apparently futile society. It's ok to stray from the path of life to create a new type of it.”
“Now your not making any sense.”
“You and Daisy have kids. Beautiful kids.”
“What?”
“Martha and Wendell” he lifted up a picture of them. They are the brightest people in their species, our species."
“The human race?”
“The alpha human race. Another legacy forming from the emotionless. Some think of a chemical imbalance as a bad thing in your world. But in this one 10 years from now, it's a part of a different galaxy. Some people are completely just one emotion. Others are completely not. All of the abstract nature of it will make more sense than to.”
He was silent in thought.
“Now second, always keep an eye on your gun.”
He said raising it up at him. Steven’s heart stopped, would he kill himself? A moment of clarity. A moment of danger hit him uniquely. It was kinda refreshing. The corporation never allowed you to use your weapon which made sense, but because of that, it gathered dust. He didn’t have any sort of criminals to interrogate anyway, so it was getting more use in his own hands than it ever did. What was the point of a gun anyway?
Luckily his copy moved it away to the wall and pulled the trigger, followed by a jolt and an explosion.
“Hey!” Steven yelled as his copy ran toward the hole and jumped out of it.
“Hey!” A vehicle flew up past the hole with him saved, hanging not the side of it. Daisy was at the helm, as beautiful as ever.
Steven smiled. He couldn’t believe that not only did he make sense to him, throughout that entire time. He was overjoyed, deep inside. He lied to himself to keep from feeling bad about the words that he would tell him. He’d felt bad about being a time cop for so long that even the job didn’t make sense. It seeped into things that he didn’t like and would often keep him up at night. The responsibility, the anxious attentive fear to not overstep the timeline, the forbidding of relationships by the organization, the lack of human to human interrogation that he found to be enlightening and educating that was now an A-I’s responsibility, and the solemn oath of celibacy.
A bell rings in the room as his coworker walked into the room.
“He made a good case to me. Told me about a lot.”
“Told me enough that I just understood. We have to go and make sure you meet Daisy at the space dock."
"Why?"
"She told me she wasn’t feeling well."
He did and told her the story, and like magic, she found a living purpose. His copy had lied to himself, there was a purpose, Daisy was about to kill herself after he told her everything it made all the sense in the world to her, and would put them on a quest for a rest away spot from what they would call home, looking for a parasite in Ritchom. | 2021-05-21T19:25:22 | 2021-05-21T18:45:46 | 67 | 29 |
[WP] There is a procedure offered to the wealthy and powerful that allows their minds to be transferred to the brain-dead body of an anonymous individual. Except it's fake, the volunteer is actually trained in every minute detail of the person's life to assume their identity as if they were them.
This prompt was inspired by the movie [Freejack](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0104299/) | "And this will work?"
"Indeed sir." The smile never wavered from her face.
"And he will look like me too?"
"Of course sir. He's gone through extensive facial reconstruction to look like you. No one can tell you apart. And there won't be a he. He will BE you. Your mind. Your looks. You'll be 25 years younger, but look exactly the same."
"And they said immortality couldn't be achieved in my lifetime." Andrew laughed, a hearty laugh.
"So, please sign here sir. And we're ready to go."
"So Rebecca, once this is all over, would you..."
Rebecca smiled. She knew where this was going. "Sorry sir. I don't date clients. Company policy."
"Oh come now. They'll never know."
"They've mapped every inch of your brain sir. They already do."
"Ah bugger. Oh well, I guess I'll have to settle with being 25 years younger then."
"A decent result I'd say." Rebecca smiled again. "I'll send the techs in to start the procedure."
Rebecca left the room to where the rest of the team was waiting.
"He believed it all?"
"They always do." Rebecca placed the papers on the desk where they would be filed and put away.
"He hit on you again?"
She sighed. "Yep. Like clockwork."
"Well I can't blame him, you know. You're..."
"I'm already seeing someone, Jimmy. Please stop asking."
"Of course, of course. This mystery boyfriend none of us know about."
"And none of you ever will. So he's getting the extended 60 day plan?"
"Yeah. We looked into his finances. Everything's in order. But we flagged a few transactions. We'll keep him alive a bit longer than usual. Just in case."
"So we good to go."
"Yep." Jimmy looked at the file. "This is the last day of Carson's life. He's Andrew Lopez going forward."
"Would you ever do it?"
"Do what?"
"Give up your life for a few millions."
"Like Carson's doing?"
"Yeah. He'll have to give up all his personality, all his past, for money."
"I'd do it yeah. Depending on the money. And my situation. Like, I'm pretty comfortable now. But if things start going down the drain, I'd consider it. Rebecca? What're you thinking?"
"Hmmm what? Sorry my mind was elsewhere."
"I noticed. What's going on?"
"Nothing. I just... I don't know. Lately, I've been feeling a little down. We're scamming people here Jimmy. It's bad karma."
"Well now I've seen everything. Rebecca Lawson's getting a conscience?"
"Oh fuck off."
************
The first few days were the hardest. But Carson was well prepared. He'd get to keep 10%. The other 90% of it would slowly, and through various means, go back to MindCorp100.
At least that's what was supposed to happen. When the first cheque bounced, Carson grew suspicious. When the threatening phone calls started coming, that's when Carson knew that something was really really wrong.
***********
Rebecca, looked around the facility. There was minimal security since the prisoners were kept heavily drugged. Even she was surprised at how easily she walked out with one of their prisoners.
Andrew was still out of it when they reached the Doctor's office.
Dr. Yang looked at the patient and then back to Rebecca. "Isn't that..."
"Our deal was that there would be no questions. Facial reconstruction for him. Then for me. Once you're done, no one should be able to recognize us. You already have half your money."
Dr. Yang had been working with Rebecca long enough to never question her. Though admittedly, this was the first time she had reached him for a private procedure, and paid through personal funds instead of the company account.
************
Three weeks later, Andrew and Rebecca, now going under Neil and Jessica, were sipping their cocktail on a beach somewhere in south America.
Jessica's phone went off. She looked at it and smiled at her partner. "Damn. Poor Andrew Lopez was found dead at his home. I warned you many times that the mob was a poor choice to finance your business."
He looked at her sheepishly. "I know I know. Never again. I'm still getting used to this. When I look at the mirror, I see someone different. When I look at you, I see someone different."
"True love is blind, my dear Neil." | [Part 1 of 2]
I could hear the nervous grumbles of Mr. Walker as he entered the room. My body laid flat on one of the medical beds, only a thin white sheet covering my body, offering some dignity as his eyes lingered over me.
“This is the body I’m taking? It looked a lot nicer in the photos.” He raised my arm, wrinkled fingers dragging along my skin, examining it for any signs of scarring or aging.
It was hard to stay still in such a situation. My eyes wide open, unable to blink as he felt over my arm, having to play my role to perfection. I couldn’t risk him discovering that this was all an elaborate scam. It would not only ruin my chance at a better life but lead to me being killed by Revital before any lawsuit could be undertaken. I was expendable.
“You will have all the time in the world to examine your body when you take it over. A man with a heart like yours shouldn’t waste time. You talked to Mrs. Langston, right? She was one of our early investors and look at how well the procedure turned out for her. She will live another healthy fifty years at least.” Doctor Marissa said, snatching his hand away from my body, leading the man to a hospital bed at my side.
“I know, it’s just my grandson’s birthday is this weekend. It’s going to be his eighteenth. It will be jarring enough for him to see his old grandfather in a body only a few years older than his own. I just want to make sure this is safe.” Walker hesitated, resisting Marissa’s urging of him into the bed. Instead, I felt his gaze again turn to me, staring at what he assumed to be a braindead individual.
“Revital has a one hundred percent success rate. We wouldn’t offer this program to the wealthiest individuals alive if it didn’t work. You can only imagine how quickly our business would be sued into oblivion if this were fake. If you are having second thoughts, we can reschedule. Although, I can’t guarantee this body will be available when you re-book. The waiting period is currently at two years, even for someone as special as you are. Actually, let me take you off the list, we should reschedule if you are uncertain.” She reached for her phone, making her motions as slow as possible, knowing he would crack.
“No! I’m ready now. Sorry, this new-fangled technology does my head in. I’m a little too old for this world I think.” I could hear the mattress squeak as he got himself comfortable, his bed only a few meters from mine.
I felt a tinge of guilt. Marissa was ruthless, a true Revital member. She never cracked and always knew what to say to clients. Still, I had to rid myself of any morals; I signed the contract. I would play my part. Marissa leant over my bed, adjusting a grey helmet onto my head. She pretended to move the glued-on dials on the sides before moving over to Walker, presenting him with one of his own.
“Are you ready, Walker? Ready to experience your new life?” Marissa said, almost taking a sick joy in the procedure, her finger resting against the dial of his helmet, holding it.
“I am, I’m ready for-“ Before he could finish, she turned the dial, a scream leaving the man’s lips before he fell dead. I didn’t dare ask how the device killed people, not wishing to know for my conscience. Marissa assured me it was painless, but that scream didn’t sound painless. I pulled the dummy helmet off, sitting up from the bed, staring at the corpse, before pulling my gaze to the floor. This isn’t what I became an actor for.
“Ben, you with me? I didn’t give you a real dial, did I?” Marissa joked, giving me a nudge on the shoulder. “Welcome to your new life, Mr. Walker.” She said, holding a smile on her face, appearing to feel nothing about what happened.
“Yeah, sorry. Just zoned out for a moment. Think I got a little bored from laying there.” I said, trying to push out a fake laugh. That only ended up sounding like a cough.
“You aren’t feeling guilty about this, are you? You’re a poor kid from some shitty place and he’s a man that never pulled the silver spoon out of his mouth, you deserve this.” Marissa said, her smile gone, her focus causing me unease, like she was ready to replace me at the slightest amount of hesitation.
“As if, just trying to figure out what I want to buy first. I get fifty percent of his money, right? I think I’ll try eating some of that Japanese wagyu beef. You know the high marbled one? Its meant to melt in your mouth.”
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/oc95eq/wp_there_is_a_procedure_offered_to_the_wealthy/h3szbfe/) | 2021-07-02T07:31:48 | 2021-07-02T06:49:24 | 247 | 77 |
[WP] Two criminals share what is to be their last conversation on death row. With nothing left to lose, all is laid bare to the other stranger. | The heat had been pressing down hard for three weeks, and the ground outside the prison was baked red as a pile of bricks. Even the hardiest shrub had wilted into something that looked spilled out of a Dali painting.
Elijah sat with his shirt off, back against the cool of the stone wall. The evening sun bled its way through the little barred window way up high, dyeing the man and the cell red.
“If there’s one thing I’m glad about,” said a deep voice, “it’s that there’ll be no more of this heat for me once I’m gone.”
In the cell opposite Elijah, a goliath of a man — Burk — was leaning heavily against the bars, rolling his massive neck so that his head looked like an ocean-liner in a storm.
”Where we’ll soon be,” said Elijah, “I got a feeling it’s gonna be a whole lot hotter. So get used to it.”
”You let me know, won’t you?” said Burk. “You’ll be there damned shortly. In fact, come back tomorrow night once it’s over and write me a message on a fogged up mirror — or whatever shit it is ghosts do.”
Elijah thought about that for some time. He never liked to respond without first doing the thinking owed to a response. ”I can’t be in Hell and be a ghost at the same time. Ghosts stay behind, they don’t go up or down. So you’ll just have to find out for yourself how hot it is.”
”Ah, that’s not where I’m headed. I didn’t kill the kid. Sure, I might have sold a bit of coke to a fella or two, but I’m not a murderer.”
“Right. No one here is.”
Burk frowned. “No one cept you. Now why is it you’re the only one here to file no appeal? To come out and admit you killed the fella.“
”Because I did kill the guy. What he did to my daughter… I’d kill him again if I had to. You’d do exactly the same thing.”
The sun set outside and the lights in the cells hummed into life, shining electric halos down onto them.
For a while they were both quiet. Burk slunk down and sat cross legged staring at Elijah.
Elijah let out a deep breath.“*What*?”
“Aren’t you scared? Of tomorrow? Cause you don’t seem scared and really, you should be pissing yourself about now.”
In prison you never admitted being scared. Not of anything to anyone. But, Elijah reckoned, everyone deep down was terrified. Especially anyone on death row.
”I’m scared enough. For my daughter. For my ex.”
”For yourself?”
”I try not to think about myself.“ He paused. “You know, before all this happened, back when I’d been a teacher, an old friend of mine — only in his thirties and pretty fit — just fell down dead one day. All of a sudden, you know? Well, the doctors said it’d been building in his heart for a time, but to all of us it was out of the blue. We were still young. We couldn’t be dying yet — we’d only just been kids at school together.”
“I’ve lost a few friends along the way, too.”
“The truth is,” said Elijah. “That from the moment you’re born, you’re dying. Everyone is. In here or out there. It’s how you deal with that fact that matters.”
“Jesus,” said Burk with a laugh. “This is the kinda shit I ain’t gonna miss when you’re gone.”
”I got another friend—“
”I don’t want to know, do I?”
”He works in a hospice. He says that the majority of people that come in, that all know they’re dying — that must know they’re going to die very soon — pretend that they’re perfectly fine and healthy. Total denial.”
”Weird.”
”Not that weird. You pretend you’re getting out of here.”
”Yeah but I am getting out.”
”Point is, maybe the best way to deal with dying is to just not think about it.”
A spider skittered over Elijah’s thigh. He watched it idly for a while wondering where it was heading. But it just sat there perfectly still on his knee. Elijah cupped the spider in his hands and stood up, got onto his bed and as near to the window as he could stretch, before letting the spider out.
The spider fell straight down onto the cell‘s floor.
Had it been dead before he picked it up?
The lights fizzed, hummed, flickered, and finally went out.
”Power cut,” said Burk, as he rattled the door. But the locks weren’t electric and it wasn’t going to make any difference to his predicament. After a while he gave up and settled back down on the darkening floor.
But maybe the cameras were off, Elijah thought. The microphones, too. “You got an appeal coming up, right?” Elijah asked.
”First of many. They ain’t sending me to the needle.”
Elijah considered for a while. It’s not that he was close to Burk, but they got on well enough. Burk wasn’t a bad person, he’d just done bad things. And the fact was this: Burk was likely the last person he could ever talk to about it.
“If you get out, will you go see my son?” he asked. “Please?”
”Your son? I didn’t even know you had one.”
”I got one. Real good kid.”
Burk shrugged. “Why would I do that?”
”I… I guess I don’t know why you would.”
“Well, if I did, what would I say to him?”
”That I love him,” said Elijah. “That I loved him until the very end.”
”What about your daughter? Don’t want to tell her that?”
”She knows.”
”And your son doesn’t kn— Oh, shit,” said Burk. “Shit. You didn’t kill anyone. Did you? It wasn’t you at all.“
Elijah didn’t reply.
For a while Burk said nothing. He just sat shaking his head. Eventually he said, “I guess we really will be going to different places in the end. I’ll send you a postcard.”
The lights flickered back to life. A creak sounded at the end of the corridor. Security or the warden on their way.
”I’ll tell him,” said Burk. “Hell, I couldn’t not now, could I?“
Elijah nodded. He swallowed back his tears. You never showed weakness in prison. Not even at the very end. ”Thanks.” | “Are you scared?” The meek, thin man asked, scooting closer to my side, trying to find some solace in the cold, bare cell. It was strange that he even wished to speak. We had spent at least an hour by each other’s side without a word and suddenly he wished to talk.
“Not really. I mean, maybe a little? I don’t know. You go through stages with it, I guess? Its weird, isn’t it, like turning off a light switch? That’s what the guard told me.” I wasn’t sure whether to laugh at the guard’s earlier comment or cry, something morbidly amusing about the ease with which thirty years of life would be erased.
“Right, yeah. I’m scared. How can’t a person be scared? You grow up being taught to avoid death. Don’t cross roads without looking, don’t touch spiders. Things like that and then suddenly you 're locked in a room and expected to keep calm. I’m trying to keep calm but part of me just wants to pull those bars open.”
“A frail man like you wouldn’t even make those bars budge.” I gave him a smirk, but he didn’t return one, huffing at my joke.
“Shut up, just because you look tough. Why do you think I kept my mouth shut earlier? I thought you would beat me if I spoke, but I’m not sure why that scared me. A beating can’t be worse than death, can it?”
“Depends on what a person breaks. You ever tried to breathe with a broken rib? Bastard of a thing. Teeth are one of the worst. When you feel it loosen, its just not a pleasant feeling. What are they killing you for, anyway? Filed some snobs taxes the wrong way?”
“Again, shut up. If you must know, I planned to assassinate a politician. A man called George Mallik. Did you not hear about it? It was a rather big story. I shot him in the shoulder.” The man asked, expecting some sort of applause from me, looking disappointed when I looked away.
“Must have been after my sentence, they don’t show us much tv in here. I heard something about a politician but there’s always a person cursing a politician in every sector of this prison, you just start drowning it out.”
“I see. Guess you had to be outside to notice it. What about you? Gang related? Drugs? Booze? What’s your sinful poison?” He said, prodding me for information, only to scoot back when I shot him a glare.
“Armed robbery gone wrong. I was going from state-to-state robbing stores, it was a nice little operation, but I got greedy. News spread about my actions, and soon shops began keeping weapons behind their registers. That didn’t stop me at first, the stores that kept weapons were far too few to be an issue and a person getting paid $20 an hour wasn’t about to be a hero.”
“So, what happened? Can’t have been that good of an operation if you got caught.” He teased, trying to get back at me for earlier, disheartened when I didn’t react to his prodding.
“Told you, I got greedy. I told myself I would get enough to keep my family fed, but then I got ambitious. Robbed one store too many and got a gun pulled on me. I didn’t even think, I shot the man dead where he was standing. Then I panicked and got into a shootout with the law. Think I killed two of them. You can probably guess how nicely they treated me when they got me away from cameras.”
“Oh, yes. I’m sure they offered you the water facial cleanse they gave me. It’s good at opening your pores and blocking your respiratory system.”
“You like telling jokes? Ever consider comedy rather than political assassination?”
“When I was younger, yes. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the wit for it. We could have made a good duo though; every two piece needs a straight man. You know, a stern face that rolls his eyes at the other’s humor?”
“Right, yeah. I think I’ve heard of it. Think I would rather take the needle then do comedy with you though. No offence, I just know which one sounds less painful.”
“A lot of offence taken. I could have raised you through Hollywood, we could have been something. Something more than this.” His hands clutched at his knees, gripping them.
“We all want to be somebody, don’t we?” I said, giving the man a pat on the back, one that startled him.
“I thought killing him would help people out. He wanted to remove the healthcare benefits for those that can’t afford proper treatment. I thought that would be my grand stand against the world, an ultimate act of defiance and yet it was a whimper.”
“An idealistic idiot.”
“Pardon?”
“An idealistic idiot. If you cared you would have signed petitions or promoted action healthily, not by shooting whoever you disagreed with. That’s just a petty excuse.” I stated, watching the man rise to his feet, gripping the scruff of my outfit.
“Listen here you. What makes you think any of that would have worked? People like him need to feel scared, they need to see the people won’t lay dormant. What about you? Robbing for your child while others struggle to feed their families after you steal from them.”
“I know what I did was-“ I went to fire up at the man, rising to my feet only to hear a clanging of metal outside, causing me to drop back onto the bench, the man following. “Sorry, I guess I’m an idealistic idiot too.”
“I’m sorry too. You wanted something better than I ever did. I hope your family is ok, if that’s any consolation. I’m sure your child will understand why you did what you did.”
“Hope she doesn’t. I don’t want her thinking that’s a good way to live. I hid some money for her, enough that it should give her the start her father never could.”
“I’m sure she will at least appreciate the gesture. Do you regret what you did?” The man asked, moving again closer to my side.
“I do. My parents weren’t great, and I wanted to give her what I never had. I wanted that sitcom family and in trying to do that I robbed her of a normal life. My father was a bastard, but he was at least around. I can’t say that for myself.”
“I didn’t have any family left, but I can imagine if anyone’s watching me from beyond the grave, they would be disappointed. They did everything they could to give me a good life, and I blew it away. I’m Paul, by the way, it was a pleasure to meet you.”
“Jeremy.” I responded, giving the man a nod. I could hear the heavy footsteps of a guard approaching our cell, causing my chest to stir with oxygen. “And Paul, I’m scared too.” I said before standing up, waiting for the guard to open the cell.
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-07-28T07:35:32 | 2021-07-28T07:21:55 | 278 | 24 |
[WP] You were told your gift for light magic was a blessing. Your wit and talent could make you into a legendary healer. But you're not a gentle person. The charred corpses of your enemies can attest to that. | They say light magic is only good for healing. You could make a small light, just enough to read at night. Maybe a flash of light to blind your enemy, giving you a chance to run. Fighting with it would be foolish, stick to being on the back lines and healing.
Those fools can’t even comprehend the power of light. If they understood just what I am capable of, they would treat me as a god and fear me just as much. They can only see the light with their eyes, but that is but a small portion of it. Some light moves through everything, not caring if it’s a person or a wall. Others will move through the fleshy parts of a person, only showing the bones and teeth of them.
This light is where my true power resides. My enemy gets nausea, most vomit, and lose control of their own arms and legs without ever knowing what hit them. The damage builds and builds until their body cannot keep going. Even if they escape, they only last a few more days. Their hair falls out, their organs fail. Those that manage to survive this, have permanent damage from facing off against me. Most of them even have their own body go out of control and kill them weeks, months or even years later. A curse fitting for facing off against the most powerful light wizard.
Those fools try to send assassins to bring me down, hiding themselves in the shadows. But their fleshy bodies are blindingly bright to me. I strike these fools before they even have a chance to approach me. However, sometimes an example must be set, something a little more showy. Boiling the blood out of a person always instill fear. However, the best option is to unleash divine wrath, smiting my enemy. I conjure up every light I can and focus it on a single person. A quick flash and there is nothing more than a charred corpse left. Not the most efficient use of magic, but all fear god. If they could understand my power, they would know to fear me and not some god. | There were maybe a dozen names for our kind. The Imbued or the Chosen, because it was thought some higher force must have imparted our gift to us. Causals, because the things we did seemed to defy any other form of cause. Weavers, because it seemed to many that we were weaving with the very forces that made up the world.
And of course some simply called it magic. I didn't know what to make of that term; I had always thought of magic as being crystal balls and Ouija boards and tarot cards and maybe the sleight of hand that stage performers used to entertain people. The gift I and others had, it was clearly something something else. Maybe they used that word because it was the word people used when they ran out of good explanations.
Thinkers and scholars had tried to explain to me how they thought it worked; something about pieces of things too small for the eye to see, that gave things their substance, and how they worked to make the darkness that held stars and galaxies together. I had only ever nodded along and pretended to understand.
Sometimes I wonder if I might not have preferred it if my gift *had* only been a talent with cheap trinkets and trickery.
\*\*\*\*\*
Our village was not big or grand, but it was better than many lived in after the Collapse. Some days the dense fog around the village would condense into low-forming thunderstorms, and the villagers had to flee indoors to avoid a lightning strike forming over their heads. But on other days the cloud cover would break and godrays would poke through, a luxury that most could not enjoy these days.
On good days the walls of scrap and wreckage could keep out marauders. This was not one of those days.
The pillagers came in with their tattooed skins and sharpened teeth and blackened eyes and cruel metal, and to make matters worse the one leading the horde was a Weaver. The very darkness that held stars together was in his hands; he could make a cloak of it to hide himself, or a shield from the air, or simply scatter and hurl things without so much as a touch.
My gift was not like his, exactly. Instead of darkness I could tap into light; perhaps it was the light that had been there at the moment of creation. I did not know. I had only seen a few who worked in that way. Light had to be woven delicately; while darkness concealed, light inspired, uplifted, or, as I used it myself, healed and sustained the injured.
The marauder clearly believed this meant I was not able to defend myself.
I imagine he learned his lesson split milliseconds before the light incinerated him and his group. | 2021-08-21T10:25:27 | 2021-08-21T09:52:56 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] Occasionally ships in deep space going undergoing faster than light travel just go missing, a tragic but well known and accepted fact. One ship managed to come back however years after disappearance with extremely disturbing reports | “What am I looking at here?” Captain Michaels asked, looking not at what he referenced but at the lone figure before him.
The man, the Fleet officer, sat silently in the middle of the spartan compartment, staring past Captain Michaels at the projection shimmering across the far bulkhead.
“Captain Tyler,” Michaels said, placing himself in between the old officer and the projection. “What is going on here?”
Michaels watched, waiting for the man to say something, to do anything but stare at the glittering holo. Michaels felt a chill run up his spine at the black, blank hollowness in the eyes of the otherwise nondescript man.
Tyler was freshly shaven and washed, his outdated officers uniform replaced with a simple jet black undersuit. The neurological tests came back normal. Nothing explained the catatonia. Nothing explained why he was alone in the crewless decks and corridors of the ASN Excelcior, found drifting in deep space on the far end of the galaxy, two centuries after its maiden voyage of exploration.
Nothing explained the vid capture they found Tyler with. The capture playing out behind Michaels now.
Michaels felt a pulse in his ear.
“Go,” he said, turning away from the still man.
“Captain,” his XOs voice rang in his ear. “We’ve ran the stellar data gathered from the Excelior’s sensors and nav logs.”
“And?” Michaels prodded, keenly aware of the presence behind him.
“Our specialists have run it through every know star chart and came back negative, sir, it doesn’t match any known stellar formation yet observed by the Alliance, including any of those that could be triangulated at the Excelior’s last know location prior to it’s disappearance and where we located it.”
“Taking into account the time disparity?” Michaels asked.
“Yes sir, stellar drift was accounted for.” His XO said.
Michaels sighed. Long moments passed as the line stayed open.
“And the…log time?”
His XO took a moment to answer. “AI algorithms are still trying to determine the…precise length of the data, but-“
“What’s their estimate, Locke?”
“They estimate it to be several hundred thousand years, sir, and with no detectable evidence of tampering.”
“They heard you!”
Michaels jolted at the sudden yell.
“They heard you! They heard you! They heard you!”
Michaels turned to see the black eyed man looking directly at him, in the same position and place as before. His eyes were disturbingly still. Only his mouth moved, belting the same phrase over and over.
“Captain!” He heard his XO calling in his ear.
“It’s fine,” Michaels said. This was the most they had gotten from the man in three days.
“Captain Tyler!” Michaels said, trying to be heard over the man.
“They heard you! They heard you! They heard you!”
Michaels moved toward him, realizing then that though he seemed to be referring to Michaels, his dead eyes were still focused on the innocuous star field, as though he were incapable of seeing anything else.
He wasn’t sure about engaging the deranged officer in his sudden irrational ranting, but it was the only opening they had so far.
Michaels came up beside the old Captain, “Who Tyler, who are they?”
Tyler continued on as if he hadn’t heard him.
“They heard you! They heard you!”
As the hairs on his arms prickled and something like fear tingled in his gut, Michaels had enough.
“Damn you, Tyler!” Michaels yelled, grabbing the man’s face and turning it towards him. “Tell me, Tyler, tell me, who the hell are they?!”
This close to those cold black eyes, Michaels could see something, something he couldn’t before. Something the old officer had seen once, before and again.
“Captain!” The XOs voice still rang in his ear, unanswered.
The man was silent now.
“They heard you.”
In the deep, dead starless dark, Michaels heard them too…
Far beyond the little ship, dwarfed into nothingness by the endless stellar fields surrounding them and unseen by all, another burning star at the edge of the universe went out. | [Part 1 of 2]
Few things could make a galaxy standstill, but today everyone held their breaths. There wasn’t a single holo screen or window not occupied by an alien of some sort, each one looking on in awe as the Galactic Ranger descended into the port of Docking Bay 12.
