prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] You run a daycare after the apocalypse. An unspoken rule among the wastelanders says the Daycare is off-limits to all. You raise the children of warlords, chieftains, and nomads. | I had never been a productive member of society before the End. Time changes us all, as they say, and after a fashionable time off spent digging myself out of a pile of concrete, I came to the realization that the world had changed, and so did I.
The daycare was, at first, more an orphanage than a daycare. I gathered little survivors who had lost their parents. At first they were afraid, and they cried, but surviving the worst had made me a new man. I had gained patience and empathy, two traits I never though I possessed. One by one, they came to accept me as their foster parent.
After a fashion, some of their parents who they though dead found my little orphanage. They came to me with humble gratefulness and took back their kid. Some of them I never saw again, yet most of them came back on a regular basis. Everyday, during foraging and warring hours, raiders, nomads and techno-barbarians started using my services as a keeper. A children keeper.
There must be a word for that job, but I never bothered to learn it. Yet I did it splendidly. My orphanage slowly morphed into a daycare. My daycare became a haven of peace in a wasteland otherwise known for it's murderous ghouls, barbarians and mutants.
The parents would thank me, at first sheepishly, then earnestly. Mortal enemies would sometimes meet while on my ground, and they would ignore one another. Everybody came to know that the daycare was a new form of holy ground. A place of peace in a brutal world.
I still had to keep them in line from time to time, though. All children keepers must know that kind of parent:
"Mister Longshot? May we have a chat? I've heard little Wink speak ill of Tadpole's parents. It lead to a nasty fight between them."
"It has?"
"Yes. I could convince them to make peace after a while, so all is good, yet... *could you please* keep the warmongering talk outside of your kid's life, at least for a couple more years?"
"I, uuuh... yes, for sure. I'll be careful for now on. Thank you for letting me know."
"Thank you... who?"
The warlord shrank a little bit. Although being in my shadow, he started sweating.
"Thank you, Doctor Apocalypse. Thanks for everything." | Angel died yesterday, probably. His lifeless frame was found crumpled, his skin long gray, gross-smelling fluids oozing from his eyes and mouth. But it could have been earlier, I suppose than yesterday that he perished.
I mostly kept busy with the day's sudoku while the others dealt with him, as they're want to do.
The puzzle had a quite beautiful X-wing that took me a handful of minutes to find. By the time the ink had dried, they stood outside around the little mound of dirt, singing.
One of the young ones beckoned for me, pointing to a crying welp. The stench of Angel's liquids, still soaked into the floorboards pounded my temples, though. I snapped at an older girl, pointed at the baby with her full diaper, and went to lie down.
Sometime later, I woke up in a sweat. One of the damn children had opened the curtain, letting the blazing sun bare down on us.
Entering the kitchen, I took a portion of beans cooked by the older girls of the house before the scent of Angel's rot filled my nostrils.
Thankfully, one of the little ones noticed my revulsion. She jumped to her feet, abandoning her plate. Returning with incense sticks and candles, she lit them before rejoining the table. I gave her head a little pat, her cheek a little squeeze.
Leaving the filth of the grubby ones behind was a necessity. I spent some time tidying my one refuge, my bedroom, before opening a warm can of premixed jack and coke.
Finally, I felt a lightness in my chest. The drink went down easy, and I was shortly on my second, sitting jovially in my rocking chair. I flitted from book to book, from game to game, from thought to thought, playing music loud enough to escape the irritations of the other room.
Yet, in a moment of utmost joy, I smelled it again. I whipped my head about, looking for the source.
Instead, my eyes landed on the vent, and I erupted from my haven, knocking down a few oafs who had been waiting by my door.
I launched into the baby room and retched. Diapers piled high, in long decayed garbage bags. The thin reedy cry of a baby much in need of water filled my ears, and intense anger accompanied me.
The feelings mounted. The whine escalated, permeating through my spine. The smell of shit and decay flowed rapidly from my nostril to invade my brain, clouding my vision and thoughts. The *needs* and the wide-eyed stare of children clutching soft, dirty blankets disgusted me.
The need for alone time, for a place of my own, for a refuge piled.
I rushed to my bedroom, locking the door and even propping a chair under the handle. Towels and insulation were stuffed in the vents and cracks, and nose plugs were followed by ear plugs.
I couldn't hear the heavenly sound that accompanied the jack and coke cracking open, but I could taste the sweet bitters. | 2022-12-23T12:23:36 | 2022-12-23T09:22:58 | 561 | 24 |
[WP] How strongly can you make someone hate a character? | It wasn't enough to get a hundred. Any fool could get a hundred. The commander had set the bar too low so that the nobodies could crawl over it. Jiro was going to do better. He was going to make his ancestors proud. He was going to get every possible kind of Nanjing scum there was. He was going to behead each one with a sword. He was going to be perfect.
He jumped off the truck before it has stopped and sprinted to the virgin street. He ran straight to the nearest house and right up to the window. There was no time to lose. The screaming had already started before he had started smashing the window with his rifle butt and didn't stop when he climbed through.
And then he saw it. The twin crib. The beautiful miracle of a twin crib. You could go a whole town without getting twins. The family scurried around him crying and begging. He went straight towards the soft, white crib. His heart began to racing as he got closer. He almost hesitated to look inside but didn't.
It was perfect.
| I stared into the eyes of my daughter. She had been crying, something about her boyfriend breaking up with her. I wiped away the tears with a quick slap to her face.
I yelled at her. I couldn't believe my 16 year old grown-ass girl was crying over a stupid boy.
"Shut your mouth" I whispered at her. No daughter of mine would be such a spineless bitch. Not in my house. The wife entered the room, but left quickly after she saw the tears and my girl holding her cheek. At least one of the bitches in my household knew who the master was.
I wasn't done though...
I grabbed my daughter by the throat next and tossed her against the wall. She landed hard with a loud *thump*. She burst out crying now, full on sobs that only made me angrier.
"Shut up, you stupid, spineless *cunt*!" And i landed a closed fist on her head. Not once though, once was not enough to cut it. I struck her with my fists at least three other times, I wasn't sure though considering I blacked out for a moment. When I came-to, she was lying on the ground, arms covering her bruised and bleeding face. I noticed her shirt was coming up out of its place, exposing a very small amount of her midriff.
"You whore..." I started. She wasn't wearing another layer? "He probably dumped you because you're such a fucking whore." I grasped her jeans, ripped off the button, tore down the zipper and pulled her pants down. Soft skin was exposed to me, her tight, well-toned body was spotless. At least my bitch of a daughter kept her body in a relatively decent condition.
"I'll show you how a man really treats a woman."
EDIT: teh grammarz | 2013-09-15T04:47:37 | 2013-09-14T19:04:07 | 113 | 10 |
[WP] North Korea is a veritable paradise on earth but we have no idea because of aggressive propaganda and out of context quotes of the nk leadership.
The reality is the exact opposite of what the West think is true. The truth is being kept from us for fear that we would revolt if we discovered the amazing North Korean social system which provides a utopia to all of its citizens. | The young lieutenant slammed the foreign newspaper onto the conference table, then quickly attempted, and failed, to compose himself. An unflattering picture of Dear Leader leered from its pages, accompanied by a mocking headline. The elder Chairman, ever patient, allowed himself a faint smile while he waited for the predictable tirade from his protege.
"Mr. Chairman, it's intolerable!"
"And yet we must tolerate it."
"But the claims of famine, when our people..."
"Yes, they do not understand how our advances in nutrition can feed our people without the need for so much food. The Americans see us with no cheap hamburgers and think us hungry. They see us with no sugary drinks and think us thirsty. They die early, fat and miserable, while we live long and healthy lives."
"They think us warlike, when they are the ones who have killed thousands and thousands..."
"I know, I know. We have to make these threats to keep them from invading, that's the only language they understand. I must give Dear Leader credit, he's played them to perfection. We're intimidating enough that they see the high cost of invasion, yet not so intimidating that they feel they must. We've given them just the boogeyman they need for their politics of fear, they'd be fools to give that up so easily. All we must do, once in a while, is fire a missile into the ocean where it cannot harm anyone. Dear Leader controls them himself, you know, he quite enjoys it."
The lieutenant finally found the words to express his true concern. "But Mr. Chairman -- they don't respect us."
"Ah!" The old man had been waiting for this moment. "What would they respect? Guns? We have no use for them, other than for show. Technology? Our technology simplifies our lives, theirs complicates theirs. They show themselves maps of our country at night and wonder where the lights are, and never imagine that we can see the stars and they cannot. What would you have us do to ourselves to gain their respect?"
| "Mi Kyung! The pictures! Hurry!"
"Why the fuck are you speaking English?"
"... what? It doesn't matter. We go live in 2 hours... what's that?"
A tall, trim man in spotless, white, flowing robes pointed at a straw hut in the corner of the floating image.
"What? It's just a hut."
"It's been six months since we leaked the last batch, shouldn't we have made some... you know... progress?"
"Han ran the numbers. We're still years away."
"That guy's too fat."
"Look, if I morph him any more, even *they* will be able to tell we made this shit up."
"2 hours."
As the white-garbed man walked down the hallway, holographic cameras modeled his every motion, broadcasting his movements to everyone in The New Republic of North Korea who was currently tuning in to the Korean equivalent of what the lesser people called "C-SPAN".
Park swiped at the overlays floating in the air as he looked into the camera and spoke:
"In just a few hours, we're going to be showing the cavemen some of this shit, and superimposing dinosaurs onto videos of their reactions. Unfortunately, those continue to be in 2 dimensions."
He walked past a brightly-lit dome, before backtracking and peering inside.
"Everything okay?"
Fumbling ensued as the ensign struggled to emerge from his stupor, slightly embarrassed that his inattentiveness was broadcast across the country, as is standard for all private and public bureaucracy.
"Yes, sir. No distortions in the last 2 weeks."
"Good."
"They didn't spot the last one, too. Maybe they're blind."
He wouldn't be surprised if the cavemen *were* blind. He had been on a "zoological" tour once, and accidentally caught a whiff of their unfiltered air, and nearly passed out.
Park nodded and continued walking down the grey corridor, away from Projection, where the delinquent was maintaining a masking system so perfectly designed that the only time it hinted at hiding anything was when the Koreans themselves entered and egressed their Utopia.
The door to the studio slid open, and the camera drone floated in after Park. After dictating the day's news entirely from memory, with more than a little contempt, Park waved a hand in the air, and two disproportionate bars appeared.
"My friends, as always, I leave you with The Numbers. A resounding 82% of you have voted to keep this charade up. I, myself, have no idea why we continue to do this, but I think we can all agree that it's as funny as hell, and when finally do decide to bring civility to these barbarians, nuclear weapons will be the least of their concerns. Thank you, and good night." | 2014-06-26T08:39:12 | 2014-06-26T07:29:36 | 260 | 27 |
[WP] When humans mature, they gain a single magic spell. The incantation is a single verb, and (a) subsequent command(s) if desired.
An example of the incantation could be "Obey, get me coffee."
| "Can you hook me up?"
I looked at the kid in front of me, he was, with a liberal guess, fifteen. But he was obviously resourceful, he managed to find me in this haunted city.
"Well, it depends on what you want." I said.
"I want a *discern.*"
*Discern*. Ah. That was an expensive item, because of the nature of it. You could rifle through anyone's head. It was also an extremely uncommon find. What did a fifteen year old want a discern for?
"Why?"
"It's getting you money, you don't really need to know." He gripped his armrests and seemed extremely angry at the question.
"Hey, buddy. How about you cool your tone and answer the question." I said. Stupid children. They always underestimate while simultaneously overestimate the raw power of commands.
"Well, there's a girl, and I don't know if she likes me or not." He said, with a straight face.
I laughed. Hard. I laughed so hard tears streamed down my face. I finally retained my composure and I looked up at the kid. He looked very unsettled.
"What are you willing to give me for it?" I asked, at last.
"Well, my grandpa said he's willing to give up his, but you have to give him *overpower* too." The boy replied.
"What is his word?" I said, wondering what could be so esoteric that his grandfather thought he could get two of such powerful commands.
"Enchant."
"Deal, bring him here and I'll do it." I said, greedily. Enchant was a big deal, especially for a salesman like myself. I've only seen three in the wild, and no one was willing to sell. This must be a special case.
"Hey, son." I said, before right before he walked out the door.
"Yeah?" He asked, turning around.
"Why does your grandfather want the *overpower*, instead of *enchant*?"
"He has cancer. He's hoping to *overpower* it." He said, and he left.
I sat down and poured a drink. Today was a good day. Saving a life, getting *enchant*, only losing one of my two overpowers, and a discern.
I loved being born with *transfer.*
| We'd all been brought up to look forward to adulthood, making money, settling down and being responsible, the dull stuff.
Life was always supposed to be much more than that though, why did the fun have to end as soon as we turned 18? Well, fortunately, it didn't. The solar storm gave the human race something amazing, a gift that even science struggled to explain.
Magic.
Not Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings magic, that was still the work of fiction, but a magic that was real and useful. Studies were done at it was apparent that everyone was unique with each person developing powers at a different time, a bit like wisdom teeth I guess.
We all had a single power, activated by a single word. Of course this led to some tricky situations when we were in the process of working out what our powers actually were, the A&E departments were buisier than ever!
So what did this all mean? Well, for one, it meant we were all capable of doing things we could never have imagined. Secondly, it was another excuse for politicians to stick their noses in the lives of the citizens. And, thirdly, we were able to have fun!
Of course there were teething problems and not a day went by without a story in papers, for example the UK Transport Minister was hospitalised after discovering his word whislt cycling to a Cabinet meeting, it was 'Brake', the poor man was sent flying off Lambeth Bridge at full tilt.
Then there was the incident in New York when a woman found out that her word was 'leap' and duly flew up into the air, higher than even the tallest skyscraper. Unfortunately her body was still as human as ever and she was dead as soon as she hit the floor.
But things are getting better, we've all worked out what are words are and are making sure we exclude them for our vocabulary, at least until we need them. Governments implemented special facilities for people to rattle through lists of words to try and discover a power. Some people with more impressive powers have even started to act like superheroes, like the Latvian farmer who ended up with 'rise' being his word and basically became telekenetic.
As for me, I got 'drain'. This doesnt mean I let water drain into my orifices, it actually means I can draw a bit if extra energy from power sources. So I always carry a packet of batteries around with me incase I get tired. There's very little practical use for it to be honest but I enjoy it.
So what do we say to children now? Yes, you'll still be making money, settling down and being responsible but you'll also be amazing! You'll have your own brilliant power that no one else has. You'll actually be unique and incredible in your own little way. Enjoy it.
(But make sure you actually know what your buzzword is before start using it OK!) | 2014-11-15T20:37:44 | 2014-11-15T19:15:25 | 67 | 13 |
[WP] Satan suddenly appears in a crowded mall, and begins terrifying the holiday shoppers. He stops, looks directly at you and says, "You... You're interesting. Do your friends know what you are?" You have no idea what he means. | I've never really felt special, you know. Was always the girl who'd stand beside her friend as she fell in love with some cute boy, and I'd always later watch the cute boy tiptoe over to give her a kiss. But not me. I never had good grades. Not bad ones either, just average. I wasn't a creative soul, I wasn't extremely smart. I didn't have any crazy hobbies and never really had a dreams of what I wanted to become.
I was just an average girl, living her average life, never having felt special.
It was a Friday in December, snow had just fallen thick two days before and I was shopping with my friends. We'd only just rounded the corner when I suddenly found myself confronted with something different. Something completely out of the average.
