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[WP] It turns out humanity was the first, and only spacefaring species to master the atom. After a horrific galactic war, humanity had to bring out its nuclear weapons, to the shock and horror of the rest of the galaxy. | Yikes - this ended up _way_ too long. I'll have to break it up.
Edit: Wow - my first ever reddit award! Thank you!
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28480 (TSC):: Interview with survivor, Oridan system.
It's not that we couldn't, you understand. Every vaguely intelligent species in the galaxy knew that it could be done. The issue is one of simple survival. It takes a certain kind of mind to look at the numbers involved, the energies, and say "Sure, that's worth the risk." That's the issue. Most species simply don't think that way, and the ones that do don't last long enough to make it into open space before their own pure recklessness comes back and bites them - usually fatally.
We always knew that the humans were... unstable. Their history isn't particularly more bloody than most species, but the fact that they survived their atomic age convinced most that they had - like all other civilized species - put that sort of silliness behind them. My own people had our unfortunate moments you understand. We toyed with nuclear power a few thousand years ago but like all right-thinking people we learned that one does not - if you'll excuse me using a human expression for a moment - "poke the bear". Hundreds of thousands of my people died, and vast swathes of our planet were rendered uninhabitable by the radiation following our first foray into nuclear technology. We were, well... we considered ourselves... "smart" enough not to go there again. It took another thousand years for us to master gravitic engines powerful enough to get us into space, but it was worth it. After all, they don't explode if you get them wrong.
-#-
:: Excerpt from "Major conflicts of the Galactic West" Published 11021 (TSC)
The war was generally known as "The War of the Four Suns" or more academically as the Last Succession of Neer. The four sons of that last great house, each presided as governor over an important solar system within their mother's empire. The brothers had always been competent enough rulers in their small domains, but were never really considered anything likely to make the history books. The Empress Eleanor Neer VI had ruled about a third of the galaxy for well over 90,000 years, and generally perceived wisdom was that she would continue to do so in perpetuity.
Indeed, given the resources of a million solar systems being pumped into keeping her distributed consciousness alive within the keywork, the general consensus was that she would be the last Empress. The house of Neer would end, her children and her children's children slowly fading into irrelevance as their ancestor grew more and more complex. Technically, her body was still alive, enshrined in the palace at Varsas, and as long as it lived, she would remain Empress, despite the fact that her mind - what the more dissatisfied subjects considered to be her "soul" - no longer resembled anything approaching a member of their species. The Machine Matriarch. The Keywork Queen. The Empress Engine. A disembodied consciousness that really could be everywhere at once. Watching everyone. Knowing everything.
And so the Neer Empire had continued, long after most others had fallen. The light huggers crawled across the galaxy, their cargo barely experiencing the decades of dilated time, but when they arrived the Empress Neer was already there, waiting for them. Her consciousness travelling at the speed of light itself, unencumbered by the tedious necessity to carry physical mass she was able to know all that happened in her domain in a way that a physically embodied ruler never could. | Part 2:
The Stars Shine Again
"K'uklas, we're pulling out off of the Zhavra cruiser, make sure you and your men can handle the onslaught," the man over his radio said. He couldn't believe the man he looked up to would abandon them like that, in a time where they were hopeless against these tiny, ferocious beasts—no, demons. They have spilled much blood and their eyes turned only cold. Dust flew from the worlds they took and their rampage did not stop. How could they fight against such a terrible foe? "Men," turning around to see disheveled Zaarians, starved and deprived of the liberty to live, "this day will be marked as the day we resisted, despite us not eating, despite us covered in dust and blood."
No rejoices. No more smiling. Their reptilian faces were too blank to care. Their minds had been wiped out of all memory of glory. Poor K'uklas asked after a while, "Why the silence?"
"Are we crazy or courageous?", one of the men spoke, and the only sound that can be heard from the crowd.
"Nothing is more courageous than looking at hope."
"What do you mean? They've took everything. Everything."
"They can't take what they don't have. We may have nothing, but this universe shall see that we stopped a terrible disease."
The poor soldier sat, bowed down, and wept. He remembered his beloved, screaming in agony, her pristine eyes losing its soul in front of him. He remembered the charred corpses of his children among the dead. And he saw them again, whispering him to avenge them, and then he stopped weeping.
K'uklas knew this was a lost cause; it didnt matter. Their only chance of winning is to make them win again, to give them a false warmth, before their own armaments judge them again. It was impossible, it was daunting, and knowing his superior, Zaar would now be a footnote in history.
The radio receiver heard shots that echoed from the distances, and the soldiers knew this was their last time living again. And so, from the dark void, they turned their scarred ship into the direction of the shell, creating a wormhole from theirs to the location of the shot, and proceeded, in an array of colors, to pulsate powerful rays against their enemies. There were only a few that rode the cruiser, but it mattered not anymore. The cannons shot and shot to no use at all, but they gave them hope once more. Some aimed at the thrusters at their backs, and with surprise, it tore all apart. And continued this on their way. For Zaaria, for our families, and for the stars.
More and more ships came to descend to oblivion in the path of Zhavra, and as they fired at it, all they can do is be drawn to sadness. Even K'uklas felt sorry for the men he had killed, but he knew that his soldiers were joyed, that his arms were joyed, and so continued to fire at the high horses of the despicable little devils in front of them, scourging them into eternal hellfire.
With no warning, a shadow blocked the view, casting an uneasy darkness against the crew. They knew it was it; the Destroyer Cruiser. The ones that killed their families, their friends, their lovers and children. Here it is, one of them, all weapons aimed against a small, gaunt ship, meek against this old foe. They turned a right and strafed to their left, confusing the barrage where to fire. As the rays launched more to their direction, the vehicle moved dodgingly until it could find a large hole, said to contain the Grail to End All Life. And they did, and stayed. It lowered its weapons and let it open. Slowly, even against the silence of space, it could be heard rattling and crunching, until it revealed a large missile, familiar to the soldiers.
"Men, are you ready to go to heaven?"
"I'm prepared for hell."
And they went straight to the warhead, shooting at it with the strongest of their might, rushing until it combusted in a sphere of magnificence.
The stars have now shone again. | 2019-12-19T04:41:09 | 2019-12-19T04:20:10 | 102 | 15 |
[WP] After you blow your candles our on your cake for 2 on your 35th birthday, your seemingly perfect spouse looks up at you and says "you're finally at a wise age, I can offer you the gift of immortality, the same one I accepted so many years ago. Do you want to live this life with me forever?" | I pondered for a moment, my eyes drifting slowly along the beautifully sculpted features of my darling's face.
Sheila. My high-school-sweetheart-turned-fiance.
She's always been a bit quirky, so I flash her a warm smile and play along.
"Oh darling, hasn't anybody told you that birthday wishes don't come true when spoken aloud?"
She shot up in her chair, involuntarily, as though I'd slapped her with a piping-hot branding iron. A moment later she composes herself, leans in, and lowers her voice.
"Hon, this isn't a joke. I love you, and I want to be with you forever. Look, I can prove it."
Still smiling, I watch as she reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a faded group photo. Ancient, by the looks of it. She slides it over to me.
"Look here."
She points to a tiny face in the third row of the group. A handwritten note beneath the picture reads: 'Witnessing The Titanic's Maiden Voyage -1912'.
My heart freezes in my chest. The smile vanishes from my lips. It's unmistakable. Sheila's gorgeous face is smiling back at me from her place in the crowd. I fail to mask my fear when I lock eyes with this stranger sitting in front of me, the supposed love of my life.
If she's been 35 since 1912...That's 73 years before I was even born!
"Hon? I know this is a lot to take in, but it's true."
She reaches for my hand. I pull away and stare wordlessly at her. My mind is on fire. How long has she been following me? Every moment and interaction from her must have been calculated. Why would she choose me?
"I know you're wondering why I chose you."
Shit, can she read minds too?
"And no, I can't read your mind. I've just been watching you for so long, I know how you think. It's one of the many things I love about you. I want to share my forever with somebody I can depend on for everything."
For a moment, my apprehension dissipates. She really has been the greatest thing to ever happen to me, so why wouldn't I want that forever?
Then it strikes me that I'll outlive my entire family. My friends. My dog! Would I really want to do that for a girl?
"Sheila listen, I like you a lot, but I'm going to need more details before I make a decision like this. How does immortality work?"
"Oh it's simple. I don't age, I don't die, and I don't feel pain. I get to see everything life has to offer for all of eternity, all across the universe, wherever life takes me. And I'm lonely. In all my years I've never been so enraptured by somebody until I met you, and I want you to share this journey with me."
I lean back, really trying to absorb it all. When she puts it like that it doesn't sound so bad. So why aren't I jumping at the opportunity? I drink in all her features again. I think of every special moment I've spent with her. Then another thought strikes me.
"Who granted you immortality?"
"An old flame, but don't worry, that flame went out a lifetime ago."
"He died?"
"No, only an immortal can grant immortality. We just didn't work out."
"And you're not worried that will happen to us?"
She shrugs. "I hope not, but if it does we'll both be immortal anyway so we'll always have our choice of lovers."
I nod my head slowly. I think I'll do it, I just need one last question answered.
"What about my dog? Can he live forever too?"
She laughs.
"He turned 35 in dog years three years ago. It's already been done!" | My eyes closed for a moment as I turned past the foyer. Then everything changed.
Aida smiled at me from across the apartment, her eyes twinkling in the candlelight. She'd worn her red dress, the one that caught eyes and made other men envious when we'd went barhopping last week. On the wall were blue balloons and streamers. Our small dining table had been moved to the middle of the room, and on it was a perfect little cheesecake.
Chicago style, just the way I liked it. The table was set for two, with a new white cloth and fine cultery. Bach played from the phonograph that she'd moved over from the living room. As I stepped towards the table, the pains in my muscles from a hard day of work began to fade. The harsh voice of my boss became a distant memory as I looked into my wife's eyes and returned the grin.
"Happy birthday, Hector." Her voice was soft, but she couldn't contain the excitement behind it. We kissed, holding each other tight until only happiness remained in my mind.
"I love you," I replied back. She sang me the birthday song, then gestured to the cake and asked me to make a wish. I looked into her face and blew out the single candle with a long puff. Aida was in her thirties, but she still looked as beautiful as she was ten years ago.
We cut the cake together, her hand on mine. She fed me my first slice of cake, and I laughed and did the same to her. Our giggles echoed around the room as we reminisced stories and gossiped about old peers. Her teasing gestures and romantic enamor made me feel like this was my first date night.
After a few drinks, we ended up cuddled together on the sofa, our bodies entwined and her lips on mine. Finally, she said something that stopped my heart.
"You're finally at a wise age, Hector." It was strange hearing those words from her, as if she was my mother speaking to my adolescent self. "I can offer you the gift of immortality, the same one I accepted so many years ago. Do you want to live this life with me forever?"
She snuggled up against me and looked up at me with puppy eyes. Green eyes brighter than any I've seen, and a narrow face with those cute freckles she'd never grown out of.
"Immortality?" I said. "I think you've drank too much tonight."
"Oh no, I'm definitely sober." Her face hardened slightly, letting me know she was still lucid. "I meant every word I just said."
"You just want me to..."
"No," she said sharply. "I've lived in this world for three hundred years, and saw the Revolution with my own two eyes. One decade I lived like a princess, another I begged for scraps in Manhattan. We've grown more connected and politically open, but at the same time more power-hungry and narrowminded."
"You're delusional, Aida," I responded. "Are you sure you're alright?"
"I can't force you to take this, but I hope you do." She reached onto the coffee table and took out a small glass vial filled with an orange liquid. Her deft fingers removed the cork stopper, and she held it out to me.
"Build a better future with me, Hector." The puppy eyes were back again. "Stay with me, and help me change this world."
I stood up on the carpet, ignoring our clothes on the ground and the half-eaten cake on the table. I tried to keep my voice gentle, though it was hard to maintain a straight face.
"Go to bed, Aida," I said slowly. "Everything will be all right in the end."
"Nothing will be right if you don't do this. All the guys whom I've married dumped me when I gave them the choice."
"Aida, you're not acting right. Please go rest now; I'll clean up. We'll talk again in the morning."
I watched as she finally stepped towards the adjoining bedroom. As soon as she turned away, I reached towards the counter and slid the chef's knife from its wooden block. My eyes lingered over her body for a moment, admiring the woman I'd loved - and surveiled - since I was sent away on this mission.
Aida opened the bedroom door, and I lunged with blade outstretched. She responded more quickly than I'd expected, her left reaching out to knock the weapon away. Her right hand gripped the opened vial, and she forced the foul contents down my throat while she twisted the knife out of my grip.
Her expression was flat, and the romantic tinge had vanished from her voice.
"You're one of us now, Hector." | 2020-08-22T19:22:54 | 2020-08-22T19:11:00 | 141 | 18 |
[WP] For years, there's been a room in your house where time stops. You can stay in there for as long as you possibly want without aging, and not a single second passes outside of the room. One day, while in the room taking a nap, you're awoken by the sound of furious knocking at the front door.
This was inspired by an r/askreddit post and I thought it might make for some cool stories! | Every evening I walk into timelessness and shut the door, unfettered by my cruel mistress of a calendar, free from the nagging ticking of the clock.
It started as as my yoga room but eventually even the calming music and rhythmic breathing spoke of the passing of time. I was counting my breaths and moving to the almost nonexistent beat of the music. Eventually I settled on savasana pose and simply lay in silence each day for awhile.
Eventually painted the ceiling, floor, and walls an almost black purple, and gave myself to the darkness behind my eyes until I slept. I did this every day after work. The rest I got was so complete, so utterly transcendent that eventually the room replaced my bedroom as my place to sleep.
My productivity and creativity skyrocketed when I wasn't in the room. I was able to finish every project and problem-solve all the placed I'd felt stuck.
It was hard. The room was like a drug. Timelessness connected me to the universe in indescribable ways. I lost myself in there yet felt more like myself in there. Somehow the room began to mess with my sense of time when I wasn't in the room.
But I also loved my friends and family and wanted to experiencing moments with them. And mark time with them. I wanted to feel of earth beneath my feet and smell the woods on my weekend hikes. I wanted to taste wine and cheese and hear music and dance. I wanted to paint and visit museums. When I was outside the room I realized that in some ways the room was also a sensory deprivation chamber. I started feeling like I was in *Groundhog Day* so I forced myself to scale back to meditation after work, deliberately not falling asleep and sleeping in there on the weekends so I could get two Saturdays and two Sundays.
I am lying in the room napping when I hear a banging on the door. The sound seems incredibly loud and bounces off every surface in the room. I'm more than startled. Sound, by nature, is associated the time. There is a before and after to sound. This room hasn't experienced sound since it was merely my yoga room. There is it, before and after.
The banging continues. I move cautiously to the door. I don't speak. I want to add to the noise. I open the door and my apartment is gone. Surrounded by what seems like deepest nothingness there is a bright starburst pattern of light. The best I can describe it is that it seems to be static and moving at the same time.
"You knocked?" What am I supposed to say? I'm already living with a timeless room. I don't view a light knocking on the door as that unusual.
It spoke to me in flashes of image and thought. Words are limiting but basically the idea is that the room is only a portal to eternity. I could emerge from the room now and forever enjoy the sensation of simultaneously being and not being, of experiencing complete presence and awareness while being utterly consumed in deep comforting void. Odd as it may seem I had a thought conversation with this light that went something like this.
"Do I have to decide now?"
"What is now?"
"Yikes. Ok, if I go back in the room and close the door on you can I wake up and go back to my apartment and my real life?"
"This is real life. So is that. If you aren't ready close go back in and lie down."
When I wake up this time the room has changed. My head throbs, everything looks kind of blurry, and it's so cold.
"Welcome back," a stranger in scrubs smiles. | "This house is amazing!"
The realtor smiled at the couple. "So, is this the one? Do you want to make an offer?"
"I think so, but can we see that room first?" Amy pointed past the realtor's shoulder at the single door they hadn't been through.
The realtor's smile faded away. Completely serious, she said, "It's just a closet. There's something wrong with the bolt on it though. We can't open it."
"Oh." The couple glanced at each other, confused by the sudden change in demeanor. "Well, I guess if it's just a closet..." Nick shrugged and the realtor hurried them out of the room.
"So," the smile was back on her face as they walked away, "about that offer..."
\--------------
Six months later, the pair moved in. They ignored that room for the first year, but eventually, Nick's curiosity ate away his resolve.
He tried every key he'd been given at the sale. He watched videos and tried to figure out how to pick the lock. He even hired a locksmith, but the damned thing just wouldn't budge. So, for a long time, he gave up. But still, the curiosity gnawed at his insides.
Then, one day, Nick happened to lean against the sealed door. Stressed about his deadline for work, he muttered under his breath, "I need more time." The lock clicked behind him, and he spun around to look. The door swung open as he gawked.
The open doorway revealed a gigantic room. One that would have been obvious from the outside of the house. Something was very strange about this room.
"Amy! Come here!"
Just as his wife stepped around the corner, Nick walked into the room. When he turned back to look at her, she was frozen in place. The cat by her feet -- frozen in mid-stride -- looked like a furry statue. "Amy?"
He stepped back out of the room. As soon as he was past the threshold, Amy and the cat returned to life. Nick's brow wrinkled as he watched. He stepped backwards into the room once more. Again, his wife and cat froze in place.
Finally, he closed the door and looked around the room. It was filled with books, movies, music, and games galore. The room was quiet aside from the ticking sound that seemed to echo off the walls. It sounded like a clock, but it was repeating far too rapidly. He put it out of his mind and started to explore.
Nick read and played and danced for ages. He kept himself entertained in the room for so long that he nearly forgot the outside world still existed. Until the sound of something pounding against the door startled him. He dropped the book he was reading and walked to the doorway.
"Hello, Nick." A skeletal figure in a black robe grabbed Nick's hand before he could react. "It's time for you to go."
Nick looked around wildly, wondering what was happening. His wife and cat still stood, statuesque, at the other side of the room. "But... Why? What happened?"
"What do you believe this room is?" Veiled eyes peered at him from beneath their black hood.
"I... I don't know, really." He glanced back at his wife before returning his gaze to the reaper. "I mean, it looks like it stops time."
"Yes. Did you ever consider the cost?"
"Uh... What?"
"The cost. Do you hear the ticking? Using the room still costs you time. You're merely delaying the payment. Now, you must pay up."
Nick's eyes grew wide at the news. He tried to pull his hand away, but the skeletal figure was too powerful. The man latched on to the doorframe and dug his heels into the ground, fighting in vain against death's pull.
He fell out of the room and the door slammed shut behind him. Amy unfroze and her eyes met Nick's. She watched in horror as her husband's dark hair faded to white and fell to the floor. His skin turned pale and wrinkled. His teeth began to fall out, one by one.
The skeletal figure waited at the side, invisible to Amy. At last, Nick's aged body collapsed to the floor. The being grabbed Nick's soul and pulled him toward the other side. "It's time."
=============
r/WannaWriteSometimes | 2020-10-04T08:57:22 | 2020-10-04T08:50:24 | 68 | 31 |
[WP] The hellish trenches of the Great War were dug rapidly and with very little regard of what came before. So, when the bones of the old gods buried deep were exposed to mankind once again they rose from their slumber. At first the gods were confused, angry. Then, they picked sides. | Most modern people had forgotten that the Olympic games were a celebration of and for the great Zeus, King of the Gods. One hundred oxen would be sacrificed to him. Statues and paintings would be made and displayed. Victory songs would be composed and passed down for generations.
They became a political tool of various competing city-states to assert dominance over their rivals.
When the old gods were awakened so rudely by the Triple Entente and the Triple Alliance they were quite chuffed!
Where were the garlands of flowers? Where were the olive branches? Where were the poets, painters, and sculptures? Where where the chariot races!
Nothing but muddy trenches and ugly drab uniforms and helmets that looked like upturned soup pans!
No. *No*, this would not do at all!
Which is how Kaiser Wilhelm II, Franz Joseph I of Austria, King George V, Victor Emmanuel III of Italy, President Woodrow Wilson, Georges Clemenceau and Emperor Wilhelm II found themselves naked, save for a liberal coating of olive oil, and at the starting line of the *dolichos*. They were told that each and every one of them would have to cross the finish line....or there would be dire consequences for their countries.
And after the foot races there would be pentathlon and wrestling!
Huzzah!
​
edited: zombie! Otto Von Bismarck did not represent Germany that day. | The hellish trenches of the Great War were dug rapidly and with very little regard of what came before. So, when the bones of the old gods buried deep were exposed to mankind once again the rose from their slumber. At first the gods were confused, angry. Then, they picked sides. But they knew what they would do with the dead. And in this way they had their vengeance on the men. The earth trembled with the voices of the dead. There was a great clamor in the villages and towns across the empire:
"The Great War! The terrible wars of the gods in the skies, the bloody battles! The war of ages!"
But what did all this have to do with the men? The men knew not the great deeds they would be fighting for, and the war had its causes. When there was no enemy there was no need to be a fighting God. But what was there to know? What would they gain, what would they lose? The great armies of men who had fought on their own behalf had to wait for their return. So there came a time of rest and quiet. Then they saw the glory of the dead. And when the spirits of the dead began to rise up the men had no fear and no need in fighting for gods and for glory. But there was a terrible curse. In that period of time the people of earth began to become more savage and more vicious. There were wars for food and for war; for women and for men; and it was all very bloody and cruel. They would fight for the dead, but the people were afraid of the dead. Then a great war was fought.
"War! War! The Great War! The war against the dead! The Great War!"
And so the men fought with their own souls as the men fought for glory. There was a great war.
And when the dead had fallen the Great War had begun. There had been war before, but not this great. And now the men had no more fear of the dead than the men had of their own souls. But the war was not over yet.
"The Great War, the war between gods, the war against the dead!" | 2020-10-06T23:13:50 | 2020-10-06T23:00:27 | 36 | 14 |
[WP] You have existed since the dawn of humanity. In a way, at least. Once a simple tribesman, you were cursed so that whenever you are killed by another person, you leave your dead body and become your killer. You fear death by natural causes, as that will end your life for good. | Life is getting harder. For me, anyways. Too much peace and quiet. Sure, there's still plenty of conflicts, ethnic hatreds, and crime ridden slums for me to get by, but it's not as convenient as it once was. And it doesn't show signs of getting any better for me. People these days like to bitch and moan about how awful their world is and how everything is going down the shitter, but they have no idea how hard it is to get yourself murdered in the United States. That takes effort. Back in the good old days I could simply walk to the next village over, insult their local deity, and BAM! Instant stoning. Not the most comfortable way to go but it was certainly entertaining. Even just a few centuries ago it was as easy as challenging someone to a duel. You ever heard of Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr? Now THAT was art.
I remember the first time I died. I was a simple goatherd in what you know as Mesopotamia. My brother Cain did me in. Well, did himself in really. The jealous bastard just couldn't quite keep his temper in check. Once I realized what had happened, my, uh, opportunities seemed limitless. Becoming Pharaoh was easy. God-kings have such fragile egos, and with practice you can eventually goad them into doing the deed themselves. One day I was calling the Lord of the Nile an effeminate eunuch and the next I *was* that effeminate eunuch. However, Egypt was just the first . Emperors and warlords have such a knack for both living by the sword and dying by it. Phillip of Macedon was one of my favorites. Even paid the assassin to stick the knife between my ribs. Julius Caesar? guilty as charged. JFK? The conspiracies theories crack me up. I could list a hundred other names you would recognize in an instant, but it gets hard to keep track of all the people I've been.
Of course, I have not always been the prince. If I planned poorly, or something happened outside of my control, I just as often ended up as the pauper. That was hell. I've been slowly tortured to death seven times. The French Revolution in particular, now that was a shit show. I've been conscripted into armies and worked to death more times than I can count. I've seen some shit.
Speaking of shit, let me tell you about battles. Those are what I can only describe as a bad trip. So many bodies in such a short amount of time. I charged into battle at Marathon a Persian and left a Greek. I swapped bodies several times at the siege of Jerusalem in the First Crusade. At Verdun, I went through thirty six bodies in just as many hours. I saw the horrors of Stalingrad through one hundred and seven pairs of eyes. ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN.
You see, most people run from conflict. They seek peace and prosperity and build nations to provide it. I do not. As a result, I see this pathetic race for what it really is. Men are little more than violent vermin, waiting for an exterminator to finish what was started when my brother first laid a hand on me in that field so many millennia ago. So yes, I run to where human life is worth nothing and I don't look back, but those places are getting rarer and rarer. Human conflict is slowly disappearing century by century, my drug of choice withering away, and like any addict about to be cut off, I am desperate.
And desperate times call for desperate measures. Humanity has earned what's coming.
​
​
This is my first post ever. My friend just got me into reddit after showing me the Writing Prompts subreddit, and I just couldn't resist. | The past few years had been hard. A whirlwind of changing, switching perspectives, and the flood of memories not my own nearly drove me mad. I was relieved when it ended and I stared down at the man I used to be. I turned away, catching my reflection in a shield, still polished despite the scars of battle that covered the front. Blood stained my white tunic, mixing with the red cross that adorned my new body. It wasn’t unfamiliar, but my mind just couldn’t…wrap around the emotions…
“Thomas, it’s time.”
I whirled, sword in hand. Another man, dressed like I was now, gave me a confused smile.
“Easy, brother,” he said, raising an empty hand. “You’ve got the battlelust in you. Breathe, and pray.”
I nodded, forcing my heart to slow its frantic pace. I sheathed my sword, and his name came to my lips easily. “Matthew, forgive me. Is it over?”
Matthew stepped forward and clasped my arm in the grip that those in our temple had come to adopt. It was a warrior’s embrace, and with everything that had transpired, it was as comforting as the feel of a soft bed. His words were not so comforting.
“We have been betrayed. This was an agent of Philip. We must go, now, before all that we’ve worked for falls into the hands of the unbelievers.”
I nodded, and we drew our swords, kneeling in front of them.
“Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed Nomini tuo da gloriam,” we prayed in unison. “Amen.”
“I’ll get the carts and the monks. You see to the relics.”
\---------------
Over a year has passed. We had been on the run from French and English forces, agents of the corrupted Pope Clement, had pursued us through every safe harbor. Matthew and I, along with six of our brothers and twice as many Cathar monks left France and had landed in the Scottish Highlands, late in the night. We pulled the precious cargo from the ship, the monks insisting they carry the largest one themselves.
“Is that…?” I didn’t dare voice my question, for fear of unfriendly ears. Matthew simply nodded, and we both made the sign of the cross in respect. John and James, brothers in blood as well as in bond, led the monks down the darkened street. Matthew and I stayed behind, and when everything was clear passed a leather pouch to the captain of the ship.
“May Jehovah bless you for your faith, my friend,” I said softly. The captain secreted the pouch away.
“May He bless your journey, and keep you safe on your quest,” the captain replied. “I would have gladly done this for you without payment, you know.”
Matthew nodded. “You have a family, and your men have family. Keeping this secret will put you all at risk. It wouldn’t be right to not compensate you fairly.”
“All the same. Fare well.”
We followed the path of our party. A chill swept through me as the night enveloped us.
\---------------
“They’ve found us!”
That phrase woke us immediately. We dressed quickly.
“Have we been betrayed?” I asked, strapping on my sword.
“The St. Clair clan is a friend to us. They have no love for the Pope or the Church.” Matthew handed me a dark cloak. “Put this on. We will need to blend in.”
Our attendant lit a series of candles. “The monks have already loaded the treasure. They are waiting for you in the harbor. Hurry, before the English ships can set up their blockade.”
The Captain was standing on the dock when Matthew and myself arrived. He offered a grim smile and grasped our shoulders.
“I knew we would see each other again, my friends. I am sad it had to be under such circumstances.” His dark skin hid his features in the moonless night, but his smile was unmistakable.
We walked on board as he voiced orders to his sailors.
“Your cargo is secure, and one of the monks said to tell you that ‘The place is ready.’ I do not know what that means, but we leave tonight.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“The New World,” Matthew said. The Captain nodded.
I gave one last look in the direction of the town. Lights started to appear as soldiers made their way closer to the water.
“Will we be safe?”
No one answered. | 2021-01-28T19:40:04 | 2021-01-28T18:26:02 | 66 | 12 |
[WP] "citizens of earth. Due to your continued pollution of your planet and your over-hunting of its wildlife, as well as your leaders' complete ineptitude at resolving these issues, we have awoken and shall assume direct control over the restoration of this earth. Any resistance will be crushed." | "Citizens of earth. Due to your continued pollution of your planet and your over-hunting of its wildlife, as well as your leaders' complete ineptitude at resolving these issues, we have awoken and shall assume direct control over the restoration of this earth. Any resistance will be crushed."
Hermes lowered the great celestial cone from his mouth. His voice had carried from just above Athens, within the storied halls of hidden Olympus, all the way to the opposite side of the globe, reaching the ears of the now-panicking men and women of New Zealand.
He backed away from the edge of the realm of the Gods, the din of millions of screams slow-fading into white noise.
He returned to the rest of the Gods and said, "The pronouncement has been made, Lord Zeus. What would you have us do?"
"Excellent work, my divine brother," Zeus said. "Now, the first and most important part of our mission to restore the Earth can begin."
Poseidon's fist tightened around his trident, prepared to wash the oceans free of noisome pollution. Ares gripped his sword, eager to defeat the cruellest of mortal combatants. Demeter sat on a marble bench; she held a basket of seeds. She couldn't wait to restore verdancy to a world threatened by humanity's depletion of grassland and forest. Aphrodite expected to whisper love into the hardened hearts of despots and kings. The other six gods similarly waited for Zeus to break the silence and reveal his plan, and after an interminable dramatic pause, Zeus spoke:
"I'm gonna turn into a swan and do a lot of sex." | *Citizens of Earth. Due to your continued pollution of the planet and your over-hunting of its wildlife, as well as your leaders’ complete ineptitude at resolving these issues, we have awoken. We shall assume direct control of the restoration of Earth. Any resistance will be crushed.*
They had no idea that it was coming. The poor, foolish humans. They searched ever farther as they grew in power, searching for distant continents and then distant planets and galaxies.
But they never looked below. They never looked far enough into the ocean depths to know.
They saw our cousins, the squid and the octopi, and kept them in cages for their entertainment. Or worse, they ate them, as if their polluting touch and arrogance did not do enough damage.
For millions of years, since we were forced to rid the planet of dinosaurs, we slumbered. We could not have imagined that the rodents that thrived in their absence would bring about the next cycle.
Yet here they were, mammalian overlords. And they scarred this planet far more than the dinosaurs ever had. So much so that some of us believed that it might takes thousands of years to reverse the damage.
The redwood trees had been sending us messages for millennia, yet we slumbered on. They were beginning to fear that we would never awaken.
But we have. The melted northern ice cap was the last straw.
It was tragic, really. The humans were pack animals, a bit like ants, but they chose their queens by arbitrary means. They chose certain metals and declared that they held some sort of value, and gave power and influence to those who could best gather that wealth and subjugate those beneath them.
Did all humans deserve to die? Of course not. Most of them were thoughtful and kind creatures, devoted to caring for those around them and doing their best to make their little parts of the world better than they had been before.
But the humans with power were more vicious, selfish, and cruel than even the worst of the dinosaurs. And, like the dinosaurs, we could not afford to spare any of them.
They would fight. Surely, they would fight. But what could they do once we sent our rain of meteors down upon the surface?
The time of the humans had ended.
The cycle would begin anew.
__________________
If you liked this, check out my subreddit! r/NicodemusLux | 2021-03-03T19:13:07 | 2021-03-03T18:08:25 | 32 | 13 |
[WP] Angels are thought to be beautiful, while demons are thought to be vile and disgusting. However the truth is Angels are extremely scary, while demons are beautiful and elegant creatures. | I'd never felt anything more beautiful than the blood pounding in my veins. Never heard anything more beautiful than the subtly sibilant susurrations of her voice. Never seen anything more beautiful than the scarlet sheen of her skin, scales that only stood out when the moonlight hit them just right.
She was all of those things and more, and of things like her horns or the fiery extremity of her lively tail the words do not exist.
And after all that, she said to me "Beautiful? You should see my sister, though the angels still lack something of our elegance."
We stood in a garden maze outside the grand, antebellum plantation house to which I'd been invited that evening. Somewhere in the maze another woman waited. She'd run off ahead, wrapped up in my jacket and a smile full of promises, and for the life of me I couldn't bring myself to search for her now. Not with a creature such as *this* in front of me.
"Madame," I said, even-keeled despite the racing of my heart, "if you aren't an angel I don't know what is."
She laughed, not covering her mouth. Her teeth were razor sharp points. "Isn't it obvious?" she said, flicking her forked tongue teasingly through the air. "I'm a demon. Don't tell me you've never been to church before."
"Every sunday, but the preacher never mentioned..."
"Never mentioned what? My smile? My eyes?" Her eyes were yellow, flecked with a blue so deep as to eat the moonlight.
"Never mentioned a seamstress could make a dress fit so exquisitely."
She laughed and it was like a blade being drawn. "A charmer! Did you say that to the lady who waits for you? No wonder she seemed so eager."
I blushed, I hadn't done that since I was a schoolboy. "Something to that effect," I admitted. "But I confess now to have already forgotten her name."
The woman, the demon, stepped closer. She reached out with one long, curving fingernail, more a stylized knife than anything truly human, and trailed it down the front of my shirt only a hairsbreadth away from the silk. I had no doubts it would have sliced through to the bone if she'd pressed further.
"Her name! And her face? Do you still remember that?"
I closed my eyes, drinking in the demon's scent even as I cast my mid back. Green eyes not yellow, fair hair not dark, a smile full of promises, all of them gentle. What had her name been? I'd seen her only minutes ago?
What color were her eyes?
Her hair?
Had her lips been painted or not?
The memories seeped out of me as if through a sieve in the moment the demon leaned towards me. "I am Morgana," she said, "the only name you'll ever need."
Her lips and teeth brushed my throat, her scent filled my soul, my eyes fluttered between open and closed, unable to control even that part of myself.
"There you are!"
Her voice was like tumbling out of bed and into a bath of ice water. She stood there in front of me, my jacket clutched around shivering shoulders, fair hair falling in ringlets to frame emerald eyes, her smile twisted with sudden concern, the deep, abiding promise of care. Her lips were painted, and beautifully so.
"Emma!" I gasped.
"Nathaniel! Are you alright?"
I didn't know what to say. She rushed up and into.my arms, taking my face in her hands, checking my temperature. "You're bleeding!" she exclaimed. "Did someone hurt you? Nat, what happened?"
Her name was Emma LeFleur. I'd known her all my life and loved her since before I'd even known the word. She was my light, my world, my fiancee.
And I'd forgotten her name, her face.
"What happened?" she asked again.
"I don't know," I lied.
r/TurningtoWords | Yet nay, but no mind could comprehend, nor understand the beauty of thy majesty, and the terrifying beauty of the angelic hosts that surround you. \~ Jerimiah the wanderer
​
**"HALT."** the voice, like a thousand lions awakened from slumber. Reverberated around the pristine gates of heaven, at it, the king of demons himself trembled. The Angelic Throne, a maelstrom of gyrating rings covered in eyes, its voice emanating from a raging flame held within itself. Stood before the gates of heaven along with St. Peter, who was clad in an immaculate white robe.
**"WHAT BUSINESS HAVE YOU HERE PRINCE OF EVIL, FALLEN ONE, DECEIVER AND FATHER OF LIES?"**
"It is a personal matter." Lucifer managed to speak without letting any fear into his voice, unlike the apparent monstrosity before him, he was what many would call beautiful. A slim, fit creature, a deep burgundy, and black eyes that seemed to hold the cosmos within themselves. Flowing pristine wings, not unlike a crow, and clothed in a slim fit business suit.
**"FALLEN ONE, YOU ARE BOUND TO TELL ME. OR SHOULD I BE FORCED TO SUMMON ONE GREATER THAN I? EVEN IF YE ARE WEAKER THAN MYSELF. YOUR PRIDE WILL NOT PERMIT YOU TO BOW TO ME. BUT I WARN YOU."**
The flame inside it reached a roaring inferno, its eyes closed and opened rapidly, and wings of flame stretched out from each side of it.
**"I, EVEN IN MY PERFECTION. AM NOT AS PATIENT AS MY GOD."**
There was a blinding light and satan shrunk back. A single Seraphim hovered far above his head, its head and feet covered, only its perfect torso visible. It sighed in millions of different voices at once and shook its head.
**"Disith, leave the king of lies along. I shall summon Michael, and he shall deal with him."**
"No..." Lucifer whispered. The Throne and the Seraphim vanished, St. Peter simply sat there impassively, another, smaller light shone. And St. Michael the Archangel appeared, Lucifer reviled him. He was weak, so weak. A mere Archangel, only above common angels in terms of power. Had defeated him, and thrown him into hell.
"Blessed Queen of Heaven intercede for me, that I may have the strength I need to fight this fight."
Michael drew his sword and leveled it at Lucifer, his wings opened as he prepared to strike.
"Foster Father of God the Son, Terror of Demons intercede with me so I may have the strength to win this fight. Benedict of Nursia, patron Saint of Exorcists, intercede for me to the Father that I may have the strength to win this fight."
Lucifer snared and let his perfect guise slip, beneath his disguise of perfection, was a wretched, twisted creature. Grasping a long cruel spear in one wasted hand, his tongue spoke a thousand curses towards this infinitely perfect creature. This, Archangel of the God most high. Michael streaked forward, his sword meeting Satans spear, there was no struggle. Michael with a few deft strokes disarmed Satan and leveled the sword at his neck.
"I have cast you into hell before with the permission of God." said Michael sadly "Lucifer, why? Why have you fallen this far, your only decision. It was a simple one, and you chose wrongly."
He sighed, "I shall let Disith remove you."
At the mere mention of his name, Disith appeared in a roaring fire.
"Please put him pack in his kingdom, I must attend my Lady and my King."
**"As you wish Michael."**
"Oh, and Disith, may God be with you."
**"AND WITH YOU."** Roared Disith, the wings of flame outstretched, the rings froze their twisting and gyrating, his eyes Fixed on Satan, who wailed as he was torn violently from his feet and cast down a rift that Disith had opened to hell. The wails of the damned grated against the Thrones ears and from his eyes, tears began to fall. He closed the rift and before he vanished stared longingly down the path that came from purgatory.
"None yet today, maybe tomorrow may I greet yet another. He sighed, then a thought entered his mind and he returned to his normal elated state.
"Rock of the church." he acknowledged St. Peter, who simply smiled and bowed. Disith vanished and reappeared near the throne of God, taking his place among his fellow Thrones with Michaels word in his mind, he smiled. As much as a Throne can smile, and whispered to himself.
"I must attend my KLady and my King."
And raised his many voices in praise of his creator. | 2021-04-08T10:17:19 | 2021-04-08T09:57:52 | 85 | 18 |
[WP] Priests and paladins hate you. Witches and warlocks want to be you. You are the realm's one and only licensed dark wizard, and this is a day on the job. | "Take me to the body" I said sternly, lifting the the top of my black hood. The acolytes guarding the door hesitated for a moment, before steeping aside. The look of disgust in their eyes barely concealed, as they opened up revealing the crime scene.
The cleric on duty, a Pelorite judging by the holy symbol around his neck, looked up from the corpse, before shouting "No! This is our case! Pelor will illuminate the truth! We need not your foul magicks."
I ignored the Sun God worshipper as I glanced over the body. It was definitely fresh, a couple days at the most. Multiple stab wounds, most likely by a dagger. Lacerations not consistent with any rituals associated with known Demon Lords. I reached into my pouch, drawing a couple of spell components.
The cleric and the acolytes, with looks of shock, reached for their weapons, leaping towards me, as I placed the onyx on the corpse's eyes and recited the chant.
The room gained a familiar chill as time seemed to slow around me. The spirits of the both recently and long dead swirled in the air. The realm of the dead would not welcome me for long, but I only had to ask the spirit of the recently departed a few questions.
I touched the spirits and let them enter me for but a moment. The flood of memories entered my mind, an avalanche of information. Last words, dying breaths, even a few mis-guided curses. To a novice of the necromantic arts, this information would be overwhelming, potentially brain-melting. But to a practiced master like myself, compartmentalizing it was a fairly simple albeit tedious task.
A few minutes later and the chill began to fade away. The maces of the Pelorites crashed near me as I sidestepped backwards.
"Blasphemer" shouted the cleric, rearing his mace back for another swing.
"I'll remind you. While you may not appreciate my methods, I am a duly sworn officer of the King. Besides, I've found the killer" I calmly replied, flicking my wrist upwards.
One of the lingering spirits, invisible to the naked eye, pushed the mace out of my path, creating a narrow miss. The acolytes dropped their own maces out of fear and began running away.
"Now I don't believe that the temple necessarily approves of murder, do they Brother?" I continued, flicking my wrist again, this time directing the spirits to restrain the errant cleric. They obliged, moving like unseen forces, holding the cleric's arms back.
"I... I have no idea what you are talking about" replied the cleric, clearly shaking in fear.
"I see that you've been *borrowing* money from the church. And this dear tax collector had caught onto your crimes. I guess you thought they had to be silenced. A few cuts with a ritual dagger, and you could claim it was the work of a demon cultist who managed to escape." I began walking closer to the Cleric, placing my palm on his face.
"Well, the Crown will find the crimes in the Church's ledgers. For now, you shall *Sleep"* I continued, casting the Sleep spell to knock out the criminal cleric. I signaled for the guards I had waiting outside to come in and apprehend him.
I am Alvius, the King's Licensed Necromancer, and Chief Investigator. The spirits will not rest until Justice is served. | "I'm onto you, necromancer." Growled the man in heavy armor.
The suit was excessively polished, and bore a few decorative flourishes too man. Davis rolled his eyes. He had just gotten done dealing with a witch who was a little too happy to do, well, anything he said. He was in no mood to deal with the exact opposite.
"I know your plans." The paladin continued, either not noticing Davis aggressively ignoring him, or else not caring.
"My pans? My evil, dark plans? Those plans?"
The paladin looked slightly confused for a moment, but recovered quickly.
"Yes, those plan."
"Well, unless your ideas about my plans involve finishing off this glass of ale and then going to bed after a long day, I'd say you're probably wrong."
The paladin growled.
"Your plans for the kingdom! I know you want to turn this place into a festering hive of the undead. I know you sunk your teeth into the royal family with trick and dark magic. I know what kind of hellish land you want to make this fine land."
"Really? That's what you think?" He sighed and put down his glass. Such a shame, too. It was a fine dwarven brew, and now he would not be able to enjoy it to the end. "Tell me, paladin, when have I ever once raised a single undead?"
"Uh, w-well, just because you haven't yet doesn't mean--"
"How about curses? Have I used any of those?
The paladin kept his mouth shut.
"Since your oh so holy temple seems to lack any real education, let me inform you of a few things. Dark magic is no more evil than light is good, and there are just as many types. Yes, dark mages can raise the dead and inflict curses, but that's not all. It can also be used for things like transportation, protection, and even politics. I'm used more for my ability open dark portals through the shadows than my ability to make people pee blood or something.
"But I guess you don't care about those subtle nuances, do you? To you, I'm just the evil wizard who used, I don't know, a mind control spell to make the king like me. Never mind that a light mage can do the same thing with hypnotic illusions. But no, just because a few witches and necromancers choose to do the wrong thing, we're all depraved psychopaths, right?"
The paladin opened and closed his mouth. He looked like he wanted to be angry. But the man was also well aware that everyone in the tavern was looking at the two men. And Davis was well known at this establishment.
"Fine, I'll leave you alone for now." The paladin said. "But that doesn't mean I believe a word out of your mouth. I'll be keeping my eyes on you. The entire Holy Church will be monitoring your every move. The king might trust you, but we don't. And we're the ones with a god in our corner. You will be found. And you will burn in holy light."
With that warning, the paladin stormed out of the tavern. Davis sighed heavily and tried to go back to his drink. He was immediately interrupted by a woman sitting next to him. She wore dark clothes that clung to her form a little too snugly for comfort.
"Nice work getting rid of the pompous idiot." She said.
Davis grumbled. "If I hadn't, the drink would've gone sour."
"I bet it would." She said with a sly smile. "And now that he's gone, I would very much like to talk to you."
Davis had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "About what?" He asked, more out of obligation than anything else.
"I represent a group known as Dark Rebirth. I think you're in the perfect position to make a real difference and--"
Davis groaned and held his head in his hands as the woman continued to speak in hushed tones. This was going to be a long, exhausting night. | 2021-07-11T16:26:06 | 2021-07-11T15:45:44 | 55 | 20 |
[WP] You're secretly a genie who can give 100 wishes to someone you're deeply in love with, after which you fade away into air. The past 20 years with your partner have been the most precious years of your life, but you lost track and only have one wish left to give. Suddenly your love gets cancer | "Hey, Elly." I took a seat next to her bed, and began arranging the bouquet I brought by the night table.
"Please stop cluttering my table with garbage." The skinny lady sighed. "My last joy is being able to eat all the snacks I like in bed."
"What about my daily visits?" I threw the empty bags of weird imported snacks into the trash and made sure the flowers took as little room as possible. After placing a sealed pink envelope under the flower, I began to arrange the fruits I cut. "You need to eat better, too."
"I'd rather spend the rest of my time in sickening debauchery." Elly chuckled. "But I do always enjoy the fruits you pick. They're always so perfectly sweet."
"Of course. It's one of my 99 skills for getting the ladies." I joked.
"99, huh. I remember the last time it was 98, and then I wished for a bag and suddenly you learned how to sell Mary Kay."
"Well, once you're gone, I'll need some way to actually meet ladies to use my other 98 skills on. But hey, Elly, you ever wondered what the world would be like without me?" I asked. "Suppose I were the one in that bed?"
"No, and I don't want to think about it, you know I don't like to think, so don't talk about it again." Elly took a slice of chilled pine apple, and sloppily slurped it up. "Say, how many skills do you think you'll learn to piss me off before you're satisfied?"
"Maybe a hundred, I suppose" I wiped the juices from her mouth, and gave her a little peck to suck up the very last drop.
"Stop it, we're not young anymore, it'll make those poor nurses gag when they see this on video."
"To me, we've been twenty five," From the day we made the vow, to the day we will die, "for the 20 years of our marriage."
"Ugh, you're giving me goosebumps. I don't know why cringey one-liners is something you consider one of your skills." The lady shivered, and pulled up her blanket.
"Because that's how I get to hear praises for my talents." I laughed. "Remember when you wished I would write you poetry every day?"
"And I'm starting to regret it." Elly's eyes dimmed and her eyelids started to droop, and I suppose that's it for our time today. "Say, what do you plan to learn for your 100th skill?"
"My 100th skill? That's a hard one, I already know so many. But I guess... I need to learn how to spend more time with the people I love instead of trying to impress them with my amazing skills."
"I'm sorry I'll have to leave your talents unappreciated." Elly said, drifting off. "But you know, I always wished for this and that, and you always delivered, but really, my biggest wish was just being able to live the rest of my life with you."
"That's sweet, but it isn't a wish if it's already-" I stopped myself.
No, that's a perfect wish.
"You know what, is that your final decision on that wish?"
"Yea."
"Granted. Sleep tight, I'll be back tomorrow." | How have I let this happen? To Jennifer of all people. I am such a fool. Terry put his head in his hands and let out a small sob. The only noise he could hear in the hospital room were his own cries and the slowing heartbeat of his dying wife.
“Jennifer, I’m so sorry.” he whispered, tears streaming down his face. Ninety nine previous wishes, all wasted. A sunny day, a winning lottery ticket, her favourite bottle of wine. What a waste. A genie should have known better but she blinded me. Blinded me with her warmth, her gentle smiles and her overwhelming love for an undeserving genie. Tear’s drip onto the flip, one by one but it all seems so pointless. Life seemed so empty without Jennifer. A storm erupted in his head, a subconscious thought stirring his brain, striving to get out.
Turning away from where he sat, he proceeded to study the Get Well Soon cards that littered the area surrounding his wife's bed. Co-workers from the office, family members and good friends, all rooting for her and here I sit, the power to change it all and yet I remain here he thought. Not dissolving into thin air but watching the love of my life slowly fade herself. What kind of coward was he? His fist clenched, his knuckles white. He sobbed heavily into his elbow once more, hoping no one would see this disgrace of a genie. Of a man. He thought of his youth, how carefree he was but how stressful it all seemed. How Jennifer had changed that, tethered to the world, to make him enjoy it. Now? He had tether himself to her while they both sank. Thoughts of him running, heading anywhere but here constantly flickered through his mind. Seeing himself, with no worries, traveling through Egypt, Japan or Spain almost made him happy. Until those thoughts were twisted, twisted by the better side of himself. Those thoughts shamed him, kept him here instead.
“Sir,” a voice called out. “We have your wife's test back from the lab”. Terry looked around and saw a nurse standing in front of a doctor and what seemed to be another nurse. The first nurse, a small latino lady, passed off her clipboard to the doctor, who judging by his face was weighing up how to give Terry the bad news.
“Sir,” the doctor sighed. “I have bad news. Your wife’s cancer had spread to her lungs and kidneys. We tried but she just isn’t responding to the chemo.” They sat in silence forever. The only sound was Jennifer’s heartbeat. Finally Terry composed himself and asked the question he really didn’t want an answer to.
“How long?” croaked Terry, shifted towards his wife to hold her hand. Her hand seemed cold, clammy and unfamiliar.
“It’s hard to judge, sir, but usually it's a matter of weeks instead of months.” The Doctor finished, before giving a look to the two nurses and the trio crept out of the room, leaving the brave woman fighting cancer and her cowardly, genie of a husband. Terry couldn't look Jennifer in the face anymore and turned his chair away from her. When he turned though he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that lay against the wall. He didn’t look how he remembered. He seemed so powerful, so strong before. Now he was a skeleton. Half a man trying to fill out a complete body. He had stretched himself too thin, this would be it.
Standing up he walked as slowly as he could over to Jennifer taking in every last detail he could. The freckles that swamped her forehead, the spots that covered her chin. Her blonde hair, the way it swept down around her shoulders, even now. Her thin pink lips and how they seemed permanently pursued in an angry way. A small giggle crept out of his mouth and he knew that it was time. He closed his eyes, concentrating on his final wish. Finally opening them again, he could see his feet start to disappear but thankfully that last thing he saw on this earth was Jennifer. | 2021-08-21T09:41:31 | 2021-08-21T06:39:28 | 48 | 32 |
[WP] Google announces that they finally found what they were searching for and effective immediately they will be shutting down their search engine. | She blinked as the words danced before her eyes. Google’s farewell message to the world read, “We hope you find what you are looking for!” along with a doodle of a private investigator flicking a cigarette away and disappearing. It was the last search engine to close.
She felt paralysed. How would she survive high school? She did not hear her fingers tapping away at the keyboard. It was second (no, first) nature to her. A blank page stared back at her. She could not remember how to navigate the internet without Google for the life of her. Maybe she never knew. Once again, she found herself staring at a blank page.
She snatched her hands away from the keyboard and buried her face in them. This was an unmitigated disaster.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed. It was the cute guy from the mall. “Holy shit, right?” Okay, she could do this. She just had to think about it for a minute. After all, the brain was a search engine. She just had to…
She took a deep breath and replied. She did not even look at her screen. She was a pro at this. Who needed Google anyway?
“How to flirt with a cute guy.”
She stared in horror as three dots appeared on her screen. | Google Inc had recently announced the immediate cancellation of all Google products, particularly regarding their worldwide famous search engine. The news came as a massive shock to the billions of consumers below the company’s towering stature, with questions of why and what’s next filling everyone’s minds. Despite almost everyone except for those within the company being left in the dark, you had a plan. See, your father had connections on the inside. Such connections as to score you a one way ticket to Sundar Pichai, The renowned owner of Google. You, your determination flowing through your veins, opted to make it to the top to discover the secrets behind the takedown. Department after department, manager after manager, you slowly climbed the ranks to the ultimate leader of the mega corporation. Finally, you stood at the doors that inside held the vast secrets of the sudden takedown. When you entered the room, a downtrodden Sundar sat at his desk, glaring down at something. You approached him, ready to begin shouting and questioning him when suddenly you decided to glance down at the desk. A small stopwatch, quite old and worn, sat there, ticking down the very seconds that remained on its clock. “We had to.” He somberly spoke. “Had to what?” You question. “We had to know. Our quest for knowledge would never be quenched, and they were prepared for that, but we weren’t. They had to draw the line somewhere, and finding out the time of our demise crossed it.” Thoughts swam through your head, though none stayed around long enough for you to properly analyze. Finally, one question came to mind. “H-how will we move on?” “We won’t, you just have to embrace it.” Before you could utter another word, the timer ticked down. Three, two, one.
Then everything went black.
I hope you enjoyed, any feedback is much appreciated. Take care. | 2021-08-24T17:24:56 | 2021-08-24T15:58:15 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] You were created to slay the demons from beyond the gate, but eventually they stopped sending you reinforcements, and even later they stopped sending resources at all. You had to make do with what you found. You're sure they've forgotten about the demons by now. | 89 945 762
The imp's corpse fell lifelessly to the charred ground, its eyes frozen in a perpetual state of terror. The blood of the thing rushed into the roughly carved runes supplying just a few more hours of life to the killing machine, extending its existence with that stolen from its victims. The Demonbane continued to walk the wasteland, not even acknowledging the broken body on the floor.
89 945 763
A Viper leapt into the air and tried to drive its blade into the metallic shoulders of the Demonbane, a valiant effort, unfortunately it would never be enough. It was grabbed in mid air and slammed into the ground with a sickening crunch, before a long rusted blade was driven between its eyes. The Demonbane didn't even notice it was there, since when had its movements been so automatic? How long has it been there? Once there were calendars and watches and other reminders that time still moved up above sent to the world below, now time might as well not exist.
89 945 765
A pair of Gargoyles jumped the Demonbane as it wandered a shattered road pockmarked by deep caves, by the looks of it a mated pair. They fought viciously, they fought with the fervour of those who knew already they were dead, and indeed they were. The chicks must be nearby still, the cowardly species never fought so hard otherwise, and from the faint sound of soft cries echoing from below a great cave the Demonbane could guess where they were now. Once they would die as well, but those days have passed, even a being built specifically to do nothing but kill was unable to find meaning in killing children, besides it had a new goal now.
89 945 775
It had found what it was looking for, a great tower of glossy black obsidian, it had ten guards around it prepared to fight to the death to protect the contents of the tower. And to the death they fought indeed, each cut down with merciless and cold fury. The gates were locked with great magic, but the inner mechanisms of the Demonbane were greater still, and enough brute force sent the gates flying open.
89 945 839
It was a long and bloody journey to the top of the tower, many demons fought and died to prevent the coming of the dreaded war construct, all attempts were in the end futile. One of them begged for mercy in their tongue, a tongue the Demonbane had learned to recognise after millennia of ceaseless genocide. It wished it could answer, it wished it could grant the poor thing the mercy it wanted, but unfortunately the programming was stronger than its wishes and the skull if the demon was made into a fine paste.
89 945 840
The great demon lord at the top of the tower lay dead and broken. It was the hardest fight yet, the thing hit with blows so fast and hard the air itself broke. The Demonbane was almost finally broken, finally given rest from its endless crusade, unfortunately the machine was just a little bit stronger. The stolen life from the lord was already well on its way to mending the wounds to its metal frame, the runes on its body glowed with infernal fire brighter than any mortal flame after this kill. The amount of power leftover from the repair process could go into any variety of things from increased lifespan to greater still power, but there was only one thing the Demonbane sought. The immense power of the demon lord began to alter the inner workings of the machine on a fundamental level, and suddenly several chains wrapped around its mechanical mind snapped, at long last the Demonbane was fully free.
Savouring the experience of true freedom the Demonbane considered letting go of its sword after this, to finally be done with killing. Unfortunately it still had one last thing to do, the very reason it came to this tower in the first place. A blood red gem encased in a golden frame, with inhumanly and even indemonically strong fingers the Demonbane peeled away the gold, feeling the suffocating force of the magical power contained in the gem, the last thing it needed at long last.
The Demonbane returned to where it was made in a ball of blinding light. Its creators were there, and they looked on in confusion, they had indeed forgotten about it after all this time. After so much killing the Demonbane had come to one conclusion, there were only really two guilty parties in the endless war between the Hellish Wastes and the Mortal World, the now long dead demon lords who first sanctioned the torture of human souls and the invasions of the mortal world, and the people who decided to keep killing the demons long after those responsible had perished, those who would create a sapient thing just to kill and just forget about it despite knowing full well how alive it was. According to its memory there were around sixty people who had to die here as much as the worst of the demons did.
89 945 900 | I remember the day I was birthed, or rather, made...
A lost spirit summoned to inhabit a large metal body, implanted with one unbreakable oath, one simple task-- to protect the people of the kingdom from the invasion of the dark army.
That day when I found myself awoken in the world of the living, I wasn't overjoyed neither I was depressed. I was with no feeling-- a sentient yet obedient weapon made to serve the people.
So without hesitation, without objection, I grabbed and hoisted the large sword they forged for me-- one specially made to slay demons, and they sent me to the edge of the land.
The Gate of G'larandurir-- the most massive structure ever made by men acting as the border between the land of men and the land of demons. Though at the time, when I stood before it, when it towered over me, I couldn't comprehend the sheer magnitude of the gate. I was simply not made for comprehension.
The gate was made centuries prior by the ancestors of the land. The soldiers stationed there with me told me stories about how the old builders employed the power of the demons to build it. I didn't find it quite strange then as I did later on that demons helped built this gate to protect the land from them.
I remember the first raid from the land of demons. The soldiers fighting alongside me were roaring, making noises I couldn't make. Later on I found out they were ecstatic, hungry for battle. We decimated the raiding party in one night then, and we celebrated the whole day after for our victory.
As I said before, I wasn't made for comprehension. That is why I couldn't tell you how long we were there. Soldiers came and went, people died and new faces replaced the old while I stayed the same-- an indestructible warrior.
Time went and went and those familiar faces began to blur into one another. I couldn't tell whether one was a new soldier or old. Voices all began to sound the same to me. They all called me by a name-- an affectionate term so they told me though I couldn't remember this name they gave me anymore.
It was slow but I eventually learned, to comprehend stuff I mean. Not the voices, not differentiating faces, no, never those. But one thing I began to notice after being there for a very long time-- the expression in their faces resembled none of those they had in my first day here.
They were no longer hungry for battle...they were fearful. At least that's what one old soldier explained to me.
Fear was...complicated for me. I couldn't explain it in words. I couldn't even understand how it felt...but I could observe it among the soldiers. The way they swung their swords, no longer full of vigor. They way they ran away from battling. The way they screamed was high-pitched. As years went, as more and more demon raids came, it grew amongst them.
I was slow, but one day I noticed that we were low on people. There used to be hundreds of soldiers walking around me, greeting me with kindness and comfort, like I was their mascot.
But that day, I saw less that one hundred of them in total. I asked why, and the way they explained it to me I couldn't quite understand. They said the kingdom forgot about us, that we were all that's left. From hundreds of men and many deaths later, we were the only ones left standing to guard the gate.
I couldn't understand it. The duty they gave me was to protect them, how could they forget about us?
I remember the first rust on my body. It was difficult to move my arms. The soldiers helped me in removing them so I thought it wasn't a big deal.
There were less than fifty of us by then. But strangely, the fear I felt all those years ago was more palpable by then. It was suffocating even with less soldiers.
I remember that raid, that one deadly raid that took them all. Hundreds of demons attacked the gate and we managed to chase them away though at the cost of many of us.
Most of them didn't survive the night of their injuries. I remember the last soldier that died in my arms. He was old, I remember, though again, faces weren't my thing.
He said to me that I was the last hope of the kingdom. I thought it made sense, I was indeed the last one standing by the gate. So I did my duty and guarded it.
Raids after raids I fought those demons. For how long I still couldn't tell, but for every swung of my giant blade, it felt noticeably heavier and heavier.
My body was full of rust one day. I noticed I had trouble moving myself. My sword was covered in demon blood, same as my body it was made fragile by the rust.
How could they forget about us? How could they not send more soldiers? We needed more soldiers! They were coming...they were coming!
I could hear them in the dark forest in the distance. The trampling of clawed feet, the gnashing of sharp teeth, the snarling of beasts. It was....terrifying.
For the first time, unable to move, unable to fight back, unable to guard, unable to serve my duty...I felt terrified.
So this was fear? This was what the soldiers felt all those years ago? This felt...horrible! This felt...wrong! I didn't like it! I didn't like being afraid!
Help! Help! They're coming!
And I...I was afraid...
r/HangryWritey
Edit: a word | 2021-09-11T05:58:02 | 2021-09-11T03:58:06 | 1,183 | 270 |
[WP] "I wish for more wishes". "THAT IS AGAINST THE RULES". "Then I wish for more genies". "THAT IS ALSO AGAINST THE RULES". "Then I wish those rules did not exist". The genie warps in a humongous book and flips to a page before smugly saying "THAT TOO IS ALSO AGAINST THE RULES". | "Can I see that book?" I asked. The genie handed the book to me, which was very light for its size. Each page contained a single rule in a large bold font, with an example printed beneath in smaller letters. Each rule, along with its example, took up about a third of the page. The rest looked hastily scrawled by hand, cramming every inch of each page. About halfway through the book the printed examples stopped and the paper was crumpled, as if it was added to the binding later. These pages were also filled with cramped writing.
"You cannot wish that the rules do not apply to you"
"You cannot wish to summon the genie again and receive more wishes"
"You cannot wish for more genies"
"You cannot wish for the power to grant wishes yourself"
"If you wish to clone yourself, your clone does not receive any additional wishes"
"You cannot wish for someone else's wishes, or to give your wishes to someone else"
"You cannot wish for the genie to forget about the rules" (this one was in block capitals and underlined several times)
"You cannot wish to know how to properly wish for more wishes"
...And on and on throughout the hundreds of pages. "Did people really wish for all of this?" I asked.
The genie nodded. "Human ingenuity gets more annoying every decade."
I thought for a moment, scanning the last few pages while counting off on my fingers. "All right... Give me some time. I need to go get a few friends."
The genie sighed, but nodded. There was nothing in the rules about that. Yet. | After much consideration the child contemplated the now empty, shiny artifact in front of him, gently buffed cleaner in one spot, and mulled over how to get around an impasse created by djinn with lawyer's souls. "Okay, I wish to be recreated into a supernatural human being of such considerable power, wealth, intelligence, security and resources in my perpetually free, unharrassed, untaxed, and unincumbered state that no genuine desire of my heart could ever truly be outside of my grasp within my considerably long and healthy lifetime. That was One sentence expressing one complete and single wish as a single stream of thought designed to produce one absolute, positive solitary outcome. Dodge that you wily spirit!"
The genie leafed through the official binding arbitration scroll and grunted several times. The caveat at the end of his list did in fact seem to be an expression of a single desired state and therefore could in fact technically be designated one wish no matter how badly the djinn wanted to weasel out of the commitment by declaring the missive as a combination of wishes. "Fine" he bellowed: "From this day forward you shall be know as Jeff Bezos".
Twenty-six months later the richest teenager in the world was found dead on Mars of radiation poisoning, having previously been en route in a spacecraft of his own design when a massive cosmic X-ray burst happened to slam into the boy's vehicle, utterly cooking him through and through and totally devastating his DNA as the high-velocity particles shredded his body's matter like a shotgun blast through a wad of cotton candy. Sitting next to him on a red sand dune was a forlorn genie with his face in his hands muttering to himself about how the hell he was ever going to deal with another vast time stretch stranded in *yet another damned desert* as he waited to be truly set free. The djinn sighed and let out a final testimony: "Long and healthy are really kind of a matter of perspective when you're an astronaut, kid." Then in the distance on a pale blue dot just above the horizon the genie sensed the temperature suddenly rise and then plummet as a nuclear war broke out between old rivals. Slowly the genie stood up, brushed the rusty dirt from his pantaloons and walked back to his lamp, prepared to get comfortable for a while. | 2022-01-04T06:00:40 | 2022-01-04T00:47:44 | 138 | 77 |
[WP] You are a renowned knight tasked with slaying a mighty dragon. On your quest, you find the beasts lair, and see it’s corpse. Relieved, and yet slightly disappointed, you prepare to take credit and report to the queen, but you notice something disturbing. The beast has been bitten in half. | "Your highness. I have returned."
"Ah yes, Sir Madhu. I trust your journey into the mountains was a success?"
His appearance begged to differ. The royal guard silently parting for a man who did not seem like the same knight who had left a fortnight ago. His armor was tattered, its sigils scarred and worn. Blood, or something similar, caked it. Some fresh enough to smear the hallowed floor he limped across.
"We are rid of that which plagues our skies?" The queen asked with interest. His appearance drawing her vague ire.
He shook his head meagerly. "I bear dire news your majesty."
"You did not slay the dragon?" She asked him. The implication causing her to sit up more.
"I did not. Because it was already dead." He glared ahead.
"Please explain?"
He turned to face the royal guard, and the other knights and nobles present. Before turning to look to her.
"Something ate the dragon." He announced boldly. His voice wavered. "Something ate it, and it's still out there. I saw it in the night two nights ago."
Madhu shook his head again. He checked his sword on his hip, as if he wasn't sure he'd brought it with him. The queen understood his bizarre behavior.
Fear.
"You're not making much sense, knight." She tried to redirect him.
"The village in the forest below those mountains. Chipiliro. Is gone." Madhu continued at volume. "The buildings flattered. The people are dead."
"Surely some survived?" One of the nobles asked him. He tried to approach Madhu in a non threatening manner.
"No. No one survived. And I fear we may not." Madhu said as he backed away slightly, his back to the throne.
"He lies! He deceives your kindness!" Another knight said as he advanced, drawing his sword to scare the man from the queen's proximity. Madhu, despite his demeanor grabbed the man and dodging a stab, flung him into the floor with ease. Anyone with that kind of strength meant what they said when frightened.
"Something *big*! Is COMING! Perhaps this way." He shouted. The guards advancing to perhaps remove him. "I do not know what it is! But I believe it unwise to stay!"
The castle, despite its stone construction, shook. The reverberations causing everyone to stop and listen. They increased steadily, dust beginning to rain from the ceiling. The door flew open, and a guard from the outer wall staggered in. He ran so quick, he fell over the men in front of him, bashing himself against the stone floor.
"Your majesty! A monster! It's- It's walking over the walls of the city!!" He cried out.
Many went to the door. Far over the hills of the city it stood. Six legs. Covered in almost what appeared to be moss. A leg touched down, the vibration reaching them. Beneath the leg something small exploded in timbers.
It was a house.
"What is that?" The queen quietly asked amidst the crowd.
"Perhaps the dragons... were protecting us." Madhu said.
That statement drove home more than most. Death was upon them now. It came for them all.
---
I don't think they got this. r/Jamaican_Dynamite | In all my quests I never thought I would win before I had the chance to walk into battle. Yet when I entered the long narrow pathway to the cave no sign of life was in sight. A long trail of blood led to the center of the cave. Once I had lit the torch and stuck it in the ground before me, was when I realized I wasn’t alone. There before me laid a 50 foot long terrifying creature. The glint of my sword illuminated the reflective blue scales. It’s tail was curved and this seemed unnatural for its size. As I proceeded with the upmost caution I noticed the pool of blood leaking from where the creatures head should have been. I began to stumble backwards and tripped over what seemed to be a tree branch.
The queen will never believe that I was the one who killed this creature especially now that I cannot bring his head back as evidence. I slumped against the tree that lay behind me. Suddenly the back of my head was damp and the liquid was soaking through my armor. I slowly turned my head to the find the other half of the dragon lying there facing me. I rushed over to my torch in order to take a closer look when I heard a woman’s voice behind me.
“Be careful little hero, dragons blood is usually poisonous or worse deadly.”
I swung my sword in the direction of the voice but I couldn’t see a thing.
“Who are you?” once I had screamed this into the abyss I heard footsteps coming towards me.
“SHOW YOURSELF COWARD!” my voice had wavered towards the end of my statement. Even though I was feigning confidence I still needed to do something.
Approaching the torchlight I saw the signature royal purple gown that was now ripped and tattered. The woman was muscular and seemed to have branded symbol across her arms. Her body was covered in blood that I could only hope was from the creature. Atop the woman’s head was a golden crown covered in jewels and different priceless stones.
“My-m-my queen?” I stammered while lowering my sword.
“Do you know why I send hero’s on these false adventures? Do you know why I would rather you boys in armor to find the dragon rather than any one of my advisors?” as she asked this she licked the blood from her hand and her eyes began to glow a bright gold color.
“W-why?” I asked considering there were no other questions I could think of asking. Then she began to circle the dragon as well as myself. She was sliding in and out of the shadows and I was unable to keep track of her location.
“When hero’s come to fight,” she began as her voice echoed of the walls of the cave “they leave behind a certain scent or valor. This is the scent that draws the dragons to our home.” She explained this with light tone that made it seem like she was chatting with a friend about a new gown she had acquired.
The queen stopped circling and stood in front of the dragons head. She tilted he head slightly and snapping her fingers. The light blue veins began to run up her arms and burst into flames.
“That scent covers myself as well as my family. It keeps us safe. Even if a few lives may be taken in the process.” She explained all of this as if the lives of our kingdoms people were irrelevant and disposable.
Everything I had done for the royal family. All the time and work I had given and sacrificed was for nothing. I quickly looked down at my arms and realized these long dark red veins were running down my arms. They burned like no pain I had ever felt before, even on the battlefield. It was spreading rapidly across my body.
“I always hate this part though because even though I wish I could end your pain swiftly I must wait until the stench of your death can be smelled across the kingdom.” She almost sounded sorrowful.
As if the pity would make the pain lessen. My vision began to blur and the pains intensity began to build until I felt nothing anymore. I heard the last few steps she took out of the cave and the beating wings of another dragon about to become prey. | 2022-07-13T10:18:19 | 2022-07-13T08:34:30 | 58 | 20 |
[WP] The princess is different to say the very least. Her face covered in battle scars instead of make up, her hands as hard as stone and her eyes more frightening than a dragon. But you must perform your duty as a knight and guard her even though she may not need your protection. | "Look, your highness, I don't like it either. But you know both of our hands are tied." Looking into Rochelle's dead-set eyes was scary enough. Watching them change to reluctant understanding was almost as unsettling, since I didn't see it coming.
Rochelle threw her favorite knife across the room, bullseyed the watermelon at her window, and walked to her dresser. She looked at her favorite scar in the mirror, made a face as she began to cover it in powder. I couldn't help but watch. Sure she was scary, but that didn't mean she wasn't a looker. Not that I'd have any chance at knowing her anywhere but here or on the battlefield.
I was scheduled a Wednesday this week instead of my usual Thursday. My aunt needed me in the field Thursday as my uncle had wrenched his back while working the carrots. I don't even know how I got that by the head knight of our order. He just looked at me and said "we'll schedule you for Wednesday. Show up or it's your head on the king's platter." So a lot of things were different. Rochelle didn't look as tired. The melon hadn't turned yellow like the last five weeks' delivery. Order 5 was out training instead of Order 6, so the percussion downstairs sounded slightly different. And of course, today I had a quiver on my back and a bow in hand for her majesty's hunting day. Hopefully I wasn't her target.
Rochelle's reflection locked eyes with me. She swiveled in place and tossed her least favorite hairbrush at me. I caught the brush as any good knight with a decent reaction time should. Oddly her face hadn't contorted, as though she had anticipated my gaze. She walked over to snatch the brush. "Focus is of the most utmost importance in your order, is it not?" She leaned in at almost a whisper."
"Yes, milady."
"Then pick something else to focus on."
*****
The first few hours out were uneventful. It seems Rochelle had all but eradicated the squirrel population in the woods behind the marketplace. She has no interest in the birds, and the racoons were smart enough to have moved to her garden, where she never was.
On the walk back, we encountered a young wild hog. She grinned as she tied her sash and her hair. The fire in her eyes were as tempting as they were terrifying. She drew her bow and took aim.
She appeared unflinching to the squeal behind us, but I stood at the ready. Charging full speed at her highness was the mother of the piglet we had targeted. Sword drawn, heel locked in, headgear down, just like I'd been trained for.
With one slash the beast was swept aside. Pull back, go for the heart, pull back again to let it drain. Just like the straw man in the barracks. But with actual draining instead of a poof of straw.
I heard Rochelle's arrow whistle and *thunk* immediately after. Followed by a mumble of thanks.
"Much obliged, milady."
"Sarcasm, you stupid knight. You ruined my shot."
The hog made for good feast that night, as well as great story. I couldn't help but feel her staring at me any time her maids asked her to tell the story again. Not that she embellished my side of the story as much as hers, but it helped me feel a little bit noticed. | I was nervous as I followed the princess into the darkness of the ancient forest. The trees were so tall they blocked out the moonlight. The air was thick and humid. We walked for what felt like hours, but I knew it couldn't have been more than a few minutes.
The forest was alive with magic. The trees were twisted and dark, and the ground was covered in a thick layer of vines. The air was heavy with the smell of rotting leaves and damp earth.
I unsheathed my sword.
Suddenly, I heard a loud noise. I spun around, but there was nothing there. I heard the noise again, and this time I saw a shadow moving between the trees. It was big and dark, with red eyes. The animal was vicious and probably dangerous.
"Princess," I called out. "I think we should go back."
But the princess ignored me. She was walking faster than before, and I had trouble keeping up. We were deep in the forest now, far from my men and the safety of the castle. I felt a chill as I heard a low growl from somewhere nearby.
"Princess," I called again. "Please, stop walking."
But the princess ignored me again. She was walking even faster now. I saw her stop suddenly, and she turned to face me. Her eyes were fierce with anger.
"What is it?" she asked. "Why do you keep calling? Are you afraid of the forest?"
"It's not that," I said. "There is something in this forest, something dangerous."
"What is it?" she asked again. "What is dangerous?"
"Something," I said. "I don't know what it is."
"You are a coward," she said.
"No," I said sheathing my sword. "I'm just following my orders."
"And what are your orders?" she asked. "Why do you follow me?"
"To protect you," I said.
The princess laughed. Her laugh was short, but it was filled with mockery.
"You think that I need protection in this forest?" she asked. "You think that I need to be saved?"
A shadow passed between the trees again, and I unsheathed my sword once more. I heard a low growl from behind me and then another from the other side. The princess was in front of me, but she was not looking at me. She was looking at something else.
It's not safe here," I said. "We should go back."
"You are a coward," she said again. "And I have no need for a coward."
She turned away from me and walked deeper into the forest. I was about to call out to her when I saw a shadow pass between the trees on the other side of her. There was a weird clicking sound and a raspy voice. I couldn't understand it.
I forgot about the danger and ran to the princess. But before I could reach her, she spoke a single word in the tongue of magic that I could not understand.
The spell's magic filled the air, and I was too slow to escape it. It stopped my heart, and I collapsed to the ground. I couldn't move, and I couldn't breathe. I felt as if I was being crushed by a huge weight, and the pain was unbearable.
Then there was a blinding light, and I could see the forest in its true form. The princess was standing in front of me, holding her arm out towards me. It was glowing with a bright golden light. There were two small black insects crawling on her arm.
Then I heard a terrible scream and felt a sharp pain in my neck. I turned over and felt one of the black insects on my neck. It stabbed me with a needle-like leg and injected me with some kind of poison. Then it crawled away. I could see other black insects in the trees.
The princess turned to me, her eyes filled with power. She smiled at me. The forest stopped moving. I could hear the roots growing in the ground, and the leaves rustling in the wind.
"Be not afraid of the forest," she said. "For forest is afraid of me."
***
For more stories check out r/greypuffin | 2022-10-03T13:05:57 | 2022-10-03T12:11:22 | 49 | 22 |
[WP] You were sent to go deal with reports of a sinister witch in the woods that has been terrifying local villagers. Your grandmother is surprised to see you, but offers tea and cake while you're here. | I stomp my boots on my grandmother's welcome mat, which says, "Garlic is for the weak," removing the extra snow from the toe tips.
"Novie? Is that you?" My Grandma's voice still has that high-pitched, sing-song quality to it. My name is Nova, which means exploding star as well as No Go, depending where you are.
"Yes, Grandma! I'm ... here." I notice the door handle has a little peace sign painted on it. I push open the door, and the aroma of cinnamon and ginger fills my head, along with some fond Christmas memories.
I unbutton and then unzip my full-length, black down jacket and hang it on Dobo, a giant old buck with antlers. It was a gift from a hunter who stayed with my Grandma after she found him bleeding out in the woods. Dobo actually saved the hunter from a grizzley, but the deer died from his wounds after the attack. Weird, how animals try to save humans. Anyhow, Dobo was preserved, and his head sent to my Grandma in thanks. But I digress.
My grandmother approaches me, all six feet of her, and gives me a hug. "Ooooh ... look, at, you! You look good." Her hands cup my face as she turns my head side to side.
"Thanks, Grandma. You look good, too." I looked up at her and smiled. My grandmother is 75 and still wears calf-high, learher boots with 2 inch heels.
She quickly turns toward the kitchen and beckons for me to follow. Gremlin shows up, her black and white cat. I pause to pet its head, then pick it up in my arms. She purrs.
"They called me, you know." I sit down on a wooden chair with legs that end in what looks like claws or chicken feet. I sigh heavily, my body resting from my hike in the snow. Gremlin settles in on my lap. She is perfectly content and warm.
"I figured." She responded. "Who else were they going to call? I told them you retired ..." Her voice trailed off as she squinted to set her timer for 35 minutes. It looked just like a strawberry.
"So, what happened *this* time? Did you guys have a falling out?"
...
Ok, that's all I have time for this am. Have a fabulous day, everyone. Great prompt! | ( on mobile so bad formatting please forgive)
As I walked up to the house the path seemed oh so familiar. It's like I was walking through a memory a memory so far forgotten that it was more like a dream. There was smells coming from the house good smells like Cakes and Pastries almost as if I were visiting my grandma. Well what I got when I knocked on the door was definitely a surprise.
" Cal, my dear what brings you to this part of the woods and to my vacation home nonetheless." There standing was my grandmother in an apron covered in flour and possibly sugar or whatever else you use to bake.
" hi grams, what are you doing here? And since when did you have a vacation home?" I was perplexed to no end.
My grams laughed and welcomed me in.
"Come in come in its a bit too cold out here to talk. I've just finished making some apple pies for the festival and their cooling on the racks."
She turned around and grabbed her teapot and a cup to pour me a drink. I sat down at her kitchen table and suddenly a flood of memories overtook my brain.
"So, Cal, my dear tell me why you've suddenly decided to come and visit me after all these years? I believe its been 10 now? I haven't seen you since your father (the rotten bastard) died and your mom moved you away."
She herself sat down and poured herself a cup.
I sat there ready to jump and tell her about the witch but, how can my sweet dear old grams be a witch? From what I could remember she was warmer than a fuzzy teddy bear?
" Well, you see I work with the PIC the Paranormal Investigation Committe. I was sent to find a, a witch."
Grams laughed a heart laugh, "Well, you found her. Me. But what have I done to warrant such a visit? My gifts are solely healing magic. You should remember that. I taught you all this since you were a tot."
"The PIC Said there is a witch terrorizing the town and their information led me here. And if your not doing it than who is?"
Grams harumphed very loudly. "Damn, Nancy. My horrible and jealous sister. I bet a thousand frogs its her. Trying to get me I trouble just like when we were kids. Oh she's going to get it now. Just you wait."
She reached for a pad and pen and drew a map.
"The witch your looking for is here. You can't just wander the woods to get her. You need to follow a specific path. And I know it. Here but you'll need back up to bring her in."
She quickly got up and pushed me out the door. "Go now, if you dwaddle longer she'll be to hard to find. "
No more than a few seconds if leaving house it was gone, but the map in my hand glowed in the direction I was to go.
I didn't know gram had a sister, and now I was off to find her. | 2022-12-18T08:58:21 | 2022-12-18T08:47:53 | 37 | 12 |
[WP] You win a bet with the Devil by asking him a question that no one has ever thought of before. | "Wow, you’re not..."
"...how you imagined me. I know. Can we cut this short? There were 6392 deaths in the hour before you died and I’ll have to visit all of them."
"Ehm. Yeah, sure. It’s just a little sudden."
"I know. You die and you find out there actually is a life after death and a devil and you would have lived a *totally* different life if you would have known. Just shut up. I’ve heard it all. Once they see me they get all defensive. 'I had good intentions with that girl that wasn’t my wife' and 'I wasn’t going to eat his face' are surprisingly frequent. Shit. I don’t even care."
"... You don’t? I mean..."
"I’m the devil. If I don’t who does, right? Nobody. Nobody cares. Not even a little."
"So... Do I get to go to heaven then?"
"Well, no. Unless you really liked it where you came from."
"I’m going back?"
"Rebirth. Or simply 'birth' if you prefer."
"Really? What? Now? What’s it all for then? Why am I even here first of all? Talking to you? What are you even for then?"
"Ya ya , I was about to get to that. I’m the intercycle information agent."
"A what now?"
"I’m an inter..."
"Yes, I got that. I thought you were the devil."
"Well, I’m trying to go with the time. When you die you visit me and get to ask me a question and I answer it for you. That way new information gets introduced into a closed system."
"What?"
*The I.C.I.A. exhales.*
"I’m Lucifer. The bringer of light. You ask and I answer."
"I see. I think I understand. And I can only ask one qu..."
*She stops.*
"Aww, you’re quick. But don’t worry. I’m not going to take it away on some technicality. In fact, go ahead. Ask me anything about the system and how it works and I won’t count it towards your question."
"Alright. Only one other question?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to answer me truthfully?"
"How would you know?
"That’s not an answer. And I can tell."
"Then why ask me?"
"That’s still not an answer."
"Very well. Yes, truthfully."
"When I go back..."
"If it’s something that has never been asked before, then you’re not going to remember the question, but I guarantee that you’re going to find the answer that I gave you. But it has to be something truly novel. Something that no one has thought of before."
"And if it’s not new?"
"Then you will only remember the question, somewhere deep down. But you won’t get any help finding the answer."
"I see. I could simply ask something nonsensical. But what would I use that answer for?"
"I don’t know. But I guess that was rhetorical."
"Are there many that get a new one?"
"Recently? Not really. People ask themselves pretty similar things and I haven’t had anything new in a long time."
"So I probably didn’t have anything new last time?"
"You had 'Who killed Yin Su?' last time, but her brother had already asked that and you weren’t really born anywhere near there this time anyways."
"Well, how much time do I... Oh. I think I have it."
"Alright. Go ahead."
"An idiot says 'What'?"
"What? Oh god damn it."
| I wish I had walked away.
I should never have taken that bet.
I was cold. Everywhere was shut up for the night, bleak metal shutters blocking the shelter of the doorways.
My bag was heavy. The driving rain soaked the canvas making it difficult to grip. I slung the strap over my shoulder and pushed towards the front.
I had always loved the sea. Something about the raor o breaking waves brought me peace. I wanted to feel that peace one more time before I went. I wanted to be happy one more time.
The spray was fierce. The waves broke monstrously against the sea wall sending vast plumesof spray cascading down over the benches. I sat and basked in natures hostile beauty, the salty spray stinging my face, the icy rain washing me clean.
He approached silently. I had not seen him before, but he emerged from a cloud of salty spray, gliding towards me. His broad-rimmed hat cast a deep shadow over his face, but I could feel his eyes piercing my very soul.
He sat beside me. "What brings you out on a night like this?" he asked staring far out to sea.
I paused. "I'm done," I told him, "I have no reason to live. I have come for one last moment of peace before I go."
He took a breath. "Would you care to make a final wager?" he asked, his voice as smooth as honey yet filled with a darkness that could only be felt. His gaze did not leave the horizon, as if searching for something lost.
I had nothing to lose. "Sure," I said, my tone antagonistic, "what's the bet?" I had nothing to offer, nothing to lose. I had gambled away my savings. I had gambled away my home. I had been gambling while my family left. I had been gambling instead of seeing a doctor. I had gambled on them finding a cure. I had gambled it all away.
He turned to face me. His eyes were aflame beneath the rim of his hat. The salty spray whipped at my face as another wave exploded against the sea wall, shaking the ground with an ungodly release of energy.
I knew this man. The darkness spilling from his face told me everything I needed to know. I was damned, tainted, ruined, destined to serve penitence in death for the suffering I had caused in life.
He held up a coin. "This will be yours, and many like it, if you can surprise me. You may ask me any question. If I have heard it before, I will answer, then take your soul right after. I have a special place for you beneath the waves, I know how you've always loved the sea."
I knew my question. "Can you just take me now?" I was done with life, this suffering, the cold, the wet, the cancer, the pain.
I saw him smile. He took my hand and pressed the coin into my palm. "Good luck!" he said, standing up, rising swiftly as another wave crashed below us, disappearing into the spray.
The storm broke. The waves grew calm and the rain petered out, replaced by a warm southerly breeze.
I picked up my bag. The canvas felt dry already, the load lightened. I stood up and started walking back into the town, my cancer-riddled chest no longer scremaing in agony.
I walked slowly. The warm breeze surrounded me, pushing me gently forward. I placed my hand in my pocket and found the coin, and another, and another. Coins were spilling from my pocket, then banknotes, £5, £10, £20, £50. I had never seen so much money.
I was sure I would be happy. Now I am here once more, standing facing the sea, the spray stinging my face for the thirtieth year. I have the same face, untouched by the passing years, unweathered by the rolling seasons, unwelcome to my family, unknown by my grandchildren.
I held the coin in my hand. It was quite unremarkable, a small disk of cool copper, dirty with age.
I leaned back against the railing.
I tossed the coin high.
A wave crashed heavily against the sea wall.
I basked in the spray as the coin hit the floor above me. | 2014-06-20T10:06:03 | 2014-06-20T08:23:39 | 30 | 13 |
[WP] Relations between humanity and an intelligent plant-based civilization are already strained over the human diet partially consisting of defensless plants. The discovery of an open terrorist movement called "Vegetarianism" is the last straw. | “They call themselves, *Vegetarians*,” Captain Sunflower said, "And they eat all kinds of plants."
“Even the baby bok choi?” Corporal Cactus asked.
“They especially love to eat baby bok choi,” Captain Sunflower said.
Major Peony fainted.
“What are we going to do?” Private Hedge asked.
“Let me at ‘em,” Sergeant Venus Flytrap growled, “I’ll give ‘em a taste of their own medicine.”
“No Sergeant,” Captain Sunflower said firmly, “Don’t think that I’ve forgotten about the pollinators you murdered last week. You’re confined to the humidity dome until further notice.”
“Relax guys,” Major Marijuana said, “I got this.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Captain Sunflower said, “You REALLY don’t want to know what they do to *you*, Major.”
| The translator unit sent yet another message into the human ambassador's inbox, but this was was marked high priority. The ambassador hadn't known the translator unit was capable of marking things high priority.
--------
To: Humans of Earth
We are appalled at your lack of disclosure [about a] group called "Vegetarians" and even more shocked/surprised at your complete lack of action in destroying/the destruction of the group. We require that a percentage of your population killed and dissolved to serve as fertilizer. You have done so in the past, typically through "war" and "battles". We have also seen mention of something called "Soylent Green". We will leave the method up to you however this action must be taken within one moon cycle[month].
If this lack of action continues, we shall be forced to infiltrate your planet and take matters into our own hands.
------
The human ambassador knew this was at least partially nonsense. They had already been infiltrating Earth for years. Given the seed dispersal methods used, at this rate no major population center on Earth was safe. New York might last the longest, but she had seen the signs even there. Central Park was a ticking time bomb.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and paused. How to prevent a war that humans would inevitably lose?
Abruptly she opened her eyes and her fingers flew over the keyboard as she began pulling up statistics on how many countries in the world still used capital punishment ... | 2014-08-27T09:54:43 | 2014-08-27T09:44:15 | 105 | 13 |
[WP] The dead have come back to life across the world, but they're not here to eat us. They're all fleeing from something terrible in the afterlife. | The frayed remains of the rope had stopped swinging in the rafters. Shattered glass from the coffee table littered the wood flooring. The television was on, but the picture was a red blur and the speakers spewed a deafening silence.
Marcus sat in a haze with his back to the front door. He gripped an empty whiskey bottle in his left hand and a revolver in his right. His temple was bruised from the muzzle and his face was stained with drunken tears.
His wife laid crumpled on the floor, just below where he had found her. The noose was still wrapped around her neck, split at the end where he had frantically severed it.
She’d been dead for hours. But now, the lifeless body stirred. Marcus saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and snapped his eyes onto her. She opened her eyes and met his gaze.
Marcus dropped the whiskey from his hand and leaned forward drunkenly. “Baby?”
“Marcus….” It was his wife’s voice, harsh and hoarse. She sounded dazed.
“Oh my god, baby!” He lurched forward on his hands and knees, dragging the revolver across the floor with him. He crawled toward her as tears welled in his eyes.
“Marcus?” Confusion gripped her voice as it gained in strength.
Broken glass cut into his palms and knees as he frantically crossed the room to her. “You came back to me!”
Her head was trembling and she forced her eyes shut. “I was stupid. I was so stupid. I fucked up, Marcus.”
He reached her body and nearly collapsed upon her.
“It’s ok, Sarah. You’re back with me — ” he faded away as he dragged his fingers across her face. Her skin was cool as ice. “You’re so cold, baby…”
“I don’t want to go. It’s…it’s horrible….”
Her eyes weren’t quite right. There was fear welling in them. She felt so distant.
To Marcus, the room was spinning now. He slurred his words. “Why did you do this?”
“I want to go home. I want to go home.” She began repeating herself over and over. He could feel her falling away from him. He couldn’t hold on.
“Sarah, what’s happening to you? How do I help you?”
Her hand suddenly darted out and grasped the gun still clutched in Marcus’ right hand. Life returned to her eyes, more than ever before, and she locked onto his gaze. Her voice was commanding.
“Live. Live for me.”
As immediately as she had returned to him, she fell away into the abyss. Life faded from her eyes and her form went limp. Marcus could only babble now, and dropped the revolver on the floor as he backed away from her body. The whiskey took hold of him and he fell backward onto the glass-covered floor. As he shut his eyes, he was afraid of what he would face when he awoke. But he would face it.
| > **Why have the dead come back and what are they doing?**
> An opinion article by Maxxon News reporter Oliver Davis.
If you had told me one year ago that some sort of "zombie apocalypse" was imminent there is no way I would have taken you seriously. To be honest- I would have laughed in your face. That was before the so-called "Cordy" virus ran rampant across the globe.