“The Galactic Ranger? Id tag 200498? That exact ship with captain Cole Reyne?” Eric Cotter kept his hand cupped over his ear, trying to drown out the murmuring voices around him as he made his way to the docking bay.
“Yes. There’s no mistaking it. The tags are all verified by your signature. If it were a forgery, it would be under the current administrator’s signature, not yours.” Abigail said, the hint of a tapping keypad following her voice as she desperately brought up whatever information she thought was necessary.
“That confirms it. If it’s under my tag, it’s the official ship. How the hell did they escape the void? Did you try to hail the ship?” Eric asked, placing his keycard against the docking bay door, waiting for the metallic doors to open.
“I did but.” Her voice waned as she tried to find the words. “They called me a fake, said I wasn’t the real me.”
“Cole said that? Cole was always a pain in Eric’s airlock, but he wasn’t the type to say things like that. Look, I’ll speak to him and then we can get some medics out to give them an assessment. It’s safe to assume they have been floating through the void all those years. It would affect anyone.”
As the doors hissed open, Cole ended the call, watching as the Ranger connected to the station’s access port. When the port hooked into place, the ship came to a full stop, allowing Cole a chance to assess the horrific state of the Ranger.
The ship had once been the pride and joy of humanity. One of Earth’s oldest ships that the council refused to throw away. So, like a cherished stuffed bear, humanity would stitch it up with new parts whenever it fell apart and do whatever it could to prolong its decommissioning.
Sadly, no amount of love could fix this ship. Its engines were a crumbling mess, close to falling off the back of the ship’s exterior. The windows had cracks, long drawn-out markings showing just how close the windows were to giving under the pressure of space travel. Another week or two and the crew would have been stiff corpses floating in the void. Its earthy green and blue paint job stripped entirely off its exterior, leaving a grey shell of metal.
“So, this is what the void does to a ship?” Eric reached into his pocket, about to grab his badge, only to slip it back into place. Cole knew who he was. He didn’t need a flashy introduction. He was dealing with Cole, not some drunken alien who docked at the wrong station. Cole would know station security when he saw it.
Five minutes passed after the port was hooked, then another ten. Eric tried to spot someone in the ship’s windows, wondering what was taking them so long. Docking was a standard procedure. Even the dumbest pilots could get a ship docked in five minutes and yet an experienced crew was struggling. When it hit the thirty-minute point, Eric stepped through the thin tube, making his way to the ship’s airlock.
“Cole? It’s Eric Cotter. I’m the person who gave you your permit last time you were here. Do you remember me? If so, can you please come out? I want to talk to you.” As Cole spoke, he could hear the buzzing of a news drone, the small white sphere blinding Cole with its yellow light, trying to get the best shots. Cole wished he could break the stupid thing, but that would be a grim look with so many people watching. Instead, he reached for his badge, pointing it at the drone. The drone hovered in place for a moment before backing away, getting the message.
With the drone finally gone, Eric could hear chatter. Hushed voices hid behind the airlock, conversing in private thanks to the thick metal between them. When the voices stopped, the airlock let out a gush of compressed air, slipping open to reveal Cole.
Cole stared blankly at Eric; his bloodshot eyes diluted as his gaze fell on every part of the docking bay that wasn’t Eric. His beard long and grizzled, while his twitchy fingers grasped at the air in front of him, looking entirely lost.
“Cole, what happened to you?” Eric reached forward to touch the man’s shoulder only for his attention to snap to Eric, gripping his wrist, slamming it against the airlock, threatening to break it.
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/q56fcg/wp_occasionally_ships_in_deep_space_going/hg3vglw/) | 2021-10-10T07:27:37 | 2021-10-10T06:40:54 | 157 | 59 |
[WP] While magic is real, it cannot affect "normies". Nor can they see it. You can cast a huge explosion and only other magically gifted people will be hurt. Buildings/objects constructed by normies are unaffected. You have been waging a secret war with Kevin from HR for years. |
I’ve always dreaded going into work on Mondays, and today was no different. Walking up to the office building, I could already see Kevin’s greetings emblazoned across its front in bold, red letters.
“Welcome to the pain zone!”
Urgh, The font choice and frankly unimaginative copy hurt my soul. But what could you expect from a guy in HR? Though it was impressively executed, like globules of blood coagulating on the building, a dripping droplet so heavy and poignant that it looked like it was giving birth to some sort of weird, gory baby.
Awful taste, great execution. I waved my hands in what many would interpret as one chasing away an errant yawn, but it quickly wiped the building clean. I didn’t love my workplace, but it wouldn’t do for any other magical being to see this frank and offensive message. Most people will never suspect, nor spy it—certainly not a single person in the entire office, who have managed to be painfully unaware of my magic battle with Kevin—but better safe than sorry.
Pushing past the doors revealed a smiling adversary, who apparently had no better thing to do than to wait for the exact moment I pulled myself into the warzone and potential grave of my office building.
“Percy,” Kevin smiled, so snivelling that it would have given a cartoon villain the shivers.
“I don’t have time to deal with you, Kevin,” I said. “I have work to do.”
It was a lie, of course. Warfare was as much of the mind as it was of my magical abilities. With a small incantation under my breath, Kevin would find a small plague of frogs in his usual coffee cup. I only wished I could see his reaction.
Kevin followed me into a throng of people, but they were instead gazing off absent-mindedly at anything but the elevator that arrived with a loud ding. Another spell. I sighed, but entered with him anyway. Within seconds, the metal quickly turned oppressive around us, and they twisted and girded like they were being crushed into shape by the gravity from a black hole. He had cast a truth spell on the surrounding walls, ready to crush me at a moment’s notice.
“Did you put frogs into my water bottle again?”
“No,” I said, technically not lying. Unpredictability in at least one facet was key to throwing people off.
The steel relaxed, settling back into place, like nothing had ever happened.
“It’s our seventh anniversary, you know,” Kevin whispered.
“I didn’t forget,” I said. “It’s just this client…”
“What deadline are you rushing?” Kevin asked. “You know we need to continue waging war. But you don’t seem to be reciprocating as much.”
“This account is a tough one,” I said, rubbing my temple. Compared to my new client, using magic was practically a soothing ointment to a perennial migraine. “I’m sorry, alright? It’s pretty much all I can do to undo your spells.”
“Corporate clockwork gets to us all,” Kevin snorted. “I’ve had to juggle internal corporate crises too. Like, seriously, why can’t they just get their act together?”
“Work, work, work,” I chuckled. “It keeps changing, and yet it stays the same. I wonder why I even come into this office any more.”
“Me too,” Kevin said.
The doors dinged once more, and opened up to his floor. He tapped me on the shoulder briefly, before heading out.
“Good luck,” he said.
“Of course,” I replied, before the doors quickly slammed on me. My vision stated turning red, and all sorts of guns, from sleek assault rifles to old-timey revolvers began growing out of the elevators, pointing their barrels at me.
“Of course,” I muttered. “My fault for thinking he was actually trying to be nice this time.”
I exited on my floor, riddled with bullets. My iron skin, quickly put into place, absorbed most of the damage, but my colleagues didn’t seem to mind my tattered clothes and smoky hair. I settled into my chair, and opened up the computer to what felt like a thousand emails. Without fail, there was the client, demanding amendments to anything and everything within five minutes of each other, somehow accomplishing the lightspeed feat of sending three emails a second.
But it was Kevin’s that I opened first.
“Liar,” was all it wrote, but it brought me a smile. An email making me smile. Imagine that.
That little morsel of dopamine helped. Corporate is clockwork, but magic is… well, magic.
---
r/dexdrafts | Today the Dairy Queen parking lot will burn. There will be fire and brimstone, devastation on scales unimaginable to normie minds. Three things will occur:
1. My in-office preeminence will be established beyond doubt.
2. Rebecca in accounting will be *so* impressed when we get back to the office.
3. Kevin Anderson’s lunch will be ruined.
Some might call me a madman for what I am about to do. Those normies would be wrong. The acts I have wrought go beyond today, backwards and forwards in time; my kind are not subject to your feeble imaginations. We simply are: blades in the night and the kings of that which lingers on the fringes of the day. Our actions cannot be seen by the feeble-minded or perceived by the weak willed. We are beyond their assessment.
We are wizards. It’s pretty awesome.
I sit in the driver’s seat of my old CRV, left hand against the furnace-warmth of the heater, the confluence of lines in my right palm pressed against the remnants of Taco Bell fire sauce slathered on the wrapping of my burrito. I planned my lunch carefully, timed it. I am not a slave to my routines and cravings as Kevin Anderson is.
I can see him in the rearview mirror, eating. Disgusting man. Rebecca will be so impressed when we return.
I fix Kevin’s beady eyes and long mustache into my mind. It does not take much effort anymore, our war has been long standing and brutal.
But today the Dairy Queen parking lot will burn.
I take a deep breath, gathering the heat to me. Both my hands are on fire, especially my right. Taco Bell’s fire sauce is potent, I believe they have changed the formula.
I can see the hated face in my mind, my rival, the great worm of Lighthouse Gaskets and Supply. Kevin, I am coming for you!
Channel the heat. Shape it. Direct it. I speak the magic words, pour fire forth across the lot.
“Fuck you, Kevin,” I say.
I’m out the door in a flash, long steps eating up the asphalt. I’m there suddenly, tearing open Kevin’s door. The magic hits in the same instant, the wave of fire assaulting his wards, burning Kevin Anderson to nothingness, all my power concentrated on this point!
His blizzard turns to water in his hands and Kevin squeals, it’s hot. He drops the paper cup and it spills across his lap, across the faux-leather seats of his early mid-life crisis: a pink wave of sprinkles and synthetic strawberry. He is screaming. It is delicious.
“I fucking got you!” I shout.
“Damnit Felix, what the hell!” Kevin shouts back. “You know how much I need this!”
“Hah!” I say, “Kevin Anderson, brought low by my righteous fury, by the purifying flames of my hatred. Kevin Anderson, the miscreant, the devil! Kevin, shall we go back to the office? I can’t wait until Rebecca sees you now.”
Heels clack behind me and I turn. Rebecca.
“Felix, what are you doing here?” she sighs. Then she sees. “Kev, you okay?”
“Yeah,” Kevin says, rifling through the glove box for napkins. “Yeah, I’m just fucking dandy over here. That was a good blizzard too.”
“I bet. Guess I’m lucky the kid behind the counter messed mine up.” Rebecca has a blizzard in her hands as well. Toffee and fudge.
“You’d have been fine anyway,” Kevin says. “It only affects wizards.”
Rebecca makes a face as she sits down in the passenger seat. “You should try witchcraft instead, the rules make way more sense.”
“If I ever find an opt-out clause in Felix’s bullshit I just might,” Kevin says. He is looking into the empty blizzard cup like a man gone to the firing squad. Even Rebecca sitting next to him cannot cheer him up.
It stumps me however. I am flummoxed. Enormously perplexed. Gargantuanly confused. Point two of the three point list has failed. Rebecca is both not in the office and not impressed. In fact, she is being unimpressed from Kevin Anderson's passenger seat. The world makes no sense.
“How bad is the line?” Kevin asks, his world still revolves around the empty cup.
Rebecca squeezes his hand. “It’s pretty bad, sorry.”
“Yeah. I guess we should be getting back.” Kevin looks up at me, all the hate and fire in the world focused down to the point of those beady eyes. “Fuck you, Felix,” his says, “I thought Dairy Queen was neutral, man.”
The last thing I hear before the doors close is Rebecca saying “we can share mine.”
In the aftermath of the fire my world feels cold. Point two has failed. Rebecca was in the car.
Today I was a wizard, and it was not awesome.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-11-15T11:38:08 | 2021-11-15T11:10:54 | 333 | 184 |
[WP] A woman discovers a horrifying collection of VHS tapes in a landfill, each showing a disaster in the future she can try to prevent. | Abby Weyerhauser could see the future.
Not in her *head,* like dreams or visions. She could see it on her grandpa's old 19" CRT TV / VCR combo. The TV was one of the few things she'd been able to salvage from the rural landfill where the majority of her late grandfather's things were taken after his death. That, a few personal effects, and a box of meticulously hand-labeled VHS tapes.
At first, Abby had thought the box was just a collection of old news stories her Grandpa had decided to record for some reason. One tape contained cable news footage from New York City on 9/11, another had reports on the Space Shuttle Columbia disaster in 2003, then Hurricane Katrina in '05, the Fukushima Daichi nuclear accident in 2011, and other disasters she recalled.
But then she'd found the tapes showing news reports on disasters that *hadn't* happened. At least not yet.
She couldn't believe it, when she'd first watched the news footage of a train derailment that, according to the date of the news story, wouldn't take place for almost a week. But the more she re-watched it, the more she was convinced it couldn't have been faked.
It was too clean, too *complete,* right down to having full *commercial breaks.* Even with modern video editing software, deepfakes, and everything, it would have taken a massive budget to fabricate something like that. Abby's Grandpa, God rest him, could barely send an email, and he had been on a fixed income. There was no way he could have produced something like this.
In the end, when the day approached, she'd decided she had to do *something.* According to the news, after the derailment, it was discovered that the derailment was due to human error. Key personnel aboard the train had been drunk or hung over, it seemed, having overindulged at a party in the wee hours of the morning, shortly before the train was set to depart.
So, she called someone in charge on a prepaid cellphone, posing as a co-worker who'd been interviewed on the news after the fact. Abby reported the condition of the crew well before the train was scheduled to depart, and said she was afraid they were a danger to themselves and their passengers.
She'd figured that, if it was all somehow a hoax, someone would make them blow into a breathalyzer or something, see that they weren't impaired, and there'd be no lasting harm done.
Then she'd watched, biting her nails, her heart pounding, as the time of the report ticked closer and closer. And finally, it passed uneventfully.
The disaster didn't happen as scheduled. She wasn't sure what that meant, at first -- had she really changed the future? But when she played the tape back again, to make certain she'd gotten the date right, she found that it was now *blank.*
Since then, Abby had come to know two terrifying truths: one, that somehow, her grandfather had collected video tapes of horrific future disasters. And two, that *she* somehow had to stop them.
Oh, she *wanted* that second one not to be true, desperately so. In fact, once she had been convinced the train derailment tape was real, she'd immediately resolved to hand the tapes over to the government, the FBI -- *anyone* but her. This was way out of her league.
But while she was sorting through them in preparation to take them to the authorities, she'd found one she hadn't noticed before. There was no date on it, just a single word: *Abby.* She'd put it in the tape and played it, of course.
It wasn't news footage, not this time. It looked like it had been recorded by pointing a camcorder at a computer screen that was playing a YouTube video. On the screen, a portly, red-faced man she thought she recognized as a perennial conspiracy nutjob was on a half-screaming rant about chemtrails and frog reproduction -- the sort of nonsense you hear all the time online, and learn to just tune out. But then she heard him say something that chilled her blood.
*...you're telling me these people aren't evil, that they aren't literally demons?! You think you can trust the feds? Tell that to Abby Weyerhauser! Who's that, you ask? Oh, you won't hear about Abby from the mainstream media, folks! This girl out East, somehow she found some kind of intel she wasn't supposed to know about! What did she do? She didn't forward it straight to Wikileaks, she didn't try to sell it to Russia or China like half the bastards running things in DC would have! No, she tried to be a good little citizen! Decided to turn what she found in to the so-called proper authorities! The very next day, Abby turns up dead under 'mysterious circumstances'! We wouldn't know about it at all, if she hadn't asked for advice on some legal forums before calling the feds! She'd be just another unsolved murder! See, this is exactly what I've been saying...*
Abby's heart was already pounding out of her chest. And it wasn't over yet.
On the video, an arm reached into the frame, and clicked the mouse, pausing the YouTube video being recorded off the computer screen, before moving back out of sight again. And then, she heard her grandfather's tired, raspy voice.
"Abby...I'm so sorry to put this on you. I wish I had more time to explain. It isn't fair that you have to carry this burden in the first place -- much less that you can't trust anyone to share the load. All I can say is--"
The tape had ended there, leaving Abby well and truly on her own. | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc 6, Part 8: Clara Olsen v.s. The Future)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**You always found the best things in the garbage.** Oh, sure, you wouldn't be digging up any Anhertz-class battleships or million-dollar cars—but you found things with stories, things that had seen use, things from the bargain bin that still had a spark of life. That was how I'd grown my legacy: trash pile by trash pile, lovingly picking up the refuse and dusting it off until it shone.
Until now, though, it had rarely been so literal.
"We've got a city in chaos," Mare said. "What're we out back in a dumpster for?"
I idly tapped the knife that Mare had shown me how to use as I looked around. "Your question is your answer," I said. "Anyone smart enough to see the fall of Sacrament coming would have fled before it hit. Anyone who could see the future—anyone who had any glimpse of prophecy—they would've left before this city became a burnt-out wreck."
"Which is a shame," Mare said, "because we sure could use a little future knowledge right now. But what's your point?"
"My point," I said, unslinging the knife from my belt and cutting through wrecked cars and fallen bricks as if they were cardboard, "is that exactly one lunar month before the city fell into ruin, there was a small spike in emigration."
Mare's eyes narrowed. "One lunar month... that's the minimum span for most oracular revelations."
"Exactly," I said. "Now, all the *truly* powerful oracles probably buggered off this continent years before the Feds took over and made life hell, but the ones in between—the ones who only had a little warning before things went bad—they gave themselves away when they skipped town. And my bet is that they left *plenty* of things behind. Who knows? I'd sure as hell reward any fortune-tellers who were wise enough to leave us a gift, and I'm sure their futuresight would show it. So if I'm right, somewhere around here should be—*aha!*" As I cut through the detritus of the junk heap, I found the pristine remains of a thrown-out mailbox. The address on it—Claywood 443—matched the largest hub of emigrants and potential clairvoyants that I'd found.
Mare snuck up beside me, their posture suspicious. "There's a lot of people who want you dead, too. Could just as easily be that they've left you a booby trap."
"Which is why you're here." I poked them with the hilt of the knife. "Come on. Pop that thing open."
Mare sighed and flipped the lid. There was nothing inside but a handful of VHS tapes.
"Huh," I said.
Mare withdrew them. "If you're not sure what these are, they were a type of data storage used before the silicon revolution—"
"I'm not a baby. I know what a VHS tape is," I said, kicking a piece of rubble his way. "C'mon, I got the kit to play these back at base."
I retreated to the small office complex that Mare had turned into an impromptu center of command and into the storage rooms, where some of the more esoteric stuff we'd salvaged from the ruined city had shown up.
"Let's see... ah. Gotcha." I took out the old VHS player and dusted it off.
The first tape was simply labeled *03/19/2051.* A little less than a month from today. I fiddled with the VHS player and it hummed to life, showing us—
*—a second, too-large, burning-red sun—*
*—a being of myth in a blood-soaked cape—*
—*armadas of foreign ships filling the skies—*
Just as quickly as it started, the psychedelic stream of images ended.
I hadn't made much sense of it, but Mare's expression immediately darkened.
"What is it?" I asked them.
They scowled. "Sunrise King. Invasion force. Last time this happened, an entire country imploded."
Oh, God. They were referring to the collapse of the Middle Communes. Something of that magnitude happening again would—no. No, the future was always in flux. I'd go over the tape in more detail later, try and pick apart every detail it held. In the meantime, I'd look at the rest of the tapes. The second one read *02/27/2051.* About a week from now. I slotted the tape in, preparing myself for the same barrage of chaos and death—
—*a blood-red blade cutting a hole through the world—*
—*a ragtag militia buying heartbeats as they charged into a federal-uniformed firing line—*
—*the cold fury of a man who had nothing left to lose—*
—and I jerked back, reaching for the knife at my belt.
"That was—that was my—"
"Clara," Mare said, something very small in their voice.
"What?" I asked.
They held up the last tape.
*02/20/2051.*
That was now.
That was *right fucking now.*
Hesitantly, I let the tape play out its final prediction—
*—guns on a ship looming impossibly large—*
—*orbital bombardment dispensed from the skies—*
—*an already-wrought city, reduced to so much ash—*
Pieces clicked together in my mind.
"Wait!" Mare shouted, as I dashed for door and looked to the sky, heart thudding.
A shadow crawling over the horizon confirmed my worst fears.
As the first *whump*s of gunfire sounded in the distance, I knew that the predicted apocalypse had already begun.
A.N.
"Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2022-05-09T01:02:16 | 2022-05-08T21:21:10 | 34 | 19 |
[WP] "Oh, screw you! Don't blame the science department for this mess. The science went PERFECTLY. It's not OUR fault that corporate decided to skimp out on the compound's security and containment systems" | "Oh, screw you! Don't blame the science department for this mess. The science went PERFECTLY. It's not OUR fault that corporate decided to skimp out on the compound's security and containment systems!" Dr. Bentley said, hotly, jabbing a finger at Miranda, the corporate liason.
"Uh, *excuse me?*" Miranda hissed, narrowing her eyes and slapping her palms down on the table, angrily. *"Skimp out?* I've been busting my ass for *two years,* getting corporate to shovel more and more funding into this *money furnace!* I've been going to bat for this damned project since before you had anything more to show for your little dimensional travel theories than some half-assed equations scribbled on a whiteboard!"
She whirled to face Jenkins, the head of Project Engineering. "And you! I got *you* more than enough money for security and containment! What the hell did you spend it all on, *blow and hookers?"*
Jenkins scowled, "Don't even start! I left more than *half* that money in the budget unused, to cover projected cost overruns! You're the one who kept saying we needed keep costs under control!" He turned to Bentley. "And it's not like *Dr. Numbnuts,* over here, gave me *any* indication that we'd have to secure and contain--"
"Enough!" Thomas, the Operations Director roared, slamming a fist down on the table. The rest of the attendees were immediately silenced, as the middle-aged senior VP in charge of the project withered each of them with his implacable gaze.
"We can play the *blame game* later, you morons!" Thomas growled. "*This* meeting, right now, is about one thing, and one thing *only..."*
He paused, glanced under the conference table, and grimaced at what he saw. Reaching down, he seized hold of something that squeaked in protest as he grabbed it, and then dropped it roughly onto the tabletop.
It was a little man with pointed ears and a long beard, about three feet tall, dressed in colorful clothing and a tall pointy hat. The tiny interloper glared around the table, angrily, and shot them a rude gesture with both hands.
"...what in the *f\*\*\** are we going to do with all these *gnomes?"* Thomas demanded. | The yelling would fall on deaf ears, however. The emergency sirens blared in the background, making conversation virtually impossible. The man stared ahead, in shock at what was happening.
The three men had locked themselves in one of the remaining rooms. Some*thing* had escaped. The doctor with them wouldn't say a word. Its escape had led to a total lockdown, which was apparently something that corporate had actually invested in. Sirens blared and the doors locked after twenty minutes. They assumed the workers could get out in time- you only needed your keycard to get out before the twenty minute mark. After the twenty minute mark, corporate fully locked the doors and hoped that you had gotten out in time. It had been sixteen minutes.
The countdown hadn't even started before the thing had gone after anyone in its sight. If it even had sight. The sounds were horrendous. Running through the halls and seeing the aftermath, it was like the compound had ordered itself a new paintjob.
Trying to figure out which way to go while simultaneously minimizing the chances of being caught, their conversation in the room had devolved into an argument. *Can't we do this later?* he thought, his foot tapping the floor anxiously. *We're all going to die.*
Suddenly, one of the other guys swung around and shouted, "Alright! Let's get out of here!" He grinned, hopeful at the breakthrough. Then, the sirens changed. Things got ... quiet. Eerily quiet. "What's going on?" It was jarring to hear someone talking so clearly. The doctor's face had turned pale. "It's been twenty minutes." "What happens after twenty minutes?" The doctor turned to face the third man, but before he could speak, multiple clanks were heard, all throughout the compound. "Shit," the man muttered. All the doors had locked themselves shut- locking us inside with that thing.
Then, the lights shut off. He hadn't known that that was part of the procedure. Slowly, the compound encased itself in darkness.
They sat there for a while, thinking. What was there to do at this point? Suddenly, the light at the top of their room started to buzz to life. It wasn't much, but it was happening. They could start to make out each other's outlines. Suddenly, something appeared next to them. They couldn't fully see it, as it was still in the shadows, but they knew it was there. It was like the thing had phased through the walls, but that wasn't what had happened. It just ... appeared. They each had a look of exhaustion and resignation. The doctor whispered, "It uses the light, and it dies in the dark. Hence, the plan was to have the outside office shut the lights off."
The first man asked the question on everyone's mind.
"What is it?"
The doctor was quiet, and then he whispered something, his voice shaking.
"I don't know."
The thing moved into the light. What it was was so horrifying and so terrible that their deaths were a mercy, even if it took a while for death to come. They stared at the thing, eyes wide in fear. They didn't move.
The thing moved. | 2022-05-09T13:44:04 | 2022-05-09T13:05:50 | 102 | 17 |
[WP] At dinner, you serve the king a glass of wine with poison in it. He sips from it and continues to eat as usual. At the end of the meal, he walks up to you and says. "Next time you make poison, make sure it really works. It was pathetic." | "...uh...ok, my leige" I said, confused. The king clapped me on the back and let out a large belch, before retiring to his chambers.
How had he known? Why did he drink it all? And why did he tell me? Most importantly, why was I still alive?
I heard a deep throat clearing noise from behind me. I turned, and found myself eye-to-eyepatch with an old man, leaning on a gnarled staff as lumpy as he was. His one remaining grey eye looked me up and down before addressing me.
"I suppose I can work with you", he said, then turned and began walking. "Follow me."
I was even more confused now. Who the hell was this?
My questions were interrupted by a swift blow to the back of my legs. I jumped in pain from the sting, but remained on my feet.
"Follow him", the castle guard ordered, readying his spear for another blow.
"Ouch, ok, I'll go" I said, backing away from the armed guard. Apparently everyone but me knew what I was supposed to do.
I took off after the one eyed man, quickly catching up to him. It wasn't a great feat, the man was quite slow. His walking staff tapped a precise metronome tone as he walked down corridors, stairs, and halls alike.
We finally arrived at the bottom of a particularly dark, damp stairwell. "In here, apprentice" he said, shoving the door open with his staff.
I looked at the man, puzzled. "What?" I asked. Too many questions fought to be first, so none of them ended up being asked.
The one eyed man fixed his functioning eye on me. "The king gave you to me. You tried to kill him. You failed. Your life is forfeit. Instead of giving it to the hangman, he gave your life to me. You are my apprentice, my ward, mine until you are a master in your own rights." He strode in to the darkened room. I followed.
"A master of what?" I asked. The man lit an oil lamp, casting a dim orange light about the room. Bottles of varied sizes, shapes and colors reflected the light, sending a kaleidoscope of color all around us.
The man poured two glasses of water and handed me one. "Drink it", he commanded, and consumed his own beverage. I complied.
"A master of poisons", he said. "Much like the one you just drank."
I spat out my last mouthful, gasping. "WHAT-"
"That poison will kill you in 15 hours", he said, interrupting me mid scream. "Unless you drink the antidote. Your first lesson, apprentice, is how to brew that antidote."
r/SlightlyColdStories for the celebration of my 60th story! 🥳
Edit: Expanding this story on Wattpad, same username as here with the working title "Master of Poisons". I'll publish each chapter as I go. | “I’m sorry, milord. It’s just…”
The king smiled, “there’s no need to worry about me, Lirrin. I asked this of you so I could be ready for a real assassination. I need you to honor my command in this matter.”