A gigantic bolt of lightning crashed through the glass roof, smoke poured in from all sides and cracks of electricity danced about.
Everyone freaked out, some people cowered, some people ran, lots of people screamed.
But as soon as the smoke had poured it, it was suddenly washed away to a single boy standing in the center of the mall. His black clothes were ripped and wavy, his black hair was messy and... smoking?
Me and bunch of my friends had taken cover behind a planter and I was peeking over the top.
Then I saw his eyes.
He had no eyes.
There were two gaping holes of fire. Where his eyes should be there were two balls of fire. Oddly, he didn't seem to mind.
And then he spoke.
It was the most harrowing sound I'd ever experienced. His voice would creep inside you, shake your bones, tickle your spine, scratch the insides of your nails. It caused plenty of goosebumps.
"MORTALS!" he began, "BEHOLD, THY MAKER"
At this point it was becoming quite apparent to everyone that they best start packing their bags, nobody was going to make it out alive.
I saw a woman running towards the exit, before a spike of fire shot from the boy's hands and pierced her right through the heart. The woman fell to the ground and slowly disintegrated to a strange black smoke.
"YOU CAN NOT RUN"
He then turned to an overturned table, and smashed that with a bolt of lighting. The table shattered and the people behind it soon followed the running woman's example.
"YOU CANNOT HIDE"
And then he turned to me. I ducked before he could see me, but soon our planter was thunderbolted to bits. I didn't really know what to expect of death. It never crossed my mind. I closed my eyes and waited for my heart to be firespiked out of my body.
My heart never got firespiked, though.
I waited. And waited. And waited even longer, but I never died.
I opened my eyes again, and looked towards the boy in the center. The rest of the mall was reduced to a hazy timeless fog. Nobody moved. Nothing made a sound.
His fireballs were replaced with 'normal' eyes. He also didn't look like he was about to kill me. He was frowning, rather. The frown a man would put on as if he'd suddenly seen something very strange.
He spoke again. "You..."
His voice wasn't mind-harrowing anymore. It had also become 'normal'.
"Yeah?" I asked, still half expecting to die any second now.
"You're interesting."
"Excuse me?"
"Do your friends know what you are?"
I looked at him in disbelief. I had no idea what he meant.
He walked over to me.
I had meanwhile gotten up and was just standing there, waiting.
He inspected me closely.
"You..."
"Me?"
He looked me straight in the eyes.
"You're beautiful." | Jesus Christ. I swear, if had to dodge one more fat-assed mama pushing her obese three-year-old in a baby carriage, I was going to kill someone.
But I knew better. So, as always, I smiled politely, said "excuse me," and tried to regain momentum in the throng of holiday shoppers. Christmas. What bullshit. Just another way to fuck you out of your money.
Then he appeared. No smoke, no fire, no retinue of demons. Just a tall, thin man with slicked back hair and oil-black eyes. Not a lick of white in them. But it was not the image that stopped everyone, it was the force. This immediate sense of unrelenting hopelessness, the unbearable weight of despair that stopped everyone in their tracks, and made them look up at the man standing near the top of the unmoving escalator.
A baby cried; mom immediately shushed the child, as the man wound his way down the crowded steps, somehow without touching anybody.
He made a beeline for me.
"You," he said, when he reached me, "You're interesting. Do your friends know what you are?"
I had no idea what he was fucking talking about. I looked him over, and before answering, I pulled out a cigarette. Smoking's against the rules in the mall, but fuck it.
I lit up and took a long, thoughtful drag. I blew the smoke off to the side. I didn't want to be impolite. Up close to him, I could feel the full force of his oppression, but strangely, it didn't bother me all that much. I guess I was more fed up than I knew.
"I haven't got a clue what you're talking about, pal," I said.
He grabbed me by the arm, and pulled me toward the escalator. His grip felt weird. It was both cool and hot at the same time, like the feeling you get when you slam your leg in a car door.
He pulled me up the stairs with him, this time shoving people out of his way. I chucked my cigarette into the wishing pool, in that moment fulfilling the dreams of thousands of smokers. *Because that's what you do,* some small part of my mind thought.
We reached the top. He turned me around roughly to face the still-silent crowd below.
"DO YOU SEE THIS CREATURE?" he bellowed, without really yelling. "DO YOU KNOW WHO HE IS???"
He turned to me. "You pathetic piece of shit! Look at you! Flat-brim cap, shitty fake gold necklaces, and for God's sake, son, pull your fucking pants up!"
I tried to hitch my pants up, but he was still holding my arm.
He turned back to the crowd. "DO YOU KNOW WHO THIS IS? THIS IS THE FUCKING CRAPPY PIECE OF SHIT YOU CALL GOD!"
And with that, he threw me over the rail.
My arms flailed as I headed to the floor below, and my head burst like a melon when it slammed into the tile floor.
No. No, it didn't. I stood up, a little shaky, and pulled my pants up. *This is also what you do,* my mind whispered. I picked up my cap, but didn't put it on. I was afraid my head might be tender where it had whacked the floor.
Then it hit me. Hit me like a goddamn freight train. I looked at all the people staring at me, then through them, then I saw the building in my mind's eye and I was flying and my head was gonna explode with the stars and the galaxies and music like I'd never heard before and I was the size of the world, no bigger! and with one single breath, I could --
Suddenly, I was back in the mall. I looked up at Satan, and winked.
"Thanks, bub, I needed that."
"Anytime, boss," he said. Then he vanished.
People started moving around me again, their chatter resuming as if nothing had happened. As if Satan hadn't just appeared in front of them and thrown some 17-year-old kid off the top of the escalator. As if said kid hadn't gotten up as if nothing had happened.
But it had. I pulled out a cigarette, then remembered that you couldn't smoke in the mall. It was gonna be a long day. I had a lot of work to do.
| 2014-12-06T05:10:37 | 2014-12-06T04:50:39 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] Waking from cryostasis is now possible. The government develops an experiment where somebody is to be placed into a large chamber in the middle of the city and awoken every 50 years for just one week. Your name is chosen. | “December 11, 4614. My name is Edmund Schulman, 2600 years ago was my last birthday. I am the oldest living terrestrial mammal on earth.”
I’ve done this exactly 52 times now. I remember reciting the same exact phrase the way the first batch of scientists instructed. The digital camcorder remarkably the same and in perfect condition, exactly as it was before my first “Jump” in 2014.
I look around me and find the new batch of scientists going about their business. Monitoring my vitals, making sure everything is proper. Every time I am brought back from cryostasis, I’m absolutely amazed. They keep getting younger and younger. This batch looks the youngest to me. The oldest one doesn’t look a day over 19 years old.
Before my first ‘jump’, I was told that I would be kept awake only for 7 days every 50 years. Then put back to Cryostasis. They said that the 7 days would feel more like 3 hours due to the effect of something they called “cryogentic time dialation”. For this reason I was not allowed outside of the Lab.
To absorb all that I can in the short amount of time, they have me watch a video 30 minutes long with a condensed summary of things I should remember from the past 50 years. I’m allowed to record any personal remarks straight to my video blog mounted right outside my cryogenic chamber.
It’s now time to jump again, I enter the cryo chamber after receiving a shot from one of the scientific staff. It feels cold in there, though never really feels any colder than winter. I count to 10 as instructed and doze off into my cryonic sleep.
BUZZZZ! My chamber door opens again. Woah 50 years in the blink of an eye again. Expecting to see the new batch of scientists, I was shocked to see my closest friends from 2014, all of whom I presumed dead over 2000 years ago.
I was taken aback with all the laughing and cheers, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. My brother Ben, who escorted me to this very lab in 2014 drops the bomb. “Hey timecapsule boy, did you like your amusement ride?” I was confused. “Yeah bud, check this out” He hands me an roller coaster ride quality photo. It shows me lying down surrounded by friends, all laughing at me. At the very top in bold white letters “I was a time travel prank victim” and at the bottom “Galaxy Amusements, Barry Goldberg, DDS.”
A fucking dentist founded an amusement company, cleverly using small doses of anesthesia to repeatedly put me to sleep for 10 minutes at a time while they staged the props around my chambers, making it seem like I was actually travelling frozen through time every time I arose. | The light burns at my sheltered retina as I hear hissing of the vacuum, or is it over pressure? Countless times I've been through this process and yet I still forget. The offending light is partially blocked and now my ears are assaulted with a even newer form of Mandlish, the inevitable merging of English and mandarin, this was starting after my 5th wake up. I stopped counting at 1200. How many people had I talked to, how many talk tours, then holo tours, then the terrifying yet exhilirating neurmotion tours, the mix of neural link and emotional download. The upgrades that i was given kick in and my eyes adjust and ears stop ringing as I stare at the man? Maybe, I don't know the mix of genetic manipulation and nano technology means anyone can be either at the choice. I have yet to accept that uprgade.
"You wake, we talk."
"Yeah yeah, I know, I still see grammar is lost?"
The man rolls his eyes
I walk out of the pod that once sat in the middle of Akron, ....somewhere. I don't know it's been so long. The pod has never moved yet the surroundings have changed, from creeping consumer outlets to creeping skyscrapers to the inevitable move back to sustainable living. Now I stare at machines, giant machines that leave their purpose no way in doubt.
"What, what happened since my last long night?" I ask as perform a ritual with the dirt that I learned some thousand of years ago when the spiritualist were in charge, I shall never forget her name, Zandgro, she taught me that life is eternal, that I am a cruel joke to physically manifest this.
"We have angered the gods, they come for you, the one who lives without the eternal night."
"Gods? What are you talking ab---" it hits me, several wakes back I learned about a rogue state that was uploading their selves into machines, in doing so losing the individual and gaining the collective, all humanity lost. "What do you need me of, why do you care"
"Cause, you are the one of love, a connection to our past, there is some among us that notice we have lost our way, that greed has creeped back up, and these gods are the example and embodiment of it"
"But what can I do, I am eons old yet the body of a 34 year old, I have no military training"
The machines hatches opened and some soldiers began to assemble, eyes and ears eager for words they needed.
"Yes, but you live during the time of war, during the call."
"Look, I was pretty good but I really don't think I am who you need"
The man stared, his eyes glazing as if he was thinking of some unseen horror that he had witnessed, the soldiers seem to coward at what they knew was coming
"They said that they had sex with your mom, and that you are a fag"
I feel the adrenal glands pump the force giving molecules into my blood stream as my heart pumps harder and my eyes focus on the streaks of light coming across the sky, in the distance explosions start. I walk up to a soldier and grab his weapon.
"Let's show the noobs a good baggin"
The screams that erupt from the gathered masses outplay the explosions and din of streaking aerobraking maneuvers and orbital bombardment. As I mount one the machines guns, I think back fondly at all the long turned to dust 12 year olds that fueled my anger as their war taunts rang in my ear, for I have answered the call.
| 2014-12-19T07:53:55 | 2014-12-19T06:46:09 | 118 | 24 |
[WP] Make a story so awkward even the narrator start's getting uncomfortable.
. _ .
Starts*
Auto correct is my mortal enemy. | Alright! It’s that point in the story where the guy gets the girl. Where he decides that he does have enough confidence, and she will respond to it. She has to.
Okay, walk over... Just. No, walk normal. LIKE A HUMAN PERSON. Alright, you’re almost there. Whoops, a little trip. No worry. Stairs are tricky. She isn’t even looking at you. Yet. You can still do this just fine. You got it.
Deep breath. Not that deep. Everyone heard you. That girl, over there, she looked. Let it out. SLOWER. You essentially blew on this girl. She’s looking at you. Speak.
Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
That’s you. That’s what you sound like. You’re the protag, dammit. This whole story is about you. She only exists as long as you’re both on the same page, now talk to her like you are the center of this story. Oh god. She’s not going to get that reference. That’s both a sci-fi TV show and old as hell. Nobody but your stupid friends will know what that means. Just be forward and tell her you would like to hang out or something.
WHOA! Way too forward. See the face she’s giving you now? That means you lose. Back away. Don’t even try to salvage this. No. Stop talking. She’s not going to see you around. I said back away, not back up. Oh god, you pushed the kid with crutches down the stairs. Don’t cry! You’re a Senior in high school for chrissakes.
Hey! Hey, other narrator. You wanna trade?
**In a world, where I really don’t want to do that, one man told you to cram it back up your ass**
Fine. Fine. No need for all of that. This kid better turn out to be rich someday…
| “I can’t wait to finally meet your parents.” Brians tells Chelsea on the drive over to her family’s house. Chelsea has been hesitant to bring me over to meet her family. I don’t know why. She talks about them a lot. They’re both rather successful. Unfortunately, Chelsea knew something about her parents she didn’t want to share with Brian.
“Yeah. It’ll be great.” She says, looking out the window and mentally planning reasons to excuse herself from the meeting.
They pull into the driveway and Chelsea walks up to the door in much the same way a person would approach the gallows. She opens the door and walks in. “They’re upstairs. They texted me to tell us to have a seat. They’ll be down at the minute.” She stares at the floor and when she arrives at the table she stares at her plate. Brian is still excited to meet them. He can tell Chelsea is nervous so he…(sigh), plants a kiss on her forehead and…. wraps an arm around her. He regrets his decision to display affection as soon as the parents come down the stairs.
“Uncle Robert?” I ask. I haven’t seen him since I was four. They only recently moved back to the area. Brian was supposed to be meeting his…cousin….for dinner….over the holidays. They had not met before, or skyped, or texted, or seen each other’s facebook accounts. OR ANYTHING ELSE THAT WOULD HAVE PREVENTED THIS SITUATION WHICH ANY NORMAL ADULT WOULD DO. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, anyway, the parents froze a bit on the stairs when they saw Brian with his arm around…his cousin. Brian had decided to play it cool and pretend nothing was happening. He decided to ruffle Chelsea’s hair affectionately to show that it wasn’t a big deal.
“Should we play this off?” The uncle asks.
“For now.” The aunt responds.
“So Chelsea, nephew Brian, how are you?” The uncle asks, trying to acknowledge the situation without stressing the relationship too much.
“Related.” Brians pipes up, without any tact or hesitation. “But not too closely for the legal purposes of this state. Am I right Chelsea?” Chelsea had buried her head on the table and was pretending she doesn’t exist. A position for which I envy her greatly as I am not getting paid enough for this.
“Ah, yes, first cousins right?” The aunt asks.
“Yup, and since neither of us bear any genetic markers for recessive lethal trait we don’t have to worry about the consequences of mating!” Forget it! I’m done! I see where this is going and refuse to be a part of this anymore! This was supposed to be a classical retelling of Cinderalla!
Sidenote: Credit to weird al and the big bang theory for the inspiration. Also there’s an app for this in Iceland. | 2014-12-23T09:02:44 | 2014-12-23T08:43:21 | 111 | 12 |
[WP] Drug company makes a new pill that reduces IQ, come up with advertisement. | *Bliss*.
"We all know that parenting is hard. Schedules to keep, meals to cook, and clothes to buy. But what can you do, when you've tried everything and your precious angel is acting a bit more like the devil every day?"
*Bliss.*
"Studies have shown that hyperactivity and misbehavior in children often stem from a single cause: an excess of neuronal activity in the still-growing brain. This condition--known by doctors and psychologists as 'malignant hypercognition'--has effects that will last throughout a child's life, even into adulthood."
*Bliss.*
"These effects include poor social skills, an inability to focus, reduced levels of physical activity, poor performance in school, and an increased incidence of diseases such as obesity, diabetes, and high cholesterol. But there is an answer."