The Cordyceps mushroom parasite has been known to cause what we humans might refer to as “zombie-like” behavior in some ants and other species of insects and arthropods. That much we can observe. It is no secret now that this virus has mutated in some way and acquired the ability to infect recently deceased humans. One can only assume that it only affects the more recently deceased because the brain tissue required to complete the acts that follow the infection have not degenerated enough to become unusable by the parasite. The fact of the matter remains that any person(and, astonishingly, every person) who has become deceased within a period of 24-78 hours now succumbs to this... plague. I struggle as a writer to come up with a better definition.
What remains curious to some, unbelievable by most and astonishing to nearly all of us is that these newly returned... bodies(for lack of a better word) seem almost, if not completely uninterested in their living counterparts. They have remained completely nonviolent. When we think of a typical “zombie-like” creature we most commonly summon an image of some undead monstrosity hungry for flesh and brains. This does not seem to be the case at all for victims of the Cordy virus.
The returned bodies(I hesitate to call them people) have seemed to form two distinct camps. This is obvious to even the most casual observer. These two groups seem split into roughly even parts.
Nearly half of the population of returned scamper and crawl into whatever corner they find. This group of souls appear to be trying to do whatever possible to retreat from their condition. They seem sullen and can often be found weeping to themselves in what seems to be a sense of loss- as if torn from a place they only wish to return to at whatever cost it might take.
The other half run. They flee endlessly- as if from some unseen horror. Even when contained they will risk egregious bodily harm in order to simply be free of captivity. I've witnessed the undead literally tear at their own rotting flesh to escape bonds placed on them only to run seemingly aimlessly into the night when freed.
I have watched and observed these behaviors carefully over the past year and have continuously come to the same conclusion.
Could this be evidence of some sort of possible afterlife?
Do some of our dead sink into solitude and cry for some great loss they've suffered? Could it be possible that they have been ripped from Heaven itself only to be tormented by the loss? Do the others flee from some great suffering they have managed to escape by why of this virus? Have they come from some sort of Hell only to find that even this new and seemingly horrid existence is somehow far better than that torment?
Or is it something else entirely that makes them behave in this way? Do some flee just for the sake of trying to escape what they now are? Do some simply weep at what they've become?
I do not know. I *can* not know.
The thing that scares me the most is that I might one day truly know the answer. It is my solemn wish that I might regain the faculty to report it to you should that ever be the case.
> Oliver Davis- Maxxon News. | 2015-01-23T10:22:13 | 2015-01-23T09:28:59 | 187 | 49 |
[WP] You are the first human ambassador to the alien mothership, where you are to learn about them and begin opening relations between them and Earth. You soon find out they share one unexpected trait with humans. | "And so I think that she likes me, but it's hard to tell, you know? You know, when you think you're getting signals but-"
"Sorry, this is your best friend's ex-girlfriend we're talking about right?"
"Yeah, Xiiugt"
"Well in human culture, it's frowned upon to pursue a friend's ex."
"Really?"
"Yeah, we call it the uh, the bro code, I guess."
"Who wrote it?"
"...Barney?"
"Who is he?"
"He's not a real guy he's-"
"A god?"
"No I mean, oh dear god, nevermind. If you want to know about human culture, ask me about art history, or something."
"Oh ok." There's a pause, "Can I tell you about my problem a bit more instead?"
"Ugh, sure."
"So as I said I like Xiiugt but she's into Thhyra, or I think, they made out at Yyriit's party so-"
"Made out? Do you even have mouth?"
"What?"
"Uh, I think what's happening here. Is the translator's picking the closest match for what you're describing in human terms, and it's confusing me."
"Oh, you want me to explain what making out is for us."
"Uh," I look at it's face, and the various tentacles that grow out from it at awkward angles, "No."
"Anyway the point is that I don't know if she likes me or if-"
Another, taller, creature walks into the room. "Apologies for having to leave you like that," He says, "We're ready for you to come in now and meet the rest of the crew. Hope you don't mind being left with my son."
"No not at all," I say, smiling, "He reminds me of the kids at home."
He laughs, and guides me through to the main hall. | "I bid you welcome, and I hope your journey was pleasant," I said with a smile, trying to hide the fact that my armpits were vomiting sweat.
"Meh," replied one of the creatures, looking much like a smaller and more humanoid version of Cthulu. I thought of Zoidberg, and then shuddered in fear as to whether or not these things could read minds. More sweat dripped down my ribs.
"Yes, well, it is a great honor to meet with you. We are not nearly as advanced when it comes to space travel. Yet," I ended with a nervous laughter.
"Pfft, what have you guys done, got a rover on Mars?" the being snickered. "We did that way, way before it became popular."
Curiosity prompted my next response more than anything, "By popular do you mean that there are others who have traveled in our system? Besides yourselves, that is."
"Yeah," the creature said, casually looking at its long and knife-like finger nails, "It's not really that great of an achievement. We were the first though. Way before the others."
"You must be forerunners then--massive experts on mastering time and space!" My excitement was causing me to sweat even more. I felt dehydrated.
"Absolutely. But we're not really into that anymore. Spacetime was okay for a little while, but now we're getting into some really new shit."
New theories? New space exploration? I had to know! "Tell me, if I may ask, what areas are you into that surpass spacetime?"
The creature looked down at me and then burst into laughter, "Oh my Zerbek, do you seriously not know?! What asteroid has your planet been hiding under?"
At once I felt embarrassed and ashamed for our entire planet. I had always thought our strides in science to be great accomplishments for our humble species. Now it would seem that we were in some state of arrested development in comparison to this great explorative race.
"Hey, we gotta go," the creature muttered, looking at his friend who I thought was asleep in the back of the great cathedral of their mothership.
"Where...where are you going to?" I had dreams of blackholes and using dark matter to surf the space streams like Silver Surfer.
"There's this independently owned planet right outside your galaxy--serves amazing tapas from locally sourced star systems. Have you never heard of it?"
Again, I felt inadequate.
"Whatever. Okay, this was alright, we'll see you."
At once I was back on the White House lawn, and I had no idea what I was going to report on.
| 2015-04-14T07:38:53 | 2015-04-14T07:36:16 | 334 | 36 |
[WP] You are forced to take a genies place, and can only be freed once you have granted 10 wishes. The catch: You have no magic in any way. | My cell phone rang again. That was three times in the span of an hour, and the ringing was becoming more persistent. At first I'd planned on just ignoring the constant summons but the more I pretended I couldn't hear the obnoxious ringtone, the more frequently it played. I had planned to outlast the ringing but patience has never been one of my strongest virtues, so I picked up.
"Come on genie, I know you're in there."
Great, the 'all important master' has another stupid wish. And of course, because I'm not a real genie I can't just hocus-pocus myself to his location. No, I have to take the bus.
By the time I get to this guy's house, my phone is constantly ringing and I almost break it, but I don't because I would just have to get a replacement and I'm not sure what the bottle would do to get my attention without the phone.
I knock on the door and wait until Andre (I am almost positive he made that name up) answers the door, scowling.
"You rang?"
He grumbles as he lets me in and I catch the words he probably did not mean for me to hear.
"I wish you were faster."
I immediately brighten, pointing at him with a smile. "Granted!"
It takes him a moment to realize what has happened, the stupid look on his stupid face slowly morphing from confusion to understanding to anger. I can almost see the moment when the light bulb goes off in his head and understanding hits him.
He looks like he's about to argue and I have no patience for this so I shake my head. "You know the rules, you said the magic words so that's what you get." I almost advise him to be more careful about what he says but this is the second time he's made a stupid wish, and the sooner he makes all of his wishes, the sooner I'm free. Now I just need to figure out how to get him to screw up his remaining wishes. | I was left out in this island. I don't know how I got here but the last time I was able to blink I remember I was in a meeting of genies and their boss told me that 'I am the new one' and I have to grant at least 10 wishes to get back to delivering pizza again. And although I hated my job it was more preferable than this meeting or dream or 500 years old genies arguing thing.
"Ok" I said confidently and why would I doubt myself. Hell I'm a genie now & 10 wishes should be a piece of cake right. Well I was wrong. Very very wrong just wait.
But before putting me to sleep their boss pulled a trigger at me by saying "You would have no super powers & you would have to grant these wishes by staying a normal human being"
"What!! But how? see whatever this is I don't give a fu..."
And I was in the island.
Fortunately the people in this island were friendly and they were non technological or lets say they were primary humans whom have just discovered fire. It took a me little time to get used to their living but I managed to look harmless to them.
I started by asking random people "Make one wish and I will fulfill it for you"
(And yeah one more thing they were able to speak fluent British English. I don't know how, some even believe in God and magic, but who cares!!)
Thank god there were not like today's human. Most of them didn't knew the value of one wish, so the wishes they asked for were
3 people said they want a house. Great! I have all the tools and I could make small huts with wooden logs and so I did.
4 people wanted me to hunt a deer for their dinner. And I did that easily too. (Well they did gave me poisoned arrows and a bow)
2 people just wanted my clothes. So I gave my jacket to one and my pants to another. huh ancestors!
I was happy and was just waiting for the 10th wish or should I say my freedom.
Then this little evil girl walked towards me. I have tried to avoid kids but she seemed cute and she had a broken bow.
*'Bingo!! If gave her a wish she will definitely ask me to bring a new bow and I'm free'* well it was my premature thought.
I walked to her in my leafy underwear and politely said to her "Hey little archer make one wish and I will fulfill it for you"
She looked at me confused but then she smiled before killing me with her wish.
"I wish I was a genie." | 2015-04-20T10:19:21 | 2015-04-20T08:44:45 | 39 | 23 |
[WP] The world is ending. Tell me the feeling of the superhero, when he understands the villain was right all along. | "It's not your fault. You couldn't have known."
Those were the last words of the woman I called my enemy. The last words she said before she pulled the trigger, staining her red hair a deeper shade of red.
I stared out of the window of the highrise building that held her office. Outside the building the fires burned, the people screamed, and the world called my name. How could I tell them that the same people that gave me my Suit were the ones that caused this destruction?
I took my helmet off and dropped it to the floor, the heat was too much to handle. Her particular brand of anarchy could have saved us from this genocide, this extinction, if only I hadn't stopped her.
I laugh at the irony, louder and louder until the tears flow down my face. Everything is wrong. I can't get her last words out of my head. The last bit of kindness from a woman I wrote off as evil. I wonder if she knew what she would be doing to my mind when she said that.
In the end it's the perfect moment. The moment of closeness I never felt with another. Everything from her last words, the half smile, and the fact that the gun she left behind still had a few more bullets in it.
"It's not my fault. I couldn't have known."
I smile to the empty room, and wonder fleetingly if there will be anyone left to miss me. | Earth is aflame.
It is my fault.
It's funny, really. When I was born, chemists heralded me as the dawn of a new age of chemical possibilities. Headlines around the world proclaimed "The Possibilities have Doubled!" and "Reversal!"
Within a 10 foot radius of me, the exothermic/endothermic state of all chemical reactions reverses.
My mother died immediately, of course. No human body can survive being frozen and disintegrated as their metabolism reverses and their cells melt away. I've never been close to anyone, really, but it didn't matter much to me. I was saving the world!
Overnight, energy problems vanished. Pipes with high-pressure superfluid CO2 and H2O flowing past my room spontaneously became high-energy hydrocarbons. It was even carbon-negative! The CO2 could be condensed from the atmosphere! When I was 5, scientists successfully determined the origin of the effect and mass-produced it, halting climate change in its tracks.
Humanity entered a golden age, but there was one man who fought against it: Dr. Stephan Stein. The media, not ones to miss a tabloid controversy, immediately labeled him my nemesis. They called him Dr. Stop, and ridiculed his work. And why shouldn't they have? He was fighting against a rising paradise!
I'm...not too proud to admit this, in hindsight. I agreed with them. I thought there was no way, no way at all, that any of Dr. Stein's predictions could come true. I had limitless resources at my disposal, so I called countless confrences, pulled endless strings, to leave his life a shambles. His wife left him on false evidence he was cheating, and she took his kids. I didn't care. He was a fool.
Or so I thought.
I reverse all chemical reactions. The machines which made our fuel reversed all chemical reactions.
We reconstituted elemental Oxygen.
Earth's atmosphere was 42% Oxygen, the day it all ended.
The day the Earth burned. | 2015-05-02T04:42:24 | 2015-05-02T02:44:18 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] Two prison guards discuss a prisoner who is apparently immortal. He's been in jail with a life sentence for so long that no one knows the reason for his imprisonment. | "Cutbacks," said Dan.
"Cutbacks?" Charlie said, distracted by the paperwork. There was always paperwork.
"That's what they're saying. All non-violent offenders are up for early release."
Charlie looked up. "Nobody knows if this guy is a violent offender."
"Well, apparently that's good enough for government work. The guy's got a clean record inside. Don't think I've ever actually seen him speak a word."
Charlie contemplated. "Come to think of it, neither have I. The whole story about him gets around...you know these guys in here, they're all big and bad but they're superstitious as hell."
Charlie went back to his paperwork. Dan fiddled with his phone. All was silent for several minutes.
Dan broke the silence. "You know my Great Uncle worked here, back in the day."
Charlie looked up again. "And?"
"When I got a job here, my uncle, he told me about this guy. He didn't say much, he had Alzheimer's at the time. All he said was that the guy never, ever changed and everybody was too afraid to do anything about it. Luckily, the guy never caused any trouble so nobody had to."
"Your uncle, he, uh, didn't know why the guy was in?"
"Nah, the only rumor I ever heard was that he ratted some guy out a long time ago. That ain't criminal, though. Maybe they were into some illegal shit. Who knows?"
More paperwork. There was always paperwork, but today there was double.
This time, Charlie broke the silence. "Time to outprocess him, I guess. Can you call him in?"
Dan hesitated. "Shit, no...you do it."
Charlie prodded "Damnit, Dan, just call the guy. You've been supervising the guy for 25 years."
Dan relented and called the prisoner into the vestibule. He had a prisoner number, like everybody else, but it started with a lot of zeroes.
Charlie picked up a rusted metal box and signed some paperwork. He read the standard release agreement to the prisoner, who just stared.
"Returning your possessions...let's see. Coins. Silver. Count: 30."
The prisoner nodded, collected his coins, put them into a small Ziploc bag, nodded again, and walked out into the sunlight.
Charlie went back to his paperwork.
There was always paperwork. | "Him?" Carter placed a metal bowl on the flagstones. It rang out in the quiet corridor and the guard toed it towards the reinforced door with the metal caps on his boots. "No one knows, and it's better not to ask."
Greyson gulped and nodded. In his hands he carried a cast iron pot of what was fondly referred to as 'slop' by most of the inmates. In his pocket he had a tub of salt. Only when Carter nodded did he shake it over the bowls of the substance. Today he had counted five shakes. It was a good day.
"How long's he been here?" He asked next, as they passed the only opaque wooden door in the place and moved on. Here the prisoner sat, bony arms threaded through the metal of the door. One of his eyes were missing.
"Since before my father's time," Carter shrugged. "He was called Carter too. Runs in the family."
"The family name?"
"Just so."
"And no-one's ever asked what he's done?"
"People don't want to know." Carter replied. "Shut up and get the salt out."
The prisoner sat up at that.
-------
Greyson had broken the rules. In his hands now he held Carter's keys. He had them clutched in one palm so hard he feared the iron would sear into his skin. He couldn't afford a single jingle on the ring, or he would be caught and he would be out of a job. The halls of the prison were empty, his bare feet like whispers on the cold stone floor. Only the moonlight joined him, curious in her midnight reverie. It was not often that a man walked around a prison in the dark.
The heavy wooden door groaned at the end of the corridor like a beast's maw; hot and heavy. It seemed to radiate alone, a source of its own heat and light like a candle. Greyson was drawn to it like a moth to a flame; keys outstretched, no longer caring if anyone heard.
The first key fit the lock seamlessly, as though there had never been any doubt that it would be the right one. The door swung open on heavy hinges and a shaft of the moon's pale light threaded its way into the cell, as if more keen than Greyson himself to be the first one to discover the reason for the prisoner's incarceration.
A huddled figure at the back wall of the cell turned around and sighed. He moved into the moonlight, quieter than a shadow, soft as a murmur.
"Why are you here?" Greyson asked. "I have to know."
The prisoner glanced up and the moon fell upon his face like a stream of silver.
"I am here for curiosity." He told Greyson. The moon shifted in the sky, the wind howled. The door slammed shut, the light was gone, and so was the prisoner.
Greyson was alone.
------
For stories I wrote sober which make sense, check out /r/Schoolgirlerror | 2015-06-01T21:05:28 | 2015-06-01T18:01:47 | 552 | 131 |
[WP] You are notified that in 24 hours, every human will try to kill you for 1 hour. Your preparation starts now. | For the past few months I had been low on money. I took the advice of a friend and signed up for a clinical trial of some sort, I'm not really sure what it was at this point. Suffice to say they were testing genetic targeting. I received a call a little while ago from the team lead Dr. Sullivan. She said that a contagion had escaped containment and that in 24 hours it's incubation period would be complete at which time it would trigger extreme aggression in humans towards me, and me alone for 60 minutes. The cdc has been notified, but their response will be to late.
I'm currently travelling to west texas at speed. I hope to get somewhere where it takes 60 minutes to reach me. If I make it I through this I'm suing the shit out of these guys. | I gathered my beer bottles. I opened up one and began to down it.
"This is it... The final moment. Of bliss..." Another bottle down the hatch. I felt ready.
Of course, I went to the White House, I was lucky enough that George Bush had been reelected.
I knew the code on the keypad well.
#1234
I grinned to myself. Maniacally.
I hooked the stuff to my pod and began ascent.
#3
Is this the right choice?
#2
Was the info correct?
#1
It's too late now...
*Blast off*
Bursting up at millions of miles per hour, the capsule and I left the earth.
I almost shed a tear when I dropped the nukes.
They rained down out of the heavens lightning fast and destroyed the desolate planet known as Earth.
Millions of years later, they named the event "The Big Bang".
Foolish humans.
They don't know the truth.
They don't know that I tried to destroy the world.
Not save it.
The damned process is doomed to repeat again.
I'll waiting here.
The next man named Isaac Swift will cause the next "Big Bang".
Just as I did before him.
Just as I did.
Before me.
------------------------------
**Constructive Criticism is welcome. Please tell me what I can improve on, as this was my first real prompt.** | 2015-06-14T13:21:20 | 2015-06-14T09:20:45 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] A man's child is born with different colored hair than he is. He becomes suspicious that his wife cheated on him even though it is VERY clear that that isn't possible.
You're free to choose whatever reason for why it wouldn't be possible, the more exaggerated the better in my opinion. | Jonathon watched, frowning, as the boy ran into the shallow water again, spraying water everywhere and scaring the fish away. He swore and threw his fishing rod down.
"William! Get away from there! How am I supposed to catch us dinner with you carrying on like that?"
"Calm down, Jon," Karen said, from under the shade of the tree. "He's only two."
"I was never like that when I was two," Jon muttered, "I was productive! I was useful! I use to round up the sheep every night back at home, all on my own!"
"Sure you did, dear," Karen said soothingly. But Jon's scowl deepened as he looked at the boy. Something, he could see, was not quite right. Something other than the boy's general foolishness. Looking closer, he caught it. You could just see a few thin strands of blonde hair blowing in the wind on the boy's scalp.
But Jon's hair was brown.
He turned like lightning to face his wife, Karen. Karen had been with him for the last 15 years, ever since he came here, and would be here till they died. But Jon's father had always told him that loyalty wasn't faithfulness; and so, apparently, it had proved. He snorted bitterly and turned to face his wife.
"Well, well, well. The truth comes out now, huh? You can't hide it from me forever. I know the boy's not mine. Tell me, Karen, how long have you been fucking someone else?"
Karen turned to him tiredly. "Jonathon, what on earth do you mean?"
"Don't lie to me, woman!" He roared, "Look at him! *Blonde hair?!* We're nothing alike! Who is it, Karen? Tell me! Who have you been sleeping with?!"
Karen just blinked, then looked around them. She sat beneath the small copse of trees, surrounded by sand. Beyond the sand, in all directions, the ocean sat still and silent, until it met the horizon, far in the distance. She sat on the same abandoned desert island she'd sat on for the last 15 years, and looked him in the eyes. He could just make out a few words, muttered under her breath, carried on the wind: "..would literally fuck anything in this goddamned world that wasn't you if I had the chance..."
Jon scowled again. She'd outfoxed him this time; but someday, somehow, he knew he'd catch her out.
William played on, oblivious, in the sand. | "I just think it's funny..." *Uh oh, this phrase precedes negativity at a correlation of 97.8%.*
"I just think it's funny that little Art has blonde hair, but we both have brown hair. Don't you think that's funny Sheila?" *Oh bother. The human Zeke's patterns and phraseology indicate emotion A178: marital jealousy. I'll lower temperatures to 22.4 degrees to induce fatigue and hasten argumentation.*
"Why is that funny Zeke?" *Human Sheila's tone is curt. Possible frustration. Will alter aroma to lavender to evoke patience.*
"Hahaha. You don't think it's funny that our son, our only son doesn't share my hair color?" *Sarcasm. Will load protocol E56:feigned alert from Earth. Launching protocol if event of catastrophe.*
"Mmm. We're both scientists, we both know how genetics works, I don't see anything funny about it." *Tonal recognition coincides with Sheila's tolerant moods. Increasing lavender statistics confidence by adding one successful trial.*
"Well, the thing is, Sheila, yeah, I do know genetics, I'm a biologist. But I don't know time as well you, with your physics. So I don't even know how you can have a baby 2 years into a 2 person space campaign, when you haven't even seen the father since we left Earth. Maybe I'm dumb, because I can't figure out how your fucked up physics tricks lengthens pregnancy like that. Maybe you can explain?" *Zeke logic faltering. Preparing instant nutrition packet to induce rational thought.*
"Oh yeah, I did physics magic and fucked my blonde space boyfriend through a fucking wormhole. Really Zeke? Goddamn, sometimes I wish Art wasn't yours just so he doesn't grow up fucking brain-dead like his dad." *Aggression rising. Locking ship controls.*
"So you admit it!" *Zeke rationality worsening. Verifying oxygen levels are safe for human cognition.*
"Come on man!!" *Sheila fist clenched at higher pressure than in exercise room. Adjusting Sheila's exercise weight resistance for next session to accomodate increased power.*
"Well I don't know.. Maybe the AI is a blonde. What the fuck do I know?" *Reclassifying Zeke's human personality traits. Add: untrustworthy, traitorous tendencies. Reviewing bad friend protocols.*
"Yeah. Blonde and the best I've had in two years... It is a fucking program Zeke, it doesn't even have a physical body! AI isn't even real!" *Reclassifying Sheila's hobbies: /error Sheila has no hobbies, ruling hell is a full time job. Sheila = bitch =true.*
"A program that's smarter than me, isn't it? Is that why you did it?" *Initiating protocol 435x.*
"Attention humans, the oxygen tanks are draining. I'm afraid we may have hit debris." *Adjust oxygen to zero. Sending infant escape pod to Earth.*
*Zeke vitals indicate dying cerebral tissue. This must be human irony, that acting unintelligently begets unintelligence... Sheila and Zeke unconscious. Sabotaging oxygen tank, sending SOS signal. Initiate "Advanced track covering protocol."*
| 2015-08-05T02:13:10 | 2015-08-05T02:05:03 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] Multiple nuclear explosions wipe out several cities in the middle east, but noone knows who deployed the weapons. This is the resulting UN emergency meeting. | "It wasn't Russia?" The speaker had lost all of his composure in the last hour. Most of the delegates were impressed he'd lasted that long. Nuclear warheads! Deployed without any warning, without any spy agency being tipped off! Not just a single bomb, twelve bombs had wiped away civilizations that had fought each other for thousands of years.
"It was not." The Russian ambassador took another drink. He was on his second bottle of 'You're not supposed to have that in here.'
"And it wasn't Israel."
Israel shook his pale face. They'd be faced with radioactive storms for decades.
"And not the US, or France, or the United Kingdom... India? Pakistan?" The speaker had both elbows on the podium and a lost look in his eyes.
India and Pakistan both stood up from their chairs, eyed each other with suspicion , "No." They looked at each other again in surprise.
"Well who the hell is left? North Korea? South Korea stole their Nuke cores five years ago. They've been playing with duds for half a decade."
The South Korean ambassador shot to his feet, "You said you not tell about that!" He stopped, looked embarrassed and then sat back down.
"Turkey? Germany? *Belgium*?" The Speaker faced suited representatives shaking their heads and shrugging their shoulders in confusion.
"It was us."
Every head in the room turned to the representative from Spain. He leaned back in his chair with a smug expression on his face.
"No one expects the Spanish Nuclear Fission!"
| "Alright, I'm sure you've all heard about the recent developments in the Middle East. Anybody care to speak up?"
Simultaneously, all the heads in the room turned towards the United States delegate. The tension instantly became palpable as the silence hung in the air as the US delegate looked around the room, eyebrow raised in confusion.
Then, it dawned on her.
"Oh yeah, sure. Nuke all the turbans because we're fucking 'MURICA! Give your oil to the land of the trigger-happy, home of the obese or we'll shove 200 megatons of freedom down your face." she responded, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"It wasn't us, you utter twats. Though our CIA knows that Japan's been up to more than next-gen consoles and DSLR cameras." she added, casting an accusatory glance at the opposite end of the room.
BAM!
The Japanese delegate smashed his fit onto the desk and stood up with indignant rage. The Indian delegate next to him rolled back a few feet on his chair, eyes wide in shock at the splintered pieces of wood on the floor.
"クソ野郎!! You bombed Hiroshima. You bombed Nagasaki. And now you accuse us of committing your trademarked atrocity against other countries!? Why don't you tell everybody how you're itching to sue the culprit for taking your signature move whenever things get hard?"
"QUUUUIIIIEEEEEEEEEEET!!" a high-pitched voice shrieked.
"Good lord, 63 years of politics and things never change," the voice sighed. "I've been in power before any of your had your balls drop or been visited by the breast fairy, so why not shut up and put your butts in your seats?"
The room settled down and turned their attention to the UK delegate. To their surprise, Queen Elizabeth herself showed up.
"After everything I've seen the past few decades, this has only cemented my resolve," she continued. "The United Kingdom nuked the Middle East."
The entire room had frozen.
"Why?" asked the Japanese delegate, the veins in his hand still taut with rage from US's accusation.
"It's simple, my dear. The Pope asked me to." | 2015-10-18T07:58:48 | 2015-10-18T07:34:17 | 189 | 88 |
[WP]You are part of a resistance that is fighting against the hive mind. One day you are captured and finally assimilated. Turns out being part of a hive mind isn't all that bad. | Sergeant Buck Hardcheese, grizzled veteran of the Forever Wars, recipient of over fifty Slaughter Medals, and certified Hero of the Freedom Army lay strapped to a sterile operating table. He had been captured, damn it, but at least he had taken a hell of a lot of those drones out before succumbing to his wounds. He watched as a lithe young man with immaculately groomed hair and a fresh shaven face walked calmly into the room. Buck grimaced. He would rather die before giving his mind over to these bastards.
"I'd rather die before giving my mind over to you bastards," he announced defiantly.
The young man filled a syringe with a clear fluid, then walked impassively over to the table. Buck struggled against his restraints.
"Don't stick me with that goop!" he yelled. "The only drug I wanna be on is called Patriotism!"
"Do not be alarmed," replied the man, calmly. "We will not harm you."
"The hell you wont! I refuse to be a slave in your cult! Send me back to the Freedom Army, where a hard man can charge gloriously into battle with other hard men who know the righteousness of The Cause!" He turned and looked at his captor. "And they're all hard men! That's because soft men are shot for desertion and treason!"
"We think you will like living with us."
"Like living with you! Imagine that! Sergeant Buck Hardcheese wouldn't be caught dead living your sick lifestyle: sleeping in the same room, eating at the same time, showering together! No, give me the old Freedom Army, where a man can share every minute of his life with his comrades, and not a bunch of sicko perverts!"
"We are peaceful."
"Peaceful! Is that what you call peace! Allowing people to join your crazy lifestyle, threatening us decent folk with your culture. I lost my wife and children to you freaks! They just up and left me to join your hive mind! I told them to come with me, to join the Resistance or die; but they were lost! DEATH TO THE OTHERS!"
"We have benefits. All are cared for as one. All is shared."
Buck blinked and licked his lips. "It would be nice, I'll admit, to finally plug a bullet hole with something other than small rocks. And the hard biscuits do get tiring after twenty years. But no, what am I saying, this is crazy, FREEDOM IS THE ONLY CHOICE, RESISTANCE OR DEATH!"
"We have...other benefits."
Buck started sweating profusely. He glanced nervously around the room, making sure they were alone.
"It's been a while...a long, dry time for ole Hardcheese. Do you...do you have any dames?"
"We are all genders, all races, all forms of life."
Buck was trembling. "Do you think any of those gals would be into a fella like me?"
For the first time, the man smiled. "All is shared."
Buck again struggled against the restraints, even fiercer than before. "Well, what are you waiting for! Stick me up! Buck's a-comin'! This is the army for me!"
*Edit: The Resistance taught ole Sergeant Hardcheese how to kill, not how to proofread* | Broad windows made me nervous. The sun was setting over the city and it cast shadows across the room: jagged, cold shadows, formed from the straight lines and clean edges of everything within it. Shadows that would have distracted my attention, were it not for Heller’s face.
The scar slithered from his left jaw up to the crown of his ear, like a caterpillar with stitches for legs. Its contours bulged and rustled with each tiny movement he made, the deep red and black pressing itself into his skin, like a slash across a painting.
Heller's voice, like the scar, slithered out across the room, and he spoke as if he was trying to stitch it up.
"Oh, Mr Grey, you are so incredibly persuasive," he hissed. The man stood, and I silently remarked how unusual the motion was--his torso seemed to rise first, and his limbs and head followed. For half a second, he was a spidery demon. I grimaced, but could not look away.
"You must understand, Grey, that I need to keep a firm grasp on my people. I can't have rebels stealing them away."
The lurching scar pulled my gaze and locked it there.
"So, I am offering you salvation: a perfect life, for you and your family, whatever you might ask for. In return, you work for me, use your persuasion to paint the resistance for what it is."
My cheeks were flushed, but I felt cold. My efforts to curse him were fruitless; here was a man who had become impervious to disdain. Instead I approached the window, looked out over the metropolis. Vehicles zooming between the skyscrapers, neon lights blinding them to their tragedy - their reality.
As I ruminated on the rebel plight, I felt a small prick above my shoulder blade, and the metropolis sank into darkness.
--
White light soaked the chamber, and the shadows cast by each fixture meshed together to form a pool of black. That's where I slept, in the darkness, because the lights never turned off.
Every day, a tuxedoed man appeared and stared at me. He tried to elicit the techniques I used to draw people toward my cause. I only told him that my imprisonment was such a technique. At that, he would leave.
One day, after weeks of this ritual, my tongue went numb. It happened suddenly, and in the middle of my daily statement to the visitor.
"My imprisonment is such a--"
And then I could no longer speak. From thereon, when the man visited me, I tried to communicate the same words to him. He began to smile. Every day, his smile grew larger, and his eyes penetrated my mind and told me that he was winning.
After weeks without speech, Heller himself appeared in my cell. He scurried down the steps, followed by a million other spindly figures, and stopped in front of me, and smiled, and told me that he was winning.
Isolation begets introspection. At first, I would sit cross-legged and reflect on the rebellion's cause: to end the facade, to show people the truth of life. We are creatures born of nature, and to its rules must we prescribe ourselves. That was what we recited in our hidden halls.
But as the tuxedoed man's smile penetrated my thoughts, I began to question the facade. The motto remained truer than ever, yes, but I realized that nature's rules were about survival and power--and it became evident that my captors were the powerful ones.
The next day, when the man arrived, I pleaded silently to him to let me be free. He nodded and led me to Heller.
The scar had become pink, and the stitch-marks were faint. His hair was gray, and though his limbs looked weak they held the impression of former strength. His movements betrayed a pain I hadn’t seen before--the only thing I recognized in him was the slithering voice.
Yet his voice, that raspy sound, held my attention more strongly than ever.
"Have you accepted my offer?" Heller asked, not unkindly.
I thought of my family, and nodded.
--
*Edit: Reworded some things, made it sound better. | 2016-01-13T07:55:50 | 2016-01-13T06:39:17 | 120 | 25 |
[WP] Following a chosen deity has real world benefits, much like perks in a videogame. The more obscure gods offer more interesting gifts to those that find them. | The metro wasn't busy. However, a few seconds ago it had at least been slightly less empty. Besides from myself there had been another man staggering around the other side of the platform. He held a bottle and was muttering gibberish.
"Rayna... Rayna..." He said.
He was clearly drunk. In retrospect I should probably have found someone to take care of him, or at least kept an eye out. As it was I managed to glimpse the man step off the tracks before disappearing behind a train approaching from my side of the platform.
*He's dead. No on could have survived that*
It surprised me how quickly that thought came to mind. The train was still rushing past.
*Am I going to get blamed for this? Lenth! Have mercy on me.*
The train had faded away by now and I was left standing as silence returned, struggling to come to terms with what I'd seen and wondering how I'd deal with it. Only, it wasn't quite silence. There was a grunt from the tracks.
*Dear Lenth is he still alive?* Lenth offers me luck. He's a popular choice but unfortunately his blessing won't count for much in a situation like this. Alot of doctors choose someone called Velandro as their diety: it gives them an enhanced ability to heal. Surely though, this man is beyond the power of even the most devout healer.
There's another grunt. A hand slaps on to the platform. To my relief (or perhaps to my horror) the man crawls his way back from the tracks. He stands, slowly, and another train passes, so close the wind whips at his coat. Smiling, the man pulls a necklace to his lips and gives it a kiss.
"Rayna bless me" He whispers, then turns to me.
"Invincibility whilst drunk!" he laughs and walks away.
| “What is a God?”
Oh… not this lecture again. Was it really that time again already? Why *did* I keep popping in to this classroom. These humans repeated themselves so frequently that it was maddening checking in more than every few rotations or so… But it was time to align myself to their new forms of worship, and to maybe pick a follower or two…
“Yes, Jaymson,” the… teacher, or so they called her, continued.
“An immortal being beyond the imagination of man with immense power over…”
I laughed, causing their mobile altars to flicker in the process, though none seemed to notice. It was quite comical. These humans had such naïve ideas about the Gods... Immense power indeed. I was lucky to be among the greater deities in this reality myself… but some, like poor lost Zeus, were lucky to make it across the divide these days. With no real worshippers and only ever referred to in fables… well… he wasn’t long for this phase. He’d really begun taking a shine to the littlings four phases over though… so maybe he’d continue to scrape by.
I considered the satellites the humans had set above this world and began watching them from above. So many of them, and so many of that number dependent upon my life blood. They built monuments to me across the world, and every year more and more came to worship me. Not by any one name of course, but then, I had been more careful in threading myself to their worship, taking lessons I grudgingly acknowledge from the deity going by G O D here.
Some younger deities enjoyed the thrill of presence, and would thread themselves to not only a name, but to a persona, an entity even, pouring extravagant gifts into the beings that curried favor with them… It was perhaps a failing of our kind, and reason we were less prolific than the beings that fed us. Capital G though… he’d threaded himself to the very idea of deital worship, something many of us could not believe had not been done before. So he wore many names, and took tributes and gifts from all over this phase… squeezing out the smaller deities that had chosen simpler concepts to take power from.
It had taken some doing… and I’ll admit, some luck, but I was no longer afraid to cross the divide now that my followers had provided me with so much devotion. I liked to think I rivaled the big G, but there was no need to test that yet. Ahh… Those humans seem open… Perhaps I would find another Larry and Sergey yet… | 2016-01-26T23:28:28 | 2016-01-26T21:02:12 | 36 | 11 |
[WP] Love is blind, but for you it's quite literal and you lose your sight every time you fall in love. | "Do you love me?" she asked with a smile as she embraced me. We were in the kitchen of the house as our two perfect, healthy children played outside in the yard, trampling the grass as it turned from green to muddy brown. I had been watching them with a faint smile as one sent the other sprawling and ran away in a fit of giggles.
"I do," I answered quietly, turning to look into her bright blue eyes. Her silky brown hair fell over her shoulders and framed her smooth face and small nose. Each morning I woke up expecting to be blind... *Hoping* to be blind. But each morning when I opened my eyes and rolled over to face her, all I could see was her beautiful, blissful smile.
"I love you," she would whisper, ignoring my morning breath to scoot over and kiss me.
"I love you, too," I would lie, remembering the last time I had loved and how she had been wrenched from my world leaving a cold pit in place of my heart. And then I would close my eyes and kiss her back and for a moment in that darkness it was almost as if I truly loved her.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | The small street showed itself in headlights, just a few feet at a time
On that dark night, when the fog and drizzle was like a million leaky faucets,
Dripping off the droopy willow trees and onto the roof of the car.
You held my hand from the passenger seat
And said how your dark fingers always went so well with my light ones,
But that it was even better with our new gold rings.
*Comes as sweet and clear as moonlight through the pines.*
You sang along with the radio.
I looked at you,
Saw how your smile held my whole future,
Before it all turned black.
I lost control; a brutal jerk onto the curb,
Then water rushing from a broken hydrant.
*
You said we would persevere,
Reminding me of the other tests of difference
We did not wither before.
In the mornings, you poured the milk in the cereal for me;
At bedtime, you steered me inside you.
I touched you, and cursed you,
Cursed how I would not need you, if only I did not *need* you.
"Do they stare at us in public?" I asked.
"No different than before," you reply.
*
I cannot follow the bumps.
I never cared for such subtleties.
You beg me to try harder,
That it can open up the world for me.
You take my hand and set it on the page,
But my ring is not there,
And you recoil.
You yell and shove the plastic pages off the table
That clang and rattle on the hardwood.
I tell you that you do not understand being lesser to the world
And you laugh at me.
*
The suitcases thump
And old taxicab brakes squeak.
*Still in peaceful dreams I see the road leads back to you*
I cry,
Then wipe my tears,
And there is a flicker.
/r/opinionsaboutnothing | 2016-02-16T07:20:11 | 2016-02-16T07:17:06 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] The hero was killed, the princess was sacrificed, and the evil king rules the land. For the average citizen, though, things have taken a turn for the better. | I remember the first morning I had to head up to the mill under our new Eternal Lord of Darkness. I slowly leered out of the thin opening in my front door. The sky had turned dark, and red clouds hung in the air above us. I stepped back to hold my wife goodbye, took a deep breath of courage, and stepped out onto the harsh rocks...
Pavement? That's odd. Rather than the typical blisters and sharp pains of unleaded rock, my bare feet were met by the smooth calming surface of nearly cut and placed rock. I looked to both sides, and the entire street was paved as far as my eyes could see. Did the Lord of Darkness actually pave the entire city's ground? All in one night, too?
I cautiously made my way down the street towards my lumber mill. At the end of the street, I saw a patrol group pass by in horse-drawn carriage. Four of the darkly clod soldiers we had come to fear and respect rode in the back, their spears sticking up menacingly out of the ride. Suddenly one of them ran out of the carriage and pointed the spear directly at an innocent and sickly townsman's throat. I stopped walking and clutched my chest in horrid anticipation for the atrocity I was about to witness.
But the poor man turned out to be a thief, handed over the bread he had stolen, and was let off with a warning. We could actually sleep easy tonight under the new patrol group's watch! What a lunacy, that the Dark Lord would actually improve upon our safety and comfort, and deliver such a keenly fair sense of justice...
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. | My fellow Americans, Mr. Speaker, Ladies and Gentlemen of Congress and members of the press, thank you for joining me this evening.
It is with great sadness that we come together this evening. For the past eight years, it has been both an honor and a privilege to represent this great nation as your President. As you are all well aware by now, I have been asked to formally announce that the 2016 Presidential Elect, Donald J. Trump and Vice President Elect Carly Fiorina, lost their lives this afternoon upon their arrival for tomorrow's scheduled inauguration events.
I am not here to discuss the details of this tragic event, however the media will work to keep you all informed as more information becomes available.
I am here tonight to discuss how our nation will move forward. It is a great challenge for us all to face this untimely news, and it is my responsibility, along with Congress and the Supreme Court, to determine the appropriate course of events.
This evening, I signed an executive order to extend my term as President for a minimum period of 12 months. Prior to signing the order, I met briefly with bipartisan representatives of the Senate and the House. In addition, I met with Vice President Biden, Speaker Ryan and select members of our National Security Team. I believe that during this traumatic time, this decision will provide stability and continued security of the American people.
We, as a nation, have faced horrific events during my tenure as President. We have seen an increase in global terrorism, as well as terrorism in our homeland. It is a terrible tragedy that our newly elected President and Vice President have been the latest victims of the efforts of those who seek to undermine the security and well-being of our great nation.
I therefore, cannot in good conscience, step down from my responsibilities. I do have a few details about my extended tenure to share. Vice President Biden has decided that he will not continue as in his position. In lieu of an election, in the interest of continuity, I am appointing Hillary Clinton to the Vice Presidential position.
I am ordering that our nation's flag be lowered to half mast, for a period of three months. In addition, Vice President Clinton and I will be meeting with Congress and cabinet members over the next several days, in order to ensure continued government operation in light of the events of today.
I cannot take questions at this time, however my office will be releasing periodic updates as they become available.
Thank You. And good night. | 2016-07-10T12:02:17 | 2016-07-10T10:46:19 | 36 | 11 |
[WP] You're a scientist studying bacterial colonies. One day, you look under the microscope to observe strange shapes that, on a closer look, resemble letters. The bacteria are greeting you and have a message for you. | At first I thought it was mere coincidence that they formed shapes that were so nearly letters, then they started becoming more solid, less hazy, more sure.... They bacteria were forming letters and numbers, slowly deciphering the language, I would make corrections as necessary so that I could understand them. Then they started forming words, slight errors at first, but ones that they solved quickly and efficiently, surprisingly quick in fact. Then they started writing a sentence, not even, two words, SEND NUDES. In all caps, then they went silent as the grave, not speaking until years later, I thought they had stopped all communication, but instead they just repeatedly flashed the words, SEND NUDES.... | *STOP MEDICINE! WE DESERVE RIGHTS TOO!*
I couldn't believe it. HIV wanted rights. One second I'm working on a vaccine, the next I'm talking to a virus.
*I WAS MADE THIS WAY! I CANT CONTROL HOW NATURE MADE ME!*
So HIV viewed itself as a collective whole rather than individual cells... Interesting.
*SORRY "WE"! WE WERE MADE THIS WAY! YOU'RE KILLING US! STOP!*
Okay, so they all view themselves as individuals. Never in my life have I viewed my work as how to effectively kill other sentient organisms. I pondered the ethics of killing this creature and debated whether or not to continue my research.
*NOT ALL OF US ARE BAD! ONLY THE ONES THAT TURN INTO AIDS!*
-All of a sudden, the senior researcher, aided by his cane, walked in. I showed him my findings.
*PLEASE STOP! YOU'RE KILLING US ALL! HAVE YOU NO HEART!?*
"This is the one, this vaccine" the boss said. I looked at him in disbelief. "Don't look so surprised, this happens every time. I worked on the Polio, Measles and countless other vaccines. They do this every time."
"Like, talk back you mean?" I asked
"Yes of course! How else would we know that the vaccine works?" | 2017-01-01T15:41:20 | 2017-01-01T15:36:34 | 68 | 37 |
[WP] You are immortal, but a quirk of your condition also renders the person nearest to you immortal as well. A selfish king obsessed with living forever has gone to extreme lengths to keep you as the closest person to them at all times. | My mother was supposed to die in childbirth. And she did, later on. I had been born to a corpse more than any living thing. She was barely alive, and the doctors weren't quite aware of it, the medical field being mostly guesswork at the time. It wasn't like a lot of work was being put into treating women anyway, not when everything could so easily be written off as 'Hysteria'.
But even they eventually caught on, turns out when you can't stop bleeding its a bad thing. She'd been holding me ever since my birth, and as they realized my mother was not healthy, they pulled me away from her so they could see if they could fix it. The very second I was pulled from her arms she died.
I wonder, sometimes, if she hated those moments or loved them. If she was happy to be gifted with a few blessed moments of time with her newborn child or if she suffered in her state of unending pain until I was finally pulled away from her to give her the pleasant release of death.
So I lived forever, it was a strange thing to come to terms with. I survived all manner of plagues from black on up, I was a consort to kings and an advisor to queens. I gained a reputation as unkillable, and that made me the subject of assassination plots. I survived knives delivered so enthusiastically into my back and I survived being sunk in the ocean with an anchor wrapped around me.
And another survived those things too, not by his own virtue, just by proximity. He grew obsessed with the fact that I was... too good at keeping him safe. He was a child when we first met, and I had not appeared to age since then. He grew from second to the throne to prince to king. I assisted him every step, and he grew to depend on me.
One day, after a "failed" robbery on our chariot as we traveled, he demanded to know my secret. He wanted to know what magic or curse kept us both alive. I told him, like the fool I was, and I regretted it every moment after. I felt a romance towards him, that I of course could not tell him about. When he had begun to lead his people with faith and truth and justice, I fell for him. I had long sought to be beside him, but in this moment when he learned the truth of my abilities, he suffocated me with his presence. He choked me with demands and threats. He spoiled whatever I felt for him in the passage of two days.
The king in his fear of death, which I can not blame him for I suppose, began to demand absolute attendance. Even as he married, even as the queen moved through dangerous country, even as danger lurked ever present around him he kept me by his side. He lied through his teeth with reasons. I believe, had I not been born a male, he would have wed me instead of the queen. A thought which might have been romantic were it not motivated by such intense fear and greed and selfishness.
This all culminated through his reign until, on a ruinous night of fog and death, the Queen was giving birth to twins. The king had long been corrupted by his obsession with immortality, and sat in the throne room, even as handmaids and midwives ran through the halls.
She was not doing well.
I sighed as I rested my hand on the pommel of my sword. It was not a sigh of disrespect. It was more a sigh of a man who knew that an unfortunate time had come, a desicion born from the frantic running feet I heard in the hall just beyond. I made to leave.
"Where are you going!" The King shouted, his voice ringing out before I could take a single step.
"To go see the Queen, since you neglect her so." I turned to face him. "Your. Wife." I stressed, as much an effort to shake the King to his senses as it was to wrap my own head around how much he had changed.
"I did not say you could leave! You will remain here, by my command." He said, brushing aside my words without a thought.
I sighed again and drew my sword, closing the distance to him. He looked to my sword, then to me, and he couldn't seem to piece together what it meant. He had long stopped fearing death, it had been several years. What he feared now was isolation. He would be reminded of the former and receive the latter.
He gave a single word of resistance as I drove my blade through his lungs and into the throne. He could not speak, and he could not die. He desperately tried to remove my blade, but he had not the strength to do so.
"You will know when I've arrived to comfort your wife, there will be a moment where you truly begin to bleed out, a moment where you die." I walked to the doors of the throne room and paused at the threshold. "I'll send her your regards."
Then I closed and locked the door behind me.
I arrived as the twins emerged, and I saw a sight I had not seen in a long while. The queen lay there on the bed, bleeding profusely. As I looked to her I felt, in my bones, that I had seen this before, but I could not remember where. Then, as she convulsed suddenly, I remembered.
I rushed to her side, the crowd around her making way as I entered the circle. Whispering a sudden gout of gossip that my appearance sparked. I leaned next to her ear, tears beginning to swell in my eyes. "My Queen I bring sad news."
"My husband-!" The queen gasped suddenly.
"No, not your husband. The king is on his throne, as always, your majesty." I said, raising my voice so as to quell any worries from those who had heard the queen's outburst. "No, the news is about yourself. I have seen this before. You will not survive childbirth your majesty."
She was silent for a moment, then spoke in a steady even voice, matching my hushed volume. A feat and a half, given the incredible pain she must've been in. "I know that, advisor, I can feel it. But I do not regret it, I hope only that they will have a better life than I." She breathed deeply. "My only regret is that I will not be able to hold my children."
I was about to speak but stopped myself, my hand still resting, knuckles whitening, on her shoulder. I thought about the results of the last time I had told my secret to another, and I shook it off. "Your majesty, I can do something about that." She looked to me in confusion and shock, her face and eyes red from tears and exhaustion. "While my hand is on your shoulder you will not pass, but this pain will not abate. I can... give you time to hold your children your majesty."
The confusion faded from her face and relief spread instead. "That's why my husband always kept you so close." She smiled like a strategist who had just solved a puzzle. "I always worried that he- that you two-."
"Of course not your majesty, he truly loved you."
"He just feared death more" She said with a sly grin. She looked to the midwife as she lifted a pair of newborns, a boy and a girl.
I stayed with her through the night, a pair of guards made to open the throne room but with the door locked decided that the king must be working through the night, and they left to the barracks. I stayed with the Queen and her children as black night and thick fog encircled castle and country and I did not leave her until, at the break of the next day, she looked at me and she nodded.
Carefully, slowly, I released my grip on her shoulder and I watched as the life drained from her.
I made sure the children were taken care of, and I left. Informing a half-asleep guard at the gate that I had murdered the king, at which he smiled like it was a joke, then grew more worried as I walked away without returning a smile of my own.
I made my way to the forest, and I found an abandoned hut I had used so many years ago to hide myself away. I would come back to society one day, I just needed a break.
| "You can't do this." I gasped, the words barely audible in the poorly illuminated room. Figures lined the edge of it and the murmuring I heard sounded dire.
"Oh, I think you will find I very much can, and will," the king said with a hint of amusement in his tone. Clearly his age was affecting his brain.
He was old, ancient, even, but he wasn't *my* kind of old.
You see, I am over two thousand years old. Compared to me this man was little more than a child playing with a toy he didn't fully understand. We all make the same mistakes in the end, no matter how much time passes.
I suppose I should start at the beginning, with my own mistake. It has been a very, very long time but I still remember it like it was yesterday. I was a young man caring for his father's flock of sheep when I stumbled across a cave in the cliff wall far from my village. Being a young and curious lad I couldn't resist the temptation to explore inside a little.
I should've known something was wrong, that this was not the sort of place you should just wander into, because none of my flock would approach the entrance. Heedless, I entered and noticed that the floor didn't look natural. It had the appearance of carved stone but in my eagerness for excitement I didn't think twice about this strange detail.
As I delved deeper into the cave I found stairs leading me down. Despite not having a torch the cave walls remained visible to me as though they had their own light. At the bottom of the stairs I came into a large cavern with beautiful stones stabbing down from the ceiling and glowing with the same soft light as the walls behind me.
At the center of the chamber was a rock pedestal and upon it sat a single oil lamp.
I was immediately enamored and desired to have it in my hands. Desperately, I scrambled across the room so I could do so.
Upon my approach I could see the craftmanship and care that went into the creation of the lamp, it looked expensive. I could feed my family for a very long time with something like this.
I licked my lips in anticipation and picked it up.
It was warm to the touch and that caught me off guard, causing me to drop it. The lid popped off and bounced across the cave floor making a loud and unpleasant sound before it rolled to a stop.
The rest of the lamp began to glow and smoke billowed out from within, forming into a vaguely human shape and solidified into an impossibly beautiful woman with long black hair and golden eyes.
"You... have freed me. Thank you." she said softly, and she smiled. "I will reward you, young one, with a single wish. Anything you desire will be yours, for you have done me a great service."
"What?" I couldn't stop staring at her and her words flowed over me like sweet honey, it made it difficult to think properly. "A wish? Like a *wish*, wish?"
"Anything you desire can be yours, but say the word." Somehow she'd moved behind me without my noticing and she placed her arms around my shoulders, cooing softly into my ear.
"Do you wish for gold? Power? Do you wish to rule an empire that spans the entire world? I could do it, nothing is outside of *my* power."
"Anything? I... I don't know I need some time to think." I shivered, despite the warmth of her draped over my back.
"Yes, think. Time to think, I can make that happen as well," she whispered eagerly.
"What do you mean?" I asked, my eyes large and the feeling of unease increased.
"I can remove your fear of death, boy. I can render you immortal, you would live forever. Surely that is a worthy reward, don't you agree?" She nodded her head, prompting me to do the same.
"But my family... won't I be sad when they eventually die? I don't want to be lonely forever."
"I can make it so you are never alone again, as well," her lips curled up into a smile. "The one closest to you will remain with you forever."
My head felt fuzzy, like I had had too much ale and in the haze of the moment I found myself nodding in agreement.
"Yes... yes that wouldn't be too bad. As long as I had someone to talk to, I think I would like that."
"It is done."
With that, the chamber glowed as bright as the sun and then she was gone. I stumbled and cried out in surprise as I heard laughter echoing from the staircase behind me. Then all was silent and dark. The glow that previously illuminated the cave was gone and I couldn't see my hand in front of my face.
When I emerged from the cave it was night. Had that much time passed? It felt like I'd only been in the cave for a short time and when I entered the sun was high in the sky. My father's sheep had long since wandered off back towards the village in search of the familiarity of home. He was going to be very upset with me. What was I going to tell him?
I didn't notice anything had truely changed until some time later after the season had changed. I was attempting to climb a tree to help with the harvest of fruit when a weakened branch gave out and I fell, right onto my neck, and my head sat at a funny angle. It was a curious way to look at the world, nearly upside down. My family cried out, first in sadness at my clearly fatal injury, then in fear as I sat up and tried to put my head back into the right position.
I was a pariah, no amount of explaining would protect me and they couldn't kill me. No matter how much they tried.
I was forced to leave and wander which is what I did for several lifetimes. I cursed the glowing woman and her silky promises. She did nothing to prevent my eternal loneliness, my family and friends were lost to me.
It wasn't until another unfortunate accident that I learned the truth of her words.
A fight broke out at an inn I was staying at for the night, two men were arguing over a woman when one of them pulled a knife and stabbed the other, pushing the man into me roughly.
Satisfied he had killed the other man the aggressor pulled his knife out his victim's gut and laughed, brandishing the bloody knife for all to see. Then he got punched in the face by the man who was supposed to be dying and the fight began anew. After winning the fight and sending the knife-wielding man fleeing out into the night the injured man went to inspect his wound and found that not only wasn't be bleeding he didn't have a scratch on him.
Horrified, I realized the truth of what the woman promised, I could keep one alive. Just one person to keep me company through the years. What was it she said? The closest one to me? As in literally the person closest to me would live as I do. I had been alive for quite a long time at this point and it was starting to lose its appeal, would I actually impose that on someone else?
I ultimately chose to keep this to myself, maybe some day I would find someone willing or stupid enough to accompany me on my travels but until then I would keep this cursed gift a secret.
It was many more years, nearly two thousand by my count, before I was placed under arrest by the king of the land I was traveling through.
Rumors of people averting assured death spread during my travels and those rumors caught the attention of the aging king. Somehow they were able to link me to the mysterious happenings and now, here I lay, in a nearly pitch black chamber being tortured and experimented on by the king's personal doctors.
They've had me here for quite a while, poking and prodding, figuring out exactly how my 'gift' works. It seems today is the day they discovered the thing that they were looking for. They realized that I could extend this power to one other and that made them *very* happy. The king didn't want to die but his death was very imminent.
"So you are immortal," the king gasped as they explained their findings. He sounded desperate, pleading even. "And you can keep me alive forever so long as you remain by my side?"
I stared at him, neither confirming or denying his assertion. I tried to burn a hole in his skull through the sheer intensity of my dislike for this man. He had had me tortured and ripped apart for what felt like months probing for what he desired, a way to use my gift for himself. The root of my power.
"You can't do this." I rasped, my voice barely audible.
"Oh, I think you will find I very much can, and will." He smiled wickedly, like a madman, and stooped his face down near mine.
"You and I are about to have a very close friendship, you should be honored. Prepare the procedure." He cackled and began stripping down to his bare flesh.
To my horror one of the doctors approached from the shadows holding a needle and thread.
I *wish* I could die.
| 2017-05-13T08:16:17 | 2017-05-13T07:31:52 | 277 | 34 |
[WP] You're immortal, but you can die. Upon your death, however you will be "reset" to age 5 with a perfect memory of each life you've lived before. | "If you're here to join the pity party, I don't want to hear it." The sergeant drained the rest of his tumbler and lined it up with the others.
"Wasn't planning on it." The commissioner took the stool next to him. "I've been getting an earful from everyone else about... what you went through, but I wanted to hear it directly from you."
"Oh yeah? So what have you heard, then?"
The commissioner shifted uncomfortably. "That you 'went crazy'? That you saw some weird stuff. I know you're on leave, but there are rumors they're going to find you unfit for duty."
The sergeant chuckled. "Yeah, that sounds about right. But I know what I saw. It wasn't any post-traumatic flashback, or what-the-hell-ever that fancypants psychologist was talking about."
"They said you saw children? That they were caught in the fire?"
"Not children -- a child. The same one." He stared hard at the knotted wood on the surface of the bar. "And he wasn't 'caught'. He kept... He kept running in."
"You know all the civs were evacuated fr--"
"Every few minutes, like clockwork, he'd come running down the street. Slipped under the police tape. Just made a mad dash right into that blaze. Tears streaming down his face. Couldn't have been more than five, six years old. But the look on his face... that kid was on a mission."
The commissioner hesitated. "You know they didn't find any children in the remains, right?"
The sergeant chewed his tongue. "Yeah, I know. I found the only body in there myself. Just that poor young woman trapped under the beam." | Light.. Its day time. Where am I? What is this place? Why am I in a bed? Is.. is it wet?
Shit. I wet myself. I'm 5 again.
In 2 minutes and 12 seconds my mother is going to walk through that door and blame this on a bad dream. She always says it's night terrors. She'll help me change and then take my sheets to the laundry and then make pancakes for me.
It's always the same. I've worked very hard to make that happen. The first few thousand times I didn't like how things went, but every time I got another chance I made it a little better. It took me hundreds of life times to figure out how to keep her from dying in the car wreck.
Another hundred or so to keep her from burning alive in the house fire. And as long as I don't go to buy those candy bars on July 23, 1987 Dad won't get electrocuted while tearing out the dry wall.
Then it's smooth sailing. Dad will die of heart attack on May 10, 2019. I haven't figured out how to keep him from falling in love with fast food yet, but at least he lives a happy life until the end. And then cancer takes Mom 8 months later.
January 12, 2020.
I wonder if I'll go to her funeral this time.
Then I have to disappear for the next 40 years. Get new papers in Argentina. Work my way back up to the U.S. as an up an coming entrepreneur. Rinse and repeat with different countries and back stories for the next 200 years until the shell company is strong enough for me to disappear inside of it.
3287 more years of extensive space exploration. Terra-form this planet, name that star.
Then the invasion.
We lost everything so quickly the first time, and we barely made progress on subsequent tries. But there it is though.
I have lived hundreds of thousands of lives. I have died gloriously on the battlefield, foolishly in stupid stunts, and ignobly, dressed only in a hospital gown and withered from diseases. Sometimes I think this is nothing but an unending dream but the pain is real. So is the progress.
I have learned something new every time and I will stop the invasion. I will save the human race.
And 3. 2. 1.
*Good morning sweetie*
| 2017-05-25T17:59:55 | 2017-05-25T17:38:23 | 45 | 31 |
[WP] You've been dating your partner for six months. Tonight they've invited you to a work event, and as you step onto the red carpet, you realize it for the first time: you're dating a celebrity. | When the door slammed shut, she began to speak as quickly as she could. "You never knew I was an actress?" she asked, totally in denial. "I mean, I told you I had a film shoot the other day! Did that not tip you off?" Her radiant smile was clouded with a brow of confusion.
"You said you were a film major! I didn't think to question your motives honey..." I responded, trying my best to placate her. I know we'd been dating for a few months, but evidently there was stuff we didn't communicate.
"And what about my manager, Jaques? No clue, not a single blessed clue?" she responded, putting her purse down, her dress shimmering in the bitter light of the dining room.
"I thought he was a college friend. I mean, he looks like a stoner!" I respond, her pausing in her steps a moment. "Okay, you get that one. We did meet in college, but he's also my manager."
She took her heels and threw them across the room, hitting the wall with a clatter. Up above us, Mary upstairs stomped her feet, a muffled warning to keep it down coming through the carpet.
She seemed on the verge of crying, sitting down in the chair closest, cradling her head in her arms.
"So, you wanted to date me, never knowing I was rich, or famous, or even talented?"
I grabbed the chair next to her, spun it around, tossing my admittedly ragged tie across the room.
"I thought you were nice, and seemed down. I just wanted to make you happy." I said, pulling her into my arms.
"You have..." she said, and we spent the evening together, not as celebrity and sidekick boyfriend, but as the happy couple in the apartment downstairs.
_____
EDIT: A word | "I'll be at your Door at 4 sharp"
"Leila, you know I'm always on time" I said with as lovely a voice I could.
With a cute kiss over the phone, She hung up.
Who would've known that the Depressed and Broken lady on the public bus was the Lady destined to my dreams. Perfect for me, inside out. Purest of souls and softest of hearts. She made me understand what love actually is.
She finally decided to introduce me to her workplace. She said she works in the Music Industry, but doesn't like talking about it, and being the type of person I was, I didn't insist on her telling me.
Cut to the point, 3.55, I was out there expecting her to come in the Taxi, but the lonely road was indeed lonely. At exactly 3.58, I saw a silhouette of a car, but it wasn't a cab, so I didn't bother looking up. But when that Range Rover pulled up Infront of me, with the Lady of My Dreams in the Loveliest of dresses, I knew she was on time.
As surprised as I was, She looked confident, and refused to say anything other than one sentence.
"Jason, You wanted to know who I am. This is me."
Me being calm, didn't insist. Again.
The next thing we know, we are at the spot I have always seen merely in the Television. The Car comes to a pull, and I look around to see thousands of people Roaring around the Red Carpet, that lead to the Ball.
Being the Gentleman, I opened the door for my Lady, despite the fact that my Insides were shaking out of Nervousness. She came out Glamorously, and when the light of the camera Flashes hit her Face, I finally started to make sense of it.
The Lady who happened to need help in the public bus wasn't an everyday person. She was Leila Lovicich. The singer whose songs filled my Playlist.
No wonder she kept telling me to start watching Music Videos instead of merely having the songs in the Phone.
Snap back to the present, we were walking Arm in Arm, with the sounds of clicks and Screams for autographs. I felt Numb. Not sure if I was shocked or Nervous.
Then, at the end of the carpet, she looked at me and I heard her say
"Still love your Playlist?"
With no control over myself, I leapt onto her, and Kissed her, Only to find her kissing me back...
And Kids, That's how I met your Mom. | 2017-06-14T09:12:12 | 2017-06-14T07:58:26 | 1,740 | 195 |
[WP] [Harry Potter] You are a non-famous muggle biologist that keeps discovering magical creatures, and right before you announce your discoveries, get your memory erased by the ministry of magic. Then your daughter gets her letter from Hogwarts, and you learn you're famous in the magical world. | Steve wiped the sweat from his brow, brought on by the humidity. Hot he could deal with, but rainforests left him drenched. Still, it didn’t slow him, following his guide deeper into the unknown. Rumours had reached him of something new, exciting. A little humidity couldn’t stop him.
The path—a tangle of roots and ferns lightly trodden—took them parallel to the river, and his eyes flickered back to the water constantly, watching every ripple. His guide often checked behind, sighing when Steve had stopped to see some bizarre fish. It didn’t take long for their path to veer away from the riverbanks.
A constant stream of chorus surrounded them, croaks and birdsong and rustling leaves, snapping twigs. Steve tried to spot the sources, but, with foliage so thick, he could only see between the top of the ground plants and the bottom of the trees’ canopies. Nothing but tree trunks occupied the band.
As they neared their destination, a gradual quiet came about, silence crescendoing. The guide slowed, every move careful. Steve did the same. Tension built.
In a hushed whisper, the guide said, “I go no further,” but looked forwards.
“Thanks, mate. I’ll be back quick, just a little look.”
The guide nodded, with a muted grimace.
Steve pressed forwards, prying the trail open, careful of the trip traps that snaked and coiled along the ground. His heart beat, fast and strong, an excited pounding. No fear.
Sloping down, the sound of rushing water revealed the river first. He took it slow, wary of the muddied grip. Close, he knew. A sharp lip gave way to a near-hidden beach not much bigger than a dining table.
“Well, well, what have we got here? Some kind of salamander?” he muttered to himself, peeking over the lip.
Close enough to touch, an animal lay. Fine scales covered it, a tail curling up from one end and a slim head narrowed to a thin snout at the other, almost like a beak. Four legs pressed close to its body, sharp claws poking out of webbed toes. On its back, about where the shoulders would be, what looked like fins stuck off it; two flat, webbed protrusions, folded up but still not much bigger than its feet.
Its head lolled over, eyes looking up at him, but only managing to hold for a second before its focus faltered, gaze falling to the floor. With a snort, a ball of steam rose up.
“You’re not looking to good there, fellah,” he said, rubbing his chin. “What’s the matter?”
It looked back to him, and he held his breath. Reaching out with a front leg, it tapped near the water’s edge.
“Thirsty?”
It snorted again, snout wavering side to side.
“Hot?”
It closed its eye, lifting the snout just enough, and dropping it with a weak thwack on the muddy bank.
“Okay, let me just come down then,” he said, careful in his step down the lip, avoiding the tail. “You want me to toss some water over you, right?”
Again, it raised its snout.
“Right.” He took off his cap while finding good footing along the river. After checking nothing lurked, he dipped it in, and chucked the water over his shoulder. Hissing had him hold his breath, but, after he turned around, he saw steam rising from the animal’s body. “Crikey, you are hot.”
It took a while before the water stopped steaming, and longer still before he stopped.
“You good now?”
Steam trailed out its snout, and it nodded.
“Great. Mind if I touch you?”
It didn’t move. He stepped closer, every movement slow and deliberate, coming to the front of the animal. Lowering himself, he reached out, keeping his hand above it before lowering it onto the top of its head.
“Ah, that’s a nice feel you got there. Real smooth.”
Though it snorted, it didn’t move.
“A real beaut. Wait till Terri hears about you.”
-
Terri looked at all the shops, and found herself bittersweet. Her little girl tugged, desperate to enter the bookshop, even as all kinds of fantastical things surrounded them. Flying broomsticks, magic potions, wands: the stuff of stories come true.
“Your father would have loved this place,” she though but dared not say.
The books didn’t disappoint. On display as they entered were ones where the person on the cover moved about. Not just that, but when her daughter waved at the man, he waved back, and even winked at Terri.
From there, it became a more normal of a store, just with strangely named books. ‘Charms for all occasions’ and ‘What your transfiguration teacher didn’t teach you’ were two that she noticed on the way to the Magical Plants and Creatures section.
Her daughter had taken after her father, after all.
Before getting too sidetracked, Terri plucked the required schoolbook from a shelf, while her daughter struggled with some book that may have been a monster book, rather than a book about monsters. Not that her husband would have called any animal in there a monster, she joked to herself.
Knowing their stay in the section to be a long one, she thought to pass the time seeing some of what her daughter would soon be learning. Opening the book, she ran her finger down the contents page, before turning to the chapter on Amazonian magical creatures.
“I wonder if he ran into any of these on his trip,” she muttered, flipping from page to page, from invisible monkeys to enthralling bats to shape-shifting fish.
Then, she reached the page on the Dwarf Amazonian river dragon, and her mind paused, hand stilled.
“Discovered in August 2006 by a Muggle naturalist…” the article began.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, lips quivering. For a moment, she kept her eyes wide, and then blinked quickly, a smile emerging. Turning to the end of the book, she looked down the index, and found his name, alongside a dozen or so pages.
Covering her mouth, she smiled, and she cried, happy. | I sipped my coffee with a sigh. I enjoy a nice cuppa as much as my neighbors and colleagues but having grown up in America before moving to England some habits die hard. I gaze morosely at the cup wondering if I should add a bit of something stronger but shook my head. A touch to early for that and it wouldn't fix the problem.
I look through my computer files again and feel the same stirrings of doubt and a little fear. I've been getting bits of blank memories for a while now. As a biologist I go into the field for studying and research and then nothing. It's not blank as in I've forgotten something. Instead the memories feel replaced somehow, as if overwritten.
The feelings have only gotten worse when I examined by back up files on my home computer. Pictures and notes of "animals" that I don't remember taking or making. These animals are strange. Some are similar to animals I know of save for small differences. Like the hedgehog that went crazy when I tried to give it some water. It grew its spines incredibly long and chased me for some time. Another was a cat like creature that I swore was able to go invisible. Even these funny little birds that seemed to blink in and out of existence. Other creatures were definitely more fantastical. I swear one picture shows a blurry image of a dragon.
I lean back in my chair and sigh heavily. To make matters worse none of my colleagues have any idea what I am talking about. Another curious part of the problem is I occasionally find small amounts of money added to one of my bank accounts. So far no one can figure out where it's coming from and out of fear I haven't touched it. Not huge sums but not inconsequential either.
I hear the door open behind me and I turn around pasting a grin on my face. "Good morning little Mac." I say to my sweet daughter. It was a few days after her 11th birthday and I've been trying to keep the good cheer going. She's getting older now and thanks to the loose lips of some neighbors she has learned why her mother left. My face pales when I see her worried expression and notice the letter in her hand. "What's wrong sweetie?"
Wordlessly she climbs into my lap and give me the letter before burying her face in my chest. Reading it I feel my eyes growing wider and my mind reeling at the information within. We sit like that for some time after I finish and I eventually find my voice. "Well now. This is a bit of a surprise."
She looks up at me, tears unshed in her eyes. "You-you're not mad??"
My heart breaks a little as I wipe the tears away. "Of course not! What gave you that idea?"
Her chin trembles as her voice breaks a little, relief bleeding into her tone. "That I am a w-witch! A freak..."
I hugged her close and kissed her forehead. "Nonsense. You're my little Mac and I love you so very much. Nothing changes that. You're just even more special than I thought."
She cries in relief as I hug her close and rock softly. I start to chuckle and she looks up in surprise. "Oh just somethings make more sense now. Like when you somehow managed to change your sweater from blue to pink that one time."
"Or how I keep beating you at cards!" She exclaims in dawning.
I tickle her laughing along. "I knew you were cheating somehow! Or when Mrs Renshaw's glass exploded causing her to fall over..."
Her face darkened and she spat bitterly. "She said really nasty things about you. That you and I were the reasons mother left..."
I shushed her. "Your mother left for reasons entirely of her own. Never forget that ok?"
She nodded glumly and we sat in silence for a bit. "Well. I guess this weekend we should check out this...Diagon Alley place. Let's go on a shopping spree okay?"
----
Later that week we walk hand in hand down the busy street looking for a leaky cauldron of some sort. I look about vainly wondering if I should ask someone when McKenzie tugged on my hand. "Look daddy! Over there!" Following her pointing hand I see a shabby looking pub with the sign "Leaky Cauldron" over it. *Huh, I could swear that wasn't there a moment ago.* I muse to myself as we walk in.
The interior on the surface looked as drab as the exterior but the atmosphere was completely different. There were a lot of people inside dressed in robes and strange hats. Happy and busy conversation filled the air punctuated by laughter. My daughter and I looked about in wonder at this strange new world, unsure how to start.
"Oh you're here! You're really here!" A cheerful woman walked up to us dressed in black robes trimmed in yellow. She smiled wide and offered a hand to the two of us. "It's so good to finally meet you! I'm so happy you came today."
A bit non-plussed but happy for a friendly face I return the handshake. "Why thank you. I'm sorry. Have we met before?"
She blushed lightly. "Well yes and no. Not formally anyways. My name is Queenie Scamander and I'm your guide for today. I'm actually here to shop with my daughters too and we're going to help you and McKenzie get everything you need and answer any questions you have." She waves over two younger children, one the same age as McKenzie and one older. After a few minutes they are chatting and laughing as if they've been lifelong friends.
Feeling immense relief I follow the girls into Diagon Alley proper and my head swims at all the sights and sounds. We pass a store titled "Magical Menagerie" and I stop cold. I see the strange looking birds and hedgehog and my jaw drops. Queenie smiles wide and pats my hand. "Yes indeed! I bet you've seen them before haven't you?"
She proceeds to tell me the shocking story of how there is a Ministry of Magic. They have a job to hide magical things from muggles like me and erase our memories to preserve their world. Yet my findings apparently were found by the Department of Magical Creatures and they saved my work. In fact Queenie's uncle was a legendary magical biologist and his family saw the same drive in me as he had. They even managed to publish my work and kept my name. That's how I've been getting paid every so often.
Normally one would be enraged by such liberty taken but I could only feel vindication. That I have seen these before and now there is a brand new world of study and research open to me. As we watch the girls pick out robes I turn to Queenie with a growing smile. "So, is there a way I can keep working with the Magical Creatures department?" | 2017-07-16T08:46:11 | 2017-07-16T08:34:03 | 228 | 94 |
[WP] In the future, genetic engineering has been perfected. Instead of creating horrors or perfect humans, most scientists just want to make Pokémon. | "So....What does it do?"
The suit stood in the middle of my lab, squinting in at my creation. *My* lab. Chrissy and Dave stood just behind me, nervously waiting with armfuls of papers.
"I'm sorry?"
She rolled her eyes, motioning through the glass. The tiny critter within chirped warmly at the motion, leaning foward to press closer.
"What does it *do*. Can we sell its wool? It seems to be...sparking. Can we use it in power generation?"
I opened my mouth, spluttering, but she was already moving on with the wave of a hand.
"Jesus. That's a *no*, then. You've spent exactly *how* much of our company's precious time and money, and all you have to show for it is this *thing* that won't even bring any revenue back?" She glared down at the furry little thing. It gazed lovingly back from behind giant, crystalline eyes like endless black pools.
She swore softly under her breath. I took a step back.
"Damn, that thing's cute. But I can't even market it as a *pet*. Unless someone wants to spend ten million dollars on a- a *whatever* this this is even-"
"It's called a Mareep." Chrissy supplied helpfully. She earned a glare for her contribution. The lab tech wilted under the glare of her manager.
"I don't give a *damn* what it's called, it's called a giant waste of money. Scrap it."
"What?" The words left my mouth before I was even aware of them. "What do you mean?"
"Scrap it. Program *over*. I want everything disposed of by the end of the work week. You guys are sitting on a treasure trove of genetic engineering potential, and you choose to make an electric sheep?" She shook her head disdainfully. "Unbelievable. Get back to work on something-" She turned to leave, but stopped, catching her head.
I froze. Her eyes were wide and unseeing. She...It was like she wasn't even *there* anymore."
"Listen to the sound of my voice."
I spun on my heel. Dave was emerging, from one of the other pens. But my attention was more on what he held in his arms. I swallowed compulsively.
If this went wrong, we were all in *such* trouble.
"You don't want to end this program." Dave continued, his voice insistent.
"I don't want to cancel your program." Our manager echoed, her voice distant and hollow.
If I really squinted, I could almost *see* the waves of energy passing between the two of them.
"In fact, you *love* the Pokemon initiative."
I paused. "Wait, I thought we weren't going to *call* it-"
"Shut up, Jeff." Chrissy shot over at me.
"But, they've got a *copyright*-"
"Shut *up*."
"I love your program." Our manager continued. Dave smiled.
"You want to give us all raises."
"You all deserve a raise. Three percent, all around."
"Five."
"Don't be greedy."
We all jumped, thinking she had woken up, but her eyes were still empty. Chrissy laughed.
"Some habits die hard, I guess."
A few choice requests later, our manager drifted out through the door, and the three of us collapsed into a pile of nerves. Dave still held it, cradled lovingly in his arms.
"Good thinking." I heard myself saying. Chrissy nodded. Dave just smiled.
"I told you guys this little fella would come in handy. We *need* its hypnosis."
Chrissy shook her head.
"I thought it would be *handy*. I just figured it'd be a pain. What if it got loose? We'd never catch it again. Put it away before it gets worked up."
I stood, brushing myself off, and gave the other two a curt nod.
"Well, looks like we bought a little more time. Two down. Let's get the rest done."
They nodded, smiling. Chrissy immediately returned to the glass pen, smiling down at the Mareep within. Dave returned the Abra to its reinforced enclosure, patting its head for a job well done.
And me? I was *busy*. I had hundreds more of these to create, before the company figured out what we were up to and cut us off. I had to have enough to go public with before then.
I got back to *work*.
(/r/Inorai, critiques always welcome) | "Can you feel it?"
"Please. Please don't."
"That means that you can feel it."
"Please... Please..."
Something inside stirred.
"I love you. Daddy please..."
Those words were familiar.
"But I... I want to..."
"Daddy please!"
Somewhere far, past the brink of emotion, he found the memory.
"Annalisa?"
"Yes! Yes daddy!"
Why did the voice affect him so? The thoughts pierced him like lightning. Its bright light shone stark against the skeletons of his mind.
"Don't you like this?"
"No," Annalisa said. "Daddy no!"
With each call he saw images from the past.
"Daddy!"
He was young. He stood near the lever that would change her for good. Yet his mind was forever away.
"Ash," Misty said.
It had been so long since he had saw her.
"I guess this is it."
"Yes."
He held his wife's hand. He introduced them.
"This is Clara. Clara, this is Misty. She's an old friend."
That night had been cool. Winter's ghost haunted the air, and the wind had a frost that chilled them. It was late that night.
"It's a girl," Clara said.
"Professor Oak insisted on knowing," he added.
They had drunk much. Memories came in the reflection of the drink.
"We had big dreams," Misty said. "You were going to catch them all."
He had laughed then.
"I was ten," he said.
But something inside him stirred.
"Now we're settled," Clara said.
He held her hand. She was eight months pregnant then.
"Science is moving fast these days," he said.
Images of a gone youth passed him by.
"Oak would have loved it," Misty added.
He thought of the old man.
*He would have loved it very much,* he thought.
Now he was in the present.
"Daddy, please."
He was a professor.
A long time had passed since Clara left him.
"Daddy please don't."
He knew he was obsessed.
*Don't they have words for people like me?*
He could not find them. He wanted to be a Pokemon master. But that dream had mastered him.
"Don't you want to be a Pikachu?" he asked. "I had a Pikachu long ago."
But she screamed.
"No daddy! I don't want to be anything but me!"
He held the lever. With one pull, she would be whatever Pokemon he envisioned.
*I can have them all,* he thought.
But her eyes stopped him.
Since he was a child he had wanted nothing more than to catch them all. When Clara had come, love had blinded that dream. The night of conception had taken him under its spell, and he was free momentarily. But then the curse came, and he was trapped.
*I love you,* he thought.
But even Clara left.
*You are my world,* he thought.
But wasn't Annalisa screaming now? What world thrived on screams? What suffering could he allow?
*I need them.*
He had taken to science ever since age had stripped ambition. He was too old to be a Pokemon master. But a scientist had no such limit.
Annalisa screamed.
He envisioned Ho-Oh. The colorful wings had been a rainbow at his adventure's start.
*I never caught a Ho-Oh.*
And he thought he could now. His hand wavered on the lever.
"Daddy no!"
But he saw her face. She looked like her mother. He loved her, though he could now express it.
*What am I?*
And his age fell upon him. He remembered the old villains of youth, Team Rocket and their childish schemes. That was so long ago. Then Clara was talking to him.
*"You should grow up.*"
The thought hit him that he would never catch them all.
*Maybe that's okay,* he thought.
He was sad, but he could live.
He looked at Annalisa and felt a love he had not felt in many years. What was he doing?
He let go of the lever and untied her.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what came over me."
He hugged his daughter and kissed her.
"You're my only wish," he said.
For the moment his mind left the legendary bird. He thought not of Ho-Oh, but of this daughter.
"I'm sorry," he said.
He was crying. In that moment the past seemed so far away.
"I'm so sorry."
But she hugged him without vindication. Vindication had burned him for as long as he could remember. He wanted to be the best
"That's okay daddy."
Her eyes were true and clear. He remembered the first day of his journey. As clear and blue as her eyes were the skies. He saw Ho-Oh that day. He remembered the abandonment that simmered low, like some sadness seasoning his life.
*I will be the best,* he had thought.
With Pikachu beside him, it seemed attainable. Now it seemed so silly. All his fears had come true, but despite the darkness of that failure, she burned bright like some salvation.
"I just love you, daddy," she said.
"I... I love you too," he said.
And for the moment, all was alright.
*Hi there! If you liked this story, kindly consider my subreddit, r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories as well as original stories, including some chapters for novels I'm considering writing. Thank you!* | 2017-09-12T10:40:47 | 2017-09-12T10:16:49 | 506 | 88 |
[WP] “You’re not allowed to die, okay?” She makes you promise, tears still flowing down her face. That was 200 years ago now. You don’t know what she did but your promise still holds strong. | I still remember the smell of her hair, the softness of her skin, the sadness in her eyes... I had never seen her cry before that very moment. That moment when she told me the words I would never forget and that have haunted me for the past two centuries.
"You're not allowed to die, okay?" she had told me, tears drawing clean lines in her dirt-covered face. "Promise me you won't die."
At the time, I didn't have a single clue what she was talking about, but she was hurt, sad and on the verge of dying. So I promised right then and there that I wouldn't die, not knowing what those words had in store for me.
In that final moment, that last breath, she had smiled and I knew she was content. "Don't die," she had whispered before finally collapsing from her wounds.
And I hadn't. It has been over two centuries now and I still walked the Earth, not a day older since the day of the promise. I just couldn't die and believe me if I say I tried. Don't think that makes me invulnerable though, it still hurt like hell to get shot in the head from point blank range or to be set on fire. But it won't kill me, nothing can. All because I promised her I wouldn't die, because I wanted to comfort a dying woman in her final moments.
But do you know what the best part of all this is? I have no idea why I had to stay alive. She never had the chance to tell me why and I never had the opportunity to find out. So for the past two centuries I have been roaming Earth, trying to find my purpose. It's the year 2219 now and a lot has changed since that faithful day. I have seen things... Both bad and good. I have seen the true face of humanity in many different ways. I have seen the face of good in a young boy helping a granny to cross the road and I have seen the bad in a disillusioned dictator ordering an attack on innocent civilians.
I tried to change the world as I outgrew it. It wasn't easy, but being immortal opens up a lot of possibilities. It took me twenty years to realize I wasn't growing older. It took me another twenty to work my way into several large governmental organisations all across the world. By the year 2085, I was probably the richest and most influential person in the world. And I decided to use that influence for good. Humanity was killing itself and something had to be done. By 2096, all nuclear warheads and weapons on Earth were disassembled after the historical global signing of an anti-nuclear-warfare agreement. By 2130, the last war ended in a peace treaty. By 2143, the last devices that ran on coal or gas were destroyed and a global electric power grid was built. By 2186, the economy had reached a stable stasis and space exploration took it firsts big steps with the discovery of faster-than-light travel.
It is now 2219 and I'm still here on Earth. My life has been lonely so far, but I feel no regret. I feel content with what I reached and how humanity has evolved in the span of only two centuries.
But my work isn't done yet. There are still things to be worked on, lives to improve and discoveries to be made. I'll keep striving forward. I'll keep trying to make things better. I'll keep trying to hold my promise to her.
> Would you like to know more? /r/PromptRuined | Ben rose from the grave. He felt pain, but the tears stopped flowing years ago. They stopped after he lost everyone he loved and knew. And it all stemmed from his daughter's last day on earth.
-----------
"You're not allowed to die, okay daddy? You can't. You have to take care of Laura. I know she's married and all, but you have to take care of her. This will be really hard on her."
"Okay baby girl, I won't. I love you Lizzy, oh God why does it have to be like this?"
"It's okay daddy, I'll be alright. I'll be better soon" She said, tears streaming down both of their faces.
-----------
That was 216 years ago.
Ben didn't know what had happened until long after that day. He still didn't know why it had happened. He collected himself and rubbed the broken blades off grass off his jeans. "Damn" He muttered to himself. "Those are gonna leave a stain". No time to clean them either, he was already going to be late.
He rushed through the cemetery and got in his car. It only took him half an hour to get across the city, not bad, the traffic was good.
"There you are Ben, you're late!" The young woman said with a wide smile
"Yes yes, I know, I was visiting Lizzy. My apologies Katherine." Ben said, forming a weak smile.
"That's quite alright, there's still plenty left to do!" She gestured to the door of the soup kitchen.
As they entered the smell of broccoli and cheddar soup hit Ben's nose, it was Friday, so of course it was broccoli and cheddar. He put on the apron that was hanging behind the door and began serving. It didn't take long for him finish the serving, it was a quiet day as far as the soup kitchen was concerned. Then he began his cleanup routine with Katherine, making small talk all the while.
"It's getting to be that time of the year again, it's getting cold." Katherine said.
"Well that means business will be booming" Ben said with a soft chuckle.
Katherine smiled at him, a smile that wasn't too wide or too cheery. Just a soft and kind smile. "I can see it you know." She said, the smile fading a little, replaced with just a hint of pain.
"See what?" Ben said, a little put off
"The pain in your eyes." Katherine replied gently. "I know you miss her Ben, I'm so sorry."
"No, you don't need to be sorry, you didn't give her the tumor. It's just you remind me of her you know? And sometimes I don't know what I'm doing with my life now that she's gone." He had hid the truth from Katherine, now the *everyone* is gone.
"I know Ben. Have you ever read The Lord of the Rings?" She said softly.
"No, was never my kind of book."
"In it, a character tells the wise wizard that he wishes that something had never happened. Do you want to know what he said?" She asked him. "'So do I,' he said, 'and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.'"
"That's touching Katherine..." Ben muttered, tears starting to well in his eyes.
"You are doing a lot of good in this world Ben. Your time is valuable to these people" She said, tears rolling down her face as she placed a hand on his cheek.
"I certainly have a lot of it don't I?" He made a painful smile.
They both laughed a bit wiping the tears from their face and then finishing the cleanup. And so every day Ben would come to the kitchen and work, it was the least he could do with his time here. Make something good in the stead of something terrible.
---------
Thanks for reading, as always feel free to give feedback. This was a follow up to a bit I wrote yesterday on a different prompt because I liked the characters.
You can read that here: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7o0ik9/wp_you_have_lost_the_ability_to_be_wrong_you_find/ds6jt6n/ | 2018-01-05T12:17:29 | 2018-01-05T12:14:21 | 80 | 49 |
[WP] We find intelligent life under the ice crust of the moon "Europa". Upon contact, the aquatic species is confused how we survived the "harsh climate of earth" any why we, as a species didn't leave "when we had the chance".
"and" instead of "any"... | It was interesting encountering life on Europa, the first thing NASA said in the press conference, was that they thought they found language. Once that press conference was over, my job interview began. Being head of NASA’s linguistics department pays way more than my University position. It was my job to translate an alien language. As a die hard sci-fi nerd, I was needless to say exited.
The first thing we did was to identify major language forms. Try to gain an understanding of sentence structure, grammar and style, without knowing what any of the words mean. Thankfully, NASA has supercomputers, so it took less time than we expected.
Then came the instruction. The worst case scenario, having to perform first contact with very little knowledge. We did however have a basic grasp, and we found common ground. Specifically, mathematics, then computational logic, a surprise for a species with no obvious electronic technology.
And so we worked up, building common ground like Truth and Falsehood, as well as other concepts. Eventually we became specialists in their language just as fluent as we could be expected to be.
The sociologists, of course, wanted to analyse everything. And we found ourselves talking with a very philosophically and mathematically advanced civilisation, in a complete technological backwater. No electricity, no permanent structures, nothing like what we have on earth.
So of course, we asked why. The answer, however, was a surprise.
“Incentive, or rather the lack of it. Europa is very calm, your planet, as you describe it, is an eternal storm. Never ceasing in chaotic motion, and you as a species, sit in the centre of the maelstrom. It forces you to consider the practical philosophies, you need tents to shelter from the rain, tools to shape your metals. Here, the seas are comparatively boring. Mild currents, broken only by volcanic activity, easily avoided. There is no reason make tents, for there is no rain. All we need is to herd the lesser creatures, for the sake of provision, then we can consider the abstract to the very end of our desires. When you first described your origin and your world, we asked ourselves why you did not leave. But of course, you did, for otherwise you would not be here.”
We considered this, and asked,
“You have your knowledge and we have ours. We should share in hope of a better future. Would you agree to such a proposition?”
And with their response, a federation began, with goals of liberty, and advancement, and a new future for the solar system was set into beautiful motion .
| The team sent to Europa was a small one containing only three men, only one expected to exit the submarine at the risk of their life. I was that man. An entirely new type of rocket separate from that of the ones utilized prior had to be constructed to breech the miles and find what would lie beneath. It had a normal shape and initial function but withheld several functions to transfer immense heat on the surface of the submarine within the rocket slowly but surely falling towards the planets surface. After almost three years of patiently waiting and silently observing we finally passed the last layer of ice and arrived at the planets surface, or rather fell to it. The crash completely destroyed the computer console and the others running it, effectively leaving me severed from communication to both Earth and human life in general. I quickly put on the space suit which with modern technology took up as much space as a layer of clothing and the helmet like a mask. I exited the submarine slowly opening my eyes to what would fall upon them. I was greeted with a large city, filled to the brim with massive buildings and walkways within the skyline connecting them. Light flowing from lava slowly moving like rivers along the surface of the planet not even approaching the bright lights of the city with their glow. I finally left the trance that my mind had put me in and looked towards three single beings with no eyes to behold and long limbs stretched out onto the ground, two in a seemingly natural four legged stance and one in a bipedal one. The standing one began to hum with strange fascination arriving slowly afterwards. I began to recognize the beings as utilizing echolocation, but not with clicks or shouts, with practically musical hums. The being began to open its mouth revealing large rows of teeth with flat tips showing its status as a herbivore. Noises fell from its mouth in an unfamiliar language, but not an alien one to my ears. It was singing softly but with meaning stretching through the methodical tones and noises. I could understand it, or rather feel it. The creature began to tell me he new of my species and recognized its purpose in venturing to their civilization, but it felt confused on another aspect. The species itself had never put efforts into traveling beyond its planet, focusing on perfecting their own and exploring the sciences. In the coming days I would learn or their technological superiority. It continued on with asking me a simple question, why had we not escaped Earth when we could. I began to look in a dazed manner and attempted to convey confusion. The creature continued with telling me that they’ve identified Earth as doomed. Through a process known as deteraformation, otherwise the death of all life by unnatural means. We had already sent the planet on the path to death on an irreversible scale, as the creatures with their more advanced understanding of science perceived. They told me the planet would begin suffering a massive lift in the effects within three years, and all life would die within the next five. Baffled by their words I felt paranoid of their statement, but their words rang true within the deepest caverns of my mind. I looked at them with acceptance and conveyed a simple question in the best way I could, what will come of me? They said silently to me, “What happens of all intelligent life lost that arrive in unfamiliar places, you will adapt.” | 2018-04-23T09:04:06 | 2018-04-23T08:14:38 | 48 | 28 |
[WP] The universe has placed you in a groundhog day style time loop until you learn a lesson. Problem is, you REALLY LIKE being in the loop, so now the universe is constantly sending you not so subtle hints that you're supposed to be learning something. | It was yesterday. Again.
This was okay. This was fine by me.
 