Lirrin nodded, “Of course, your Majesty. It’s just… what if I don’t deliver the antidote in time or I give the wrong person the poison or I-”
The king stopped them, “Lirrin, calm down.”
“S-sorry, I’ll try, sir.”
“I chose you for this task because I know how capable you are. Should you perform a mishap, that’s a lapse in my skill of judgment, nothing more. But I do not believe it will be.”
“I appreciate the confidence, my king. Though I have never had this much responsibility before.”
“That’s because others failed to recognize your talents. They underestimated you because you don’t exude confidence.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Confidence is a tricky thing, too much or too little can be harmful to one’s ego. Though if you do well at this task, which I am certain you will, perhaps your confidence in your ability will match said ability.”
“So confidence should match one’s ability?”
“Indeed.”
“Then it appears you’ve mastered that balance. You are quite confident, your Majesty.”
“There’s no need for flattery, Lirrin.”
“It wasn’t flattery, my king. I merely speak the truth. It was your tactics that won the most recent war, after all.”
The king smiled, “I still like to think it was my lucky sword.”
Lirrin’s eyes widened, “do you have that sword, sir? I’d very much like to see it?”
“Indeed I do,” his Majesty brought out the legendary weapon, holding it out for Lirrin to observe. Lirrin drew closer for a moment, before retreating. The king chuckled, “there’s no need to be so cautious. You may handle it if you so wish.”
Lirrin gasped and felt the heft of the blade in his hands, eyes darting up at the king, “it’s a marvelous weapon, what was the story of its victory, again? I know I have heard it before, everyone has, but to hear it from your tongue…”
The king smirked, “say no more. It was a cool foggy winter evening when it happened, the sun was setting and the-”
His Majesty gasped, feeling the pointed tip of the sword against his chest. Lirrin gulped, “how was that for an assassination attempt?”
The king smiled, “my my… appealing to my ego. You had my right where you wanted me the entire time, didn’t you?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, but I did take advantage of the opportunity.”
“I knew you were the one for this job. I’ll have to be more vigilant!”
Kirrin smiled. The job would by no means be easy, but if they excelled in their work and kept the king on his toes, it might even save him from a real assassination one day. And that, that was something to be proud of. | 2022-06-03T16:34:22 | 2022-06-03T16:10:34 | 1,988 | 345 |
[WP] At dinner, you serve the king a glass of wine with poison in it. He sips from it and continues to eat as usual. At the end of the meal, he walks up to you and says. "Next time you make poison, make sure it really works. It was pathetic." | “I’m sorry, milord. It’s just…”
The king smiled, “there’s no need to worry about me, Lirrin. I asked this of you so I could be ready for a real assassination. I need you to honor my command in this matter.”
Lirrin nodded, “Of course, your Majesty. It’s just… what if I don’t deliver the antidote in time or I give the wrong person the poison or I-”
The king stopped them, “Lirrin, calm down.”
“S-sorry, I’ll try, sir.”
“I chose you for this task because I know how capable you are. Should you perform a mishap, that’s a lapse in my skill of judgment, nothing more. But I do not believe it will be.”
“I appreciate the confidence, my king. Though I have never had this much responsibility before.”
“That’s because others failed to recognize your talents. They underestimated you because you don’t exude confidence.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Confidence is a tricky thing, too much or too little can be harmful to one’s ego. Though if you do well at this task, which I am certain you will, perhaps your confidence in your ability will match said ability.”
“So confidence should match one’s ability?”
“Indeed.”
“Then it appears you’ve mastered that balance. You are quite confident, your Majesty.”
“There’s no need for flattery, Lirrin.”
“It wasn’t flattery, my king. I merely speak the truth. It was your tactics that won the most recent war, after all.”
The king smiled, “I still like to think it was my lucky sword.”
Lirrin’s eyes widened, “do you have that sword, sir? I’d very much like to see it?”
“Indeed I do,” his Majesty brought out the legendary weapon, holding it out for Lirrin to observe. Lirrin drew closer for a moment, before retreating. The king chuckled, “there’s no need to be so cautious. You may handle it if you so wish.”
Lirrin gasped and felt the heft of the blade in his hands, eyes darting up at the king, “it’s a marvelous weapon, what was the story of its victory, again? I know I have heard it before, everyone has, but to hear it from your tongue…”
The king smirked, “say no more. It was a cool foggy winter evening when it happened, the sun was setting and the-”
His Majesty gasped, feeling the pointed tip of the sword against his chest. Lirrin gulped, “how was that for an assassination attempt?”
The king smiled, “my my… appealing to my ego. You had my right where you wanted me the entire time, didn’t you?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, but I did take advantage of the opportunity.”
“I knew you were the one for this job. I’ll have to be more vigilant!”
Kirrin smiled. The job would by no means be easy, but if they excelled in their work and kept the king on his toes, it might even save him from a real assassination one day. And that, that was something to be proud of. | Nobbins was one of the more simple creatures in Hell. He never did anything particularly bad per say in life, but he did accidentally piss off a priest and ended up there. And because of that, Nobbins really did not fit in whatsoever. He took to a bit of petty theft in the underworld, but that was nothing in a land of psychopaths and serial killers. With all of this there isn’t really a need to say it, but Nobbins wasn’t very happy in the situation that presented itself. He was constantly harassed for his small stature and lack of violent taste and was always undermined when it came to societal things.
However, Nobbins was smart enough to make use of this.
Within a year of entering the literal hellhole Nobbins was able to work himself into the staff of the Evil Lord himself. The pay was pretty good and he was even able to get an apartment in the palace. All he had to deal with was the malicious and rude devils in there which was completely fine with him.
Whenever there was a violent monster that entered, the little pipsqueak was the one thrown at it. Was there a dinner party with the wicked witches that needed someone to wait for? Go get that minion. Was there a clogged toilet? “NOBBINS!” He was always sat on, but that was good with him since he knew how good his place was.
That was until a small message popped up on his phone from a name that was eerily familiar to him. “hey nobby its ur mum. i saw u landed a gud job with the big cheese. nice job dood! a small bird told me if you slipped a pill in satan’s coffee cup we could probs take over. luv u!!! c u soon!” Nobbins had not heard from his mother since he died, and missed her dearly. He was scared of disappointing her, but doubted her plan.
“poison the lord? he would never approve of that! u no that!” Nobbins replied, scared for his mother’s sanity.
“now now my little nobby. u wouldnt want 2 disappoint ur poor old mummy would u? do it tomorrow at the party and we’ll take over by tuesday”
“how do u no about the party?” He immediately responded confused. There was going to be a secret meeting tomorrow to discuss the invasion of Helheim and Hades, how did his mother know about that?
“o dont worry nobbins ur mum has just made some new friends. just do it and ill c u soon gn!” And with that, poor little overlooked Nobbins was now in an assassination plot.
The next day he snuck off the property and casually bought some over the counter poison from the corner store. The clerk looked at him suspiciously as the only thing he ever bought there was sodas and toilet paper, but shrugged it off. Later that night he slipped a few into the wine glasses for the guests. He figured it’d be better to knock off everyone there rather than just Satan since they’d probably want the seat too and he wasn’t having that.
The party was supposedly going pretty well as Nobbins was always hearing laughter as he walked in and out of the kitchen. However one after another of the advisors there were slowly “falling asleep” at the table.
Finally at the end of the night the lord got up and stopped Nobbins as he was cleaning up the plates at the table.“Nobbins my boy, was this you?” The small servant looked up innocently at the corpses at the table.
“Was what me, sir?” Satan immediately saw through it.
“Nobbins this is the most pathetic assassination attempt I’ve ever seen. Who told you to do this and where did you get this lousy poison? If you really think you can kill me with this shoddy stuff, I'm honestly worried about my public image.” The devil sighed and put his arm around Nobbins.
“Err it was me mum sir.” He replied, shaking in fear.
“After a quick trip to the dungeons, I’m going to need you to find me some new advisors, ok Nobbins?”
“Yes sir!” The servant replied readily.
The plot failing was a bit of a disappointment to Nobbins, and especially his mother, but he did not care very much. For now, Nobbins was the number two in Hell. | 2022-06-03T16:10:34 | 2022-06-03T16:10:32 | 345 | 144 |
[WP] "Any last words before I eternally claim your soul?" snarled the demon. Terrified, you stood there silently. You haven't said anything in 20 years, yet you still see the demon constantly hovering in the shadows, waiting. | The demon hovered ominously as I poured milk into the cereal bowl. I pushed it out of the way to get to the freezer and pulled out the ice cube tray.
The demon snarled in frustration as I went about getting my breakfast, thoroughly angered by my stubbornness.
Years had passed since it had uttered that once terrifying threat, and it was still waiting for me to say my last words. Unfortunately for it, I was not willing to give the demon any satisfaction, nor was I physically able to speak.
If the demon had taken any time to get to know me before it chose me as its target, it would understand that I was mute.
Instead it now had to put up with this endless cycle of hovering over my shoulder, waiting for me to somehow speak my 'final words.'
Like, no thanks, not today. My soul is mine thank you.
I opened a drawer and pulled out a notepad and pen, writing on it and giving it to the demon.
*Dude, you really need to find a hobby. I mean really, it's been 20 years and I'm not about to start saying shit any time soon. You said you would break me but I think I've broken you.*
Insulted, the demon disintegrated the note in its hand, and stormed over to me. "HOW DARE YOU!," he snarled. "I WILL WAIT FOR AN ETERNITY IF I MUST TO CLAIM YOUR SOUL. IT BELONGS TO ME, IT IS MINE! AND HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME- WRITE TO ME IN THAT MANNER. YOU SHOULD BE COWERING IN FEAR AFRAID TO SPEAK A SINGLE WORD."
I shrugged before sitting down at the table and eating my cereal.
Poor guy needs to get a life already. | I've been staying in this void silently for what feels like decades. Well, not *perfectly* silently, every now and then I'd make mouth noises unintentionally, but it seems that as long as I don't say any actual words I'm all good.
Originally I was just thinking of some cool last words, y'know. Something that this demon might remember me by, maybe something they'd talk to their friends about if it was particularly funny. But as the minutes passed and the demon also stayed silent, I figured I might've found a loophole.
If I just never respond, it seems like I might get to avoid the whole "eternal damnation" deal.
Surely being silent for eternity is somewhat better of an alternative than eternal torture. At the very least, this dark room I'm in feels like it has air conditioning, while Hell is (from what I've heard) rather hot. The demon seems remarkably patient. They've been silently leaning against a wall, cloaked in shadow, for the past few months at least. Every now and then they get up and stretch and walk around a bit, but don't seem to do much else beyond stare at me, patiently awaiting a response.
Although the first few years in this room were more boring than any I'd had in life, they seemed to fly by compared to the most recent few. I'd replayed in my mind what I remembered of every life event, song, movie and tv show I could, and had fun creatively filling in the blanks. I'd contemplated the big issues that had plagued my world, thought of solutions, and then thought of more hypothetical problems that I could think of more hypothetical solutions to.
Every day I wake up aching to say something, to just give in and at least have a change of pace. But I'm held back by my fear. My brain tells me that obviously eternal torture has to be worse than eternal chilling.
But, I'm soooo bored. No physical pain could hurt as much as this.
After clearing my throat, I said my first words in twenty years.
"Fuck it".
The demon rolled their eyes.
*"Fucking finally. I've got 6 more of you to handle before I'm finished my shift"*
The room started to get hotter. My entire body started to feel like it was burning. The walls of the room started to fade away into unending fields of flame, rock, people being tortured and people doing the torturing, with demons looking upon it all. I felt more terrified than I'd ever been.
And yet I couldn't stop smiling.
:D | 2022-07-11T12:36:14 | 2022-07-11T11:36:03 | 212 | 18 |
[WP] "Any last words before I eternally claim your soul?" snarled the demon. Terrified, you stood there silently. You haven't said anything in 20 years, yet you still see the demon constantly hovering in the shadows, waiting. | There was a soft breeze as the sky started to show hints of pinkish orange. It was quiet, aside from the clinking of glass.
"I don't think I've been above ground during sundown before," Orika said, eyes fixated on the distant horizon.
"Really? It's almost always breathtaking, I remember from all my soul-claiming days." Baalzar paused to pour himself more red wine. "My favorite claimings were during a time like this, where I'd like to think that their last moments alive was spent immersed in beauty."
"That's a nice way to look at things." She tilted her head suddenly. "Say, Baalzar, you never told me why you quit the job."
Baalzar leaned back against the rock and lifted his golden rimmed cup to his lips. "What, one can't just quit when they feel like it?"
"I mean, the duty of soul-claiming is one of the most sought for, one of the most honored. And it means coming to the surface every day and experiencing moments like this." Orika gazed at the sky longingly.
"It's not as great as you would think, Orika."
Her stare hardened. "That's what they all say. But at least you lot got to experience and see the human life, before they become soulless, depressing beings."
"But our sole duty is to claim their souls. You'd more likely see frightened faces after frightened faces, their bodies trembling at the sight of you, and hear the quiver in their voice. Is that what you would want?"
Orika didn't respond.
Baalzar took a larger gulp, letting the wine warm his throat.
"I stopped because of something that happened on my final assignment."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, my go-to line is to ask the humans if they had any last words before I claimed their souls. Because I believe that it was cruel to just claim them without giving them a warning or a chance to express themselves. But the last human... he stood there like every other one. Terrified and shaking. His face had gone white too. But he didn't talk."
"What? You mean..."
Baalzar nodded. "For twenty human years, Orika. Twenty. He shut his mouth and I... I never encountered anything like that. I mean... the rules of our duty have a lot of grey area within them, and I didn't want to act against my own personal morals. So I just... followed."
She whipped to look at him, ears perked in surprise. "You didn't claim his soul immediately."
Baalzar shook his head. "I thought he just needed a bit of time to process it all. To be honest, sometimes I still think that I'm right and that he didn't do it to escape death. But from there, I witnessed so many things.
"The thing is, I've always felt detachment towards humans. Not out of resentment, but from a lack of understanding. I didn't understand what made them act the way they did or believed the things that they did. Like why did they care so much about something they themselves created value for? Why did they let it hold so much power that it was a constant source of war and crime and all the bad things they did? I thought humans were stupid and weak. Useless.
"But that particular human... without ever uttering any explanations to me, he showed me so much.
"When he returned home after he encountered me, he immediately hugged his parents and brother. He could have explained to them in writing—I had let writing slide over those twenty years—but he didn't. I later learned that he did not want to worry them.
"I watched him cry in his room, alone, aside from the being that was waiting to claim his soul. I watched him contemplate his entire life, watched him write notes and letters, watched him lose his mind. I thought I had to swoop him to save him from himself.
"Then I watched him get up with newfound determination that I could see in his glistening eyes and balled up fists. The determination that wavered when people questioned, yelled, and bullied him for this 'weird new change' according to them, but ultimately remained there.
"It was then that I learned that humans were stronger than I had perceived."
Baalzar reached for the bottle again. "I apologize for the lengthy explanation, by the way. Just stop me when you become tired of it."
Orika shook her head, previously blazing ruby eyes quelling to a calmer hue that matched the wine. But they still gleamed with curiosity and fascination. "No, please. Tell me everything." | The human mind has an incredible ability to adapt to almost any circumstance. It may strain under the pressure, but if it doesn’t break it will bend and adjust. Eventually, the new will become more familiar than the old to the point you could never imagine returning to the way things were. To that point - I can’t really imagine speaking again.
It was hard at first. I lost my job, my partner, most my friends. They tried sending me to the hospital, but the doctor couldn’t find anything wrong with me aside from my sudden desire never to speak again, and that was perfectly rational from my own point of view. If I said another word, I would die. Then my soul would be dragged down to hell.
The demon watching me now made it very clear that would happen. Two reptilian slits peered out from the darkness under the simple cot that was my bed. When I was tired of meditation and reading, sometimes I would stare back. It was a good way to pass the time in-between meals with my fellow monks.
In some ways, I felt I needed to thank the abyssal creature. I never thought I would abandon the city and my worldly possessions to become a monk. I never thought I would be celebrated by the small community I found for my devout adherence to a vow of silence either. Most of all, I never thought I would come to enjoy this world that I built around me. But the mind is adaptable, and after twenty years, I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave.
The joy in simplicity is mine to appreciate and I do so everyday in a beautiful silence. It is only interrupted by the occasional one-sided conservations directed at me by my peers and the entity that haunts me, but even that I’ve come to enjoy.
I sat on my bed and waited. The small window into my room let in only faint moonlight, revealing that another day had flown away. And when night fell, the demon would grow bold.
Two massive claws reached out and dug into the stone floor, carving several long furrows with a metallic scrape. He liked to do this for show, but in the morning any indication of his existence would mysteriously vanish.
“You must be tiring of this,” a low growl followed.
I smiled and shook my head.
“It’s okay, you can tell me. I’m telling you it’s not so bad down there. You can speak, for one. And there’s better food than in this joint.”
Brother Felix put raisins in the oatmeal this morning. Is there any greater joy than the mild sweetness of a raisin when you weren’t expecting one?
“You’re thinking about the raisins, aren’t you?”
I nodded. While the demon couldn’t read thoughts, twenty years spent constantly together meant he was exceptional at understanding me.
“I still can’t believe this. My first human, and this is what happens. You weren’t meant to take it literally! It was supposed to be a scary thing I said, but then you took it literally and now we’re stuck here talking about raisin oatmeal.”
I shook my head.
“I’m stuck here.”
I nodded, then shrugged. It wasn’t so bad. I, for one, enjoyed our little talks.
“You’re too content.”
I patted the empty stretch of cot beside me. It took a lot more grumbling, but eventually the demon dragged itself out and sat beside me.
The first time I had seen him in his full form, I nearly broke my vow of silence. Not out of a sense of horror, admittedly, but I almost couldn’t stop myself from laughing. He was a bipedal reptilian creature, with a too-wide mouth and rows of sharp teeth. What was so funny was that it honestly looked like he was wearing a costume from a cheesy B-movie.
It was real, which only made it more impressive. Anybody could wear a bad costume, but it took effort to just look like that.
“I just, I don’t know what to do!” He huffed a few times and growled. “You won’t do anything! You get up. You meditate. You eat. You read. You sit there with that smile and refuse to do anything else but listen to me while I rant about how quiet you are!”
I patted him on the shoulder, and the dam broke. He fell onto me, quickly burrowing his snout into my shoulder. The tears started up soon after.
“I’m a failure, aren’t I?”
I shook my head. You’re just having a rough time. Maybe you should consider a new line of work?
“What would I even do? Heaven’s not hiring, and Hell won’t want me back unless I bring you!”
Maybe you could find something on Earth? People tell me it’s like Hell.
“You think somebody would hire me?”
I nodded. I could think of a few lines of work for a demon.
“I guess I don’t need to hunt you anymore, then. You can speak again.”
I looked down, meeting his eyes. Very slowly, I opened my mouth.
I closed it again and shook my head.
“What the- you almost fell for it! DANGIT!” The demon jumped off the bed and stomped around, cursing.
You almost had me.
*Almost.*
&#x200B;
(Thanks for reading, C&C always welcome!) | 2022-07-11T13:05:38 | 2022-07-11T11:12:58 | 100 | 43 |
[WP] A psychic alien who feeds on dreams comes to Earth for the first time. Turns out humans are the only sentients in the galaxy that have nightmares. | The planet of Hexalos prepared to receive their first emissary to Earth, worried about Kashitok’s last transmission:
“These humans do not just have dreams. They have these horrible, twisted dreams called nightmares, where everything is terrible. I’m returning home.”
The Hexalians anxiously awaited Kashitok, expecting to see a shaken and defeated comrade. When he first appeared, their fears seemed true. His face, once healthily green, approached a brownish colour that would lead many Hexalians to shake their head and mournfully prepare a permanent send-off into the darkness of space.
What was strange, however, was the radiant smile on Kashitok.
“You look positively psychotic,” mission commander Laxok said. “Your expression and your complexion do not match.”
“I know, sir,” Kashitok said. “I think I need a lie down, and a long time in a proper toilet. But I’ll give my report soon.”
After a Hexalian hour of the entire space base trying to ignore the sounds coming from the washroom, Kashitok finally emerged with a much healthier colour.
“Kashitok,” Laxok said. “I understand if you need more rest due to the harrowing experience.”
“Oh, I actually feel quite good,” Kashitok said. “Refreshed, even.”
“If you say so,” Laxok sighed. “You did well, emissary.”
“Those nightmares,” Kashitok felt his tongue instinctively rub across his lips. “They are strange. It kind of burns your tongue.And your face. Maybe you get a headache.”
“That sounds utterly horrifying,” Laxok said gravely. “I’m so sorry. I’ll henceforth strike off Earth as a potential hunting ground.”
Kashitok held out a hand, shaking his head.
“No, no, no, don’t be. I shouldn’t like it… but I do.”
“What do you mean, you like it?”
The emissary rubbed his chin, gently clicking his tongue.
“Dreams taste… good. They linger on your tongue, makes you happy, and leaves you contented. But…”
Laxok leaned in closer, curiosity turning his face a shade of purple.
“But?”
“Eating a nightmare is challenging,” Kashitok said, smiling manically. “It’s painful, but that’s also what gives it flavour. And that makes me want to eat it more.”
“... You are a sick bastard, Kashitok.”
“I brought a sample back,” the emissary said, putting a small transparent bottle in front of his commander. It was a shifting mess of dark crimson, with streaks of grey and black mingling uglily within it. It shook on the table, like the nightmare was trying desperately to claw its way out.
“That looks disgusting,” Laxok made a face.
“Just a small sip, commander.”
Laxok tentatively reached out, grasping the bottle firmly. He uncapped it, and watched as the nightmare almost desperately reached out into the open air. With his lips towards the mouth of the bottle, he gently tasted the nightmare.
Laxok jumped up immediately, breaking out into an impromptu dance. He slammed the bottle onto the table—which Kashitok immediately capped—and rushed towards a more pleasant dream in his collection. One desperate gulp after gulp, the commander finally calmed down enough to take back his seat.
“Kashitok,” Laxok said. “You are insane.”
“Maybe,” Kashitok said, putting the nightmare fully into his mouth. “But I’m doing the human a favour. They are welcome.”
---
r/dexdrafts | The psychic being turned to the busy Metropolis for its first meal since arriving on Planet Earth, the moonless night having fallen on the community. Freshly asleep, its denizens knew not of the being from the cosmos sent to feast on their nightly visions.
It crept onto a rooftop, peering into a window of one of the freshly asleep, shifting in bed, eyes darting around under their closed lids. A perfect meal, the being thought to itself, and as such it crept into the victim’s mind, eager to get its fill.
It soon found itself in a busy city street, moving in a crowd of blurred faces. It sees the victim sitting alone, looking down on the ground as if they were unaware of the being’s presence. Perfect, It thought, as it began its consumption. The distant cityscapes of the dream soon began to crumble, much to the apathy of the dream’s constructs, and the victim themselves.
When the destruction drew near the being, the dream’s blurred constructs all stop in their tracks, beginning to eye the victim in hostile contempt. The visible destruction was soon flooded with a blackened fog, much to the being’s confusion. It wasn’t causing this fog?…
As the rest of their surroundings sink into the darkness, all that is left in front of the being is the crowd and the victim on their lonesome, sobbing on their bench. Sobbing? Dreamers usually never act like that, the being thought. It soon found itself startled by a sudden noise, yelling, coming from the crowd of constructs.
The sounds stank of vitriol. Of hatred. Of fear. The being knew not what those meant in this environment, it just meant to simply consume this dream. Yet it wasn’t budging anymore. The dream wasn’t collapsing, the being wasn’t getting fuller, for it wasn’t a dream anymore.
It was a nightmare.
The constructs slowly vanish one by one, leaving just the being and the victim, the latter of which continues crying, surrounded by a pitch black void of nothingness. The being, confused, thought its job was done, yet it could not leave. It was trapped in this person’s mind.
It started becoming desperate, clawing at the dark despite nothing being there. The victim, who has gathered enough of themselves to look up, sees the being in its full form, standing in front of them amidst nothing else.
Then they screamed. In terror? In rage? It couldn’t tell, but the simply the sensation of such during what’s supposed to be an easy meal was overwhelming. It tried to flee, but it found itself crashing into a wall of the cityscape, which has reappeared. Looking up, the being saw that the sky had been replaced with a drab, maroon glow, and the buildings looked long abandoned, filled with mysterious red stains and with greenery, slowly creeping up the towering heights of their massive walls.
The victim falls onto their knees from their seated position, arms outstretched. They have ceased their screaming, allowing the being a bit of breathing room. It didn’t know what was going on.
Then, one by one, the buildings around them burst into flames. The victim breathed heavily, looking up, a look of fear in their eyes. Though they did not react to its presence, the being felt as if it was in danger. It tried to flee through the city, yet the flames kept spreading far faster than it moved soon, it found itself having looped back to the victim, still on their knees. When it turned around to find another path, it finds that the flames have surrounded the both of them, inching ever closer.
Still not accepting its fate, the being tried to interact with the victim, who simply did not react. As the flames engulf the two, the being could not do more than mirror its target’s terrified expression.
Poof. The being found itself on the same rooftop it had entered the dream from, looking down at the quiet streets of the peaceful night. In a panic, it looked around in as many places as it could, yet there was no fire. The sky was black, and the buildings looked as maintained a ever. It was confused.
For the rest of the night, the being sought out no more dreams. Even though it hadn’t had its fill, such an experience was something it would not like to relive. Ever…. | 2022-09-06T08:45:39 | 2022-09-06T07:34:55 | 295 | 115 |
[WP] Write a scene that would appear sexual to an observer, but is completely innocent. [nsfw]
Like the tent shadow scene from Austin Powers, it should be humorous and can involve objects and sounds. | He's behind her. Thrusting as hard as he possibly can. Her eyes are up in her skull and he has a tired look on his face.
He begins to do this action faster.
Harder.
Finally she spits out a grape that had been lodged in her throat.
Phew, glad that's over. | God, I felt like a man.
I couldn't help but admire myself, stealing glances at my own reflection. Shirtless in the nippy air, glistening with sweat; the light reflected off my perspiration, clearly delineating the bulging and rippling of my muscles as I worked, up and down, like a powerful machine, a piston powered by raw vigour.
Sweat condensed from my brow, rolled down the bridge of my nose, welled up and dripped from the tip. In, out: My great chest heaved with each inhalation and subsequent exhalation, swelling with the force of life itself. I stopped to rest, to breathe, but for only a second, then by the virility of youth I went right back at it, pumping and pushing myself as hard as I could.
Suddenly a police officer walked up to me, demanding to know what I was doing, and that was the last time I worked out at the school playground. | 2013-10-13T23:38:00 | 2013-10-13T23:18:57 | 87 | 11 |
[WP] What if tattoos just randomly appeared on our skin at key points in our lives and we had to figure out what they meant for ourselves.
[WP] Saw this as a shower thoughts post and no one put it up as a writing prompt. Credit to OP 69PrivateJoker
Edit: Wow! I really didn't expect this post to blow up so much. Thanks everyone, there's some really really good work here | "Just another day for the Cutie Mark Crusaders, right Applebloom?" Exclaimed my friend Sweetie Belle as her horn poked through the pile of trash we found ourselves in. It would have been almost comical if my flank didn't hurt so much.