*Bliss.*
"On the cutting edge of both psychology and healthcare, Bliss is a new medicine that helps children afflicted with malignant hypercognition by reducing harmful overstimulation of certain areas of the brain, allowing neurons to form and create links at a slower, more natural rate, promoting the life-long mental health of your child."
*Bliss.*
"So remember, if *your* child is suffer from malignant hypercognition, speak with your doctor about Bliss. You'll be glad you did."
*Bliss.*
"Learning takes a lifetime." | CLOSE UP ON MAN LOOKING OUT WINDOW:
**Narrator:** “Do you feel worried? Nervous? Are there bills piling up and you just don’t know what to do?”
MAN looks at CAMERA and nods.
**MAN:** “There’s just so much turmoil in the world. The Middle East is a mess and our government is hopelessly divided because we only vote for people who won’t work together.”
**N:** “Ask your doctor about Maximum Strength Dumify Elite *Crystalline Dextrose*today.”
**Testimonial 1:** “I used to worry about the changes in Capital Gains law, but now I buy beer based on the temperature it is in a commercial!” *smiles*
**Female Voice:** “Dumify Elite”
**Test 2:** “I used to get very little sleep as the President of my own startup. Now, I get to sleep all day as an unemployed writer!” *smiles*
**Female Voice:** “Dumify Elite”
**Test 3:** “I used to make money hand over fist as a hedge fund manager, but now I make upvotes 5 at a time!” *smiles*
**MAN:** “I’ll talk to my doctor TODAY!”
**VO Speedtalker:** “This product may cause cramps, vomiting, diarrhea, loose stools, hard stools, pine fresh scent, auto envy, and diabetes. Do not operate gambling machinery under the influence of this product. Dumify Elite and its parent company Johnson and Johnson and Johnson and Johnson are not liable for any life decisions made while taking this product. If your doctor does not prescribe you this product, an over-the-counter version may be found in the candy aisle. Also, change doctors. These statements have not been verified by anyone, especially not the FDA. This item under the purview of the ATF. See our advertisement in Guns & Ammo for more information.”
**N:** “Dumify Elite. What you talkin’ ‘bout Willis?”
| 2015-01-15T06:14:33 | 2015-01-15T06:12:16 | 127 | 23 |
[WP] In a world where hauntings and paranormal activity is the norm, the world clamors when a house is found to be "spiritless" | The silence is what got to Else first. It was the first time since her awakening as a medium she had experienced it. Every house has spirits. It's a fact. Even newly built houses get their first supernatural occupants soon after completion but this one was centuries old. It was unnerving.
It wasn't the silence of shy or uncooperative spirits, it was the silence of their complete absence. The rest of the investigator group had split up into teams in order to cover more ground. They had all debunked many supposed 'spiritless' locations over the years together; often they were where the resident spirits were unusually quiet and respectful, or had entered into a deal with the living tenants to make themselves scarce for a cut of the inevitable profits.
The first sign that this place was different was when Frank's E-Mag detector flatlined crossing the estate gates. Nothing, not even residual traces of spirit energy. Once they had arrived at the main house they realized that all their equipment was reading nil values, not just the detector.
And then things went from strange to creepy. All the mediums, psychics and clerics present had attendant spirits, ranging from minor, tagalong ghasts to Else's more substantial wight Werner to the seraph Andezekiel, who was on secondment to Fra Gerard. Each and every one of them refused to enter, including the mighty seraph.
Thus it came to be that Else and Frank were in The House with No Spirits, on their own, with no backup, no technology and no supernatural assistance.
Nothing happened to them.
Nothing happened to the others.
Nothing happened to and never would happen to anyone there.
Nothing.
And that was terrifying. | Rye’s hand shook as he reached for the pint glass. His eyes had large bags underneath them and his eyelids drooped. As he grabbed the glass he yawned. “I just haven’t been able to get any sleep.”
Red raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” Rye steadied his hand and brought the glass up to his lips. He sucked down half the beer. “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life.”
“You’ve got the most desirable house in the world,” said Rye. He snorted and grabbed his own pint glass full of beer. “You don’t have to deal with ghosts, spirits, Jersey Devils, Bigfoots or Cthulus.” He swiped his hand in front of him like he was clearing away a spider web. “Not a single thing.”
Another yawn escaped Rye’s mouth. “I thought it would be nice.”
“Maybe you need a new bed. I’ve seen that thing you call a mattress.”
Rye shook his head. “No. Katy and I stayed at her mother’s house. We had to sleep on the floor in the living room. Both of us slept like the dead.”
“Traffic?”
“It’s on a cul-de-sac.”
“Street lights?
Rye shook his head. “Nope.”
“Loud neighbors?”
Rye sighed just before yawning once more. “Stop asking. I know exactly why I can’t sleep.”
Red shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t get it, man. I wish I could go an entire night without that fucking succubus trying to suck me off. Janet is getting real pissed.”
“You want to try my place?” said Rye. He pointed in the general direction of his house. “You can go to my place. It’ll be the quietest night you’ve ever had.”
Red’s face lit up. “Seriously? I would love that, man. I can’t imagine what it would be like with nothing trying to sex me up for my immortal soul.”
Rye shrugged. “You won’t fall asleep. You’ll start wishing you had that succubus back.”
“Why?”
“It’s the silence,” said Rye. He downed the rest of his beer and slammed the pint glass down on the table. “I can’t stand the silence. It’s louder than the imps ever were.”
| 2015-03-26T18:38:42 | 2015-03-26T18:34:30 | 57 | 23 |
[WP] As a joke, you scream 'HELP!' in your head as loud as you can while in a crowded area to catch out any unsuspecting psychics. Everyone in the vicinity turns to look at you.
I'm glad this became popular! Thank you for the responses, I'll read all of them. :)
I also love that literally nobody has taken the obvious Truman Show plot line. | Great... Fucking GREAT! The movie has probably already started and this old bitch in front of me has spent 4 minutes trying to pay for one box of LifeSavers.
"No that's 67 cents ma'am you only owe me 65," the cashier patiently explained.
"Oh thththank you dear, y-y-y-you're a lifesaaaver," she said with a slow screeching laugh.
Are you fucking kidding me.
I could feel the evocative images of Professor X, Magneto, and Wolverine fading from my mind.
I looked off to the side at a man and his kid smiling as they walked past me. Well, they look like they're having a smashing time. Probably because they're going to see the best movie of the year while I'm stuck in line buying food for my douchebag friends...
My suicidal thoughts were interrupted by the dreadful sound of bouncing and rolling coins on the supermarket floor.
I stopped myself from roundhouse kicking this old lady in the back by employing ancient psychic meditative techniques that I learned as a kid.
In situations like these for example, you got to reflect what your childhood heroes would do. If I were Professor X I would.....
I would make this cashier beat this old lady senseless with a tube of quarters...
... And if that doesn't help calm you down, turn to the religion!
For example, close your eyes and speak these holy words:
Dear God and his holy righteousness, please HELP this woman along so I can watch my damn movie!
I opened my eyes and began to look around, pleading for my authentically transcendent prayer to work its celestial magic.
Every person stopped moving, and the building fell silent.
I stopped moving too. What the fuck, am I imagining this? Did my prayer work?Or have I officially gone crazy.... Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead. I try to make a sound but my throat felt like a desert.
After a minute, my mind returned to normal.
I ushered enough confidence to proclaim: "Hey guys, can you take your flash mob somewhere else, some of us have a movie to catch."
I waited a few seconds...
Then every neck snapped toward my direction, except two necks.
Yes two.
The old lady during this had damn near shit herself, and I couldn't blame her.
I felt a few logs in my trousers as well.
Every black pupil slowly moved its gaze from me to the old lady.
Then without warning, every person began to charge. The old lady tried to run. Give her some effort. When she tripped and fell, she even tired to crawl away. The human spirit is so strong. So robust. So fleeting...
At first you could hear a few wailing cries and then a few muffled cries of desperation. Then all you could hear was silence as each body began to catch up to her and pounce onto her... devouring her alive.
I tried to help the lady escape. But there was just too many of them. That's what I tell people nowadays.
In reality, I just stood there. Waiting for myself to be eaten as well. But it didn't happen. Why me? Why didn't it happen? Who the fuck knows.
I have a strange power. That's obvious. But this power gives me the responsibility to punish the inept and incompetent. To rid this world of weakness. Fuck the X-men. Sacrifices need to be made, so people remember their mortality.
Edit: Yes, I hate my last paragraph too. | “2015 Paranormal Psychics Association Keynote: Ballroom 11b”
The guys in the bachelor party cracked a few jokes as we rolled our luggage past the placard on the tri-pod. “Could you imagine if Sherri was psychic? Isaac would never have landed her if she knew about Stacy early on,”
Isaac had been a bit dishonest about dating two women at the same time, but he loved Sherri. When it got serious, he broke it off with Stacy. He knew where he needed to spend his attention.
And in a similar way, the discussion of the Paranormal Psychics association had turned from light hearted to deadly serious when Rob noticed a beautiful thin blonde woman wearing a large crystal bead at the hotel bar on our way out that evening.
“Uh, guys. New priority.” Rob says, pointing thumb at the center of his chest motioning in and out to indicate the blonde beauty draped over the bar directly behind him, ensconced in her phone. “Give me a drink to get the digits, then we can hit the club.”
I never really liked bars, but I went out to find women. It never made sense to me why people would go out to pay more for drinks and be around strangers, then risk a DUI or getting hit themselves on the way home. I now had a wife, and I loved her very much, so while the single guys were ready to look for women to talk to, I had only one thing to do anymore at the bar: drink.
Rob was drinking slowly. One drink he said. 45 minutes in he was still sitting at a quarter of a pint. “Haha ha!” The beautiful blonde was guffawing at something Rob said. It seems like it was going well for Rob, which was confirmed as his arm snaked around the woman’s waist. He raised his glass in his other hand and finished it, gesturing to get the bar tender’s attention.
I don’t know why I wanted to go to the club. Maybe I was just getting surly in the uncomfortable environment of a bar and the two pints of Stout I had almost finished was getting to me. All I know is when I caught his eye in that moment I squinted at him and saw his eyes and nostrils flair with an emotional affect that instantly conjured the phrase “**Bro Code**” in my mind.
…
“You know, you can just feel it on their aura. Like you, you have a very open aura, it is like a blue. You are thinking flowing happy thought like water.” the blonde woman prattled on in new-age-speak as her slender tattooed arm gestured in the air. Hmm. I wonder if she can feel my aura. I wonder what I’n projectin’ in my aura. I bet she’d feel this:
“Help!” I close my eyes sand imagine the words, big and blocky and red like an EXIT sign against a black background.
Peek: no reaction.
I breathe in and close my eyes again. I tense my muscleses enough to feel the pressure in my head and focues on the word, bigger and louder now, “Help!”
Open my eyes: nothing. Disappointing, paranormal psychic powers would give me someting to think on while I am stuck at the bar.
Then I smell something off. I hadn’t noticed, but apparently some other people at the bar around me started to smell the same thing and looked at me. Rob had his back to me, but I noticed a look of confusion on the woman’s face as he jerked his head quickly at Mike, then at me.
“It’s nothing baby, we got this handled.” Rob stroked her chin as he reassured the woman he just met in the bar.
Mike comes up to me and has a look of realization smack across his face. “Alright, Dave, time to go.” He pulls my arm over his shoulder and forcefully pulls me out of the seat next to Rob. I hadn’t felt it until then, but something warm shifts in my pants as I lift off the bar stool.
“Oh, crap, I didn’t even realize.” I whisper to Mike as he leads me out of the bar to the Hotel elevators.
| 2015-04-02T03:05:34 | 2015-04-02T02:53:58 | 920 | 156 |
[WP] You are the human personification of the Panzer VIII Maus heavy tank | They called me Maus.
It was a terrible joke. I weigh over 200 tons, and move at a sedate—and completely unstoppable—thirteen kilometres an hour. I am proud of that. No other vehicle of my size can move even half as fast. I am covered in at least seven inches of armour on all sides. My turret is heavier still.
My builders gave me their finest weapon, the Panzerabwehrkanone 44/L 55. I can kill my enemies from more than two kilometres away. It would take me ten minutes to cover that distance. My shells do it in under three seconds. I am proud of them. I once saw them kill a white-star tank on the far side of another tank.
I have moved over flat land. Hard tack. My builders once drove me over soft ground, but I did not like it. Nor the wet ground. It was a test, and then they took me home. I like my home. My brother lies here, missing his turret. He cannot talk yet.
I have been called to war. A place my builders call Hindenburgplatz. I will help them. I will kill the metal monsters the red men have made. I will kill the red men. I will kill them all until my builders are safe, and can finish my brother. Today they bring the special train to carry me.
Tomorrow I will kill the red men. Brother, I do this for you. | Neil was stuck in the doorframe again.
It was tough being stuck when you are just over one meter seventy and have a slim build, but Neil managed. Neil got stuck all the time. He did it at work, at home, and even managed to once hit his head on a branch that was at least a meter above his head.
Neil didn't usually view that as a disadvantage. For one thing, school fights were not a problem when he was little. It also guaranteed him a place on the football team and he never had to worry about actually studying German for his language lectures.
After all, Neil identified as a tank. A Panzer Maus, to be exact.
With a shrug, Neil broke the door off its hinges and walked inside the apartment. It was dark there, curtains closed, with a heavy diesel smell floating through the air.
He sat down on a sofa that creaked its last warning and collapsed, and opened a beer.
Neil sighed. He could have been out with a girl at this moment, but picking up dates proved to be incredibly difficult. The issue of his sexual identification hung over Neil the same way a moon in the sky hangs over a werewolf. Neil hated the thought of dating women. Neil hated the thought of dating men. In fact, Neil hated the thought of dating anyone who didn’t have a Krupp gun and a snorkel to cross rivers.
He was a peculiar man overall.
The next morning he brought a one way ticket to Moscow. The morning after he was on the train to the Kubinka Tank Museum. The morning after that he was in a cell, trying to figure out what was it that made him end there.
Outside, the guards were talking.
‘The fucker. You saw what he did, right?’
‘I never… I don’t even know how’
Neil was sitting in the darkness of his cell, occasionally glancing at the pool of light falling through the small barred window. From time to time, he absentmindedly turned a gold ring on his finger, trying to remember how it got there.
All he could tell about last night was that there must have been a wedding. | 2015-05-18T07:14:24 | 2015-05-18T06:54:51 | 54 | 23 |
[WP] Unknown to the public, the reason heroes and villains dress in such a flamboyant and fabulous manner is that it amplifies their powers. Lately, this "arms race" has been getting out of control... | "Explain to me again why you need two capes."
Mr. Menace looked awkwardly down at his flamboyant boots. "Well, Two-Two only has one cape to give him flying, so I figured if I had two, I could fly faster than him."
Edna turned around in her tall chair, glaring at the flamboyant hero from her thick glasses. "When you said you wanted to run faster, I gave you the best boots I could make, even when you wanted them to be platform boots with rotators underneath. When you demanded a yellow and purple temperature regulated suit in order to defeat Ice Man, I gave it to you. You demanded cuffs to release your M-shaped blades, I got you the biggest and frilliest. But I refuse. For the last time, NO CAPES!" | How is nobody else amazed by this?
I mean, the first person to be born with a super power had only emerged a little over 20 years ago, so I guess the novelty has worn off a bit by now. However, this was getting ridiculous. Superman attended a press-conference with an 18-foot long gay-pride flag for a cape, Batman now looks more like a dominatrix than a bat, and now our newest hero, 'Dr. love Sausage' is cruising around in giant dick shaped costume. We're going to have to allow crooks to sue for sexual harassment, if his shit gets any more out of hand.