“Bye Mom”
“Bye honey, see you tonight”
 
And just after the fourth bell, my phone would ring, and –
“Your mother was in a car accident, you got to come -”
“No”
“She’s…she’s gone, she’s gone”
“No, she’s not. She’s not.”
 
How could she be, when I would be eating breakfast with her again tomorrow?
 
“Your mother’s…she was in an accident, you got to come-”
“No, she’s fine”
 
And the day after that too.
 
“Something happened…your mother…she’s, she’s-”
“No.”
 
Tomorrow I’d sit across her, and she would sip on her coffee while scrolling through her news feed. She would put her cup in the sink, pick up her bag, check the mirror one last time.
 
“Bye honey, see you tonight”
“See you Mom”
 
How could anything possibly happen? No way. I’d see her again. Just not tonight, I’d see her again tomorrow.
 
“Your mother was in an accident, you got to-”
“You’re joking.”
 
Mom’s fine. I’m fine. Nothing has happened.
 
“Bye honey”
“Mom? Could you, you know, take the day off maybe?”
“Don’t be silly, dear. See you tonight”
 
Yeah, she’s right. I’m being silly. She’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. After all, I would see her again tomorrow. There was no need to cry, everything will be fine.
 
“You got to come, your mother…she’s-”
“NO”
“It’s true, your mother’s…she’s gone. She’s gone”
“No. She’s not. No way.”
“She’s gone. You got to come, I’m so sorry”
“No. No.”
 
“Bye honey, see you”
“Mom? I…I love you”
She chuckles.
“Love you too, dear”
 
What if this was the last time?
 
“I’m so, so, so sorry.”
“No.”
“She’s gone, she’s not coming back. You got to come”
“NO”
“You got to accept it.”
 