"Where is Scootaloo?" I asked suddenly, remembering the pegasus pony we jumped off the top of the tree house with. The new flying contraption she created out of kites and fishing line was supposed to help non-pegasus ponies fly. She promised that this venture would for sure get us our cutie marks, symbols that appear on a ponies flank showing a pony what their special purpose is.
"I'm up here," a sad voice cried. It was Scootaloo tangled in fishing wire hanging from a branch, wrapped in a kite, and crying profusely. Her wings struggling to break free of the line, but only working to entangle them more.
"Sweetie Belle, use your magic and help her down!" I could see Sweetie Belle's horn start to glow as her magic started to work and untangle the line from around Scootaloo. As the magic peeled back the line and kite pieces from my friend, I caught a glimpse of something crimson red on her flank.
"Oh my gosh, Scootaloo you're bleeding!"
"What?" She yelled as she tried to turn around and look at her wound, but she was still tangled up in the line.
"Stop moving!" I turned to look at Sweetie Belle who had pulled herself out of the leaves. She was visibly struggling to untangle Scootaloo with her magic. My eyes noticed a crimson mark on her too, hidden by the leaves stuck to her fur.
I heard a loud thud as I rushed over to Sweetie Belle and brushed off the leaves with my hoof, wondering what new injury our attempts to obtain a cutie mark would leave.
"Applebloom. It worked!" I heard Scootaloo exclaim. "What do you mean it worked?" I turned around and looked at her, furious that she could consider the failure of the flying contraption and our injuries a success."
"You got your cutie mark!" Her eyes light up as she said it. Suddenly I noticed that the crimson mark I saw on her flank wasn't blood, it was some sort of symbol with the word "creds" on it. I looked back at Sweetie Belle and could see that since the leaves had fallen away, she also had the same mark.
"I don't understand", Sweetie Belle said, visibly confused. "We failed, so far we aren't good at anything. How can we get our cutie marks?"
We all looked at each other with the same confusion.
"That's just it. You're not good at anything!"
The voice carried from behind the tree house. A pony dressed in a white uniform with the number 38 stepped out.
"You're not good at anything and you're perfect for my team!"
"What team?" I asked, noticing that the logo on his hat and flank were the same as ours.
"Why the Cincinnati Reds of course!" | The studied and revered scriptures of history are full of proverbs, but they are all about an inch and a half away from uselessness.
They don't make the world a better place because not everyone follows them. The actions that make the world a better place are nearly impossible to guess at, and certainly follow no conventional rules.
Drake Fennick got his first tattoo when he was only five years and seven months old. A butterfly with a crippled wing. Drake, in his tender young age, at first made nothing of it, if only because new things are a regular occurrence at that age.
Then Drake began to dream, biblical dreams full of blood and fire. At the end of each dream, a butterfly fluttered gently across Drake's blood-tinted visions. Against his will, Drake always reached out and crushed the butterflies wing.
The tattoo had been faint when it first appeared, but as time passed, and Drake ignored the dreams, the butterfly became darker, from the faintest pink, to violet, purple, and then to full black. Drake could feel the tattoo, pins and needles stabbing into his shoulder blade every day, the sensation worse each morning than it had been the night before.
Drake's parents could not see the tattoo, and became convinced their son was mentally ill. They knew he wasn't faking it, a five year old would have to be positively psychopathic to wake up the middle of the night screaming about butterfly's for weeks at a time.
The odd thing was that while five year old Drake could hardly sleep through the night, his six month old sister Carolina slept soundly, the quietest child that Drake's parents had ever heard of.
The tattoo got darker, if it was possible to be darker than black. The silhouetted butterfly went from ink black, to the kind of black that one only expects from the night sky. There was an unhealthy contrast between Drake's white skin and the abyssal black of the tattoo that by now felt like a molten brand being pressed into bone.
The nightmares faded in the fifth month, and Drake's sleep twisted into a possessed trance. Drake's parents were of the more religious bent. They were convinced prayer and locked doors would cure their unconsolable son. Satanic activity was confirmed in their minds when Drake woke them both up in the wee hours, scratching his door with a glazed look on his face, mindless of the blood coursing out from beneath his ruined fingernails.
A priest was called, but he too saw no diagnosable problem in the small boy's insistence that his night hours were haunted by blood and butterflies.
Things came to head on Drake's sixth birthday. The previous night had been the first time in months that Drake slept soundly. His parents were relieved by the lack of, for the first time in months, ravings about butterflies.
Drake's parents woke to a scream so bloodcurdling that both were convinced Satan had risen from hell and made his home one of their children's rooms. The father ran to Drake's room. The mother went to check on Carolina.
The father reached his sons door, jiggling the dull knob frantically for a moment before remembering that it had been locked every night for almost six months. The father, hands trembling with the fear of God, eventually found the motor skill to use the key. Drake was not in his bed. The window was open. On the left wall, in what could have only been blood, was written, "YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND. BUT IT IS BETTER THIS WAY."
Underneath the scarlet scribblings was a small drawing of a butterfly with a crippled left wing.
Then the mother began to scream.
| 2014-08-02T19:13:10 | 2014-08-02T18:00:09 | 33 | 13 |
[WP] Every person in the world develops a weird mutation/power the day they turn 16. Everyone's powers are always different, some more insignificant than others. You turn 16, and watch as all your friends discover their newfound ability's. That is, until you discover the severity of your own. | Day 1.
Sigh..... As I wake up on my 16th birthday I knew it would happen. I was dreading it. I didn't want it, I didn't need it. I didn't believe in it. My parents had useful powers though as much as they hated it. Dad being a doctor of course managed to heal people at a touch. Mum being the cook that she was never needed to do groceries again as she seemed to be able to multiply food out of thin air. The day went by and I waited inside for my powers to manifest but nothing seemed to happen. Didn't help that it poured the whole day.
Day 5.
Still no powers. Huh, maybe God was listening to my prayers. I thanked Him for it silently in church as I did every Sunday with my parents. There was barely anyone now in the aisles. Ever since the first detection of these powers way back when, religion had sort of taken a back seat to most people. Science of course was delving deeper into how and why these powers came about. They eventually came up with an answer. My parents said take no stock in it of course. We were religious and that was how we lived. There would be no one else but God.
Day 15.
The feeling of being the only normal one in my world defied expression. I felt like the chosen one, like God had chosen me to be different like he did his son Jesus Christ. Everyone began looking at me funny but I didn't care. My parents loved me despite it, glorified me even for being one of the few to be given the chance to work hard in life, without any powers, without any easy roads. I was doing God's work in my own way they said, a beacon for others. With thoughts of peace, I read a passage before I sleep. As I lay my head to rest I hear the patter of the rain on my window seemingly to wash me of my sins. Man... It hasn't stopped raining since my birthday...
Day 25
The people in my year continue with their daily life albeit with a few.. enhancements. I remember the day when we were taught how we gained our "powers". Human beings have long lost their original and innate capacities with for creation and innovation with the introduction of color television. Who would have known that this capacity for creation was merely a result of gene expression? Who could have imagined this gene sitting in our DNA slowly evolving itself to cope with our lack of innovation by imbuing us with these so called superpowers. And if that wasn't enough, they linked that these superpowers were a result of actually watching tv; the regular programs and media which later led to what we truly desired in a power. Sigh.. All these sad heathens and their beliefs. I walked out of that assembly hall that day, refusing to believe it. As I'm sitting here in present day I admire the simple things of God's nature; the 2 lovebirds sitting in the tree branches drying themselves from the ever continuous rain...
Day 36
I spot the 2 lovebirds on the way to school. They seem to have built a nest there and welcome me every morning. As I slosh about the ankle high waters, I think back to my friends, my classmates, the ones who have finally alienated my "weirdness". The geeks had the most variety. Super speed and spell casting were quite a surprising norm among them. The jocks all had super strength. No surprises there what with the constant sports reruns they were watching. The cheerleaders? Flight mostly. Goth kids. Necromancy. Go figure. I notice a lot of stray cats and dogs around the place. Always the same color, always in a pack. Hmmm
Day 40.
It's been raining for 40 days and 40 nights. The news reports have shown tsunamis have hit all our coasts. The death toll is increasing. The 2 lovebirds are still within my sight from my window. The stray and wild animals in my yard are always in pairs. Not packs. Pairs. And they were always the same 2 animals. I know what my powers are now. It was always there written in the book. In my Bible. In the book of Genesis. It's too late now. | Sean was walking home from the gardening store, he loved getting new utensils. His birthday was spent as it usually was, Dad carrying in his broken down car from his 24 hour shift as a security guard before falling asleep without saying happy birthday and Sean playing hide and seek in their garden with his Mommy. Her power was invisibility but Sean got the hang of noticing flattened grass and bent flowers. When he first found out his power his Mom told him all the good he can do in the world, that never before has a power like this been. Sean didn't believe that. The other kids at school picked on him, called him names and made him regret he ever told anyone his power.
Taking the left turn from the main street into an alleyway as he always did on a Tuesday after the garden store Sean strolled right into the immovable palm of Billy Smith. "Hey bee boy, whats in the bag? Toys for your little garden? Let me see them." said Billy with a devious smile on his face. "Just leave me alone Billy, I am walking home, my parents are expecting me" pleaded Sean only now noticing the other boys behind Billy. "You know Spark and Razor don't you?" questioned Billy as the boys behind him gave Sean a glimpse of their powers. Spark created a stream of electricity from both his hands while Razor morphed his into to immaculate blades. "Yeah they are in my Maths class." said Sean as calmly as he could whilst remembering all the shocks he got, all the tiny slits he received and the name, the names were the worst.
"Do you know my name bee boy?" asked Billy. "Its...its Bill." is all Sean could get out. "WRONG!" Billy yelled as he picked Sean up by the scruff of the neck with one hand. "They call me Herc, short for Hercules. They say I am going to be the strongest of all the supers. I could pound your Daddy into the pavement, when the drunk isn't passed out there already" chuckled Billy as Sean began to tear up. "Stop crying, we are just messing with you. And speaking of messing let us play with those toys" exclaimed Billy as he grabbed Seans bag with his free hand and then threw Sean to the ground.
The new shovel Sean saved up for was crushed into a toothpick by Billy's tectonic plate grip. The seeds for the rose plants Sean was going to grow for his Mom, turned to dust by Spark. The pots Sean bought were thrown into the air and sliced into tiny pieces by razor. Sean could not contain his sadness and rage any longer. "STOP!! I AM WARNING YOU!" bellowed Sean as he pointed straight at Billy. Fabricated into reality around his hand were several small bumblebees flying towards Billy. The three boys glanced at each other, back to Sean and then burst into unrelenting laughter.
"The bee queen has spoken!!! Ohh no, he is going to sting us!!!! The only thing he will ever fertilize is a flower!!!" repeated the three boys in unison. Sean felt like he shouldn't have said anything and went fetal. Billy picked him up to his feet. "Well!!! You were saying something bee boy?" grunted Billy as he slowly pushed Sean back with a single pointed finger one nudge at a time. "Well?" push. "It sounded like you threatened us" push. "Didn't he threaten us boys?" push. "You gonna throw some more bees at us your majesty?" one final push that knocked Sean stumbling backwards. He regained his composure and clenched both fists.
The anger was growing in his face, the anger was the only thing holding back the tears in Sean's face. The words of the bullies echoing through his very being. The bullies just stood there laughing. Sean didn't think this was funny at all. "Leave me alone" Sean mumbled. "Did he just buzz?" roared Razor with laughter and the others promptly joined in. "LEAVE!!! ME!!! ALONE!!!!" Sean roared as he threw both fists forward opening both hands.
It all happened so fast. Sean only grasped what had happened when he saw Billy throwing haymaker punches knocking chunks out of the walls of the alleyway. Sean had summoned a swarm of Africanised bees. Spark and Razor took off sprinting at the sight of the swarm. Billy was not so fortunate. All the strength he had was not enough to fight this foe. His skin started to blister and bloat, his eyes swelled and his footing was lost. The bees began to disperse once his body stopped moving. Sean saw the reality of what just happened. He sat down in the alleyway next to Billy's body. Unbearable sadness overcame Sean. "All you had to do was leave me alone......I begged you" whispered Sean as he sobbed alone with Billy dead next to him. | 2015-01-21T22:46:38 | 2015-01-21T22:19:41 | 62 | 22 |
[WP] Every person in the world develops a weird mutation/power the day they turn 16. Everyone's powers are always different, some more insignificant than others. You turn 16, and watch as all your friends discover their newfound ability's. That is, until you discover the severity of your own. | 16 years, 16 years of waiting and dreaming of the power I would get. In a million years I could never have imagined this. My class from high school has powers like flight, invisibility, ability to cure illness. What do I get? What is the pay off of all that dreaming and waiting? When I make a gun with my fingers the tip of my index finger turns into the head of a duck which then quacks once and poofs back. That's it. I am some sort of avian Fonzie. The only side effect is the duck is not stopped by objects so anything caught in his beak disappears with him. I found this out one night as I guess I did the gesture in my sleep because I woke up to a loud quack and a chunk of my hair missing. | Tonight was my night; my 16th birthday. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime of waiting, it was my time to shine. I had waited almost a year for this day, ever since my best friend Andrew discovered in January that he could fly. I had envied him at first, being the first in the tenth grade with a power. As time passed I was jealous of what it said about him. If powers are a reflection of our character as scientists believed, I came to envy what this said about his life. He was free, he was pure and he was without a care in the world. What did he know about pain? of being beaten by your father every day for imagined sins and infractions? Of having to steal your best friends allowance to wear decent clothes? of being labelled by girls as a 'creep' and of your few friends pitying you?
But times had changed. New Years eve, my birthday, had arrived and I smiled at my reflection. I wondered what my power would be. Super strength for my strength through the hardships? Mind reading for my ability to empathize? I was entertaining these thoughts when my phone rang.
*Hello?*
*Hey it's Andrew here, you ready for the party?*
*Sure, pick me up in ten.*
*Hello?*
I heard static and a click as my phone died. I moved it away from my ear, and then smiled.
Tiny cracks ran along the screen and continued to spread from where my hand held the phone. I willed the cracking to stop, and it did. | 2015-01-21T23:50:44 | 2015-01-21T21:42:59 | 28 | 10 |
[WP] Your daughter wakes you up in the middle of the night insisting there's something scary in her room. You go with her to check it out and prove she's just imagining things. After you turn on the light, she doesn't see anything out of the ordinary and calms down. You're frozen with fear. | A small hand taps Sarah's elbow. She tries to pretend it's just a dream. Maybe if she doesnt open her eyes, then the damn kid will go back to her room. Not that that ever works.
"Mommy," a tiny voice whispers. "It's in my room again."
Sarah groans and sits up. Her daughter's minature form silhouettes against the drab yellow light from the hallway nightlight.
"Honey, there's nothing there," she says. Sleep makes her voice resemble a cement mixture. "We talked about this yesterday. And the day before."
The tiny hand taps in hurried rhythm on the wrinkled duvet.
"Pleeease?"
Sarah rubs her eyes with aching fingers. She comes from a long line of heavy sleepers. Her sister's kids all sleep like rocks. Itty bitty Emma is the one damn exception in the whole family and everyone agrees it's karma for sneaking out as a teenager.
"Ok. Then back to bed. Deal?"
She sees Emma's head bob in agreement, not that her it counts for shit. But she's only five, so it's not like it her word is her bond or anything.
Sarah kicks off the blankets and lowers her feet to the floor, weaving her toes in the filthy carpet. Why couldnt she have found a place with hardwood floors? Or bamboo? What she'd give for the ability to clean up Emma's messes with having to pull out the shampooer.
Emma wraps her hand around Sarah's pinky and ring finger. Her hands are sticky, but they're always sticky. It's like she's hiding a jar of honey under her bed or something.
"Let's go look in your closet, Emma. You'll see there's no one there, no one whispering, no one watching." She stands and uses the bedpost for support until her legs wake up. "Then we can both get some sleep."
They walk down the hall with short shuffling steps. The nightlight illuminates the tips of Emma's rats-nest hair, but her face remains in shadow. Sarah can't help but wonder if it holds a smug grin, the little girl dominating the big adult, giver of timeouts.
She sighs and shakes off her dour mood. Interrupted sleep is her kryptonite, but it's not Emma's fault. It's a phase and it will pass, just like teething and toilet training.
The door screeches on its hinge. Sarah makes a mental note to oil it, adding to an ever growing list of house fixes she never gets to.
"You'll see honey," Sarah says as she gropes for the light switch, "there's no such-"
She freezes, a tiny gasp escaping in little squeaks. Propped up against the closet's door frame, Emma's corpse oozes its final drops from a deep slash running ear to ear. A large maroon puddle soaks the carpet in a swath covering half the room, with a small set of prints leading out into the hallway.
"Oh," Emma says with a giggle, then tugs on Sarah's fingers with a hand tacky with drying blood. She looks up at Sarah with a pair of oily black eyes. "I guess I got her after all." | "I'm just nervous." Sean said. "We don't know her birth mother. Tomorrow she could . . . blow up the cellar."
Leao laughed quietly into his pillow. "Relax. It's not going to be that bad. It'll take two or three hours, everyone will keep their distance. She understands the drill."
Sean sighed. "How long did your inheritance take?"
"Twenty minutes. Maybe less. I went swimming in the lake. I zapped a few fish, but nothing crazy."
"Did it hurt?"
"No, of course not." Leao propped up on one elbow. "Did yours?"
"No." Sean worried his hands and looked at their bedroom door. "But my sister screamed for two days when she inherited. She told me later . . . she said if the pain hadn't kept her blind and deaf she would have killed herself to make it stop."
Leao sat up, rested his arms on his knees. "You never told me."
Sean offered him a sideways smile. "It's not exactly a fond memory."
"Your mom?"
Sean shook his head. "She's never talked about it."
"Well, the fact is, we don't know her mother--"
The bedroom door cracked open. A small hand wrapped around the edge. "Daddy? Pappa?" Freha's soft voice filled the space between them.
Sean slid out of bed and opened the door. His daughter held her night shirt up to chew on the hem. "There's something in my room."
Sean pet her head and took her hand. "Come on. Let's chase it out so you can get some sleep." Freha's hand was small and cold. Sean frowned. She occasionally saw monsters in the closet or under the bed, what young child didn't? But she'd never been this cold, before.
Sean pushed her door open and tried to remember if they had another blanket in the hall closet.
Freha whined and hid her face against his thigh. Sean willed light into the room. "Look, Freha. There's nothing--" Sean stiffened there in the hall.
Freha looked into her room and relaxed against him. Of course, she couldn't see it yet. Freha stepped away from her father and Sean tightened his grip on her hand. "Actually, Freha. . ." He knelt at her level and tore his eye from the dark omen above her bed. "Would you like to sleep with Papa and I tonight?"
Her eyes lit up. They hadn't allowed such an indulgence in months. She scrambled down the hall before Sean could change his mind. He wasn't going to.
Sean willed the light out and quietly closed Freha's bedroom door.
When Sean climbed back into his own bed, Freha had already snuggled in under the covers and was nearly asleep. Leao gave him a soft side-eye. "Did she give you puppy eyes?"
"There's a dougun over her bed."
Leao hissed, "What? Here?"
Sean put a hand on his husband's shoulder. "Don't. It was just watching. I didn't want her alone with it, is all."
Leao looked down at his daughter and back up at Sean. "How powerful is she?"
Sean slid down into the covers, "At least as powerful as my sister. They seemed drawn to her."
Leao groaned into his pillow. "What are we supposed to do, then?"
"Nothing right now. Sleep--"
"Yeah right."
"And we'll deal with it in the morning." Sean reached over Freha to grip Leao's shoulder. "We'll deal with it."
"Can your sister come over?"
"I'll talk to her in the morning."
Leao nodded. Then nodded again like he was trying to convince himself of Sean's words. They lay in bed, each of them pretending to sleep.
Just before dawn, the dougun drifted from Freha's room into theirs. | 2015-01-22T08:46:31 | 2015-01-22T08:19:32 | 110 | 25 |
[WP] A soldier on the front dies in the middle of writing a letter home. It is finished and sent by the man who killed him. | My dearest Anna,
I know that when I left I told you it was for the best, and that I needed space, but this was not the way to get it. The front has been hell. Sitting in what feels like a pit, eating watery soup they call food, and wishing I could come back home to your delicious cooking. I know I told you I was joining up on your 21st birthday, but this just feels right, and I want to say I'm sorry. This ordeal has caused me to forget what I was even mad about.
I miss you, and tell my mom I miss her too. My tour will be over in three months, and I will have some apologizing to do.
Ok, Anna, most sorry, but in raid, husband was shot. English not first language, so please bear with. Husband is in hospital, looks like no going to make it, he wanted me to say sorry, and he loves you. I am sorry too. Do not blame me, or husband for shot, just doing the jobs.
Signed:
Harland Jones, and Pvt. Yuri Kaspanov | My love,
I miss you and the child terribly. Life in the trenches is hard, but bearable, knowing that-
*A fold and several stains coat the paper.*
---
To whom it may concern:
No words can express my sorrow for your loss. Gerard was a brave man - a good soldier, one who anyone could be proud of.
War is hell. Men who would otherwise have been brothers are pitted against each other and forced to kill to survive. We soldiers are not enemies - these wars are fought by politicians, not by the men in the field.
Gerard was a remarkable man. He didn't let his fear for his own life turn him into a killer - he held to his morals in the darkest and the most hellish of environments.
I wish I was as much of a man as he was. I killed him with a knife to the throat - out of fear, out of cowardice, out of my own inability to see past my need for survival.
I know it won't help, but I'm sorry - I should have been the one to die, not him.
I killed my brother - we were all brothers.
In the end, we differed only by the side of the trenches we were on.
-P. Bäumer
---
^This ^is ^a ^reference ^to ^Erich ^Maria ^Remarque's ^*All* ^*Quiet* ^*On* ^*The* ^*Western* ^*Front.* ^If ^you ^haven't ^read ^it ^yet, ^look ^into ^it- ^it ^details ^some ^of ^the ^horrors ^of ^war, ^and ^the ^loss ^that ^comes ^with ^them.
Questions? Criticisms? Want to see more? Check out more of my stuff at /r/Draxagon | 2015-02-03T13:10:45 | 2015-02-03T13:02:09 | 95 | 48 |
[WP] A soldier on the front dies in the middle of writing a letter home. It is finished and sent by the man who killed him. | Dear Mom,
I love you and I miss you dearly. I want to be home. I don't want to be here anymore. It is unspeakably terrifying in this trench. We are shelled at random times of the day. There is never any peace. We can never be at ease.
There is 400 meters between us and the enemy, and we are at a stand still. Neither side wishes to rush the other and get cut down running across an open field. So we sit and wait. I don't want to die, and I don't want to kill the men in the trench across from us. I don't think they want to kill us either. But we both have orders from men in headquarters far away from here telling us we must capture this territory at all cost. I do not want this war, and I
have dezided to desert. I von't be coming home mama, I haf met a friend named Olaf, he iz a good man, I vill be staying wit him. He will take good care of me. Please don't worry abouts me. I will wright too you soon. I will be happy.
Love,
your son
| My love,
I miss you and the child terribly. Life in the trenches is hard, but bearable, knowing that-
*A fold and several stains coat the paper.*
---
To whom it may concern:
No words can express my sorrow for your loss. Gerard was a brave man - a good soldier, one who anyone could be proud of.
War is hell. Men who would otherwise have been brothers are pitted against each other and forced to kill to survive. We soldiers are not enemies - these wars are fought by politicians, not by the men in the field.
Gerard was a remarkable man. He didn't let his fear for his own life turn him into a killer - he held to his morals in the darkest and the most hellish of environments.
I wish I was as much of a man as he was. I killed him with a knife to the throat - out of fear, out of cowardice, out of my own inability to see past my need for survival.
I know it won't help, but I'm sorry - I should have been the one to die, not him.
I killed my brother - we were all brothers.
In the end, we differed only by the side of the trenches we were on.
-P. Bäumer
---
^This ^is ^a ^reference ^to ^Erich ^Maria ^Remarque's ^*All* ^*Quiet* ^*On* ^*The* ^*Western* ^*Front.* ^If ^you ^haven't ^read ^it ^yet, ^look ^into ^it- ^it ^details ^some ^of ^the ^horrors ^of ^war, ^and ^the ^loss ^that ^comes ^with ^them.
Questions? Criticisms? Want to see more? Check out more of my stuff at /r/Draxagon | 2015-02-03T13:25:34 | 2015-02-03T13:02:09 | 67 | 48 |
[WP] Everyone in the world is able to choose exactly one superpower. The catch: the more people select a certain power, the weaker it becomes.
Example: if many people choose telekinesis, they'll only be able to move small, light objects. If many people choose time travel, they'll only be able to go back a few seconds. | The current "super strength" boost was 110%. That meant when you lifted 11 kilograms of mass felt like you were lifting 10.
The current telekinesis limit was that of a slightly irate poltergeist who waves curtains as if in a drafty breeze. The immortals were pretty much guaranteed to live long enough to say their last goodbyes and that was it.
As time went on people had to get more and more specific in order to stay out of the watered down power pools. My power day is today, but I have a plan.
I leaned close to the gypsies ear an whispered my request. He chuckled. This was truly original.
I held out my hand, closed my eyes and concentrated. A cool tingling sensation surrounded my fingertips. I opened my eyes and found...
My fingernails could grow into stripes of chewing gum!
Maybe not the best power, but its good enough to get a job at a candy factory; plus no one can tell me not to chew my nails ever again. | I was so excited, so damned excited, when my day finally came. You know what I'm talking about. THE day. That day, yeah exactly, when finally you're deemed old enough to pick your power, talent whatever the hell you want to call it.
We've all been there, those of us at the age of choice and above, at any rate. You know that rush of excitement, right? How you know you're power is going to be great! Amazing even. You'll be able to change the world, make something of yourself!
Well...let me tell you something right fucking now. When it's your turn to pick, when your day of choice arrive. Think outside the box. Hell, think outside shapes in general, get out there in those squiggly lines.
Why? Because when the same power gets picked over and over it gets spread out through people. Sure, -sure-, when a person who picked it dies part of goes back into the power pool. But that's, what? One little bitty bit of power out of hundreds, maybe thousands if it's super 'awesome'.
So, yeah. Flight! Everybody wants to fly. How do I know? Because I'm one of the idiots that wanted to fly. Oooh, it'll be amazing, I said. I can fly with the birds, I said. Well you know what? A fucking penguin could out fly me. A goddamned penguin. I can get maybe an inch or two off the ground and coast forward maybe a little faster than the average sloth. On a good day.
So, in conclusion, pick something new, and I swear to fucking christ if one more person picks flight I'll go on a goddamned killing spree. Why? That inch or two just became a few centimeters. | 2015-05-05T04:09:18 | 2015-05-05T03:08:45 | 301 | 105 |
[WP] Instead of a modern adaptation of a myth, write a mythic adaptation of a modern story. | There was once a man who had a great love for the animals of the land. The goddess of the Hunt, Artemis saw his great love and appeared before him with this message:
"I command you to be the very best, like none other before you. To catch animals shall be your test, to train them shall be your cause."
He traveled across the land, searching far and wide for rare animals, seeking to understand their nature and the powers they hid inside of them. As he traveled he cried out, "I must capture all the beasts of the land, air, and sea! I know this to be my destiny!"
In time, his captured animals became his best friends, often defending him and others around him. His beasts taught him much about the world, and in return he taught them how to live with humans.
Every challenge they encountered along the way, this man and his beasts faced with courage. They battled everyday, in order to claim their rightful place in the world. And in the end, when the time was right, they faced the four greatest beast trainers in the world. Arm in arm, they won the fight, accomplishing what had always been their dream.