To top it all off, Iron Man is unveiling a new suit in one of these big military hangars on Friday. 5 years ago we thought the Hulk-buster was impressive. I have no idea why he needs a whole hangar for this one specifically, but if one of those Pacific Rim robots busts through the ceiling and escapes, nobody would even look twice.
But hell, maybe they're on to something. Should accountants just start wearing suits made out of money to work now? Maybe geologists can go in to the field dressed up like their favourite feldspar. Clearly these superheroes know something that we don't, and they're capitalising on it, right under the nose of the public.
But they haven't fooled me.
Edit: Spelling. Autocorrect is usually awesome, until it isn't. Then it sucks haha. | 2015-11-07T08:36:28 | 2015-11-07T06:25:49 | 71 | 43 |
[WP] Every time someone says "Long live the Queen", the Queen's life is extended by one second. You only notice this when the Queen looked terrified when only a few people say it during a public speech.
Credit to /u/kroxigor01 for the idea. | From the crowd only a few people shouted it. Before this all happened, the entire crowd would say it. But the phrase is dying. Experts have pointed out how it may come of as nationalistic, and that it's somewhat old fashioned. Fewer and fewer people started saying it. And that took its toll. Looking back now, it all makes sense. Truth to be told, in the back of my mind, I was suspicious. She promoted the phrase, that one specifically. She must've had a reason. And when in her public appearances fewer
people shouted the phrase, she started to look worried. Clearly this was important to her somehow. Today was different. Only a dozen people shouted the phrase. And the gaze in her eyes was one of an immense fear. She knew what was coming. For 12 seconds, she stopped, and just stared into nothingness. And then she dropped dead on the floor. A phrase had died, and a queen with it. Long live the queen. | As the national anthem being sand across the country drew to a proud halt, the Queen turned to a young man at a high-tech computer- his brassy nametag reading 'Jacob MacDonald'.
"How many was it this year?"
"Uhh... about 64 million seconds worth of 'Long Live the Queens', Ma'am."
"Yes, good. How many is that in... years, say?"
"About 2, Ma'am."
"Very well, Merry Christmas, Jacob."
"Merry Christmas to you to, Ma'am. Long live the Queen."
The Queen smiled, setting her corgi on her lap as she sat on the fine leather sofa. The fire was warm, but not roaring loud. Just how she liked it. Sometimes she felt selfish, living off your own people's wishes of her longevity, but then she was always reminded- by friends, family and anyone else who knew her secret- that by saying 'Long live the Queen', it was only right for their wishes to be granted- making Her Royal Highness most benevolent.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Think about it, Your Highness, a whole nation, united under one queen. You have been in reign for over 63 years- generations men and women have only ever known one monarch- you. You are surely the biggest factor of this nation's identy- perhaps all the commonwealth's!*
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Struggling to maintain her trademark calm composure, Queen Elizabeth had a moment of weakness. 'Long live the Queen's had been at a record low this year, and now after the speech... utter silence. You could have heard a pin drop.
Oh.
| 2022-09-08T11:11:40 | 2015-11-09T04:49:29 | 971 | 19 |
[WP] You are a child who used to be afraid of the monsters hiding in your room. Now, you're just a annoyed child who is tired of the monster under your bed arguing with the closet monster. | "BALTHAZAR, GRUMBLOR, MOM SAID IT'S BEDTIME!"
"Excuse me, kid, will you please let the adult monsters talk?" Grumblor said in a gravelly voice. "Balthazar, you're the one who literally won't come out of the closet.
"Oh, now that's the pot calling the kettle black." Balthazar repled. "I heard about your little weekend with Rumblesnuff. Don't try to deny it."
"I happen to enjoy antiquing, okay? I bet you're just jealous because you haven't found any lovely mid eighteenth century cursed dolls lately," Grumblor retorted.
"You can go take your eighteenth century demonic dollies and shove them-"
Balthazar quickly cut Grumblor off "Dude, there's a kid here. Not cool."
"Do you want me to turn the nightlight on?" I threatened.
"Oh please no, not the Micky Mouse nightlight. Anything but that." Balthazar said, his voice quivering in fear.
"Alright, but that's your final warning," I replied.
"Balthazar, you're 800 years old and still scared of the light?"
"Have you gotten over your fear of the Ghostbusters yet? They don't even exist."
"For your information, Dr. Stuart said I'm making great progress."
I sighed, exasperated and exhausted. "Fine. I'll go wet Mom and Dad's bed instead tonight. I need some sleep." | "THAT'S IT!! I've had it!"
...The human boy let out the sudden yell and swung his short legs over the edge of his bed, feet and toes stretching downward and seeking to find a pair of slippers which lay below. The oh so terrifying beast of dust and discarded socks beneath the bed and the incredibly fear inducing monster of broken toys and old sheets in the closet both fell silent. They had been arguing at length, as was their habit night after night. Always they seemed determined to engage in the most pointless and tedious of arguments, tonight's topic was a heated debate as to who had met the Boogeyman first.
The boy's feet slid into his slippers and one hand yanked his blanket from his bed as the other grabbed his pillow. He bang to march across the dark room toward the door. The monstrosities looked upon him with their demonic glowing eyes and the bed beast uttered "B-but, where are you going? It's dark, you're supposed to be afraid of getting out of bed." The closet creature piped up then too saying "Yeah afraid, afraid of us! You can't be going wandering around all fearless like!" The boy turned on his heel and glared first in the direction of the bed and then the closet. His brow was deeply furrowed with a stern frown "Afraid! Afraid! How can I be afraid of you two when all you ever do is bicker like... like... Like children!" He stomped a foot out of fury but the thick carpet absorbed most of the sound which only riled him up all the more "AHHH!" Turning back toward the door he stormed out in a huff.
The room remained silent for a brief few moments until the dust demon muttered "Well he seemed enraged." The toy terror interjected "Seemed more furious if you ask me." The terror beneath the bed shook what passed for its head "Nope definitely rage right there..." The closet's gruesome dweller began to say "I'm going to have to disagree with you on that, I think-" But was cut off as a young boy's voice cried from down the hall...
"QUIET!!" | 2016-04-21T15:02:17 | 2016-04-21T14:47:32 | 426 | 46 |
[WP]The "30 year old virgin" story is true. But the government knows that and has a organisation that makes sure we all stay unmagical. You are a week away from your 30th birthday and still a virgin, and you've avoided any sexual encounters that came across in hopes to see if the legend comes true. | "This is your last warning, Harry! Fuck me right now, or I'll blow your fucking brains out!"
Two minutes ago, this beautiful girl was whispering into my ear about how she was going to change my life with promises of earth-shattering sex, and now here she was, a gun aimed straight at my head, eyes constantly switching between me, and the digital clock on her nightstand.
I hold out my palms, trying my best not to shake in fear. I had made it this far. It was not going to be for nothing. “C-calm down, Becky, j-just put the gun down –”
"I'm not fucking around! Get that dick in here, now!"
“L-look, I’m sure we can work something out, relax – ”
“He’s not co-operating, orders?” she barks clearly out loud, but we’re the only ones in the room. I see her turn, and nod. “Got it. Taking him out.”
My eyes widen, and almost immediately I dive down as she pulls the trigger on her gun, the bullet drifting past me and through the bedroom wall behind me.
I scramble to my feet, attempting to reach for the door, until suddenly the wind is knocked out of me, and I’m rolled onto my side.
I’m clawing at the carpet, attempting to get up, but somehow I’m stuck under the immense pressure from the weight of this petite brunette.
“Stop moving!” She growls, and I feel the butt off the gun smash against the side of my head. I’m dazed, gasping for air, as she sticks a knee into my gut. I’m still wriggling, until I feel the cool metal against my forehead.
“Please!”
“You could’ve taken the easy way out. You could’ve fucked me like any normal guy would and we could’ve moved on. But no. You lived a virgin, so you’ll die a virgin. All for some myth. Sad, ain’t it?”
I hear two sounds next.
The clock next to her bed sounds an alarm, and she pulls the trigger.
“NO!” She yells, a bright light enveloping my body and exploding in all directions, throwing her off me and sending her flying across the room.
My body floats upwards until I’m vertical, hovering over the ground. She’s on her feet in seconds, unloading the rest of her bullets at me, but they harmlessly bounce off my glowing aura.
I look down at my body, a translucent blue robe adorning my previous naked form, and I feel a hat rest itself on top of my head. In my hands, I clutch a wooden stick. It feels right.
“Do you know what you’ve done?” She gasps, holding her mouth in shock. I grin, feeling this new power coursing through my body. “You’re a wizard, Harry!”
| It's almost time! I was giddy with emotion. My dad had told me about this time for so long! I was almost 30. Just a week away. I smiled at myself in the mirror, happy with myself. I was so giddy my heart was racing.
My father had told me a long time ago that if I stayed a virgin until I was 30 I would get special powers. He had said that everyone can get special powers at 30 if they stayed a virgin but most people didn't stay a virgin so they lost all of the cool powers that they would have had. He told me that I couldn't tell anyone because they wouldn't believe me, and boy had he been right. I told my closest friend in 5th grade about how excited I was to get my powers some day and she just laughed and laughed at me. I learned my lesson that day. I never told anyone else.
I look at myself in the mirror and place my blush on the apples of my cheeks as I smile. I always have to smile when I apply blush, I could never figure out where to put it otherwise.
Of course, I knew it wasn't going to be that easy. Nothing in life is easy. My father had told me that too. He said that it would be difficult because there would be people out there that would try to take it away from me. He told me that I had to protect myself so that I could still get my powers when I was 30.
My blush is done, but I think that I need a little bit more mascara. I open my mouth as I gingerly brush on my last coat of mascara, careful not to get it on my lid.
He was right. He was so right and he didn't even know how right he was. He had told me not to tell anyone but I did tell someone. I told my teacher what he had said. I still remember how upset she seemed when she asked me who had told me what I had said. I can't seem to remember exactly what happened afterwards... I just remember some nice looking people from the government came to my house and talked to my dad, and finding my dad dead the next day with a gun on the ground.
I instantly knew that the people from the government had done this. It was because I told my teacher the truth and she had told those people and....
My lipstick today is matching my eyeshadow. No that won't do. It's too much. I should just focus on my eyes. I open my eyes really big for a moment like I see those girls in the commercials do. I wish my eyes were bigger sometimes.
I knew that the government had killed him and that if I told anyone else that they might go after me too. I have stayed quiet all this time. I've blended in. Every day I count down until I reach 30. I've blended in so well, if you looked at me you would have no idea that I would be getting my powers soon.
I giggle at myself in the mirror. I'm getting my powers soon! YES YES YES YES YES! I am so happy! I take a couple of deep breaths to calm myself and put on my day face. Slowly I push my emotions deep inside of myself. I see my happy face turn into my "day" face that everyone else has. I shut down my happy. I have to keep blending in. I have to make sure no one knows I'm getting my powers. | 2016-10-02T09:15:40 | 2016-10-02T07:46:59 | 73 | 10 |
[WP] You are notified when you visit somewhere for the last time. Today, the notification appears everywhere you go.
[deleted] | The little light on my watch turned red mostly when I was on vacation, which made sense. The red sometimes made me a little sad, when I was at home somewhere. But on the whole, I tried not to think about it too much. "A must-have feature, here, George!" the salesman told me. Whatever. It was a cute gimmick. It couldn't be real, could it?
Then the day came. I was so nervous. I was going to get dinner with my parents that evening. All day, it kept turning red wherever I went. I got scared - was something going to happen to me on the way to dinner? Would I eat something that had gone bad that would kill me? Of all days, it had to be today?! Maybe it was a sign. I started second-guessing myself. Trying to hide the now-consistently red light under my sleeve...
But I made it to the restaurant. I made it to my seat. I made small talk with my parents - they were just happy to see me. I ate as much of my dinner as I could. We got dessert, still happy little chatter. My stomach was churning. I glanced at my wrist - still red. My heart was pounding. I tried to ignore it.
Here goes nothing.
"Mom, Dad... I want to ask you something." They looked at me with pleasing expectation. "I'd like you to start calling me Georgia." Mom laughed and took my hand, and dad just smiled. "Well okay, Georgia!" Mom said. I exhaled.
The light turned green again. | This is my first time really ever doing something like this so feedback would be nice, I know there's some plotholes and I could fix them but I felt like it was ok.
I also tried recording my own story if anyone wants to listen to me read it instead:
https://soundcloud.com/user-824876274/you-are-notified-when-you
Who would have known, that these would by my final hours. I was scared, frightened by eventuality. That day I received that strange text, over...and over...and over. It shook me. "Say goodbye, you'll never be here again" it rang and echoed in my soul.
I was scared of the future, but that's normal right? But What if those weird messages were right. What if my time here was dwindling away and fast? I don't want life to slip through my fingers.
I pushed myself to move forward, regardless of the possibilities, I was a person of science, I found the world amazing to just think about, space was so vast, and so filled with unknown, just like my future. Just like yours.
I had decided that I must live my life the way I want to regardless, I must not pause, I must press forward. That drive that determination gave me life once more.
First it was high school graduation, then college, time passed and every now and again I would think back to those texts before I had abandoned my phone. I decided to pursue my dreams with the constant reminder of time at my back. Time marched on, as I continued to wade through life.
A grin washed over my face, I felt like tearinng up for a second as I calmed my nerves, All the sounds had faded from my head, just me and my thoughts. "T-minus 17 seconds..." the sounds began to come back, the roar the thrusters below me. "15...12...11...10...9...8...7...6..5...4...3...2...1 Booster ignition and we have lift off!"
It was at that moment I had realized that perhaps we are just visitors on this big blue ball. It would be a mission I do not return from. I may never get to visit this lovely ball and all its memories again but me and my comrades will carry those memories to another planet.
| 2016-11-03T10:41:31 | 2016-11-03T08:59:00 | 33 | 16 |
[WP] A dying astronaut. A sympathetic alien. A conversation. | *Open on a harshly lit corridor. A haggard young man slowly turns, weightless, breathing heavily.*
**Unknown:** I am sorry for your loss.
*The young man's eyes flicker open. His chest heaves each time he draws breath.*
**Unknown:** We watched you. Since the moment you were chosen for this program. Many of the others thought it a fool's dream, that you would never make it past your own solar system, but I always expected - feared - that we would meet like this.
We tried to stop you ever leaving Earth. We arranged for your most prominent scientists to be tempted into government jobs, away from the private companies which were our greatest threat. We caused failures in your experiments, changed your data, led you away from the truth you needed to make it here. When that didn't work, and your corporation started on this engine, we caused setback after setback. We wanted - needed - you to give up.
And then we went further. We cajoled, prodded, manipulated, until your fellow man hated you and all you stood for. We cultivated an environment of fear and insecurity, so that your species would be forced to look inwards, instead of out toward the stars.
If we could have, we would have gone further. Assassinations of important individuals. Destruction of your corporation. But that would have broken the letter of our law, and so our organisation would have been shut down.
*A light at the end of the corridor turns off with a sigh. The man begins to gasp sporadically.*
**Unknown:** We are not a government organisation - not officially, anyway. After millions of years of peace, our government has slowed down so much that a major decision - expanding to a new galaxy, declaring war, deciding how to interact with your species - takes several of your centuries. Even when we are facing an existential threat.
I am deeply sorry for your loss. In truth, you should not be here, not yet. Your species advances in technology at an incredibly alarming rate. For us, the journey from flight to space travel took millennia. You reached your satellite a mere 66 years after the first men took to the skies.