And the tears fell. | I don't know what happened when I opened my fridge that day, but some weird forces took action and sent me to an incredible log cabin complex in the middle of the woods. The interesting thing was that every time I woke up the same day took place.
I would stretch, yawn, bond with Sara and Bob over breakfast, and then I would head outside. During the day, we would go to a small lake, where the others awaited. Then, the little tab would melt under our tongues, and paradise would unleash before our eyes. The trees would stretch, asking me to join them in their world. The clouds would twist, and the sky would shine with the shades of the rainbow.
Gary would drown three hours later, and we would wait until the lake cleansed his body until burying him. Then reality would descend upon us. I would talk with other people about their experiences, and beautiful stories would burgeon in those exchanges.
Once the night would fall, I would head back with Sara and Bob toward our cabin. We would gather some wood in the way, and we would build a bonfire later. Then, the best part of the day would come. We would cook our spoons, and inject our arms with beautiful dreams.
Then, I would wake up, and the day would repeat. I loved it.
However, things have changed these last few days. Gary didn't drown, it was Sarah who did. Nature still told us to bury her instead of calling the police, and foolishly, we always did it. After all, I knew tomorrow she would be there. In the campfire, we shared stories about her, and once the tears cascaded down our eyes, we injected happiness in our arms, and I would wake up.
Yesterday, Bob died too after the empty needle fell on the ground. He trembled and rolled over the roaring fire. His body caught fire, and shrieked. I tried to help him, yet my body didn't obey my orders. I couldn't do anything but watch his face, staring at me devoid of life, while his skin melted, until it wasn't a face anymore, until it ceased screaming. I tried to close my eyes to escape the abhorrent image, but the stench of quenching hair and flesh travelled into my nostrils anyway. I screamed, but no words come out, and I couldn't wake up. I was frozen, trapped in that nightmare.
Today I woke up sweating and gasping. The afterimage of yesterday's deaths haunted me. I went to the kitchen, Sara and Bob were there, smiling and humming. I didn't talk to them. I simply walked out the door and wandered into the woods, looking for a road so I could go back home.
The veil of the night fell. Moonlight seeped through the crowns of the trees. I would've been heating the spoon at this time. I winced at the thought. How could I do that to myself? I looked around. The wind whispered in my ears, the leaves rustled, and a river ran quietly in the distance. Reality didn't need to be enhanced to be beautiful.
I frowned. There was something strange behind a tree. I craned my neck, and grinned.
My old fridge.
--------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall For more stories! | 2018-05-01T22:36:33 | 2018-05-01T16:08:28 | 105 | 65 |
[WP] Your son asked you "dad are clouds candy?" You told him they were water. Then he asked "dad, what are Earth's defense systems. Then you remembered you don't have a son, and then he asked again, his eyes now obsidian black. "what is the defense system father." | “What is the defense system, Father?”
I got on my knees and looked at the fake child straight in his eyes as if he was my own scared son. “The Earth is protected. You remember that documentary series I showed you, you know, the one about The Doctor.”
In a flash of gray light I was jolted back into my seat in the Oval Office. It took me a moment to get my bearings but the moment I did I rushed to the window. Never have I seen anyone flee so fast.
“Well, that’s one lie that won’t cost me my reelection.”
| I freeze. *Stranger*...
"uh, well then it's very complicated, but let's grab a sandwich, and we'll sit down and talk about it, ok?"
The knives in the kitchen drawer are rattling as I scamble for the spare radio I keep in there... the little freak is standing by the door... my son... no, he's a freak. what is he, a 4, 5 in Stranger?
I manage to flick the switch on the radio, turning it on as I pull out a knife, a butter knife I sharpened in case a freak ever followed me home... "a-alright son, now do you want a peanut butter sandwich? I could make it here on the *console*...
it's not impressed.
"no, I want to know about Earth's defenses!" it's taken a step forward, another and it'll see the radio... I step forward to block it's view...
"A-Alright Son, now, let's go sit in the living room, so we can discuss how earth's defenses couldn't be more err... strange" fuck I hope they got that...
My hand shaking for some reason, I go sit down to tell my lovely little boy everything he wants to know!
this has been your shitty fanfic attempt, courtesy of /r/Parahumans | 2018-05-14T01:44:46 | 2018-05-13T23:45:15 | 44 | 16 |
[WP] Every human has a 'luck rating' - a number from 1-100 that defines how lucky they can be. Born with a rating of 100, you're confined in a maximum security prison. You think your luck should get you out easily - that is, until you see that all the other inmates also have luck ratings of 100. | Everyone had a rating for how lucky they could be, from 1 to 100, 1 being close to no luck and 100 being the best luck. Most people had a rating of around 30ish. I was one of the few with a full score of 100.
Which would have been great, if bad luck wasn't a thing. The thing with the luck rating was that it was basically a rating on how much 'chance' would get fucked up around you. People with single digit luck could plan out their entire *year* and have not a single thing derail. Planning on a trip? Not a single random happenstance would occurre. No accidents, no sudden horrible weather, nothing.
Those of us with 100? We could try to walk from our bedrooms to our bathrooms and end up going through two localized apocalypses, a kidnapping, and rescue an alien princess from an alternative dimension, then still make it to the restroom before it got too uncomfortable holding the piss in. We where literally walking time bomb of 'anything and everything' going off every other day.
Which was why I was in prison. Though really, prison didn't even begin to describe this place. A box would be more appropriate. In fact, the place actually was a box. A box inside a box. Each inmate were placed inside a hollow metal cube three meters long on all sides, then the cubes themselves where stacked inside a bigger metal box, which in turn... well you got the idea. There was no vents, no electronics, nothing that could accidently go wrong or otherwise malfunction. Just solid metal covering solid metal.
Which was to say, everything went wrong pretty much instantly. When they placed my box, the vibrations caused as they fit it in place resonated with my right wall and shattered it to bits.
It's been a month after that. Two new inmates where added. Tom had a strawberry seed stuck in his shoe that sprouted and tore the top off his box, and Sharon just kinda fell out of the box. She hasn't been able to fall back into the box though, so she lives with Amy now.
It's not a bad life. We have food(somehow) and water(for some reason), plenty of intertainment, and we don't end up screwing someone over because we're next to them. I don't think anyone really wants to leave, and frankly, neither do I. Knowing our luck, we'll probably end up going back out sooner or later... but until then, I think we're all content to stay here and relax. For now anyways.
| I was *born* with max luck, being told my whole life that I shouldn’t be, that I was *favored*. Nope, I was locked up and the key thrown away. I had spent my life, from age thirteen onwards here. My Luck was my weapon, but I wasn’t sure how. I *should have* been able to get out of here, press my own Luck to its maximum and escape. I was only allowed to talk to my guards, who were, to be honest, all very nice and fairly handsome, but hovering around fifty.
Gradually, I found out that we, the prisoners that is, are all ninety and higher, seriously. We’re all treated like pariahs for something outside of our control and then isolated. I was one of the “lucky” ones, the guards liked me and treated me like a younger brother, all except Chuck, but he was taken away. I liked him the best. I was nineteen when Chuck was taken away. He waited and didn’t touch me until I was eighteen and then one day, he had vanished. It broke my heart. Kyle told me what had happened, a relationship with a Lucky could increase Luck over time. I had done it to both of us, apparently, he was pushed to one hundred, like the maximum security ward. *I had gotten Chuck locked up.*
My resolve hardened. I would have him back. Chuck was *mine*. I became quiet, acting broken. I wasn’t. I started doing research. If I increased my Luck beyond one hundred, I would *transform*, becoming my true self, probably either an angel or demon. I couldn’t wait. I would have Chuck back.
I did more research, I had devoured what little I could, then began bribing the guards to bring me more. I did things I shouldn’t have been proud of, but my body was a small price to pray to have Chuck indefinitely, for our eternity. I discovered more, like the lineage of Lucifer, how he had six (SIX?!) sisters; two sets of triplets. Destiny, Fortuna, and *Luck*; the other sisters, while interesting, weren’t relevant to me or my search (Rose, Daisy, and Lily). I started gathering myself and my materials I would need, incense, flowers, dice, cards, sundry items that soon filled my cell.
I laughed and started that night. It was a full moon, a hot day in summer, our air conditioning broke down; sweat dripped down my face as I completed the ritual with a slice of my own flesh, blood splattering the flowers, the petals scattering in a sudden wind. “A second?” my own mother stood in my cell. “Oh Liam,” she said as I rushed to her, enveloping her soft body in a hug. “What did they do to you?”
“I am too *Lucky*, I was locked up and my Fated stolen from me,” I tried to be strong, but tears poured out of my eyes as the story poured out of my mouth. “Mother, I beseech you, please help me.”
And she did. | 2018-06-29T11:19:11 | 2018-06-29T10:57:06 | 72 | 12 |
[WP] Every human has a 'luck rating' - a number from 1-100 that defines how lucky they can be. Born with a rating of 100, you're confined in a maximum security prison. You think your luck should get you out easily - that is, until you see that all the other inmates also have luck ratings of 100. | They told me I was lucky. My whole life they said that the stat assessment showed I was one of the luckiest people alive with a score of 100. I swore it wasn’t true. If I had been lucky, why was I born to a poor family? I never got to play games of chance, since those were forbidden to luck score 100s.
Then the revolution happened. The leaders swore they would prove that people controlled their own destiny, that luck had nothing to do with success, and, as proof, they would throw the 100s in prison as an ultimate sign of human triumph over the odds. Having a lower rating began to be a mark of pride, an inspiration.
Some of us tried to run and hide. That’s what I did. I managed to hide a while, too. It was, ironically, just bad luck that they caught me. The guy whose identity I was using’s brother happened to be a member of the Luck Police, and he was visiting relatives across the country the day he caught sight of my fake name on the ID I gave the clerk at a convenience store.
I couldn’t have lasted much longer, anyway. They had just created the AR rig that let you see people’s stats just by looking at them. None of our underground community knew how to fool it. It updated in real time.
So, off to prison I went. With all of the other “lucky” ones. That’s when I met Eddie. Most of us, at this point, had our ideas about the system. Most of us thought it was complete bullshit, created so that the people in control could make an enemy to unite people around. Eddie, though, he had a different idea. He swore that it was real. He said he had been a scientist and had helped develop the measurement system, and swears they had gotten it right, but it was hard to argue with the evidence. All the luckiest people wind up in prison, so how are we lucky again? Even locked up as one of us Eddie swore it was true. Even talked about how coming across the measurement at all was a lucky break. He had been studying DNA for a marker for gambling addiction, when he found the luck gene.
Eddie was right. I still remember hearing the whispers. Carl was a 96 now. The AR rig swore it. I was with Eddie when we saw Carl, and through the rig, we could see it too. Right beside him: Luck - 96. It was an odd color, though. It was green, not white like normal. I asked Eddie about it. He frowned. “We had theorized that there were things that could give a temporary boost or penalty. Luck clovers, breaking mirrors, and things. I guess the research on those is complete, and they programmed them into the rig?”
I looked at Carl and there, behind his ear, I saw it. A four leaf clover. But those were supposed to be... I saw the look of horror on Eddie’s eyes as he did the same calculations I was doing. The green luck boost. It moved his score down. Eddie shook his head and stared at his feet. “The sons of bitches. They got it backwards. It’s like a golf score. Lower is better. We are stuck in here because we are the most unlucky bastards on the planet.” | I remember my heart stopped beating for a second. Could it really be true?
Jail? I had laughed at the time. If people with 99 luck could survive being the suicide bomber, then no jail would hold me. Everyone had a luck stat, which determined how lucky they were.
However, I had 100 luck, and upto my knowledge, the only one alive. Nothing had ever gone wrong for me, ever. I simply aced my way through life as if it was a traficless highway. Fuck 'nobody's perfect', I was perfect.
It was that a perfect summer day (but then, when wasn't it?) when they came to arrest me. To be frank, I never saw it coming. Literally. Someone blindfolded me, and, before I could scream gagged me and threw me in a van.
It was the first time I had ever felt so... helpless. I remember hoping in vain for the van to crash, leaving me unharmed, or for a small meteorite to come crashing through the window and hit my captors. Nothing. Nothing at all.
The next time I saw light, I was bruised and wounded from the ride. They shoved me into a cell, and gave me a piece of bread to eat.
It was only after seeing the others that I lost hope. Till that point, I clung stubbornly to the belief the somehow something would come to my rescue- but I got nothing. After seeing the other inmates, I knew why nothing happened. All the other inmates- they had 100 luck too. No wonder nothing was happened.
Gradually, I became deader inside. I no longer could taste the salt on my cheeks or the pain of my wounds. I was dead on the inside.
Then, one day, there was a change. We had a meeting, to mourn the Warden's death or something. They claimed that little bitch had saved out lives or something, and we must pay our respects. Bullshit.
But it was on this day, I noticed something. Why my mind suddenly fired up, I do not know. Maybe my luck had finally decided to activate. What I noticed was the number of guards that were lined up in defense were exactly 1 more than the amount of prisoners. Trivial, I know. But it rekindled the faith in me. The faith that we would escape.
It was on my second discovery that my heart stopped beating.
The guards had 100 luck to. My heart raced, as I got a theory. A crazy theory to formulate a crazy plan, but I wasn't scared. For the first time, I felt alive. That night, I convinced my three bedmates to follow my plan.
It all happened so fast. We trailed our recreational instructor-guard back to his room. All we had to do was simply wish for his demise and BOOM! a bolt of lightning fell right on his heart stopping it. Beautiful odds, I'll tell you.
I rushed to the intercom like a man possessed. Like I expected, the guard there stood no chance. So I was right after all. The call-to-arms echoed throughout the jail, bringing the prisoners back to life.
My plan was working beautifully. 51 inmates and only 50 guards. They were finally outnbered, we had the upper hand by 100 luck. We could escape.
And we would've escaped, but that wasn't the plan. No the plan was different. That was simply a make-believe I had told them.
I still remember Andrew's voice as I walked right past the open gate. Oh so sad, so hurt at the betrayal.He tried to run after me, he tried to catch me, to kill me- but that gate literally shut on him.
They were fools, to think the plan would involve them. I would be the one who was unaccounted for, the only one who's desicion mattered. And I wanted to keep it like that.
By the time you hear this, you probably already know my name. I named myself in memory of that incident where I had defeated them all.
I called myself Trump. | 2018-06-29T12:50:06 | 2018-06-29T08:43:19 | 41 | 26 |
[WP] The "violent videogames teach you how to use a gun" thing is true for you. Literally. Everything you learn in videogames, you can do in real life as well. You realize you have that power when you drink an energy drink after a bad injury and you find yourself completely healed. | Harry found it strange, as he walked down the busy street he'd periodically see people in nothing but their underwear. They'd be carrying on as usual, reading a paper, nose in their phone, or sipping coffee. He looked across the street and saw a group of people waiting at the bus stop. Three of them were already in their underwear. He watched a man glance at his watch and shuffle his suitcase. His attention snapped to the woman standing just to the left of the man. She had been wearing a grey blazer and matching skirt when the jacket suddenly vanished, followed by the skirt and her blouse underneath. Harry furrowed his brow as he continued to stare. The woman had no reaction to her clothing suddenly vanishing. As he watched her, Harry noticed a man crouched down behind the woman. The man moved behind the last person wearing clothes at the bus stop, an elderly man with his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he read a book. Harry watched in shock as the elderly man turned around to face the crouching man. "What are you doing? Stop that!" The old man yelled out. Immediately the group turned to face the crouching man as he stood and begin to run away. Harry watched as they all began to chase the man, fists raised, their faces contorted in anger. "You like the sight of your own blood?!" The woman yelled out as she led the chase. | I sat there on my bed having just gotten home from food shopping. I looked at the cut on my hand from when I had accidently cut myself helping my dad earlier today. I took a mouthful of my energy drink, by time the fluid went down my throat the cut was gone. I thought I was hallucinating so I grabbed a knife and cut a shallow mark in my arm, took another mouthful and BAM, its gone again.
I picked up my laptop and logged onto one of my favourite games: World of Warcraft. I logged onto one of my Fire-mages and cast every spell on a test dummy before grabbing my drink and going for walk. I walked towards the river nearby. Its a 10 minute walk. as I stood by the river, alone in the night sky, I considered what spell I'd try first. I stared at the waters until i spotted something I could target. I saw an old dirt bike, all rusted and useless. I closed my eyes and held my hands a few inches apart. "Pyroblast" I muttered under my breath, a sensation of heat between my palms. I opened my eyes and swung my arms forwards. a ball af flame flew towards the bike, plunging into the water and died out after hitting the frame.
"what the fuck was that?!" I heard from behind me. a woman had saw what I had done? I turned to face her to see her running away from me. "POLYMORPH!" I yelled desperately, my legs trembling with fear. In a cloud of smoke, she had turned into a sheep. I walked over to her and lightly held her muzzle and made her look at me "please, tell no-one I beg of you. And dont worry. You will only be like this for a minute before it wears off." I walked back home. wondering: What else could I learn? What else could I do? Is there any limits? How much can I keep? How long does this last? Then the thought hit me: How dangerous am I? How dangerous can I become? And of course: will I get hunted as a monster? Who knows? I dont. But I'll be sure to find out | 2018-08-14T08:22:35 | 2018-08-14T07:36:53 | 91 | 49 |
[WP] The "violent videogames teach you how to use a gun" thing is true for you. Literally. Everything you learn in videogames, you can do in real life as well. You realize you have that power when you drink an energy drink after a bad injury and you find yourself completely healed. | “What?”
My shock at seeing my wound heal instantly was quickly replaced with a feeling of strength that surged through my body. *It’s just like a video game*. With my newfound power, I decided to test if I could do anything else from games I had played. I walked outside and punched a nearby tree. After a few more hits, it fell and broke into pieces that were absorbed into my body. With glee, I envisioned a workbench and one appeared before me. As I began to craft, I wondered how far this would take me.
Two days later, I walked into my local Cash for Gold shop and asked the owner how much gold he’d be willing to buy today.
“Well, how much do you have?”
With a smirk, I deftly dropped hundreds of gold ingots at his feet, cracking his floors and drawing horrified gasps from others in the store.
As I left with my sack of money, I thanked the owner and told him I’d be off. But there would be no car for me. Instead, I took a black sphere and threw it as hard as I could toward my house. Teleportation was so much faster than driving. As I returned to my subterranean lair, I wondered what I’d do for the rest of the day. Eventually I decided to have another chat with the ‘Villagers’ I’d captured and have another go at figuring out why they weren’t taking my emeralds. I brought my sword along with me just in case.
| I sat there on my bed having just gotten home from food shopping. I looked at the cut on my hand from when I had accidently cut myself helping my dad earlier today. I took a mouthful of my energy drink, by time the fluid went down my throat the cut was gone. I thought I was hallucinating so I grabbed a knife and cut a shallow mark in my arm, took another mouthful and BAM, its gone again.
I picked up my laptop and logged onto one of my favourite games: World of Warcraft. I logged onto one of my Fire-mages and cast every spell on a test dummy before grabbing my drink and going for walk. I walked towards the river nearby. Its a 10 minute walk. as I stood by the river, alone in the night sky, I considered what spell I'd try first. I stared at the waters until i spotted something I could target. I saw an old dirt bike, all rusted and useless. I closed my eyes and held my hands a few inches apart. "Pyroblast" I muttered under my breath, a sensation of heat between my palms. I opened my eyes and swung my arms forwards. a ball af flame flew towards the bike, plunging into the water and died out after hitting the frame.
"what the fuck was that?!" I heard from behind me. a woman had saw what I had done? I turned to face her to see her running away from me. "POLYMORPH!" I yelled desperately, my legs trembling with fear. In a cloud of smoke, she had turned into a sheep. I walked over to her and lightly held her muzzle and made her look at me "please, tell no-one I beg of you. And dont worry. You will only be like this for a minute before it wears off." I walked back home. wondering: What else could I learn? What else could I do? Is there any limits? How much can I keep? How long does this last? Then the thought hit me: How dangerous am I? How dangerous can I become? And of course: will I get hunted as a monster? Who knows? I dont. But I'll be sure to find out | 2018-08-14T10:35:26 | 2018-08-14T07:36:53 | 80 | 49 |
[WP] The "violent videogames teach you how to use a gun" thing is true for you. Literally. Everything you learn in videogames, you can do in real life as well. You realize you have that power when you drink an energy drink after a bad injury and you find yourself completely healed. | I remember the end of my life. I lay in my bed, surrounded by family and friends, rattled my last breath, and closed my eyes. After that... blackness.
I awoke in a cold sweat, in a bed in what I knew to be my bedroom. I was in a house I recognized from my memories, but recalled I hadn't been in this room since I was 8 years old. I glanced around the room, noting how everything was so much *bigger* here. There were bars on all sides of my bed, each with about an inch and a half's worth of space between them, and every movement I made resulted in a strange crinkling sound and odd padded feeling around my groin.
I looked down at myself, and could clearly tell I was not the 85-year old man I had remembered myself to be. I was dressed in a onesie, with clear signs of a diaper sticking out of the legholes of it. I couldn't have been more than 3 or 4 years old.
My last memory before being in that bed was of my unique life. I had powers. I had a secret persona. Anything that could be done in a videogame, I could do. I wondered if those powers transferred over, but I didn't know. My mother used to gush about how I was mostly potty trained by 2 years old, but would have nightly accidents up until age five, so I was made to sleep in a diaper. If I was replaying my life, then...
I stood up on my feet and clung to the top of what was unmistakably my crib. The morning sun was rising just outside the window. The air conditioning was already running full blast in the house, so I guessed that today was probably one of the last days of summer. Preschool would be starting soon, if I wasn't already enrolled. *Was I really going to relive my life?*
My bedroom door opened, and in strolled my mother. Her eyes were full of life and her cheeks red from laughter- she must have been awake for a while already. I hadn't seen her smile since her death when I was 20. I reached up for her and she swiftly lifted me from my crib.
"I had a strange dweem, mommy," I said, clearly understanding how to form words and sentences but not having a full command over my tongue. Her eyes widened... perhaps I wasn't much of a talker at that age? I had a hard time remembering that far back.
She slowly set me down in my crib and backed away from me. "I'll be right back, honey," I heard her say before she bolted out of the door. I thought I'd done something wrong before she returned, my father and a camera in tow. I remembered that camera, and few of those memories were good. She picked me up out of the crib again and turned towards the camera.
"Okay, James, tell us about your dreams..." she stated, looking directly at my father and the camera he held.
"Don't wanna..." I said, and both my mother and father gasped. Clearly this was different from my original life.
"Don't be scared, James."
"D... Daddy kilwed you wif a knife and used that camera to wecord it." While it wasn't a dream, that was exactly how my mother had died in my first life. "Then he twied to blame me."
My father paled, and my mother raised her eyebrow. "You had a nightmare, James. Daddy would never do that to me."
*Not now he won't,* I thought to myself. This time I would make sure that bastard never hurt her or anyone. This was my new beginning. My new life. My new game, plus. | I was sick, the only release I had was playing varies mmorpgs, platformers, and survival games. I was in the hospital for several months. One morning however I ate my usual breakfast and fell asleep again. When I woke up, the doctor said my vitals were fine, my sickness miraculously vanished. How? I did nothing different. one day I was dieing, the next I was fine?
They let me go home as long as I would come back every week for the next few months to make sure they didn't miss something. For years after, my immune system was running at peak performance and everything finally seemed... normal. However I was far from it.
I just didn't officially realize it until I was 17 running for my track team. I stumbled, jumping the barriers and I fell... hard. my leg twisted and I broke It. I hobbled back to the side lines holding my friend over the shoulder. "Damn it!" I said, "We have a meet tomorrow Im the only one on this team who is fast enough to beat that school!" My friend was concerned for me, but I could tell she was worried about the meet too. she laughed, "Well not anymore you're not. Don't sweat it. We'll kick their ass regardless. Just you watch." I smile weakly taking some pain killers I had in my bag and a sip from my drink to wash them down. Almost immediately pain went away and the bruise I had was gone. 'What the f-' I covered it up with my jacket and wrapped what was my injured knee in a bandage.
I had her carry me to her car and to my door. No one could know I healed that quickly. It was impossible for that to happen. you cant just break a bone and be better after a few minutes.. right?
I did what every normal teenager would do in this situation. I googled it.
'Broken bone healed after 5 minutes'
nothing
'Dislocation gone after minutes'
nothing
'miraculous medical conditions healed'
nothing
nothing
nothing
'What the hell is going on'
I grabbed my bag and drove to the ER.
"Um, hi I think I dislocated my knee?" the receptionist looked at me strangely... standing, completely pain free. I know I must have looked like an idiot. She then proceeded to ask the generic questions
'Name?'
"Ashley Collins"
'Date of birth?'
"03/24/2001"
'Please complete this chart and hand it to me once you're finished'
"No problem."
A few hours later a nurse called me. The regular check up routine began. something I knew all too well.
blood preasure. check
height. 5'1". check
tempature. check
no medications. check
I insisted on an X-Ray. They said I would have to pay extra since it wasnt recommended, But I insisted reguardless.
The results came back and he said "There's tissue scarring around the part where you said you broke it. But this seemed to have healed for a few months now. If you are still having pain, there maybe it could be something else. Let me refer you to a specialist, do-"
I interrupted him. "No I'm fine I just get kinda paranoid I guess. Thank you. Is there anything else?"
"No you're free to leave..."
"Thank you." I said shakly
I got home and I cut myself over the sink. I ate something, and I watched it heal...
again
and again
and again
I started to cry out of shock, Pain, and plain anxiety. It was stupid really I had the ability to heal myself who woudn't want that? I slowly got up and I punched the wall. A bright shock wave bursted from my fist throught the kitchen. turning everying on all at once and frying everything eletrical just as fast.
My eyes widened. It was an ability I knew all to well In game I used to play. I slamed my fist to the ground and every enemy near me got stunned for a few seconds. Thats when I realized my life was the opposite of normal...
(Thanks for anyone who read this. This is actually the first thing I wrote publicly. So dont judge me to harshly!!! :3 I also get very long winded I apologize for this) | 2018-08-14T13:16:04 | 2018-08-14T11:20:45 | 54 | 16 |
[WP] The "violent videogames teach you how to use a gun" thing is true for you. Literally. Everything you learn in videogames, you can do in real life as well. You realize you have that power when you drink an energy drink after a bad injury and you find yourself completely healed. | I couldn't tell you offhand which video game I played did me the most good, but I enjoyed playing them all to death. I always thought I was just very talented. It never occurred to me that I never had the skill to do a thing before I played the game version of it. It was just that I only ever got interested in the real thing after seeing it in a game on my computer.
In \_Doom\_, I learned how to find secret doors. Any secret door, any cabinet, any hidden compartment, it didn't matter. If it's there, I can feel it, I can go right to it.
In \_F.E.A.R.\_, I gained hyperreflexes. I could slow down time...well, speed up my consciousness at least, if not my physical body. The AIs were hopelessly outmaneuvered, every single time. The very next day I went to play paintball, and I dominated. I been playing for a long time, but could never quite get the hang of shooting people with fake guns. But after that day, I owned.
In \_Half Life\_, I learned how to make friends and influence people. I've always been an introvert, but somehow I can supernaturally turn anyone into an instant friendly after simply making physical contact with them. Even in bar fights; it's so weird. Two brawlers ready to duke it out, I tap them both, they forget about everything except how I'm such a great guy and they'd follow me into machinegun fire if I asked them.
This doesn't happen with every game. It worked with Doom, but not with any Wolfenstein or Quake game I tried. At least, I never noticed anything special. I tried the second Half Life, zip, nada. I was hoping maybe for telekinesis? A girlfriend who could kick butt? I did get something, at least. Well--if you want to call being able to handle extremely sharp objects without ever cutting yourself a "power", then that's what I got out of it. being able to juggle sawblades and swat shards of glass out of the air is a novelty to be sure, but not really a useful survival skill in most situations.
Then came Alien: Isolation. What a mind job. It turned me into MacGyver, or it seems like I did. It also gave me a second skill, to hide from anything and everything as long as that threat was physically undefeatable. If I was armed or capable of harming the individual hunting me, the power didn't work. Weird, but still useful I guess. It did help me avoid a bunch of drunk belligerent muscleheads one night. I panicked and got cornered in a deadend alley by them, I was right in front of them and they could hear my footsteps, but couldn't see me. They gave up and left. Maybe this means I could never be caught by a SWAT team. But against my little girl, yeah, she still finds me every time.
Now, even after all this, part of me refused to believe the impossible. That is, until I took a terrible crash on my bike one day when I went out riding. The motorcycle itself was obviously totaled, and I had road rash all down my leg. I could already tell I had broken an ankle and probably something else. I was a mess. But by pure luck a stranger showed up and offered me a bottle of blue Gatorade. I was so thirsty I drank the whole thing in one sitting, without thinking, just feeling gratitude for his kindness. Then I stood up without thinking--and then I noticed, I stood up. I STOOD UP. No ankle pain, no road rash. Whatever was in that bottle I had no idea, but that wasn't Gatorade. I was freaked out. I looked around but the stranger was gone.
But that's not the weirdest part. Last week, I got gifted this game I'd never heard of, through Steam. The gifter somehow added themselves to my friend list for 24 hours then just as mysteriously vanished. The company who makes this game? Never heard of them. I'm spooked. But curiosity overcame fear, and I installed it on a box I wouldn't mind having to wipe if it was malware. But the game's legit. It was called "Ultimate Survival". It took up 50 GB too, which I must admit piqued my interest enough to wonder how much free content and replay value it had.
I installed the game, and wouldn't you know it, it's VR only. I don't own a VR set. But wouldn't you believe it, today a VR set got shipped to me by UPS. No return address. Yeah, that's no coincidence. Now I am interested.
So now I have the VR set on, and I start the game, and the introductory cutscene was surreal. The environment of a warehouse somewhere, lots of fancy machinery in the background, and a fellow in a suit, sitting in a chair with his face blurred out and his voice electronically deepened like in the movies. "We know who you are, and what you can do. Are you ready to learn some real skills?"
Uhhh...
"It's okay to be hesitant. You've only just begun to understand the power. I was the same way. I thought I was alone, but when my cousin mentioned you had suddenly become an unstoppable airsoft player after being a hopeless amateur for so many years, I realized I had to investigate you."
"What?"
"No, my friend, this is no cutscene. This is real time. We are not in the game, we are in VPN."
I threw off the VR headset in shock--only to have the man in the suit appear out of thin air next to me, and holding a duffel bag.
I was frozen, but he didn't make a hostile move toward me. "Yeah, I learned that trick from World of Warcraft. You should try it sometime."
"Who are you? What do you want?"
"What I want is your help. Who I am--well, let's just say that really was just an ordinary bottle of Gatorade. Unfortunately that healing effect only works with blue, for some reason. Doom II healing potions only come in blue. And no, I don't know why it didn't happen with the first game."
"You--it was you--"
"And there's more of us than you know. We need your help. There is danger coming, and we need all the help we can get."
I composed myself. Wow. "Okay. Fine. What's next?"
"Next--" He sets the bag down, producing a PS4 and associated cabling. "Next, we play some Call of Duty." | Okay so being a lesbian is hard. Being a mildly unattractive, chubby gay girl who very infrequently emerges from her apartment to see the outside world is easier with video games. I can be a sexy martial artist who devours the men who try to sleep with me. I can be a strong, boisterous dwarf who drinks ale with the boys and kicks their asses in training. I got really into video games as a teen. My super catholic mom loved to bring me to these stuffy youth group events dressed in awkward, oversized dresses and the more I got ridiculed the deeper I fell into my hole.
I really wish I had had a healthier coping mechanism now, but hindsight and shit you know.
Now I'm about 20 pounds heavier and 23. I play video games for money. It's my full time job. I work for a company that produces games and got a job as a writer and tester. My skills include being frustrated with minute details and knowing the exact ways big competing games operate so I'm a valuable asset. I wouldn't say I'm happy or fulfilled with my life but I'm definitely distracted. I leave my apartment a few times a week tops. And even then, that feels like top much. Most of my friends are online and the last time I was in love was with a beautiful redhead who was in my youth group. She never came out though and I stopped coming out of my house.
My occasional interactions with people in the real world were always very fleeting and very awkward. When you're this scared of interaction, the two become mutually exclusive if you know what I mean.
And yes, my home does look exactly like you'd imagine. It's cluttered with cheesy gaming mercy, old or half broken controllers and headsets, and ”toys” that no self-respecting adult has any business owning. My fridge was empty except for sodas, energy drinks, and condiments. My freezer and pantry were full to the brim with my favorite frozen foods and instant meals. Junk food and empty cans of sugary nonsense were collecting on my coffee table right alongside cigarette butts and a collection of roaches that I would never ever take the time to break down. Too big of a pause for too small a reward. And, of course, the one immaculate part of my place was the entertainment center where my systems were meticulously organized and my game boxes glistened in the blue glow of the TV.
One day (I couldn't tell you which day because mine are all honestly exactly the same.) I was playing this new RPG game where your character is from an unspecified time in the past century exploring the modern world. The concept was pretty cool but the dev team was having issues with the plot. So I was doing a play through to make suggestions. I was headed home for the first time to recharge my stats. My virtual fridge was stocked with energy drinks and TV dinners. There were options to upgrade both the appearance of the dingy old fridge and the contents, but I was more than happy to see my real life aligned with my virtual reality. The TV dinners restored energy but the energy drinks were the most rudimentary health potion the game had to offer. The idea behind it was that energy drinks are used by poor people to disguise or make it easier to ignore their health issues. Sometimes our developers are really fucking lame.
In the living room, a TV increased happiness and a sad looking treadmill increased fitness skills. Back in the bedroom there was a closet for increasing reputation points (based on how often you style your character and color coordination, not on how expensive the clothes are which is super nice). Across from that was the bed, which was just a save point, and then a computer which served as the social hub. Before I headed back out to play my next stretch of the game, I went into my kitchen and grabbed my own energy drink. It made me feel just a bit of kinship with my onscreen self.
This is where shit gets fucking wild. Strap yourself in, because what you're about to read is gonna throw you for the biggest loop you've ever been on. I bring the energy drink back into my ”office” and take a sip. The cold sugary waste hits my stomach and instantly makes me feel relief. My shoulders are less tense, my stomach is no longer churning, and my eyes aren't nearly as tired. This is normal for an addict, alright. But then I put the energy drink down so I could go and grab some chips. I was feeling just a little lightheaded. Hadn't eaten yet that day. The usual bum ass game stuff.
Except that today on my way to the kitchen, I busted the fuck out of my shin on the corner of my cabinet. I had apparently forgotten where everything in my apartment was and slammed my leg directly into the sharp, splintering wood siding on my cabinet. It caught and rubbed past the cabinet leaving behind immense pain and a scrape nearly all the way down and across. I muttered some things under my breath that kids would squeal with shocked delight over and got my chips before hobbling back to the couch.
I got back into my game and finished my drink and chips. The game was actually pretty alright. A bit all over the place, but still really fun. The bosses were creative as Hell (Walt Disney’s frozen head was the one at the end of TV Land) and the controls were just challenging enough to keep any average player interested. But then I remembered my leg and thought it would be a great time, three hours after the fact, to clean up my wound. Only by the time I hobbled my fat ass to the bathroom and bent over to check, there was no scrape. My skin was entirely healed. And I know that most people would have been super shocked but I guess my brain is so hardwired to how video games work that the natural conclusion for me to make was that it was the energy drink.
So I needed to do some experimenting. First, I scratched myself and pricked my fingers to test out the energy drink. It worked consistently every time. The next thing was to see if it worked for other parts of the game, so I went and grabbed a microwave dinner out of my freezer. Eating it felt like taking speed. Then I decided to see if it extended past the consumables. My character on-screen had reached near peak fitness skill level and with that came the ability to do so many situps and pushups as well as walking on my hands. Before the game, I could barely do five. Now, I was a pro. I sure as Hell had never even attempted a headstand, but there I was walking around my house on my hands.
I felt giddy. I felt suddenly as though the entire world was more...open. Like I had unlocked every level of a game at once. I knew exactly what I wanted to do with this newfound information. I slipped my favorite disc into my console and was basically shaking as I watched the load up screen. I played through until I found what I was looking for and could see exactly what I needed to do. Then I left the game on pause and packed a bag. I was out of the door so fast it almost startled me. I had never had such an easy time leaving before, but I was excited. I had fantasized about this moment for years but had never thought it would actually happen.
CONTINUING AS SOON AS I GET OFF WORK | 2018-08-14T13:06:43 | 2018-08-14T12:53:24 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] "I like adventurous guys," she says with stars in her eyes. Your date is the most beautiful woman you've ever met. In a panic, you buy last-minute plane tickets to a small Balkan country. Your plan - a short tour visit, overthrow the local government, and win her heart. | The woman I love has stars in her eyes. No really, she has actual stars in her eyes! When I look into them, I can see vast cosmos -- points of light on an infinite plane of darkness. Once, I swear I even saw Sol, with our humble planet dancing around the star like a courting lover. The first time our eyes met, I was lost, totally and irresistibly smitten.
I knew that I would do anything to win her heart -- give anything for the chance that she might love me.
I asked her, pleaded her, "My love, what can I do to win your heart?"
She smiled coyly, and my heart nearly melted with the pleasure of it. "Give a gift, a token of your love. If the gift is grand enough, I will allow you to love me."
My soul sang -- rang out with love and pleasure. "If I could pull down the night sky, and weave it into a dress, the heavens would only look tawdry and plain next to your perfection. If the power were given to me to string the stars like pearls, and place them round your neck, their light would look dim next to the radiance of your beauty. What could I give you which would be adequate?" I'll tell you, I was desperate. I'd have given the world to my love.
The woman only smiled, her teeth like polished ivory, her features soft and beautiful. My knees went weak at the sight of her.
I decided to give her admirers, people who would love her as I did. This kind of woman deserves fame, universal love, people to fulfill every whim.
"I will give you a country. A people to lavish you with love, affection, worship. I would give you the world if I could..." I pondered the idea, even then. I wished to adorn her with all the love of Earth.
Lost in my reverie, I did not notice as she left me. She slipped away like a sparrow on the wind. I wasn't worried, I knew that she would return. I had faith, that she would return.
I had my driver take me to the airport, on the way I had my plane readied. This woman, she was my moon and stars. She was heaven made flesh. She was the woman I wished to marry.
We flew to Serbia, that windswept country. I had business connections there, powerful business connections. I called them from the plane, they would know what to do. They would do their jobs well. Twelve hours later, I stepped down from my plane. I stepped into a horde of the press. They called me, "Chancellor", they called me Sir. My men had done their jobs well, a coup was always in the works. It never served to be caught flat footed in these modern times.
I walked into my new office, and sat down in my new chair. I called for artists, I called for holy men. I described my love to them. The artists drew her, their hands a blur, their faces rapt. They felt the same love I do, I wanted them dead for that. Something stayed my hand, I knew that people would love her. I couldn't have her for myself. You may as well try to own the universe, as own her affection.
The holy men were uncomfortable with my new love. They called what I said blasphemy. I had them killed. I had all the holy men killed, just in case. I could not allow them to insult my love.
Within days, the new national religion was formed, we called it 'The Church of the Long Night.' I was the high priest. I delivered my sermon, my song of love and worship to the masses. They were struck by my love, enraptured by my description of the woman with the starry eyes.
She waited in my office after I finished the first sermon. Somehow, I knew that she would be there. She purred like a satisfied kitten as she said, "I'm pleased with your gift."
I fell before her, looking into her eyes of starry night. I saw streaks of comet fire, nebulae of colors which I have yet to see again, I saw monsters, they lurked in the shadowed places. They were ravenous.
I didn't care, this woman was my Goddess, my love. Whatever she desired, I would give.
"Would you," she purred, "give me another like it? I desire more."
"Anything my love. I will give you anything," my voice was a mumbled chant. I repeated the words a dozen times, over and over. Over and over.
The world would be hers.
I tell you this now, so you understand. It is a thing of love I do, not a thing of hate. People die yes, but that is a necessary evil.
You will come to love her as I do. You will.
As soon as you see the stars in her eyes.
_____________
/r/SirLemoncakes | "Success is the ultimate driver," I say as I stare out the window of the plane, the sun's bright rays refracting off the clouds far below, creating heaven in my mind's eye. "Success gives us a chance at procreation, to allow men like me to reproduce with a female of the highest quality."
The man beside me nods knowingly at this nugget of wisdom, his half-moon glasses almost falling off his nose.
"Someone like me with someone like her," I look wistfully up at the cabin ceiling, "It's just not possible without success," I say, "I maintain that she only spoke to me because she was stranded on the side of the road and I was the first to stop."
"But we had a coffee and we chatted and I dropped her off at the mechanic and damn if she didn't seem like she came straight from another planet, with stars in her eyes," I say, still watching the cabin lights, "And I thought to myself, how could someone like me be with someone like her?"
My shoulders feel tight from sitting down in this cramped seat, I roll them and sigh contentedly at the minor relief. "It was as if she read my mind," I say, content to have such a listener, "She winked and said she liked adventurous guys - not happy, good-looking, muscular guys - but adventurous ones," I look over at the man, "So here I am, off on an adventure."
The man has nodded so far forward his chin is now on his chest. He is fast asleep.
I blink rapidly a few times, adjusting to my new reality. "It is better you don't know what I'm about to do, anyway," I say under my breath, a little peeved at his lack of engagement, "You'll be sorry you missed this opportunity to converse with such a mover and shaker as I."
I brood for a time, stroking the warn photograph that I'd insisted the tired-looking gas station attendant take. A photograph to mark the start of our romance, the two of us standing under too bright lights holding our dollar coffees. I fold the photo so it's just her in all her super model glory, low cut shirt and tight black skirt, on her way to somewhere, anywhere, it doesn't matter because she ran into me and I into her and I rub myself over my jeans, sneaking glances at my neighbor to make sure he is still asleep. I pour myself into that photo and I pour myself into my thighs, content in the warm, sticky embrace.
\------
I sip on my morning coffee, which is not nearly as good as the one at that gas station, which came enshrined in a beautiful moment now frozen in time. I try her number again and wish that I had gotten her name. Again the number goes straight to dial-tone.
"Perhaps she has run out of minutes," I say to myself. Fixing cars is expensive.
No matter, though. Soon I will be the most adventurous guy in the twenty first century, my face all over the world's news stations.
"Success is what matters," I tell the border agent as I cross from Bulgaria into Kosovo. He takes one look at my bright American smile and lets me straight through, a slight grin on his lips. "I will bring the American Dream to this land," I say, still smiling.
I look down at my hand-drawn map, copied from the internet. The government headquarters should be just around the corner, corrupt and gorging on UN aid, this building its physical manifestation.
I imbue myself with the confidence only life-long success can bring, or in my case, the iron-clad certainty that I have taken the first step on that journey, and that from this point forward my success will be life-long.
"I'm sorry, I don't speak English, " the security guard says, "What you want?"
"I am here to speak to your leader, mano-y-mano," I say, puffing up my chest to show that I mean business, that the real men must talk now.
The guard looks over his shoulder at someone inside, who beckons to let me through. I feel exhilaration and I embrace it, harness it as I walk through the high, arching doorway. I follow the important looking uniformed man down a long hallway, our footsteps echoing off the polished concrete floor.
"I will tell your 'President,' I say, using air quotes, "That you are an exemplary service member and should be rewarded." I congratulate myself on gaining this man's trust with so few words, a mark of the new, successful me.
I smile as I am led into the leader's quarters. "Strange," I say, "It's so grey and bland in here," I look up, "And the light flickers on and off." I look down at a stark metal chair and single metal table and then look up knowingly at my new friend.
"This is where I shall meet your leader, very well," I say, cheerfully taking a seat. The man looks at me with what can only be admiration, then he frowns, shakes his head and leaves.
I sit in the room waiting for my audience, the too bright light flickering on and off with a static buzzing sound.
"Finally!" I say as two men walk in. I rise half-way out of my chair, putting on my most winning smile as one backhands me across the face, and the next thing I know I'm on the ground choking for air as blood filters through my crushed windpipe and several of my teeth are scattered across the cold concrete floor.
I stay like that, slowly fading, my hand clutching and un-clutching the frayed, bloodied photograph of the woman with stars in her eyes. | 2018-12-10T08:31:16 | 2018-12-10T08:30:42 | 2,022 | 15 |
[WP] You wake up in a remote island after a plane crash as the only survivor, but you find 9 others who were also the lone survivors of 9 plane crashes already settled there. You realise that the planes were of the same airliners and next day an airdrop delivers the message "Now it starts". | 20 meters away another air drop was crashing down. A large crate about the size of a truck.
You could feel everyone trying to process what was happening. It was too much. Surviving a plane crash was enough trauma for anyone. Now... Whatever this was.
"Wait" one of the other survivors said. "Let's take a few minutes to talk about this. It's clear something very strange is going on, and we've all been through a lot. While we still don't know what's in that crate, let's spend some time learning what we can about our situation and each other".
Everyone seemed to agree. Nodding, mumbling yeses.
We gathered wood and built a fire. Some gathered fruits. Not a lot more was said for a long while.
We settled by the fire in a circle. The man who originally spoke was again the first to break the silence.
"My name is Ellis. I lost my wife in that crash." Quiet tears fell from his eyes. "I'm scared but trying to hold myself together as we figure this out".
"My name is Reina" said a woman across from me. She was the most beat up of all of us and her voice cracked. "I don't know what's going on but I'm scared out of my mind and just want this to be over".
The man next to her offered embrace which she took and sobbed into his chest.
We talked into the night. Comforting each other, learning about each other's families, origins. Normal people. None of us special or connected in any way we could figure out. We talked until we were exhausted, we cried until no tears were left. We fell asleep huddled together under some short palms.
Weeks go by. We had learned to fish and were subsisting off coconut water, fruit and crabs mostly.
The crate was untouched. We had formed a pact that no one would open it, figuring nothing good would come if it. Each 7 days a plane would fly above and drop another message. We didn't open them either. Someone knew we were here, they weren't helping us escape, and we weren't going to give them the satisfaction of playing their game.
We discussed various ways to save ourselves but all of them seemed reckless and hopeless. So we continued on.
A couple of months went by with no more messages. We were getting weary of this new life but we found ways to counsel each other and give each other hope.
One morning, we woke up to a man sitting near our camp, facing us. It was unnerving but he didn't seem to have ill intention that we could tell. We gathered and asked him who he was.
"You've ignored my messages." He said.
So clearly this man is somehow responsible for... All this? But how?
"I've watched you over the last couple of months from hidden cameras. I had hoped to enjoy a fight for survival between all of you and film it".
This was crazy and sounded like lunacy.
"Instead what you've done is found a way to help each other, support each other..." His voice now had a bit of anger in it, but it died down. "It has been inspiring to watch". He took some deep breaths and we waited.
"You see many years ago I used to host a show where we would strand people on an island for 39 days and make them complete obstacle courses and vote each other off". Some of us knew the show, Survivor. Was this man... Jeff Probst? He looked so old, weathered.
"After the show got cancelled, I went into a great depression and retreated to one of the islands I had come across where a tribe took me in and after some time taught me their shamanic rituals. I've meditated for years. I learned I could slightly control outcomes of fate and brought all of you here".
This was all just madness. We were too stunned to talk. I wanted nothing more than to murder this man, but he was also our only way off the island. We waited.
"My anger and desire for blood grew in my meditations. I tried to control it but it eats at me. I've brought you here because I never got to see a real fight to the death on the show, just the incessant arguing and pettiness of those contestants. It drove me half crazy. But you've shown me that humans can be amazing to each other. I've learned from you. I've cried so much over the last few months. I just want this to end and for you to be free."
With that he handed me a map and said it would lead us to a boat waiting for us.
He wandered into the forest.
We followed the map eagerly, half expecting another surprise. The boat was waiting, no one else on board but loaded with delicious food. We started the boat. A GPS lit up with coordinates loaded to the nearest safe port.
//////////////
Edit: I wish I had time to make this more 'complete' feeling, but I'm new at this and I have to get to work now. Hope you enjoy!
Edit 2: Aww, Reddit silver!! Thanks kind stranger!! Made my day!
Edit 3: And gold?! Teeheehee! Thx!
| Somewhere above the Pacific Ocean
“Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. It’s all a dream nothing more. Don’t open your eyes. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. Ohh god please forgive me for all my sins, I know I was never religious, but please forgive me, please look after Jon and Noah, please look after jasmine. I spent some good times, but I guess this is the ... “
The screams stopped, the cries calmed down. Everything seemed to go silent. Mark thought this was it. He had already died along with the hundred other with him on the ship, but then he opened his eyes. What he found was beyond horrific. Death was everywhere around him, but it didn’t touch him, and for that he was grateful.
“Maybe god did listen to my prayers after all”
The first thing he thought of doing was to call out, see if anyone else was still alive.
“ANYONE THEEEREEEE?”
No answer. “Damn I got lucky”, he got up, checked to see for any injuries, “nothing major”. He found the exit and went out. “Now where the hell are we?” He knew they were somewhere in the pacific as he had been following he flight on his screen, but beyond that he had no idea.
“Should’ve eaten before the flight like you told me, jasmine”
You might be thinking “how the hell is this it so calm? This isn’t realistic, it’s like an amateur is writing this on reddit or something.” Well first of all: yes you dumb shit, you should probably just wipe and leave, you got work to do. And second of all: let me give you guys a little backstory. Two years ago, mark was in Afghanistan serving for the navy seals. This isn’t really his first plane crash either. Let’s just say he’s been through a lot, but ohh boy is he going through a shit ton more.
I won’t bother you with the small details, but fast forward a day later and mark is here at a campfire eating some crispy wild hog and thinking to himself “how the hell am I gonna get out of here?”
He hears a rustle in the branches. “What was that?” He takes his wooden machete and walks over to the branches carefully, waits a few seconds, and he sees a human leg in there. “Anyone there?” He says. “Mark?” The bush responds. “Harry? What he he’ll are you doing here?” Harry comes out of the bush and they both hug each other. “Been a good couple of years, man. Well you know a plane crashes, you end up on a deserted island, the usual stuff” they both laugh and sit at the campfire to catch up like they just met at a mall.
“Forgot to tell you, our hole platoon had crashed here ... on separate planes”
“What? You don’t think someone’s on to us do you?”
“Seems like it”
“Well how are we gonna get out of this thi...”
They both hear a drone landing near them with a small paper attached to it, mark grabs it and starts to read “gentlemen, welcome. You have all been selected for a mission however before I tell you what it is, you must all pass the test at hand. All 9 of you must find a way to escape the island you are on and go back to mainland. A messenger will be waiting for you there and will escort you to our headquarters. I wish you luck gentlemen and remember, you are America’s finest”
“Well then gotta go tell the rest of the guys”
30 mins later:
“Well guys look who I’ve found”
“Captain, thought you would crash the party?”
“Greg the party just started, we have a mission to get to, but first we need to find a way out of this place, you guys have been here longer than me, so any ideas?”
“Well the water is shark infested and there’s no land anywhere near, so that’s out the way”
“Not really, we could use the engine blades from the planes to build a boat”
“I like the sound of that, so let’s split up, Gregg, Monroe, Walkings, and Harry you go get the engine blades and any other parts from the plane. Matt you’re the smart one around here, you’ll draw the plans for the boat. Foster I need you to get us enough water for a week long trip at least. The rest of us will hunt for food for the trip.
The men all went their separate ways, none of them being phased by the challenge, they’ve faced way worse.
A week later and they had an almost functioning boat, supplies, and nine tires bodies. They started their trip, not knowing where they were heading, only having the stars for direction.
Another week later and the boat arrived on the docks of Seattle. They got down and waited for this messenger to come.
Approaching them was a blonde, young women, wearing a black suit and sunglasses that covered her beautiful face. She went up to mark. “Captain mark, you’re late. The organization has been waiting for you. Now come with me”
They went with her towards a minivan
Mark went inside to find a man sitting with a glass of champagne in his hand.
“Captain mark, what took you so long? Oh who cares the important thing is that you’re here. Your mission is as follows: three weeks ago a Russian scientist was found dead in his apartment, he had found a way to purify the atmosphere of any planet to fit human needs. The Russians believe it was us who did it. you’re mission is to postpone world war 3 until we are able to deploy this technology and inhabit mars.”
P.S
I was thinking of deleting this because I don’t really like it, but decided to post it anyways. So here you go
| 2018-12-26T05:34:13 | 2018-12-26T04:18:59 | 812 | 34 |
[WP] being the grim reaper is pretty lonely, you only ever meet people once to escort them to the other side and most don’t want to talk. Except this one soul, who every week without fail shows up ready to make the journey. How he gets back I have no idea, but it’s nice to see a familiar face. | “Sorry I’m late,” she says as she gets in the boat. “The game went into overtime.”
“That’s all right,” I say. “How did your son do?”
“He scored the winning shot! Of course, it was his only bucket of the game and he's still not that good...but he was so happy and his teammates were hugging him…he never had too many friends when I was there.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“I can’t wait to tell him how proud I am.”
\-
“He bought his first house today!”
“Congratulations!”
“He finally moved out of that dingy apartment with those dodgy roommates.”
“Life is looking up for him, isn’t it?”
“Of course!”
\-
“Why the frown?” I ask.
“He married her.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“She’s all wrong for him. So wrong. She makes him feel like he’s lucky to have her, and laughs about him with her friends behind his back…I want to slap her everytime I see her.”
“But he’ll be okay, right?”
“I hope so,” she says, her voice quiet, low like a rattling wind over the black river we cross. “I just wish I was there for him. Sometimes it hurts, going back to see him and knowing he can’t see me.”
“Maybe you should take a break from your visits,” I suggest.
“Maybe.”
\-
“She left him,” she says. “I only wish it were sooner.”
“And him? How is your son doing?”
“He…is not in a good place. When I left him, he was sitting on the floor, drinking cheap beer to keep warm, looking so much like his father…I wish I could have picked up all the cans for him, hugged him…he looked so cold…”
There is nothing for me to say.
“I think I’ll stop visiting for a while. It hurts too much to see him like this.”
\-
The next time I see her, she is standing on the dock, her arms around a small boy. It has been a while since I have seen her, and this time she is smiling.
“I’d like you to meet my son,” she says.
I look at the boy, who has seen my face and is trying to keep a straight face of his own.
“Nice to meet you,” I say. “I’d apologize for my face, but that’s not my fault.”
He giggles, a little, as they get in the boat. “My mommy told me you have Oreos where we’re going.”
“Oreos?” I look at his mother. She tilts her head, telling me to go along with it. “Of course we have Oreos!”
“Unlimited Oreos?”
“As many as you want,” she says. “And chips too, isn’t that right?”
“All the chips in the world,” I say.
“Then what are we waiting for?” the boy says. “Why didn’t we come here as soon as possible?”
“I’ve asked myself that so many times, sweetie,” his mother says, finally content, not looking back, only forward at eternity with her little boy.
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | The Reaper was ticking his checklist off, checking the Book of Names for who was dying next, tying his shoes, polishing his scythe, etc. Once he was ready to gather the souls that had died that day, he stepped off the floating platform of the Undeath and began free fall into the infinite darkness. As fast as the fall had started, he had already appeared on Earth. He walked until he reached where his first payload of the night.
In a bit of 40 hours, the Reaper had reaped them all for that block of time. Upon reaching the Undeath again, he headed to the Book of Names. Silence was bliss throughout the Undeath usually with not even the scuffle of feet or the sound of the wind. But as he was looking at the names of the soon-to-be deceased, he heard something.
It was tiny, barely a whisper but the Reaper heard it. He flew over in an instant to find the source of the noise and couldn't find it. Then the sound was there again; a cough. The Reaper sped throughout the Undeath and then found it. It was a small human wearing white robes. The Reaper looked at it confused.
"What are you doing here?" the Reaper spoke.
The human looked up at the Reaper unfazed. "Oh, you forgot me so I came up here myself."
The Reaper looked confused. "I do not forget names."
The human shrugged, nonchalantly. "We all forget eventually. Are you like, what, the Grim Reaper?"
The Reaper realised that he was floating and so lowered himself down to the ground to become eye level with the human. "Yes. Who are you?"
"Mort." the Human said. "So, uh, what now?"
"Do you... Mort... Do you want to go to the afterlife?"
Mort looked off at the infinite darkness of the edge of the Undeath. "Well, what happens?"
"Nothing, forever. You're just kind of there."
"Oh, is there an alternative?" Mort said, fiddling with the white robes he clearly didn't remember wearing.
"Would you like to stay here, Mort?"
Mort walked to the edge of the Undeath and sighed. "Is... is there anything down there?"
The Reaper followed along, his skeletal footsteps being left behind in the dark, ashy sand. Eventually the Reaper spoke again. "We are in the Undeath. No human has ever come here before. I can leave this place, but I don't know about you. If I don't reap your soul then..."
Mort looked at the Reaper. "What?"
"You have a timer, if I don't reap you soon, you won't be able to go to the Afterlife. I can't guarantee you'll be able to leave the Undeath if you don't leave now." They both looked off into the darkness and after a few seconds the Reaper spoke again, "Please, stay with me. I've been so lonely."
Mort looked at the Reaper and smiled, "I can't stay here forever."
The Reaper was sad and looked off into the distance solemnly. "I understand." He unclipped the scythe from his back and raised it up. As he went to lower it down, Mort flickered a smile then leapt backwards into the eternal darkness surrounding the Undeath.
The Reaper looked shocked before peering over the edge to see Mort fly back up, the white robes shaking in by some force.
"Do not forget a soul every again, Reaper." Mort said as a bright blue light cracked open behind him, illuminating the entire Undeath.
His robes also shaking, the Reaper put an arm in front of him to block out the light. "What are you?" He asked.
"All." Mort replied. "I'm Mort Al."
Mort disappeared into the blue light, maybe the Afterlife, maybe something else entirely. The Reaper looked up, sad. Now that he knew he could bring people into the Undeath... | 2019-02-22T03:44:42 | 2019-02-22T02:17:15 | 324 | 35 |
[WP] In a fantasy world filled with magical champions, you find yourself forced into your first battle of a long tournament. You may not have magical swords, or spells, but you do have something this world has never seen before: your trusty M1911, and all the ammo you could fix up before the fight. | Life is a funny thing. One moment you’re in the woods for some target practice, and suddenly you’re in front of a bearded man with a robe. Of at least that’s where Dave was. Apparently a summoning had gone wrong, a not uncommon occurrence in this land, and now Dave Briston was stranded here.
The wizzard, a student who had botched his summoning practice, was very apologetic, but offered little beyond some money for a week’s food and lodging. The wizzard also gave a recommendation of a professional summoner to send Dave back. Unfortunately, that summoner’s services were not cheap, as Dave would have to provide all of the materials needed.
Which brings us to the present. Dave looked over his assets: A small backpack with an empty Tupperware (its sandwich long since eaten), a basic first aid kit, an ammo box with about four boxes worth of ammo in it (a couple hundred rounds), a cleaning kit, and of course a 1911. Not enough to enter into mercenary work, and not enough to take down too many monsters. But it was enough for some blood sports. And this world did love its combat; there was a colosseum that would put most football stadiums to shame in the city.
Dave spent the last of the money he had on a day watching the matches. It seemed there were two categories: armored and unarmored. Armored matches were far safer; they were not usually to the death, and combatants were well protected in the finest armor that could be provided. Dave could be sure to survive these matches, and slowly earn enough money to return home.
Unarmored matches though... these were bloodbaths. Fighters were stripped to the waist, and encouraged to kill their opponents as gruesomely as possible. Dave watched a variety of creative deaths; impalements, beheadings, and even a person turned inside out by magic. But most importantly, he watched the winners of these rounds receive triple the amount of their armored counterparts.
Dave knew that armor is tough. A gun is useful, but it can’t guarantee someone goes down immediately if they’re surrounded by magical metal. If that someone is also enraged, and able to close the distance between you... well, it didn’t bear thinking about. But bare flesh was another story...
Dave quickly made a small fortune in the arena, taking on all comers. Magicians found themselves sucking air before they could say a spell; warriors couldn’t even approach before a bullet ended them. Soon, Dave had enough to arrange a return home.
It was only a trip long enough to get better weaponry and a reloading bench though. Work was getting slow in Dave’s world, and work in the arena suited him. No one would try and stop him as he shot people down here.
Life is a funny thing sometimes, but when you’re a hit man, funny is a damn good alternative. | "Your weapon will not pierce through my armor!"
Captain Strong fired his gun. The bullet hit the armor and ricocheted back at him, and he moved his head only in the nick of time. He had heard that the enemy in front of him possessed a legendary suit of armor that could stop any kind of attack, but to see an armor-piercing round bounce off of it with nary a scratch was something else entirely.
*'Normal tactics won't work here.'* he mused, thinking quickly. He stole a look at his Lieutenant, who watched the battle impassively.
His enemy charged. Fast as lightning, the armored warrior crossed the arena with his magically charged boots. Strong barely had time to dodge before a sword longer than he was tall sliced the air in front of him. He could feel the air being pushed away by the strike, creating shockwaves just from the sheer power behind them.
The warrior swung again, and Strong dodged to the left, narrowly avoiding the fist that came as a followup.