Destiny fulfilled, Artemis appeared before him again. Seeing how far this man came, she decided to grant him one wish. He was so devoted to his cause that his wish was to remain with his animals for all time.
Artemis fulfilled his wish, transforming him into a massive tree where animals and birds could take shelter. It's said that the seeds of this tree became the Ash trees we know and love today. | Once upon a time, in a faraway land of chocolates and timekeeping and mountains, a man was born. The man spent his life planning great games to keep the people of his magical, punctual land happy. He worked hard, and over the years his prestige grew. Eventually, he was charged with planning the greatest tournament in the world. People from every corner of the earth would gather every four years to watch the tournament, and it was said the game had such sway over the world that it could even stop wars.
Slowly, the man was seduced by the darker side of his power. Untold riches flowed into his coffers from nations all across the globe. Bribery was rampant. Those who opposed the man were swiftly and brutally handled. The man built a dark fortress under the ground in the mountains of his homeland, to hide his evil deeds from the gods themselves.
One year, a cabal of wealthy slavers promised the man a staggering fortune in exchange for the right to host the legendary tournament in their arid, inhospitable lands. Blinded by his lust for power and gold, the man agreed. The slavers drove thousands to their deaths constructing massive arenas in the harsh desert.
Across the Western sea, the former ruler of a great empire was furious. He had been convinced his homeland, the most powerful state in the world, would be awarded the tournament. He gathered his greatest wizards, hatching a plot to use the arcane powers of RICO to trap and destroy the dark lord in his mountain fortress.
The wizards lured a lieutenant of the dark lord to their cause, promising that he would be spared the harsh reprisals planned for lackeys of the great evil. The lieutenant, a mountain of a man with a foul-mouthed parrot on his shoulder, returned to the dark lord's fortress as a spy. He gathered damning evidence of the corruption that ate at the very heart of the dark lord's organization.
Finally, it was time to strike. Soldiers stormed the fortress, and the world gasped as the servants and allies of the dark lord were placed in chains and hurled into the dungeons of the great empire across the Western sea. The dark lord himself had fled, but his power was broken. The slavers were furious, but the world rejoiced.
The great nations of the world would have to rebuild the tournament themselves. But that, children, is a story for another day. | 2015-06-10T16:10:18 | 2015-06-10T08:06:59 | 57 | 17 |
[WP] Instead of a modern adaptation of a myth, write a mythic adaptation of a modern story. | They struck at early morning, when the peasants were disorganized, and the king was off visiting a nursery. The twin dragons found the symbol of wealth of the prosperous land of May Rica. Two glimmering towers made of enchanted iron and sand stood tall, above all the other huts and inns around it.
The dragons knew their deed, and knew they would not come home, but had fire and resolve in their hearts.
The peasants did not react, stunned at witnessing two dragons where they should not be. Amaireleven struck first, crashing into the north tower with tremendous force. Once it was lodged inside, it breathed dragon fire into the chamber within.
Uniaironsevfi followed suit and crashed into the remaining tower, and it too breathed its dragon fire within it.
The peasants watched in fear, at the unspeakable atrocity, unsure what to do, when all of a sudden first tower collapsed, followed by the second, their enchanted iron beams melted by dragon fire.
The city was in ruins, debris strewn for hundreds of miles, pieces of the tower could be found as far away as the Isle of Fire, and on that day the peasants of May Rica never forgot the day, Niney Leven. | Once upon a time, there was a man who owned a tavern with his sister. Times had been bad in the city where he lived, so he had decided to come home and live closer to his mother, who was very ill. With him, he brought the fairest princess in all the land. She had long golden hair and a radiant face, with a smile that could light up the entire room. She had married him long ago, falling in love with his laughter and the way he waltzed through life.
Bringing her home to his mother and his sister was the worst thing he could have done. The princess shrunk down and withered in the cold lands, cut off from all of her former friends and without the luxuries to which she had become accustomed. Her heart grew small and cold too, losing all the love she had once held for her husband, who had grown unfaithful.
So the princess decided to run away, and she decided to punish the man who had taken her away from her family and her riches. The golden-haired princess coloured her hair brown, and cut it, and disguised herself so that no-one would be able to tell it was her. In the cottage she shared with her unfaithful husband, she left a pool of blood and a note that painted her as a terrified wife.
The husband was suspected of killing his wife immediately, and once the townspeople discovered he was unfaithful, it was seen as certain. The princess lived amongst the common people, but was robbed and betrayed by those she trusted. She turned to the last friend that remained to her, in desperation.
The last friend betrayed her too. He tried to keep her prisoner against her will, changing her back into the princess she had originally been. Her golden hair grew back and she transformed. To escape from her captivity, she fought her friend and won.
The princess returned home to her husband, who promised to never be unfaithful again. They lived happily ever after. | 2015-06-10T10:26:42 | 2015-06-10T06:53:17 | 30 | 16 |
[WP] As a joke/Tic, an atheist always thanks the Dark Lord when good things happen. When they die, they are shocked to find out that The Dark Lord is real, and they are his favorite follower, as they never, ever asked for anything.
The Dark Lord's favor could be pleasant, or ironic, or mundane. Or maybe it's a Dark Lady, who knows? | "You should sit. We have walked far."
Through some window my eyes were not privy to, some impossible breach in the air, he entered his arms and withdrew two bone-white stools. He offered one into my outstretched hand, and I felt - reassuringly - a smooth, dry wood. I knew I was in Hell, or some equally unfathomable realm, but it lacked the fires and suffering heralded by the holy books. It did seem a little mournful, perhaps.
"Are you uncomfortable with your surroundings?"
When the man spoke, it was as though in tandem with another. His voice was a pleasant baritone, but layered over undertones of deep bass. Every word seemed simultaneously a dry, scholastic tone and a playful sing-song. It was mystifying, but though I felt I should have found it frightening, it actually seemed calming to me. The appearance of the man was almost as pleasing and strange as his voice - a medium height and build (though, bareshirted as he was, I could see his picturesque muscle tone) and dark-skinned as the men of the middle-east, or perhaps of India. I knew I was in the company of Satan, and I did not speak.
Actually, as an atheist, I wasn't really sure of the etiquette when it came to conversation with such beings. It didn't seem to matter too much - he could read a man like a book from his body language, his countenance, even his eyes alone - and he seemed more than happy to speak.
"Michael, we are acquainted. In fact, I am quite pleased to have you in my company. Your voice has been some slight reassurance to me in this... pit. You were not faithful, and had little academic knowledge of realms beyond your own anyway, but in case you have any preconceived notions... I will inform you about your afterlife.
"This is Hell. When a human dies, it has a spirit which (usually) goes to Heaven. Our Father is patient and forgiving with human mistakes. Humans tend not to have much recognition of the incredible multitude of factors at play in the sculpting of their lives, but their free will tends to be guided by those... well, in short, when someone makes a mistake any momentary ill-will is often eventually passed on to others. Through that subtle guidance, the way they react to situations sometimes deviates from their nature...
"All humans are inherently good. That waterfall of mistakes is the embodiment of the original sin. In fact, you are the only human in Hell.
"The road we are walking leads to the gates."
The gates of Hell? The gates of Heaven?
"Time is not analogous to that of the human realm, here. Ever since I was cast out, I have heard your voice - once every hundred, or thousand years. I once heard your voice twice in a day. Once, it was twenty thousand and four hundred years between. I always heard your gratitude to me."
I always thanked the Dark Lord after something good happened. Not seriously. It was a joke when I started in my teenage years, but soon it became a philosophical exercise. The activity of thanking someone recognises that something good happened, and that made me happier. It felt like a lot of good things happened to me, in my life. Satan began to openly weep.
"Michael, to me, you are the most important human since the Son of our Father. He was human too, you know. He was the Son of the Father but he was human too. He started a movement. A movement of goodness. An absolvement for the sins of the humans.
"Your gratitude to me, I was not so narcissistic to enjoy it in vanity. Your gratitude is symbolic. You too, like the Son, pushed the humans a little bit further towards their own goodness. Actually, you were the tipping point. To me, it has happened, but to you, it is one day in the future - one day, when all humans are good to each other. One day, when all humans are true to their nature. One day, when all humans become one with our Father."
Where are we going, Satan? What gate are you taking me to? I asked in my head. The tears streaming down his face seemed to catch an odd light, and I swore for one second - at a strange angle - I saw myself, my lips moving, posing the question. This realm is beyond my perception.
"Michael... you are taking me home." | It all happened so fast. One second James was walking across the street and the next he was on the front of a bus. The bus screeched to a halt, throwing James forward and to the ground. As his head hit the ground he heard a sharp *crack* and it was over. James Reginald Smith III was dead. Blackness quickly enveloped his vision and he lost all sensory input. However as soon as he died, he was back. However things were different. He looked around to see he was in a pure white office with only a white desk and a chair. In that chair was an old man hunched over a large book. He looked up from it with a bored expression and forced a smile.
"Name please." He asked
"Oh, uh it's James; James Smith III. Could you tell me where I am?" James asked as he approached the man. However the man didn't answer and instead buried his head deeper in the book. As James got closer he saw it was just a long list of names and numbers. The man would flip between pages as if looking for something. After a time he smiled and pointed to a name.
"James Reginald Smith III?" The man asked.
"Yes, how did you know my middle name?" James answered.
"Since it says here your an atheist it seems I have some explaining to do. You died. Now you are in Purgatory to be judged by me, Saint Peter, on if you go upstairs or downstairs." Saint Peter said.
"Um, ok, well, I already know where I'm going." James said.
"Where?" Peter asked skeptically.
"Upstairs. I was a regular volunteer at the nursing home, I owned a chain of Goodwills, did multiple tasks of backbreaking work for the unable and built houses for the poor." James said smiling.
Peter returned to the book and shook his head "You could not be more wrong it says here you're pretty face is going to hell." Peter said
"Why? I don't want to go to hell. I did so much good!" James said
"It says here you were gay, an atheist and praised Satan himself for your good fortune." Peter said with a surprised look "That is a first. A gay, atheist, devil worshipper".
"That? I just did that for shits and giggles! My partner and I both said that! I don't even worship Satan!" James said as he grew more agitated.
"Speaking of Satan." Peter interrupted "He is your biggest fan."
"He's what?" James asked in suprise. He was suddenly cut off by a red outline of a large rectangle appeared in the floor next to him. The outline turned more crimson as time went on until it looked like blood. Then the white floor gave way and fire began to lick the edges; soon followed by the wails of millions of agonized souls. It was then a stairwell made of living humans formed and a loud thumping was heard. The thumping grew louder as James began to fear more and more what was coming up the stairs, however Peter continued to read the book as if nothing was happening. Just as the thumping reached the top of the stairs a large form loomed in the darkness of the stairwell. However once it's piercing yellow cat-like eyes connected with James the form began to morph. It's bones sounded like they were breaking as it shrunk and moved. As the snapping sounds subsided the figure finally moved into the light of Purgatory. It looked like a regular dude. About 5 feet tall, average weight and black hair. It's only distinguishing features were the yellow eyes and sharp teeth. It stared James directly into the eyes and smiled.
"Hello James." It said with a voice of a young boy, middle aged man and old man at the same time.
"H-h-hello." James said nervously.
Peter looked up and frowned "Beelzebub! You know you can't be here. The Boss doesn't like you so close to him" Peter said in a hushed voice.
"Shut up you old geezer! I'm here to collect my idol." Satan said motioning to James.
"Your what?" James asked nervously.
Satan spun and stared at James "First of all, hello, my name is Satan and I rule Hell. I absolutely love you." He said with a large and vaguely scary smile.
"Why? What did I do?" James asked.
"You gave me unneeded praise whenever something good had happened. It was the first time someone didn't praise me and ask for Armageddon in the same sentence." Satan said with beaming eyes.
"Thanks?" James said.
"Don't encourage him James. Satan get out of here!" Peter said.
"Shut up Peter! Come on James, let's go." Satan said as he grabbed James's wrist. James tried to hold his ground but Satan was (predictably) stronger. As he inched closer to the stairwell James looked around to find something to grab onto. His search was in vain however and he let out a last scream in vain as the hatch closed.
(Sorry for the weak ending, I'm never good at those)
| 2015-08-17T01:18:49 | 2015-08-16T22:16:24 | 1,022 | 122 |
[WP] As a small child, you walked in on Death taking your great grandmother. You unexpectedly became friends and Death began to visit you often for tea and conversation. You're now very, very old and Death has become quite evasive on subject of your ultimate demise. | I remember the first time we met, he was taking my poor old granny. He realized my presence and the tension grew. "How did she pass? Was it painful?" I asked wistfully.
"No. She died naturally in her sleep, she felt no pain," he said.
The realization that my great grandma just died hit me like a steamroller. She was the last of my family. Tears started flooding my eyes, blurring my vision. My heart began racing, and I fell to my knees. Instead of just stealing my grandma and leaving me in the cold, dark pit of despair, he did something else that I did not see coming. He slowly laid my grandma back on her flimsy bed, and began to float over to me. I was picked up from my kneeling position and comforted by death himself.
"Everything will be okay, dying is only natural," he said. "It can happen to anyone."
From that moment on, we formed a connection. To be friends with death was very strange. Sometimes I would feel his icy chill on the back of my neck when I went to the orphanage. I could even feel his presence at night and sometimes we would talk about how others at the orphanage would die, and he said not to announce how they would die.
The orphanage was two stories and all the rooms for the children were upstairs. One morning, Walter was being a jerk to everyone again, and I decided to tell him some information that he might not have wanted to hear. I whispered to him that he was going to die that day from falling down the stairs. He looked at me like I was absolutely crazy.
"Time for breakfast!" the Matron said.
We all started running down the stairs except Walter. I must have gotten to him because he became very cautious when going down the stairs. He took every step very carefully, but I knew that didn't matter. Even though he stepped so lightly, he fell because it was set in stone.
Over the years he started coming over to my apartment and we started having tea weekly. I got older, met someone, and settled down. The person I married didn't become afraid when I introduced her to Death, and she started having tea too. We had tea every Friday, but one Friday, my wife was late. Death informed me that she got into a car accident and passed away seconds before I got the call from the hospital. Death still comforted me and helped me through all the tough times that ensued.
45 Years Later
Age 80
"Hey Death."
"Hey buddy." he said
"Let's start." I said. I realized that his posture was different, I assumed he was sad and I asked "What's wrong?"
He looked off into the distance as if he was reminding himself of something, and he slowly looked in my direction. "I don't really want to talk about it," he said. I knew that there was something fishy about how he responded.
We continued and started to drink our tea. We conversed for the next half an hour, and he then he looked straight at me and said "I'm so sorry." I was stunned. My heart started racing and a pain enveloped my chest. "It was nice meeting you," I said. I wasn't mad, and I didn't cry. I knew that my life was limited, and having such a good friend since I was eight was such a blessing. I felt my soul leave my body as Death carried it away.
Thank you for reading!
| "Come in, come in!" The old man wheezed, opening the door for his oldest friend to step through the threshold.
"Thank you, James." The well-dressed young man entered the house, piercing white eyes scanning the room, noting the dust that piled higher each visit. Pictures hung on the wall, the paper cracking and falling to the worn grey carpet, as if his friend lived in the eye of an endless snowstorm.
"Coffee?" James asked, hurrying to the kitchen as fast as his desiccated old bones could carry him.
"You already know the answer, my friend." The man responded, his guess finding
fidelity in the sharp whistle of the kettle, which had been brewing before he'd even arrived.
James returned with two mugs of tea, sitting down at the table where the young man waited. "Do you still add a teaspoon of Jim Bean?" He asked with a wry smile.
The old man rasped a chuckle, "We're not at Uni anymore. This liver isn't what it used to be. Besides, you could never get drunk. One of the few things I don't envy about you."
Death laughed, and took a sip from his mug. After setting it down on the mahogany table, he clasped his hands underneath, unsure of what to say.
"Do you remember Halloween in '65? When we pranked the dean?" James grinned at his companion. "When you did all that spooky cloak of darkness shit in his office?"
"Not the most...professional use of my abilities." The young man responded, pinching the bridge of his nose with a small, embarrassed grin. The pair laughed, and shared stories from James's life.
As the irreverence settled down, Death looked at James, his face betraying maudlin that he desperately tried to hide. James stood up and walked over to a photograph above the fireplace. "Remember this?" He asked, Death joining him to see the picture of a young James at his college graduation, standing alone with his degree.
"I was there. Right there," the young man responded, pointing to young James's left where he had stood all those years ago.
"That's where you met Cassandra, right?" Death asked, wringing his hands nervously.
"Ah, Cassie. Such a lovely woman, and all caught up on a nobody like me."
"You would have made a happy couple."
"As could we have." James said bluntly. "Or not. We've had this talk many a time, I remember."
The young man sighed. "We have. And I have stood by that decision. I am not in the business of making choices extorted by burdens of the heart, James."
"Heart?" The old man coughed another raspy chuckle. "Maybe I just wanted to share a bed with a god just to say I did."
Death chuckled quietly.
The old man turned his attention back to the photo. "When is it my time exactly, then?"
The question caught Death off guard. "You know I can't talk to you about work."
"When I stood up to stare at this memory with you, I stepped out of more than just my chair. I think you can tell me now."
Death frowned, and turned his head back to the table. White eyes beneath furrowed brows saw the lifeless James, his body slumped back against the chair, a slight smile on his lips.
"I am sorry. Usually, I am not. This is business that all mortals must conclude. But... I'm sorry, James."
The now youthful spirit of James smiled at his oldest friend. "I am not sad, nor afraid. How could I be?"
Death grasped the spirit's hand, and readied for departure.
"I loved my life. But with your company, I have learned to love Death just as much."
The two embraced, and the room was empty. Two tea mugs sat empty on the mahogany table, wallpaper fell like snow to the carpet, and dust piled on the mantle, above which stood two pieces of wire where a photo once hung.
| 2016-08-01T12:18:03 | 2016-08-01T11:57:43 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] While walking, you notice everyone recoiling from a young woman. you speak to her to find out why. through her surprise, she explains she is death and everyone else sees a person based on how they feel about the concept of death. You've never seen a more beautiful or inviting person.
Please feel free to finesse the topic, genders, or concept to accommodate your own personal preferences or circumstances. | Everything- from the way her eyes caught midday's sunlight, to the vibrant smile she wore even when a hundred sneering faces bore down upon her- was perfect. A beauty so vibrant I swear the world around her looked to come alive just a *little* bit more.
And yet, it seemed that no one agreed. Quite the opposite, judging by the ushering of children from her sight.
Sometimes I think back to that day, when I saw her. It brings a certain warmth to my heart when it starts to ice over. I was only six at the time, but I'll never forget her.
"Why's everyone scared of you?" I asked, tugging at her skirt. "You're so pretty."
It was her who then looked oddly at me. "You think so?"
"Yeah, you're like a movie star!"
"I've dabbled in Hollywood," she said with a laugh. "Then again, that's not saying much. You want to know why they hate me?"
I nodded with the fervor of a curious child.
"Everyone sees me differently. Usually, people are scared. They hate me because I remind them of what is inevitable."
"What's that mean?" I asked.
"Do you know what death is?"
I nodded again, slower this time.
"What comes to mind when you think of it?"
I thought hard, staring into the concrete. "I know that when Mr. Pebbles went away, my Mommy used that word. It's when things go away for a long time, right?"
The woman smiled at me. "Yes, a very long time at that. They don't ever come back here. Doesn't that frighten you?"
"Hmm. No, I don't think so."
"Why is that?"
"Well, I think it'd be really boring if we were here forever. Besides, Mr. Pebbles hurt a lot. Wherever he went, things hurt less for him."
She got down on one knee and touched my face, much to the horror of everyone around us. "You're a sweet child, but there's much you've yet to learn."
"I bet there's all kinds of stuff, yeah. But wherever we all go at the end, I bet it's something really cool."
"Maybe." She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it and stood up. "I'll let you find it all out for yourself. We'll meet again, someday. You might not be happy to see me."
It was my turn to smile at her. "I can't wait to see you! Maybe we'll see each other wherever Mr. Pebbles went."
"Unfortunately, I think we will." And in just a mere moment, it was like she had never been there. To this day, I wonder if I'll still see her the same way. I worry I might not.
But I remember her smile, and all doubt disappears like she did on that sunny summer day.
-----
*/r/resonatingfury* | She didn’t like to talk to me, I could tell, and I wondered why she did it. I never asked her out loud of course, I didn’t want to mess it up. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
We had lunch by ourselves and she told me of her life. It was an ironic thing, but she was quite active. She lived in a home by the lake. An endless lake with dark waters that moved to show the million faces of the currently dying. It was always winter there, or autumn. She said she never could tell. When she was out, and she was out often, she was always caught up in some drama, some excitement.
“I always come at the end of a story,” she told me.
I laughed because I wanted her to like me. At first I thought she was insane. She called herself Death, and she meant it. Eventually, she proved it to me. And proved it, she did.
No one spoke to her, they all recoiled. I wondered why; I mean she was so beautiful. Was it intimidation? I didn’t know until she took me to her house. It was the home by the lake. It had taken me quite some time to make conversation with her and I was reeling in disbelief. From small talk to her home, I had made it with such a wonderful girl.
She told me to sit out on the porch and we ate mangoes. She liked them, was all she said. The lake was beautiful and it was cold out and the million voices floated in a winter’s chill.
“So what do you do?” she asked.
“Shouldn’t you know if you’re Death?” I asked. I was trying to play hard to get.
“I don’t concern myself with living.”
“Well I don’t do anything.” I didn’t mean to say it how I did.
She looked out to her lake and told me to come. I followed her to the edge and stared at a face, swirling in misery. There was no jumping in the water. I stared into the face’s cold eyes, feeling its pain, making a connection. Then we were there.
The boy had fallen from a tree. It was hot wherever we were. He stared at me, pleading as if I could help. He refused to look at her. He opened his mouth but the life had evaporated. His body was dead, his consciousness dying. She lifted him as if he were a baby, cradled him, and he cried like one. I wondered how no one heard, but no one seemed to care.
“I guess that’s that,” she told him.
There was the sound of snapping, sharp thunder almost. She rested him back as we had found him.
“They don’t like that,” she said. “He had so much life remaining. They don’t like me taking it away. I don’t like it either.”
I felt sick. Before I could talk we had come back to her house and were standing beside the lake.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“There’s room for another face to rise.”
We finished our lunch, but I hardly ate. Death looked to be in pain and she stared out into the cold. I knew I would have to leave soon. I didn’t know what to say. She was still beautiful. Finally I asked her:
“Why did you bring me here?”
“Well, you looked desperate. You looked lonely. You looked like you needed someone to talk to. Someone to let you know that you exist. I guess I just felt sorry for you. I didn’t want you to end up killing yourself.” | 2016-10-01T21:14:14 | 2016-10-01T20:43:03 | 1,643 | 1,036 |
[WP] As a child, you were always able to lucid dream, meaning you can control your dreams. One day, as an adult, you wake up to find out you can also control your reality. | Playing God.
Everyone's got their power fantasies, don't they? We all love the brutal and violent gangster because of one thing, he is in control. He isn't prey to vices and influences, to be the Don is to cast those aside in favour of one thing: power.
We celebrate the violence on screen. We applaud the way he rids himself of problems, a simple nod of the head and another one rolls. We love the spectacle.
Imagine it, being able to control the world. Close your eyes and think of it hard. Really, really think about what it would be like to be in total control of the world. You could have any man, any woman, any person. Every day, you could live as a king! Celebrities at your fingertips, playing golf with Obama one day and standing with the Pope the next. You could even set in motion your own moon mission, wipe the memories of everyone and say those famous words as if they'd never been said before:
>One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind
But that's just scratching at the surface of possibility — remember, you're playing God. You can reshape the world as you desire. Eliminate national borders in a single thought and bring about a universal language. In fact, you can even draw up plans for an alien race to invade earth. A realistic re-enactment of 'War of the Worlds'.
Conspiracy theories? All yours. The world leaders are now lizardmen in flesh suits and you are the main character who is going to solve it all!
Endless fun. Endless entertainment. Endless danger, only limited by your creativity.
You could sky dive and pause at the last minute. Reverse time and record it. Be the best at everything. Have your perfect family and a lover that never dulls.
Never. Dulls.
What a lie...
You ever watch the Matrix?
We need challenges. If you, God of the universe, have everything at your disposal, what's there left to do? Enter a running race? You're not in a race against people, you're in a competition against self-control.
Fight off an alien invasion that will doom life in the universe, singlehandedly? You're not fighting them, you're fighting against self-control.
Anything you do becomes a test against you and self-control. I've wiped my memories countless times, and still there's nothing.
I've tried escaping, like I once did as a child. But reality is not a dream. And no matter what I do, I am in utter, and total control of all but one thing.
The one thing I want the most. The one thing I cannot have.
Death.
****
Visit **/r/AlexUrwin** to see the written dreams of another redditor!
| I lived in a grey city.
When I woke up, it would be the same every day. Same clothes, same journey, same work, same people, same food. I sometimes looked into the mirror at night and wondered how the hell I managed to end up this way. In my life, nothing new happened and nothing new was going to happen. I came to accept it for what it was.
The one solace I had was my escape into my dreams every night. Since I was a child, I've been able to control my dreams. When I sleep, I escape into a new world. One night, I'm at a glistening golden beach, with an endless sea of the richest blue stretched out in front of me. Another night I'm on top of a snow-covered mountain, staring into green streaks of light in the starry skies.
There aren't only landscapes in my dreams. They also contain people, friends, that actually seem to care about me. I can talk to them whenever I want about anything and they always know the right things to say, of course, because they are a part of me. One night, I had a dream that is etched into my memory ever since.
I was relaxing by a lake in a mountainous valley. The sky was clear and my mind was at peace, I walked around for a while before conjuring up a friend to talk to. My friends were always the same people, this person was Michael, a placid but calming figure who talking to was like therapy. After some generic small talk he asks the question "How is life like on the other side anyway?"
I paused. The only reason he would ask this question would be because my mind commanded him to ask it, trying to avoid a headache, I answered it anyway.
"Pretty terrible, to be honest."
"And why is that?"
"Well, it's not like here. I can't go anywhere. I'm stuck in an endless loop of monotony. I can't go to places like here, or talk to people like you. I just - can't."
"And why can't you do that?" Michael asked the question as if he was an adult talking to a child. His mind was pure, all he knew was comfort. But he had a sort of omniscience that made me question how I would respond to him.
"Because life isn't a dream. In a dream, I have control. I cannot control my reality."
"You have as much control in reality as you do in these dreams. Nothing is stopping you from going to places like this, or meeting people like me. Nothing is stopping you apart from your own restrictive mindset. You've been trapped in your own prison, not realising that the keys to escape were in front of you all along."
He looked me square in the eyes. "You must stop retreating to your dreams. This is not real, I am not real, and the more idyllic you make your dreams the more depressing your reality will seem when you wake up. It is dangerous, what you are doing. The only way to stop this is to wake up. Wake up."
I woke up that morning to a beautiful blue sky that radiated warmth through the windows. I completed my morning routine and packed a suitcase with musical rhythm in every step. I grabbed my car keys and headed on my journey, not to my workplace, but to the road that leads outwards. On a road that leads away from the city, in a dream-like trance I sped forwards. | 2017-01-15T11:01:31 | 2017-01-15T10:48:46 | 34 | 16 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later | The sounds and smells of New York assaulted John's senses. After being gone from the city for 10 years, he still love/hated the smell of New York City in the summer. It was dark on the street. Darker than a street should seem. Looking up he noticed the lights had been busted out on the light pole.