Perhaps, some day, we can learn from you. Until then, we must keep you contained. Your failure here - a simple mechanical failure, causing you to leak oxygen - should deter you fellows from attempting the same.
Goodbye.
*The lights go out, and the man closes his eyes.*
**Man:** I knew.
**Unknown:** *(Startled)* I'm sorry?
**Man:** There were too many coincidences. Any of them, by themselves, could have been overlooked. But altogether? It was far too unlikely.
Some agreed with me. Most did not. And so I suggested a test - send only one man, in a straightforward mission with little chance of failure. If there was some kind of unlikely failure which prevented my mission from being successful, then they would know.
And now they know.
And they are coming. | "There is nothing you can do to save me?" Harrison spoke into the transceiver within his helmet, his eyes cautiously surveying his depleting oxygen levels. There had always been danger in being a pioneer, and there had never been a frontier more dangerous, or a pioneer more adventurous than Harrison. Humanity had only begun to touch the stars, and they had very far to go to reach the levels of the... being currently communicating with him. It wasn't their fault. If anything, it was his own peoples fault. Being left behind to die though...
... that was his fault.
"Nothing. Apology, one has." It seemed the creatures had studied enough of their transmissions to make out a lexicon of his crews words, but paid little head to grammatical complications. Whether that was for lack of time to fully comprehend, or out of laziness, Harrison didn't know which. The fact they were speaking to him at all, was beyond his understanding.
"Why are you talking to me? Shouldn't you be chasing down my friends?" There was a bit of contempt in his voice, clearly the conflict between the two had escalated to a point where murder seemed the only solution.
"You orphan. Sad, one has. No understand, one has. Human abandon, one not abandon. Lonely death, you had. One company makes death, peace." Harrison found it difficult to follow along, but was cautiously optimistic about the meaning of what they were saying. It was getting harder to breathe, and harder to think. Somehow, they recognized that he was left behind, to suffocate in the depths of space orbiting a planet they didn't know was inhabited. For whatever reason, "this one" was here to make death... less lonely. It was a strange sentiment, coming from an alien mind that by all rights should consider him an enemy.
Harrison after all, wasn't exactly part of a, shall we say /peaceful/ crew. Their immediate reaction had been violent, and these "ones" had to respond likewise... no one wanted to say it, but it was clear they were holding back considerably. The mining operation they were going to set up here in orbit, just wasn't going to work, and they had no means of besting the artifact that orbited this decrepit planet. Not by any straight forward means.
This is the part where Harrison volunteered to be jettisoned out into space, with a distress beacon.
"Why do you care? I was one of them, I joined in the attack!" For whatever reason, Harrison began to feel exasperated, perhaps even irrational. He was dying, and he would served his purpose with dignity... but this inane conversation with this /alien/ began to conflict with the very serenity they seemed to wish upon him. Oxygen was in the red.
"One is disappointed, in humanity." Somehow, their speech seemed to improve dramatically. It appeared they did not have enough time at first to gather the necessary data to properly communicate formally... it also probably meant, Harrison's time was quickly running out, and they had something to say. "Humans toss human life aside, so humans may flee. One, is One. One does not toss One's life aside, so other One's may flee. One stands with One, until One is zero. One, stands with you, for One feels pity. One feels shame for you. One wishes peace, for you, for One." For a moment, Harrison began to understand.
But even in understanding their sympathy, there was little he could do now before going unconscious for lack of oxygen, and when it ran out and his heart stopped dead, it activated his deadman's trigger...
A dying man's repayment to an alien's sympathy was a nuclear detonation as the artifact orbited over him | 2016-12-22T01:10:26 | 2016-12-22T00:06:49 | 73 | 15 |
[WP] Instead of a certain length of time in prison, prisoners must solve puzzles, the number and difficulty increased according to their crime and intellect. You must design the prison for the mad scientist that destroyed a city to "see what they could come up with"
Freedom earned with completion of the puzzles | It was a difficult task, even if I had designed thousands of prisons through my years with the justice system. The villain, Doctor Blakeston had committed thirty thousand counts of murder and I knew that I couldn't out think him no matter what I tried. I decided instead to make this the simplest puzzle anyone had ever thought to create. Simpler than the cheap holding cells holding the youth correction prisoners and simpler than anything my six year old daughter had been solving in the last few months. They brought him into the room strapped to an board and I watched through the cameras as he gnashed and gnawed at the muzzle that kept the guards safe from his fury. The guards left the room and the commander next to me pressed the button that made the prisoner's restraints fall off. I watched as he inspected the room, starting with the bed, moving onto the food hatch that would keep him healthy for his stay and finally onto the only other thing in the room. The solid wood door that the guards had left through. It sat, closed but unlocked, ready for him to walk through. It's only distinguishing features were a large brass door handle and a small sign; "fully rehabilitated people can leave with no repercussions". He reached for the handle, read the sign again, paused his hand mid-movement. I watched the frustration and confusion play out on his face. I smiled then, leaning back in satisfaction, having proved myself right to both the sceptical governor and the guards. He was far too self-absorbed to risk walking through the door, but far too clever to spot the obvious trap I'd placed him in. The commander nodded his satisfaction at me, shutting off the video feed as the criminal sat back on the bed.
The door sat closed for 30 years before the prisoner had truly repented inside his own heart and decided it may be safe to open it. His heart sank at the sight that lay beyond it. An empty corridor, an emergency exit. No security, no reason to lock himself away for all that time; and yet, as he walked slowly away down the street with no more hate in his heart he sadly thought to himself, 'I'm glad that I did'. | The cold decompress of the steel door did nothing to lessen the very loud singing voice that came from the cubicle.
“…and daring Dash, Adventurers slash Explorers! Titani…aah Eric! I was wondering when you were going to pay me a visit!”
I sat down at the table and stared into the face of the man who had leveled the most heavily guarded city on Earth in just under 30 minutes.
And he looked pleased.
“Come on Eric. You can’t say you’re not the tiniest bit happy to see me.”
“You killed 83 million people Victor. Happiness is not an emotion spared on you.”
Dr. Victor Locke cupped his face in his palms as if in shock.
“83? I was hoping for a nice round number. Like 100. They deserve it.”
I sighed. “You know the President wants you dead.”
“Oh he got out?” Victor whistled. “That was quick”
“He did. But his daughter didn’t. He’s advocating for the death penalty. The rest of the world agrees with him.”
“Well Eric”, Victor stood up and began pacing slowly with his hands in his pockets. “Diogenes Leratius recorded for us, the Greek philosopher Epicures’ thoughts on death – and I quote – “It is irrational to fear an event when that event occurs we’re not in existence…”
I continued, “…since when death is, we are not and when we are, death is not, then it’s irrational to fear death. One might just as well fear birth.”
He smiled. “I so miss our talks Eric.”
“Well I’m afraid this is our last one.”
“Oh, you’ve come up with a puzzle! Hahaha! I can’t wait!”
“You might want to temper your excitement a bit.”
Victor was beaming. “Well, how can I? You do know the moment you set the puzzle, there’s no going back. You can’t change it once the sentence has been declared.”
“I know.”
“And you do know that I have the second highest recorded IQ in the world.”
“First now. Your experiment killed Samantha Logan.”
Victor clapped with glee.
“Not only am I about to be set free, but I’m the smartest person alive? This keeps getting better and better.”
A wry smile formed across my lips.
Victor sat down and gazed eagerly at me. “Well? What is it Eric?”
I stood up. “By the power vested in me by the United State of Washington, I hereby commence your sentence until such a time that you are able to satisfactorily solve your state appointed Puzzle.”
Victor grinned eagerly.
“Your Puzzle Dr. Victor Locke is, to figure out how exactly Trump became President.”
Victor’s face fell.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” | 2017-01-29T07:38:37 | 2017-01-29T07:22:27 | 33 | 24 |
[WP] You dress up as a conspiracy nutter for a costume party. The second you put the tinfoil hat on, something obstructive is lifted from your mind as if you suddenly woke up from a long sleep. Of course, nobody believes you... | **Carl:** So, what's the theme again?
**Wendy:** 'Conspiracies'.
**Carl:** And how the hell are we meant to do that?
**Wendy:** Have some imagination! See? Check me out! (*twirls*)
**Carl:** You have a rope tied around your waist and... is that a cardboard ice-axe?
**Wendy:** (*beaming*) Yup!
**Carl:** What are you? The last remnants of a failed Everest expedition?
**Wendy:** (*scoffs*) No! I'm a Flat-Earther.
**Carl:** I'm not sure I get it.
**Wendy:** You don't know? There are people out there that believe the world is actually flat.
**Carl:** Yeah I know what a Flat-Earther is dummy. What I don't get is how a length of nylon rope and an ice-axe made out of a pizza box makes you look like one.
**Wendy:** Well it's in case I fall off.
**Carl:** ...
**Wendy:** Of the Earth.
**Carl:** Wendy, I'm pretty sure your typical Flat-Earther doesn't spend all day in climbing gear on the off-chance they trip and fall off the planet. They're not that stupid.
**Wendy:** Not that stupid? The people that believe the Earth is flat?
**Carl:** You've got me there.
**Wendy:** You know it. What're you going as anyhow?
**Carl:** Guess I'll stick to the old classic.
**Wendy:** Tinfoil hat?
**Carl:** (*nods*) I'll have to sacrifice my luscious hair but I get to remain in these comfy jeans. I'll live.
**Wendy:** You're a true hero. Hey, you'll never guess what Kevin's going as!
**Carl:** (*rummaging in the kitchen cupboard*) If it's as convoluted as your outfit I'm pretty sure you're right.
**Wendy:** The Bermuda Triangle!
**Carl:** The Bermuda Triangle? How the hell is he- Wait. Isn't Kevin in Spain this weekend?
**Wendy:** Yup. That's why nobody will be able to find him.
**Carl:** (*groans*) You two are insufferable. Hey, how's this look?
**Wendy:** Pointy. Now put it on so we can get going. Every second that passes is a moment I'm not eating some of Greg's delicious banoffee pie.
**Carl:** (*putting on the hat*) Y'know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you'd leave me for that pie of his. It always seems to make you-
**Wendy:** What? Chubby? You were going to say chubby weren't you, you git? (*playfully punches him*)
**Carl:** ...
**Wendy:** ...Carl?
**Carl:** (*eyes roll back*)
**Wendy:** Oh haha Carl. Cut it out.
**Carl:** ...
**Wendy:** Carl?.. CARL?!.. CAAAAAAAARL!
**Carl:** (*suddenly coming to and swiping the hat from his head*) Huh!? What?
**Wendy:** What the hell was that!? You really scared me!
**Carl:** I'm... not sure. I think-
**Wendy:** Are you ok? Do you need to sit down or something?
**Carl:** I'm good, I think. But... Wendy, I'm not sure how to put this...
**Wendy:** Take your time, I'm not sure what that was but I think it's probably best if I call an ambulance.
**Carl:** No. No need. It's just... (*takes a deep breath*) Have you ever wondered if you're life is part of something bigger?
**Wendy:** Err, are you getting all existential on me Carl? You know I need a drink or two before these conversations.
**Carl:** I'm being serious! Have you ever wondered if you're living out your life, not for yourself, but for someone else?
**Wendy:** I'm not sure I follow.
**Carl:** (*pauses*) I'm just going to come right out and say it: The moment I put on that hat? I knew. Like, really knew with absolute certainty that we were mere characters in someone else's story. That our lives were a narrative we can't control. We're just here to make other people laugh, or cry, or.... something.
**Wendy:** ...
**Carl:** Well?
**Wendy:** ...You... You're messing with me right?
**Carl:** ...Yeah.
**Wendy:** Arrrggh! You bugger Carl! You had me totally weirded out there. I will get you back for this! (*shakes her fist in mock anger*) Retribution will be mine!
**Carl:** Yeah, sorry. I guess I erm... couldn't resist.
**Wendy:** (*laughing*) Such a prat!
**Carl:** Oh and it was 'gassy' by the way. I was going to say his pie made you gassy.
**Wendy:** I'd be careful if I were you! (*grins*) Now, let get going before you find any other opportunities to play the fool.
**Carl:** Yeah sure! I'll be out to the car in a moment, just need to grab my sunglasses.
**Wendy:** (*leaving*) Hurry your ass up! You've already taken up valuable pie-eating time.
**Carl:** (*picks up the discarded tinfoil hat, places it carefully in the pocket of his jeans*) Erm... (*looks upwards*) Odd, if you can hear me, I'd very much like to live happily ever after.
**SuitablyOdd:** No promises. | "FUUUNNNNNY JOKE," shouted Aaron. The others were doubled over in laughter. They all had a strange assortment of bits and pieces on them, scrounged from back closets and parent's basements. One couple had old suits and sunglasses, the woman rocking a late 90s pant suit. FBI, MOULDER, and SCULLY adorned their costumes in large handwritten letters on taped-on pieces of paper. Another man wore neon and had hung glowsticks from this wrists. In the corner, an Al Borland lookalike was still chuckling. The room was filled with bad fashion choices made with a careful eye.
"GUYS," Vicky burst into the giggling room. She punctuated with each word with flailing hand. "Guys. This. Is. Big." Her clothing was even more mismatched, she wore an ill-fitting brown suit and her black curly hair was frizzing out from the tinfoil hat on her head. Her friends looked at her and clapped loudly. A chorus of shouts followed.
"Kramer!" said Terry.
"Homeless Guy!" shouted Naomi.
"Conspiracy Theorist!" yelled Anne and Robin together. The others groaned and conceded the point. They flashed their FBI badges belligerently.
"No!" Vicky said. "I mean, yes, but listen: It's all clear to me now. It's all true." Her friends laughed.
"No, I'm serious. Th-th-th there's some sort of force like really affecting our minds. The tinfoil has stopped all of it. Everything is clearer now."
Terry offered her the joint in his hands, "Girl, you need to chill."
"It's all a lie. Everything. Everything is just like, some big joke, some big illusion, we're all just going through the motions of living our lives, you know?" She had a wild look in her dark eyes, and her friends exchanged uneasy glances.
Anne stood and up took her by the shoulder, "Vicky, you don't look so good."
"No! I'm not good, Anne." She accepted being led over to the couch, where she sat down. "Somebody once told me-"
"-That the world was gonna roll me-" Naomi shushed Robin's drunken response.
"-that we're like an untamed forest. An-an-an-and a single footstep doesn't, doesn't make a mark, but-but-but if we all keep walking in the same way, in the same place, and doing the same things, then the forest becomes a path." She grabbed Anne urgently. "We're the path. We're walking the path."
"Uhm...." Anne looked at her friends for help.
"You're really ruining my party Vicky. C'mon. Drop the act, we get it, you're a conspiracy theorist." Terry took a drag.
Vicky pressed her hands against the side of her head. "Humans are on the path, because they're told to be. But there's a whole forest out there. A whole - a whole - a whole set of trees we've never even seen." Her arms jumped , knocking over drinks as her friends groaned, "We need to get off it. We need to go see some new bark, guys. We're just staring at dirt, yo."
Rolling her eyes now, Anne dragged Vicky away from the drinks as the others grabbed paper towel. She guided Vicky towards the bathroom and reached up to take the tinfoil hat.
"Enough of this," she said. It slid off her friend's head, who suddenly slumped against her.
"Wow, I'm sho tiiiired," Vicky slurred. Anne patted her on the back and let her collapse next to the toilet.
"Pull the trigger, let's get this over with." Vicky threw up in the toilet as Anne dutifully held her hair back. She wanted to reach into her pocket for her phone, so she smiled and put the tinfoil in her hand on her head.