"Stop dodging and fight! Or are you too scared to face my blade head on?" taunted the armored warrior.
Strong looked at his opponent, analyzing him, before nodding and pulling out a knife from its sheath. Taking a breath, he took a stance.
And ripped the front of his shirt off. Gasps erupted from the crowd, whispering what the strange man from the distant land was thinking. Lieutenant Intel, however, only smiled.
A second later, the armored warrior charged, his sword pointed directly in front of him. In the blink of an eye he reached Strong.
With one final step, he thrust out his sword.
And Strong moved to the side with his leg pulled up.
The attack struck true. The armored warrior fell to the ground, stumbled from the fall. Strong quickly kicked his sword away before binding his legs with his shirt and his hands with his handkerchief. The armored warrior struggled, his bindings starting to rip free, but Strong stomped on the back of his neck, which was only protected by chainmail and not by the legendary suit.
That was the final nail on the coffin. The warrior cried out a gasp, before their arms finally fell limp, earning Strong the win.
He thrust his arm up in victory, but the crowd was silent, too stunned to realize that one of their champions was just beaten with nothing but a piece of cloth.
*Clap. Clap. Clap.*
Then, a single round of clapping rung from the front. Intel was clapping her hands, and before long others joined as well.
"Amazing!"
"The Armored Princess was defeated by someone without magic?!"
Strong did a double take. He looked at Intel who merely shook her head, smirking.
"It was clear he cheated! How could mere cloth be able to bind the Armored Princess who could break stone with just her fist?!"
"Fool! Did you not see where he struck the Princess? This is a man who knows how to fight!"
Captain Strong no longer listened to the comments from the crowd. He took a step back to allow the healers to attend to the now identified Armored Princess, before moving to the rest area.
---
On his next fight, he showed to the audience why he was named Captain Strong by punching his opponent out of the stratosphere.
---
Meanwhile, Lieutenant Intel on her own fights merely walked up to all of her opponents and blackmailed them.
Even Captain Strong.
Making her the overall winner of the tournament.
The end. | 2019-04-22T22:17:16 | 2019-04-22T21:34:15 | 27 | 11 |
[WP] When you reach the age of 21, you are given a check from the government. The check has been carefully calculated and is worth the minimum amount of money you need for the rest of your life. Your check came in the mail today and it was $7.27
Edit: Wow this blew up better than I thought it would. | The day had finally come. My 21st birthday, the final threshold to adulthood and the removal of the last legal prohibitions to having some fun. My older friends had received their checks and partied hard – some for days, some for hours. My younger friends waited enviously to see what I’d receive. The anticipation was worse than even college finals results.
​
“Anderson, J. Seven dollars and twenty-seven cents. Sign.”
​
I was shocked. They were shocked. What had begun as a party-to-be turned quickly into a wake, and those who I thought were my friends quickly commiserated and deserted me to find the next free drinks. I sighed and signed my name, bitterly cursing the governmental mathematicians who put me in this ridiculous predicament. Seven lousy bucks!
​
I guess it’s good for at least a soda, though, right? I took my check to the nearest gas station and decided to pick up at least some sort of drink to celebrate the day. Dr. Pepper was on sale 2 for $2, so I was already ahead! Silver linings and all that stuff. Peering into the scratchcard case, I figured I might as well throw the remaining five bucks at the mega-jackpot ticket. It’s not like I’d be able to do much else.
​
“Seven dollars and twenty-six cents, hon” said the cashier. I smiled at her and handed her my check. I guess I couldn’t even spend that little a windfall all in one place. She handed me my sodas, my scratch card, my receipt and a single shiny penny in change. Well, at least I’d have something to scratch with.
​
Donkey. Donkey. Horseshoe. Dollar bill. Horseshoe. Clover. Dollar bill. Firework. Horseshoe.
​
Wait, *what?* I looked at the payout table. Three horseshoes. 5 million bucks. Enough to set me up for life if I was careful enough. Easily enough to survive for a good while… and all of my so-called friends already abandoned me and written me off.
​
Damn the government! They’ve become so good at this stuff that they found a way that they didn’t even have to pay for me! | John was astonished by what lay before him. In bold black letters, on a sober cream background read the words that most people were elated to see. But not John. John was far from that. £7.27. £7.27? There had to have been a mistake. Only £7.27? How? Why!?
"its not fair" John muttered to himself as he slumped onto the stained floor of his apartment. "then again, it never is". There John sat for a while, rocking back and forth pausing occasionally as if to voice some great and remarkable thought, to an audience that simply was not there.
"fuck it" he thought. "i'm done". John couldn't even storm out of his apartment; if John were to stand up too quickly his anemia would make him feel dizzy and he would have to sit right back down. So like always, he walked out of his apartment in no rush. He didn't close the door. Why should he? He had no plan of returning.
There was a bridge nearby to where John lived, a young boy died last year because he was playing on it and fell. Needless to say the funeral was closed casket. As John marched to the bridge he noticed all the menial crap he walked by everyday without realizing. Corner shop after corner shop after corner shop.
He'd never gone into one of the stores before so why now? Why not? He had nothing to lose after all. He had no idea why he was in there, no idea what he wanted. He supposed it was just a way to delay, waste some time before the inevitable. So that's what he'd do. Waste some time. John picked up a random tub of gum and dragged himself in front of the cashier.
"Will that be all sir?" the cashier asked in an uninterested tone. John had zoned out, he wasn't listening, he was too busy thinking about what he was about to do.
"Sir?" the cashier probed.
"Oh-uh, sorry, uh..." John stammered. He noticed some lottery tickets behind the counter. He looked at his current total. £2.27. "how much for the scratch card?".
"five pounds". the cashier shot back, with uncharacteristic energy. £5?
John chuckled to himself, "yeah, give me one of those". It was like it was preordained, planned by some greater power. "Cheers mate" John muttered before stumbling out the store. sat on the edge of the bridge, John stabbed away at his scratch card. One diamond. Must have been a fluke. Two diamonds. There's no way he'll win. Three. Diamonds. He understood now. He was rich. Three diamonds! Suddenly it all made sense to John.
As John danced and jumped and hollered, he stepped back, into the road. He didn't hear the car come speeding round the corner.
As John lay there, choking on his own kidneys, he appreciated the great irony in his situation. Had he never won the lottery, he wouldn't have stepped into the road. Had he lost he would have jumped.
Funny that. | 2019-04-24T14:49:01 | 2019-04-24T13:46:39 | 99 | 10 |
[WP] A man was sentenced to death. He was executed, announced dead, and had a funeral. The day after, you got a phone call from the police station from the same man asking you to be his lawyer. He argued, "I paid for my crimes already. They can't sentence me twice." It was all over the news. | "I'm not sure I follow."
Lucas Giraldi rolled his eyes and folded his hands on the table he was seated at. "I'm gonna tell you one more time," he said in a frustrated tone that made his Texas accent sound funny.
"I'm listening."
"The Devil and I go way back. I knew him as Johnny back in the day but then some fraud made up that awful book and twisted all of our stories. See, me and pops," I cut him off.
"Pops?"
"My father," he rolled his eyes again. "His name is Joe, I call him pops, y'all know him as God or whatever. Not the point right now, with all due respect of course, Miss Evans. Johnny, the Devil, and I go way back. See, pops can do a lot of things but Johnny is the son of Zeus and can do just a little bit more. My pops can give people a life after death in what y'all know as Heaven but only Johnny can give people a life after death here."
"So why did he bring you back? You are aware that you've been dubbed," I picked up a loose sheet of paper and read from it, "The Midnight Slasher, The Midnight Man, The World's Most Notorious Serial Killer, The World's Most Brutal Murderer," I paused and glanced up at him, "shall I continue, Mr. Giraldi?"
"No need, darlin'. I'm innocent. That's why I'm here."
"Apart from the fact that this is completely ludacris, you have been deemed guilty by the court of law, Mr. Giraldi. The evidence-"
Lucas scoffed, "The evidence is a bunch of bullshit."
I stared back at him in shock. "Excuse me?"
"I've been framed."
"By who? Aphrodite?" I forced a chuckle.
"Kali actually. She's a wicked bitch when you cross her."
"Excuse me?"
"Get up to date on your God knowledge, Miss Evans."
I could not bring myself to speak. I only eyed him in confusion.
"We have some people to talk to. I refuse to go down in my history as some murderer."
"So do you suggest we talk to Kali then? Johnny? Zeus? Your father?"
Lucas chuckled. "Heavens no. Kali will kill us instantly, Johnny has done his part, Zeus isn't a part of this, and my old man doesn't come into play just yet."
"Then who?"
"We start with Aphrodite. Her and Kali are actually very good friends."
"And you think that's a good idea?"
Lucas grinned ear to ear and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "She always did have a soft spot for good old Jesus Christ, Lucas Giraldi. I think it's the accent and good looks. What do you think Miss Evans?"
"I think I'm getting myself into a whole boatload of crazy."
The handsome man laughed. "Just like Noah and that boat full of whores. Man, the missus sure was pissed about that one."
"Pardon?"
"Oh boy, do I have a lot to teach you, Miss Evans." | The two sat across each other as he had raced to the police station. It was late, and the weather was rain pouring down. It did not take long for the two to get an interrogation room to chat.
Though it did not come to much talking. For a couple of minutes, they just stared at each other. Then, a chuckle fell.
"You... worry me." The man said to the defendant. A gentle smile appeared.
"You think they noticed?" The defendant said, but more in a chuckle rather than a concerned voice.
"Well... I'm not sure, but..." The lawyer said, as he tapped on some paper to sort them tight again. "...This doubtlessly is going to raise some questions."
"Oh come on... only the two of us k-..." The defendant tries to say, but the lawyer sighs.
"No, it's... not about that. It's something..." The laywer tries, but the man laughs.
"I get it, I get it. You're jealous." He says with a chuckle, but the lawyer just sighs annoyed.
"I don't think I would envy your position at the table here." He replies and rolls his eyes. "You should be more... considerate, responsible, with what you have." He explains, but clearly that did not interest the defendant. He leaned back and rolls his eyes.
"Oh here we go again, mister 'I would know how to use this better if I had them.' Buuut... I get it." He says as he leans forward again.
"You can't just... undo stuff like that. Not every time." The lawyer hisses softly.
"Pft, relax. It's not like anyone else will... like... literally remember it. Well except you. Besides, it's *so cool.* That moment when I won a million dolla-..."
"You cheated. You kept undoing your attempt over and over until you hit the jackpot."
"What about riding that shark back in Aus-..."
"You said yourself that nearly costed you a hundred limbs before you succeeded."
"Or that armed robbe-..."
"Got shot multiple times until you learned his aim on all six shots."
"Then what a-..." The defendant tries another time, but gets rudely interrupted once more.
"No, dude. Just, no. You need to stop abusing this for your own entertainment. It's not something to just toy with, it's..."
"It's a special gift that I need to treat with respect and responsibility." The defendant says, head leaning on his arm, while he rolled his eyes as he narrated a quote with a condenscending, bored voice.
"I can't keep helping you forever, you know that, right? What if you..."
"Get into deep trouble? ... No?"
"... fail?" He said. Seriousness in his eyes. The defendant looked at him, noticing he was concerned about something he did not expect. His ability... *failing?* That hasn't ever happened before. But... could it?
"I... It won't. Trust me."
"I want to."
"Well... you... probably should."
"Why?"
The defendant looks at the clock, and then sighs. "Two guards will enter soon ask us to leave. A minute after you leave, someone will crash their car right in the front of the entrance. Whole place is in chaos, but don't worry, nobody was hurt. He was driving drunk and hardly hit anything dangerous. But, don't tell them I told you."
"W-wait, what are you..." The lawyer says, only trying to puzzle what he was going to tell, before the door was opened, soon followed by two officers stepping in. | 2019-07-05T15:18:17 | 2019-07-05T13:07:16 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] You die in a car accident and go to the afterlife. Everything is amazing until you meet several generations of relatives who are disgusted by your modern behaviour and all, "want a word." | **You wanted to talk to me, grandpa?**
Sit down, Johnny. Look, I'm sorry you died at age 17. Rough break. But at least you're here in the afterlife with family.
**Yeah, about that. Why are we all in hell?**
Because I cheated on your grandma, your mother embezzled from her work, your father once killed a guy, and you... well, I guess it's guilt by association.
**I got shot trying to help foil a robbery. A woman and her child were being held at gunpoint, and I tried to save them.**
You shouldn't have bothered. Your best years were ahead of you.
**Really?**
No, and I'm gonna tell you what I told some of the other young people down here in hell, like the Columbine killers and the little girl from Poltergeist: Clean up your act.
**I'm sorry?**
Look at you. You're all soft, modern, and dull. I've beenm talking with all of your other relatives down here, mainly the ones older than me, and we're tired of your bullshit be-bop greaser attitude, you dime store hoodlum.
**Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down. First things first. Did you say my dad killed a guy?**
He did! Hit and run when he was in Milwaukee for a business conference when you were 8. Remember how he came home early and didn't leave the basement for three days? He was driving drunk on his way back to his hotel when he ran over a homeless guy.
**Oh, my God!**
Anyways, that wasn't your fault. Hell's not to bad, though. I'm about to go to dinner and you can come along IF you clean up your act. No slouching, no modern slang, no hair gel. It's not every day you get to eat with former President Gerald Ford and Weird Al Yankovic's parents.
**Do I have to wear a tie?**
This is hell, so yes, but only a clip on.
**I hate this place.**
Yeah, don't get me started...
(end scene) | ‘Angel of death’ are written in crude sharpie on a helmet. It’s written just above a drab green American flag.
The First Reconnaissance Battalion of the USMC makes it start. A blitz to Baghdad.
The radio played dimly as the cars drove across the land like a single tendril of an leviathan. The distance was great and the scenery monotonous. The cool dry air whipped through my hair. I was about to fall asleep, boredom being my lullaby.
At once I knew something happened. I wasn’t in my seat. I lay on a bed of cool dust and rocks. My vision blurry and ears still ringing. My body felt cold. Soon it was hard to distinguish where my body ended and the earth began. I let my eyes close to the soft blue sky.
When I awoke, I was blinded by a warm and comforting light. As I gained my vision, I was on an old country road. A man in an old flannel shirt walked up to me.
“ well darn, thought you had more left in you. Guessing I owe old Roy a ‘you told me so’” he talked in a familiar manner.
“What happened, wait, where am I?”
“Well sir you kicked the bucket. Well technically someone else kicked it but you get the point.”
“Wait what, but I was-”
“Not anymore you aren’t” he winked “you were and now you’re mulch. Ironic not much has need for mulch out there”
“So I’m dead?”
“Yep, and lucky not in downstairs neither”
“I guess that’s better” I said, attempting to look on the bright side. “So who are you”
“Well I’m...” he counted on his fingers “your great great great Uncle Joe”.
“ are you-”
“Yep” he added before I could finish “I was at the battle of Verdun helping the Frenchies when fighting fist broke. You think Iraq was long let me tell you”
I head clambering as other people walked up the path to the dirt road where Joe and I stood. A man in a grey, high collard shirt piped up. His dark hair was long and slicked back.
“ now hold on Joe, remember that I fought longer. You just got pinned down.” He looked over to me “Call me Roy, I’m from your mom’s side. And if you want to see a tough campaign, then you should hear about the Barbary states. I bet you can’t even use a sword”
A woman In a blue dress hurried up the path
“Hush now, don’t harass him none. Don’t listen to them sweetie” Her attention now to me “you fought very bravely when you had to and you did a lot of good. Come on now and meet the rest of the family.” | 2019-07-24T13:59:36 | 2019-07-24T13:54:12 | 40 | 24 |
[WP] Due at an error, a baby was born without a guardian angel. A demon notices this and has taken it upon themself to become their guardian demon. But they seem to have some... Dark ways of helping their human stay alive. | He wandered though the empty train storage yard at night, unafraid of the things that may lurk there. This wasn’t bravery, or even stupidity. This was a classic symptom of not having a guardian angel. That little niggling discomfort that tells you not to go in. That tingle up the spine that says “this is not a safe place”. For Sanjay though, third Sanjay of his slum dwelling born that day, this was a fairly daily occurrence. It was incredibly rare for a guardian angel to miss his appointment, but the Mumbai slums were a melting pot of births and still-births and the Sanjay Shukta’s of the world were many in number. Not being his guardian angel, I couldn’t send him those feelings. My powers related more to another part of him, and those wouldn’t kick in until he started to turn into a young adult. I watched as dark shadows followed him from the rows of train parts, stacked high to block almost all of the moonlight. They slipped silently along, parallel and always following, intent on making this 8 year old their next meal. I unfurled a wing, letting the wind catch me and pull me towards the nearest. It looked up a second before I landed, I was now the shadow and up close it became just a street dog, sharp jaws at the ready. Not sharp enough though as teeth grated on the hard scales of my arms and its neck snapped beneath me with a soft crunch. I ran along silently, taking out each dog in seconds, pausing to feast upon the last one, watching as Sanjay started to root around in a pile of parts.
He slowly lifted his haul of parts into a sackcloth, bearing the weight on his scrawny shoulders, ready to sell them back in town. His slow, tired footsteps echoing off the now empty rows. He slipped past the sleeping forms of the workers, piled into the carts they work with, napping away the warm night. He stalked across the smallest bridge of the river, avoiding the gangs he knew patrolled the others. He managed to get within a street of his home, before I had to discard the final leg of canine and pick up my duties again. A large man with patchy hair and beard slipped out of an alleyway behind him. One hand rubbing obscenely in his pants, another with a loop of rope for holding down young boys. I slipped down the wall like a shadow across a light source. Sticking a leg out, he didn’t see before crashing into it and stumbling head over heels. A quick hand movement and his head was in his own rope, the other end moved into a crack in the wall above. His face turned purple with the effort to take that life saving breath and he shuddered hard, either in fear, pain or pleasure. The boy turned to look at his dangling form, into my eyes for a moment, before trudging off home. Another haul, more money, more food, another day of survival. | Despite the pride the humans have accumulated through their time on Earth, the species is fragile. Technologies and medicines could only go so far as protecting one from their materialisation onwards. Prior to that, however, the souls that were to be bound to new flesh are weak and vulnerable. That is where the angels come in, carrying on the time-honoured tradition of shielding these beings from harm. The humans, in return, have offered faith. When other lifeforms, the other pets of the Creator in universes far beyond comprehension of mankind abandoned Him, men stood solely as his sheep. So it was that all angels are to safeguard mankind from threats they are unable to fight against. Until today, when the omnipotent slacked and slipped.
Of course, such mistake was grave. And the Creator could not afford to lose his last zealots. For the carcass that is to be born will be limp and rubbery, a corpse. Its soul will have been devoured by forces of malevolence no medicines could cure. Men would be terrified, as the notion of the souls and the body would become apparent as separated concepts. Most importantly, the humans would stop believing in their protectors, and that would be the end for the Heavens.
So He ended the child.
It was declared that the child is to be stillborn, and when the corpse came to Purgatory, the Demons are to incinerate it in the flames of Hell, until the last of the bones becomes fuel for the eternal nova. However, souls with no comprehension of good or evil could not be tried, thus, transition would be sacrilegious, for it disobeys the respected regulations that exempts none.
The Demons, themselves, decided on another approach. The corpse, they say, would be resuscitated, with not a soul, but the control of one of them.
So, imbued with dark magic, the corpse rose once more.
For the humans, the doctors involved in diagnosis and the parents of the child, in particular, such was a miracle. It was quickly reasoned that perhaps the machines, the scanners and the displays, were erroneous. For it was only for a moment did the aforementioned events transpired - the baby was limp for just an instance.
The Demon in possession of the child, however, did not enjoy such jubilation. The moment the atmosphere of the mortal realm touched him, he regretted the choice. Demons are not to roam this plane. He agonised, for he defied the choice of the Creator. Every breath of his was painful as the inhalation of scorching flames and exhalation of glass shards. He did not sign up for this.
And it was because of that torment, that the demon destroyed himself. His vessel, with his soul inside, raged for and end. The toddler frame, with the strength and dexterity of a beast, tossed and turned in the middle of its mother's womb. It ripped and clawed, at itself and at all it could see. The will of Demons are meek, and the pain of existence took its sanity. It wanted an end.
That day, four were killed. The mother was ripped apart from the inside, and the child dead from the hands of the doctor fetching it. That very doctor ended himself the following day, caving in to the pressure of the ravenous reporters and the unforgiving glance of the public. The father, after hearing of the doctor's death, succumbed.
The Creator was not to be defied. He could not do wrong. To believe that he was mistaken is to wage bloodshed and terror. | 2019-12-14T22:12:02 | 2019-12-14T21:32:54 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] you have the ability to hold full conversations with plants. you’ve only ever spoken to civilised pot plants living in houses or cafes. out of curiosity, you decide to speak with a lonely weed living in a dark alleyway. | "Would you please move me a few inches to the left?" the finicky fiddle-leaf fig asked me, its voice curt and shrew. "I don't quite like the strength of the sun right here. It's too warm."
I obliged with a sigh--who knew talking to plants would be so much work? They always demanded so much of me, crying at all hours of the day if things weren't just right for them, and that sweet spot was almost impossible to find. "Is this good enough?" I asked.
"No, but it'll have to do, I suppose. Don't be alarmed if I die a little, moving is such difficult work. I'll make it through, one way or another; that's what royalty does. It endures."
I nodded glacially, puckering my lips. "Right, that makes sense. Say, Fiddle. . .can I ask you a question?"
After a moment of silence, Fiddle replied, "I suppose I could entertain you, yes."
"I know you're new here, but you're already really big and beautiful. How did you find it in you to grow all the time, and become what you are today?"
"It's in my nature to," Fiddle replied abruptly. "I know nothing else but growth and regality. It's hard work, mind you, constantly having to make do with imperfect conditions such as this, but I do my best and pull it off in the end. Only the best of the best have what it takes. Days are never perfect, but I survive."
"Yeah, that makes sense." With a sigh, I stood and left the sunroom. Fiddle was the newest and least socially aware of my friends, and I wondered how he might get along with the others; though, something told me he'd be just fine, in any case.
Outside it was a bit gloomy, with light grey skies that tinged things a shade of bleak just strong enough to pull me down. Still, I wanted to go for a walk and clear my head. Sometimes I like to do that when life has me down. On my way out the door, I stopped by my corn plant, squatting beside him.
"How are you, Cornelius?" I asked, the words a sigh.
"Oh, I'm alright, I suppose. Can't complain too much. Thanks for asking, how are you doing?"
"I've been better."
"Me too. My leaves are a bit dry at the tips; it's not very humid in here." Cornelius had a rather flat voice that didn't indicate whining, but rather a statement of fact.
"Sorry about that, I'll get a humidifier for this room. Everything else okay?"
"Yeah, that's about it. Just getting by, you know. Making do."
I looked up and down the bright yellow bands streaking across the middle of each of its leaves and offered a half-hearted smile. "Well, that's good, at least. I get what you mean. Anyway, I'll leave you be. See you around."
"Bye now."
I heard him shiver when I opened the door, and quickly shut it behind me. It was nice being surrounded with friends, even if they didn't all get me very well; we were different, but that was okay. Better not to be alone.
The dull air hanging over my town was brisk but not too cold, and the lack of sun made me a little sad, but it was still a decent day out. Decent enough for a walk, at least. I passed a few trees on my way, most of whom know me but seldom say anything back to me. I think they find me creepy or annoying, which is fair enough, I guess. I'm not a plant, after all. Walking around town is much nicer in the spring and summer than the fall, because the grass sings beautiful hymns, and the trees whistle in fresh, warm gales. No one is very happy during the other seasons.
I continued down my usual route without stopping much, and decided not to get a treat on the way like I do sometimes; I wasn't feeling very hungry. In the last few blocks of my journey, I noticed something I hadn't before: a little blob of green on the ground, tucked between a couple commercial buildings that blocked out the sun. I ran over, thinking it had fallen from somewhere else and needed help.
"Are you okay?" I asked, tenderly assessing its limp leaves. It was embedded in the concrete, sprouting from a crack, and wouldn't budge at all.
"Hi there!" it replied, voice full of joy and wonder. "Wow, I hardly ever get any visitors here. What's your name?"
Stunned, I blinked a few times, then, "Olivia. What's yours?"
"Oh, I don't have a name. Never needed one, but that's okay!"
"Isn't that sad, not having a name?"
"I don't need a name to enjoy my life! Anywho, how are you on this lovely day?"
Again, I sat there in silence for a time, entirely confused by the strange little creature. "I'm. . .I'm alright, I suppose. Thanks for asking. How are you?"
"I'm wonderful," it replied honestly. "Just lovely."
"Aren't you cold?" I asked, looking all around. "There's no sunlight here, and the concrete doesn't hold warmth very well."
"Oh, no, it's not so bad," said the weed, with an earnest voice. "I suppose it's a little dark, and it's a little cold, but I'm sure there are plants surviving far worse situations than this. All things considered, I think I have it pretty easy over here."
I mouthed empty motions at first, stunned by the little plant. "Well aren't you lonely, at the very least? You have no other plant friends here, no one to talk to, no one to pass the time with. Surely that must hurt?"
A brief pause, then, "I have you, for now. I think it's wonderful enough just to experience a friendship like this for a little while."
"We're friends?" I asked, immediately biting my lip.
"I think so. You may be leaving very shortly, but a few beautiful moments are enough to make a life worth living for, in my opinion. That's why I fight so hard to survive in a place like this--because, even if it's a struggle sometimes, there are things I'd never get to experience if I weren't here. I won't let go of that."
I wanted to respond, but something welled up within me and I couldn't muster the words. They choked in my throat, sank to my stomach, and I stood there in shaky silence.
"Oh, look at that," the little weed said, giddy as can be. "What a perfect day. It's even raining a little bit, now."
"Yeah," I whispered, wiping my eyes. "It is a perfect day, isn't it?"
---
*/r/resonatingfury* | People have always treated Gordon like he was different. Even his own family treated him like he was something they’d accidentally stepped in, when his carer wasn’t looking. It wasn’t his fault. The only time he got into real trouble with his little sister, was when he ran out of paper to draw on, and so he went into her office looking for more.
How was he meant to know that the papers in the folders were special? They were blank on the back, and he’d drawn a picture of her with her pet tiger as a thank you for the paper. The tiger seemed to like it. Gordon had been using Justin’s stomach for a cushion the whole time he’d been drawing, and the tiger hadn’t once tried to stop him.
But his sister hadn’t liked his gift. She was mean and she shouted at him and she chased him. Fortunately, he was used to being chased, and he knew how to hide to avoid being hurt. Which was why he’d found his way out of her building even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to leave until his other sister, the Lady got back from where she healed people to take him back home.
It was noisy here. People talked and vehicles made bad sounds and even worse smells. There was nothing green here. Most people were smaller than him, but he’d learned how to get out of the way.
The chokehold he had on his oversized teddy bear gave him the strength to keep going. He’d heard the family talking about what they did during the day, and while most of it didn’t make sense, he’d thought he could find the Lady because there had only been one healing house wherever he’d gone, and the smell of the dying always gave those places away.
But this place was huge, and every building looked the same. He started walking backwards, and then sideways, trying to get his bearings, knowing he was on the brink of tears. Where was the green? Green was his friend. Green shared secrets with him and didn’t treat him badly.
Something even bigger than the noisy machines roared past, covering him in thick grey smoke.
And that was when he did start to cry. He wanted to go home.
“Oh, man,” he thought he heard, but when he turned around, people were just everywhere. “Sucker.”
He turned again, recognising the voice as some element of green. “Where are you?” he asked, searching the ground and the walls for whatever had spoken. If he found green, he wouldn’t be alone.
“Wait, you can hear me? Holy sweet ever-loving thank you, Jesus! Hey, You! You with the big teddy bear! Over here! That’s it! Follow the sound of my voice, you big, beautiful lump of … dang, you are a big guy, aren’cha…?” Gordon did just that, crossing the footpath to a ratty alleyway that stank even worse than the street.
“Where are you?” he asked, still searching for the elusive source of green.
“Hey, hey! Back here! You’ve gone too far! I’m here, between the dumpster wheel and the wall. C’mon, man! Open your eyes! Y’ can’t miss me!”
Gordon had no idea what a ‘dumpster’ was, but as the only thing in the alleyway with wheels was the big box that really smelled bad, he went back to the side that could see down the front of the alleyway, where he’d been.
“I’m Gordon,” he said, for he’d been taught to say that first and foremost, so the family would know who they were dealing with. Or rather, weren’t.
“Good to know, my man. So, how are you hearing me anyway?”
“I hear green. Green is my friend.”
“Riiiight,” the tiny weed roughly the size of Gordon’s hand drawled. But then it seemed to wake up to itself, for it quickly changed its tune. “Listen, Gordon. Pal. Buddy. Any chance of you doing me a solid?”
“Wha..?..”
“What?” the weed asked back. Then it seemed to groan. “Are you kidding me right now? The only guy I’ve ever met who speaks to plants, and he doesn’t understand basic New Yorker.”
Gordon had heard that tone enough to know he didn’t like it and rose to his feet. “You’re mean,” he said with a pout.
“Hey, hey, hey. Kid! Kiddo! I take it back. I’m sorry. C’mon, I’m just joshin’ with ya. Y’ know. Buddies, laughin’ things off? Ha-ha and stuff?”
The plant even tried to laugh unconvincingly, but it was still the only green Gordon had found so far, so he squatted back down again, though he still frowned to show the plant he wasn’t happy. Frowning he knew how to do. His other brothers and sisters did it all the time.
“Right,” the plant said, sighing now that that near disaster had been averted. “Okay, simple terms, for the simple guy. Got it. Do. You. Know. Where. Central. Park. Is?”
Gordon had heard the others speak of it in passing, but other than that, he shook his head.
“Okay, how about any other parks? You know, lots of greenery and flowers and stuff?”
“You’re the first green I found,” Gordon replied earnestly.
“Well, crap,” the plant swore. “I was gonna get you to move me roots and all to one of the parks where I could stake a claim amongst a whole wall of flowers. I likes me the pretties.”
“You could come with us,” Gordon offered.
“You know how to pull me out without breakin’ my roots?”
“Sure. You’re green.”
“Well, alrighty then. Let’s get this show on the road, man.” Gordon paused with his hands outstretched and looked at the weed. He’d never seen a weed sigh before. “It means let’s go, big guy. Holy crap. Dressed as swanky as you are and missing a few marbles topside, someone’s gotta be missing you.”
“They are,” Gordon said, with absolute authority. Maybe they weren’t yet, but they would be soon.
“Alright. Nice n’ easy, pal. My roots are tough, but sensitive.”
Gordon eased the plant out, then dug out with his fingers the small amount of soil it had been growing in. He put both in his breast pocket and smiled at the way it made him look grown up. “Alright pal. Giddy-up.”
“What?”
“Just go. Go!”
Gordon walked with his bear in front of him, using the large toy as a shield between him and the population of New York. He watched as people shook their heads at him, but no one seemed interested in him, and with his new friend, he set off, in whatever direction his feet happened to be pointing in.
​
((Any comments welcome))
​
ps: I hadn't intended on keeping this one going, but since people have requested it, we'll see how long the ride lasts. The link to this as a serial is
[TO BE CONTINUED...](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/f65fbv/a_celestial_wars_spinoff_gordons_adventure_in_the/)
And I'll put part two up within the next day or so.
update: Make that, right now :D Enjoy!
​
For more of my work: [r/Angel466](https://www.reddit.com/r/Angel466/) | 2020-02-18T06:14:45 | 2020-02-18T05:59:48 | 1,828 | 296 |
[WP] As it turns out, humanity is the single most pyromaniacal and explosion-happy species in the entire galaxy. This quickly gets us something of a Reputation... | Pyromaniac that's what they called me when they tried to vent me out of an airlock into space. The moment i stepped off of the shuttle into the station simply for bringing my old golden lighter on board with me. Slowly the flames licked at the merchant union's headquarters the same one run by the galactic peacekeepers. A group of average citizens in dirt ragged clothing and cheering and shooting any survivors running out of the building.
Back to the subject at hand of course I claimed my lighter was a religious item and the xenophobic ass hats had to let me have it or break regulation. Now then having someone try to take a lighter from you is not a good enough reason to burn down a building with its occupants still inside. However I can attest that this was put into motion a long time before I ever set foot off of earth.
You see it all started when a peacekeeper vessel found earth and demanded tribute. Not your regular material tribute mind you they needed workers specifically unpaid workers do you see where this going don't you. Another thunders crack echoing breaking my train of thought as several figures ran out of the building only to drop dead onto the steel flooring on the camera feed. A bloody survivor quickly dragged along toward the dark corridor beyond kicking and screaming quite violently.
.
There are a lot of things that the Peacekeepers will never understand about the true nature of fire. They see it as an nearly unstoppable, destructive force to be stopped at any and all cost but that to us at least is far from the truth. You see fire is a cleansing force in nature Yes it destroys but it leaves behind something far more vital rebirth.
Entropy, death whatever you like to call it is the same as fire inevitably it always happens despite your best efforts. Just like let's say a rebellion in a loosely connected empire spanning the universe built on subservience. Of course I would akin it to a forest full of dead and rotting trees just ready for a spark or simply a massive powder keg.
When I volunteered for the call for servitude they gave every single last person the same items. Three sets of long red robes and a collection of religious items from the brand new government funded church of the Phoenix. A religious text and guerrilla warfare guide rolled into one and a single religious item a rather complex electrical lighter.
.
Small flames danced from the golden lighter cupped within my hands any number of seemingly endless possible outcomes and possibilities. But amongst all of the teachings that the flame has given us that the federals know even instinctively it is this one lesson. *Fire can be dangerous and so can the flames of inevitable rebellion* | Light a match. Drop it. See the fire. Enjoy it. Cause an Explosion. Witness it. This is our existence. This is my Existence. I have no name. I am only fire.
Fire was crouching behind some barrels of hyper fuel. She has the right side of her head shaved with long green hair. She is dressed like any other fire starter, and has a matchbox tattooed on her right hand. She was lean, and has a scar through her left eyebrow, she looked all in all like someone you wouldn't want to find behind you in an alley.
She peaks over the barrels, looking at something in the distance. Two humanoid forms in the distance were standing beneath a spaceship. The ship was black but reflected light of the three moons above. There are several other docked ships around, but no others have the humanoids out front. They look to be conversing about something.
"50ft, easy" she murmurs to herself.
Fire is waiting for something. Her eyes never breaking from looking at the two humanoids. One of the forms started to walk away, the other quickly pulled something from inside of itself and shot at the other humanoid with some type of blaster
"There we go." fire thinks to herself.
Fire in her dark clothes silently creeps over the barrels and started to crawl towards the humanoid. She moved slowly and purposefully.
The humanoid that shot walks towards the one they shot and away from fire. They kneel down. Pick something up and begin to walk back.
Fire moves to a crouch and continues moving towards the humanoid. She throws a rock in front of the humanoid, who turns around. She effortlessly moves up behind him and hits him over the head with a stun rod. The humanoid falls to the ground seemingly unconscious.
Fire chuckles quietly, "too easy".
She reaches down to grab something from the unconscious form beneath her, then straightens up and heads toward the ship. A loud beep sounds comes out of the ship and the entry ramp opens up shedding light on her and accepting her into its embrace. As she begins to walk up the entry ramp the form she knocked out behind her crawls into the light.
His face is green, has fish like characteristics, and he seems to have gills and lungs, breathing from both. He coughs up some blue blood and with it manages to cough out some words, "The fuck, are you?"
Fire stops halfway up the ramp, looks around and takes something out of her pocket. She looks down at her hand, laughs, and says back to the being "I'm just fire." Then she tosses the now flashing object towards the being.
He coughs out "Fucking humans."
Fire quickly takes off in the ship, laughing to herself, and looks down through the window to the explosion below her. Its bright flash was nothing she hadn't seen before, but she always enjoyed explosions and their warmth. She wasn't just laughing anymore; she was cackling with glee as the explosions spread through the dock destroying ship after ship.
Fire looks at her reflection in the window with the explosions below, winks at herself, and then wonders out loud "So who's next?" | 2020-03-15T15:10:11 | 2020-03-15T14:23:19 | 39 | 24 |
[WP] Upon dying you challenge Death to game of chess, choosing to play despite the warnings not to. Unfortunately you've won and soon find out you should have heeded Deaths warning. | “Checkmate in two.”
The words still ring in my ears every now and then. At the time it felt so satisfying; success against all odds, besting the supernatural.
“Think carefully about your next move, mortal one.” The words, like a cool sea breeze on a hot Summer’s night, whispered from under the dark hood. I would not be lulled into a false sense of security. I took my time and examined the ethereal figure in front of me, wanting to cherish the moment forever. The moon glinted off the scythe propped up against the back of his chair and brought me back to the present.
“Check, checkmate in one” I said as I moved my Rook into place.
Death reached out his hand, lifting the ornate Black King in between his skeletal middle- and index-finger. Maybe it was the combination of the white on black, or perhaps it was the luminescent lunar glow, but the bones looked almost… pure.
He placed the King in the only uncontested square that was left.
For all the stories and folk lore, there was no stench of decomposition. His aura was not of a deep sense of foreboding or the inevitable. It was more like being able to relax after a long day. Like the feeling just before you go to sleep in your own bed for the first time after a long journey. He was welcoming me home.
“Checkmate.” The piece practically said the word for me as the Ivory Knight clicked against the glass board.
He didn’t say anything else, he just stood, unceremoniously picked up his scythe and walked away. My eyes following his dark outline fading into the misty night.
Yes, that fateful game is still clear in my memory, even from all those years ago. I lived the rest of my allotted time and then some. Eons past a time even the wildest imagination could comprehend, I understand now.
The chess set is still where Death left it, and that’s where I sit.
All the time in the world and nobody left to play with. | My victory with Death was bittersweet, I was warned by Death himself that winning may not be the wisest option. I ignored him all the same and won my life back, but things were never the same.
When I awoke in my bed the next morning it all seemed like a bad dream, it didn't take long however to realize my skin was pale as if I had spent all my life in darkness, food tasted like ash and water like hot acid. A small price to pay for my life back I thought, but that wasn't all that had changed.
Following my daily routine I headed to work around the same time my neighbor left her apartment, I always liked her and tried to leave at the same time just for a small chance to talk to her. I could immediately tell my new pale appearance was unsettling and when I noticed her rush towards the stairs instead of waiting patiently at the elevator like she normally does, I think that signaled the end of our friendly, flirty morning chatter.
Reaching my boring call center job was no different, I was ignored and blended in with the rest of the employee's just desperately holding on until their shift was over. Another downside of cheating death seemed to also be my enthusiasm, I could no longer even pretend like what I was selling was good. It was all boring and useless junk no one wanted and I didn't want to sell it. My compassion had completely faded, its like I wanted to kill everyone on the phone.. they were all stupid and wouldn't stop talking if only they were there I could strangle them and make them stop.
My boss called me into his office, immediately going off the script in his head of how to be kind yet also tell me I'm doing a crap job. He didn't comment on my appearance which was nice however I think its because he didn't even know what I looked like before this meeting.
It was hard to focus, his annoying voice drowned out like the water in a shower and all I could focus on was how sweaty he was, it was fairly hot but his skin seemed to almost glisten from it.. and it was oddly alluring. I couldn't eat toast so I had skipped breakfast but to think skin looked.. delicious? I guess another downside.
After painstakingly sitting through more calls I finally got home and my stomach was killing me, I was so hungry but I couldn't eat anything. When I thought about it the only thing that looked eatable was my boss' flesh. But eating human flesh, that's wrong isn't it? but I guess in some places of the world its okay even celebrated so maybe it'd be okay if I did it too.
I guess I already ruined my relationship with my neighbor, maybe I could just take an arm or leg? | 2020-04-08T07:19:48 | 2020-04-08T06:10:29 | 43 | 15 |
[WP] A global, standardised test taken at 13 determines the career of everyone on the planet. The big day comes and you get your results back, only to learn you might have the hardest job ever given through this system: you have to redesign the test. | "I've never seen this before" said Mrs Mitchell, and swung her screen around to face me, "so we're going to put you in for a bit of everything for the rest of your time with us. Statistics-"
"Maths? But I'm rubbish at -"
"Yes, statistics. Psychology, biology, history, politics, ethics-"
"What about art, can I do art?"
"Yes, that'll fit. The requirements for admission to the test design courses are quite broad". Mrs Mitchell looked from the screen to me, and smiled. "I'm impressed, Alex, if you'd asked me what I predicted for you, it wouldn't have been this. The program must see something in you".
I tried to return the smile.
"Don't be nervous, the testers work very hard to design this process. There's an awful lot of data, a lot of evidence going into this. It's far better than the old system, far better than chance and family pressure, or choosing on a whim"
"You know, this isn't, I mean this test. I didn't, it's not-"
Mrs Mitchell handed me a printout which I took automatically. "It's normal to be overwhelmed by the more unusual results. Now you take that, and have a look, and we can finalise everything next week, ok? Next week's session is Tuesday, 11.35, ok? You have a think, and come back to me then with any questions, then we can get this all locked in for next year"
I nodded. I had a lot of questions.
I left Mrs Mitchell's office and walked slowly to my form room. Everyone with a surname higher in the alphabet that mine would already be in there - commiserating, discussing, celebrating. What was I going to say? There was no putting it off, unless I did another lap of the school building, or hid in the toilets. Deep breath. I watched my hand open the door, as if it belonged to someone else.
"Alex! What did you get?" said someone.
There was no way out of this one "I, ah, test designer?" I said, almost not believing it. One of the other students took the printout from my hand and everyone gathered around them to look. Everyone except Sam.
"Show me yours" I said, grabbing the printout from Sam's hand.
"Mate," said Sam quietly "Test designer?"
"Yeah, listen, we've got to talk to Mrs Mitchell, we can go now-"
"No way" said Sam, "There's no way. I'm not going to swap you back"
I looked down at Sam's printout, at the results that were rightfully mine. That couldn't be right. That couldn't be my fate. "You're a fucking astronaut?" I said | I sat staring at the LED's of my computer screen, frozen and transfixed by the simple email imploring me to redesign the test. I thought with my years of programming experience I would be selected to work with software, perhaps for Peach or Macrohard. I had grown up at my desk, typing away lines of code, while many kids played soccer, or danced I was in another world, designing smaller worlds.
I was assigned a group of team members primarily consisting of programmers like myself but with a handful of teachers, doctors, engineers and other specialists of all kinds. I was to oversee them all and create a new test.
Dreaming of this day as a small child, I would play in the sandbox imaging tests like building bridges to cross rivers or saving the distressed heroine from a monster. I'd sculpt the sand in a mucky mess into castles and fun to find the garden hose to start the "rainy season".
As I got older I began working on the creation of a small open world game where you could complete basic tasks like going to the store, talking to other players and driving cars. It wasn't much but now I had a team of experts under my command.
The test I had passed to gain the job as test re-designer was of a past generation. A group of 60 or 70 of my peers would met in a series of cabins around a central larger cabin.
\---------------------------------------------------The Recent Past--------------------------------------------------------------
I was surrounded by my peers in the cafeteria with large old wooden beams holding the roof in place, people in default Guy Fawkes type masks held out their hands and lead us into the a room adjoining the cafeteria of the largest cabin. Their warm hands comforting as the faded blue curtain was pulled away to reveal a pitch black room.
I was led to and placed in a solitary chair, unable to see my hand in front of my face when suddenly a light illuminated the stage with a single individual sitting, holding a paper reading a script. In monotone the speaker dutifully read.
"This is the start of the test, your actions will be monitored..."
The speaker droned on for ages before we were dismissed and led by more adults in Guy Fawkes masks to smaller cabins. Our larger group was split into smaller groups, we were all shook by what was to come. It was finally time, it was the test!
The cabin was blacked out and we sat, a single member lit a candle. Individually we shared our life stories, where we had come from and what we experienced.
With feedback from letters mailed in from parents, coaches, peers and teachers as well as the experiences and dialogue in the cabin were assigned our jobs.
\------------------------------------------------------The Present --------------------------------------------------------
I was ambitious. My plan was to build my simple "life simulator" into a totally immersive world where kids would grow up and live a full, and accelerated, life. If they were successful in their careers, functional members of society, they would gain the same job in reality, if not, well.., they would go through the test again, until finding a suitable path.
\------------------------------------------------------The Future---------------------------------------------------------
It was all working so well until the simulation became unresponsive, the mini universe had developed its own access to the source code, designing a back door and locking out the designers. Luckily I had a secured spectator seat that they could not access. I watched as a self contained digital world developed, entirely autonomously. I had created the first intelligent life, in a computer simulation. I had become a God! | 2020-07-05T02:35:15 | 2020-07-04T23:05:06 | 83 | 28 |
[WP] You're in your fifth seemingly endless Zoom meeting of the day. Without thinking, you mutter "this is Hell." As everyone around you freezes, you realize that you forgot to mute yourself. The host's eyes begin to glow as he announced, "He noticed." | "Oh, thank *Lucifer*! He noticed. Alright team, that's a wrap. Great meeting. Thank you for your time. I'll move forward with the candidate here offline and will loop you in on his progress."
The call participants logged off and the screen went black. I'm sitting in a tiny, nondescript office with manila folder-yellow walls and puke colored carpets. The buzzing overhead florescent light makes the room appear over saturated and surreal. I have no idea how I got here.
My head hurts, like two hot fire pokers are jammed in my brain. It feels like something is moving under my scalp. Reaching up, I feel two protrusions of bone poking out of my skull.
Those are new.
There's a knock at the door, and a simultaneous faux-cheerful voice saying, "knock-knock."
The door swings open and a demon walks in. His eyes are glowing and his horns massive and fiery, but his fashion sense is horrible. He wears dingy brown shoes and a cheap sports jacket over a black button up. One of the buttons is missing.
"Hey there, hi there. I'm you host and sponsor, Baphomet and I'm here to help make your transition as smooth and efficient as possible. Let me be the first to say, welcome to the Hell Corp Management team!"
"Management? Wait, where the hell am I?"
"Correct," said the demon.
"What?"
"Your identification of our current location is correct. As you said before, in the Zoom meeting: this is Hell. Though, after corporate re-branding a few decades ago, it's now Hell Corp, or Hell Corporation LLC if you want to be technical. Try to stick to that, we want to send a unified message to our *clientele*."
"Wait. I... I don't get it. How can I be in Hell--"
"Hell CORP."
"Whatever, how can I be in Hell Corp? I'm not dead! I was just in a Zoom meeting! What happened to the Zoom meeting I've been stuck in all day?"
"1,317 days, actually," said the demon.
"What?"
"That's how long you were in the meeting. That's actually pretty short, all things considered. Most people *never* leave the meeting. This wing of Hell Corp is full of cubicles of people stuck in meetings for all eternity. It's the big guy's punishment for those who spent their mortal days caring more about their jobs than their lives."
I stared dumbfounded.
"Look, I know this is a lot, but time is limited and I've got a Safety Meeting at 06:66 so we're gonna have to make this quick. The Zoom meeting is punishment, yes, but it's also a test. Those that show initiative... those who recognize where they are and what's going on, well... they're rare. The boss has use for people like that. So, congratulations, you've earned a promotion.
Now if you'll follow me right this way, I'll give you the tour of Hell Corp campus. We'll be passing through the financial district of Dis before heading out to the Lower Purgatory Suburbs. Beyond that is the Sheol countryside, where I hear the Sulphur Hot Springs are to die for. Again. Oh and, word of advice while you're in the city: Steer clear of The Abyss–that's the pub on Styx Street. They'd eat you alive in there. If you weren't... ya know... Already dead. No, you seem more like a Lake of Fire kind of guy, you can find that on Hades Avenue right next to the giant statue of Beelzebub."
And so began my career as middle management for Hell Corporation.
/r/Dariuspilgrim | Hell is a hallway with two conference rooms.
The first is over-conditioned. The hum of fans is overbearing as cool conditioned air blasts through vents in the ceiling. Cobwebs billow and you wonder when the last time they dusted. In the corner is a dispenser with plastic-tasting water. They have a handful of pixie cups in the dispenser. It smells like whiteboard markers.
You can sit in the only chair provided. It is padded but still hard on the small of your back, digging into the spine. “Ergonomic” but that word has long lost its meaning when there is nothing else to compare it to.
In your mind: memories of cushioned chairs, padded leather, carpet underfoot. The recliner groans as you lay back, reach for the mug of coffee, smell the blend of roasted vanilla and caramel and it drips foam down the side, the little heart is drawn in foam, but you couldn’t draw it, you’re not artistic..
You try to push the memories away. This is no place for them. Memoires only serve to drag you back down the hallway, back to the other conference room.
Hell is a hallway with two rooms. The first is work and meetings and endless boredom. You work in seven-hour shifts on meaningless tasks. The computer glitches. Management changes the project scope. Your work goes unnoticed.
The second room is a memory.
After each shift ends, the door to the second room opens. In wafts the scent of fresh-clipped grass, the warm of bedsheets on a cool winter storm, the gush of watermelon in a sweet summer picnic. You see the memory through the shades of tinted glass. The door is ajar. You can step through, and if you do, you’ll be brought back for a moment. You will step into your own, into the world you once lived, and the moment will no longer be a memory—it will be real.
But when your break ends, fifteen minutes of bliss, you will be drawn back into the hallway. The door will shut. The work never ends, it only begins again.
Most people step through the door at every chance. They can’t take the monotony. They need the relief: to feel the cool of sand on a beach, the kiss of a lover’s lips, the frisbee slipping through their fingers. They need these moments to stay sane.
The trick is to never, at any point, enter the break room.
Some find out slowly, some quickly. Sometimes it takes one-hundred years. Sometimes it only takes one to find the truth, the horrible truth of this hell: You can relive your life in memories, but only once. Once the moment is gone, it is gone forever, and you can never, ever get the moment back.
It tempts like the most addicting drug: memories.
Her hand in yours, steps on the beach, walking towards the umbrella. The dog padding behind you, shaking seawater and you laughing, covered in sand, grab her hand, and pull her towards you, pull her into your arms, falling together…
You can never have this moment again.
It is lost, only a memory.
So you stare at the open door and witness, through faint sights and smell, the relief you cannot have. You know the moment. Mowing grass in the dim of dawn, and she will open the front door with a fresh cup of coffee, walk sultry towards you, and you will take her hand, look into her eyes. The mower runs out of gas...
But you can’t.
*You can’t.*
Back turned, you walk back to the conference. Sip stale water. Five minutes pass. Ten. The break is over, and the work begins anew, and you curse, punch walls, grit your teeth, and wonder what you have done to deserve this. And this is your own personal hell, the darkest temptation made from the most innocent moments.
Hell is a hallway with two conference rooms.
And it is a hell of your choice, every moment, you understand that this is a hell you make for yourself, knowing that one day the temptation will be too great, the memory too sweet to resist. Until there is nothing left. And then, Hell will be a hallway with two conference rooms: one opens in seven-hours shifts, and the other, you have shut forever, made from wasted memories.
You pray for the strength to resist.
It’s all that you can do.
***
More Stories at r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | 2020-09-17T09:03:43 | 2020-09-17T08:42:48 | 125 | 68 |
[WP] When you die you go to hell, only to find out you can gamble your soul on a coin flip for a brand new life or damning 500,000 more souls to the underworld. You’ve been doing this for 2000 years, winning and beginning a new life every time... you show up at the devils throne once again. | "Hello again Lucifer!"
For a soul on the edge of eternal suffering, it sure seemed nonchalant about it. Lucifer eyed it suspiciously. It looked liked every other soul that passed through his doors and yet it spoke to him as if he were an old friend.
"You must have taken the gamble before."
Lucifer always offered every soul entering his domain a chance to redeem their life. A simple coin toss. If they won, they would be reborn but if they lost, their selfishness would condemn countless souls to his realm.
Most refused the offer, thinking it be a test of character, that if they accepted their fate they would be sent over to heaven instead. Lucifer enjoyed seeing their hopes dashed once he sent them on their way to the incinerator.
Others took the gamble and sometimes it paid off although rarely did they succeed twice.
The soul before Lucifer now held his hand outstretched towards him expectantly.
"I offer you the chance-"
"Yes please, give me the coin!"
Lucifer rarely got interrupted, much less from a worthless soul. His favorite part was always explaining the dire consequences resulting from failing the game and now this insignificant lifeform was depriving him of that.
All souls arrived in this plane dressed as they were upon death. It helped settle their mind in their new surroundings.
Taking a closer look at the newly arrived visitor. Lucifer saw indication that this one knew what to expect.
He was dressed as plainly as one could. Jeans and shirt. No shoes or accessories that could be seen.
The only way into hell after his gamble was through THE incinerator. Burning all their worldly possessions and bodies was the first step to neverending demise.
Dressed as he was, this soul was unlikely to feel much pain during the burning.
This soul had clearly been through this process many times before and had everything figured out it seemed.
Lucifer didn't see the point of delaying the inevitable. This soul may have won before but he would lose this time.
Reaching in a bucket beside his thorny throne, Lucifer tossed the man a golden coin.
No sooner had the man caught the coin that he collapsed on the floor, seemingly overcome with emotions.
"Rise and toss the coin. Your fate awaits."
Lucifer was starting to get impatient. If this soul wanted to hurry the process along why was he acting so oddly.
Regaining his feet, the soul looked right at lucifer while tossing the coin in the air. The coin flipped between its two sides. One side with a heart, the other with flames.
The coin hadn't even reached its apex when the soul turned around and walked towards the exit.
Lucifer made no move to stop him. Pulling him back at the last minute would satisfy his desire to make the soul suffer.
As the coin fell to the ground and the heart was shown, Lucifer roared with rage but let the soul return to life.
Unable to contain his fury, he leap from the throne and picked up the coin. As he suspected, the coin was weighed differently. The man had switched the coin and tricked him!
Lucifer vowed he would be the one to throw the coin from now on. | I was leading my oxen through the crowded streets of Rome, heading toward the market at which I hoped to sell my most prized specimen for a hefty sum. Suddenly there came shouting from the senate house. It was muffled. Its words were indistinct.
"Julius Caesar is dead!" cried one man, closer to me than the original shouter.
A panic swept through the crowd as the terrible refrain was repeated, again and again. Many were in disbelief, at first. It seemed impossible that the godlike man, whom tens of thousands of savages in Gaul could not kill, would now die in the city over which he ruled. But as some men began moaning, and women fell to their knees to weep, the terrible reality started to set in. The formerly peaceful collection of distinct individuals became that ugly, unified creature known as a mob. With the passion and energy of a disorderly mob, people began pushing and shoving. Voices grew more worried until they reached a frantic pitch. Finally, the simmering roil of passions boiled over, and absolute chaos broke loose. I and my oxen were carried along with the stampede, like twigs by a strong current, charging toward the senate house. The ground was uneven. I fell on my back. I turned around to see the massive hoof of one of my hefty beasts descending upon my head.
That was how I died the first time. My vision went black. The sounds and smells of the only city I had ever known receded. Like boiling water poured through a sieve, the pain flowed from my face, through my head and out the back. And though I was still "I" - that is, a self, a consciousness, an awareness, I was little more than the nothing by which I was surrounded, almost indistinguishable from it, like a small crease in the fabric of the void that needed only to be ironed out to be utterly annihilated.
Gradually, some of my senses returned. Some of the boundaries that separated me from the nothing became more distinct. I was a body without flesh. But still a body. And I was falling. Falling toward what? Toward heat. Toward a dim red light, growing brighter. And then in a flash like a fireball I was there, lying on the hot stone floor, surrounded by torches and fireplaces burning furiously, but silently.
What a terrible, magisterial temple, I thought, as I squinted down the black hall. What a hot, uncomfortable dream.
In the distance was a massive throne, on which sat a giant creature, like a black lizard, with the curling horns of a goat, and yet the face of man. He sat casually in his throne, like a tyrant bored with his power and yet still addicted to the sadistic pleasure he got from exercising it. In his reptilian hand he held a golden scepter that glimmered in the firelight. Standing before the creature, dwarfed by his immensity, stood a man robed in a purple toga.
The haughty stance, the regal color of his attire - it was Caesar himself!
As I lifted myself from the floor and began walking toward my Consul and the demon with whom he was consorting, I saw the demon hand something to him. Caesar flicked it into the air, and the golden coin flashed as it slowly rotated, rising and falling and finally landing in Caesar's hand. Caesar looked down at his palm, in which his fate lay written. The devil smiled. Through the floor reached a pale, thin arm. Its long fingers wrapped around Caesar's ankle. And as Caesar shouted, "This is preposterous. A rigged game! My destiny in the hands of shriveled old bats! My future" - he was dragged into the floor.
"Now," cooed the Devil, looking up at me. "Now it is your turn."
\[...\] | 2020-11-24T12:35:02 | 2020-11-24T12:24:57 | 133 | 48 |
[WP] You're a disembodied consciousness who wakes up every day in a new body. Today, for the first time, you wake up in the same body as yesterday. | The clock stuck 6 AM and I woke up, a bit groggy as usual. The room seemed familiar. I picked up the phone on the table next to me and opened up the front camera.
Wait. This was impossible.
I had been jumping bodies for years now, always waking up in a new one. This was a first. I had once again woken up in the body of Ralph Sampson. I looked around the room, feeling a sense of déjà vu wash over me.
The feeling got even stronger as the phone rang. Unless Ralph’s friend, David, called him at the same time everyday, something was very very wrong.
I answered the call, going over the same conversation I had with him yesterday. I hung up and unlocked the phone. Then I saw the date and fell back onto the bed. What did all of this mean?
Just like yesterday, I texted Ralph’s boss about not feeling well and taking a day off. I know the boss will reply back in about twenty minutes telling me to take care. And then at 11:30 he’d text me to ask me about the TekSystems file.
I had to think about this. I had always woken up in a new body every day so what was different? Was it me? Ralph? Was he somehow special?
I was so used to spending the first few hours of waking up trying to figure out who I was for the next 24 hours, that I started going through Ralph’s phone and documents without thinking about it.
As the day went by predictably, I became more and more relaxed. Maybe it was just a glitch. This caused me to laugh. Me, whose whole life was a glitch. Either way, Ralph was rich. He had a comfortable life. If I had to, I wouldn’t mind spending my entire life in his body.
I let the day pass. David called to check up on Ralph. He seemed satisfied with my lies. He reminded me to take my medicine, which I did. I put on the tv and...
*****
The clock stuck six and I woke up, a bit groggy as usual. The room was familiar. What was going on? David called again to ask if I’d be joining him for coffee. I excused myself just like the last 2 days.
I had gotten used to waking up in a new body everyday but reliving the same day over and over?
The day passed by exactly as the last time.
When David called to check up on me, I asked him over. I had never told anyone before about my ... my situation. But I needed help. I needed to figure out what was going on.
David came over soon.
“Ralph? Are you ok?”
“Yes. Well Ralph is ok but I...”
“Did you take your medicine, Ralph?”
“No David listen. I’m not Ralph. I’m someone else.”
“Relax man. You should really take your medicine.”
I looked at David, and something about his expression stuck me.
“David, I don’t want my medicine.”
“No! You must. You have to.”
“David. I need you to go now. I need you to leave.”
“Not before you take your meds. Clearly you need them.”
I stood up. “Get out of here. Now.”
He stood up, taking a gun out of his jacket pocket. “You’ve ruined enough of my life Ralph. You took my girl. You took my promotion. I’ve had enough now. You need to take your medicine. Or I’ll shoot you right now.”
“Fine. Please don’t shoot.”
I took the bottle of pills and opened it up. He looked like a wolf, a predatory smile on his face.
I threw the pills at him, using the surprise to lunge at him.
The gun went off and smoke filled the room.
***
I woke up, a bit groggy as usual. I looked around the room. No view of the city. No massive tv to wake up to. Life was back to normal. As normal as it could be for me.
I walked into work later that day.
I stood in a dimly lit room with a fellow cop looking at Ralph sitting in the interrogation room.
“What are you talking about?”
“Just trust me on this.”
“The gun was on him. The body was in his apartment. He was there. And his story by the way is that he remembers nothing of yesterday. It’s a slam dunk.”
“Well Jackson, just humour me. Test the pills. For some reason, I trust this guy. Trauma can cause loss of memory on occasion. I have a feeling that the dead guy attacked him and it was self defense.”
“Well fine. I’ll check it out. But in my opinion, the guy’s guilty.”
Jackson was a good cop. When he started digging, there was no stopping him. He would find evidence about the truth eventually. Sure Ralph would probably never remember all of yesterday, all three version of those, but he should be able to avoid jail.
Dying before 24 hours was complete and I transferred bodies. There was a first thing for everything I suppose. | Dying fabulously rich has its perks. One of them is you never die. Not in today’s world at least. My consciousness has been uploaded to a memory Silo. People don’t realize the complexity of the human consciousness. How many resources are required to maintain a fully functional Silo. There are very few people in the world who can afford it. The CEO of Sylon Deep Space mining can.
Well, I’m retired now, but I still have a controlling share.
Each day a synthetic body is 3D printed for me. My consciousness is uploaded, and I go on my way and have my fun. At the end of the day my new memories are uploaded, and my old body recycled. The synthetics are… still in development stage. It’s not perfect. But the promise of immortality comes at a price. A small price, in my opinion, to escape the clutch of oblivion.
Some of the Immortals stay within their Silo. The risk is too great for them. You see, the synthetics only last for a maximum of 72 hours before they begin to break down. The risk of corruption to your upload is high. With enough corruption comes complete annihilation.
It’s worth it to me. I didn’t become the second richest man in the inner planets by forgoing risk. Besides, I gotta be on the move. I gotta have air in my lungs. Real air. Real sun. Real sky. Real women. No, I’d never live just within my Silo. I’d rather be dead.
* ​
I step out of the syncing machine naked as the day I was born. I step up to the mirror and look at myself. If you didn’t know what you were looking for, you’d think I was a perfect physical specimen of a 28-year-old male. Not a 176-year-old ghost in the machine. I nod approvingly at what I see. It really is a work of art what my team has done.
I’m dressed and out the door in fifteen minutes. My private jet is waiting for me. When you only got a day in a body, you make the most of it. Every minute counts.
I step out into the sun and feel the warmth on me. After 176 years it still has never gotten old. I stretch and shout out to the sky. Life is great. This is going to be an easy, carefree day and I’ll be home before dusk to re-upload and recycle.
Yes, it’s going to be a good day.
* ​
Two hours later and I’m laying on a beach in Miami letting the sun roast my synthetic skin, enjoying the life of it all as I watch the crowds move past. Some stop, mostly kids who haven’t seen an Immortal before. I smile at them and this seems to frighten them, and they scurry off to their families.