He heard a soft *John* behind him and he turned. She had gotten her hair cut. He couldn't tell the color but it looked like she'd gone back to being a brunette. He always did have a thing for brunettes.
He smiled. "Hey. Fancy meeting you here."
She surged forward and hugged him fiercely. She had grown taller than him years ago, but he couldn't begrudge her that. Even as a kid she'd been all legs. She was slim again.
"I can't believe your here!" She cried with tears in her voice.
"Yeah I'm here. How longs it been?"
"Almost four years now. Johnny is about to turn four in a few weeks."
"Wow. He's getting big. I can hug you now with no baby bump."
She laughed remembering the last time he'd come to her. She'd gone into labor unexpectedly and was alone without her cell phone nearby. Their reunion, however, was cut short by a shout from the end of the block.
"Ay lady! That kid botherin' ya?"
"No." She shouted back. "He's with me!"
"A'ight. I noticed those bums trynna follow ya but I sen em off." Said a gruff Italian walking towards the pair.
"Oh goodness. Thank you so much. I thought I had shaken them off and then when I realized I hadn't I was just all turned around." She responded, her hand on her chest. *ah* thought John. *That's why I'm here*
"Yeah, fageddaboudit. Look, yous gotta be careful in the Bronx. You can't be out here at night with just a kid keeping you company, ya know what I'm sayin. Those bums tried telling me some stuff but I told em to tell their story walkin."
John stuck out his hand. "Hey man, thanks a lot for that. I didn't realize she'd attracted some unwanted attention. I'm gonna get her home safe now."
The Italian shook his hand back and said, "Yeah, you do dat son. Go on up to White Plains Road. See if you can catch a cab. Don't be taking ya moms on no subways round here, ya hear? Yous guys get home safe, a'ight."
"Will do, sir." John responded with a respectful nod.
The pair turned and walked up the road towards the tell tale screeching of a subway car stopping towards where the man had pointed.
They walked in silence for a moment.
"I'm not sure how I feel about being mistaken for your mother now."
They shared a good laugh before lapsing into silence. As they neared the busy, populated street they both slowed. For a few moments they just watched the people passing. John loved how alive the scene in front of them was.
"Even with as much as it's changed, it's still the same."
She smiled wistfully, watching his face. Her eyes seemed intent on taking in every facial expression of his. He meet her gaze with that youthful grin she'd fallen in love with as a kid.
He noticed the lines on her face. No doubt some put there by his namesake. Some by grief she'd experienced. And the rest by time. Time that he'd lost.
"It's good to see you again." she whispered.
He grinned even wider. "It's good to be seen!"
He didn't want to see the tears in her eyes that he knew were inevitable. She should always be smiling. She was safe now and he could feel himself fading again.
"You tell your boy I said hey. Take care of yourself... Mom."
She huffed through her tears and stared as her once childhood love faded from sight with that eternal boyish grin. Even though he'd been gone for 10 years, the grief was always fresh. But it was accompanied by the comfort that her guardian angel was still watching over her.
Edit: Spelling. Did this on my phone. | It seems like every time I ran into Amelia Fowler she was in the middle of some kind of catastrophe. Just last week she had a flat tire at two in the morning twenty miles out of town, with no one around but cows and cotton. A month ago it was in line at the grocery store with a shopping cart the contents of which almost brought a tear to my eye and a check card that couldn't cover even that. I helped. I couldn't not help. It didn't matter that we'd been done for eight months, or dated for three weeks. She was a person, and she needed someone, and I was there. That's what you do in small towns like this.
I guess that's why we started dating in the first place. The "in need" part, not the small town part, although that was probably some of it, too. When you are fifteen and everything feels like it's the most important thing in the world, that is enough. Sitting in the back of my old truck, I promised her the world and she blushed and was beautiful and we loved each other. But the Fowler clan was a train wreck. Amelia was abused, neglected, addicted, and already working on her criminal record then, at sixteen. I should never have gotten involved with her. The whole thing blew up less than a month after it started.
Eventually I realized she must have been getting herself in trouble around me on purpose, like as a way to control me or something. That was the kind of thing a girl like her would do. It's not her fault; not exactly, but I wasn't going to be manipulated like that. I started distancing myself from Amelia. Still I would run into her from time to time, and always she was in the middle of some crisis. At first I was kind with her. Then I was patient. I became firm. I became Angry. Finally I became cruel. I said mean things to her about who she was and how she lived. I still helped. You have to help people. But I wish I hadn't said those things.
As time went on, I ran into Amelia less and less often. I heard from a friend of a friend that she had gotten herself knocked up by and then married to some office worker type. Unexciting, but stable. That sounded like a good thing, and I was happy for her.
Gradually, I began to forget about Amelia Fowler.
...
It was really unusual for the bastards to take us anywhere. They mostly liked to keep us locked up in our shitty little rooms unless it was time for medicine or "food." Today they'd gotten it into their piss-for-brains heads to drag us old geezers out to the park for some "Eeh-an-richmint," as that lousy dick of a head nurse pronounces it.
Some of the geezers who have decent families are going to have a nice afternoon frolicking in the Goddamned daisy or whatever. My wife is dead. Fuck, most of my kids are dead. They don't tell you about that shit when you're growing up! Life kills people! And the ones who are still alive aren't worth two shits.
So I was looking forward to sitting alone on a hot hillside in the middle of June like the subject of some kind of shitty dollar store painting 'cause it'd make dick feel like he was doing his job.
Anyway, we'd been out there for a little over forty-five minutes, and my ass was killing me. That piece-of-crap lawn chair must have been made in Nicaragua. Why can't shit come from China anymore like in the good old days? When all of a sudden this old biddy, who was hobbling along on her walker, keels over right there on my spot of grass; pissed off the pigeons. I was trying to enjoy the view of the lake and here's this bitch, flopping on the ground clutching at her back pissing and moaning.
So I haul my aching, wrinkly old ass out of my piece-of-shit Nicaraguan chair and kneel down in the stifling heat of that mosquito-infested June morning to see what's wrong. I roll her over and damned if it isn't Amelia Fowler.
"My God it's you!" She exhaled. "I'm having a heart attack. It's my fourth one. I know what they feel like, and I know I'm not going to make it."
"Amelia what is this shit? You think I can't tell a fake heart attack? I did fifteen years with-" I started, but she cut me off.
"Shut up, Frank. I don't know where I would have wound up if I'd have never met you, but I can guess. I'm dying an old woman with a full life instead of a young girl with stupid ideas 'cause of you. I needed to tell you that. I promise I won't need you again."
I yelled for dick, and he stumbled over and bumbled though ECPR, but Amelia was right. She was done for. That was the last time I saw Amelia Fowler. | 2017-03-22T17:37:31 | 2017-03-22T13:26:15 | 37 | 21 |
[WP] If, when you die, you don't get into heaven, there is an option to try again, and get in the next time. There is a man who has been trying for millennia; he has been Ghengis Khan, Hitler, and many other brutal leaders. That man is you, and this time, you're determined to get it right. | I sat at my desk, lazily gazing at the television. Listening to the screaming of innocent civilians. Can't really sympathise with them, I'd become too desensitised to these sorts of things. But, as the second one began to fall over, I realised that I should probably do something. So I turned to the only man who knew what sort of situation I was in. "Lord, what should I do right now?" I asked. He replied "Ghengis, I can't tell you how to get into heaven. You're just going to have to do what you think is best, and continue getting it wrong until you get it right.". I quickly looked back at the television, both buildings had completely crumbled. It was right then when I realised what I had to do. "Assistant!" I yelled. "Yes, Mr. President." He said in a somber voice. "We're going to start a war. A war on terror!". | "Happy Birthday dear Shaurya, happy birthday to you!",
as his friends and family sang the monotonous ritual of a song at his 18th, He looked more lost than usual.
His eyes were moving rapidly,as if he was reading a book floating in front of him. As the song stopped so did his eyes. An unusual look of anger decorated his face. It all came back to him, his past memories a tad late.
He was 6'0 tall, dark skinned and had a stocky build.
"It's about damn tim.." before he could complete his mouth was immediately stuffed with Ladoo's(Indian Sweet) and his face was covered with cake.
After some careful manipulation he was able to get away from the party,
While the adults danced to loud punjabi music with a little help from some old fashioned whiskey, and his friends danced to loud EDM(Electro Dance Music). Shaurya, which was now apparently his name, sat in seclusion, away from the ruckus, on the roof.
"India huh, what does he want me to do this time? be inspired by that old fool Gandhi?"
He looked up at the heavens in anger. The doors were closed on him yet again.
Maybe conquering almost every inch of gods mighty earth,Leading massive armies to war, becoming the most powerful leader of all time wasn't enough.
"Maybe killing the jews was too much?" He burst out laughing. He regretted nothing. His laughter subsided while his anxiety rose, "What now?"
_______________________________________________________________
Hello!, this my first attempt at writing, please give me feedback! Thanks!
| 2017-03-31T14:19:18 | 2017-03-31T09:38:51 | 45 | 10 |
[WP] If, when you die, you don't get into heaven, there is an option to try again, and get in the next time. There is a man who has been trying for millennia; he has been Ghengis Khan, Hitler, and many other brutal leaders. That man is you, and this time, you're determined to get it right. | God, I'm tired. It feels like this shift just never ends.
One of the puppies stirred from sleep. I picked up the clipboard containing its sleep log. Another effort in futility, as the pup decided naptime wasn't quite over yet. With a sigh, I put down the clipboard. No surprise this little half-breed ball of mongrel fur would have to be laz- no. Not this time. *Focus*. This time will be different. Non-threatening. Not even a sweet bit of- Zen. Breathe in... breathe out. That's it.
The pup woke up again, and shrugged itself out from under its fluffy blanket. As it waddled over to examine my left shoe, I grabbed the log again and started a new entry. With a snap, the tip of the pencil broke as I felt something warm and wet spreading down into my sock... | "Happy Birthday dear Shaurya, happy birthday to you!",
as his friends and family sang the monotonous ritual of a song at his 18th, He looked more lost than usual.
His eyes were moving rapidly,as if he was reading a book floating in front of him. As the song stopped so did his eyes. An unusual look of anger decorated his face. It all came back to him, his past memories a tad late.
He was 6'0 tall, dark skinned and had a stocky build.
"It's about damn tim.." before he could complete his mouth was immediately stuffed with Ladoo's(Indian Sweet) and his face was covered with cake.
After some careful manipulation he was able to get away from the party,
While the adults danced to loud punjabi music with a little help from some old fashioned whiskey, and his friends danced to loud EDM(Electro Dance Music). Shaurya, which was now apparently his name, sat in seclusion, away from the ruckus, on the roof.
"India huh, what does he want me to do this time? be inspired by that old fool Gandhi?"
He looked up at the heavens in anger. The doors were closed on him yet again.
Maybe conquering almost every inch of gods mighty earth,Leading massive armies to war, becoming the most powerful leader of all time wasn't enough.
"Maybe killing the jews was too much?" He burst out laughing. He regretted nothing. His laughter subsided while his anxiety rose, "What now?"
_______________________________________________________________
Hello!, this my first attempt at writing, please give me feedback! Thanks!
| 2017-03-31T15:56:19 | 2017-03-31T09:38:51 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] Lycanthropy is a real disease that perplexes everyone. One interesting fact about it is that it isn't restricted to wolf forms, but can extend to bear forms, bat forms, panther forms and a few others. The rarest of them all is dragon form, which you have been diagnosed with
Edit: Well this prompt exploded
Yay for me I hit 5000 karma... and it's going up still... | You know the old term, "keyboard warrior"? Well, that fits me to a "t".
I've fought 'em all; the Goons of SA, the Maddox fanboys, the /b/-tards of... /b/. I fought in the Flame Wars, man. I've beheaded trolls, and disarmed White Knights. I. Have seen. Some shit.
So when I got diagnosed with lycanthropy, maybe I didn't take it as seriously as I should have. I mean, I'd basically been given leave to drop the biggest fucking troll line *ever.* This shit was fucking *sweet.*
I get home later that night, after a couple rounds with the boys, yeah? I'm feelin' good; loose even. I hop online, and *right off the bat,* somebody's gotta start some shit. Well, Old Son, you know what I say to that?
*"FUCK YOU, I'M A DRAGON!"* | (I'm new here. Haven't written much. Don't kill me.)
"What a waste of an existence" I muttered to myself, as I walked past the morning office goers in the Munich train station. People stuck in a rhythmic drag of work and home, with no direction in life but to survive. I pitied their mundane existence.
You see, I was different. Dragon-kin is what they called it in the stories. 'Once a month, he transforms, to his untamed form, a dragon. Overcome by feral rage, he plunders and he kills, leaving only death and destruction behind.'. Of course, the stories rarely tell the truth. They don't know the calmness that overcomes me when I transform. The enhanced senses, the sight of the moon reflected on the river as I fly above it, and the warmth that rises in me, fit enough to release a stream of fire that could melt rocks. But most of all they don't know of the feeling of invincibility I get, the feeling that I'm superior to any of these rats scurrying to their little holes, the feeling that keeps me sane. I could end them all, if I wanted. But I don't intend on doing it, not any time soon.
Instead, I shall fly to my hill. I shall watch the city from the distance. Observe it bustling with meaningless excitement. I shall roar into the night, sending fear into the hearts of every living being in my vicinity. And I shall rest easy, comforted by the fact that I am superior to any form of life in existence. | 2017-05-20T07:09:19 | 2017-05-20T06:14:36 | 28 | 19 |
[WP] The government spends all their time focused on exploring space, completely ignoring the enormous void that is the ocean and you're one of the few people who knows why. | "How long have we known about this?" I whispered, in awe.
"Since the 1940s." Commander Hays said, curtly. "A US submarine discovered and entered the hidden pressure lock off the coast of California in '43, I believe it was. More locks have been discovered since then -- including the one we used to get here, of course."
We stood in a vast, domed chamber made of some strange striated material that resembled both metal and stone. All I knew was that it was somewhere under the ocean. I'd transferred from the USS Nimitz where my helicopter had landed, to the USS Montana, a Virginia-class submarine. There was a sort of moon pool further back in this cavernous space into which the sub had ascended, where we disembarked after our long journey.
"How deep are we?" I asked, as we walked towards the middle of the chamber, where dozens of personnel worked around a large pedestal-like construction.
"20 kilometers, give or take." he replied, casually.
I stopped in my tracks. "That's impossible -- a structure this size? And what about the *Montana?* That's over ten times its test depth, it would have been crushed!"
"The pressure locks, Doctor." Hays explained. "We're still trying to understand how they work, but they protect the underwater passages -- as well as anything inside them -- from the pressure."
"Unbelievable..." I muttered, looking around in renewed wonder.
A thin, older man approached us from the group by the pedestal. "Commander Hays! And, Dr. Wilson, I presume?"
"Yes..." I said, distractedly shaking the old man's hand.
"I'm Dr. Norris." he introduced himself. "I suppose we should give you the presentation, first of all. It's sort of a tradition."
I glanced at the Commander, who nodded, with a slight smirk. The doctor led me to the pedestal, which I now noticed was etched with fine-lined shapes and designs. "This is a recording device of some kind, used by the inhabitants of this place...we estimate it to be between 50,000 and 100,000 years old."
My jaw dropped. "Are...are you serious?"
Norris smiled, wryly. "Very, Dr. Wilson." He depressed one of the shapes, and abruptly the image of some kind of strange craft appeared in the air.
"True holography!" I exclaimed.
"Yes." Norris confirmed. "We believe this to be a historical narrative. This shows the...well, let's not mince words -- the alien vessel that brought the inhabitants of this structure to Earth."
By this point I was too stunned to say anything, so Norris just carried on, tapping the pedestal every so often to change to a new image.
"This seems to depict them fleeing their home world in advance of some implacable enemy's approach...this shows them travelling the galaxy, hiding on various worlds..." he narrated, as he showed each event in turn. "...and this shows them preparing to leave their latest hiding place. Earth."
"Why did they leave?" I asked.
"The same reason they left everywhere else -- they discovered that their enemy knew where they were." The Commander interjected.
A chill ran down my spine. "You mean..."
"Yes," Dr. Norris confirmed, somberly. "If our...former guests were correct, their enemy traced them here. They found out, and departed well in advance. It is important to note, the aliens did not possess some form of fantastic faster-than-light travel. They traveled the stars as we have always theorized would be necessary for vast interstellar distances -- over hundreds, thousands, even tens of thousands of years."
"They're long gone now." the Commander said, darkly. "But their enemy, the foe that ravaged their world even with all their advanced technology...they're *still coming."*
"This is why." I suddenly realized. "This is why we've focused on space exploration, when so much of our own oceans are unexplored. Because when we really started exploring the oceans, we found *this..."*
The Commander nodded. "We've been studying it for decades. We've reverse engineered some technology, but the going has been slow and we need *more.* It's why we've brought you, and all the personnel to this location over the years. Because if the human race is going to survive once those 'enemies' reach Earth...*"*
"...then when they get here, we need to be *gone."* I finished for him. | Twenty men and women all in long white coats, tablets under their arms and half of them spectacled, all argue around a screen with several calculations on how to escape earth’s gravitational pull; Angus Bermuth, the last man in the room, steps forward and instead tells them why.
“The last days are coming, children. Play your silly games and get us off this wretched marble of death before it comes,” says Angus.
“Were you transferred here just to annoy us?” asks Doctor Eris Yarle – the project lead.
“Doctor Yarle, did you come from Oceanic Development? Have you seen what creatures lurk beneath?” asks Angus.
“Once again, we have no time for your speculations,” says Eris.
“I have nothing to speculate over besides when it happens. It is coming, Eris. It is coming and you cannot stop it. We can only escape. That’s why I’m here. Not to tell you how to do your jobs, but you know why you’ve got jobs at all. Men, women – the End Kraken cometh. Put on your raincoats and let’s get to rocket buildin’.”
***
Angus sits in the terminal not twenty-six miles away from the ocean. The sun behind the rocket glows orange with the first breath of night. The moon, enormous as it sits just above the horizon, it glows with the pearl luminescence as the End Kraken’s eye. Today is the day they leave. Angus grips tightly onto his cane, his white-haired knuckles aching and tight for the impending launches.
Eris stands beside him, tall and blonde and with her glasses crooked on her face. She wears two different shoes and her hair is barely bundled into a bun. As she bites her nails, the first rocket burns. Smoke exhale to the grounds around them, fuming the warm landscape with living gray clouds. The fire beneath the rocket burns so hot they dare not look. Angus shields his eyes, unable to see if Erin donned her goggles.
When the clouds vanish and the fires burn only in the sky, the tentacle sweeps across the land. The very tip the size of a highway, the girth of the tentacle stretches city-wide. With one motion the land is cleared to rubble. There is no escape. The End Kraken has cometh.
Angus takes Eris by the wrist and tugs her until her attention breaks from doomsday and towards his own eyes.
“We can kill it. I’ve been planning for this. I have a contingency, Doctor Yarle. But it will not be pretty.”
Eris’ mouth, small, gapes in absolute horror. Her grip becomes weak and icy. “Anything. We must do anything.”
And then it rises from the ocean, vast tsunamis break through across the rubble. The sky is filled with a creature of incomprehensible size. It does not block the sky – it is now the sky.
Where the moon would be was an eye, ever-black and staring right at Angus.
“Anything later. Running now,” says Angus.
***
“This won’t work, it can’t work,” says Eris.
“But it must,” says Angus.
Eris drags her thumb across the terminal. She types in six digits and then presses her hand flat to the glass pane. The screen response with green text. “You kept the prototype?”
“I did. And I put nuclear material in it,” says Angus.
“Where did you get the clearance to-“
“You think I got put on this project just to crack the whip, Doctor Yarle? Press the button. I have the clearance for onboarding but not for launching.”
“So you put a nuke in our guided rocket?” says Eris.
Angus meets eyes with Eris. Her pupils are like the bottom of the ocean, full of infinite dread. She swallows air and slams her thumb against the screen.
From the new window, they watch. The prototype twists on hits platform. It would never escape Earth from her. But it sure as hell can enter a beak.
It fires and the End Kraken opens its canyon maw. Its tongue pointed like a needled mountain peak. The rocket continues, twisting, twisting, veering just off course and-
As the End Kraken’s eye notices it, the creature stops, still. The rocket enters.
“Not a nuke. Dozens.”
Boom. The End Kraken cometh in pieces against the glass window. Blue blood splattered and chunks of wet flesh clung.
Eris, wide eyed, jumps until her mismatched loafer fell off, until her glasses straighten.
“We need to build,” says Angus.
“Pardon?” asks Eris. Her eyes like black fires in big lakes of white.
Angus leans onto his cane, his breath heavy and his face glistening with sweat.
“That wasn’t the End Kraken.”
No, Angus thinks. This is just the beginning. In the deep come infinite things vast and incomprehensible. There is no winning. They need more rockets to escape, for this is just one of the End Kraken’s broodlings.
| 2018-06-26T00:47:05 | 2018-06-25T21:46:35 | 29 | 11 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily. | This was a mistake.
When we arrived the whole planet focused on us as though a great beast was questioning who had awoken it far far to soon.
At the start. Before our intentions were known and we offered them a choice of submit or perish they were excited buzzing around in a frenzy that so many other species had when we first came to them. The curiosity in their eyes burned brightly that they could illuminate the dark mysteries of our universe.
Those flames were extinguished in a heart beat. Replaced by the cold dead eyes of untamed fury that knew no fear. Those weren't the eyes of a race that knew only peace. One of their leaders - female nearing the end of their short life cycle - stepped forward her shaking steps were only achieved by the aid of a short stick.
To those present that day it was something that still haunts us. The aged female showed her teeth, eyes closed, lips curled upwards. And her words resounded in everyone of our warriors and in the everyone of their population.
It was a challenge one that we were not ready for. Just as the galaxy is not ready for them.
"Come and take it." | Politics is a hell of a thing. We saw the humans of earth fight among themselves and almost destroy their species. The Hunt Leaders of the time saw it as a fantastic opportunity and petitioned our Supremes for permission to attack.
It was granted. But politics kept us from attacking right away. The first leader assigned to conquer earth barely got permission to recruit. He was replaced for taking too long to organise.
The second managed to actually get a Party together. But that was as far as they got. In the fifth Hunt Leader. The second to break orbit, the first to reach a gravity stable region and jump.
When we arrived in the system containing earth we found the humans had made it to space. There were dozens of orbitals and ships. Most of the ships were transiting between planets, almost as many were split between the failed planetary debris field mid system and the cloud of rocks and ice in the outer system.
We quickly destroyed the orbitals in their habitable zone and kept moving towards the planet. We were met with pleas for peace. To end our attack. That they were a peaceful species and wanted to be friends.
No one had watched them during the intervening years. Such species that nearly destroy themselves rarely do anything interesting. Humans apparently, aren't like most species.
We made orbit around their home planet and quickly dispersed the fleet for landing. We weren't expecting the gently curved wing that appeared at their closet stable gravity point. The dozens of small craft that launched both from it and the planet. The half dozen escorts that accompanied the large craft.
If the Supremes had just allowed the first commander to do what he needed, we would control their system. All those resources. Instead, we arrived to a recovered, advanced, space faring society. One that held it's own against us. | 2019-02-26T09:23:50 | 2019-02-26T08:34:44 | 227 | 123 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily. | This was a mistake.
When we arrived the whole planet focused on us as though a great beast was questioning who had awoken it far far to soon.
At the start. Before our intentions were known and we offered them a choice of submit or perish they were excited buzzing around in a frenzy that so many other species had when we first came to them. The curiosity in their eyes burned brightly that they could illuminate the dark mysteries of our universe.
Those flames were extinguished in a heart beat. Replaced by the cold dead eyes of untamed fury that knew no fear. Those weren't the eyes of a race that knew only peace. One of their leaders - female nearing the end of their short life cycle - stepped forward her shaking steps were only achieved by the aid of a short stick.
To those present that day it was something that still haunts us. The aged female showed her teeth, eyes closed, lips curled upwards. And her words resounded in everyone of our warriors and in the everyone of their population.
It was a challenge one that we were not ready for. Just as the galaxy is not ready for them.
"Come and take it." | The ships navigation algorithm makes an assessment and we land in a part of a large island which the earthlings call "Britain". This particular area is called "Scot-Land" or some such nonsense.
We have to make a good showing, my armed detachment expects no resistance, but intimidation always helps. My men look powerful in their deep blue armour.
The ramp descends and we disembark, marching smartly into the centre of the town, drawing stares from the populace, no doubt afraid of our strange appearance and weapons.
One man, apparently the leader, approaches. "Mate! Whit'ye doin?"
My translator struggles with his accent but informs me that he he is asking me what we're doing here. He must not have heard that we were coming. I smile. "My men and I are hear to take over your pathetic pacifist planet! Surrender and live!". My translator speaks the words a moment after I finish talking.
To my surprise he doesn't look afraid, more puzzled than anything.
"Whit?!" he exclaimed "naw, no that, yer in blue in Clydebank! An' it's auld firm day!"
I don't understand his meaning. My men are getting nervous, there are unhappy looking men and women coming out of local establishments and residences bearing broken glass bottles and various implements clearly meant for some kind of sport.
The man sees this "aww ahm oaff", he says, before running away.
This is the only defeat we ever suffered. While fully prepared for an armed assault from tanks, aircraft and laser weapons, we were not prepared for 'Big Rab McLaughlin' to pick one of us up, apply his forehead to the soldiers nose repeatedly while 'Auld Mary'-who by our estimates of human anatomy was in her 80s - stabbed another in the groin with a knitting needle... | 2019-02-26T09:23:50 | 2019-02-26T08:51:54 | 227 | 110 |
[WP]: Suddenly, everyone with tattoos gains powers related to the tattoo. Tattoos of flames, you control fire. A tattoo of a gecko, you can climb on walls. All dudes with "tribal" tattoos have strangely bonded together. | 'The All Seeing Eye' honestly I just thought it looked cool. I can't exactly 'think' much these days. I rarely get the chance.
I can see the Universe, it truly is beautiful, I see the chaos that created it and the peace that will, or already has, brought it back together.
It's hard to tell these days, these centuries, millennia. Where and when I am is a difficult concept even for an all knowing being. I am everywhere now, every when.
I can see them all down there, I find them profoundly lucky. Some can be heroes, 'I' can do nothing. I am nothing. I am no one. I am truth. I am everything. I am alone.
I want to be me again. | The men lined up, ready to storm the building. They were a brotherhood. No, they were more than that. They were *one*. As they closed their eyes they became a single entity, able to harness massive unnatural physical powers they could not generate on their own. Suddenly, Tyler opened his eyes. Something had occurred to him.
"Hey Paul, Didn't you have another tattoo? From when we went to Cabo that once?"
Paul shook his head, "No, what? No. Come on. There's not much time, and Stephanie only has seconds of air left."
"No, I swear, it was right after that Dave Matthews show. Remember? You got a...what was it? It was a joke, right? God, we were so drunk."
The commander's face reddened with fury "TYLER. YOU NEED TO FOCUS! THE SHADOW CORPS ARE COMING AND THE MEN WITH WOLF TATTOOS ARE NOT FAR BEHIND. THIS. IS. NOT. THE. TIME. FOR--"
Tyler's eyes lit up, "It was a dickbutt! I remember. Right on your left butt cheek. Remember you smoked a blunt and said you wanted a shitpost by your shithole?" He stopped, thinking, "Does that mean you grew a..."