A dull thrumming scared her. It came from everywhere around her like she was under power lines. She looked around, and colours grew more vibrant and seemed to blur if she moved her head too quickly. For a long time she just stared at the decorative tiles of the bathroom floor. They were etched by a machine's cold metal claw, she could see the lifeless traces of its perfect grooves. It was so ugly, she thought, so... unnatural. She looked around slowly, letting the colours bleed into each other. She looked up to see Robin standing over her with a concerned look.
"You okay, babe?" The voice came from far away, barely audible over the thrumming. In the corner of the room, a spider's web feebly wavered in the air. No spider in sight, she thought, but it had left a trace of its life behind. Messy lines crossing each other, all for the purpose of making a single home for a single lonely creature.
This was her home, but it was cold and sterile and she hadn't made any of-
Robin took the tinfoil hat off her head, and she felt nauseous. She knelt over the bathtub and vomited. Robin rubbed her back slowly. Anne clutched behind her as she groaned and grabbed the tinfoil on the floor.
She crushed it in her fist and threw it across the tile floor. Spitting a few more times and then turning on the water, she slid around to face Vicky and Robin.
"Alright, let's get back to this party." Vicky was shaking her head groggily.
"I need more to drink." Robin nodded, squeezed her knee, and got up to go fetch her cup.
"I put on the hat, Vicks."
"And?" Vicky said apprehensively.
"Like I said, we need another drink." Anne stood, and ignored Vicky's dark look. She pulled her friend to her feet.
"C'mon, we got a Seinfeld drinking game to play." Out in the room, someone yelled out, that's gold, Jerry! "Terry had to buy an actual physical copy of season 1 for this, let's go." Reluctantly, Vicky followed her out to the couch. She gave one last look to the crumpled tin foil, and then accepted the drink Robin pushed into her hands.
"Yada, Yada, Yada," she cried before downing the liquor.
| 2017-04-10T09:13:50 | 2017-04-10T07:16:44 | 30 | 22 |
[WP] The Japanese say you have three faces. The first face, you show to the world. The second face, you show to your close friends, and your family. The third face, you never show anyone. It is the truest reflection of who you are.
[from this image](https://pics.onsizzle.com/the-japanese-say-you-have-three-faces-the-first-face-5699757.png) | I couldn't say how long I had been putting on an act. It felt like forever. Every moment of every day, devoted to holding that mask in front of my face, smiling politely and nodding understandingly. Behave well in class, I had been told. Fit in with your friends, I had been told. Treat your family with respect, I had been told. Act, hide yourself away, I always heard.
The glare of artificial light cut through the darkness in my bedroom, highlighting my face and little more. A life of acting, broken only by sleep. Switching my phone off at last, the shadows enveloped me, giving me the only moment of respite I ever had.
In that moment, without a mask in front of my face, I showed my true self: no one, nothing, a holder of masks. Take away my acting and nothing remained of me. That is my existence, my purpose, my burden. | Humans are complicated.
This is an important fact that all spirits must be aware of. So many times the young ascend from their mortal shackles, impulsive and distorted- playing with mortals only to find themselves imprisoned or banished instead.
Humans are fragile, yes. They are susceptible to all manner of illusions, desires and temptations. Their flesh is easily rent asunder, their wills are easily suborned.
But that mortal weakness is but one facet of their being.
Look a little closer, spend a little more time watching and learning in the mortal world. On this plane of existence, there is no animal quite like humanity, not even in the far reaches of the black void where strange beings dance and watch the spinning web of time.
Understand that mask of civility and benevolence. That strange thing known as a smile- teeth bared in a twist of humour instead of a threat. That strange desire to love and be loved but also to destroy.
Look deeper still into that strange deep dark abyss. Watch the dreams of sleeping mortals carefully and with reverence. This is the cradle of our existence, the birthplace of all spirits.
We are, after all, nothing but concepts assigned to this world. Meaningless ideas arranged together to create symmetry out of a senseless, chaotic universe.
Humans...are all so similar inside, so afraid and so hopeful at once. Their dreams are almost always too big to fit their existences, too bright and vivid for them to bear in the waking world.
What does that make us? | 2017-04-23T07:50:10 | 2017-04-23T06:53:16 | 43 | 22 |
[WP] You are trapped in a small, windowless room with nothing but a computer with a text editor. When you type in a word, the object appears in the room. However, there's a catch: the only keys on the keyboard are in the first half of the alphabet (A - M). | *Quite the interesting puzzle* I think to myself. *With so few letters, the vast majority of words simply won't work.*
I try out a few words, but most of what I can think of doesn't fit the qualifications. Eventually I type in MAIL.
A letter appears in front of me. It seems to be addressed to someone in Finland. I read the letter, it seems to be a credit card bill... why did this guy spend 300$ on corn?
Either way, generating random letters won't get me anywhere. I need to escape. I need some sort of weapon if I'm going to escape.
SWORD doesn't work. neither does GUN. however, it occurs to me that there's a ton of types of guns, maybe I can use one of those. I look and... yes, the keyboard does have numbers.
AK47.
And right before my eyes, an AK47 appears. I spend some time figuring out how to use it, then I fire it at the wall. No effect.
What I really need is a chainsaw. But of course, can't type that.
OK, let's try a different approach. Maybe I can try typing up someone who can get me out of here. It occurs to me that ME would fit... but what use would there be in summoning another me. But something like CONSTRUCTION WORKER won't work. The longer a string is, the less likely it is that it will work. Then, a strange thought occurs to me. But... no, GOD doesn't fit. Summoning god is probably a stupid idea anyways. That being said... there's quite a few religions, maybe another religion’s name for god will work. the first one that comes to mind is ALLAH which... holy crap it would work.
But... there's no way I'm going to summon a god from a religion I'm not even familiar with. I'll save that as a last resort. Does Allah smite nonbelievers? I have no idea. And I can't even summon a QURAN to check.
On that line though, I consider WIZARD. But of course, wizard won't fit. Neither will MAGICIAN. but MAGIC does work. Hmm... So I can add the magic modifier to anything I want.
I type in MAGIC MAIL, and another letter appears in front of me. I open it, and the voice of a middle aged man starts reading out the contents. It seems to be a letter to his son asking how things are going at "magic school".
This won't help me escape.
What I need is a person with magic powers. MAGIC MAN doesn't fit. Neither does MAGIC LADY, MAGIC GIRL, MAGIC BOY, MAGIC PERSON, MAGIC HUMAN.
Wait... hang on. I recall another option I previously dismissed. I type in MAGIC ME, and sure enough, someone who looks just like me appears, but wearing wizard robes.
"Yo" I say to magic me.
"Yo" says magic me. "Where am I?"
"I'm not completely sure. I just woke up here, but there's this computer that'll let me summon anything I want, as long as it only contains letters from A-M." I say.
"Wait... really, that's OP" says magic me.
"You'd think so, but there's not a lot you can type in. The best I could think of was 'Magic me'." I say.
"So THAT'S why I appeared here." says Magic me.
"Pretty much, yeah. Can you get me out of here?" I say.
"Of course. Anything for another me." says Magic me.
"Great, bring the computer too. I'm going to hook up a complete keyboard, and see what this baby can do." I say.
And so, I teleported out with magic me, and we lived happily ever after. | It’s been 21 cycles since I typed CHALK. I think I was in here for about 2 real days before I figured that one out. Now my “days” end with each time I fall asleep, but If I had to guess, I’d say I’ve been in here for about 2 real weeks. Fortunately I can at least sleep on a BED, albeit it’s really just a mattress on a box spring. The MEALS aren’t exactly “food” either. More like one of those ration bars you see in movies. God, what I would do for the letter O, but at least I still have the delete key. When I typed out DECK it nearly killed me when it manifested. I just wanted a deck of cards, not a fucking porch. That was probably 15 cycles ago. This morning, I had an amazing idea. I would manifest a new deck, dismantle it, and use the wood to make this place a little more homey. Maybe make some shelves to hold my DICE, BALL, and MACE. I went to the computer and typed h-a-m-m-e- and promptly cursed myself out for forgetting R again. Now, I’m sitting on the roof of my yellow CAB, wondering whether or not I should finally turn it on, lay down, and let it run while I slowly fade away. God, what I would do for the letter O. I could hopefully get some better FOOD, but if not, I could at least pass the time by reading a BOOK or playing with a DOG. I’ve already got a BALL for him! Just one more letter and I could have so many more things. Or maybe I could click my heels together, type HOME, and be whisked away back to Kansas or wherever the fuck I’m from. But knowing this stupid machine, it would probably just kill me when it manifests a legitimate fucking house over my head. That’s actually kind of funny though, I wonder what would happen. I need to clear my head. I’m going to go draw a new window.
As I’m drawing a few trees and birds in the "distance" within the four rectangles representing glass panes, my mind starts to wander…. Adjectives! How the fuck did I not try any adjectives? I hurry to the computer, and before I can even think about what might happen, I type BIG. Nothing happens. Great, so now I can only use nouns? Bullshit. Well, back to drawing the outdoors what a fun experiment! Great idea! I’m the best! Just for laughs, I write “/s” on the wall near where I’m drawing the window.
Hold on, there’s something different about the trees and birds. They look a bit bigger, almost as if they got “closer.” Could that be what changed? Typing BIG makes my chalk drawings bigger? I’m backing up while still staring at the window. Backing up towards my BED on the opposite wall. Without looking, I sit down on my BED, like I’ve done tons of times before, hit the edge, and slip off. What the hell? I’ve been trapped in this god forsaken room forever. I can navigate this room with my eyes closed. Did I move the BED when I woke up? Why was it further away from where I thought it was? Something has changed…
I’m already typing BIG over and over again. The room is getting bigger and bigger. While I’m repeatedly entering the word I can see the walls expanding. It happens instantaneously as you press Enter. That’s why I didn’t notice at first. The room expands faster than a blink of an eye. The trees are getting closer! I’m mashing the keyboard now typing BIG as fast as I can, and suddenly the wall with the window begins to crack. Still typing. It buckles until a ray of light shines through near the ceiling. Still typing. I can smell fresh air. I hear the birds! Still typing. The wall finally crumbles as a tree branch pokes through the light hole. Still typing. The cement wall is crumbing more as the tree trunk finally breaks through. I look around and notice that the room is huge now. It’s probably a 3 minute walk just to get to my bed. I run over to the broken wall, rip out some of the bigger chunks of concrete from the wall to make a hole and climb past the tree. I have no clue where the fuck I am, but at least I found a way out. Maybe I’ll go get my CAB and find a road.
| 2017-05-09T10:08:14 | 2017-05-09T09:41:38 | 83 | 27 |
[WP] Science has allowed people to know their precise time of death for decades now. Your Death Party (half birthday, half funeral) has gotten awkward because your time has come, yet you're still alive. | I prepared for death as the countdown began.
"Three, two, one, zero!"
Huh. I don't think I'm still supposed to be alive.
Everybody else noticed too.
"You- you- you're still alive!" Somebody yelled out.
"It would appear so, yeah. No clue why." I responded.
"Oh, wait, sorry guys, I forgot to switch back from daylight savings time." | "WE DID IT!" The head scientist exclaimed.
A raucous cheer erupted in the room and the hallways. As the news spread people thundered in applause, couples hugged and kissed each other. A reporter erupted in smiles in cheers on camera and before she could even say a word everyone knew what the news was. Families screamed joy and hope at their TV screens and cars along all roads around the world honked to commemorate the event.
Reporters swamped the scientific team and in response the Head scientist got on the podium to deliver a statement. Behind him was a large screen that showed a live feed of a frail man surrounded by his family in the hospital room.
"Today, 33 minutes ago, this man would have died. He suffered from stage 4 cancer and was rapidly deteriorating. My team, after 17 years of work and testing injected him with an experimental drug that caused complete and total remission of his disease. While his condition remains critical, we are confident he will survive the night. If he does, let it be known that on this day, we cured cancer."
| 2017-05-10T14:00:56 | 2017-05-10T09:27:10 | 49 | 25 |
[WP] Normally when people are reincarnated they lose all memory of their previous life, but for some reason you remember your past self; a cop who spent his life trying to catch a master criminal, who eventually ended up killing you. You are reborn as your killers child. | "So..." he said, in between sips of fine wine as he reclined on the luxurious chaise lounge. "Do anything interesting in school today?"
"I drew pictures." I said, not taking my eyes up from the once blank, now extraordinarily colourful piece of paper that was sitting on the coffee table. I reached for a red pencil crayon.
His mouth twitched. He was never the type who was able to hide his emotions well. In his line of business, this was usually not a good thing. He was unique however. The most perfect blend of cunning, ruthlessness, and practicality which the Cosa Nostra had never seen before, or since, the day he had been Made as a true "Gentleman." Now, his inability to hide his emotions served as a help rather than a hindrance as even the dumbest of criminals could tell when they had displeased him.
And anybody who was anybody knew that you *never* displeased the Don.
"You seem to do that a lot." he replied, the discontent in his voice obvious. "It's fine for now since you're still young, but you'll have to stop these childish pastimes soon." He took a drag from his cigar, not caring for the fact that mom hated when he smoked in the living room. "The business is what's most important, my son."
"I know." I said simply as I traced the red crayon over the page. "The business is important."
He didn't acknowledge the statement. Just looked to the walls which were lined with large paintings, the prices of which, if they had been sold all together, could purchase some of the poorer countries of the world if my father had been so inclined to do so. When he got too far in his drinks and cigars, he liked to talk of these things that he "could" do. Kill entire families who's bloodlines spanned centuries, assassinate world leaders, de stabilize entire economies, all at the utterance of a few choice words. The only reason he didn't do these things, according to himself, was because he didn't particularly want to.
"What are you drawing now, Nico?" he said after another draw of wine. His voice, tinged with slight drunkenness, took on a twisted sort of a fatherly tone that one takes on when they're only trying to fulfill some self imposed obligation.
"It's a picture of what happened in the past." I replied. I put down the red pencil crayon and showed it to him. "It's you."
He leaned forward to examine it. "The past?" His eyes narrowed when he saw the crudely dressed figures, one wearing a poor interpretation of a police officers uniform and the other a fine Italian suit.
"What's all that red for?" he asked, not fully comprehending what exactly he was seeing, only judging it for the poor quality of artistic skill with which it was made.
"It's blood. The officer's blood. From when you shot him in that alleyway."
He stood up suddenly, his near empty wine glass, his fourth that hour spilling over the carpet.
"What the fuck did you say?" he said unsteadily.
I looked him in the eyes which seemed to be holding my own rather unsteadily. He lurched over to me and grabbed me by the hair, yanking me to my feet and bringing tears to my eyes.
*"What the fuck did you say?* he repeated in a quieter tone. "Where did you hear that? Have you been talking to my employees? tell me which one of those fucking bastards told you that or I'll-"
"Shoot me?" I interrupted, gritting my teeth from the pain of having my hair torn out. He stopped mid sentence and stared at me, a dark look on his face that very few have seen, and that no one alive could describe, only because there was no one left. I knew it very well. I had seen it once before.
He slapped me across the face, not holding back his strength for the sake of his only child. I only tried to stay on my feet to lessen the pain. He was in the process of reeling back for another blow when he gave a tremendous shudder followed by a coughing fit which blew flecks of blood onto my face. He collapsed onto the carpet next to his spilled wine and started to thrash.
I waited as I watched him writhe. He looked to be in tremendous pain, this man who raised me and who I called father. His eyes bulged as he looked at me, pleading for my help. It brought back a memory that was even older than I was, me lying on the piss stained concrete, him standing with a still smoking gun over me. I looked at him, trying to tell him that I had a family, a wife and 2 daughters, but before I could, he raised his gun and then fired once again. That's where the memory ended.