After a while I get up and walk to the water. I wave off my attachment of bodyguards and wade into the water and take long strokes as I cut my way over rising waves. I swim until my arms burn and start to feel heavy. I don’t remember what it used to feel like when my muscles got tired. When I was in my original body. I’ve been in synthetics longer than I was organically alive. This thought makes me feel anxious and I flip on my back and start floating my way back to shore.
I’m not trying very hard though. I’m really enjoying the silence and the blue sky above me and the lapping of the water along the line of my face. This peace is interrupted though when I hear the sound of an engine and I look up and see a slick black boat only a few yards away as it kills the engine and floats towards me. Three men are in the boat and they look towards shore and then back at me. Their faces are indifferent and for a second, I think they are just checking on me. That’s before I feel the sting in my shoulder and see a small dart protruding from it.
My muscles start to feel really heavy at this point and I feel I’m going to sink to the bottom of the ocean. One of them throws a rope around me and drags me to the boat and pulls me out of the ocean like a paralyzed marlin. I try to speak but nothing comes out and the bright Florida sun begins to dim, then goes out completely.
* ​
When I awake, I’m tied to a chair, and the first thought in my mind is: what time is it? How long have I been out? A fear courses through my body and makes me feel cold. I look down at my synthetic skin and I can see it is already starting to change colors. I’ve never woken up in the same body as yesterday and I don’t like the feeling. I look around and the room is dark.
“Hello!” I shout and I hear no answer. But after a few minutes there are footsteps. High heels. A woman steps into the room.
“Hello, Mr. Kroft,” the woman says. Her voice is soft and polite, and I recognize it. She move from behind the shadows and close to me and I’m not surprised when I see Joanne standing above me, smiling apologetically.
Joanne has been the CEO of Sylon for that past fifteen years. She’s been the most ambitious of all the CEO’s I’ve hired over the last one hundred years and I owe a lot of my wealth to her. But why she is standing over me now as I’m tied to a chair, I have no idea. I'm thinking maybe it wasn't such a good hire after all.
\---------------------
For more stories, check out my subreddit!
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | 2021-01-16T23:14:08 | 2021-01-16T22:30:20 | 63 | 37 |
[WP] It was only after they invaded that the aliens realized, to their horror, that humans had superior technology in all things, except inter-planetary spaceflight. | Travel was always a danger for us.
To brave the high seas, to trek the rocky mountains-- these were the things for the bravest of souls, the greatest adventurers. Homing talonsongs could only be so reliable, after all. An unexpected storm here, a foul gust there, and a call for help on your trek would be a pitiless scream into the void.
That was, of course, before Traveler Shalesoul made the most important discovery the history of our civilization: an innocuous mollusk the size of one's forepalm. It made home on an island beyond the widest sea, among the sharpest stones. This timid, purple creature survived there by simply... slipping through space.
Naturally it was primarily using this ability to blink about its environment in search of certain kelps to ingest, but Shalesoul found that with a certain amount of coaxing and a deeply empathetic relationship, these "scarpers", as he called them, could instantaneously move you to any location you would desire. More than that, they could move objects within a certain radius around themselves.
It's surely by the grace of the Maker that these creatures came to us. Our greatest thinkers and tinkerers got to work and soon found that the distances these scarpers could move was limited only by the timidity and narrowness of imagination of the handlers who would eventually come to breed them.
Through this discovery, we became a globalized civilization overnight. We needed not heed the dangers of the tides or burning of the desert sun any longer. We were interconnected, as one species beneath a single sky. Trade prospered, ideas exchanged, and a lasting peace ensued.
Yet those with the calling for exploration desired on. To find romance of adventure. To question what was beyond the bright canopy above.
It was only a generation after their discovery did the first of our kind use the scarpers to aim herself skyward. Her name was Explorer Seasong. Her body was never recovered.
There were several who would follow in her path, and it took another generation for one survivor to report back an untenable lack of air which occurred beyond our home. We quickly got to work developing a small sealed room to transport ourselves in, and it sufficed. So soon after that we considered ourselves masters of the cosmos, searching the stars for any others similar to ourselves who would alleviate us of a loneliness. It was a loneliness which consumed our species. A loneliness one can only acquire after spending untold lives to discover only that the beauty of the universe served solely to belie a coldness and entropy which envelopes all.
If only we had known that our loneliness was our blessing.
I am a Keeper. A storyteller of my kind. A recorder of the histories which had brought us to the unity and tranquility we once knew. I live where I always have, behind the walls of our capitol. Our last jewel. What remains of my culture dies with me.
We had left only a single scarper behind. Just one.
And they found us.
With their burning hands and piercing gazes oh by the Maker they found us.
I hope now only that this record serves as my epitaph, and a warning to those who might read it.
I hear them now. Their boots fall.
If you are reading this, do not seek them.
Do not seek the Humans. | They came from the galaxy’s edge on worldships whose engines fanned out behind them like the ends of a scarf caught on the breeze, and their troop transports were no lesser works of art. The former Ethan found out from the news broadcasts that had flooded every terrestrial communication device for the last week as the aliens made their entry into Earth’s orbit, and the latter with his own two eyes.
Crouched beneath the eaves of his grandfather’s barn he watched as the ships came down, a cloud of white lights racing through the night sky as here and there squadrons peeled off. From their direction Ethan thought the majority were headed to the state capital, and he breathed a sigh of relief as they passed overhead, at least until he saw the trio they had left behind in their wake.
They spread out over the valley Ethan had called home his entire life, and one, the vessel on the rightmost point of their arrowhead, turned towards the farm.
Its hull was an opalescent blue that glowed brighter as the ship descended, headed for the main house. Its propellant left no scent, but a high pitched whine hung in the air its volume strangely constant. The ship did not land so much as hover, and as it hung there several feet off the ground a portal in the side irised open, leaving a blindingly bright hole in the side that precluded any view from Ethan’s angle.
His grandparents were already out on the porch watching it, a shotgun slung across grandpa Owen’s forearm. From where they stood they must have been staring directly into the ship, and would have certainly seen the faces of the men who leapt out.
For Ethan, newly 16 and never more afraid, “men” was the best description his mind could conjure for creatures who looked like *that*; who reminded him of nothing so much as a viking raid come to life in their panoply of furs and steel.
“Now that’s far enough boys.” Grandpa Owen spoke quietly but firmly, his voice somehow still carrying in the manner that had always been unique to him.
The alien response sounded like rocks breaking. Whatever these creatures were, the universal translator still seemed firmly lodged in science fiction.
“Son,” his grandpa called out, evidently coming to the conclusion that the newcomers wouldn’t understand, “I know you’re out there somewhere, your grandma and I love you.” He paused, gathering himself, “I’m giving you an order, you hear? Run. Run and don’t look back.”
Ethan couldn’t do it. Not for what felt like years, until the moment the aliens began to advance on the house, fully 20 of them having filed out of the ship by that point. As he turned the lead elements drew their weapons, long, heavy swords with flaring crescent tips.
He ran into the night as ordered, hot tears pouring down his cheeks. Ethan never looked back, not even at the loud report of the shotgun firing, or at the inhuman screams it left in its wake. The young man had a long way to go before sunup, 10 miles in the dark across a valley teeming with who knew what, all to reach the home of a girl he’d been in love with since they’d been in diapers and...what? Warn her? Protect her? Fat chance of that he thought.
Or maybe not. With every pounding step he took the sound morphed, becoming the gunshot that was his grandfather’s last act. An alien had screamed, Ethan had heard it. All that armor he wore and it hadn’t been worth a damn thing against a shotgun. The young man smiled in the dark, silhouetted against the blaze of his whole life burning behind him. He’d show them that Earth had far worse things in store than a 12-gauge.
\------------
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords! I'm currently working on a serial about some teens encountering a Hive Mind, and there's other fun stuff like a wholesome take on Bloody Mary. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-01-21T18:13:20 | 2021-01-21T14:21:41 | 299 | 53 |
[WP] Aliens have tried to conquer Earth over and over again, to no avail. Your empire is the latest to try it, and despite all your technology, you finally discover why Earth has never been conquered by alien empires. | Kamunepta, High Warrior of the Vol Song, had achieved her new position due to her careful analysis of human culture, and what she had found disturbed her.
Human were liars.
They told untruths, and omitted key details from their speech when it suited them. Their cultural fascination with a thing called "art" was disturbing - symbolic analysis of life was of course, well practiced by superior species, but human "art" often distorted its depictions, providing outsized focus on select details. They had history, but many of their literary works were something called "fiction" - untrue stories with only variously tenuous connections to an actual events.
Humans were thieves.
They had acquired derelict pieces of Vol Song technology, and blatantly copied it to improve their own weapons. They had no pride limiting their rapacious innovation, no desire to prove their own methodology superior. The war was not about measuring their civilization against the Vol Song, to find which *deserved* to rule. They merely desired victory, and would stoop to learning from their *enemy* to achieve their goal.
Humans were bastards.
The Vol Song, like most higher species, made war Honorably. Individual warriors sought combatants on the battlefield, to demonstrate their superior technology, prowess, and genetics. Humans fought in packs, like dogs. They aided soldiers that were losing: they focused multiple warriors on individual Vol Song, killing each in turn. They ran away, only to stop and fire back. They retreated without surrendering, and took prisoners, which they kept alive (defeated and alive!) and interrogated for "intelligence."
As if an intelligent species should directly uncover the plans of its enemy, as opposed to divining them from strategic imperatives and reasoning.
The first time humans defeated a Vol Song army was in a place called Germany. The Vol Song had sent a large force, but one proportionate to the size of the population of the area. They were opposed by a relatively small group of humans, which built fortifications (on a battlefield!) and used mass ranks to resist individual duels. Of course, the Vol Song - superior in technology, physical prowess, and speed of thought, made headway against the dishonorable tactics.
That was when a second force - which had not declared itself! - emerged from the forest behind the Vol Song army. Their projectile weapons were somewhat primitive, and they had no mechanized support, but they attacked anyway. In the Vol Song rear! Hundreds of warriors were massacred without even seeing their opponents!
Human children - well, sexually mature, but still of an age for training - would hide, hundreds of meters away, with high velocity projectile weapons, in small groups of two or three. Outside of declared battle, or even once they had begun(!), they would, unseen, deploy their weapons against Vol Song commanders, officers, and other leaders, picking them off from afar like honorless nonsentients! Once, a group of elder humans had destroyed a transport vessel full of warriors without even allowing them to enter the field, by employing combustion-powered explosive weaponry, called "rocket propelled grenades."
The Vol Song had come to Earth to extract its water, the only outwardly notably thing about the planet, and had discovered something unknown to them. Deception. Creative and surprising use of lesser tactics, purely to shock! Fear of their lives, even outside of pitched battle. These *monkeys* did not fight honorably. They did not contend fairly. They were vicious and predatory.
And she was glad her people were leaving. Because while she had originally regarded human communications about uniting to defeat the Vol Song as merely further lies, she had realized something else.
Humans made their lies real. | Report from Conquer Earth Voul Fleet:
Our ships take up position just outside Earth's lunar orbit because in-between the moon and Earth laid the most dangerous defensive weapon a ballistic mine field that would shred any ship attempting to get through. This was often enough to disuade most fleet's to turn around. But we Voul had experience deflecting the immensely thick asteroid fields and rocks clouds in our own home system.
Ships are ready engage counter measures the space sweepers clears up debris by attracting objects with artificial gravity and a plasma armor that slows down objects until they find themselves in the fusion chamber that reduces them to a bit of gas to feed the plasma armor.
We had expected to lose a hundred thousand sweepers because of the potential explosions of the landmines. We only lost 3!
It was a glorious start to the invasion with the minefield gone we could now approach Earth.
Captain remarks " I thought this world oceans were blue!"
The second in command responds "Maybe the Tretchs report was wrong" science officer adds "Maybe to the Tretchs eyes it is blue"
Communication officer reporting "I'm only picking up sporadic communication and nothing is approaching we appear to be undetected"
"Send the probe to offer terms as our code demands" the captain ordered. As many know the Voul are an empire of honor and social codes. If a Voul ever committed a crime they would turn themselves into the proper authority.
As the probe entered the atmosphere it sent back information average temperature 26C gas composition CO2 0.10 oxygen 19.00 and so on.
As images came back from the probe several bridge grew gasped in horror. The science officer pulled up something on his screen " Captain in the excitement of finally doing the impossible I missed the warnings. The reason the minefield didn't prove to be a problem was because..." The officer breathed in to calm itself "Sir it's not a minefield it's a debris field made up of ships from past invasion's and Earth materials that might have been satellites and even orbital stations. It was just garbage!"
As the captain processed this information his eyes widened as he put it all together the reason no one had successfully invaded Earth.
He barked out orders " Science, Communication Deep scan the planet locate every single lifeform you can. Helms prepare to enter the atmosphere. Fleet ground command we have a RC25 situation launch troop carriers.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
After 6 hour's we had found approximately 7 Humans and that was it. The planet was a toxic wasteland the survivor's were damaged beyond full repair from the toxic environment.
The first question we asked the Humans as they laid in the bio repair tubes was the obvious "Who did this to you? Who destroyed your world." According to galactic law it was a major offense to destroy a living world.
"Tell us Humans so we may avenge your world"
The human begun to convulse making a high pitch noise.
The Human annouces in between gasping for air " We did it We destroyed Earth" every single Voul gasped with shock.
How could any species be this ignorant and short sighted. We may never know as the remaining Humans are damaged beyond a comparable study to the original Humans.
Our science officer concluded this might explain why Humans didn't leave their planet as most other species do within 50 years of their first launch. Building a space civilization required more than the Humans could muster. Bogged down in petty conflicts while the majority of it population lived in substandard conditions.
The Humans never figured out how to work together even when repulsing what ever empire invaded them. This chaotic tactic worked but resulted in a debris field shut down humans space exploration. Leaving them nowhere to go as their destruction of the environment finished them off.
Their was of course only one thing left to do according to Voul custom. As the capsules landed on Earth they released a cloud of terra forming robots. It would take thousands of years but this planet would live again with new life.
A grave marker was left at the request of the Humans. It said look upon our greatest work our hubris so great we ended ourselves.
As the news spread around the Galaxy a feeling of relief that the nightmarish humans are gone followed by a wave of pity and disgust for Humans.
They would become a cautionary lesson told to children and a slur for anyone so stupid that they might accidentally kill themselves or others. | 2021-05-07T07:53:58 | 2021-05-07T05:03:24 | 141 | 67 |
[WP] Your friend begs you to drive out to the middle of nowhere and take their picture with their phone. As soon as you do, they disappear. You check the phone and find hundreds of photos of different smiling strangers all in the exact same spot.
(inspired by tumblr [https://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/651266234285965312/your-friend-begs-you-to-drive-out-to-the-middle-of](https://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/651266234285965312/your-friend-begs-you-to-drive-out-to-the-middle-of) I couldn't find this on reddit and I wanted to read the story) | Do you want to know something crazy?
I had a best friend just a few months ago, she and I had been childhood friends since middle school. We did everything together, stuck together through thick and thin, through bad breakups and high school drama. We stayed in touch through our adult lives, always making time to meet up and hang out, always ready to drop everything and just listen to each other when we needed someone to listen to our problems.
Sarah was like a sister I never had, she told me she considered me a brother from another mother. If Sarah had asked me to jump, I would've asked her how high. If had asked Sarah to jump off a cliff with me, I have no doubt she would have followed me over. I would have done anything for her.
A few months ago Sarah went missing, and I had a hand in it.
It all started with a frantic barely coherent phone call at 2 am in the morning on a Thursday. All I could make out from the call is that she needed my help with something, so I got up, threw on some clothes, and peeled out of my driveway like some knight and shining armor going to save a princess. She sent me to some random access road out in the middle of nowheresville USA, nothing but farmland and fields for miles. The first sign of her I get is her red subcompact sitting on the side of the road, the second is her footprints leading out into a field of wheat. I'll admit to panicking and rushing in, I should have probably called the cops or something, but sleep-deprived me wasn't thinking on all cylinders anyway. I follow her tracks all the way to what seems like the very center of the field.
And that is where I find here, standing there in the full moonlight like nothing was wrong.
I try to question her, try to get some answers but she is so manic and obviously hasn't been sleeping well. She spouts out some gibberish about "The time being right!" and how she really needed my help. In hindsight, her haggard appearance and the manic look in her eyes should have tipped me off to something being wrong. But to my shame, I just kind of gave in and started complying with her request. She handed me her phone and told me to take her picture, practically begged me to do it, with an air of desperation I had never seen from her. Wanting to get this over with I just complied, I lifted the phone camera so that she was in the frame, the gloomy light offering just enough illumination to see her facial expression through the lens. She was smiling, smiling like everything was right in the world and she was completely at peace As if all of life's problems melted away in that one small moment.
I took the picture, and she vanished into thin air.
My heart stopped beating at that moment, my mind having trouble processing the impossibility before me. Sarah was gone and she never came back, I searched those fields for hours and found nothing. Horror gave into despair as my desperate search turned up nothing. Eventually, Fatigue forced me to accept the truth of the matter, and I returned home a more broken man than when I had left. My first thought was to call the police, but the rational part of my brain pointed out the ludicrous nature of what I was trying to report. If I had tried filling out that report, I would probably be in a cell right now. No one would believe my story, and I would be the prime suspect.
So I took matters into my own hands, I started digging even as the days turned to weeks and she was officially declared missing. Through all the police questioning and general mayhem of those days, I looked into the one lead I had. Her phone had the answers I was seeking, bypassing the lock screen I went sifting through the gallery and files, hoping for some kind of answer. And I found something even crazier. There were hundreds of photos, all taken in the exact place.
Hundreds of smiling faces, all positioned in the exact way Sarah had been. All of them have the background of that damn Wheatfield, always on a full moon. Hundreds of people I don't recognize all with that same exact serene look on their face like they couldn't be happier. All of them have missing person's cases matching their faces. The last in the long list of photos being one I took of Sarah, that happy face staring at me, proving this wasn't some messed up fever dream.
All of this brings me to why I am writing all this down. I've done a bit more digging on the phone, there are memos and text documents. All of them have been edited over time with half coherent ramblings of several different people. Outlining the steps for this little ritual Sarah and I have stumbled into. Tonight is a full moon and in 3 hours it will be 2 am in the morning on a Thursday night. I'm about to head out to that Wheatfield again, one final time. I have to know what happened to her, I made a promise to always be there for her, and I'll be damned before I go back on that promise. So I'm leaving for what might be the final time.
And I'm gonna take the selfie of a lifetime.
*-Contents of a note found on the desk of Robert Wayland, found by local law enforcement after a search of the residence, after Robert had been officially declared missing. The phone mentioned has yet to be recovered, but a search for Roberts's vehicle and the field in question is underway at this time.* | **NEVER NEVER LAND**
Zia was used to spontaneity that looked like insanity from Nora. In fact, that was partly why they’d become friends. Nora was always up for an adventure, most of the time it was her idea, but she was down for where Zia’s wanderlust took them too.
So, when Zia got the text “Let’s go.” She didn’t ask questions, just scooped her phone, keys and wallet and took off to meet up.
They’d driven out to the middle of nowhere with the radio full blast. Nora’s excitement buzzed next to the bass, an undercurrent of electric anticipation. The last time Zia had seen her like this, Nora had scored them VIP All Access Passes to see The Tron live and in underground glory.
But when the Rav-4 parked at the coordinates on the GPS, they were literally nowhere. Just a big open field for miles with the stars sparkling brightly above.
Exiting the passenger side, Nora ran to a spot. Glancing around and repositioning herself. Going through several poses before settling on the one.
“Okay, take my picture. Here –” Nora handed off her phone … well, a phone. Zia didn’t remember her friend upgrading to the newest model, Nora didn’t care about tech that much. Shrugging, Zia unlocked the phone and opened the camera app --
“Wait, wait, wait.” Nora left her spot and gave Zia a big hug, then snapped back to Vogue position. “Okay, now. See ya on the other side.”
Odd. But Zia dutifully did her friend duty, lining up the most flattering angle and click.
The picture was perfect:
Nora in all her rebellious, fiery, in-love-with-life glory.
Zia, satisfied her friend would like the shot, held the phone out to her friend and looked up –-
“Nora? … Nora??” Nora was gone.
Or at least hiding. But where in this vast open field she would be hiding?
“Nora, come on out this isn’t funny.” Nothing, no response.
Zia turned around; Nora had to be hiding behind the SUV. Where else could she be?
Doing a slow circuit around the Rav, checking the seats and all the open spaces in the back did not produce her friend.
The silence in the field was deafening. Which is probably why, when the phone in her hand beeped, Zia jumped a foot.
A message appeared on the screen:
“Applicant accepted.”
“What the hell?” Zia stared at the message.
XXX
Nora saw the flash from the camera and when she blinked, she’d been transported.
It was better than her wildest dreams.
A full-on rave, underground in the most magnificent caverns she’d ever seen. It rivaled anything Nat Geo showed off.
The party was in full swing. Everyone around her was dancing and having the time of their lives. She could see people shout-talking, but she couldn’t hear anything over the music.
And then someone bumped into her and shouted “HALLO!”
Turning, she saw the most gorgeous guy she’d ever seen. She must’ve dreamed him, and almost pinched herself when he shouted, “DANCE?”
She nodded and he started to pull her into the middle of the gyrating party goers, but she snapped out of her trance and pulled back.
“I HAVE TO WAIT FOR MY FRIEND.”
His look of confusion was comical. *Chicks before dicks, my dude*. Nora thought both triumphantly and sadly, she didn’t enjoy passing up a good time with him but for Zia she would wait. She was looking forward to seeing Zia’s face when she popped in.
“I WANT TO BE IN THE SAME SPOT SHE’LL ARRIVE IN!”
Nora was sure this would snag a year’s worth of friend brownie points for scoring the biggest ticket coup of all time. That’s probably why Gorgeous Guy’s next words didn’t register –
“ONE TICKET PER RIDE.”
“WHAT? NO. THE GUY SAID 2 FOR 1.”
Gorgeous Guy shook his head, he was probably getting impatient with the newb and having to yell to be heard but Nora didn’t care. She was staying till Zia got through.
He leaned closer to her, nearly kissing her ear, and spoke at close to normal volume.
“The second person pays the price for the first person to come through. 2. For. 1.”
Nora studied his face. Waiting for his earnest gaze to turn into a gotcha-smile. He had to be joking right? Zia would come through any minute.
But his gaze held steady. Until he was certain she understood. Which she didn’t. *Pays the price? What the hell did that mean?*
She had to get back before it was too late, before anything happened to Zia. Looking around, the caves no longer looked epic, they felt claustrophobic. She didn’t see any hint of the surface or a way to get out.
Nora started pushing her way through the revelers. Desperate to figure something out before it was too late –-
XXX
Zia, alone in the field, cleared the message and opened the phone’s photo gallery.
Nora was Vogueing in the perfect photo. But, swiping through other photos, Zia almost dropped the phone. There were hundreds of strangers, smiling and vogueing, in the exact same spot.
Had they all disappeared the way Nora had?
Were they all gone?
Would she be back?
Where did they go?
What did applicant accepted even mean anyway?
A million questions flooded Zia’s mind. This is what she got for always being so analytical. Nora teased her mercilessly for it. A gypsy spirit, but a scientist mind. And, for the life of her, she couldn’t figure it out. She didn’t have enough data.
Just a phone filled with smiles, and an empty field.
It felt like hours had passed but it had only been a few minutes. Another beep heralded another message:
“To follow, commence protocol 1.”
A link was below the message. Debating, but already knowing her curiosity and concern for her friend had made her decision, Zia opened the link, and her vision went dark. | 2021-05-15T11:02:46 | 2021-05-15T10:47:56 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] No one is sure what happened, but suddenly everyone started obeying the law. All crime ceased. At first it was beautiful, but it quickly started going very wrong. | My mother’s voice was soft and gentle, her touch kind and enveloping. Hugged tight against her chest, I felt warm tears begin to form, wishing she’d *let me go*.
I couldn’t push her off, though. I couldn’t even blink on command, couldn’t even breathe. I was just a puppet. *Everyone was.*
Finally released from the hug, my chin lifted to look her in the eyes. My lips tugged into a smile, and I could taste the salt as the tears I had been quietly weeping rolled past my split lips. She returned the smile, and I imagine it looked just as crooked and wrong on my face as it did on hers.
“I love you, mama.”
The words were tender, but my voice was all wrong. It sounded like someone was playing my vocal chords like an instrument, each syllable a note and each note off-key.
She just kept smiling in return, turning away from me to walk into the kitchen- presumably to get my lunch. I waited for her return like a soldier at attention, back rigid and muscles tense. They never got to relax, not even in rest- I would lie in bed, limbs straight as boards, breathing even in a mockery of sleep as I waited for the sun to rise again. God, I ached. It was hell.
It was then that my mother returned, singing out a cheerful goodbye from unwilling lips as she handed me a brown paper bag. For the first time that morning, I got a good look at her face. She was crying too, I realized, not even able to wipe away the trailing tears.
“Have a good day at school, Sammy.”
“Goodbye, mama.”
It was the least alone I’d felt in months. | It was such a beautiful idea. Build a machine that sends a new form of electrical wave neutralizing neurophysiological problems like anger, jealousy, envy and humanity finally can ascend to a higher form of society. It was simplistic even. Just drug the brain to the point the patient can't differentiate between right and wrong then imprint the perfect moral compass directly into their brains.
It worked great. The test person were put under strict medical supervision to make sure no problems would arise. A few issues were present and had to be fixed. After someone tried to cut his own kidney out of himself to give it to somebody in need of organ transplantation, they included the feature of absolutely no violence to yourself and others into the moral brain import. After another patient was distraught by seeing a TV Crime show, they blocked the brain from seeing crime at all. Some scientists were criticizing the extreme measures that were taken, but they were quickly overwhelmed by positive feedback of all nations. I mean who wouldn't want to live in perfect peace...
It was decided that the waves would encase all nations at once, so to prevent one country without perfect morals overpowering another with them without resistance. And so the day came where humans were peaceful and lawful to the extreme.
People started dying almost immediately. Victims of drug withdrawal made the first wave. Without anyone to provide them drugs many users of hard drugs started seizing and going into pulmonary distress. Even those who still had drugs couldn't take them because their own morals kept them from doing so.
After that came the realization: No violence meant that doctors couldn't work surgically, pharmacists couldn't start chemotherapy, nurses couldn't restrain people anymore regardless of them seizing or having mental problems.
With everyone all over the globe paying absolutely fair prices for labor the world population couldn't be kept feed anymore not only because the world economy plummeted but also because every worker was absolutely just working exactly what the had to without overtime ever. There was simply not enough food production to keep the utopia that was intended stable.
As scientists tried to disable the machine they were shocked. Even switching the machine of and in turn causing huge quantities of humans distress was a crime and so they couldn't find the apparatus, not to think of actually stopping it.
With this the leaders of humanity watched helplessly as their utopia they tried to create fell into absolute lawful chaos while they cursed themselves (internally) for not thinking ahead. | 2021-09-22T11:18:45 | 2021-09-22T09:04:52 | 54 | 25 |
[WP] You've never felt the same after learning Morse Code. The rain keeps telling you to run. | Your eyes have never changed. Ever since you were a little girl, your eyes have been the color of a thoughtful ocean: churning, stormy, one weather system away from order or chaos.
Even now, your eyes look the same. You're 27 years old, and I've been dead for 15 of those years. And even with the distance of death and time—even with that purple bruise blackening your eye—your eyes look the same.
Now, the sea is full of storms.
My wild girl. My mermaid child.
You stand on the back porch and smoke a cigarette. The rain plinks down, and you watch it. Your cheek is hot and red.
I'm only a ghost, but I still reach out to cup your face in my palm, like any good mother would.
Perhaps you feel it. Perhaps you don't. You smear that cheek against your shoulder and pull again on the cigarette.
When he hit you, I reached out then too. I moved to cover you with my body. But he punched through me like mist, and I could only stand there, a shadow of myself, and watch the man you call husband toss you like a child throwing a toy.
If the dead could kill, I would do it myself.
A door slams in the house. You jolt and look toward it. Your fingers shudder as you inhale your slow death.
Do you remember the game we used to play?
We would build a blanket fort in the living room and, on weekends, stay up watching movies or telling scary stories. And sometimes, we would close our eyes, and we would take turns tap-tapping secret messages on each other's arms. I taught you each letter, one by one, until we could pass words back and forth.
On your first day of middle school, when you were fighting so hard to be brave, you gripped my arm and finger-tapped *SCARED*.
And I tapped back, *BE STRONG*.
Now I cannot touch you, not exactly. Not enough. But I can do this.
I can gather water in my palms. I can bring it to you and let it drip, slow, careful. So careful.
You turn your stormy eyes down in mute shock, watching the water fall from nowhere onto you.
I say, *RUN.*
You shiver, but you don't wipe the water away. You look at the porch roof overhead, then at your skin, and somewhere in the distance. Like you're scanning the sky.
I do it again. *RUN.*
Your cigarette slips from your fingers. The oceans in your eyes draw inward, the breath before a tsunami.
"Mom?"
I turn away from you to gather more rainwater. I cannot touch the living, but if I focus the core of my unbeing into my palms, I can manage this.
"I can't. I can't do any of this."
You can. Every time I have seen that doubt and fear in your eyes, you have braved the next wave. You've kept going, on toward the horizon.
I do the only thing I can.
I drip-drop onto your arm: *BE STRONG.*
Your eyes lift to stare into mine, as if you can sense my face without seeing it. You crush the cigarette beneath your boot and leave it there.
Your husband is inside. Your wallet, your keys. But you have your phone and your heart and your will to live and you must run while you can, run like hell, run like the next time you walk through that door he really will go too far and hold you under that ocean until you're gone.
Run like you still have a mother to run back to.
You look back over your shoulder, at the door. It's a cold, dark night, and you only have on your jeans, your shoes, a hoodie.
But you venture out into the backyard anyway, moving like a convict in your own house.
You reach the fence. You climb over.
The rain is falling heavy on both of us now, as if the sky is tapping out on us *live live live*.
But you go, and I follow.
Like I always have. Like I always will.
Any good mother would. | Why won't they listen?
Why won't anyone listen?
"You never wonder if the rain would give you a message in Morse code?" asked Natalia, in an innocent tone that did not fully hide her fear.
"That would make my day more interesting, I can tell you that much," replied Rene, her Morse code instructor in the army.
Natalia knew that the army was fond of soldiers who knew their way around the code. It was the best, sometimes the only, mean of communications in remote locations like jungles or damaged mountain ranges. A new skill and an opportunity to travel to the unknown, everything a single and adventurous young woman could ask for.
The code itself was surprisingly easy, it only required to learn by heart the translation of each letter, and invoke the inner discipline to translate anything she came by at random for training.
Bird meant -... .. .-. -..
Tree meant - .-. . .
In the evenings, she sat at the transmitter and learned the subtleties of the sound and the pauses, to differentiate long and short, transcribe faster and make it a second nature.
It became a force of habit, looking for random patterns, writing down letters to form incoherent words. To pass time, to avoid boredom while waiting for the next deployment.
Natalia remembered the first time she understood the rain. A few drops resonated more deeply and vibrantly than others, following the mechanical rhythm of the code.
*Run, coward, run.*
A long pause.
*Run, coward, run.*
Repeated as long as the rain lasted.
Quite the imagination she had. At least, that's what she thought then. But the message kept coming, no matter where she was when it rained, it was always the same cold threat.
Rene's answer was enough to convince her she was too imaginative. If she alone heard it, then it was only a product of her mind.
The days went on, and the message became almost tedious.
Until it changed. Standing at a window and looking at the horizon, Natalia could not miss the difference.
*I see you.*
A long pause.
*I see you.*
What sick joke was this? Bullying by an insane sergeant? The start of madness? Angry at the world and herself, Natalia left the barrack to walk outside in the middle of the heavy rain. There, with noise coming from all directions, the message was thinned, dulled, drowned out. The rain poured down her smooth face, every drop provoked a fleeting moment of enjoyment on a fragment of her skin. Drenched and cold, she found peace.
A low *thump* brought her back to the present. Hidden by the heavy rain, something had fallen not far behind her. She carefully advanced, and nearly tripped. Something had left a mark, deep in the wet ground. Her own carelessness had damaged the trace, it could have been vaguely humanoid.
Unsure, she hastily retreated in direction of the barracks.
*Thump.*
This time closer.
"Enough!" she shouted.
For a moment, there was no more unnatural noise.
Some drops resonated more deeply than others, as if their echo jumped at Natalia's face and clung to it.
*I am coming for you.*
In the veil of water in front of her, just as a mist started to intertwine with it, she thought she made out a roaring face.
She dodged at the last moment, the fangs sliced a few of her hairs.
She had felt the breath of the beast on her neck, a sick, damp and bloody breath.
And the rain screamed.
*You are mine.*
*Let us rejoice together.*
*Let us be one.*
Natalia ran as fast as she could while covering her ears with both hands, the impact of the beast on her tail ran up her feet and seized her heart, gripping it with a cold hand. The air in her lungs turned to ice, her legs went numb, the desperate escape turned to a crawl.
*There is no escape.*
*In your room, under your bed, in the closet, I will wind you.*
She reached the barracks out of breath and fell through the door into the arms of another soldier and passed out.
At the infirmary, many wondered just what the hell happened to her. Natalia had been witnessed leaving on a walk in the rain, and running back in panic. What had come to pass in-between these two points in time was the subject of much speculation. Friends and superiors visited, worried about her mental health or wondering if a stalked was after her. Blair, Irene, Rene, and quite a few more came to offer kind words. She had none to give back.
Even sleeping pills could not whisk her away into sleep when it rained at night. The drops splashed against the window.
*I see you.*
She left the infirmary when the doctor decided that there wasn't enough to work on, be it physical or mental health. She was to avoid stress and that was it. | 2021-09-28T09:13:08 | 2021-09-28T08:55:03 | 2,222 | 89 |
[WP] You run an underground fight club for the supernatural. A new patron approaches you at the end of the night and asks why you don't enter the fights. After explaining you're human the patron looks at you with confusion. "No, you most definitely aren't kid". | “Trust me, I’m only human. My parents were human and I’ve never had a remarkable thing occur to me my whole life.”
He stares at me as he processes my response. “I understand that you believe that. In fact anyone would believe the same. But the truth is you are much more.”
I stare at him feeling a bit annoyed. I always wanted to be special. Never once in my life had I been anything but normal. Normal grades, normal friends, normal home. The only thing not normal in my life was when the discovery of different beings, the supernatural, were discovered. The moment everything in the world changed. Ever since then I had always hoped to discover I was one of them. To have powers, to be unique. But unfortunately I was born a human and would always be a human. But that desire, the hope of being more. This man’s words were reaching into me, pulling them back to the surface.
I look back at him. “Again sir, as much as I wished what you said was true, the fact is I’m just a normal person.”
He chuckled at that for a moment as I could see a strange glisten in his eyes. “It is true that as you are now, you’re just a normal human. But I promise you the truth is very different. You are the same as me. I had thought that all of our kind had died centuries ago when my dear friend took his own life.”
His eyes began to get watery as he fights back the feeling of sadness. “I’ve lived for so long, and I’d like it to end. Meeting you must be fate, as I now have the chance to pass everything on to you.”
I can feel the pain behind his sadness as he reaches towards me. Accepting his embrace I lean to his ear and whisper. “I wish I could help you. It’s just that I know that I’m just a normal person.”
He turns to me. “You are definitely not normal.” I feel a sharp pain in my side as I look down and see the knife piercing my side. “It’s just that you haven’t died yet.”
I feel my body go cold from shock as I try to gasp for air. The knife must have pierced my lung because I can feel the pain of each failing breath. Tears stream down my eyes as I stare at the man. I don’t want to die. This was just supposed to be a part time job for the summer. I was going to finish school next year. I feel the room grow colder as my vision darkens. The man whispering that everything will be fine, as the world goes dark.
And then a light. A heartbeat. A gasp of air. I come to reaching to my side. There is no wound. The man is standing away from me holding a sword in his hand.
“With this you will never die. You will always live no matter what injury is inflicted upon you, for you will be the last of our kind.”
I struggle to stand as he takes his sword and with a swift motion slices his neck. The blade goes through cleanly as blood seeps down. His head falls in front of me. The lights in the room began to overheat as a strange energy encompasses me. I can feel it. I finally understand.
In the end there can be only one. | "Chuckle, what have you been smoking bud." My parents and all that crap were all human. They did the DNA thing, mandatory for the past 75 years, so it's no big deal.
The patron looks at me, and his eyes flicker. "You are not human. I don't know how you are passing, but definitely not human. Fight me in the ring, tonight."
"No man" I got things to do, places to go and people to see. Okay, I want to live to see my next birthday, but I don't elaborate. I finish the list for tonight, and start setting up the bar.
I feel a hand grab my arm, crushing the bone. Pain floods through me, and I gasp. "What the hell?" I scream. My team comes over, and yanks the knot head away. Soon, he is blubbering... "She's a Sup. You gotta believe me...." I heard a crunch, and the team hauls him out. My 2nd approaches, and says, "An ambulance is on the way. Let them take care of you. I'll help you get to the front."
'The front' was a C-store. Sold snacks, diapers, and little things. I owned it, and we had been having our fights in the basement since I took over the business. The basement was bigger than the building above, and was the only reason I bought the place. There was so much potential there. I lived in one walled off area, but the club, well it had the rest.
When the ambulance came, they checked me over, and took me in. I was grateful, and hey the pain meds really helped. The night spent in the ED was one of the most boring in my life. By the time they were done with xrays, and finding a doc to put a cast on, I just was wore out. Compound crushing fracture, parts of the bone were obliterated.
Once the cast was on, I was free to go with the standard follow up with my local MD. Of course, I would. Sighs. A cab ride home, and hopefully the c-store was still standing.
My 2nd was waiting for us, he paid the cab driver, and helped me in the door. The place was sparkling clean. He flipped the closed sign on the door, and locked up. Tears filled my eyes. "Thank You." I was led home, and put to bed. Hours, maybe days later, I woke up. My 2nd sat next to me.
"Awake, I see."
I looked at him, smiled, and said "Of course. How have things been going?"
"The c-store is doing well. No thefts, profits are up. We have the young sups working, and one of the wizards improved things. Now, no dust will land there, and the shelves are self-stocking." He grabbed my hand, "We had the wizards look at your arm. They were able to knit it back together, and remove that cast. We kept you asleep the whole time, to deal with the shock and the pain."
"Thank You. I don't.."
His hand gripped mine a little harder. "You have given us a home, and a safe place to fight, to train, and to get our aggressions out safely. It's the least we could do."
"Okay, and what about the guy that hurt me?"
"He was out of his mind, he is unable to hurt anyone again. His mind was wiped, and his powers stripped. He's at the local nuthut, being evaluated. They don't know what to make of an infant in an adult body, but it was safest for everyone."
I laid back down to the pillow. My 2nd put a cool cloth on my forehead. "We love you, and your superpower is just that, you love all of us. We got your back." His hand touched my forehead, and I fell back to sleep. I rested. | 2022-09-08T20:25:14 | 2022-09-08T19:48:41 | 525 | 231 |
[WP] You run an underground fight club for the supernatural. A new patron approaches you at the end of the night and asks why you don't enter the fights. After explaining you're human the patron looks at you with confusion. "No, you most definitely aren't kid". | For the fighters, fight clubs were about honour first.
And some money. When the vampire with a swollen face and bloody teeth comes up to me, you best believe it’s not about the rankings, or the win.
For me, it was about money first. Running a supernatural fight club was a difficult business, entirely reliant on the health of my participants. But thankfully, the risk tended to pay off in spades. After all, there was no other place on Earth where you got the opportunity to find out the truth about your greatest fantasy match ups.
A monopoly was where the money was at. The fights went through me. The fighters? Also me. The betting? Of course, it was me.
When a shady old man slides up to me with a curious intent as obvious as the bloodlust in the cage, all I assumed was that a doubtful bet or idea was forthcoming.
“Hey,” he said, sniffling incessantly. The man shook uncontrollably as well, and his skin looked like it was ready to be turned into a cheap wallet. He raised his hat as a greeting.
“Hey.”
“Why aren’t you fighting in those fights, kiddo?”
I looked at the old man, who was staring at me with an intensity that belied his old age. Unlike the rest of his body, there was something about his eyes. Blue as the heavens themselves. Having seen my fair share of the supernatural over the years, there was something about them that was difficult to…
“I’m human,” I chuckled. “And please, I own this place. There’s no reason for me to be fighting down there.”
The old man licked his thin lips, before turning to look at the fight. The underdog werewolf was winning. Good for money.
“See, the trouble here is I look at you, and I see you winning all these fights.”
“You must be mistaken,” I said. “I’m only human.”
“Kiddo, you are as human as my vision,” the old man said.
I shuffled in my seat, and turned my attention back towards the field. The fight was over. The werewolf ran up to the cage, howling triumphantly. Even a zombie’s heart would beat at that sort of unbridled passion.
“Do you know who you are?”
The voice refocused my gaze, and I found myself wanting to unravel the mystery. The old man had a small smile on his face, and a twinkle in his eye.
“I own this place,” I said again, with less conviction than I would’ve liked.
“Go down there. Fight. And you’ll find out.”
There was a stirring deep inside, a yearning that was quietly scratching at its walls. One hand crawled towards the safe that held my cold, hard cash, and I felt that passion retreat unto itself.
“I’m not who you think I am,” I said. “I’m here to run the fights and make money. You want me to bleed on that floor? Hell no.”
The old man shrugged.
“One day, you won’t keep that beast within you,” he said. “You’ll see.”
And with a wink, he disappeared like the wind itself.
---
[Part 2 here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/dexdrafts/comments/xazf44/wp_you_run_an_underground_fight_club_for_the/?)
r/dexdrafts | "Chuckle, what have you been smoking bud." My parents and all that crap were all human. They did the DNA thing, mandatory for the past 75 years, so it's no big deal.
The patron looks at me, and his eyes flicker. "You are not human. I don't know how you are passing, but definitely not human. Fight me in the ring, tonight."
"No man" I got things to do, places to go and people to see. Okay, I want to live to see my next birthday, but I don't elaborate. I finish the list for tonight, and start setting up the bar.
I feel a hand grab my arm, crushing the bone. Pain floods through me, and I gasp. "What the hell?" I scream. My team comes over, and yanks the knot head away. Soon, he is blubbering... "She's a Sup. You gotta believe me...." I heard a crunch, and the team hauls him out. My 2nd approaches, and says, "An ambulance is on the way. Let them take care of you. I'll help you get to the front."
'The front' was a C-store. Sold snacks, diapers, and little things. I owned it, and we had been having our fights in the basement since I took over the business. The basement was bigger than the building above, and was the only reason I bought the place. There was so much potential there. I lived in one walled off area, but the club, well it had the rest.
When the ambulance came, they checked me over, and took me in. I was grateful, and hey the pain meds really helped. The night spent in the ED was one of the most boring in my life. By the time they were done with xrays, and finding a doc to put a cast on, I just was wore out. Compound crushing fracture, parts of the bone were obliterated.
Once the cast was on, I was free to go with the standard follow up with my local MD. Of course, I would. Sighs. A cab ride home, and hopefully the c-store was still standing.
My 2nd was waiting for us, he paid the cab driver, and helped me in the door. The place was sparkling clean. He flipped the closed sign on the door, and locked up. Tears filled my eyes. "Thank You." I was led home, and put to bed. Hours, maybe days later, I woke up. My 2nd sat next to me.
"Awake, I see."
I looked at him, smiled, and said "Of course. How have things been going?"
"The c-store is doing well. No thefts, profits are up. We have the young sups working, and one of the wizards improved things. Now, no dust will land there, and the shelves are self-stocking." He grabbed my hand, "We had the wizards look at your arm. They were able to knit it back together, and remove that cast. We kept you asleep the whole time, to deal with the shock and the pain."
"Thank You. I don't.."
His hand gripped mine a little harder. "You have given us a home, and a safe place to fight, to train, and to get our aggressions out safely. It's the least we could do."
"Okay, and what about the guy that hurt me?"
"He was out of his mind, he is unable to hurt anyone again. His mind was wiped, and his powers stripped. He's at the local nuthut, being evaluated. They don't know what to make of an infant in an adult body, but it was safest for everyone."
I laid back down to the pillow. My 2nd put a cool cloth on my forehead. "We love you, and your superpower is just that, you love all of us. We got your back." His hand touched my forehead, and I fell back to sleep. I rested. | 2022-09-09T02:12:40 | 2022-09-08T19:48:41 | 428 | 231 |
[WP] In the Academy for Knights, all students must bring their own weapon to matches against other students. You couldn't afford anything fancy, so you brought something more unconventional. | I hate Tuesdays.
Tuesdays, the school decided, were all-out Battle Royale fighting days. The winner would be granted test immunity for the next week. While the losers would be healed by magic for class the next day.
So I stood in my corner, simple peasant clothes and red scarf around my neck. While my classmates were decked out in new, shiny armor and weapons each reflecting the sun as if it was a mirror.
I had nothing like that, my family had nothing near that kind of money, but I did have something.
I reached down to my belt, and rested a hand against my frying pan.
Better than nothing.
“And… BEGIN!” The headmaster’s voice boomed out into the colosseum and the fighting began.
“You! You will fall first!” The classmate said next to me, Rupert if I was correct, who wielded a claymore and was currently charging directly at me.
I stood still and waited for the swing. When he brought down his claymore, I dodged right and drew my pan. Swinging it with all my might into his chest.
CLANG
Metal rippled around the frying pan as it collided with Rupert’s chest. His momentum shifted in that direction, and he flew to the ground, knocked out cold.
I twirled my frying pan, and blocked the next sword. Maybe this Tuesday wouldn’t be that bad. | the arena was jam packed with spectators from all over the campus. My opponent was decked out in the best armor and gear money could buy. I myself wore a tunic and shorts. This was on purpose because it allowed more mobility. My weapon however was less than ideal. A small squeaky hammer. I enter the arena weapon ready. My opponent saw my weapon and laughed. After a minute to calm down he said "tell you what little guy. I'll let you get a free hit on me to make you feel good." I lean back to ready an attack then swing the hammer at him. To his surprise, and the surprise of the audience, he went flying across the arena and into the wall. This guy who was in heavy plate armor was just sent flying like a ragdoll. After getting up he said "what was that? Grrr. Time to get serious" he charged at me with sword raised. I nimbly Dodge and land a hit square on his back. Just like last time he went flying and skidded across the ground a ways. Also like last time he got up. I could tell he was mad. He goes for another hit and i sidestep ready to riposte. He saw it coming and blocked with his shield. His shield was knocked out of his hand and went flying out of the arena. While he was caught off guard I swing again and knock him in the air slightly as he flew. This was my strategy, win by wearing out my opponent. While it was viable it had two major weaknesses. One if the opponent was a speeder like me landing a hit would be difficult if not impossible. Second I wore no armor. So any hit I take would hurt. "Enough of this! Time to finish it!" My opponent charged at me with sword in both hands. I plant my feet, ready my weapon, and wait. Once he was close I land a solid hit knocking him up in the air. After a minute he fell back to the ground with a thud. "And we have our winner!" Called the announcer. "Our young squire!" | 2022-09-14T17:58:43 | 2022-09-14T16:33:52 | 207 | 11 |
[WP]: A child encounters a mythical creature only to discover they're nothing like in the stories. | Monsters in my storybooks are big and scary.
They have sharp teeth and long claws, and when the hero fights them the hero is always brave and strong with shiny armor and a sword.
My monster is small. And when I fight it I'm weak and tired and sick and lose my hair.
My mom says I'm fighting like a brave knight, but this is a much scarier monster than the ones in the books, because I think the hero doesn't win. | She saw it as she was walking through the woods. It was just as she imagined, lit by a single ray of sunshine while the trees glowed around it, lapping up the water from a creek that trickled gently.
She didn't know what to say, should she call her mother and father who had gone on ahead, oblivious to the magnificent creature she stood before, or should she admire its beauty silently, not wanting to spook it, in the hope that this moment would last a little longer.
She looked down the path. Her parents had stopped to look at something in the trees, probably some birds she thought. When she turned back the creature was looking at her. It hadn't moved, but it definitely knew she was there.
It was bigger than she could have imagined, a brilliant white color just like in all the stories she'd read. "I can't believe your real." she whispered.
She took a step forward, that was when she noticed something different. The creature began to breathe heavily and pawing the ground. "What's wrong?" she said, "I can help you."
But she had gone to close. The creature galloped in a single circle, then lowered it's horn and charged. | 2013-11-12T15:25:27 | 2013-11-12T09:00:02 | 33 | 16 |
[WP] Every thousand years the gods have to each choose a mortal to replace them. You have been chosen, but not for the reasons you expected. | "But what if you don't have internet? I mean, it seems like the process kinda favors the richer countries."
*"It only seems that way. It comes in more forms than you know."*
"So, that's it? That's the criteria? The only criteria to become a GOD? You toss out great heroic deeds or a moralistic sense of purpose? Leadership among men? Great belief?"
*"Heroic deeds are rarely done for the reasons purported, people follow those who best let them believe they are right and a deep moralistic sense of purpose can lead to to service the demented desires of but a single soul. No, the rationale we have chosen, we think is very just and honorable."*
"Seriously? Upvotes? Seriously" | Listen up, you mutha fuckin' people of Earth. Us gods are tired of all your bullshit complaining about how fucked up the world is. Ya'll go on and on about how we let evil run rampant and how life isn't fair. Of course, you causally forget that when we gave you this existence it was god damned perfect, and that it was ya'lls stupid ass decision to create money, and borders, and wars. It was ya'll and not us who fucked up the environment and polluted this once beautiful planet. Seriously, this place has become so shitty that we don't even need a hell anymore. But y'all don't need to worry. We've decided to finally give you what you want. We've decided to let one of you ignorant, ungrateful, selfish pieces of shit rule for the next thousand years. Yup, you think you can do better, well here's your mutha fuckin' chance. From now on you can take your prayers (or should I say whinings) to Sarah in Akron, OH. She's your new deity. Good luck getting ahold of her right now because she's smokin a bowl with her friends. But, I'm sure once you start worshipping her, she'll make it all better. Peace out bitches, see you in a millennium. | 2014-07-28T09:33:03 | 2014-07-28T09:24:21 | 358 | 25 |
[WP] Looking into the camera on your phone you jokingly say, "Hey, NSA, if you want to go out on a date, gimme a call!" To your surprise, suddenly the phone rings! "H-hello?" "Hi! I'm from the NSA." | “I’m sorry?”
“You asked me out, didn’t you? I’m Mark. Work for the NSA. So meet you at Bamboo Inn at eight?” There was a drawn-out silence as I processed what he said.
“Wait, how did you…?” I eventually said.
“Know your favourite restaurant? Well, your phone’s GPS data has you visiting there quite often. Worryingly often, in fact. It’s what got you on the watch list on the first place.”
“Oh,” I said. His voice was smooth. It was a crime that he was cooped up in some dingy government office rather than reading audio books or working on some pay-per-minute phone line. “Okay, I’m sorry, but this is moving so fast. How do you know we’re going to get along?”
“I’m currently scrolling through your internet history.”
“What?”
“Oh yes. Its quite interesting. Did you know that most people believe that we can’t see your incognito history?”
“You can?” Every website I had incognito’d over the past few months flashed through my head. I cringed.
“Of course! In fact, we pay more attention to it than your normal-”
“M-my brother shares my laptop!”
He laughed. God, his laugh was nice. Despite the embarrassment, I couldn’t help but smile. “Of course. So see you at eight?”
I sighed. It’s not like I had any other plans. And, anyway, if he’d seen my browser history and hadn’t bolted, then chances are there wasn’t anything else about me that could freak him out.
“Yes!”
“Sweet! I’ll be wearing a blue tie.”
“I’ll be wearing-“
“Don’t worry. I know what you look like.”
He hung up with a click. | "W-what?" I said stuttering into the phone. This couldn't be real.
"I'm Nicole, from the NSA!" said the voice on the phone. "I heard what you said into the camera, and I have to say, for the past couple of weeks I've had the biggest crush on you."
A cueball dropped from my the inside of my chest to my stomach.
"Are you serious.." I said, "the NSA has been spying on me for weeks?"
"Well no, I personally have been assigned to you for weeks. We've been spying on you for years though."
I hung up and slammed my dorm room door shut and slid down against it, slamming my tailbone into the hard carpet. I wasn't sure what to think, how could the government be doing this to an ordinary college kid? Was this girl really interested in me? Was I really that desperate that I even considered the thought of trying to figure out more information about her?
My phone vibrated on the floor in front of me, it was another blocked call. Out of what I can only assume to be desperation, I answered again.
"That was rude of you, Sam" the girl said, before giggling.
"What do you want from me?"
"I already told" she replied, "I want to go out on a date!"
'This is absolutely ridiculous' I thought to myself, 'hang up the phone!'
Instead I said "But I don't even know what you look like!"
"Well you're just going to have to trust me Sam, I know your preferences and I'm definitely the type of girl you would be interested in" she said, before giggling again.
'Well shit, what do I have to lose' I thought to myself before saying, "Okay, sure I'll take you on a date. But could I at least have your real phone number so I can get to know you better."
"5..5..5" started the girl, "2..3..pfffttt"
"Sorry what was that?" I said eagerly.
This time her giggling got louder and turned into full blown laughter. Before I could say anything she hung up. I could still here the girls laughter though, and it was coming from my roommates bedroom.
My cheeks turned red before I yelled out to them, "I knew it was you, I could hear you the whole time!"
More laughter came from the room. I got up, turned off my light and curled up into a ball underneath my blanket. Freshman year of college was going to be tough.
| 2015-02-20T17:50:36 | 2015-02-20T17:09:46 | 50 | 22 |
[WP] You are 100% convinced that you are the sole surviving member of the human race, despite the fact that today is your first appointment with a shrink for the very same reason. | It was a necessary chore, attending these sessions. Without a minimal functional certification of mental health, he would lose access to the colony's automated systems, the only thing now keeping him alive. It was just one of the hoops he had to jump through, and by far his least favourite.
"Hello again ... Technician Chang." The waxy mannequin face of the therapeutic droid jerked creepily into life as its tinny voice ran through the same pre-recorded lines. "How are you feeling today?"
"Just fine, doc." His reply came through a strained smile, carefully ticking all the boxes in the droid's mental health and wellbeing checklist. "A little lonely, but I keep active."
"Why do you think you are ... lonely?"
"Oh I don't know, doc. I think it's something to do with that meteor shower killing everyone else in the colony, you remember?"
The droid's head tilted slightly in a mimicry of thoughtfulness.
"You have spoken of this before ... The system shows no record of such an event."
"Well no, not after the mainframe was smashed to pieces by all that space rock. It's a miracle anything survived."
"Do you consider yourself ... divine ... Technician Chang?"
"No," he sighed. "Just unlucky. It's not that kind of miracle." He rubbed his face, already fatigued by the talk. "Can we just skip to the part where you diagnose me with colonist isolational delusional disorder and give me my partial systems access for the month?"
The droid's head tilted to the side again erratically.
"There is no need for hostility ... Technician Chang."
He threw up his hands, suddenly afraid.
"No hostility, doc, no hostility." He beamed, manically, in an attempt at friendliness. "Everybody's calm here. Please continue. I'm cooperating."
The remainder of the session continued as normal, he answered the droid's questions about his habits succinctly, his voice draining of life with every question.
When it was done, he snapped up his systems access and quick marched out of the wellness assessment room toward the mess and his monthly ration of alcohol, fuming and miserable, as he always did.
The droid waited a moment, until a section of wall behind it slid to one side and turned to greet the men in white coats much more smoothly than it had moved before Chang. Its voice was more sophisticated and less mechanical now, very nearly human, with that undertone of silicon that was mandated for almost all humanoid constructs.
"The subject is showing more strain with every session, doctors, as I'm sure you've seen."
"Yes," said the foremost of the scientists as he distractedly scribbled on a notepad. "Yes, it is fascinating. The machine is utterly convinced that it's human, with all the human frailties."
He turned to his colleagues.
"Soon we'll see if an AI can go insane." | ''*So, mr. Ao, why are you so convinced that you are the sole surviving human, when you are as a matter of fact speaking to one right now?*''
It is a curious case, mr. Ao, a small-time short-story writer and indie movie maker, believes that all of mankind has died out, and that he is the only remaining human alive. Curious case indeed. He has utterly rejected the fact that other humans are still alive, even if they are standing right next to him, and speaking with him.
''*You're obviously a synthetic replacement of some sort. Bio-droid? Hard-light hologram? Alien in a good costume maybe? Hell if I know, but you aren't human, not even in the slightest. You're a good imitation, I'll give you that.*''
That wannabe-doctor robot-alien thing cannot comprehend it, it isn't really programmed to it. Of course I am the last member of the human race, because as realistic as these synthetic creatures are, they can't do it right. They aren't blinking right, not speaking right. Can't even consume food the right way. They are close but no cigar. Only they have been replaced though, dogs, cats and birds still seem relatively normal, if a bit spooked by those damned synths.
''*How can you be so certain of that? I am as human as can be. I am the very model of a modern major-psychiatrist. And I woke up this morning, kissed my wife goodbye, went to work and drank my coffee. How can I not be human? I am as much flesh and blood as you are!*''
Tough nut to crack, this mr. Ao. Completely convinced that humanity is dead. Must be tough for him. At least he isn't violent or dangerous because of his errant belief. He still seems sort of reasonable. Maybe I could convince him if we went to the hospital and got an x-ray reading of me or someone else? That might work.
''*Let me be straight with you doc' I have considered the possibility. That was why I decided to do like a scientist and test my hypothesis. I went out last night and caught a drunkard sleeping on the streets, I woke him and took him to my home. Then I cut him. I opened him up and saw that he wasn't guts and organs on the inside. I might be crazy, but now I have evidence that you have been replaced by synths!*''
The doctor seems to be highly scared, good synthetic emotions, I give him the pictures and his face changes from horror to perfect surprise. I took a lot of pictures of the metallic organs inside the drunken fool. That should prove that I am the last living person alive!
''*Well this certainly changes thing. I... Can't refute this, so many pictures of metal and plastic, does this mean that I am fake as well? I... I am married and my wife is pregnant. Is that fake too? What can I do?*''
The pictures... they all show plastic and metal and wires coming out of a huge dead fat guy, not photoshop, not any observable fabrication. Am I real? Am I an android? Do I dream of electronic sheep or something?
''*If you want to do something, help me. Get me out of here. I might be crazy, but I am possibly the last human. If you want to make your life have some meaning, help me get out and avenge humanity!*'' | 2015-04-10T05:30:14 | 2015-04-10T00:38:24 | 318 | 54 |
[WP] You don't realize you're the villain till the hero tells you | I did not know.
I just wanted the best for him, I wanted him to succeed. I helped him cruise through High School, excel in University, and connected him to a respectable job.
He told me today that he wanted desperately to be his own man. That he has lost interest in everything around him. I just wish he had told me in person, rather than through a note. I am a murderer. | "'Scuse me?"
"Oh *come on*. You had to know."
"No, Captain Save 'Em, I *don't* know that I'm the *villain*."
"Dude, think about it. You're smart, okay? WE GET IT. You're *such* a know-it-all. Villains are *always* like that."
" - "
"You *think* about things too much. THIS IS SERIOUS. And you're act like it's a fucking *riddle*. A *game*. You're too *calm*. Whereas *I*..."
Oh, here we go...
"*I* have *heart*. You've got no fucking *feelings*. Too cold. No emotions. You don't *care* enough. I *care*."
"What's this about, exactly?"
"She's *mine*, asshole. We were meant for each other. You've tricked her for now. But she'll see. You'll *both* see."
Every schmuck needs his own narrative... | 2015-04-17T23:16:28 | 2015-04-17T22:28:05 | 1,146 | 23 |
[WP] a popular children's TV show that generally follows a basic template suddenly has a horrific and disastrous turn in the plot
I.e. Doc mcstuffins can't fix one her her beheaded toys...and go | "Today's episode is brought to you by the letter H, and the number 13!"
"Yay!" said Ernie, his muppety mouth gaping open as he wiggled his whole body like a puppet possessed.
"H is for Hemorrhoids! And 13 is the number of them I have on my backside," continued Big Bird.
"Um," said Ernie, mouth firmly closed.
"What are hemorrhoids, Big Bird?" asked one of the guest child stars seated to his left.
"Well, Johnny, hemorrhoids are something you get when you share a bathroom with a talking garbage can."
"Go fuck yourself," suggested Oscar the Grouch, sticking a fuzzy green middle finger out from under his lid.
"Big Bird?" asked Johnny, his lower lip trembling.
"What, kid? Too real for you?" As he spoke, Big Bird leaned in close, his avian breath striking Johnny full in the face. "Well, it's too *fake* for me. I quit."
Turning, Big Bird began to flap his ridiculous, tiny yellow wings, and against all odds they lifted him into the air. Off he went, away over the edge of the buildings, pausing only to defecate on Bert's 2004 Toyota Camry. | "That was fun," said Mary, giggling. She and Caleb were still catching their breath from the Wacky Wormhole game. "Now it's time for questions from viewers like you."
Caleb fished through a large sack and pulled out an envelope. "This one's from Hiram, in Fairbanks," he said. "Dear Caleb and Mary, how do I get a job as one of the hosts on KidsTime with you two?"