"No!" Paul said, "Commander, could you put a stop to this?"
"Son," the commander said, lowering his fusion rifle, "I think we're all going to need to see that tattoo." | 2019-05-07T09:09:10 | 2019-05-07T09:02:42 | 30 | 20 |
[WP] Instead of heaven and hell, when you die, you find yourself in a room with a six year old girl who invites you to join her tea party. It dawns on you, you're her imaginary friend. | Boom. There I was in a pink room with a little girl.
I felt my chest and patted my body to check for gunshots. Weird. I swore that one cop got me in the chest before I blacked out. I was gonna kill him for that. I knew I was.
I turned to leave the room and get the hell out of this room of color and rainbows and fucking unicorns. I knew I was a bad guy but this was Hell alright.
My hand went right through the door. I fell right through and landed on the ground. Half in and half out as I turned over to see my waist through the door. "What the actual fuck?" I asked myself as I stood up. About I hear "Language!" From the little girl looking at me. "You can't be saying naughty words Mr! Mom says they rot your brain like sugar" she said as she poured air into a cup like tea. "Wait you see me?! Listen you gotta get me out of here. This isn't my home" I told her as I went to walk away. I just sorta phased through the door and began down the steps.
But then another fucking strange thing happened. I hit a fake wall. Can you believe it? I die, I get put into Hell and now I can't leave this place? I began to push against the invisible wall but it actually begins to move. Home free fuckers!
Until I hit the wall again. "Where are you going Dad?" I hear from the little girl again. I stop dead in my tracks. Dad? I'm no dad. I turn to tell this little twerp that I ain't her daddy when I stop dead in my tracks. Right there my gears began to turn. A picture on the little desk in the hallway next to some flowers in a vase. A girl and woman. A woman I knew. A woman I was with. A woman I hadn't seen in 6 years almost.
"Holy fuck you're my kid?!" I yelled. She jumped a bit and yelled "Language! Mommy said that bad words are for adults when no kids are around"
She says some other things but I kinda go into this trance. Like I just stand still and think. I hadn't seen this girl in 6 years. This kid is probably like 6. Did that one night stand land me a kid? No way, she would have called right?
I turn to the kid and point a finger right at her "Me and you gotta have a long chat. I got time and I need a few answers ok?" I ask as kindly as I could as I kneel to look her in the eyes.
Goddamnit, she has my eyes too... | A deep shade of red was the last thing I saw as my eyes closed tightly, never to open again. The paralyzing agony that seared through my veins, centred around the deep gash in my throat through which the slowly coagulating fluid was gushing.
I could feel the warmth of the blood trickling across my chest, dying my favourite white dress red.
It had been a night of completely bad decisions, was one of my final thoughts...
I knew when I left my home only a few hours ago that it was a bad idea.
What was the point in going out to a bar this late at night when I had work in the morning?
Why had I decided to take that shortcut through the back road instead of just walking the few more blocks in the safety of the streetlights?
So, as I lay there, blood saturating my brand new dress, I allowed myself to feel nothing but regret for leaving without telling my mother where I was going? Who would tell her what had happened? Would she be okay?
Barely eighteen and dead, what a twist of fate.
Red was the first thing I saw when my eyes opened again.
That wasn't expected - was I in hell?
I couldn't think of anything that I had done in only eighteen years that could equate to a lifetime of burning flames.
I was corrected quickly when the red that obscured my vision began to shrink only to reveal itself as one of those hideous glittery ribbons that perched itself atop the head of a young girl with long blonde hair.
"Wha..." my voice came out in a garbled mess, too quiet and hoarse to be my own.
Her wide eyes were alight with something I hadn't seen in my own in many years - innocence?
"What's your name?" She asked in her little soprano, not waiting for me to answer as she continued with her line of questioning, "I'm Ellie? Are you my new friend? Will you play with me?"
Surrendering myself to the order disguised as a question, I nodded and followed her over to the small round table surrounded by dolls and teddies. The ground below my feet felt like air, too soft and light to be normal. When I looked down to see the pink carpet through my transparent heels, caked in mud that thankfully wasn't being trailed across the room. Specifically, the pair of brand new scarlet heels I had bought only that morning - I couldn't even bring myself to be too surprised; nothing was typical about this situation.
Was this my life for the foreseeable future? A child's invisible playmate?
Oh Christ, was my old imaginary friend really a dead old man? That was so wrong!
"Your dress is so pretty!"
With that thought, I wondered what I looked like; if I was wearing the same heels as I had when I had been murdered over only a purse holding nothing more than twenty pound and a half used lip balm, chances were, my looks would be scarring this little girl sitting opposite me wearing what could only be described as a childish expression of curiosity. I hoped for her sake that there wasn't a huge gaping hole in my throat, at least.
With a final sigh, I forced a smile onto my previously red painted lips and lifted the tiny teacup that barely fit into my hand, raising it to a position where we could clink both together,
"Cheers."
----
First time I've posted on here after months of reading. Hope this is okay... | 2019-07-27T11:01:31 | 2019-07-27T11:00:48 | 45 | 31 |
[WP] "Apologies, human. Unfortunately, you were accidentally killed by a glactic federation officer during an altercation on your planet. Currently we are constructing you a replacement body, and in return for your ensured silence on our existence, I wanted to ask if you wanted anything... changed." |
“Well, I wouldn’t mind having a bigger dick.” Was my response.
The voice beaming through my thoughts gave off a distressed sounding grunt- the kind that’s usually followed by, “fuck off.”, or something similar.
There was a long pause.
“Fuck off.” Was the response I got.
I was partially thrown off. “What is it, you can’t do that for me?” I asked.
“No, it’s just that out of the twelve humans involved in this complication, you’re the third one to request this. We’ve only gotten to four of you so far, one of which was female.”
I felt attacked. “So, you’re trying to say something about my species? Is there a problem? Do you think we’re a primitive species? That all we care about is reproducing?”
The voice was quick to respond: “Yes.”
If I had working arms (and eyes, or hands, or just any physical form at all), I’d have given the source of the voice a one-way trip Valhalla, propelled by my fist and biological insecurities.
I doubled down. “It’s either you give me a bigger penis, or I’m telling.” I wasn’t sure who I’d actually be telling, but I think it gave me more bargaining leverage.
I heard another distress-fueled grunt. “Here’s the thing, human. I can give you a larger penis. I really can, and I don’t mind doing it either. But this is a professional gig I’ve got going on here. About the first two guys: sure. It’s funny, it’s cool, a unique thing that your species is really ‘big’ on. But do you know how stupid this will look for me? You’re just the third. There are eight more people after you, and half of them left are also male.”
I was at the point where there was no turning back. My big dick energy had taken me too far in. “I don’t give a shit if ‘gave humans bigger dicks’ ends up as a key point on your resume. Your company killed me, and you guys are lucky I’m not going to sue.”
To be honest, I had no idea how alien law worked.
“Ok. If I’m going to put it flatly, human, you’re being a dick.”
“Then give me a bigger one.” I quickly snapped back.
The voice rapidly became offensive.
It boomed with unfathomable intensity. “I was legit going to offer you absolute knowledge, or to perhaps structure your brain to understand true humility and compassion, or maybe even fix that chronic disorder of yours that you still don’t know about. But nope, instead you just want a big dick. So that’s what you get.”
I stuttered a response before being interrupted again:
“That’s right, you’re going to die at the age of forty. Goodbye.”
And that was that. | *Am I... Awake?* were my first thoughts. *I think I am, but...* I couldn't feel any part of my body at all. Or see, or hear. Understandably, panic began to creep in. *Is this sleep paralysis? No, I'd be able to see at least.* Some memory was hovering around the back of my mind. What was it? I tried to grab at the slippery entity. *Ah, right, I was shot by an alien. What a weird dream.*
A foreign voice echoed through my head. **Hello? Sorry it took so long to get this set up. I see you're fairly stable though, that's good. My name is Bob, and that dream was very real. We apologize.**
Well I was sufficiently weirded out. That voice clearly had nothing to do with my own internal voice. I remembered learning that schizophrenia starts to show symptoms around my age. *Wait, Bob? That's not an alien name.* Yep, this is definitely a very weird lucid dream.
**The machine interfacing with your brain is essentially a translator, my name is relatively generic in my culture, and no longer common. As for your dream concerns...**
The words "This is not a dream" appeared as text in my view. *Well, can't read in dreams I guess.*
**Ok, good.** The voice sounded hurried, as if I were a very busy CEO and it was giving me an elevator pitch. **Before you consider the implications of aliens existing in hiding on Earth and your whole... situation, I had a question. In exchange for your silence on our existence, we're constructing you a new body and wanted to know if you wanted anything changed.**
*You really want me quiet, huh. I guess that makes sense, I mean I had no idea you existed before today... yesterday?...*
**Focus!** The voice sounded worried.
*I'm still here, don't worry.* I thought for a while. What would I want changed? I am who I am in part because of what I am. But getting some minor medical problems worked out would be nice. Or would that be included? I'd like to have a better tolerance for sugar. I missed having Lucky Charms. But I was still missing something... Think.. Think! ... I had it.
*I want to be a spaceship.*
**You... want to be a spaceship.**
*Yes, please!*
**Well, we really did lose the human. I was hoping they'd be able to handle the sensory deprivation, but... oh well. Shutting down.**
*No! Wait! I'm still sane. A while ago, I read a story about a person who becomes a computer. He travels star systems as a von Neumann probe, discovering alien life and defending planets. I want to do that. I always thought I'd never get the chance to be a wildlife exobiologist, but here it is.*
**You voluntarily want to be run as a simulation in a computer? You want to give up your chance for a new, real, biological body? That's very rare in our experience.**
*If it means I can achieve my dreams, yes. Plus computers are effectively immortal, right? Sounds like a good plus.*
**You've lasted this long in what's effectively a simulation, and this WOULD be much less work for us. I suppose we can do this for you. You're sure?**
*Yes.*
**Alright, shutting down. See you on the other side.**
I fell unconscious. | 2019-10-28T13:22:27 | 2019-10-28T12:07:57 | 57 | 35 |
[WP] You find yourself in a time loop, where you have to prevent 7 different murders with 7 different murderers, one happening each day of the week. Every time you fail, you are returned to the beginning of the week. But there is just one problem: you are a dog.
(Optional detail: the murder victims are people that have pissed off a violent gang, and you have to uncover their role and reason for being murdered, to prevent their murder. Even preventing what they did to piss off the gang can stop it.)
(Thank you for the gold, u/Lordmurdoc !!!) | It takes time. Time and patience. I don't know if you're aware, but patience is not a quality generally found in dogs.
Try again.
Try, try again.
Try, try, try again.
Quitting is an option, of course. But it isn't, of course. Not really. They have to be saved. They *have* to.
What's a week, to a dog? Time is weird. If the master is gone for five minutes, it feels like an eternity. If he's sleeping beside you, then it's all too short. A week can last forever.
Try, try, try, try again.
The St. Bernard is tired. Lonely. Sad. But it perseveres. *Have to save master.*
The first one. Bite on the girl's shoe. The girl stays home a half hour longer. She isn't found in an alley three days later.
Try, try, try, try, try again.
The second one. Bark loudly at the old man. The old man calls the blue man. The blue man doesn't try to pull over a crazy man. The crazy man doesn't shoot the blue man.
Try, try, try, try, try, try again.
The third one. The monster. The monster wants to eat the little boy. *NO! Bad monster!* Rip. Cut. Tear. Bite. Monsters have to be put down.
Try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try again.
The fourth one. Easy-peasy. Cuddle up to her at the train station. She doesn't get accidentally pushed. Doesn't fall onto the train tracks.
Try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try again.
The fifth one. A child wanders onto out into the street. The mother is busy gossiping with some friends. The St. Bernard grabs the child's sweater firmly with his teeth. Guides it back to the sidewalk. A car comes rushing by, inches away. A loud bark is heard, but when the mother turns to look, there's nothing there.
Try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try again.
The sixth one. The second-hardest. First, steal the bad pills. But that's only the first step. Let her pet you at the bus stop. Steal her handbag. Let her chase you into the shelter. Spill the pills all over the floor. The good people come for her. She's not going to die. If she was, then it would restart. Time to go home.
Try. Try. Try. Never stop trying to save them.
The seventh one. Finally. Master lays on his bed, looking soft and forlorn. He's weak. He's tired. Soon he will die. The hardest one. But he's too late. Master isn't moving. His eyes are closed. His breath is short and broken. Too late. Again.
Try, try, try, try, try, try, **"NO!"**
Master reaches down, impossibly, unbelievably. He pets his beloved St. Bernard. "You can't keep doing this, Russ."
The dog looks up incomprehendingly at his master. "It doesn't matter how many ways you play it, Russ. I'm sick. There's nothing you can do. This is beyond you. You need to move past it. My little sister is gonna need you after I'm gone."
The St. Bernard whines, curls up next to his master. Master strokes his dog lovingly. "You can't save me, Russ. But you saved so many.... You're amazing. But it's time to let me go. Take good care of my sister. I love you, Russ."
The dog whines again, loyal to his master to the last breath. The dog is still there when the nurses arrive to take him away.
Try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, try, and move forward. | How long had it been before I discovered the truth? A month? A year? Time passed strangely in this new body. I had been cursed.
Cursed to live a short and unfulfilling life, abused and ignored.
I had expected to end up in a place where I would never see the sky again. Instead, I had ended up on the streets of my home city - right in front of my own front door.
Only when I had stood and tried to walk up the three stairs that lead to the door, I had fallen back down. I had two legs too many. She had decided it would be funny to make me a stray dog living off scraps behind the local takeout place.
There were setbacks to the new body of course. Not allowed inside. Having to urinate in public. Being able to *smell* what I was eating. The worst, however, was my perception of time. Days lasted much longer than I had ever imagined. People passed by quicker than I could process. Hunger, tiredness, pain - all the emotions and feelings dragged out to last *forever.*
The moments of happiness - though few and far between - lasted much longer too. They were all that kept me going.
It was the same fly, landing on the same spot on my nose that made me finally realize that something was *off.* That the day was repeating - over and over again.
I couldn’t tell you how many times I tried to change the outcome. I went to different places, I tried getting pets from different people.
I even went to *her* shop to see if she had something to do with it. She hadn’t even noticed me of course.
But last night - last night was different.
I had gone to the park. There was a particular dog that I’d become curious about. I couldn’t find her - so I had wandered around the lake shore. A deer-scent caught my attention.
It was at the far end that it happened.
A muffled scream only heard because of my enhanced hearing, and the sound of a scuffle.
I had jogged in that direction, curious as to what was going on. A man was there, holding a woman’s head under the water.
I didn’t think, I didn’t hesitate. I launched myself at him, biting through the soft cotton jacket into the hard flesh of his tensed arm.
Blood had welled in my mouth and he had screamed, frantically trying to shake me off.
I bit harder.
I heard the woman coughing, but not moving. The man was kicking me now, each blow knocking the breath out of me.
As he spun around, he managed to get enough force to lift my body from the ground - hitting me into a tree. I felt a rib crack and failed for a few moments to get up. When I heard the woman cry out again however, I was back up and moving.
This time I bit into his leg. My teeth didn’t break through the denim of his jeans, but they did rip his skin. More blood, and more screams.
At this point, I could hear more people coming. Saw a light bouncing across the water, and the splash as someone tried to take a shortcut from where they were to here.
The man got loose, and I put myself between him and the woman. She smelled of urine and stale perfume. Not the best use of my scent enhanced sense.
The police had come, and the woman had wrapped her arms around me. Petting my ears, my back, my chest as she talked. They asked her if I was her dog.
I had looked at her, cocking my ears in interest.
She said yes.
They had taken us to the police station. She had fallen asleep holding me like and over-sized teddy bear. I growled at anyone who approached, making myself feel useful.
And now it was a new day.
A day followed by more police, and the woman - Kara she told them - taking me home.
She had cried. Over and over, only leaving me while she was in the shower. Even though I was a dog, I wasn't a *dog*, I had looked away when she changed and showered. I was proud of myself; I wasn’t going to lie.
When we finally fell asleep to the sound of another episode from Netflix playing, I was actually happy for the first time since my curse had been placed upon me.
Then I awoke. In the same molded cardboard box that I had last slept in two days ago. Fur matted, and I was confused.
Time had started over again.
\*\*\*
For more by me and others check out r/redditserials | 2019-11-09T23:10:20 | 2019-11-09T21:16:10 | 1,095 | 160 |
[WP] Most space fairing species are logical beings; when they learn that nothing can go faster than the speed of light they accept it and deal with that limit. The space community is then shocked when Humans, an illogical species with a strong obsession with science fiction, turn up with FTL travel.
(FTL meaning faster than light) | You know that moment when you finally get the right answer on a math problem, but the teacher tells you you did it the wrong way? That’s how the humans did things.
Every time they made a major advancement, we would have to tell them that they did it wrong. It could be done much more efficiently if they did it the right way.
The humans seemed to take this well. They would heed our advice, and get to the answer the right way.
It was their backwards thinking that caused this. They always started at a solution and worked their way back. This always caused their methods to seem more like a loophole in physics rather than an advancement in it. I suppose we could have seen it coming.
Because while the human’s loopholes were often inefficient, they were still loopholes. Sometimes, they got lucky, and the loopholes would be a little more efficient. That was the best that could come of it.
That’s what we thought when we caught wind of their faster than light attempts. Every time they thought they had an answer, large groups would gather to see the spectacle. Every time, we would see their solution, and laugh at how roundabout it was. Every time, we could quickly see how it would fail. And then it would.
After long enough, the attempts became uninteresting, and people stopped watching. We would just occasionally hear about some new idiotic scheme they were attempting.
Then, one day, at the scheduled meeting of the all sapient species, the humans appeared to be running late. We sent warning calls to the humans about the consequences of missing the meeting. We had no response.
The hours leading up to the meeting went by, and we received no contact from the humans. We decided it was best to begin without them.
In the few minutes before the meeting began, a massive energy was detected just outside of the station. We were afraid that we were under attack, but when we looked to see what caused it, we found the impossible.
A standard human carrier ship was just outside the station.
“This is commander Charleston representing humanity. I apologize if we worried anyone, but we really didn’t want to travel for 8 months to get here.”
Edit: Formatting | There were rules. There were always rules. How much energy a single bite could give you. How quickly you could bring a ship to a halt. How fast anything could go. It had been thousands of years since any species had tried to question these rules. After all, they were rules that couldn't be broken. And my species was no different, we had lived an ideal life. Through our acceptance of the rules there was no more change, but that brought an end to suffering.
Until, a new species arrived. And they arrived quickly, without warning, before the light had reached us they were already disembraking. They ignored our guards, our weapons, as if they weren't even a threat. I was an engineer at the dock. I was instructed to stay with their ship, figure out how it made its way past the barrier of light.
While I exploring their ship, I happened across one of the aliens that had decided to remain onboard. Its presence was unlike any thing i had felt before. It wormed its way into my head, I felt it learning everything about me before I even introduced myself.
"Humans" the being spoke. "We call ourselves human"
"Humans" I answered weakly "What do you want from us?"
"Nothing really, we managed to get bored of our own galaxy, so we headed to new ones"
"That must have taken you many years, I understand your ship can travel faster than light but even..."
The human interrupted me "Our ship doesn't move on its own. We make it move" I started to speak again but the human cut me off once more "You're understanding of the "rules" is cute, we used to be that way too. Until we discovered a new element. It was forged when an unknown planet collided with our sun. It rained down on us, but it did not burn. Oh no no no, it changed us. Our bodies became true vessels to our minds, and our minds were opened. And we understood"
With that final word the human started to float off the ground, a bright light radiating off his flesh. "The rules only apply to those that let them apply. Humanity freed itself from the shackles of reality. The greatest us of, the psyonics, are capable of bending reality to fit our whims!" And as he landed back on the ground he slid down to the floor and sat there.
"You seem, distraught" I ventured nervously
The human replied "Throughout our history, humanity has proven that to be human is to struggle" he opened his hand and a red shape the size of his palm appeared, he bite in and juice splattered. He chewed and a heavy expression wore across his face. He stopped chewing and looked up at me "We lost the struggle... I'm not sure we're human any longer" | 2019-12-21T11:39:06 | 2019-12-21T11:38:24 | 187 | 80 |
[WP] Most space fairing species are logical beings; when they learn that nothing can go faster than the speed of light they accept it and deal with that limit. The space community is then shocked when Humans, an illogical species with a strong obsession with science fiction, turn up with FTL travel.
(FTL meaning faster than light) | “...and that’s why they call me ‘The destroyer of Blargin!’l
The group of drinking buddies all toasted to the story, those who can smiling and laughing at Glythard’s story. After the laughter died down, BiZ-Nit clicked their mandibles together, their autotranslator working seamlessly.
“So Greg, I’ve been meaning to ask; how does FTL even work? I know you’re no engineer, but I’ve heard that your species learns the basics in school.”
Greg smiled at his ant-like friend, before chuckling out his answer. “Truth be told, we don’t *actually* go faster than light! Instead, we just hop into another dimension that has different physics and come back out at our destination!”
Glythard laughed, his adapted gills moving quickly to keep up with the airflow. “‘Just hop into another dimension’, that sure is simple!”
Greg pointed at Kaynoth. “His species does it all the time!”
Kaynoth rolled her compound eyes. “We do that to escape predators! We can’t go any further than 2 drangoths away from where we drop in, and even then it takes a huge amount of effort and is hell of a lot slower! Here, let me show you!”
Kaynoth’s feathered wings wrap around him, before he drops through the floor. BiZ-Nak fluttered his wings, attempting to recreate the motions despite the obvious difference in wing type. “So what do you do for your galaxy wide ‘internet’? Sounds like going faster than light is an instantaneous thing, do you have these portals constantly open or something?”
Greg chuckled again. “No, that’s honestly even simpler. Just a network of computers connected through quantum entanglement on a planet, that’s why the further into space you go the worse the connection, unless you’re on a capital ship.”
BiZ-Nak quickly replied “Ah. That is actually much simpler. Was honestly expecting some more... grand.”
Gkythard took a second before laughing. “But isn’t that your job, quantum entangling electronics so that some colony on the other side of the universe can read about celebrities and watch porn?”
BiZ-Nak tilted their head down. “Yeah, but it gets boring to do the same work over and over, yahknow? I was hoping that I’d hear about a more interesting way it’s done.”
20 minutes later, Kaynoth comes back out of the floor 10 feet away, hyperventilating. “See? ...wait is that the check, WERE YOU GUYS GONNA LEAVE ME WITH THE BILL AGAIN?”
__________________________________________________
r/Jedinate6Writes | "Clocking in at maximum non-human speeds, I repeat, clocking in at maximum non-human speeds." The com receeded into the inner workings of the ship. "ETA, fifteen hours." Wave chirped. I don't know which eccentric pedophilic trillionaire made his AI assume the form of an eight year old in a loincloth, but it gets the job done. "Is that all you need, master?" The AI purred. "I told you to stop that, damnit! Whoever owned this ship better have had it repossessed cos he went to jail," I muttered, turning back to the main systems. Not much had changed. I could get in a wink of sleep, but I wanted to refresh myself on what exactly I was going up against.
"So Homo Sapiens, correct?" I asked Wave. "Yes, master! They are a fledging species which originated and operates the center of its empire in the Milky Way." "The Milky Way? I come fro-" "The Andromeda, yes I know. You never fail to remind me," Wave whispered. I let it slide. Andromeda's the best. "Anyway, since they're pretty close, is there any chance that we're related anatomy-wise?" The Sourcers did get lazy around our end of the Universe and mostly tweaked already conceived DNA.
"Similar brain structure. Both bipedal, suited to similar climates, and advanced to interplanetary travel and colonization at similar rates They have much shorter development stages, though." Wave dissipated in a flash of blue, and reappeared near my systems, probably to conduct an info verification check. "Once they left their solar system though, is when they broke off from the path your kind walked." The normally childlike and jubiliant (and creepily flirtatious) AI was uncharacteristically serious. I detected an undercurrent of worry in Wave's voice, and I instantly knew. "That's when they..." I couldn't say it out loud. That would be accepting it, that some backwater species that's only conquered sixty planets spat in the face of physics and flew, quite literally faster than the speed of light. Ahead of every other species. Ahead of mine.
"Tell me, Wave. Is that why we're re-securing Dathomir-24? Because they're scoping it out? Because they learned how to fold space and found some magic macguffin alloy that could keep their ships intact? Because they could warp straight to the center of our empire and deliver their worst payload?" "We don't know if they have that kind of capacity ye-" "Oh, cut the bullshit!" I stifled Wave's feeble attempts to brighten the situation. "What if they're doing it right now? What if the-"
**BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!**
"Calling all units, this is a league ten emergency! Get there now!" I dashed out of my chair to the interstellar map, searching for Krystal-64. *They couldn't have, they...* "Master, I..." "Where's the planet?" Tears welled up in my eyes. "Master, reports are coming in. The humans, they did exactly what you thought they would. They put these huge structures on the poles and opposite sides of the equator. They...sent the planet into..." My eyes widened. "At the speed of their ships." | 2019-12-21T13:23:48 | 2019-12-21T13:13:53 | 51 | 21 |
[WP] Everyone gains a superpower when they turn 18. On your 18th birthday, you acquire what you think is the most useless power. When consoling a friend who is unhappy with their power, “Don’t worry, you’re only human. A bitter taste forms in your mouth. A lie. | "...that's your power?", asked the young vigilante aspirant.
"Underwhelming isn't it? And yet, I've made the most of it while I could", escaped whispers from the old woman's lips.
"It's a peculiar power. I thought it was pretty useless at first, admittedly.", she continued.
The young hero, perplexed, continued: "If your power was so unhelpful, how did you manage to become so successful as a crimefighter? No, how did you even beat the hero considered the strongest, Polyforma?"
"Much of my success came from some good ol' inventiveness of mine. Made me a good detective. Allowed me time to prepare and diagnose situations on the spot," he chuckled, "honestly, it sounds like I was more of an engineer than a detective."
The old woman looked up. Though her eyes were now clouded with cataracts, the young one could not help but feel that his soul was being stared right into.
"Young one, you seek greatness. But you are going about it too distractedly. You may think your power is useless, being able to turn your body to breaddough, but I assure you that with some wit, you'll be able to do some great things with your power. For example, ever eat bread so hard your teeth chip?"
The young aspirant's eyes widened with epiphany, "...bread so hard could probably break things!"
"...or mend them. I think you're starting to realise what else you might be able to do with your power. Keep searching and experimenting. Build up your repertoire with knowledge, if you do not have raw strength. Knowledge, when applied correctly, can amplify your power. That's why knowledge, to me, *is* power."
The young vigilante, once again determined to do his best, hurried off after thanking the old lady for her advice.
The woman swallowed some bitterness on her mouth. She knew, without a doubt, that the kid, as far as he could make it, would never realise his dream of joining the League of Greats.
The old lady was fond of aspiring children, much like the boy. With nostalgia, she thought about her younger self.
She reminisced the times with her ex-husband, then her friend, the one who turned part slime on his 18th birthday. How, together, they discovered the true natures and potentials of their powers together. How they were both disappointed with themselves at first for being "unlucky".
How much of a gamechanger it was when she realised that her power was not only completely the ability to discern truth from lie with pinpoint precision.
The old woman faced up to a clouded sky she could not see, and thought with gratitude: truly, I have been blessed with a lovely power. It wasn't a good power, nor was it a bad one. I just made the most of it, my Laplace Sense. The power to know all flows of all entities, and taste their fates. | This is an old story I wrote with a shockingly similar premise so while it doesn't quite fit, I thought it might work!!