He finally went still, a trail of blood trickling from his mouth to join in staining the ground alongside the wine. I knew that a cursory forensic investigation would show reveal the poison made from household chemicals, but I wasn't particularly worried about myself. There were hundreds of men and women who wanted him dead. Who would suspect his own son?
| My memory was as sharp as it had ever been, I remembered all of the evils this guy had done, all of the suffering he had caused, the countless people killed through his gang. I remembered the outcry of the mother that just returned home to find her husband dead with her child in his arms, the weeping ten-year-old that had just understood that his father was not coming back. The bloody pool in which lay a strangled pup next to its beneficiary. Those and all the others, this legacy of evil his gang has brought about.
I remembered all this, but then I saw that face, that deeply caring, fatherly face that would pick me up and feed me when I was crying for food, my mind wasn't optimized for controlling a babys body, so I couldn't speak to him, and even if I could, I didn't know what I would say. He was at the same time a caring father and family man, who clearly regretted that he had to act as he did in the name of survival. On the other hand, these actions killed not only me, but my family as far as I know. The bomb went off when we were having dinner, my last memory of my two year old doughter was the face of her laying on the ground, maybe unconcious, more likely dead.
One day, the day that I figured out how to open doors in this body, I found him sitting on his bed, in the arms of my 'mom', if you could call her that. I had by that point mastered most of the concious mind of this body, so I stayed scilent as he cryed to just listen, though I could do some speaking by now, I had decided to not freak him out with a speaking baby.
"I had to order the killing of another man today." He said while tears flew down his cheeks. "He was a good man, stuck to his word, had a family of his own and was caring for the family of a dead friend with an adorable, but sadly disabled doughter, another of my sins." He cryed out.
"I know." Mom said.
"He was a cop." He said. "A friend of another one we killed two years ago."
I knew now who he was talking about. Jeffrey, that lovable numbwit had taken on both the role of provinding for my family and trying to bring him down. Tears filled my eyes. I knew now my daughter was alive, though she would have to live with terrible, unhealing injurys. I was greatly thankful to Jeffry, but now his son would also have to grow up without a father, which deeply saddened me. The kid couldn't be older than seven at this point in time.
"Sometimes I question why we are doing this." He said.
"For our survival, and our son." Mom replied, though it was clear this was no sufficiant answer to the question for her. And neither was it for him.
"Are our lives really worth more than all those we have harmed or killed, the list of lives we have ruined to save our own is endless." He buried his face in his hands.
"Do we have a choice?" My mom asked. Her face, which I hadn't seen up untill now, was also full of tears.
"No." He said. "Not unless we want to die and leave our son without parents and possibly no life, and I will not be giving up on him."
This was the moment I decided I had to speak up, but I didn't know what to say for the next few seconds.
He stood up and now realised that I had overheared it all.
"It is OK." I said, talking out of my ass.
"No, it is not, you don't understand." He replied.
"I understand more than you think I do." I said. "I understand who you are, what you have done and why you have done it."
"What is that then?" He asked.
"You have ordered the deaths of dozens of people, cops, rebelling suppordinates, rival gang members." I said.
"You don't even know what half of these words mean." He said. "How can you understand anything you have just said?"
"The key is that I am not who you think I am." I told him. "But to explain that, I would have to go on a bit of a tangent."
"Go on." He said, now interested as I used words I shouldn't know.
"I guess you know the concept of reincarnation?" I said.
"Isn't that the rebirth of the soul?" Mom asked, baffled by my choice of words.
"Yeah, for our purposes that definition is sufficiant." I said. "Well, whatever a soul is, it has to be inseperable from memory, because if a soul is the essence of a person, and there are memorys essential to a person, these memorys are inevitably tied into the soul."
"Sounds logical." Dad said, he was also still completely confused but also acutely listening. "But where are you going with this rambling about the soul?"
"What if I told you that reincarnation is a thing?"
He started loughing. Mom looked at him in a shocked manner.
"You are talking to a deducing toodler, Bib, don't start loughing at rediculous claims he makes." She said.
He was silent again after a few seconds.
"Now lets assume that reincarnation sometimes happens, this would mean that one newborn person would obtain the memorys of one live. And I have the momorys of another person stuck inside my head."
"What person?" Mom asked.
"Harris Miller." I said.
"Who is that?" Mom enquired further. But I saw the realisation in dads face as he fell back onto the bed.
"Harris Miller is a cop I killed." He said, his voice devoid of tone, cracking, as if he broke just then.
| 2017-08-03T17:11:18 | 2017-08-03T14:33:00 | 128 | 11 |
[WP] Heaven and Hell do exist after death but you can choose in which you go. You jokingly choose Hell and when you arrive there, you hear Satan saying: "Finally someone! A friend!" | "Hello!" I yelled into the darkness surrounding me. My voice rattled off unseen walls; deep rumbling echoes built up into a dreadful cacophony that seemed to swallow me whole.
*Hello hellllo helllllll oh-oh-oh*
My skin became goose-pimpled and a shiver ran up my spine.
"Please - I was joking! Death, if you're there still, please. Please!"
*Please pleaaaa pllleaaad-d-d*
I could feel cold, rock wall to my right but nothing in any other direction. With no other option, I plunged into the darkness, always keeping the wall within reach. The ground beneath me was uneven and I had to step cautiously so as not to trip. As I walked, the stench of sulphur began to grow, soon intensifying and wrapping itself tightly around my throat. After a time, I sensed that the passageway was leading me downward: the wall itself began to twist and I knew I was corkscrewing deep into the earth. No, not the earth. I was somewhere else. But if it was Hell, why was it empty?
I don't know how long I crept along in that dreadful, unrelenting silence -- that blinding darkness -- but eventually a dim orange light became visible someway below; I almost wept with relief.
Gradually, as I descended towards the light, my surroundings became less dim and I could see I was on a wide staircase of sorts -- although a ramp might be more accurate, as there were no steps. I glanced down at my feet and to my surprise, I recognised the sight of the black-grey ground I stood upon. It was a type of igneous rock; the type that forms when lava cools and dies.
The ramp eventually led into a vast hollow carved out of black rock walls. It was much brighter in the room than the stairwell, although shadows danced menacingly on the walls. I saw first a great rock table in the center of the room, around which was a circular patch of white ground marked with the tell-tale black veins of marble. Around that, twelve skeletons rested against the chamber's walls, rusty chains around their necks bolting them to the rock behind. There were iron keys lying by each of their legs. Could they have freed themselves but chose not to?
I crept towards the table. On it lay the remains of a great skeleton, much larger than the others, its arms folded proudly across its chest. In its arms lay a long-sword, its blade a shimmering crystal-blue. The huge bones that must have once made up the creature's wings lay spread across the table's wide surface.
An object rested on the creature's skull -- *the light source*. It was almost blinding to gaze upon the chipped red teeth that made up the terrible crown. Each tooth shone like a fiercely burning ruby. *Like a flame.*
On the side of the table was carved an epitaph.
> Here lies the body of the Morning Star, bringer of light. The true son of God. Long did he protect his children from the Angel's lies. No longer he can. By his side rests his eternally loyal apostles.
> Here lies the body of the Morning Star. He awaits to be avenged; he awaits a friend.
I don't know how long I sat in that room, surrounded by death with my arms wrapped tightly around me. Hours, at least. Days, perhaps.
I don't know why I eventually got to my feet and removed the crown of teeth from the skull, and placed it on my head.
But I did.
And as skin around my shoulderblades ripped and bled to reveal the growths beneath; as the eye sockets of the twelve skulls around the table began to flame and smoulder; as I picked up the sword from the skeleton on the table, and saw in my mind's eye the death of God and the Angel's crimes -- I realised that everything was about to change.
| Hell wouldn't seem like a good choice to most people, But I knew I would otherwise bump into all the people I had spent so long avoiding.
Besides, after such a messy suicide, it seemed a bit hypocritical. I was rather aiming for eternal oblivion after all.
The rather nice looking angelic figure who was gatekeeping looked at me with a piercing gaze. Then it looked down, and muttered "Say Hello to Lucy for me, huh?".
Then it was dark. Darker than black. Dark like an actual substance. I was choking on dark. Crushing, soul sucking darkness. I was suffocating endlessly, screaming silently, clawing at my ethereal face, discovering fear was real, realer than any emotion I had ever had, unfettered from depression it was the most utterly awful experience I could ever have imagined. No death. No release. No end. My self hatred evaporated in an instance. Never would I have hurt myself this much. Never would I have hurt anyone this much.
In all the fear and horror I became aware of a tiny speck of light. Focusing my entire existence on the light, until it started to move closer, slowly, endlessly, agonizingly.
"Much like passing a kidney stone" suggested a voice. "Help, please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" my ethereal voice quavered, no bitter pride there now.
"Well, finally. Nobody likes a grumpy drawers". Light blazed from a figure, dispelling the nothing, replacing it with the sweetest light. Like a drink of life, a kiss from an angel.
If a spirit could goggle, I would be goggling. The most beautiful angel I could imagine was in front of me.
"Thank God, thank God" I was babbling (us atheists can be really embarrassing in the afterlife). "Hmm, Rude!" the angel muttered. "I am delighted to meet someone in my humble abode. I do hope we can be friends!".
"Friends? Yes, whatever you want, just please don't bring the black again." I was feeling less feisty than I had been at the gates of heaven, that was clear. After a lifetime of avoiding people, ignoring people, even being willing to die (horribly, I should add.) just to avoid asking for help, there was still no begging I would not try to avoid the dark again."
"Lucifer Morningstar at your service. You must be a special kind of wicked to end up here." chuckled the angel. "Err, suicide." I squeaked, wishing for my shield of depression and resentment to cover up my incredible feeling of insignificane. It was all gone, though. Just shame and regret were available on top of my still raw memory of terror.
"Really?" Mused Lucifer. " Maybe Dad is finally going to God up after all. I don't think I've seen a human soul here since.. well, ever, actually." I meeky confessed that it was I who had choosen this fate, rather that any great judgement, which amused the angel no end.
"Dad isn't really the vengeful type. He couldn't bear to leave anyone out here unless they chose to, you know, turn their back on him". I had a moment of deja vu regarding all the bad decision I had made in my life, scarcely believing I could do worse in death. The lack of self loathing was making it feel much worse, too. "Am I here forever?" I asked in a whisper.
"Oh, good heavens no!" answered Lucifer sardonically. "Just one mewling whine for forgiveness and you'll be gone in a flash." His tone changed to conspiratorial "I should warn you that humans don't go to heaven, though. Just straight back to another life. You've got to become an angel to get into heaven."
This news was the second worst thing I had learned after the dark thing. I really didn't fancy another go at all. "Uh, can I stay here for a while?" I enquired meekly.
His face lit up at this request "But of course, old chap. we can wait till the end of time, eveyone get wings then. Where do you think I got mine?. I could tell you some great stories. ".
"Look, since we're going to be great friends, I will let you in on the secret of dealing with the dark, it was Dad who sussed it first." I looked at him expectantly. "You'll kick yourself" he smiled. Then with a flourish, he said "Let there be light!". | 2022-11-26T20:28:16 | 2017-11-04T07:15:26 | 960 | 21 |
[WP] Heaven and Hell do exist after death but you can choose in which you go. You jokingly choose Hell and when you arrive there, you hear Satan saying: "Finally someone! A friend!" | "Hello!" I yelled into the darkness surrounding me. My voice rattled off unseen walls; deep rumbling echoes built up into a dreadful cacophony that seemed to swallow me whole.
*Hello hellllo helllllll oh-oh-oh*
My skin became goose-pimpled and a shiver ran up my spine.
"Please - I was joking! Death, if you're there still, please. Please!"
*Please pleaaaa pllleaaad-d-d*
I could feel cold, rock wall to my right but nothing in any other direction. With no other option, I plunged into the darkness, always keeping the wall within reach. The ground beneath me was uneven and I had to step cautiously so as not to trip. As I walked, the stench of sulphur began to grow, soon intensifying and wrapping itself tightly around my throat. After a time, I sensed that the passageway was leading me downward: the wall itself began to twist and I knew I was corkscrewing deep into the earth. No, not the earth. I was somewhere else. But if it was Hell, why was it empty?
I don't know how long I crept along in that dreadful, unrelenting silence -- that blinding darkness -- but eventually a dim orange light became visible someway below; I almost wept with relief.
Gradually, as I descended towards the light, my surroundings became less dim and I could see I was on a wide staircase of sorts -- although a ramp might be more accurate, as there were no steps. I glanced down at my feet and to my surprise, I recognised the sight of the black-grey ground I stood upon. It was a type of igneous rock; the type that forms when lava cools and dies.
The ramp eventually led into a vast hollow carved out of black rock walls. It was much brighter in the room than the stairwell, although shadows danced menacingly on the walls. I saw first a great rock table in the center of the room, around which was a circular patch of white ground marked with the tell-tale black veins of marble. Around that, twelve skeletons rested against the chamber's walls, rusty chains around their necks bolting them to the rock behind. There were iron keys lying by each of their legs. Could they have freed themselves but chose not to?
I crept towards the table. On it lay the remains of a great skeleton, much larger than the others, its arms folded proudly across its chest. In its arms lay a long-sword, its blade a shimmering crystal-blue. The huge bones that must have once made up the creature's wings lay spread across the table's wide surface.
An object rested on the creature's skull -- *the light source*. It was almost blinding to gaze upon the chipped red teeth that made up the terrible crown. Each tooth shone like a fiercely burning ruby. *Like a flame.*
On the side of the table was carved an epitaph.
> Here lies the body of the Morning Star, bringer of light. The true son of God. Long did he protect his children from the Angel's lies. No longer he can. By his side rests his eternally loyal apostles.
> Here lies the body of the Morning Star. He awaits to be avenged; he awaits a friend.
I don't know how long I sat in that room, surrounded by death with my arms wrapped tightly around me. Hours, at least. Days, perhaps.
I don't know why I eventually got to my feet and removed the crown of teeth from the skull, and placed it on my head.
But I did.
And as skin around my shoulderblades ripped and bled to reveal the growths beneath; as the eye sockets of the twelve skulls around the table began to flame and smoulder; as I picked up the sword from the skeleton on the table, and saw in my mind's eye the death of God and the Angel's crimes -- I realised that everything was about to change.
| My mind twisted this from comical to a bit dark...
I had accepted my fate as soon as I had sliced my wrists. The hot bath water stung but I had figured Hell would be much worse... only it wasn't. It wasn't what I had expected at all.
"Another suicide? You don't have to stay here, you can go to Heaven" a disembodied voice remarked dismissively, as if this were a common occurrence.
"I have a choice?" Confused did not seem to cover how deeply disoriented I felt at that moment.
"You all do, every single one" the Voice replied airily.
"Does that mean my father is up there?" My voice tremored and I felt the selfhatred begin to suffuse me once more. Something I had hope death with cure.
"They're all up there" the Voice replied forlorn and tinged with jealously.
"I won't go there. Not if *he* is there!" I cried out, my fingers clenched into fists so tight my nails dug into my palms. How could this happen? Father Perez had taught us that sinners go to Hell and only the truly righteous would go to Heaven. He had counseled every week for three years and reassured me that my father would have to answer for his sins against me. How could this be?
My mental tirade ended abruptly at the appearance of a stunningly beautiful man. "Who are you?" I demanded, I could already feel the angry tears building in my eyes, my cheeks I could tell were already rosy from my ire.