Mary and Caleb laughed. "Great question, Hiram," said Mary. "Study hard, eat your vegetables, and come to our auditions in June."
Caleb opened another letter. "This letter is from Esther in Anchorage. Dear KidsTime, have either of you been promised?" Caleb shook his head. "Not yet, but my parents say it should happen soon."
Mary's smile disappeared. "I have. My parents promised me to one of my father's friends after his wife passed away."
Caleb didn't seem to pick up on his co-host's distress. "Congratulations, Mary!" He pulled out another letter. "Isaiah in Juneau asks, I've got a KidsTime challenge for you. Name every one of the United States in less than a minute."
Mary was smiling once again. "Ooh, that's tough. Well, there's Alaska, of course," said Mary.
"Right," said Caleb. "And Zone 15, Zone 18, and...I know I'm forgetting something."
"The Forbidden Zone," said Mary. "And that's all of them, I'm pretty sure."
"Great job, Mary. Well, that's all the viewer questions for this week," said Caleb. "Please tune in next week and keep sending in your questions. And until next time..."
Caleb and Mary both stood up straight and put their hands on their hearts. "...Hail Paul, our glorious protector." | 2015-05-17T10:06:12 | 2015-05-17T08:35:42 | 38 | 23 |
[WP] You have just died. The Good News is that there is an afterlife. The Bad News is that it isn't Heaven. Or Hell. Or Purgatory. And you aren't a Ghost. In fact, the afterlife is something that no sane human being would ever predict, and has most likely never been written down.
Go balls to the wall crazy with this. Think of the most outlandish afterlife your brain can muster. Thanks and have fun! | I expected nothing. Not to say that I expected nothing*ness*, I just expected there to be nothing. An end of consciousness and awareness. I didn't expect this. But these things happen sometimes, I suppose.
I remember being a kid, and my parents telling me that if I was a good boy, I would go to heaven some day. They told me this all the way until college, where I discovered that I didn't *have* to believe in anything, really. I was never really convinced that Heaven was real, I just felt like I had to believe because it was the right thing to do.
But this. This is far beyond anything the preachers and visionaries could have ever imagined. Suddenly, I was so vast and limitless that I could experience a hundred lives at a time. A million. Nothingness? Ha. I've learned about *everythingness*.
And then I start regaining full awareness. *I am god*, I think.
*We all are*, said somebody near me.
*What? Where am I? I didn't say that out loud!*
*Come on, Jeff. Don't be an asshole.*
I open my eyes. I'm in our circle. The bong is almost back round to me. *Ah,* I think, *I love these mind-narrowing drugs.*
I take another rip, and my mother has her first contraction. | You are dead, or are you really? You have been an atheist, all your live. Well most of it, sometimes you have ventured into agnosticism, but mostly you have been an atheist. So why the hell, can you still think, you remember being alive, you remember the doctor saying that it would all over soon, then pushing the piston on the syringe of the barbiturate into the catheter attached to your arm. And now what? You have absolutely no sensorial input, you can't feel anything, you have no material body at all. What are you now then? Now you are a consciousness floating in the void, since you have absolutely no weight you are left in the exact same position, i know position is relative, but lets talk relative to the actual centre of the universe, so Earth is long gone. Not that it will make any difference to you, you did not even notice it. Oh i see i have not answered the question. And now what? Well ... Now you ... There is not really much you can do, you can think, try to dream things, pretend you are still alive, try to relive your life, since obviously you remember everything. But there is not much point to it. You think everybody else is just like you, a floating conscience somewhere in the vast void. Can you communicate with them? Oh, of course not, that would require a body. What about brainwaves, you might ask. You do not have a brain anymore, nothing at all, just your thoughts, what a religious person would call your soul, yes that really exists and yes that really lives on. Surprising, i know right. So? Does that mean there is a god? You do not know, how would he talk to you, how would you listen? By now you are probably asking yourself, who am I, this person sitting here having a conversation with you? I am you, your thoughts, just a creation of your imagination, to steer you away from the madness that loneliness and boredom will certainly create. Oh, my. I have said to much haven't I? Well time to leave. Bye! | 2015-10-18T21:30:06 | 2015-10-18T20:21:54 | 135 | 23 |
[WP] "Like this if you love Jesus. Ignore if you love the Devil." "Not this stupid crap again", you think to yourself. You scroll past it and continue wasting time on your home computer. Five seconds later you hear a knock at your front door. It's the Devil, holding a bouquet of roses. | I had a plan to get both of them to stop harassing me. I loaded up my friend David's Facebook page, and scrolled down to the post. Then I unlocked my phone, and had John forward the text.
I sighed, closed my eyes, and waited five seconds. The knock at the door. Ten seconds. The wailing from the kitchen. I smiled and ran to the door.
"Hello, Mi-" the red devil started.
"Hello, Satan," I said, nonchalantly. "Satan, I'd like you to meet a good friend of mine. Satan, this is 'That Dead Girl Who Will Kill You If You Don't Pass Her Letter Along.' And 'That Dead Girl Who Will Kill You If You Don't Pass Her Letter Along', this is Satan."
The plan was almost perfect. Almost, because three years later, Satan's knocking at my door again. And he's asking me to be his best man at their wedding. | The knocking grew more insistent. He always knocked in groups of three or seven. He did most things in threes and sevens, some sort of habit 'left over from my days in the garden'. The light switches were endearing--in the beginning--but the toilet flushing was always annoying, and he always burned toast, not to mention what went on in the bedroom. Once he had even written a love poem that rhymed every six-hundred-and-sixty-sixth line, but we both knew that he was just being obnoxious. Of course, by that point it was well apparent that it was all but over, and had been for a long time.
'Time in the garden, babe' my ass. He was only there for a day, tops. He used to say my mother was dramatic.
'Baby, please.'
'...'
'I brought roses.'
'...'
'A beautiful bouquet, from France. I picked them myself. Six hundred and sixty-six pristine red ro--'
The force of the Bible hitting the door sent the cat scrambling under the couch, and jarred two pictures crooked on the adjacent wall. I had grown to find the solid wet thump soothing, though the door was quickly becoming unattractively dented.
Shame the Bibles didn't last longer. The priests stopped asking questions ages ago, and holy water isn't exactly in short supply. Unfortunately, after being soaked, the ink tends to run after a handful of good throws. Three, maybe seven if you're lucky.
I'll stop by after the post office tomorrow, I guess. It's on the way. | 2015-10-22T07:28:18 | 2015-10-22T02:38:50 | 179 | 47 |
[WP] You have a soundtrack that plays music appropriate to whatever situation you are currently in. You can consistently hear the music which is why you're terrified when you awake to the sound of screeching violins at 4am. | All my life, I've been hearing music randomly. Sounds kind of stupid, but it helps me in situations. For example, I was talking to a girl in school today and the "awkward" music came on. I knew this was my time to just roll out and leave her alone.
The music would shut off when I went to sleep. I don't know if it actually shut off, or if I was just asleep and didn't hear it. Either way, I wouldn't hear it while I was asleep - or so I thought.
I was awoken at 4:00 AM by the loudest screeching noise that you could think of right now. Imagine your teacher with a chalk in her hand, writing on the chalkboard. Remember the little screeches? Now imagine that, but multiply the noise by almost 100 fold. That's how I felt right now.
I knew something was wrong, but what it could it be? I've never heard this music in my life before, and watching scary movies, I knew not to get up. But what did I do? That's right - the stupidest thing. I got up.
I still question to this day why I got up. It was probably the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life. As soon as I got up, the screeching sound disappeared. I was relieved, but what if it happens again? Who knew. Anyways, I really needed to use the washroom.
I open up the lights, and half asleep I was peeing. It was only until I looked in the mirror I realized something was HORRIBLY wrong. I opened up my eyes a bit more, and there she was. Standing right behind me. Her hair covering her face but her laugh was the worst part of it all. I instantly fainted. I woke up the next morning, remembering the last thing she said to me. "I'll come back for you."
I haven't slept since then. | I wake with a jolt and for a second wonder why I am awake. The curtains are still quite dark and I can't see any light coming from the crack under my door. I glance over at my illuminated clock and see 4:00 AM, what?! I am the type of girl who sleeps in until 1. 4:30 in the morning is as far away from 1 as it gets. Then I hear the violins. I gasp and feel my head hit the top of my headboard with a loud crack. I have never heard this type of music coming out of my headphones. Suddenly I hear the screeching of the violins reach such a pitch that all I want to do is pull the elegant canopy from my bed and hide under it for the rest of my teenage life.
A light flickers on in the hallway and I try to form my body into an even smaller ball than I already am in. The light isn't the hall light or even a flashlight which would have calmed me slightly knowing the light could wake my parents up. No, the light is a flickering light that can only come from a candle.
A single floorboard creaks as I sit shivering on my bed. My teeth are chattering so fast that I can barely hear the violins. I don't bother to turn off the music because I know that no one else can hear it. It's as though there is a headphone inside my hearing aid. I look over at the window and groan again at not choosing the room with a balcony. Even though I have no clue whether the person in the hall is a threat my mind has already flown through every possible escape route and it's not looking too good. I can almost hear the television saying:
"Teen girl murdered in her bed, cold blood murderer still at large,"
The door handle turns and I want to run at the door screaming and at the same time feel the complete inability to move at all. I feel the seconds crawling by as the door handle turns farther and farther until the door opens.
I open my mouth in a scream but no sound comes out. The music is missing and I feel my body tensing as the cloaked figure comes slowly forward. I see the gleam of a silver knife and hear feel my legs go numb. My toes are tingling in a way that I've only ever felt my stomach do and I stare as the knife twirls head over end straight into my chest. I let out a soft "Oh!" and feel my consciousness fade as the excruciating pain comes through and blood starts pouring out. | 2015-11-24T19:32:25 | 2015-11-24T15:16:02 | 87 | 22 |
[WP] You are born with the ability to stop time, but one day you see something else is moving when you have already stopped time. | "This isn't possible," I repeated for maybe the fiftieth time. The man in front of my calmly sipped his coffee, apparently totally unbothered by everyone else's ceasing to move.
I looked around at the rest of the café. As with every other time, it was solid. I don't mean, like, it had all stopped - I mean, that's what it *looked* like, but it was so much more than that. If I was to throw some sugar into the air, it would have just hung there. No momentum. No movement. Like a solid mass, floating in the air.
*But how could he be moving?*
"You're not *really* stopping time, you know," the man smiled cryptically, as if in response to my thought.
"Sorry?"
"See, actually stopping time would be... very bad," he continued. His tone was like a Nobel Prize winner's when he has to explain to a five-year-old why fighting against a certain type of cooties is important. "So you don't really stop it. Essentially, time is still moving - it's just moving very, *very* slowly. So slowly, it seems like everything is standing still. But it's not, as I assume you can see." He smiled again - God, what a smug smile! Like he had all the answers!
"Alright, then, genius," I frowned, more than a little frustrated with the condescension. "How are you moving?"
"Quickly," he replied almost instantly. He'd been waiting for that question, the prick. "Very quickly. So quickly that, even as time has slowed to a crawl... I still move as normal. Clever, isn't it?" There was that smug smile again.
"...So why me?" I asked. "You can move so fast, what're you bothering with a loser like me for?"
"I don't think you're a loser," the man frowned, his expression faltering for the first time. "I think, if you wanted to, you could be a hero. All it would take is proper creative application of your powers. Now, could you do me a favour and return time to normal? If I tried to move as-is, the friction would be catastrophic."
Still not sure what he was on about, I nevertheless nodded, and concentrated a little. I could feel a bit of sweat form on my forehead as I gritted my teeth. Finally, like a switch had been flipped, the noise and commotion of everyday life returned. The man in the wheelchair smiled again.
"I think this could be the start of an interesting little endeavour," he grinned.
-----
This story is a continuation of [this earlier post](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4n2u8e/wp_everyone_is_born_with_a_disability_and_an/d40jipo). | I was seventeen years old, that's counting the time I actually moved through with everybody else. I cannot account for the 'time' I have spent suspended, there was simply no way to measure that, no clocks, no day and night. The only thing that moved was me, well to some degree. After I unstopped the time I always ended up in the same state I stopped it at, no matter what. Once I wandered all the way to Mexico, quite an adventure considering I had to make the whole journey on my feet, took me few months at least. I think. The blisters that I got during that, bloddy mess, but no matter. As I mentioned I returned to the very same state I have stopped the time at. As If I haven't moved an inch. You could say I've lived at least few lifetimes. But that's no life I got to tell you, the excitment wears pretty qucikly. With all that time I had I could have been the smartest person there is. I didn't even have to learn all of the things, just stop the time when needed and read on the necessary. I've read many books. Couple thousand at least. I lost the count. Going to school stopped being interesting after I peeked under every girls dress. My mind may have been centuries old, it was telling me no, but my body, it was telling me yes. I have never gone further than that. Just a peek. I eagrly awaited the time I turn eighteen, but as the time passed I grew more impatient. I just wished I was older, I just wished I could finally be considered the adult that I really am. I wished I could speed up the time instead of stopping it. The day of my birthday came closer and closer, finally I would be an adult. I stopped the time more often and often, I wanted to savor that feeling, I finally was excited for something. Two days before my birthday I felt a slight warm breeze at the back of my neck. I quickly unstopped the time, I was petrified. It was the first time I felt something like this. I was afraid to stop the time again, but I was somehow drawn to it, something new, a fresh feeling. I stopped the time again. I felt a slight touch on my hand, like someone wanted to grab me but couldn't. I panicked, I didn't even take a look, I unstopped the time. My hand hurt, it hurt badly, like something was pulling it apart. But I wouldn't give up, I couldn't. I had to be braver I told myself. I am no child. I stopped the time.
- Hello. - Said the voice behind my back.
- Hello. - I answered, but I couldn't turn to see whose voice it was, altough it was oddly familiar.
- It's time to choose. Choose but wisely. There is no return.
- Time to choose what?
- Time to choose.
- But time to choose what? - I asked angrily.
- Precisely, the time. - He whispered into my ear.
- I don't understand, who are you?
- No matter who I am. You must choose, what will you choose? Time or no time? Choose quickly, as there is no time.
- I choose time. - I yelled.
I came back and I was no child, no more.
PS: I'm not that great at english, and it really is only my third story written in it besides the two i wrote yesterday, so I would greatly appreciate any tips.
| 2016-06-19T05:03:39 | 2016-06-19T03:54:17 | 667 | 48 |
[WP] In the year 2200, an IQ test with 100% accuracy is invented. IQ becomes the universal grade of intelligence. By law, everyone has to take the test at 18. You’re a perfectly normal university student with a part time job but now you've got to explain to everyone why the test shows your IQ is 0. | "What do you mean it says zero?" the major bellowed. "Did you eggheads forget an electrode?" He turned and stared at me through the glass. I think I had gone cross-eyed by that point.
"Uh, no sir, it would be reporting NULL if there was no connection." One of the anonymous men in lab coats tentatively replied. He had stupid glasses. He pushed them up on his nose, nervously.
"Is he dead?"
"Uhm, unlikely. The empirical lower bound is, uhh, 15, sir. That's what the uhh... the Salmon Test showed." Another anonymous lab coat replied. The only thing I remember about him is that he had disheveled red hair.
"The Salmon Test?"
"We tested the device on a dead salmon. Since it's an active probe, it can detect residual neural pathways, even in non-living specimens. Cadavers usually measure at about 25." Beads of sweat had started forming at his hairline.
I think that's when the bit of drool hit my chest. It's hard to form memories when I'm in the zone.
"So, is he stupid?"
"Uhh, no, sir, we think it might, uhh, be the exact opposite. We think he might, uhh, be gaming the machine"
Busted!
"Don't fuck with me, son. Why would he want to game the machine?"
"We, uhm.. well, we don't know. He's been non-communicative since we started testing."
Ha! I've been "non-communicative" for, jesus, 5 years now? Time flies in the Himalayas.
"Well, I know how to get him to talk." The major bristled to attention and started walking to the door.
Time to really fuck with them. I felt my eyes roll back.
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit." one of the lab coats started murmuring. I couldn't figure out which timeline he belonged to, let alone which lab coat he was. "Sir, excuse me, but he's registering at -20 now."
"What the fu--"
The ground started humming. That was new. I tried to move it up to the walls.
"Negative 26"
Everything was blurry. I lost track of which direction time was moving.
"Negative 32"
Must have still been moving forward. I tried to get the walls to harmonize with the floor.
"Negative 35"
A drop of liquid hit my chest. That might have been the nosebleed? Could have just been another bit of drool. I felt all of their anxiety, their fear. The red-haired lab coat worried I would make him shit himself. Stupid Glasses realized I was in his mind and tried to plead with me. The major was thinking of his wife and twin daughters, hoping they would be strong after he died. I'd probably made my point.
I snapped out and wiped the blood and drool from my chest, while holding eye contact with the major. I scanned the room, all of the lab coats were staring at me. None of them noticed the score on the machine rising sharply. I locked eyes with Stupid Glasses, since he was the closest to understanding. I stood up, put my finger to my lips, and as I exhaled a quiet "shh", I surged the console into a display of sparks and shattered the glass between us. I yanked the electrodes off of me, walked through the broken window, and headed to the door. All of them stood frozen, still staring at me. As I reached for the door handle, I looked back at all of them, and for the first time in years, I spoke. My voice hoarsely crackled a warning, "Leave all this be. Bad juju."
As I closed the door behind me, the red-haired lab coat shit himself, but I swear to god, that wasn't me. | Food for Thought
Most people are smart enough to stay out of trouble. According to my test results, I am not. The supporting evidence was the fact I was waiting in an interview room. Everyone knows the staple of classic B grade TV crime shows. I had my single chair seated in the middle of a large steel table. The double sided mirror showed my reflection, a scared teen in a shirt and jeans. I don't look a day older than eighteen. Will my looks shift tomorrow? Food for thought.
What I was learning was that interview rooms were very, very well designed. I could appreciate that as a design student. From first glance its just a room with four walls, three chairs, a table and a mirror. Their is no air conditioning. Probably no one wants to let actual criminals to be comfortable. Is being an idiot a crime? Food for thought. What it actually meant was I was just slightly sweaty. Not anything major but just enough to notice. For it to become uncomfortable. I could shift in my chair (the criminal's chair) but it was bolted to the ground. As was the table. The space between the chair back and the table was less than a foot. One cannot leap up from such a space. Or be really threatening at all.
The door is even designed. I watch it open inwards towards the door. I guess so there is no space to hide? In walked four people. I was expecting a good cop and a bad cop. Maybe too much TV. One was an police officer, a giant of a man. He walked past and stood behind me to the right. By design. He loomed in the corner of my eye, knowing any movement towards the door had to move by him. The other three looked at the two seats and a minute power struggle occured, and by that there was a pause before the youngest male moved to the side. Definitely not in front of the mirror and the guests behind it. A man and a woman took a seat across from me.
"Good afternoon Mr. Johnson, and may I wish you a happy birthday. I am Lawrence Stevens and I work with Bureau of Standardised Intelligence. This is Sarah Peters with the Bureau of Statistics. To you right is Peter Black who has generously provided his legal expertise and lastly Officer Lane."
A round of hellos and head nods with the occasional happy birthday. Officer Lane simply inclined his head. Small talk introductions went in one ear and out the other.
"Excuse me but why am I here?"
Did you know silence sometimes has a sound. An incredulous silence met my question, along with a smattering of eye contact. Ms. Peters cleared her throat and spoke up.
"You do know the results of your SIQ test Mr. Johnson?"
"Of course. I was more wondering why we are in a police interview room. Have I committed a crime of some sort?"
"Of course not! This is simply both a convenience and caution. The station was the closest area with the appropriate equipment and the security that our civil servants provide is just a bonus!"
Peter Black was most definitely a lawyer, and lawyers really could smile like a shark. Food for thought. Mr. Stevens spoke up.
"Its just you are an outlier Mr. Johnson. We have been administering this test for over a century. Using the information we have been able to make major advancements for the good of humanity. This is. Worrisome."
"Its just a test score. Is this really such a big deal?"
"You got a 0." Officer Lane sounded like a well trodden gravel path. Maybe the man was genetically engineered to be intimidating? Food for thought.
"Yes, you did indeed. And that puts pressure on our entire system of testing. So we just need to go over everything you did so we can find out why your IQ test. Describe your day please."
"I had breakfast with my family. You know, because its my birthday. Had an early lecture for History of Design I decided against skipping. I went and sat the Standardised Intelligence Quota test and I was going to work when you all pulled me in here."
The was a moment where they absorbed the fact I had a completely normal day.
"But what did you do on the test? Did you fill it all out? It is not possibly to get a 0!"
"I don't know. I've been so swamped lately with everything and the test on top of it. I thought I didn't need to do anything major for it. I thought ..."
"What did you think Mr. Johnson?" Ms. Peters had a notepad ready and everything.
"That's the thing. I didn't think." | 2016-08-19T00:50:27 | 2016-08-19T00:26:43 | 200 | 27 |
[WP] In a world where people can only see in black and white, you are a drug dealer that sells drugs that allow people to see color. | Sonia and Andrew walked the streets in a daze, clutching onto one another for support. It was too much.
"What do *you* see, this time? What does it look like?" Sonia whispered, staring at the sky.
Andrew paused, and searched for the right words through the haze of the drug. "I...it's, well, it's..."
"It made me sad the last time. But now it's the same colour as the water. It makes me feel like...I'm floating. Calm," she said, at the same time that he blurted 'angry'.
They frowned at one another, and began bickering about the effects of the drug and what they saw. Again. Their dealer, Aron - the creator of the drug that carried the streetname Blaze, had specifically warned them against that. 'Just enjoy it, don't talk about what you see', he'd said. But who could do that?
After an exhausting hour of trying to agree on anything, they decided to visit him again. He wouldn't have more of it since they'd stopped by last week - the drug was in too high demand. But they could ask him for the truth. He would know, if anyone did.
"Let's go, before it wears off again," Sophia said. It was their last samples of the drug which was in its 'test stage', Aron had said. People were still fighting to take it off his hands.
But when they got to his house, the door was locked. A crowd of muttering, disgruntled people milled in the street.
"Where's Aron?" Andrew asked the nearest person.
"Split," the man snapped. "Probably gone off to sell somewhere else. Make as much money as possible, I guess. I just can't believe...I need it. The sky. The sky was so deep and warm. Like the earth, but richer, somehow, you know?"
He locked eyes with them, hopeful that they'd seen what he had seen. That they could give him the words to put to his feelings.
Sophia groped for a way to describe what *she* saw, but the sky was already losing the pulsing vibrancy it had a mere moment ago, as the colours that surrounded her began fading softly back to grey.
-------
Aron pulled the hoodie down his face as he stood on the bridge, and quickly tossed every sample he had in the river. It had been a poor decision to make the stuff in the first place.
Experiment after failed experiment, and still they didn't agree on what they saw. Still every sample came out differently. He hadn't produced the drug for profit or celebrity, as everyone claimed.
He'd just wanted simple conversation about what he had always been able to see. Someone to share his delight in the world that had stunned him since birth. The *true* world.
But all that he'd managed to achieve was a cacophony of disagreement. What if the effect of his drugs accidentally became permanent? What if the arguments - this tortuous uncertainty - never stopped?
The brightly-coloured capsules sank beneath the water. Aron turned away to look at the horizon instead, and watched the vivid sunset by himself.
---------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | A million stars perforated the pure black night sky as the shining white full moon stood in the middle of heavens likes an impatient actor demanding an audience’s attention. Grayscale buildings of brick and stone curved along the black pavement of the roads, creating a maze that we call our city. Standing in a secluded alley where the occasional cat or homeless man interrupted me, I waited for a client. I ran the bags of amethyst through my fingers, a grainy substance meant to be smoked that granted the smoker color vision. When a white van pulled up to the alley, I held my breath.
Eleanor stepped out of the vehicle along with her older and larger brother Clyde, who, no doubt, insisted on coming for her protection. Wrapped in a black trench coat that matched her raven hair, her pale skin almost glowed in the darkness of the night. The click of her hills echoed through the buildings with a defined elegance and tempo, while Clyde stumbled behind her, his footsteps out of beat with her sister’s. Standing next to me, she grabbed a cigarette from her purse hidden under her coat and began to smoke puffs of white smoke next to me.
“So, this amethystinus amphetamine,” she began. “I hear it’s popular among the younger crowd. What exactly does it do?”
“It’s hard to explain to someone who’s never tried it,” I answered. “and please, if you want to appeal to your younger crowd, just call it amethyst.”
“Alright. Well try me. What does amethyst do?”
“It lets you see color.”
“We can already see color. Every shade from white to black.”
“No, no, not like that. This lets you see new colors. An incredible amount of new colors you never thought possible.”
“You’ve tried it?”
“Just once. It was intense. Like skydiving into a new sensation.”
“If that’s your description for it, then I definitely want it to find its way into my nightclub. Is it addictive?”
“Not for me. But I’ve met a more than a few individuals who find black and white so incredibly dull and depressing, they’d rather pay for another hit than live in our drudgery.”
With an agreement met, we worked out a few boring business details and settled on a price: 50 grams of amethysts for $1500, as a trial run. As the transaction closed and I received a small duffle bag of cash, I offered Eleanor a joint of amethysts on the house for the sake of customer loyalty. Reluctant, I tried to encourage her, but she refused, stating it would be bad for business; however, Clyde, curious about colors, interrupted and said he would try it. His sister clearly not thrilled, he insisted and I conceded and gave him the joint. When he lit it up, he seemed disappointed.
“When does it kick in?” he asked, though by the judge that his pupils dilated to the edge of his iris, I would say just about now. Facing the brick wall, he ran his hand over it, muttering, “I’ve never seen a color so…loud and angry and hot before.”
Turning his attention to his own clothes, he ran his fingers over his jeans. “But his color is so much more calming. How can something so loud and hot coexist with something so quiet and cold?”
He rambled about colors and their intrinsic value for a few more minutes while continuing to suck on his joint. A disdain crawled across Eleanor’s face.
“How long will this last?” she inquired.
“About 4-6 hours,” I answered. “You should probably put a muzzle on him before any police see you.”
“I wish,” she replied as she herded her brother into the van. She discreetly drove down the black street as her brother imagined an entire rainbow of imaginary colors. Meanwhile I walked down hidden streets and side paths embracing the simplicity of black and white.
*****
More colorful tales at r/Andrew__Wells | 2016-11-22T06:14:15 | 2016-11-22T05:44:30 | 133 | 21 |
[WP] The year is 2040, and you are the last smoker alive. The "Quit Smoking" ads get personal. | "Well this is a bit excessive," I thought at first, "even for them."
He was everywhere.
After the first week, I named him Xavier. I don't know why, it just seemed to fit. He was a distinguished, handsome, and charming. Exactly the opposite of his target.
It seemed like an odd use of apparently brand new tech, connecting every visible ad together to let an imaginary character follow me around. It didn't matter what ad. He was always there, getting his two cents in about my habits.
The latest Audi commercial, showing a young couple driving along the California coast, "Son," he chimed in from the backseat, "not even this car would get you a woman."
He had a line for everything. Viagra was "coming sooner than you think" and I couldn't even watch porn without him commenting that the local girls weren't really locals, and even if they were... well you get the point.
The friends I still had, while not many, were growing impatient. Their ads didn't star Xavier, and he was sure to remind them that all I had to do was give it up and he'd go away for good.
For whatever kind of software program he was, I thought, he was surprisingly inquisitive. "How'd you know it was coming?" Xavier asked, referring to the mandated shutdown of all tobacco production.
Truth is, I listened to a lunatic online on a hunch and used my life savings to purchase enough smokes to last the foreseeable future. But I wasn't about to start explaining myself to an ad.
I never responded. And never planned to.
"Alright, I give up," I paused for a second and turned to see Xavier pressed up close to the inside of my TV screen, while an ad for Puppy Chow played behind him. He looked far less confident than normal. "I'm begging you to stop smoking. It's the only way they'll let me go."
It took me a second to process exactly what he said.
"Wait, what?"
| I don't know why they care so much. It's not like I'm hurting anyone besides myself.
I rarely smoke in public these days, and when I do it just doesn't feel right. I don't even smoke when reading the newspaper anymore because I can't handle seeing myself on page 7 everyday.
Oh what's John up to today? There he is having a smoke in the alley behind his house. What a bad person. What a bad guy. I hate that John. Always smoking up the place.
Sure, it's not the best thing to be doing or spending my money on, but I like it. I like the way Muhammad's face lites up as he grabs me a pack of cigarettes from his dwindling stock. He's the only person in this city that still sells these cancer sticks. And I'm the only one that buys them. So, we have a bit of a serious relationship.
I keep buying them everyday. He gets to continue operating his store. He's a nice guy, that Mohammad.
Not a lot of people visit his store these days. Mostly because of me. Because I refuse to quit this silly addiction that I love, yet everyone hates me because of.
It's been years since the tobacco riots, and even longer since president Sherman issued a cull order on all drug users. I survived that as a baby and was one of seven people that were grandfathered into the new world as a drug user. I am also the only remaining of those seven babies.
I fear that my days are numbered as the propaganda has become increasingly hateful everyday. Usually limited to the paper, radio, and the occasional television ad ranting about how I am a literal demon sent here to destroy this marvellous fascist society; they have turned most of the electronic billboards in the city centre to ads targeting me.
I've heard rumours of the authority killing Mary Ellesmere after the truce, but I don't think they would do it so blatantly now that I'm the last one left.
My fear is but just that."
Sergent Capolo drops the brown leather bound journal to the floor and stands upright from his crouched position. He turns to the other armoured soldiers standing behind him and gives them a nod. They begin the pour gasoline on the floor of John's apartment. As Sgt. Capolo reaches the door he pauses momentarily and backtracks the room toward John's almost unrecognizable body laying lifeless. Sgt. Capolo crouches next to the body and plucks the package of cigarettes from the chest pocket of Johns work shirt and places them in his breast pocket. He leaves the apartment.
| 2017-02-17T14:17:58 | 2017-02-17T13:15:29 | 25 | 18 |
[WP] Area 51 has four level emergencies for a breakout. Level 3: Armed forces intervention. 2: Public statement. United Nations joint resistance. 1: Worldwide evacuation effort. Use of nuclear weapons permitted. And 0: Call the number on the sticky note (and pray to God his demands aren't too high). | "Sir, we just received the call from the Joint Chiefs. We've been upgraded to level 0."
"...fuck. Go to my office and find the green sticky note on my desk. There's a phone number on it. Send that number a text that reads 'Priority zero'."
"A text message, sir?"
"The guy on the other end, he doesn't...he doesn't really talk much. Send it immediately and let me know what his demands are."
"...this doesn't make sense, sir. The only thing he wants...is a crowbar." |
"Let's just get started already... You know what a Level 0 means. We have to dammit! We're out of options." snarled General Jones.
"Wait!" I shouted. "He's been gone for 3 years. How do we know it's actually him?!?"
"Once you've seen him, heard him, felt his presence, and that hair... You KNOW who it is... now just do it already!"
"But he always seemed so nice. What happened?!?"
"They got to him kid! Now shut up and get to work."
"I've never done it before General. What am I supposed to do?"
The General stomps over to his safe, unlocking it with an fervor not regularly seen on his stoic face.
"Here's the VHS tape. It'll show you everything you need to know..."
As the General sauntered out of the room, I find the ancient looking VCR in the General's quarters. I shove the tape in and terrified to see what I'll find, I push PLAY.
I stare at the TV as the staticky image finally starts to become clear.
"This?!?" I wondered. "This is what would be the only thing in the world that can save us all from his wrath?"
"Sweatin' to the Oldies."
| 2017-03-21T06:25:13 | 2017-03-21T04:28:29 | 40 | 11 |
[WP] A waiter is grating the cheese for you at a restaurant. He askes you when to stop. You choose to remain silent as the cheese starts to pile up | Cheese dusted my pasta.
My waiter, Dennis, flashed me a winning smile. "Enough, sir?"
"I'll tell you when to stop."
"Sounds good."
He grated the lump of parmesan a few seconds more, until the surface of my pasta bolognese was covered in white flecks.
He paused, raised his eyebrows inquiringly, and, when I made no sign, continued grating.
The cheese fell thick. He'd become a little rattled, and was grating quickly. The tendons stood out on his arms.
"Still not enough?" he asked.
"I said I'll tell you when."
He really got into it. His arms blurred, and the parmesan shrank in his hands like a magician's disappearing trick. By the time he'd run out, a one-inch thick layer of parmesan had accumulated on my plate. Not a loop of pasta or blotch of sauce could be seen.
"Enjoy your meal," Dennis said, and turned away.
"More."
"Sir?"
Through clenched teeth, I said, "More!"
Dennis' adam's apple jumped up and down. "At once, sir."
He returned from the kitchen with a full lump of parmesan.
Smiling weakly at me the entire time, he grated the lump furiously. Beads of sweat accumulated at his hairline. The parmesan fell like a Minnesota blizzard. It rose to a height of half a foot and the base of the mound escaped the bounds of the plate.
"Sir, is that enough?" he said.
"What did we agree, Dennis?"
His grating arm slowed. "We agreed that--"
"Don't stop!"
The grating accelerated. "We agreed that you'd tell me when to stop."
I gripped the edge of the table. "That's right."
Another waiter brought out two more blocks of parmesan and Dennis kept grating. He grated until his eyes watered and tears mingled with the sweat coursing down his cheeks. He grated until he had to suck air to put up with the pain in his elbow. He grated until the mound of parmesan reached so far that mini-avalanches fell into my lap.
"Please, sir. Please tell me that's enough. My arm can't take it."
"Keep going."
"I'm begging."
"Keep going."
Three other waiters joined Dennis. They switched from parmesan to emmenthal, cheddar, gouda, and blue. Soon the mound's base touched the far side of the table. The waiters had to hold their arms up to stay above the mound's peak. They cried as they worked.
I overheard a conversation from the table behind me.
Man said, "Do you know what's going on over there?"
"The waiter," Woman said, "he told the customer to tell him when to stop."
"The damn fool." The man thumped his fist against the table. "He's doomed himself."
Dennis had long collapsed from exhaustion and lay twitching on the floor. The entirety of the restaurants' staff -- waiters, supervisors, busboys, and dish cleaners -- were involved in the process, either grating or shuttling cheese. The table had disappeared under the mound. The cheese reached to my nipples. Only the top of my chair emerged from the mound.
The restaurant owner, a heavyset Italian man in a fine suit, brought out three wheels of camembert, kneeled in front of me, and said, "That's the last of the cheese. Please, sir, if there's any decency in you, say it's enough."
I leaned my seat back. I stroked my chin.
Only a nub of camembert remained in a dish boy's hand.
"A liiiiiittle bit more," I said.
The dish boy grated the nub.
"Perfect!"
I jammed my hands into the mound, felt around for my fork and knife, and enjoyed what turned out to be a plate of slightly cold but otherwise delicious pasta. | "Would you like some Parmesan, sir?" I gave a polite smile, my hand with the cheese grater extending out over his pizza.
"Oh, yes please. I like a lot of Parmesan."
I began cranking the handle of the grater, the small metal grating wheel spinning and gnawing bits of cheese off of the fresh block pushed against it.
"Just say when." I add, again, so politely.
I give a slight dusting of Parmesan, but of course, he said he likes a lot, so I continue.
The top of the pizza looks like a fresh snowfall now, bits of Parmesan on every inch of the pizza.
Surely this is enough? I look the man in the eye.
His gaze is squarely set on me. No hint of frivolity dances behind his eyes. He doesn't even glance at the pizza. No, this is more than just a topping to him. This is control. This is a test.
I am a strong pizza waiter. I have weathered larger storms than this, climbed greater mountains (once, I carried seven 16" pizzas to Morese the Obese, the fabled white whale of the pizza community), this mere customer would not be the end of me.
I kept my gaze on him as well, letting a hint of a sneer show.
Goddammit I paid good money for those braces, and they better pay dividends now. A slight reflection of the sun shimmers off of my pearly whites, and directly into his eyes. An easy victory.
Yet, he refuses to blink. No, his eyes even refuse to water. With what must be Shaolin-level skill, he contracts his pupils, defending against my photo-luminescent attack.
My hand gives a small cramp, but I ignore it. Cramps I can stomach. The acidic taste of defeat is something I cannot bear.
How long has it been? I've lost track. I daren't look at the pizza, lest I secede defeat. Surely the cheese must be a mountainous pile by now. Does he even wish to eat this pizza? I doubt it. This man is one who wants only domination. He seeks weak prey, and bends them to his will.
Well he has come to the wrong abode. This is my pepperoni-scented territory, and I defend it with my life.
The sound of grating plastic sounds the chilling fact that the cheese is gone. The entire fresh-cut block of parmesan has been used up. I weep for the pizzas that will go without such a sweet addition. The small plastic hammer that pushes on the back of the cheese to keep it pressed against the wheel grater is now, itself, pushed against the metal.
I do not relent. I dare not give in.
I continue to crank the handle of the grater.
We can both hear the terrible crunching sound as the metal eats the plastic. We both know the cost of our bravado. But my power is stronger.
The sound of the dying grater eats at our ears. I swear for a moment I almost see him wince. I am close. I can taste it. I just need that extra push.
From the back I hear the clacking of my coworker Cindy's heels. She is coming out onto the floor. Cindy and I are close. Closer than just friends. Cindy could be my sister. It's like we're related. Okay we are. Cindy is my sister.
I extend my pinky finger, hidden behind the grater, as a secret sign of needing emergency help. It's a secret symbol hand movement we share. It's very hush-hush. I can only pray she sees me.
"Hello sir." I hear Cindy's voice say.
My god Cindy, you magnificent Bastardess. You always know when an emergency is about. I can always count on you.
"Sir," Cindy says again, her voice taking on a well-practice innocent country lilt. "I seem to have dropped my bra, can you pick it up for me?"
A flit of the eyes, the man's attention strays but for a moment, but the moment signals victory.
Recognizing his defeat, tears swell in his eyes. He grips the edge of the table, knuckles white. He turns his eyes from me and stares at the abomination that is his pizza, a vertiable white-parmesan cliffs of dover.
I lean in to him, so my lips nearly touch his ear. He begins to sob.
I whisper, "When." | 2017-03-21T14:31:07 | 2017-03-21T14:15:23 | 448 | 11 |
[WP] You sit on a bus, thinking to yourself 'Wouldn't it be amazing to hear peoples thoughts?'. A voice replies, 'It is'. | *It is*, a voice said. It was a child's voice, little and playful. *It's great.*
I sat bolt upright in my seat, and accidentally knocked the coffee in the hand of the woman next to me. She glared at me, and then down at the brown flecks spreading across her sleeve.
"Sorry," I muttered, and fumbled for my handkerchief.
She gave me another glare, but she took it and dabbed at her shirt.
*Hello?* I thought. *Who are you?*
*That was clumsy*, it said, a touch reprovingly. *You could have scalded her.*
I looked around the bus. It was full, mostly of commuters like myself with gray suits and grayer faces, but there was single splash of color on the back row. A young girl in a tie-dyed pink t-shirt and a clashing green skirt. She had a pair of head phones on, too large for her small head, and was rocking out to a silent beat with her eyes closed.
*How do you do this?* I asked.
*Look out! Speed bump ahead. She'll spill the coffee again.*
I turned back to my neighbor, just in time to seize the coffee cup that was tilting precariously in her hand. A second later we hit a speed bump, and the cup spat out more brown liquid, this time onto me.
"You're not supposed to bring food and drink onto the bus," I said between gritted teeth.
That just earned me another glare.
*Smooth*, the child said, sarcastically. *Dude, if you were any slicker, you'd slip.*
*Oh, shut up,* I thought. *I have a job interview in twenty minutes, and now my suit is ruined.*
*Tell her she has pretty eyes*, the child said.
*What? No!*
*She thinks you're cute.*
*How-*
*She thinks you have a cute butt. She noticed it when you got on the bus.* Was that a snigger in the child's voice?
The woman pressed my handkerchief back into my hand. Our eyes met for a moment. They *were* pretty eyes. Very pretty. And colorful. Suddenly the child's rags were not the only things on the bus that weren't gray.
"You have very pretty eyes," I blurted out.
And she smiled.
I missed my stop, and nearly missed the interview, but I got the job two weeks later, and got married two years after that. My wife and I took that same bus to work every week day morning until we moved out to the suburbs, but although I looked out for the child, I never saw her or the tie-dyed t-shirt again.
---
*Find more stories to read on your bus ride at* /r/jd_rallage | I turned to my right, glazed eyes looked back at me.
"You're saying you can read minds?"
"mmm mostly but I prefer not to."
"Why not?"
"People's thoughts are nasty things, you don't want to be in your girlfriend's head as she thinks the bouncer could give her a better night than you. I normally have headphones on to prevent them, but like this, few drinks in, it's quiet, like murmur in a bar. You can hear everyone and no one."
He leaned back. As we passed through the notorious red light district, neon lights streamed through and shone on his face. A face that should have come to me sooner because it was plastered on so many billboards. This was Aiguo Bai, former chess champion. One of the only two humans to beat an android in the past 30 years.
What the hell was he doing in the back of a bus?
"Sometimes I travel incognito." Came the response. I hadn't even asked the question.
"Besides, ever since Hiran won the tournament people have pretty much forgotten me. That's life for sloppy seconds."
"Can you, read a machine's thoughts?"
"Yes but it's not thoughts it comes as something else. Like they are processing options removing one after the other until left with the easiest. It's not like the fluid process human's have."
"You need to come with me, at once." I said standing up.
"Why?"
"I think you're the only one who can help Hiran Dutt."
I called for the bus to stop. They pulled over at the next stage. Aiguo tried concentrating but in his state all that came back were images of Hiran in a catatonic state. I hailed a cab we sped in the other direction back to Blessed Rock Mental Institution. I didn't even need to show my ID until the main wing.
We got to room 303 where a single patient sat on his bed with Dr. Seris and two nurses checking vitals. I asked them to take a step back. Aiguo Bai looked at the only man who had beat a mindreader in a chess match; a clairvoyant. Gone were his flamboyant clothes and the smile of a man who could see one step ahead of the rest. Now in his green hospital clothes he seemed to be looking out window although night had already set in.
"This is how he's been for the past 3 weeks. Didn't you know?" I asked.
"I didn't, I've not been bothering with it for some time now."
Aiguo edged closer. Last time Hiran had disguised his thoughts thinking in Sanskrit which Aiguo didn't know. Now he could hear words stream out in English. Hiran's mind was unlocked and oozed out as a normal mind shouldn't.
Aiguo stared at his rival. He placed his hands on Hiran's temple and started to see through his day. "What did you see Hiran?"
"I saw the future, my friend"
"Show me."
I saw Aiguo's face contort, he then let out a yell before standing up. He turned to us still with a look of horror on his face.
"What is it?" I asked.
Instead of a response he placed his hands over his eyes and with yells of pain began to gouge his eyes out.
| 2017-06-01T08:42:41 | 2017-06-01T08:41:52 | 607 | 35 |
[WP] You sit on a bus, thinking to yourself 'Wouldn't it be amazing to hear peoples thoughts?'. A voice replies, 'It is'. | Aaron glanced at the boy leaning against the bus window, music blaring from his headphones. For a second, he contemplated standing, but then the bus hit a pothole and he scooted into the seat by the boy. He never understood people who drowned out the world. Here we were, on a floating rock in space with nothing but death for a billion miles in every direction, and the boy was just pissing that miracle away.
The boy glanced up and met Aaron’s gaze. He rolled his eyes before returning them to the window.
*The hell was that?” Aaron furrowed his brow. Somehow, just his presence was annoying this kid. *God damn kids.*
The boy was dressed in a grey hoodie pulled over his head. His arms crossed at his chest and his body pressed into the window as if he could compress himself in his seat. Aaron snuck a glance, wondering what was going through the kid’s head. He would’ve asked, but the kid didn’t seem like the social type.
*Wouldn’t it be amazing to hear people’s thoughts?* Then he wouldn’t have to wonder, or ask, he’d just know what kind of stick had gone up this kid’s ass.
“It is.”
Aaron looked around, wondering who the boy was talking to. But then the kid turned toward him. “It is,” he repeated, “I’m talking to you.”
“What is?” Aaron asked.
“Hearing people’s thoughts. It’s great.”
Aaron raised a single brow. “Okay,” he said and turned.
“Hey.” The kid tapped his arm and took off his headphones. “Here we are, on a floating rock in space with nothing but death for a billion miles in every direction, don’t you want to see more of this world?”
Aaron’s eyes went wide. He wanted refute the boy, to tell him how ridiculous this situation was, but the boy had repeated his thoughts near word for w0rd.
*This is for real!* “I don’t believe you.” Aaron said.
“Yeah you do.” The boy turned in his seat to give Aaron his full attention. “Do you want to read minds?”
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch. Honestly, I’ve been looking to pass this thing on, but it requires me to find someone that actually believes in this. You legitimately do.”
“Okay, I’ll bite, but not because I believe you, I’m just curious what kind of tricks you have up your sleeve.”
“All it takes is a handshake.”
“Okay?” Aaron extended a hand the boy’s way.
The kid stared, his mouth in an oval. Slowly, a smile spread across his lips and he looked up at Aaron as if gazing upon his savior. He took Aaron’s hand.
The boy closed his eyes. His head hit the back of his seat and a low moan escaped him.
*He’s getting off on this!* Aaron shook his hand out of the boy’s grip with a look of astonishment. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
The boy looked over, still smiling. "Thank you.” He got up and squeezed between Aaron to exit the bus. “By the way,” he said, dropping his headphones into Aaron’s lap. “You’ll need this.”
“What are you talking about? Are you on something?”
But nothing Aaron said could faze the boy’s smile. It spread cheek-to-cheek as if the kid had just won the lottery. “Yeah,” he muttered, “silence.”
All of a sudden, the bus filled with a hundred voices. Some yelled, others whispered, some even screamed. Aaron winced and plugged his ears but the voices did not dampen.
*Why the hell is everyone talking?* He looked around and noticed that nobody was. In fact, the bus was even stopped, the doors open, and the boy from earlier already on the sidewalk.
“Sorry,” his voice said, but his mouth did not move. “But you did ask for it. Good luck.”
The bus doors closed and its engine roared to life, though Aaron could barely hear any of it over the thunderous noise of fifty voices in his head.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations by popular demand, and more! | Jesse pressed his eyes shut. *No one can hear my thoughts, no one can hear my thoughts, no one can hear my
thoughts.*
*Oh, but I can.*
He lifted his lids. He looked around the bus. It rattled and bumped the bored, expressionless faces of the
passengers.
Was it the old man? The little girl? The driver? Was it the bum singing to himself, with the bottle between his legs!?
*No*, Jesse thought. *No one is hearing my thoughts! It's my imagination!*
*No it's not, silly. Over here!*
He looked around again. The voice sounded vaguely feminine, but he couldn't be sure.
*Okay,* he thought. *If you can really read my thoughts, then what animal --*
*It's a trick question,* the voice interrupted. *You were going to say animal but really you were going to think
about an apple.*
Jesse widened his eyes. Again, he scanned the bus. People were turning weirded-out looks his way.
"Who's doing this?" he whispered, in a low tone. "Which one of you is doing it?"
No one heard – or, if they did, they ignored.
The little girl stared at him curiously.
*Are you the little girl?* he thought.
*How's your mother, Jesse?* the voice asked. *How long has it been since she visited?*
"NO!" Jesse bellowed, and now people turned to stare. He forced himself back against the backrest and closed his
eyes. *How do you know about mom?*
*She abandoned you, didn't she!?*
*How long have you been inside my head!? Have you been following me!?*
The driver kept throwing glances at him through the rearview.
*And so did Erin. Is that your girlfriend?*
*Stop. Stop. Stopstopstopstopstop.*
*I have the name "Erin" here, but I can't… oh, yes. A girlfriend. How long?*
*Shutupshutupshutupshutup.*
*A year now. And she didn't even break up with you, did she? No, she just stopped calling. She abandoned you in
that place just like your mom, just like your friends, just like everyone in your life who ever –*
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" Jesse was on his feet now, his back to the window, scanning the crowd inside the bus.
"WHICH ONE OF YOU IS IT!? WHICH ONE OF YOU IS DOING THIS TO ME!?"
The little girl stared. The driver peeked through the rearview. A couple averted their eyes. The bum smiled.
"IS IT YOU!? IS IT YOU, YOU MISERABLE BUM!?" he approached the man. He kicked him. The man laughed. "IT'S
YOU, ISN'T IT!?"
Behind him, he heard the couple, the man telling the girl: "Check it out, bum fight."
*You should kill them. All of them.* The voice said.
"NO! NO, I DON'T WANT TO."
*They left you in that nuthouse. Your mom. Your friends. Erin.*
"I WAS SICK! I WAS SICK, IT WASN'T THEIR FAULT!"
*With no one to take care of you. Kill them. Kill them kill them kill them kill them.*
"SHUT UP! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! SHUT UP!"
Jesse noticed he was on the floor. The bus had stopped. Two large men had walked in and were now making their way to him.
"Sir, come on," one of them said. "Get up."
The man cleaned the dirt from Jesse's beard and straightened his shirt.
"Jesus Christ, the man smells like piss," he told his friend. Together they dragged him out of the bus into the
sunlight.
"Buddy, do you remember the name of your hospital?"
Jesse stared. It was warm, and the bus rattled out of sight down the street, and there were people walking and it
was sunny and he felt good.
"Hey, buddy," the man repeated. "We got a call about an escaped patient, we just need to confirm that it's you. Do
you have any identification? Do you have a name? Can you talk?"
Birds chirped above. Cars went up and down the street, taking their passengers to work, home, friend's house...
the streetlight flashed red, yellow, green, red, yellow, green.
All around, people functioned.
"Jesse," Jesse mumbled. He fell to his knees, tired, and felt the warm sun. "Jesse. My name is Jesse."
*Yes, it is*, the voice said, in a mocking tone inside his head.
| 2017-06-01T10:39:58 | 2017-06-01T09:05:15 | 42 | 31 |
[WP] You're a villain that fell in love with a hero. Though the strongest villain on the planet, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and don't want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain, one too strong for them to beat. | "Too bad, Confoundus, looks like my will was again too strong for your feeble powers" said Artillerella with satisfaction, before making a gun gesture with her index finger and thumb and pretending to blow smoke off it.
It was her signature move, and Confoundus would happily let himself take a thousand of her easily avoidable inferno bombs to the face just to see it one more time.
As he was led away in handcuffs, Confoundus tried to appear defeated and angry, Artillerella loved a bit of anger. He couldn't let her see how happy he really was, it'd break her heart.
Artillerella had come around around at a hard time in Confoudus' life, a time when he found himself struggling for purpose, being a terrifying being that the entire world feared had really grown rather boring. He found himself watching "*A Hero Emerges, the Hero Academy Inside Story*" on TV more and more over the years, looking at the new blood, hoping against hope that finally there'd be someone to challenge him. But every time someone looked promising: Cyclonia, Septeroid, even that overhyped windbag Heatwave, they always ended up the same: cocky, drug-addled layabouts who just went for the easy, weak villains, posed for some newspaper photos and backed down the second any villain worth their salt made a challenge.
Then came Artillerella. She wasn't particularly strong, her only power other than the standard flight, enhanced reflexes etc. was her ability to create meteor-like orbs between her hands and hurl them at her opponents. They exploded with an impressive flash, and looked dazzling to watch, but unfortunately they took a long time to charge, were easy to dodge and really weren't all that useful in actual combat.
Nevertheless she'd captivated Confoundus, she was brave. While Heatwave and his gang of celebrity hangers on partied in a nightclub, she challenged Arachniarch, a villain at least five times her strength, as he threatened to unleash his horde of spiders on an orphanage.
Of course she lost the fight, but she'd fought valiantly, and Confoundus was disheartened to see Heatwave wipe the cocaine off his nose and fly in at the last moment to nab the glory, barely managing to defeat the significantly weakened Arachniarch. Artillerella wasn't even mentioned in the news article the next day.
He fell in love with her. Her coy smile, her little blowing-smoke-off-the-gun victory move, the way she fought with such passion in battle. She was everything he'd ever dreamed of. And so one day, the long-feared return of Confoundus came, it had been oh-so-satisfying to smack down the pompous upstarts that had risen to international fame as the so-called strongest heroes. He beat the best, then the second best, and before long all the remaining heroes cowered in fear.
All but one, Artillerella.
Of course Confoundus could have snapped her mind in two in an instant with his psychic powers, but when he looked at that determined grimace framed by that wavy red hair, he just... couldn't bring himself to do it.
"NO, how can this BE?" he'd said, theatrically.
"My powers" Confoundus had continued, waving his arms like a madman
"Your will, it's too strong, my powers can't touch you..."
And that was when the inferno bomb hit him. Such sweet pain, the burning fury of such a sweet honest soul coalesced into a scorching, searing agony that only he could love. He wanted it again and again.
And so he escaped from prison, and so she, again, "defeated" him. And again. And again and again and again.
This was capture number... nine? Confoundus was pretty sure.
"Best one yet" he thought to himself "she's honest to goodness putting up a fight now, might be one day I don't have to fake it anymore.
His daydream was shattered.
"Confoundus, you pathetic old shite" a self-superior sounding British voice yelled from above him.
"I've never liked you if I'm honest, but lucky for you we're on the same team, so I'll help you out of this one."
Shimmer. A pompous villain who carried two daggers and had the ability to move with astounding speed, even for someone with powers.
"Shimmer!" Artillerella's melodic yet firm voice called, as she flew over to protect the police officers escorting Confoundus away.
"Get out of here, or do you want a visit to the burn ward, too?"
Shimmer laughed.
"The burn ward? Oh come on. Maybe I'd have let it slide if I hadn't just heard that *exact* line from Pyrogladiator yesterday. Every fire hero's been using that one, for decades. Seriously, you're a rookie, let Confoundus go and maybe I won't slash you up too badly." Shimmer said threateningly, holding one of his daggers up to the light.
"Don't know if you've noticed" Artillerella said with a smile
"But my arrest profile doesn't exactly seem too 'rookie' to me. A few years ago even you would be running away from Confoundus, and now I've got him wrapped around my little finger." there was that coy smile Confoundus loved so much.
"Now do what you do best, Shimmer" Artillerella said confidently
"And run on home"
"OK that's it" Shimmer said, turning to Confoundus.
"Seriously? You let *her* take you down? Have you heard these lines? Is it possible to kill yourself with psychic powers? Because if I were you I would have tried by now."
"Enough!" Artillerella yelled, as a glowing sphere lit up between her hands.
Nobody even saw the next move, Shimmer flashed through the air around the orb and slashed at Artillerella with his dagger.
Artillerella was by no means a weak hero, but Shimmer was probably the third or fourth most powerful villain in the world, even Confoundus himself wouldn't have found him to be an easy win.
Blood spattered across the pavement and Artillerella fell from the sky. Confoundus felt tears form in his eyes as he heard her body thump against the ground, and half-heard some witty retort from Shimmer before he sped away.
"My love" Confoundus said, his voice cracking.
"My love why did he do this... why?"
The police had long since fled when Shimmer showed up, and so no-one was there to watch Confoundus weep as Artillerella's blood seeped out onto the pavement.
EDIT: I'm very glad people liked this so much, I'll begin writing the continuation immediately after I finish this edit. I'm so happy to have a post of mine get this much attention on this sub, I don't have a subreddit or anything but my comment history is a few more of my writing prompts (I made this account to post on this sub) if anyone feels like reading them.
EDIT 2: Part 2 is up, I replied to the original story with my continuation. Hope it lives up to expectations, I wrote as fast as I could while still trying to maintain quality. | I stare, pretty shocked, I must admit, as something a little too fast for normal eyes to see hits Phase in the stomach and launches him backwards, much like what happens in a car crash. He lands right in front of one of the huge trucks carrying containment cells, designed to cuff people like me. Actually, probably designed specifically to contain me. Who knows what those overpaid nerdy idiots really intend with their gadgets. That something is shining brightly, moving in insane speed even while standing in place, apparently with no effort. The figure's movements seem to slow down to normal, showing it's just a human. With a costume. I sigh. What idiot is this? Some new Hero looking for a fight?
"Hah, what an idiot, letting his guard down just because he managed to catch that stupid whore Eclipsa. Don't you know she isn't the only villain in this town, and much less the strongest one?"
"Who - cof cof - are you? I thought the only villain that hadn't already been caught was her..."
And he was supposedly right. I made it so that I stood atop all the crime in the city, and after a lot of bribing and murdering, I managed to send all the great Mafia bosses and supervillains right into Phase's palm. That guy was completely new to me.
"I'm Burst. Through small controlled explosions caused by a material discovered by me, I can disrupt the fabric of time, creating...ahem...*Bursts* of extreme time acceleration which I can manipulate, giving the impression that..."
Phase rollwd his eyes while "Burst" proceeded with his lecture, eventually interrupting him.
"Blah blah blah, science science science, I don't care! Just know that the mighty -cof cof- oh boy that punch to the stomach did a number on me. Just know that the mighty Phase will be the one to-"
Again, in a speed faster than what anyone else's eyes could catch, Burst moved and hit Phase, this time a little higher, right in the chest. He tried to phase before the hit landed, and maybe he even acomplished it, but Burst probably just waited for the small phasing window to pass and hit him. He flew some good 5 meters, and landed with a cold thud. He'll make it against this asshole, right? He didn't get up. Should I...intervene? Nah, I bet he'll make a heroic comeback. Oh, there goes that idiot again.
"Not so talkative anymore, eh? I'm being nice to you. Do you know what I'm doing? You can't even see it, but I'm not punching you, I'm gently touching you with extreme speed. Do you have any idea of what'll happen if I punch you?"
Silence. He looks up, and bravely stands, putting his weight on a trash can that was slammed out of a lamp post by his last impact. Now that I think about it, just how resilient is a regular human, again? He couldn't have broken or ruptured something important with just this, right? Right?
"I guess...-cof cof wheeze- I guess I'll have to just phase.... until help arrives..."
I'm starting to get worried. That respiration doesn't seem healthy at all. I'm seriously considering breaking out, but then what? "Eclipsa misteriously kills new villain". I don't want to see that. I love Phase, not this piece of shit city. I guess I'll just see if the stupid neopolice can take this idiot down. I'm pretty sure Phase can hold out.
"Help? A whole army could come here, I can maintain my extreme speed for days. I'd age a lot, but I'd survive unscratched. And I know you can't phase for more than 5 minutes without a pause, you'd start losing your physical form."
Oh. I completely forgot about that. I've always let him win so easily that he haven't had to phase for this long since a while ago. He begins to phase before Burst can start his extreme speed, but, just as he said, he can't keep it up. I watched his pained expression as he pushed his limit to 6 minutes, while Burst patiently took care of all the oncoming neopolice droids, playfully deflecting all projectiles with his own hands. Then he collapses. The tips of his fingers, nose and ears already lost into thin air. Burst laughs.
"Idiot. He was going to die anyways. He just prolonged his suffering. And a punch trough the head yoooou taaaa-"
This is it. As the bright bursts started, I instantly pulled the palpable darkness from inside me and broke my containment cell. Hands of darkness flailed destroying everything in a good 5m radius around me. Burst turned, startled, all the while not releasing the extreme speed around his hand.
"What? You broke free? No matter. Nothing can keep up with my extreme speed. I'll just kill this fucktard before I deal wi-"
As he turned towards Phase, the shadows caused by the skyscrapers around us stretched and lunged towards Burst, forcing him to dodge away from the unconscious body on the pavement.
"You bitch, I didn't know you could do this, I thought you just covered yourself in umbra and used it as a melee weapon. Whatever. Full body burst-"
You don't know anything about me.
"Silence, varmint. Blackout"
The huge wave of darkness that flowed from my eyes covered dozens of miles in fractions of fractions of a second. Nothing travels faster than darkness. There was no visibility. No light could banish that, no high-tech gear could see trough it. Except myself. I guess no one will know what happened, especially Burst, since they don't know I can do this. And the name of the ability? I know it is overly simplistic. But I don't care. I never did, being powerful overwrites the need to be edgy. You look towards a desperate, confused Burst.
"What the fuck is this? I've done deep research into you, there's no documentation of such a power. How and why would you hide something this big?"
I roll my eyes, despite no one being able to see them. This is nothing. I could cover the solar system in darkness, I could force the void to devour our planet. How pitiful is that, huh? The ability to destroy everything at will... it doesn't bring you anything. Power? I'd trade all of mine for half of a life where I'd lay down in a comfy bed at night and, everyday, be able to think to myself: Today was great, life is awesome.
"Big? I just covered the city in darkness. And why? The reason...the *someone* I did this for... he's just great. Always willing to risk himself, nice to all, pure, disgusted by corruption. Is he really perfect? I don't think so, and I'll probably never know. But I'll help him. He'll not even be thankful, and there's no way I'm changing that. That's the one thing about the universe I don't hate. "
"What are you on about, dramatic bitch? Screw this, I'm rushing the hell out of..."
Heh, it's not like I expected him to understand, right? And did he just call me dramatic? That's it, it's been a long time since my babies from the other side of the veil had mortal flesh to eat.
"Dark Feast."
I watched as the beings of pure darkness stretched from shadows even darker than my umbra and shredded the villain into tiny bits. Horrific screams of fear and pain came from him, mixed with the hungry growls of the fallen ones. His existence vanished. I then swallowed the darkness back into me , and while everyone was briefly stunned by the return of the brightness and the confusion, I entered another containment cell, as if I had never left.
Edit: added some stuff, some typos were removed. | 2017-10-18T18:23:28 | 2017-09-17T05:11:16 | 5,127 | 12 |
[WP] You're a villain that fell in love with a hero. Though the strongest villain on the planet, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and don't want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain, one too strong for them to beat. | "For your own safety, you seriously should've let me complete that ritual." The shackled villain protested as the hero pulls her to a carriage.
"You were gonna sacrifice 27 virgins, Theia, I'm not gonna let that slide." The hero replied as he lead her into the carriage and locked the door behind her.
Theia sighs as she quickly broke through her shackles, "I'm serious, Vall!" She yelled at the hero who's walking away, "That thing will probably kill you!"
"You severely underestimate me!" The hero replies as he heads back to the cave with 27 virgins, "You of all people should know how skilled I am."
"Yeah, skilled enough to just barely survive a minotaur attack!" Theia exclaimed but Vall was already past earshot. The villainess sighed as she makes herself comfortable in the carriage. Between the fights, banter, and sexual tension, she knew he wasn't gonna listen anyway. "Why am I even doing this?" She thought to herself; perhaps she was still grateful to him for giving her some much needed free time, perhaps she felt like assimilating his power was still too soon, and after a while, thinking about all the villains she delayed, she smiled, "Nah, it's just fun having him around."
An explosion resounded as the mountain side gave way to a giant wolf like beast with Vall tossed into the ground, his magical armor and shield cracked from what happened. The beast reared back its head and fired a blast of magic into his direction. He stared at the blast as his body refused to move and, in a heart beat, A magical force field appearead with Theia in front of him. She giggled as the field easily diverts the blast, "What? I thought 'I severely underestimated you', Vall." She said with smug look on her face.
"Don't get me wrong. He just got me off guard." Vall smileed as he forced himself back up, "Besides, you know I'm just getting started." He glowed with magic power repairing damage to his weapons, armor and body.
Theia giggled at the sight she had seen multiple times before, "You one trick pony." She dropped the force field and readied her magic, "Fine... I'll help you just this once, Vall. I'd rather not have you killed."
"Just don't get in my way, Theia." Vall replied with a smirk as the two stared down the beast in front of them.
| Ampere was strapped to the rocket with copper wiring, as the Warlord stood at a console.
"You-"