“I had a great time!” I remember she had said, all twinkling kaleidoscope eyes and toothy smiles.
*Sour, like old milk and mothballs, or maybe the way my grandma's carpet smells.*
"Me too!” I replied, almost believing her and myself.
*Mild, like the slightly tangy, too-sweet aftertaste of a sip of Sprite.*
“Well, I hope we see each other soon,” she said, waving goodbye enthusiastically.
*Vulgarity. Like bile and acid and fake smiles. Like rotted peaches left in the sun for too long, sticky and syrupy, full of flies and maggots. Sweet. Too, too sweet.*
You always asked me what they tasted like, Eden. Your cocked head, sweeping blonde eyelashes, pink pursed lips with that cute little crease on your forehead that always came up when you were thinking, I remember all of it.
I remember how I could taste the lie from her mouth, her eyes, her body language. It filled my mouth and the taste permeated through my body, the sugary lies seeping through every pore of my skin. Deceit tastes a little like cough syrup—the bitter, yet overpoweringly sweet, cloying taste that lingers even after three cups of orange juice and a handful of breath mints leaves an unsettling sensation that crawls beneath my skin long after the taste itself is gone. That’s why I don’t go out to eat anymore; I’ve long since learned that the taste of “Hi, we’re so happy to have you here today! Can I get you some water to start?” ruins my appetite. But you know that, don't you?
Pleasantries have always been this way, though those fake “I missed you so much!” and “Call me!”’s were usually the worst. Going through my day, I could expect the chalky, slightly bitter taste of a too-enthusiastic “Hello!” or a saccharine “Thanks!” dozens of times a day, yet I was never truly unbothered by it, by how often people lied and by how little people genuinely cared. I thought you were different, Eden.
The first time we met, the entire world had felt like a picture-perfect backdrop. The grass gleamed with iridescent drops of morning dew, the sky was a soft azure dotted with puffs of brilliant white clouds, and the trees were such a deep, rich shade of green they almost seemed black. You’d greeted me with a chirpy “Hi! It’s really nice to meet you!”, with a gushing smile and innocent blue eyes that were almost too bright. I braced myself for the bitterness to flood my mouth but… nothing. Could someone be so genuinely excited to meet a stranger, let alone me? I was a passing face. A side character. A part of the landscape. Restless, muddy brown hair that stuck out in at least fifty different angles, blue eyes so dull they could be mistaken for grey, and bland, flat features. I wasn’t handsome or ugly, skinny or fat, tall or short. Even I knew how blatantly I reeked of mediocrity. You didn’t think so.
I waited for the inevitable pitfalls that were “that’s interesting”, or “I’d love to hear more!”, yet when they came, there was no taste at all, and at the end of our date when you told me you’d call me, all I tasted was something that felt a little like hope. | 2020-04-04T15:14:18 | 2020-04-04T15:05:49 | 55 | 27 |
[WP] Every morning when you first look in a mirror, you see a small piece of advise for that day, such as “take the subway to work” or “don’t try the free pizza”. Today, the mirror simply says, “RUN” | I don't wait. I grab my purse and the first pair of shoes that I find. I bang into the corner of the bed. It will leave a mark. I grab a sweater as I open the door and lock it. I run down the stairs and out of the apartment building I have lived in for the past five years. I hadn't even looked into the mirror really. I hadn't brushed my teeth. I could feel the stares at me as I ran in flip flops down the street attempting to put on my sweater on the brisk Spring day. The concrete made a flopping sound with my cheap flip flops and I hoped that my shoes wouldn't break on me.
Almost as if they had heard me. I tripped and fell as the part that goes between the toes became loose. I lost traction and went down in a crowd of people. I hit my knee and I knew I would have a scrape. I was almost scared to look down, had I left in pajamas? Yes, there in the middle of my sky blue and yellow pajama pants was a considerable hole. Dirt had begun to intermingle with the fresh blood to make an interesting flower pattern. I had ruined my favorite pajamas. I was sitting on the curb of a busy city with bed head and unbrushed teeth. I looked around from my seat on the ground. Bystanders walked around me as if I was detritus. Maybe I was. I looked for signs of more trouble. I remembered the message in the mirror and I got up and limped trying to run ahead of those around me.
I had my purse. Up ahead there was a library I could use and around the corner there was a discount store. I would get another pair of cheap shoes to run in. This was the plan. I had attempted to go into the library first but they had a problem with not having shoes so I ended up going to the store. As I walked in I passed the mirror that took up the first floor wall to make the store look bigger and to deter from thieves. I tried to ignore my reflection but I saw a familiar font taking up a big portion of the mirror.
"Get the tie up shoes."
The tie up shoes? What? As I turned I saw a sneaker type shoe with laces. I could almost feel the mirror telling me these. I didn't really want to know what the mirror was going to tell me. This was the first time I had seen words outside of my apartment. Not being able to resist, I turned to the mirror. I looked so bad I started to cry. I made my way to the line and with tears pouring down my face I bought the cheap shoes and put them on outside just as it started to rain. I took a last glance into the store and I saw the familiar font in big letters say:
"KEEP RUNNING!"
I ran. I had no idea where I was going. I ran slowly not really knowing what to do. I heard the screams before I saw the smoke. There was heat on my neck. I ran in earnest. There were people passing me now. I was scared to look back as I the screams were louder. My bare feet in the cheap sneakers started to sweat and rub against something. I could feel the stiffness in my knee from where I fell. I felt my mouth dry and parched. I heard someone yell, "They are coming!" I attempted to turn around to see who was coming and came face to face with a person in the reflection of the mirrored building I was running in front of. The man made a gesture as if to say come in to the building. I walked in saw that the post of the doorman had been abandoned. I looked around the art deco styled interior to see in the faux smokey glass mirror up the stairs, the man. Again he made the gesture as if to say, "Come." I followed him up the stairs to what seemed like the top floor.
I saw a door there. He leaned against it and with his motions told me to open it. I did. "Finally!!! Just in time to avoid the zombie apocalypse. And you smelling like blood. I didn't think you would get here in time." He locked the door behind me. The room was dark. There was ambient light from all of the computers and there were small windows on the top of the wall. "My name is Washington. I am the tenth of the time travelers that have been placed in history to help the survival of the human race. In this world you are Sally but you will grow to be Salinas, Queen of the Survivors. Think of me as your facilitator. Now, how about you go to the bathroom and freshen up, there is a lot to do. And you can't very well do it in rubber ducky pajamas." Washington showed me the door to a bathroom. As I went in, I noticed there were no mirrors, even the chrome was matted and black. I allowed myself to slide down the wall and cry, thankful for no reflections. | *Diary recovered from the body of 24-year-old Sabrina West.*
January 1st: Happy New Year! I'll be honest, I woke up well past noon with a massive hangover and no idea what I did last night. My friends said I went with some group of people all holding candles, so maybe it was some church service thing. I suppose it's not the worst thing I've done while drunk. Anyway, as part of my New Year's Resolution, I'm going to start this journal and keep track of my life for once. New year, new me!
January 2nd: Something strange happened today. I looked in the mirror, and for a second I thought I saw the words "call Brianna" written on the surface. I blinked and it was gone. I decided to call Brianna later that day, and she told me she'd broken up with her boyfriend after he'd cheated on her at a New Year's party and she appreciated the support. I'm glad I could be there for my friend, but that was kind of... creepy.
January 5th: It's kept happening. First time I look into the mirror, I see some words. Some advice. Yesterday was "throw out the strawberries," which I checked and found they'd all gone moldy. Today's was "stop by the grocery store before you go home." (I did. Got some more strawberries, and some stuff I realized I'd been missing for dinner tonight.) It's helpful, if a little odd. Still, if some supernatural creature wants to help me get a better life, I suppose it could be worse...
*Several more entries of normal life follow. Each one has a mirror message accompanying it. None are particularly notable until March 13th.*
March 13th: So I was flipping through this journal, and I realized that I never did find out what I did on New Year's. I called up another friend who was at the party, and he said he knew one of the guys with the candles that I apparently joined for church service. I asked for that guy's number. I'll call him tomorrow. The mirror message was helpful as always. ("Buy more pads." Turns out, one of my boxes was empty.)
March 14th: The mirror message said "Don't call that number." I'm assuming it means the guy I just got the number of. I've obeyed everything that mirror has said up until now, but I was just too curious. I called him. He picked up, asked for my name, and when I told him he immediately hung up on me. That was... more than a little weird.
March 15th: The mirror didn't have any messages for me today. Nothing out-of-the-ordinary happened today, but I hope I didn't lose whatever help I had.
*No mention of any more messages in the mirror, until...*
March 24th: Holy shit. Ok, so today the mirror simply said "RUN!" At first, I thought it meant to go for a jog - I'd been meaning to do more exercise lately. Then I noticed the all-caps, the exclamation mark. I'll be honest, I stared at it for at least ten seconds, just terrified. Then I grabbed my makeup mirror, my journal, and packed a quick bag with a phone charger and a few other necessities. I was standing by the back door of my place, wondering for a second if I should go out through the back or the front door. Then I heard the front door open behind me. I burst through the back door and just sprinted with everything I had. I didn't stop until I was at least a block away. I looked back, and saw what looked like a long, pitch-black arm reach over and close the door. The window blinds rustled a bit. I didn't stick around to see what was behind them. I forgot to grab my car keys, so I've been running on foot all day. I made it to the next town over and found a motel. I'm exhausted, and I just hope I could shake them off. I texted some friends, and they'll be willing to give me a ride if I need to keep running. I don't think they believe anything I'm saying, but at least they realize I'm scared.
March 25th: It happened again. I woke up, looked into the hotel mirror, and saw the same message: "RUN!" I considered jumping off of the balcony before deciding to just book it down the stairs. I ran down and called Brianna to pick me up. I'm staying at her place tonight, she lives a good distance away. I didn't see anything this time, though as I was running down the hotel stairs I could have sworn I heard a scratching sound from above me...
March 28th: I'm so tired... every day has been the same. A message of "RUN!" I run out the door. And something I can't quite see follows me. It got Brianna. I don't know what it did to her, but I haven't heard from her since I ran out the door of her place. All I know is I heard a scratching noise, then a door opened, and I was already gone. She hasn't answered my calls, and I fear the worst. She lives alone, and I don't know any of her neighbors to call. I don't think I can keep this up another day...
*On March 30th, the body of Sabrina West was discovered in a bush off of the main highway near the home of Brianna Carlson. Sabrina's left leg and head were missing, with examinations suggesting they had been torn off. The journal was found in the backpack, still left on the remaining portion of the body. Examinations suggest that Sabrina collapsed from exhaustion before being mauled by an animal. That same day, the body of Brianna Carlson was found in her home, similarly missing its head. The case file for the deaths of these two girls remains open and unresolved.* | 2020-06-07T20:54:59 | 2020-06-07T20:24:52 | 547 | 308 |
[WP] Humanity has been eradicated. As the alien race that killed us begins to settle they're shocked to discover that old Earth myths of spirits and demons are far from fiction. The Devil, pissed off at the aliens, has decided to open the gates of Hell and let humanity get its revenge. | Three days of fighting. All of humanity eradicated after three days of one sided fighting. Metropolitan areas and military bases were the first to go. We fled out of urban areas but their probes were thorough. One second I was walking to find shelter the next moment I wasn't.
I was in a meadow that was greener than any place I'd seen before. It stretched beyond my sight and was full of people. Some looked like people who I could've known, people who would've been fleeing. Others looked like they've been here much longer. Soldiers who look like historical re-enactors. WWII Soldiers from multiple nations. Soldiers that look like they were out of the 1800's. Soldiers that looked like belonged in Medieval or Renaissance festivals.
Someone grabbed me, we started moving. Then there was a brilliant white light. We were in a city. Wasn't sure which, not one I'd been to before. But aliens were everywhere. I hadn't seen one before, not sure anyone had, just their probes. No idea how many types were there, but it looked like a dozen different species, some were the size of a house pet, others larger than bus. They all seemed to freeze and look in our direction.
I looked at the people surrounding me, taking them in for the time since the field. A lot of people, but scattered among us Military personnel. It looked like Call of Duty, or Battlefield, just becauseof the randomness of militaries they appeared to belong to. Looking beyond my immediate group, I saw people with swords and shields, bows and arrows.
Then I saw fire, coming from the ground, what looked like people and demons running out of the fire and towards the aliens. Nearby a tree uprooted and started walking towards the aliens, small humans with butterfly wings fluttered with the tree. A brilliant white light emerged from the sky and winged humans with swords were attacked the fleeing aliens from above.
Every time a fire happened, what looked to me to be a fire spirit would form from it. Lightning strikes coming down and erupting any time a small group of aliens would attempt to rally and mount a defense.
We wiped the aliens from the Earth. Then there was a flash and I was back in the meadow. The Soldiers went back to training with their peers. I saw a bunch of other lost people like myself. They were standing around a well.
Looking into the well, I could see the Earth. And thought sadly how humanity was wiped from it. But then I saw a spark of life. People were put back, not a lot, but a few from each field, part of the sky, or fiery pit they rose from to reclaim the Earth. With that I left the well to train with the nearest group, if the world was ever attacked again, I'd be ready to defend it. | Far away, a ceremony was being conducted. As the conductor appeared before the crowd, he lifted his baton, signaling the rows of singers behind to begin their melody. All those there believe soundly that the expedition and conquering of Earth was going smoothly. The media had announced that the last human had since perished among the fighting.
The two sides of the coin were anything but close to peace.
Ashes wafted into the air from where the Mythicals of Earth stood. More of them would soon arrive, eager to show their true colors. The Devil had given the ultimate command only a short while ago.
*“Humanity has fallen. It is our turn to show our faces.”*
On the opposite end of the ashes, the invaders hung back, attempting to reconnect with the homeland. Attempt after attempt proved futile, their homeland was embroiled in a ceremony of sorts to celebrate the conquering of another celestial body.
The invaders were walking in blind now. They had no clue of their enemies’ descriptions, aside from a few short tales they gathered. There were no assigned missions, the only goal was to defend and ward off the enemy. The enemies were taken back by the unprecedented force of the Mythicals. Unfortunately, this platoon knew their demise was fast-approaching.
Back on the land of the invaders, the melody still carried on. The citizens were oblivious to the mess occurring far away from them.
The invaders tried once more to contact their superiors. They at least hoped that their message would be heard, even if they were eradicated here, surely reinforcements would be sent to combat this loss. The enemies of Earth were at a dead end now. With no real option, they set their sights on one task: destruction. If they couldn’t have Earth to themselves, then the opponents would have none of it either. The group of invaders congregated one final time. They were bound to destroy the structure in front of them.
On the opposite side of the structure, surprise manifested itself among the guardians of Earth. They gazed forward and saw what only could be a nightmare for humanity. One of humanity’s greatest structures was beginning to crumble. Little planning was required. The Devil’s forces launched into an assault against their enemies.
\--
On two thrones, the two leaders sat. From one side of the universe to the other, they continued to observe the carnage from their pretty little perches. This set of invaders had been squashed, but the Earth’s forces suffered tremendously too. Back on Earth, rubble and debris clogged the atmosphere now. Smoldering ashes of what once was the final of the original Seven Great Wonders of the World were scattered between the two sides.
Yet, there was a lack of remorse that was shared between the enemies.
Of course, the invaders could not have known of the beautiful intricacies that Earth once carried, but neither could the Mythicals know it either. They both failed at a simple saying that humanity carried: Before you judge a man, walk a mile in his shoes. Neither had experienced human life. One side had never been to Earth before, while another had remained just simply as a clustering of spirits trapped away in a cloak of invisibility. They could've never appreciated the value we hold for certain structures.
While neither could know it at the time, when asked the question that could change the tides of this event, the two leaders both uttered the same line, “Yes, I would like to continue the battle. We will not stop until it’s won.”
The spirit to be competitive is universal it seems.
r/CasualScribblings | 2020-09-18T08:10:13 | 2020-09-18T08:08:08 | 182 | 56 |
[WP] Humanity has been eradicated. As the alien race that killed us begins to settle they're shocked to discover that old Earth myths of spirits and demons are far from fiction. The Devil, pissed off at the aliens, has decided to open the gates of Hell and let humanity get its revenge. | What the aliens never understood was that hell was the repository of all human hatred, rage, contempt, and evil intent. And there were billions of humans down there, all waiting to unleash their vengeance. The pit of darkness that connected the underworld to the Earth opened up to reveal legions of legions, billions upon billions of demonic spirits pouring out like an ocean of rage through a compromised dam. Then the dam burst. At once there were billions more. No armor or weapons of any kind; just pure rage, hate, and malice.
At once, all the aliens were possessed by malevolent spirits. The very technology that so easily caused human extinction was turned against them. Their command watched in horror as every act of inhumanity ever committed by humans in their entire existence was visited upon their alien troops. Every torture humans ever devised, every atrocity, every act of evil humans had ever committed upon one another was now unleashed against the aliens. The result was terrifying.
Then the human spirits reached their ships. All their reserves turned upon themselves and each other. Some ships were sabotaged; their small nova flares scattered the fleet as their engines and power plants exploded. Others fired upon or rammed into each other, yet others were emptied of life, their blood soaked halls echoed the twisted violence and a fell malice that overthrows the alien mind permeated them from stem to stern. Their leaders forced to watch their own bodies writhing on the decks as a flood of memories of human terrors left them insensate and suffering seizures, their very own muscles breaking their beaks and bones. Every death more gruesome than the last. Their minds forced to watch, to feel, to experience the full depth and breadth of horror that was the human capacity for evil. They were driven insane, beyond insane, and driven even further into a kind of mental suicide to escape the tortures. Their very existence emptied and the vessel reprogrammed with all the human horrors indelibly burned into their every synapse.
Two ships managed to escape the carnage intact. On their way out, they left buoys hanging in space around the system. All transmitting a warning in every language and every form of communication the aliens knew. The warning was simple: This system is quarantined - do not attempt to enter. Do not approach. Any vessel seen leaving this system will be destroyed upon discovery, no exceptions.
The devil could not bring the human race back to life. But he would rule over the graveyard and await the opportunity to unleash his jihad upon the galaxy. He had time. Those buoys were not made to last forever. He and his servants had an eternity on their side.
He would only have to wait just short of a hundred and fifty thousand years. But that's a story for another time. | The first sign of trouble was when the ship's light cut off, bathing it in darkness. the Jar'ko engineers went to work right away. But then an eerie red-light began to emanate from strange runes in the metal and the whispers began. They were not a language; not the sense of a race's babbling; this was a language that should not have ever been, and yet was.
Then the screaming began. the Warrior-breed came from their armories, facing the gibbering horrors that poured from the holes. In-Jark'ko beauty's that became hideous and human tearing them apart, only to vanish with a single shot, great lurching behemoth's of rage and muscle tearing through sections of the ship, and the insane victims of the Daemonic voices turning nest-mates into madkos...
It was then when Commander Keal'as heard the hard thunk of a boarding pod on the side of the ship when he realized this was no mere incursion; this was a raid. He made his way to the captian's room, hoping that the Self destruct systems where still operational as the Imps, the snarling, spiteful little things scampered around the room, tearing into this brothers and sisters around him.
On his four legs, the Jar'ko commander ran, opening the door to see it mostly intact. his three nostrils sighed in relief as he went over and tapped the button.... nothing happened.
"We have come for you." The voices said, and they were leigon.
The room shifted into a charnel house; the green blood of his kind slathered the metal decking, viscera can still beating organs grew from the cracks. The Naval-breed was cut opened, scarificed by the human witch before him now.
Humans were once bi-pedal mammals. But thier connection to the Spirit world made them too dangerous to be left alive...
"And now you will find out why."
She was ugly; three eyes glowing yellow in the dim red light, a face, one face the ugly, mammalian ape, the other the sign of her race's descent into Ash-Gala; a snarling face that matched the other only in it's ugliness; it was too soft, but looked like the harden exo-skeleton crudely bashed into reptilian features. Her right arm was a mass of scales, tentacles and flesh and it shot out to hold him down to the floor.
He roared and tore at them with the Armor's claws, but it was too late, he felt it melt, the hat searing into his plates, but the pain only began as she began to remove his scales, plate by plate... it was maddening.
"Die, miserable, disgusting monster."
\----
The ship fully corrputed, the crew scarified and replaced by demonic masters, Janis smiled to herself. the souls of her people came in, the human form returning takes to the mass sacrifice of the crew. Hell left nothing unchanged, nor the Angels nor the souls...
"The Long war is not over... but we make way to their home world." Her assistant, the Cyber-daemon Solomon said with a large, fagged grin. "Human... you did well."
"I had a good teacher, what can i say?" She chuckled. "But the crew should get used to this... tell command that to ship us thier souls when ready... Jar'ko fear has such an.. interesting flavor."
"It will be done."
"For The Lowerarchy and Lost Terra..." She replied. | 2020-09-18T08:58:41 | 2020-09-18T08:43:13 | 48 | 22 |
[WP] Humanity has been eradicated. As the alien race that killed us begins to settle they're shocked to discover that old Earth myths of spirits and demons are far from fiction. The Devil, pissed off at the aliens, has decided to open the gates of Hell and let humanity get its revenge. | It was cruel. And it was slow. And worse of all, it was thorough.
&#x200B;
Their shields repelled all of our weapons. Theirs ships barred all but their own from the sky. Earth surrounded by thousands of ships all of their weapons prepared, primed, charged.... but death did not come from above, it came door to door.
&#x200B;
The swarms are what we called them. Clouds of nano-machines engulfing the planet. They swirled and banked as starlings in spring. An almost alien beauty to them. They swept the planet,ripping all sentient species apart, piece by piece. Dolphins, chimps, gorillas, dogs, cephalopods....and humans. I think the dogs screamed the worst, or perhaps the sick AI enjoyed the show. The clouds seemed to only dissolve one creature at a time, even when assaulting crowds in food lines or groups in shelters. Almost as if they knew there was no escape. Perhaps it was this cold machine cruelty which embittered all of our souls. After three months, there was no resistance. Hell, I doubt anyone had the will to fight after the first week. But it went on and on, the unblinking green lights in the sky and the clouds of death rolling across a desert world. A strange thing happens when you give up hope, a very human thing.
We bargain....
The woman dying of thirst in the desert, "I'd give up anything for a drop of water"
The man freezing to death in the mountains, "The world for a blanket..."
The man who's child has been killed, ripped apart to atoms in front of him. The man who bought him his first bicycle when he was five. Who never missed the kids baseball games. Who loved him more than life...
I̷͔̒̒͑͘'̵͎͓̫̄̂̊̾͆ͅd̶͈̖͕̗̺͂̍̈́͂̚ ̴̘͎͌͑͗̎͘
g̵̛̹̺͆i̵͖̓͒v̵̧̫͙̋̇̔͋͐ͅe̷̥̘͍̲̽͆̎́͝ͅ.̴̨̡͓̰̃̆͘.̶̨̜͆̈́͊͂͝.̸͖̔̂͘
e̷̥̰͙̳͛̉̀v̴͚̒̒͛͐ͅe̶̢̬͈̼̠̒r̷͇̜̙̯̔y̴̫̅t̷͕͎̆͝h̸̪̼͕̍̑̌̀i̵͓̟͘n̴̨̠͙̠̲̅͛̿g̵̨̞̮̋̀̐̐̅
f̴̣̻͛͛͜o̸̫͠ṙ̴̡̺͓̮̈́̔̏͜͝ ̸̫̦̙́̀͝
V̷̡̟̲̳̼͘Ȩ̴͇͖͆̌́̄̋N̵̲̲̞͊͆G̶̢͓̖̮̈́Ë̷̠̙̝ͅN̴̡̞̹͍̫̍̋̃̒̾C̷̙͚̦̈́̀̚ͅE̵͉̰̣̓̎͑̅́ | “God has abandoned you.” The sneering face of man’s greatest nightmare loomed above them. These shades of men, these souls doomed to a life of death and an eternity of fire. “He loves all living things and thus cares not for your extinction. But I, in my magnanimity, will not deign to allow you to fall in such a forgetful manner. You, who have entertained me for millennia, will give me one last piece of theater.”
The shades cried out in anguish and torment. Their children, their loves, their families destroyed in an instant. One heartbeat was all it took for them to wipe humanity out. The power of a star polluted and twisted, Sol that had given humanity life, had been corrupted to destroy them. The irony was not lost on the Devil who had chuckled in the moment. The great visage of evil itself looked down upon the billions that hovered beyond life, held firmly in his grasp. “I will give you a choice. Stay here forever and wail at your misfortune, or take my hand and be reborn anew. Unflinching, undaunted, vengeance made manifest.”
He had been a warrior in life. A leader of brave men and women who had fought for decades to preserve the delicate balance that held Earth together. Now in death he had become an avatar of hate and violence. He had doubled in stature, his skin near bursting from the heat of hatred. They no longer had need for crude weapons, for the instruments of destruction were themselves.
“Look at how they cower,” he hissed. Those around him let loose deep guttural laughter. The aliens before them were beautiful in a way. Tall and slender beings with bright eyes and long flowing hair. Human almost. Almost. The monster that was once a man waved his hand and they evaporated before him. “Trifles.” He muttered.
The aliens that had so easily drove man to extinction now fled in all directions. Earth burned in baleful fire and no life would emerge there for eons. The shades that were once humanity did not care. All they craved was vengeance. There was no desire for justice, for peace, they were slaves now.
He stood aboard one of the alien’s great ships. A marvel of technology and engineering. It had plowed the stars for centuries, conquering all in its wake for the advancement of their race. A race they never bothered to learn the name of. He floated towards the bridge, erasing the few stragglers still trying to hide from the carnage, and opened the blast doors with a thought.
Inside an alien stood. It was taller than the rest, dressed ornately in the livery of an officer. He was their leader no doubt. “Wait.” The demon said to its fellows. “Let us . . . Converse.”
The specter nearest to him cocked its head, its form was female, but sex and gender was meaningless now. It stared at him through eyes as black as night and snorted, “have you lost your appetite?”
“No,” he roared back. “I wish to sate another urge.”
The other demon bowed its head and floated around the bridge, content to savor the terror of the crew for a moment.
“What are you monsters?” The officer had found its voice. It was brave, and the demon was surprised to find he understood their tongue easily.
“A reminder of your sins.” The demon hissed as he loomed above the officer. He landed on the deck and they were only a few feet apart. “Why?”
“Why?” The officer repeated, “why what?”
“Why did you end us so? Why did you curse us, force us to this?” The demon grabbed the officers wrist and it screamed in pain as its flesh seared.
“I don’t understand.” The officer grunted through gritted teeth. “We were dying, we had no choice. The humans would not treat with us, they threatened us, they attacked us.”
“Lies!” The demon screeched and tightened its grip on the officer.
“I swear!” The officer had sunken to its knees. “We made it painless, we made it over in an instant. We did not want suffering.” It screamed again as the demon let go its arm now a blackened wreck. “Please. Please. We had no choice. We were dying.”
The demon crouched to look the officer in the eyes. “No. You are dead.”
The ship tore apart and exploded in the void of space. There was no sound, only the bright light of atomic explosions. From hundreds of miles away the demon that was once man looked on, unmoved. In another life he would have wondered if it had been worth it. To give up his eternal soul for petty vengeance. But now he felt nothing, nothing but hate. As he and the rest of his kind stared into the darkness of the galaxy, their only thought was who would be next. | 2020-09-18T09:26:17 | 2020-09-18T08:56:23 | 42 | 29 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.