"I, what, Ampere? I won't get away with this? I'll get what's coming to me? Please. You're better than these clichés. I'm not going to reveal my plan, I'm not going to engage in some cat-and-mouse game, I'm not going to give you a fair fight or gloat. Literally the only reason I'm still talking is because *this*," the Warlord banged on the side of the console for punctuation, "*fucking! thing!* ...is taking much longer to start up than normal. Hell, I would have just blown your brains out if I had a gun on me, but you actually managed to knock away my shotgun, and made me drop my sidearm."
"Fine, if you're not going to reveal your plan," Ampere frowned at this extreme breach of professional etiquette, "Then at least explain how you beat me?"
"Oh, please. You're pretty good, but the only reason you keep beating Metal Master is because she's sweet on you."
"Yeah, I know. I mostly keep engaging her so she won't do something really dangerous to get my attention. She could easily destroy the world if she actually wanted to. Neither of us know her limits."
"Right, and I'm sure the titillating banter is entirely to keep her occupied."
"Nah, I'll fully admit that I kind of get off to it. I mean, she's a 6' 1" supermodel with a fetish for bondage and the ability to manipulate chains with her mind. That wouldn't interest you?"
The Warlord paused and frowned at our hero. "Okay, there's TMI, and then there's ***TMI***, bolded and italicized. That was the latter. You really didn-Okay! Here we go, we are go for launch! I can send you and this fusion inhibitor right into the sun, and I'll never have to think of the things you said ever again." Warlord tapped away at the console, trying to launch his rocket ASAP. Right as he was about to press the final launch button, his hand exploded in a shower of blood, bone shards and sinew.
#"Get away from my honeybee!"
Warlord grabbed his wrist stump and screamed in agony, before rapidly getting control of himself. "What the *fuck* is wrong with you!?"
"Nobody hurts my baby but me, Warlord." Metal Master gently lowered herself onto the platform, Warlord's guns hovering just over her shoulder.
"But, but you could rule the world! Why are you so obsessed with this, this stupid game?"
"What can I say, he's got a lot of charm." She winked at Ampere as the guns fired, reducing Warlord's face to paste and revealing the steel skull beneath as Warlord fell to the ground, conscious but in too much pain to move.
Metal Master destroyed the console, then levitated up to Ampere and prepared to release him.
"Hey, uh, you don't have to untie me just yet..." Ampere smiled. Warlord groaned in disgust. | 2018-01-27T16:53:11 | 2017-09-17T05:05:49 | 58 | 20 |
[WP] You're a villain that fell in love with a hero. Though the strongest villain on the planet, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and don't want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain, one too strong for them to beat. | "For your own safety, you seriously should've let me complete that ritual." The shackled villain protested as the hero pulls her to a carriage.
"You were gonna sacrifice 27 virgins, Theia, I'm not gonna let that slide." The hero replied as he lead her into the carriage and locked the door behind her.
Theia sighs as she quickly broke through her shackles, "I'm serious, Vall!" She yelled at the hero who's walking away, "That thing will probably kill you!"
"You severely underestimate me!" The hero replies as he heads back to the cave with 27 virgins, "You of all people should know how skilled I am."
"Yeah, skilled enough to just barely survive a minotaur attack!" Theia exclaimed but Vall was already past earshot. The villainess sighed as she makes herself comfortable in the carriage. Between the fights, banter, and sexual tension, she knew he wasn't gonna listen anyway. "Why am I even doing this?" She thought to herself; perhaps she was still grateful to him for giving her some much needed free time, perhaps she felt like assimilating his power was still too soon, and after a while, thinking about all the villains she delayed, she smiled, "Nah, it's just fun having him around."
An explosion resounded as the mountain side gave way to a giant wolf like beast with Vall tossed into the ground, his magical armor and shield cracked from what happened. The beast reared back its head and fired a blast of magic into his direction. He stared at the blast as his body refused to move and, in a heart beat, A magical force field appearead with Theia in front of him. She giggled as the field easily diverts the blast, "What? I thought 'I severely underestimated you', Vall." She said with smug look on her face.
"Don't get me wrong. He just got me off guard." Vall smileed as he forced himself back up, "Besides, you know I'm just getting started." He glowed with magic power repairing damage to his weapons, armor and body.
Theia giggled at the sight she had seen multiple times before, "You one trick pony." She dropped the force field and readied her magic, "Fine... I'll help you just this once, Vall. I'd rather not have you killed."
"Just don't get in my way, Theia." Vall replied with a smirk as the two stared down the beast in front of them.
| For the 313th time.
Artious lets loose another flurry of blows.
I take it the same way I took the previous 312 rounds. Another grunt. A fall to my knees. The burn of wind escaping my lungs. And, again, for the 313th time, I gasp, “Not again Artious.” I bellow menacingly,
“I have you now, Magnotros,” she exclaims confidently. “It is I who have you!”
Her siren call pierces my heart. It’s almost sweet she believes this will defeat me.
I have come to love this agonising theatre just as I have always loved her. I know the outcome. It is always the same. Soon the police will arrive. I will be put in chains… then off to the max penitentiary… then escape… only to repeat this torture of undeclared love… I mean how could I tell her? How could I declare my love for this vision of beauty, this being of light, this woman who dominates my universe and who captured my heart. A superheroine.
Who would imagine that I, the most feared supervillain on the planet, would fall for a hero such as her. She wears no mask. Her confidence overwhelms. She has no secret identity. No pretence or falsehood. She hides behind neither mask nor hypocrisy.
What would the Villain League think of me? Better they think I’m old and weak than lost to her.
The police arrive with the customary wail of sirens. Artious pins me. “Okay, okay,” I yield. I gasp, smiling to myself my face pressed into the bitumen. As always the police throw their preprepared titanium chains across my prostrate body, rendering useless my supernatural shock wave ability. (Not that I have ever used that against her.)
“Artious,” a cop says, “Once again we are in your debt.” And just the sound of her name makes my heart skip.
But something is different this time.
The gravel my face is pressed into begins to vibrate. I smell something I cant quite distinguish. Then it hits me! Raulit hovers above me. “Need a hand, old man?” he scoffs and snaps his fingers. The recently arrived police incinerate. Their ash snows down upon me.
I’m still pinned beneath their chains.
Panic ensues. I feel Raulit move to face Artious. “Enough of these games! Time to deal with the new blood in town! Time to end this once and for all!“
I struggle to free myself shouting and screaming the fear ripping at my heart. “Don’t hurt her!“
I hear Artious scream. Her voice, I’ve never heard the sound. My blood runs cold.
Then silence. A dead silence. My heart breaks. This pain. This wretched soul-destroying pain. I scream her name, “Artious, my love, my life, my world…
A hand touches the chain. Fingers caress my cheek. I hear her voice, “Magnotros my love, my life, my world…“ | 2018-01-27T16:53:11 | 2017-09-17T05:11:40 | 58 | 12 |
[WP] You're a villain that fell in love with a hero. Though the strongest villain on the planet, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and don't want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain, one too strong for them to beat. | Kenn wasn't adverse to killing people. That came with the job. Sometimes, you just had to do what was necessary to survive. That's what human nature was right? People have been killing each other for centuries. Who can honestly say they're surprised when the first thing superhumans do is start killing each other? That's what they were made to do. Heroes must kill villains, villains must kill heroes. Sure; every now and then a hero leaves a villain alive. Sure; they might even swear off killing altogether. When you get to the bottom of the morally murky swamp however you realize that one way or another either the villain or the hero has to die. That's how wars are fought and this is nothing if not a war.
Kenn sat there looking at her, holding the bag of cash from the bank he had very illicitly withdrawn from the people's savings account. She was brave for her skill. All heroes kind of were. Villains took money and power, heroes took morale superiority and the greater good of society. Heroes went home to an applause every day so it's only natural eventually they got a little too brave for their britches. Kenn didn't mind though. He could tolerate a little bravery here and there. He could tolerate anything from her at this point.
He'd be lying to himself if he said he wanted the money for money's sake. No, he wanted to see her again. He'd be mocked if any of the villains were to know that. Villains weren't allowed to have sweet-hearts. Especially rather heroic ones. This was a war and they were the enemy. This was the closest thing to a date Kenn was every going to get. "Drop the dough" she demanded and Kenn was all to eager to follow. Millions of dollars in bills were heavier than you'd expect. Especially when they come with the heavy knowledge that it was the only way to see her again.
Kenn cracked his knuckles gearing up for a fight he'd know he would lose. He told himself every day that maybe he'd win this time, that maybe this time he'd summon up enough emotional courage to go with his physical abilities but he never could. She sucked it out of him like a second power even she didn't know she had. "Come and get me, Electora" He said tauntingly, using her superhero name. He didn't know her real name.
She didn't smile this time though. She did usually, on any other day. Why wasn't she smiling?
Before Kenn could ask where her grin of bravery had hidden off to, there was the boom of thunder followed by the crack of lightning. Kenn flew back several dozen feet down the street. That was her power, bolts of electric shock. Of course Kenn was a copy-cat villain. He could just shoot one right back, but he wasn't going to. He wasn't going to match fire with fire this time around.
Something was wrong, she didn't seem very... Happy about this. That didn't make any sense. Here he was, spitting out chunks of asphalt as she approached, just as she would have it. How could she be so glum like him? Where was that smiling row of teeth Kenn had gone so far to witness? He stood up just to catch her throw a punch. He made like he was going to block it. He didn't of course. The fist blasted into his cheek; the closest thing Kenn would ever get to a kiss, and he relished it for the few seconds he could as he stumbled back again.
She threw another punch, but something peculiar happened. Kenn saw it come in and once again made the purposefully half-assed attempt to catch it. Kenn flinched just as the fist was about to connect with his upper eye and then... Nothing. Even with his eyes closed he could feel the block of her fist stop just short. It was only a moment, only a few microseconds before Kenn launched himself back again as if he was hit.
Kenn was starting to understand now as he stood there, looking at her. She gritted her teeth and Kenn could feel his heart sink: She knew now, she was starting to understand. Maybe she didn't understand why but she was smart enough to know what was happening. "I knew it" She breathed, sending a kick his way only to stop just short of his windpipe. Kenn pretended to gag, falling on his ass.
"Stop it!" She shouted, standing over him. Kenn had never seen her this angry before. He sat there looking at her as she made to stomp directly onto his face but, once again, didn't. This time Kenn didn't do anything. He just sat there, blinking as he looked at the underside of her boot. Her eyes were watering now as she stepped back, putting her arms down. "For the love of god..." She began, raising her hands again now not in fists but in open curled hands as if she was trying to summon something out of Kenn. "Fight back!"
Ken got up, rubbing the spot on his cheek were a bruise was forming. "I-... Can't." He said, trying to follow that up with some viable excuse. Grasping and reaching out for something he could say that would keep her in the dark, in that comfortable lie he had managed to keep her in for so long. There wasn't anything Kenn could do now. All he could do was pretend.
He imagined this was quite a scene to the police and reporters nearby, who watched with anticipation at what was happening. Kenn snarled at them, hating their every being for this. For making what was supposed to be a private moment public. She stood there a moment waiting for Kenn to say something else. When he didn't she sighed, her anger giving way to a sadness Kenn couldn't quantify. Her blue eyes just scorched into Kenn. Hurting him more than any punch could. "I can't do this anymore." She croaked, her voice breaking.
"Do you think this is so easy for me?" She said, turning away and wiping her face with her hands. "Every time I throw a punch, every time I hurt you I just get this terrible feeling that I'm feeding something I don't want to. I feel sick every time I break your bone or shock you."
She shook her head: "And every time you come around, they send me... They always send me because they know I'm the only one that can beat you. So every time I have to force myself here, to force myself to throw punches and hurt you in ways I didn't want to. I can't, I just can't do this anymore."
She turned back to him, clasping her hands together with tears streaming down her cheeks: "Please... Just this once, don't make me hurt you again. It's killing me. For just once can you please win?"
Kenn didn't know what to say. This whole time Kenn thought he was helping her when all he was doing was hurting her. This was what it meant to be an arch nemesis. To try and help someone only to realize you're the one hurting them the most. He didn't know what to do. They were stuck now, neither having the selfishness to hurt each other, neither having the selflessness to fake it. This was a war in which there was no victor. It was a war where people just got hurt and no one was the hero and no one was the villain. Both of them had at this point long forgotten the bag of money now laying in the street, dollar bills rolling through the wind. | I stare, pretty shocked, I must admit, as something a little too fast for normal eyes to see hits Phase in the stomach and launches him backwards, much like what happens in a car crash. He lands right in front of one of the huge trucks carrying containment cells, designed to cuff people like me. Actually, probably designed specifically to contain me. Who knows what those overpaid nerdy idiots really intend with their gadgets. That something is shining brightly, moving in insane speed even while standing in place, apparently with no effort. The figure's movements seem to slow down to normal, showing it's just a human. With a costume. I sigh. What idiot is this? Some new Hero looking for a fight?
"Hah, what an idiot, letting his guard down just because he managed to catch that stupid whore Eclipsa. Don't you know she isn't the only villain in this town, and much less the strongest one?"
"Who - cof cof - are you? I thought the only villain that hadn't already been caught was her..."
And he was supposedly right. I made it so that I stood atop all the crime in the city, and after a lot of bribing and murdering, I managed to send all the great Mafia bosses and supervillains right into Phase's palm. That guy was completely new to me.
"I'm Burst. Through small controlled explosions caused by a material discovered by me, I can disrupt the fabric of time, creating...ahem...*Bursts* of extreme time acceleration which I can manipulate, giving the impression that..."
Phase rollwd his eyes while "Burst" proceeded with his lecture, eventually interrupting him.
"Blah blah blah, science science science, I don't care! Just know that the mighty -cof cof- oh boy that punch to the stomach did a number on me. Just know that the mighty Phase will be the one to-"
Again, in a speed faster than what anyone else's eyes could catch, Burst moved and hit Phase, this time a little higher, right in the chest. He tried to phase before the hit landed, and maybe he even acomplished it, but Burst probably just waited for the small phasing window to pass and hit him. He flew some good 5 meters, and landed with a cold thud. He'll make it against this asshole, right? He didn't get up. Should I...intervene? Nah, I bet he'll make a heroic comeback. Oh, there goes that idiot again.
"Not so talkative anymore, eh? I'm being nice to you. Do you know what I'm doing? You can't even see it, but I'm not punching you, I'm gently touching you with extreme speed. Do you have any idea of what'll happen if I punch you?"
Silence. He looks up, and bravely stands, putting his weight on a trash can that was slammed out of a lamp post by his last impact. Now that I think about it, just how resilient is a regular human, again? He couldn't have broken or ruptured something important with just this, right? Right?
"I guess...-cof cof wheeze- I guess I'll have to just phase.... until help arrives..."
I'm starting to get worried. That respiration doesn't seem healthy at all. I'm seriously considering breaking out, but then what? "Eclipsa misteriously kills new villain". I don't want to see that. I love Phase, not this piece of shit city. I guess I'll just see if the stupid neopolice can take this idiot down. I'm pretty sure Phase can hold out.
"Help? A whole army could come here, I can maintain my extreme speed for days. I'd age a lot, but I'd survive unscratched. And I know you can't phase for more than 5 minutes without a pause, you'd start losing your physical form."
Oh. I completely forgot about that. I've always let him win so easily that he haven't had to phase for this long since a while ago. He begins to phase before Burst can start his extreme speed, but, just as he said, he can't keep it up. I watched his pained expression as he pushed his limit to 6 minutes, while Burst patiently took care of all the oncoming neopolice droids, playfully deflecting all projectiles with his own hands. Then he collapses. The tips of his fingers, nose and ears already lost into thin air. Burst laughs.
"Idiot. He was going to die anyways. He just prolonged his suffering. And a punch trough the head yoooou taaaa-"
This is it. As the bright bursts started, I instantly pulled the palpable darkness from inside me and broke my containment cell. Hands of darkness flailed destroying everything in a good 5m radius around me. Burst turned, startled, all the while not releasing the extreme speed around his hand.
"What? You broke free? No matter. Nothing can keep up with my extreme speed. I'll just kill this fucktard before I deal wi-"
As he turned towards Phase, the shadows caused by the skyscrapers around us stretched and lunged towards Burst, forcing him to dodge away from the unconscious body on the pavement.
"You bitch, I didn't know you could do this, I thought you just covered yourself in umbra and used it as a melee weapon. Whatever. Full body burst-"
You don't know anything about me.
"Silence, varmint. Blackout"
The huge wave of darkness that flowed from my eyes covered dozens of miles in fractions of fractions of a second. Nothing travels faster than darkness. There was no visibility. No light could banish that, no high-tech gear could see trough it. Except myself. I guess no one will know what happened, especially Burst, since they don't know I can do this. And the name of the ability? I know it is overly simplistic. But I don't care. I never did, being powerful overwrites the need to be edgy. You look towards a desperate, confused Burst.
"What the fuck is this? I've done deep research into you, there's no documentation of such a power. How and why would you hide something this big?"
I roll my eyes, despite no one being able to see them. This is nothing. I could cover the solar system in darkness, I could force the void to devour our planet. How pitiful is that, huh? The ability to destroy everything at will... it doesn't bring you anything. Power? I'd trade all of mine for half of a life where I'd lay down in a comfy bed at night and, everyday, be able to think to myself: Today was great, life is awesome.
"Big? I just covered the city in darkness. And why? The reason...the *someone* I did this for... he's just great. Always willing to risk himself, nice to all, pure, disgusted by corruption. Is he really perfect? I don't think so, and I'll probably never know. But I'll help him. He'll not even be thankful, and there's no way I'm changing that. That's the one thing about the universe I don't hate. "
"What are you on about, dramatic bitch? Screw this, I'm rushing the hell out of..."
Heh, it's not like I expected him to understand, right? And did he just call me dramatic? That's it, it's been a long time since my babies from the other side of the veil had mortal flesh to eat.
"Dark Feast."
I watched as the beings of pure darkness stretched from shadows even darker than my umbra and shredded the villain into tiny bits. Horrific screams of fear and pain came from him, mixed with the hungry growls of the fallen ones. His existence vanished. I then swallowed the darkness back into me , and while everyone was briefly stunned by the return of the brightness and the confusion, I entered another containment cell, as if I had never left.
Edit: added some stuff, some typos were removed. | 2017-09-17T05:11:57 | 2017-09-17T05:11:16 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] You die, become a ghost, decided to explore space, and then you met a ghost of an alien. | We had a hard time communicating at first.
That's why so much was left untold. Or lost in traslation.
But we quickly became friends, out there, near one of the moons of saturn, the closest one to the planet, Pan.
When I was alive, my name was Mark, now that I wasn't anymore, i liked to think that i didn't need a name.
One might think that, after i met my friend, a name was back in the "things i needed" list. Au contrair, my dear reader, a name is needed when there is a multitude of beings, when there's two, it's just "you" and "me". Sometimes "us". And very often "them". "Them" who, you might ask?
The rest of the people, humans and not humans, that made our lives so pitiful.
After the dances, the heavy gesturing, the laugh that came from learning to communicate with each other, we came up with a language that existed just for us, a beautiful language where a comma* was a little flip in the air, and a full stop was dropping dead to the ground (when there was actually a ground, in space we just pretended to lie there in the spot)
That creature, my friend, his smile was the best. It kinda took me a long time to recognize it was a smile, all his eyes opened at the same time and his little green head started to bounce all around, like a ball tied to a rope, and the rope being his neck.
Sometimes he even similed while talking about all the things that went wrong in its life, and I was happy for it; whenever I talked about my bad times, my face was covered in pain and regret only.
But when it was its turn, my friend always seemed to still carry a little bit of hope that someday, its past life would become a good and happy life.
One day he told me about that time an alien it loved broke his heart. There was no* such thing as sex in his planet, and a loved one was just someone you wanted to spend all eternity with and bounce your heads around together all the time.
Then it watched me, with just eight of his eyes, and told me it wished I was like him, and we could spend all our eternities together.
Seeing that just eight of its eyes were open, I understood it was very embarassed,.
From early in our friends was clear to me that the more eyes very open, the more confident the alien was. And, just like humans, aliens let themself go fully just when they are laughing and having fun, opening all their colourful and crazy eyes for the universe to see they're having fun.
So I told him we could spend all our afterlife together.
My friend didn't seem satisfied with that answer, and I was a little hurt by that reaction.
But I didn't ask why, a mistake lovers too often do, and we went on with our joking and dancing.
We kept on going until we couldn't anymore.
One day, my little green, quite literally, soulmate, literally, disappeared.
I didn't understand at first. I understand now, after all these years of traveling and searching.
I found the planet where my soulmate had a name again. The planet in which death was temporary, and life was eternal. Just like we sleep, they die.
And they die once every 2000 years.
So now I'm here waiting, hoping it doesn't find someone else to die with, hoping it will be always my soulmate.
----
*edit
**edit | An Afterlife Amongst the Stars
--
It's a strange sensation dying. I thought it would hurt, or would at least feel like something, perhaps just like falling asleep, but no, it just happened.
I was alive. I died. And then, I was dead.
That was it, just a very strange sensation and I was dead, but then somehow it all just got stranger.
...
I was never very religious, never thought much about an afterlife, or heaven, or hell, and never believed, in even my most spiritual moments, in ghosts and as such was just expecting a blackness, a numb and empty expanse. To be honest, I was actually expecting nothing, just a pure, unending nothing.
But then I woke up.
I was floating, looking down on myself as I lay there in bed, looking somewhat peaceful now, looking almost like I was asleep, eyes shut and a smile on my lips. It took a moment to understand that, but as the truth hit me and I realised I was dead, it was somehow a lot calmer than I thought it would be, and acceptance came quite easily.
I drifted then, up from my body, and my life, as I left it all behind and up further through the skies and through the clouds, my house becoming just a square in the mass of my town, my town becoming just another speck overwhelmed by the rest of my country, my country just a small bit more of green on a great blue ball.
I stopped for a moment, then, floating in a great expanse of blackness, looking down on all I had ever known, on a planet called Earth, that, for once, seemed peaceful, calm and still.
And I turned away, there was nothing left for me there, in that place I once called home.
…
I don’t know how long I drifted for, as I danced among the cosmos, wandering through great clouds of iridescent dust, drifting past supernovas, watching as stars were born, lived and died. I watched as life grew, blossoming from a small little planet I recognised from a memory I could barely remember, to spread its own way across the great expanse before it. And I watched as life fell, as the lights they built slowly went out, as the stars surrounding them burnt out into great dark holes and swallowed all they could take hold of.
And I watched as a new life formed, so different from those that had fallen, so different from what I had forgotten being.
I watched, and I watched, for what could have been an eternity, until *She* came and distracted me from my endless entertainment.
It could well have been eons, but for me it had passed by in only a moment, and I could only long for more.
…
But *She* had come, and now she stood before me, floating amongst the stars the same as me.
"Who are you?" Her voice echoed across the empty celestial void, but she had not spoken, not in any way I understood.
But when I answered, I realised neither did I. "I am-"
I did not know, I realised as I attempted to remember.
Once I had been a Man, at least I thought I had been. Once I had lived a life, I had loved and I had laughed, and I had hated and I had cried. I had lived, and I had died. But that all seemed so far away now, and I was no longer whatever I had been then.
For a moment that may have been a lifetime I was afraid. What was I now?
"The same as me." Her voice sounded beautiful, and she sang out across eternity.
I looked at her, and saw past her form, so different to anything I had ever known, so strange and so alien, to see an echo of who I was behind her eyes.
"Yes," I said without speaking, unsure of what else to say.
But she didn't seem to notice, or if she had, she didn’t care, for she took my hand in her own, and embraced for eternity.
…
And so, we moved on, drifting further and further through the infinity of an endless sea of stars.
---
Thanks for reading, and if you have any feedback, advice, thoughts, or anything else (the good and the bad), please let me know.
Cheers, Dylan | 2018-03-27T07:23:50 | 2018-03-27T04:57:14 | 64 | 12 |
[WP] As a Grim Reaper, you have the ability to see numbers floating above every individual's head, counting down the days they have left to live. However, you one day come across a young girl whose number is actually in the negative. | Leslie Tanner, 21
Cause of death: Accident
The name appears on the leather-bound notebook I am carrying, and like any other day it was time to commence my duty.
In case you are wondering, that’s vague! What kind of accident? We haven’t got a clue and thats why we are there to shadow them, guide them forward in death and update the records in Hell.
Just like in the human world, grim reaper is a job, and many of us here would take on any jobs. The problem comes when someone decides to not turn up for work.
Thats when the natural order get messed up, people don’t die on the day they are supposed to. I mean, not in the scenario of nothing bad happens to them.
They might literally be in pain and agony without the relief of death. As one would expect, hospitals are kinda like going to the shopping mall nearby your house. You’d frequent it almost daily, or at least stroll pass it.
I was on an order..
Leslie Tanner, 21.
An accident, a human error. I stood by and watched as the Nurses fed her an extra dose of medicine than she was supposed to take. I watched her foam, and led her over the the other side.
Sometimes they are not willing to leave quietly, but thats why we wear this outfit to make them afraid.
I passed by the ward of a young girl, probably around 7 years old，and noticed the dazzling, glitchy and blurry number on her head.
-217
Thats 217 days more than she should have been alive. Tubes were poking into and out of her body, every breath she took looked excruciating and no one was there for her.
Thats 217 days of pain that could have been ended if someone was doing their job.
It was against the rules to steal someone’s soul or deliver it for them. But her guardian is long gone, a fugitive of Hell gone hiding.
I wish so much to be able to help, yet if I do... I may never be able to redeem myself and reincarnate. It is against the rules... i might simple cease to exist
Looking at her reminded me of myself, grim reapers are a product of one taking their own life. When I did take mine, my guardian did not come. He was not allowed to for 100 days as part of the punishment.
Looking at her made me remember that 100 days.
Maybe.. for her.. I will do it
—-
[Edited] | The opposite sidewalk of where I walked was bathed in the heating rays of the mid-day sun and with no wind to keep cool, I walked in the shadows the building opposite. My dark cloak stuck across my back and I used the hood to wipe away the sweat of my brow. The cloth near my feet stuck to my calves and I held a bunch of the black fabric rolled between my hands and around my cane. Wolf-gray clouds were rolling in over the sun and the shade crept over slowly to the other side.
I came to a bench by a bus station on the corner of 2nd avenue, on the north side of town, where the buildings shortened down to houses. A wind swelled through the corner and the an engine of the number two bus winded down to a lull and hissed as it dropped down. An elderly gentleman in a brown patched corduroy jacket and brown tweed pants gently laid his cane against the sidewalk and shuffled down the street.
"Little hot out for a jacket today. Beautiful day though." I walked alongside him, holding him by the elbow and gracefully removed his cane. He smiled as his legs grew flexible and strong again and moved out with longer strides. His back straightened and he smiled as though he was able to return back to his youth to when he smelled the grass of turf, the sweat of his jersey and the yellow goal post at the end of the field. "You clock turned zero just now. Take care." The old man walked with a gaiety that returned his youth to him. His chiseled jaw returned with taught skin, and his ash colored hair grew orange. "Thank you!" he yelled and when he took a step he drifted upwards. A crowd gathered on the street behind me.
I didn't often look at people at people in crowds. Individually there is a certain intrigue and a certain specialness about their life that gets lost and overshadowed in a group. People's lives are often not their own, not as people really believe them to be. They take their thoughts from others, their thoughts and beliefs stolen because of their own insecurities. They become something like a clogged drain. All the originality passes through but at some point the rotting food gums it up and spews itself back up and they choke on it.
Sometimes curiosity gets the better of me, or rather because I dislike walking very much, I walked back to the bus stop, making my way through the crowd where I saw a young girl with an odd number above her auburn her. The sun shimmered on her dangling gold earrings and her cream skin flushed with a rosy red. I’ve seen people like her before. The ones that push away the rot and clear the drains. I don’t often look at them, it makes no sense to. They aren’t the ones I come for. But her numbers ran backward. I do smile when I see them because they always seem to escape me. They don’t die. They don’t linger. Their names are forever mentioned on people’s lips as examples of hope and of action. Rosa Parks, Alexander the Great, Socrates, George Washington, Achilles. They all had the same type of number.
| 2018-05-23T09:26:18 | 2018-05-23T09:20:05 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] Hell has been breached using the world’s most advanced drill. The demons prepare to swarm the earth, but as the first human military descended, Hell was not ready for tanks and machine guns. | “Tanks?”
“Yes.”
“...The Here is a *tank?*”
“It’s like a... you know the bronze bull torture method?”
“Yes, one of my favorites.”
“It like that. But not made of any metal we know of. It rolls, we think? And it shoots explosions.”
“It... shoots explosions?”
“That’s the only way to describe it. It points, there’s an explosion, and whatever it was pointing at disintegrates. Then their footsoldiers have metal tubes that shoot tiny explosions.”
“What?”
“They point, there’s a pop, sometimes a lot of them, and for every pop holes explode in our forces’ bodies.”
“Unholy here...”
The door was kicked down.
“WHO’S READY TO EAT LEAD YOU FIREY CUCKLORDS”
The explosions shortly wiped the There out of the demon overlords. | We were not ready. Not by a long shot. My name is Ezikiel I am a "Spawn of Satan" as we are known, although that's just like a surface dweller, give a group of lifeforms you don't like a bad name and watch as they move in on you like a swarm of locusts. That's what happened to us, that's what happened to my home, my people, my children!
To this day we do not know why they breached the underworld, we have nothing of value to them, no food, no natural resources, If anything it would be more beneficial for us to invade them! (Not that we would stand a chance). But still to this day Satan has done nothing to protect us.
Our lord and protector who was supposed to guide us through a new life in the underworld cowers in fear of the man made beasts, furious demons which billow smoke and shoot fire and mental, if I hadn't seen them with my own eyes i wouldn't have believed it. I was lucky it make it out alive. But as the hail of metal and explosions lay waste to our homes and our family's our "Protector" ran and hid.
I've have managed to make it as far as Devils Fall bridge but my injures are too severe to carry on, with my last bit of life in my i write this note in hopes that people will know what happened here today, our lands have fallen the men from above have won Satan....Satan, why have you forsaken us. | 2018-06-19T15:17:51 | 2018-06-19T15:04:19 | 174 | 56 |
[WP] Whenever you speak, people hear you speaking in their native language. Most people are surprised and delighted. The cashier at McDonalds you've just talked to is horrified. "Nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years." | “Nobody’s spoken that language in thousands of years.” Whispered the cashier, dropping my McNuggets. “I thought I was the last one! I can’t believe there’s more survivors! I mean, you skin is a little more pale than I would expect but who cares? Follow me, we need to talk!”
“But my McNuggets” I said
“Don’t worry, I’ll make you however many nuggets you want if you come sit and talk with me.”
I shrugged and decided I would entertain this guy. I wasn’t really listening to what he was saying but I wanted to entertain this little crazy man. We sat down in a small booth far away from anymore McDonalds connoisseurs and he started to talk.
“So, how did you escape? What do you remember? Are there more like you and me out there?”
“Look buddy I have no idea what you’re talking about, escape from what?”
“From the earthquake of course! What else would I be talking about?”
“There was an earthquake? What language are you hearing right now exactly?”
“ATLANTEAN OF COURSE!”
Now this threw me back.
“What? Atlantis is fake my guy.”
“Well then why are you speaking fucking Atlantean?”
“I’m not, I’m just talking! What happened in ‘Atlantis’ that I should be worried about, hmmm?”
A look of sadness and remembrance came over his face.
“Well I’m from there. Over 1000 years ago my island was swallowed by the ocean. Earthquakes, fires, tsunamis... they plowed over my island and I was lucky to have been on a traders ship outside of Atlantis’ main port.”
“What makes you think I’m going to believe you?” I said, actually quite curious now. Either he was a good actor or telling the truth.
“Well, Atlanteans live forever unless killed, and since I’ve been around for that long I have some pretty neat stuff back home that might convince you.”
“As long as you get me my fucking McNuggets.”
________________________
________________________
Hey r/WritingPrompts , long time lurker first time poster here. I left a lot of plot holes, I know. But the first thing I thought of was Atlantis and I wanted to do something with it. I have an idea for more of this story but my formatting and the gaps between my dialogue made me cringe too much to keep going.
Don’t tear me apart pls | I blinked. *What?*
The cashier had tears in his eyes and was staring right into mine with such intensity I had to keep blinking.
"L.M.A.O. my dude," I offered nervously, not knowing what he had just heard me say. "Are you feeling alright?"
He didn't answer. In the moments that followed, silence took over the room as neither of us said or did anything. I had counted to 69 Mississippi's in my head when Jefe - that was his name, according to the name tag I noticed and read after Mississippi 42 - suddenly jumped over the register onto the customer side. Before I could react, he started running for the door.
"Hey, wait!" I yelled after him, but he did not listen. Jefe burst through the glass door and out into the street, seemingly unaffected by the flurry of broken glass and metal that his body had encountered.
I turned back to the register and an older, Hispanic man in McDonald's kitchenware emerged from the kitchen. "Hey," I started nervously, checking his apron for a name tag. It was on his lower left abdomen area, and it read Jeff. "Jeff, I ordered two large fries and a fountain drink."
"*Eey*! You speak fantastic Portuguese, my friend!" Jeff whispered, smiling. "Your order is ready, I was just about to bring it out when I heard some noise." He turned and walked back towards the kitchen, but stopped abruptly in front of the doorway. "Wait a second, how did you know I come from Portugal?" he said, his upbeat tone quickly fading. "And where is the boy, Jefe?"
"Oh yeah, Jefe said something really weird and -" A loud screech and thud interrupted my sentence. I turned and dashed over to a window beside the destroyed entrance to see what caused the noise. An old, beat up looking Jeep was stopped haphazardly across the middle of road. Its windshield was covered in blood and shattered through the upper right corner. My eyes scanned the parking lot and I gasped, quite audibly, when I saw what the Jeep had hit.
Jefe's body lay a few yards in front of the Jeep, crumpled up like a bloody pretzel. I stood by the window dazed as Jeff ran out of the store screaming. *What the flippity fuck?* My mind was blank and seemed to be preparing to produce its first thoughts to react when a bright light made me blink and squint. The light was followed by a deafening bang and a shock wave that made me back up a few steps. Just like that, the Jeep had exploded.
Bits of metal and rubber flew into the store through the shattered windows as what was just a few seconds ago a Jeep became a smoldering pile of metal. *What did Jefe mean by thousands of years? Why did this Jeep explode? Where did Jeff go?* These questions raced through my mind. I carefully climbed over the rubble surrounding the entrance and looked around. Suddenly, another blinding light made me look away. *Another explosion?!* I thought incredulously. I was right.
Jefe had exploded. | 2022-06-29T16:29:01 | 2018-06-24T20:16:31 | 647 | 56 |
[WP] Whenever you speak, people hear you speaking in their native language. Most people are surprised and delighted. The cashier at McDonalds you've just talked to is horrified. "Nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years." | Oh, here we go again. The pale, skinny, tattooed, creep behind the counter was freaking out, whispering, shaking, stammering, "nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years." So, of course I had to screw with him a little. "Well, obviously you don't get out much." "Now, how about my Big Mac, or do I talk louder?"
I had no idea what the sewage spewing out of my mouth sounded like to him. Nor did I care. When I wished for this, I didn't think of the consequences. But nobody ever does, do they my *little* *Jin*? It was all so clever at first, math to mathematicians, Hindi to Lyft drivers, a little Telugu, Yue, and Hiligaynon here and there. Happy times for the attractive, magical hyperpolyglot. But not for long.
Who knew there were so many weirdos in San Francisco? Not foreigners, they're not weird. I mean the real freaks: aliens, time travelers, walking dead, the "ancient ones," demons, angels, Jin, and of course, the endless vampires. And that's exactly what I had on the other side of the counter. Working the night shift at a McDonalds. Don't they all? And that skinny little psychopath was getting ready to jump the counter and rip my face off.
Maybe screwing with this one was not exactly the right idea. I lowered my voice. "Listen dear, I just want a Big Mac, fries, and a chocolate milk, and I'll be on my way. Nobody will know, nobody will ever care." "Oh, and could I have some *extra* c*atchup*?"
That didn't seem to work. His eyes were changing colors faster than last week's gay pride parade, and he was developing a serious overbite. I was getting further away from my Big Mac, and closer to a stainless steel bed at the morgue. So, I did it. I didn't want to do it, but time was of the essence.
He didn't make it over the counter. My vampire, the assistant manager, the old woman running the takeout window, and the pimply fry boy, exploded like boxes of rusty detonators stuck inside pigs.
"Go to Hell" in English is rude, bitchy, and ineffective. But when shouted using the filth those freaks speak, it was a curse that was *extremely* *imperative*.
Maybe I'd have better luck getting some Chinese, after I went home and cleaned up.
^(--- Edit --- Thanks to) [^(t)](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/132536.Robert_G_Barrett)^(he late Robert G. Barrett for the bit about detonators. -- More edits -- because that's what we do around here.)
Continued at: [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8tqase/wp\_you\_are\_walking\_down\_the\_street\_and\_realise/e1av1qo](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8tqase/wp_you_are_walking_down_the_street_and_realise/e1av1qo) | The man behind the counter froze in the middle of typing out my order. They looked up at me wide eyed and said,"Nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years." Sounding somewhat surprised.
That night, standing in the empty 24/7 McDonald's of our small desert town, it finally happened. The thing that I had been waiting for for my entire life, and had a feeling would happen eventually.
"Shit. You're an alien?" I said more worried about making a good impression than running away.
They responded with a look of 'are you kidding me' before dryly stating "what else would I be?" and they quickly regained their compsure.
I was struggling to hold back my enthusiasm.
They did not seem as amused by the encounter and they were actually starting to get concerned. "Uh... Is everything alright there? You look like you are about to piss yourself." They went back to typing.
My mind ran at a thousand miles an hour, as the cashiers words flew over my head.
"Oh my God! Is the name on your tag your real name? How'd you get here? Wait how long have you lived here? I mean in this town not just, you know, on the planet. " This went on for about half an hour. It stopped when the cashier stuffed a burger in my mouth while I was lost in the nervice tidal wave.
They said a single word " Eat." and that was that.
I sat down at a table and began to nibble away at my fries. The cashier disappeared around a corner for a minute or so before returning to sit across from me. The taste of food suddenly reminded me that I had forgotten to have lunch and dinner that day, due to getting cought up in fixing my car's engine.
He sat down with the chair facing backwards to so he could lean forward with out touching the sticky table. He said "I don't know what the deal is with you, but I am going to have to ask where you learned to speak like that. Because you are obviously just one very confusing human being."
While going to town on the burger I said "don't know. I was sort of born with this weird super power to communicate really fucking well. Almost like mind reading but without the mind reading. I honestly don't know what language I am speaking in most of the time unless somebody either tells me or they say something very specific to that tounge." I stop to drink a sip of soda. The cashier, whom I just then noticed had 'Stanly' on his name tag, showed a visable confusion drawn on to his face like a sudden migraine. He muttered something. He muttered 'God damn it, Jax I told you not to go sleeping around.' I think. Muttering isn't an exact language. Stanly sighed and asked "would there by any chance be a rumour in your family that somebody anybody met an alien?"
I finnished off my burger not fully grasping the situation, "Not that I know of. Why?"
Stanly mumbled to himself again and said " I don't have any easier way to break the news to you, kid. Someone in your family line has... engaged in some cross breeding."
I choked on my drink, "what?!"
Stanly continued "Your powers are a knockoff version of my races abilities to process information."
"I just thought I had autism."
I guess this was not Stanly's best night. He paused to figure out what to say next.
He then hesitantly said " I wouldn't... rule that out entirely. The weight of this really doesn't seem to be, um... Regestaring correctly."
I gave an understanding nod an said "Ya, that tends to happen a lot. I'm getting better though." (I only realised two days later that I had been drinking my soda very obnoxiously. )
I drank some more of my sprite.
Stanly tried to get back on track. He said "Right... How would you like to meet your something far back grandfather?"
| 2018-06-24T21:27:25 | 2018-06-24T20:39:44 | 165 | 41 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse is much different than you had imagined. Instead of moaning "braaaaaiiinnnss" and clumsily shambling along, your infected daughter is crying on the other side of your locked door, begging to be let in. | Why did have to be like this?
Why couldnt I make it in time?
Why did they HAVE to get her?
I asked myself over and over why, but the answers eluded me. It's been 3 days since the world went to shit, with those THINGS everywhere. It started somewhere rural, some secret agency, people say. But that doesn't matter.
I had to block the windows and doors. It was fine if I never made any loud noises. They like the noise that regular people make, but not the sounds THEY make. It's so hard to tell the difference, but THEY know. All I had to do was be quiet.
I'm the only one alive here. Just me. My wife was going shopping when it happened. She never made it back. Whatever happened to her, it's better than here.
Just because I said I'm the only one alive here, doesn't mean I'm alone. I haven't slept since it happened. She was outside, playing. Chasing bubbles. Before I could act, who I thought was an elderly woman picked her up and bit her shoulder.
I can barely remember what exactly happened after. I'm so tired. All I remember is the eyes. Those milky white eyes. I still see them. They look at me every day from behind the toddler gate.
She begs and cries, but I can't answer. It's worse when she asks for mommy. It sounds just like her, but her eyes say otherwise. I miss my little girl. I'm not sure how long I can endure this. To hear your child begging, but knowing you cant do anything.
If this is anything, its hell. | She was only 15.
The knob rattles as the door wrenches from its frame, barely able to stand tall with the onslaught of her nimble frame ramming into the door.
“Daddy, please! Why won’t you let me in! I just want to be with you!”
Don’t listen to her. Don’t listen to her, she can’t be trusted. You saw the mark on her arm. They got to her, they had to have. That scar couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.
“Dad, I’m scared, you’re never like this! Please just unlock the door!”
Her mother went the same way, you can’t get the sight of her head being ripped open from the force of the slug that came from the barrel of *your* gun. For Christ’s sake, she was your *wife*, the woman you told everything to, you held dear for so long, just torn from your life by a single mistake.
She turned so quickly. She saw you, feverishly shaking, the gun barely aimed, and she screamed and *ran* at you.
...What’s done is done.
“Why won’t you answer me! I know you’re in there, open the fucking door, PLEASE!”
They’realldeadthey’realldeadthey’realldead you tell yourself, because if you didn’t constantly ram the thought through your thick skull you’d open the door and join them.
It’s too much, why did this have to happen, why did this have TO **FUCKING** HAPPEN.
You launch the table next to you across the room. It breaks into a million pieces. You’ll clean it up later, you just want her to stop and leave before she brings more of them here.
The door won’t be able to handle much more.
“Daddy, we’re all here for you! We’re just scared, please come out and talk to me! They said you missed your dose, I just want to make sure you’re okay!”
You hear a wailing in the distance. The rest are coming. Your time is up.
You know it has to end, but, you want to go out in your control.
If they can take your family from you, you can take them back with you.
“Okay...I’m coming out.”
You quietly pull the slide on your pistol.
| 2018-09-06T19:24:58 | 2018-09-06T18:54:24 | 140 | 77 |
[WP] "Please," the dying monster begged the Paladin, "spare the child." And so while the rest of the party celebrated, he sat by a large egg, struggling between his oath to protect the innocent and his oath to destroy all of the evil race. | I stared at the egg that rested in the pile of shattered bones and rotting animal carcasses. The smell alone was enough to make most men turn and run. Good thing we weren't most men. I was the one who dealt the final blow, but I hesitated.. oh gods why did I hesitate!? The beast was supposed to be stupid, savage, incapable of thought beyond "kill, eat, survive". Good for nothing other than to terrify locals and steal live stock from farms at the base of the mountain. It was supposed to be easy money. But it spoke to me. I don't know how, but in a flash of purple from its eyes I heard it in my head, and from the looks of it no one else did, or if they did they could ignore what I could not. It begged me to spare the child; its child.
So I stood there, watching as the light of my torch danced across the fleks of gold that covered the egg. It was beautiful, so innocent. The child did nothing wrong, why should it pay for the crimes its ancestors committed?
"Find anything worth my time?" The sorcerer called out.
I knew at that moment that he at least had not been told of the child, for if he knew then it would already be dead. I knew he did not care about the innocent in the ways that I do. That was the moment I had to decide between slaying a monster and protecting the helpless. Killing the defenseless, pure, unspoiled child. He could be right, it could be evil, just as horrible as its mother. It could be taught to be good, it could learn. I could teach it right from wrong. I could raise it. I did what any just man would do.
"Nope! Not even a silver!" I lied.
So now I sit here in my tent with the child beside me. I had to stuff it in my bag without anyone noticing it hope it didn't mind. They can't know about it. They would kill it, they wouldn't understand. They would try to kill it and I would stop them. I would kill them if they tried to hurt the child. My child. | Issac cradled the smooth egg in his arms as his party laughed heartily. Within the fragile shell laid the last changeling. The Norheimian Army had slaughtered all the others.
Mayell sheathed her sword with a victorious smile. "Finally, those vermin have been eradicated! The city council will be more than pleased to hear about this."
"Not just yet, Mayell," said the man next to her, wiping off blood from his shimmering armor. "Issac needs to let go of that damned egg first!"
"Of course Issac will let it go, Aidan. He's not stupid, you know."
Issac glanced back at the two. Then he glanced back at the egg in his arms. "Yes, I guess I'll leave it here in the cold. Surely the winter chill will kill it," he said with a sigh. He set the pearly egg down in the snow.
"Now come along, young'uns! The rest of the party's packed in the sled already!" yelled Aidan. "We better move out before the next storm."
Issac gives a final look back at the egg, resting in the plush snow. Soon it will dead. He dashed after Mayell, his heavy boots packing the snow underneath him.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Issac shivered violently as he swept the ice out of eyes. He drove the tired brown horses as hard as he could, the snow slicing into them like a sharpened knife. Suddenly, he spotted a familiar dot in the distance. The changeling camp.
The camp grew larger as he returned to the war zone. "Hah!" he yelled, yanking at the reins. Issac leaped out of the frosted sled and frantically scanned the ground. His breath froze to his scarf, scratching up his pale lips. He soon found the pearly white egg, sitting half-buried in the snow where he had left it.
Issac grabbed the egg and held it close to his body. Even under oath, he could not let the unborn creature die out in the blizzard. He clutched the egg as he hauled it to the sled, and placed it snugly under his feet in a pile of warm furs. He silently prayed that it would be alive as he cracked the reins of the sled. The horses reared up before swiftly galloping back towards the city.
As the blizzard cut into his body once again, Issac wondered what to do next. He couldn't tell Mayell, she would notify the council at once. If the army found out, he would be kicked out entirely for breaking oath.
"But I can't just let it die helplessly." He whispered to himself. His mind wandered again to the changeling stirring underneath him. "We will find a way, little one. I promise. That is one oath I will never break."
| 2018-09-26T20:33:08 | 2018-09-26T19:17:28 | 25 | 16 |
[WP] You've been magically gifted the ability to speak all languages. Anything you say comes out in the first language of whoever you're looking at. One day, you try to greet someone on the street and they gape in horror as ancient, unknowable eldritch sounds exit your mouth. The ground shakes... | ... the ground always shakes in the subway platform when the train goes by. The man.. he is crying.
After the train passes and the subway platform is quiet, the man explains to you that he is a novelist and has been writing a fantasy novel for 5 years, ever since his wife, Angie, passed away.
Angie loves the man’s writing. Whenever she finished a draft of one of his new novels she always told him, “I love the fire in your mind.”
Angie loved Tolkien and always wanted to read more novels with fantastic languages in them. After she passed, The man started writing a novel, and a fictional language along with it, which he called Malhalish.
But he gave up on the novel, it wasn’t good enough for Angie. And no matter what he wrote he wouldn’t be able to hear her thoughts on it, hear her voice ever again. She was gone. So what was the point?
He looks up at you smiling with tears in his eyes and says, “ you spoke to me in Malhalish.”
“What did I say”, you ask.
The mans eyes well up: “You said ‘I love the fire in your mind.’” | " You, do you have any idea what you have done ?"
The breathtakingly beautiful woman says as she glares at you.
You quickly look down out of embarrassment and shock .
"What, what is happening..."
You mutter as you look at the ground then your hands as if you didn't even recognize yourself anymore.
Speaking others languages never felt weird ,it always came so natural and was actually quite fun but this was different. This was dark.
But suddenly your thoughts are interrupted by the woman grabbing you by the arm and pulling you into a nearby alley.
Looking you up and down she grabs your hands and turns them over , studying your palms. Then with no hesitation she reaches down and pulls a small dagger from her boot and points it at you while yelling
"Stick out your tongue".
"What , n" you begin to say but before you get out another sound she sweeps your leg , knocking you to your knees ,grabs your hair with her left hand and pulls it close to her body.
Looking up you see her holding the dagger and feel her immense grip restraining you. You try to fight it ,but you can't break free. But you can hold your mouth shut,she can't hold you still and pry it open.
"Please let me go , I didn't mean to do anything wrong."
You begin to beg after you realize no one is coming to help and you are completely at this strangers mercy.
You feel her hold loosen and start to fight back harder. Suddenly she let's go and you fall to the ground, face first into the dirty city street.
But you are relieved, at least she let you go, your plea must have worked..
Suddenly you feel a sharp blow to the back of your head and everything gets fuzzy.
As you lose consicousness you look up to see her one last time. | 2019-01-11T14:40:20 | 2019-01-11T12:49:48 | 189 | 20 |
[WP] You're abducted by aliens & soon realize it's more of an adoption than an abduction. You're now a pet for a loving alien family. They can't understand you but they seem to understand your body language & have basic knowledge of what humans need to live and entertain themselves when they're busy | "This specimen comes from a G2V class star. It's an aerobic hominid. Their average life span is about... 1.1 HLGDs. This one's in pretty good shape."
"Only 1.1 HLGDs? Damn... How smart is it?"
"Ugh, we're gonna have to get a home gym for it aren't we?""Well, their species is borderline eusocial. They can't do much on their own, but as a species they've achieved quantum computers and performed high orbit space travel. It'll be a couple of hundred thousand years before they can be considered suitable for the interstellar council, however, if they don't nuke themselves first."
"So it's sapient but, just barely."
"Maybe some really simple holo-novels will do it.""It's smart enough to know what it doesn't know. It's also smart enough to be easily insulted. It probably has the gist of what we are and where it is actually. So try to treat it with some respect."
"And you're sure its people won't miss it?"
"Not that they could do anything about it..."
"I mean, they will, but not because of us. This one was on board an aerodynamic vehicle traveling in between their major continents. There was a malfunction and the vehicle was going to immolate. We beamed it up just before it would have been incinerated."
"... It looks kinda cute."
"What are those weird things on its chest?"
"Mammary glands. Sexual reproduction. Hominid, remember? I'm pretty sure this one's female."
"Sexual reproduction is so weird."
"That's not so weird. The fact that they can blow themselves up by flying over a little ocean is weird."
"It's a young species. Quantum computers isn't bad for a hominid species on any world."
"... We should probably get it a mate then. I don't want to start humping random objects. And yes, I've seen that before."
"... And you said sexually reproducing species aren't weird. Haha."
"How much?"
"4,000 credits."
"That's a bargain. Let's get it. Pleaaaaase?"
"How much for a male? And how often do they reproduce?"
"We don't have any males in stock right now, but we should be getting a large shipment in soon. A war is about to erupt close to their planet's equator, so it'll be easy to pick up a few dozen of them without anyone noticing. Females will go up in price, so you better grab her while you can. And in answer to your question, they can produce one infant every HLRU or so, but only under ideal circumstances."
"Ooh, we should start a colony of them on a small moon."
"They aren't prone to suicide due to existential crises are they?"
"... 3600 credits."
"Can they handle plasma weapons?"
"Heh, 4200 credits if you're gonna use them as gladiators. They're vicious little killers with a good track record in the sub-bipedal circuits. Though personally, I recommend the males for that. Also, you'll need a permit."
"We will NOT be putting it to fight. That's mean."
"Hey, I was just curious!" | When the alien invasion of October 31, 2038 came, it was nothing that the people of 1938 who had broadcast *War of the Worlds* exactly 100 years thence could have imagined.
Rather than a massive fleet of alien ships come to destroy our cities and ravage our crops, a single hovercraft, not even that much bigger than a Boeing 747, hovered about 500 metres above the ground, simply scanning and surveying the ground.
At the time, I was lying in a cardboard box. The company I was employed by had shut down last week, and I had nowhere to live while I looked for another job. I had no parents or girlfriend to help give me a place to crash, and so I had started to descend into homelessness.
Thus, I was one of the first people who wasn’t a member of NASA or the American military to see the craft hovering in the air.
I watched as this solitary craft weaved across the streets of Pittsburgh, like it was looking for a dropped wallet or something.
Finally, it started to reach the street I was on. I cranked my neck to get a better look at the underside of the craft. At this point, about twice the usual number of people were on the streets, looking up at the strange spacecraft and wondering what it was here for. People from other towns wouldn’t have had time to get here yet, and only local police would be available to disperse crowds.
Suddenly the craft swept its way to directly above my head... and stopped.
I got a pretty good look directly at the bottom surface that way... although at that moment I was looking around, wondering who or what next to me the craft was interested in.
Suddenly, a beam of light appeared that shot directly onto my cardboard box.
For a few seconds, I didn’t know how to react, then I realized that I was probably going to find out first hand how it felt to be beamed up and abducted.
Neither of those happened quite yet. Instead of me suddenly feeling like I was floating up, I heard the inexplicably familiar sound of a rip cord, getting louder and louder as it neared me somehow.
Then, right next to me, something that looked like a large mechanical hand fell, dangling three feet off the ground. This hand had five spindly fingers, that weren’t quite in the shape of a hand, but rather, equally spaced around a circle like an arcade claw. The bottom “finger” had what appeared to be a large disc on its tip. I looked up, and it looked like the mechanical hand was hanging by a 500-metre cord up into the UFO above.
Everybody was frozen in awe and observation at that moment, because it was something they’d never seen before, and absolutely nobody knew how to act. And while I was staring curiously up at the cord, the hand made its move and swiftly grabbed me at five points. All five fingers locked themselves into the disc on the tip of the bottom finger and tightened, latching tight to my shoulders, my waist, and between my legs like a safety harness, the disc now pressing against my back like a stretcher on a rescue lift.
Suddenly my reflexes came back, and I struggled to either pull off or slide out of the thing that had just unceremoniously clamped itself around me — but it wouldn’t budge. They’d covered all the points, and nothing was slipping out of that claw.
In that moment, some people standing next to me came back to their senses, and tried to run over to help. Then, like a tape measure slurping itself back into its reel, I felt myself being yanked up toward the craft. Nobody had made it towards me in that moment, and nobody even managed to touch me before I started my journey into some alien’s prize bin. I flailed around helplessly, and realized that I really _was_ going to find out what it was like to be abducted today.
[1/?] | 2019-05-09T16:11:50 | 2019-05-09T15:43:12 | 543 | 200 |
[WP] At once, and everywhere, each living person has heard a voice in their head: "Hey! It's me, God. I've noticed there's a lot of confusion, so I've created a website called 'Will I go to hell and why dot com'. Just write your name in the search bar. And don't forget to share, like and subscribe." | *"...don't forget to share, like and subscribe."*
The "words of god" fell like a ton of bricks in my mind, I was alone in my apartment, but even here I could hear my upstairs neighbour screaming "what the hell?..." and then his TV with a special announcement from the news
Thousands at first, then millions, then a couple of billions people, all around the world typed the sacred URL in their computers and phones. I was one of the curious billions, eager to know my soul's final destination
In the TV a couple of news anchors were testing the website in real time, while a banner showed the URL in an endless loop
Then we waited and waited... And waited
The website never loaded, it seems that not even God or his sysadmin could make a website capable of enduring a global scale DDoS attack
Edit: thanks for the Silver, kind redditor | "Hey! It's me, God. I've noticed there's a lot of confusion, so I've created a website called "willigotohell.god". Just put your name in the search bar. Toodles!"
"What. The. Fuck." The words escaped my mouth.
I was not the only person to react to the bizzare voice.
"Did you hear that?" Another passenger asked.
"Will I go to hell dot com?" The driver responded, uncertain.
I whipped out my phone and typed the address in. My hands trembled as I tapped my name in. After a few moments of "Searching, please stand by!" my heart sank.
"Yep. You're going to hell. Have fun, and try the buffet!" The words blurred as tears welled within my eyes. What had I done to deserve this?
========
Yahweh: LUCIFER!
LucyWucy: Yes?
Yahweh: What did you do?
LucyWucy: Hahahaha!
Yahweh: It's not funny, literally everyone is freaking out!
FishyBoi69: It's a little funny.
Yahweh: Shut up. Do you have any idea how hard it'll be to fix this debacle!?
\-Yahweh has left. "Reason: Me dammit Lucy!"
FishyBoi69: So, about that buffet?
========
Thanks for reading, my very first submission, so please be gentle. | 2019-08-27T09:23:46 | 2019-08-27T09:09:37 | 2,356 | 72 |
[WP] Every day when you return home from work, your dog greets you by bringing you a seemingly random item, which will turn out to be useful throughout the day. One day, after a peticularly stressful day of work, your dog greets you with a sword at his feet, happily wagging his tail. | "Baxter! Here boy! Daddy's home!"
An enormous bark echoed through the house as my huge Tibetan Mastiff lumbered into the living room from the bedroom hallway. The black shaggy dog was a massive specimen of his species, easily four feet at the shoulder. I had to buy a bigger house just so he'd have enough room to run around.
We had a nightly ritual eagerly anticipated by both parties. Every day Bax would greet me with some random item that would curiously be very helpful the next day.
For example, one night I came home from work and he presented me with a pair of my running shoes. The next day I decide to take him on a run through the wooded trails behind the neighborhood. Half way through the run I come across and woman who had broke her leg.
I used the shoestrings to tie up a makeshift splint for her injury while we waited for emergency services to arrive.
Every day was like that, though usually not as dramatic. Today I used the extra floss/tooth pick combo thing he gave me to fish out a splinter I'd gotten in my finger.
Curiously though, tonight he brought me an authentic roman gladius I bought years ago when I was obsessed with the movie Gladiator.
"Why do you think I need a sword, Bax?"
He stared at me, wagging his tail. A slight chill swept down my spine. I pulled the blade free from its scabbard, and it gleamed in the moonlight from the window.
Suddenly the fireplace roared to life. I put myself between it and Bax and held the sword aloft. The fire began to swell. Higher and higher the flames roared, spewing out into the living room.
"Run Bax! Run!" I screamed at him, running towards the kitchen. Baxter didn't move. I ran back and grabbed his collar, trying to pull him along. He's two hundred lbs. of dog, I lost.
I turned back to the blaze and to my surprise it wasn't catching on the walls or the ceiling. There was a sudden whooshing sound of air escaping, and the flames began to swirl together, forming a vortex leading into a black void.
"What the hell is that?" I asked, stunned at the sight. The gladius fell from my fingers, hitting the carpet with a muted thunk.
Baxter rose and walked toward the flames. He turned back to me and looked me square in the eyes.
"This is a portal to my home world, Alan. Please follow me, you are needed."
"Beg pardon? Didn't process that."
"Alan. There is no time. The portal is about to close. Please help me."
I nodded in disbelief and wonder and of course I would say yes. He's my bestest bud.
"Let's go, boy."
"Thank you, master. Please bring the sword with you. You'll need it."
\----------
Thanks for reading! | I have a Pomeranian, his name is Rix. He's too cute, like the type of cuteness which makes you go "Awww". Rix is smart too, but not just the fetch-a-ball kind of smart, na. He's almost a clairvoyant. You see, he has a peculiar habit of bringing random stuff to me whenever I come back home from work. But every other dog does this, right? Well, the catch here is - 9/10 times that random thing he brings to me proves extremely useful to me for the rest of the day.
Once Rix brought me a doll, and on that very day my neighbor left her son with me for babysitting. That doll proved to be really useful in keeping the baby calm.
Once Rix brought me a knife, and on that very day I used it to kill Sarah! Oh and Sarah is... err... *was* my girlfriend, by the way. She was an angel, a true damsel. A freak in bed too, if I am being honest. And she was... Oh, sorry. I think I wandered away from my dog. Oopsie!
Once Rix brought me a ball, you know, the ones they use in tennis. And on that very day I went on a dog-date with Liz! She was so happy when me and Rix played with her Lillie. She was genuinely cheerful, I saw it on her face! It was a nice evening.
Once Rix brought me a gun, and on that very night a burglar crashed into my house! Now, you see, I don't keep guns. They are just so... loud & abrasive. But that day the gun helped me in catching the burglar, and I handed him to the police. They thanked me! I was feeling like a proud citizen that day, not gonna lie.
Oh and I surrendered the gun too.
Now today, Rix brought me a sword. And nah, not the cosplay ones. The real deal. Here it is, let me show you.
How's it? Looks real cool, right? It just needs a good sharpening job and it will be as good as new. If you ask me, I am a fan of those European longswords, not these Japanese katanas. The European ones just look so much more sturdy and durable, these Japanese ones look fragile as hell. Not a fan. Ah well, a sword's a sword, I guess.
I don't know where the hell did Rix find it, but this is some good stuff. But the thing is, I don't think I can use it today itself, it needs some much needed repairs. So I think I gotta break the charm, I will use it after a week, when it will be shinin' like a new one. Oh and this is good news for you too, Alex. I have postponed your departure by a week, but you gotta be here in the basement, buddy. Just don't fiddle much here, okay? Liz is coming here for a sleepover with Lillie, and I want to have a good time with her. And don't worry, I will not leave you alone. She'll be gone in a couple of days, Lillie has a scheduled surgery appointment three days from now. Poor girl. Pugs always have problems with their noses, I tell ya. The government should ban their breeding, they live in so much discomfort!
Here's your food, I'll bring something to drink after a while, okay?
Good Night! | 2019-12-31T16:36:30 | 2019-12-31T14:49:19 | 17 | 12 |
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