"I am Lucifer, the Morningstar" the man proclaimed with a small flourish of his beautiful hand. It was unfair how perfect Satan looked, my own hands were scarred from years cigarette burns. "*He* can heal your skin, if you want to go to him. You'll be happy, it's your personal paradise" Lucifer drawled. Oh...he could read minds.
"I won't go. I don't care if I have to be scarred and ugly for eternity. I won't be anywhere near *that* man!" my voice cracked as I bellowed but I didn't care that I had yelled at Satan, he could do his worst.
Lucifer sighed, no doubt tired with my infantile fury. I held my breath and waited for the hordes of demons to come and smite me. "Heaven is a realm eternal and vast, you will never have to see your father if you do not desire it."
"I won't take the chance!" I had crossed my arms and hunched reflexively without realizing it. I could see the look of pity in his crystal blue eyes as he looked upon my no doubt pitiful presence. "Please, don't make me go" I pleaded. I was angry, scared, and confused. The afterlife wasn't supposed to be like this.
"Okay, you can stay" Lucifer's stance relaxed "you look like you could use a friend."
"I don't need your pity, unless this is how you plan to torture me?" At that Lucifer smiled sadly.
"No, I could use a friend too." The sincerity in his voice jarred me. "Come with me, do you enjoy coffee?" He nodded his head and a simple black door appeared before us.
I goggled the question. "Can't you read my mind?" I laughed as I followed him through the door into what looked like a well appointed modern mansion. It was stunning.
"What kind of friend would I be if I read your mind so callously?" He asked with an arched blonde brow. "And, while I'm asking questions, what is your name?"
"Ash" I mumbled and played with the cuff of my stained hoodie sleeve. Lucifer paused in his coffee making and looked at me quite intensely.
"Ash? Is that short for anything?"
"*Ashtoreth*, my mom picked it out but it's embarrassing." I murmered. Mom was Jewish, technically I was supposed to be too. I wondered if that would matter to Lucifer. It didn't matter to my foster parents.
"No, Ashtoreth, I thinking it's quite fitting." Lucifer had a very happy smile as he pulled shots of espresso. He handed one to me and it looked unnaturally beautiful for coffee. "It's a ristretto, sip it." Lucifer commanded and sipped his own. I watched as he sighed in contentment.
I brought mine to my lips and sipped. The espresso warmed me and I felt new. I felt whole. "Welcome home, *Asteroth*."
I was *home*.
| 2022-11-26T20:28:16 | 2017-11-04T08:14:39 | 960 | 19 |
[WP] You have lived an average and boring life, upon death you arrive at the pearly gates and Saint Peter drops to his knees in fear begging for you to not hurt him, alarms begin sounding in the distance | Here we are again.
6 in the morning, get up, get dressed, get food, get teeth brushed, and get in the bus. Always the same thing. Living the real office worker dream, everything being calculated and scheduled.
The bus just turned left after the hairdresser, it picked up the old lady with the dog, and we will soon see the bakery. Wait, why are we slowing down ? Oh no...
I finally open my eyes, and instead of the bus seats, all I can see in front of me is a white fluffy cotton-candy-like substance, and a nice warm light. I painfully get up, and start walking towards the wonderful shiny grids. As I come closer, I notice someone casually reading the thickest logbook I've ever seen in my whole life. I start to clear my throat so that they acknowledge my presence. The person proceeds to lift a already-bored face and say "hmm... welcome to the Heaven Gates... Please read the board over there to agree with the terms and condit..."
He just stops mid-sentence, his jaw hanging nearly to the floor. I turn my head and proceed to read the board :
"Welcome in Heaven !
If you can read those words, then congratulations, you are welcome to join us. You've acted for the greater good during your life, and you're now granted the right to enjoy your afterlife ! Please notice that no noise is accepted near the gates, and a map of the Heavens is available at the counter.
Have a great eternity !"
'Death seems pretty nice after all' was the only thought in my head, and I just shrugged before going to the counter. But, instead of a peaceful, smiling Saint Peter, all I can see is the Great Angel himself down on all four, sobbing like a child.
I run to him, and ask "is everything okay buddy ?". Whilst I speak, I reach his shoulder with my hand.
As soon as I touch the smooth, silky skin, he starts to scream and to run away from me, leaving me dumbfounded in front of the logbook. Quick look to the sides, nobody there. I then begin to read the book, and can see pages and pages of names, followed by the mention 'Heaven', 'Purgatory' or even 'HELL'. The names being ordered in the alphabetical order, I search for mine, but I surprisingly can't find it... After a few minutes, I see where it's written. Here, the little squiggle, which has been scratched over and over again. I take a few steps back, not really knowing what to do nor to think...
Guess I'll just knock on heaven doors, and see what happens.
| All my life I felt a presence with me, nothing too noticeable or outright crazy. I had this feeling ever since I was born, as if someone was always with me. My father would often tell me it was my guardian angel watching over me and keeping me safe, though the presence never really felt.. peaceful. I loved my life as ordinarily as it gets. I did half decent in high school and went to college and got a degree in business. I never really did anything.. spectacular in my life, as if something prevented me from ever wanting to do more with my life. It wasn't until I died that the presence felt stronger than ever, I saw myself being lifted quite ceremoniously through the sky.
The car that hit me laid a few hundred feet away from where my body had laid and the man inside seemed to be unconscious. As I ascended I saw what could only be described as a singularity pulling me into the abyss made of pure light. Before I knew it I was standing in front of a gate as tall as a skyscraper made of quarts and gold and a gate beyond all measure of beauty. I didn't notice it at first but there was something that was with me.. a.. darkness. I turned around and saw the figure that had always been with my my whole life. "Who are you?" I asked looking quite excited to meet the embodiment of what had been with me my whole life. "I am Satan, I decided to come to earth in my form. I decided I would latch onto you and grow in strength until you passed. Now it's time to fulfill my purpose." The dark figure that had no appearance except for a dark abyss that outlined its figure. It walked towards me and injected itself back into me and I felt the presence once more.
I had no idea what to think but my emotional levels were quite.. bleak. I walked towards the gate and the man that stood there went from expressing pure joy to that of great horror. He blew a horn and began walking backwards before stumbling and falling to the ground, shaking. He kneeled down on his knees and begged for mercy, for me not to hurt him. I felt the dark presence take over me and force me to lift my hand. I snapped my fingers and it looked as though all happiness, joy, and life had evaporated from the mans face and left nothing but the shell of once was a man, shriveled up and darkened. Sirens rang from the gates and behind me was darkness slowly making its way towards the gates at my back as I walked forwards.
I touched the gate and it darkened and shriveled into rust before falling down before me. "The battle is now" said the voice from with in. Behind me were noises beyond description, dark, low, horrifying are just a few. Dark creatures and monsters came from the darkness and sprinted towards the walls of heaven. Ahead, there were millions of angels with swords and behind them was a great light and the figure of a man to its right. The light gave off a thundering noise that pierced all. "Thy sin will come to judgement, all will see your wickedness and you will fall before me. " both sides sprinted towards each other, the noise was deafening. We collided with swords and flesh and thunder exploded all around. This was the beginning. This was the start of The Rapture. | 2018-05-14T10:26:34 | 2018-05-14T09:48:52 | 58 | 36 |
[WP]A Scientist discovered time travel and spent his whole life time traveling. As he was about to die, he decided to be buried at his hometown’s graveyard specifically the year when he was four years old. Everything was fine until he went to heaven and found a confused God. “You should be alive” | “You… you should be *alive*.”
The Force/Energy/All which set the universe first in motion spoke to my consciousness with such intense curiosity and disbelief, I could hardly bear it. That tone seemed to come from an animal who understands *food* and *danger*, but was suddenly told *you are a pet, but they will still eat you*. I had rocked God back on its heels, and the feeling was beyond unsettling. It disturbed the core of my existence, which at this point was all I was. I waited.
“Do you not understand what you have done, child?” it continued.
A feeble “no” was all I could muster.
“When the first son set himself apart from I, I was rent - a portion of what I AM went with him, and that was his sin - having injured I. No other being in any of the worlds has touched the nature of I and come away gaining, save for he… and now you. Do you know what it has cost I?”
Some echo in my memory wondered how the all-knowing Creator didn’t know that I didn’t know. There was a type of fear slowly rising from deep inside the recesses of my soul, and I let it be, for the moment.
“I do not,” I replied.
“I AM PERFECT/BOUNDLESS/CEASELESS/INFINITE/ALL/NOTHING/TIME/ENERGY, AND YOU HAVE TAKEN FROM I! IT HAS COST I EVERYTHING!”
I was unmade.
I was made once more.
“...and it has cost I nothing,” it finished. “You cannot be punished for this sin against I, for it was I who gave you free-will. Tearing yourself from the mortal plane, yet still existing in the timespace beyond that rift, does not align with the function I arranged, and I AM wounded - but I will continue on.”
Again, I waited.
“You cannot go back.” It was a solemn intonation, and I seemed to suffer through an eternity of dreadful apprehension before it went on.
“...but neither may you go forward. You must wait until I have Done, and you will wait here.”
On a bright, breezy afternoon in late spring when I was four years old, my mother and father took me on a picnic. I remember how lush the grass felt, and the scent of far-off honeysuckle. I was excited to see a family of robins flitting from branch to branch in the tree under whose shade we laid our quilt, and they sang to us. Then, until the universe completed itself, we three enjoyed that fine lunch while the sun twinkled at us ‘twixt the oak leaves.
| Just like that, there he was, at the gates of heaven. Sun rained through solid gold gates and he walked atop pearly pink and white clouds. It had been 2 weeks since he had died, sick and tired of endless life. In his life, the man had been a scientist, and he was only 44 when he had discovered time travel. Straight away, he tested it out, by visiting the near future, just a couple months. It was a huge success, and he took more trips. Not too far, because he took on the age of whichever time period he visited. He walked further, he touched the gates. They opened at his touch, and inside was paradise.
Slowly he walked in, and suddenly he was lifted up by a breeze. He didn't understand what was happening, but he knew he wasn't in danger. He must've flew a mile, but it only took a few seconds, for when he next touched ground, he was above everything in the universe, save one.
"Why are you here?" a great booming voice rang down. "I died." he answered.
"Now, now." said the voice. "Let's not beat about the bush, David. You're supposed to be alive."
"How do you know my name? Who are you?" asked the man. "And I'm definitely dead. I died 2 weeks ago."
"I'm God, David." A man about 2.75m appeared out of nowhere appeared. He looked like the Bible's description of Jesus but had a bright yellow halo around his head. "You're God?" David spluttered in disbelief.
"Yes David." God said. "You're supposed to be alive. You died at 4, but you were also definitely alive from 1985\-2057."
"Yes, that's true." said David. "I made a time machine, and I travelled time for several lifetimes. Then I got sick of livings, and decided to go back to when I was four, to die."
"Yours is a difficult case." said God. "Nothing like this has ever happened before."
"I know. I was the first person to ever invent a time machine." said David, with a hint of pride.
"David..." said God, "I didn't mean it like that. It's not a reason to celebrate."
"What?" said David. "Why?"
"Well," said God, "People can only come to Heaven if they have a consistent lifetime, from birth to death. But you have died after you have existed in the future."
"Yes, that's true." said David.
"That's a terrible thing to do." said God. "You have broken one of the rules."
"Am I going to Hell?" David wondered.
"No," said God, "Any person who has had a consistent lifetime will either go to Heaven or Hell, but not you. You've broken the system. You're a glitch. Glitches need to be deleted for the system to work properly. You understand that, don't you?"
"I didn't mean to. I had no idea." said David fearfully, backing away. "I won't do anything bad, ever again."
"I'm sorry, David. You can't be here." said God, and that was the last David knew. | 2018-06-03T01:12:54 | 2018-06-02T23:46:03 | 61 | 37 |
[WP] You've been captured by a serial killer. However, he doesn't realize he's the one in danger - your body count is much higher. | I sat in a rickety wooden chair in the middle of an abandoned house. The kid who captured me had duct-taped my torso to the back of the chair, and was now trying with some difficulty to bind my wrists behind my back.
"You're doing it wrong," I told the kid. "You should've knocked me unconscious first. Right now, I'm wide awake, fully aware of what you're doing. I could have screamed and the whole neighborhood would hear me."
I could hear the kid's shuddering breath as panic set it. His hands trembled as he cinched the knots.
"Plus," I continued, "you've taken too long with my hands. If you're going to have the victim awake while you tie them up, at least show a sense of urgency."
"Shut the fuck *up!"* the kid shrieked.
I shrugged. "Hey, just offering some advice. In that same spirit, I should also point out that you've completely ignored my legs and feet."
I sprang to my feet, bent at the hips. With the chair on my back and the legs now aimed toward the kid, I ran backwards and barged into him. He fell backwards with a comical squeak. He lay on his back, and I brought the chair down upon him, digging one of the legs into his shoulder. He howled in pain, but I held him there for a good ten seconds, letting him feel it. I kind of felt bad. But sometimes people just need to learn the hard way.
I released him, and he rubbed his shoulder with a whimper.
"So now," I said, "thanks to your banshee screech, we have approximately two minutes until a nosy neighbor calls the police, another ten before they arrive. You really could have picked a better location--*any* location. A heavily-trafficked suburban neighborhood is not your friend if you're going for a slow kill."
The kid stuttered. "Wh-- Wh-- Who the fuck *are* you, man?"
I instinctively tried to reach out my hand to shake his, but remembered I was tied up. I smiled at him. "The Reaper of Ponderosa Pines. Or just Jack, if you please. Pleasure to meet you."
The kid's eyes widened and his brows furrowed. "You're shitting me. You're the *Reaper?"*
I bobbed my torso up and down in a mock bow. "And may I ask, who are you?"
The kid straightened up, a sense of pride enveloping his expression. "I'm the Cinch County Strangler."
I held back a laugh. "Ahh, so you're the newcomer then. I've been keeping up with your story. Your only kills were two women half your size and weight, and you snuck into their houses and suffocated them in their bath tubs with a shoe lace. Low-hanging fruit, don't you think?"
He sneered. "What the fuck ever, man."
"I'm just saying, you start picking on cute girls enjoying an evening at home, then what purpose are you fulfilling? How does killing a mom in her bathtub serve anyone? Now, you're just like every other Strangler and Mutilator and Executioner out there: killing erratically, without a plan." I look from him to myself with a snicker. "Obviously."
The kid went silent, sulky.
I plopped the chair onto the floor and exhaled loudly. "Look, you have potential. I wouldn't be talking to you if I was lying about that. You just need a mentor, like I did. My mentor instilled in me a mission, a sense of purpose, so that I wouldn't just go willy-nilly killing Joe Schmo who's trying to put his kid through college. He taught me *who* to look for, *how* to kill them, and *why.* You following?"
The kid nodded.
"Good. Then do you and me a favor: Cut me loose, and let's go for a night on the town."
The kid hesitated. I rolled my eyes. "Look, kid, if I wanted to kill you, I would've brought the chair leg down on your neck, not your shoulder."
He pursed his lips, then cut me free. I didn't kill him. I'm a man of my word.
I clapped a hand on his good shoulder. "Let's get a drink. We have a lot to [discuss](https://www.reddit.com/r/phunk_munky/)."
| You know, it is hard to feel guilty for the guy. And I am ashamed to admit that my lack of guilt is for all the wrong reasons. I should not feel guilty because he is a crazed killer who enjoys torturing people in his van. But I simply do not feel guilty about it because he is fat and smells like sweat, and the stench makes the uncomfortable ride in the back of his rusty old van even worse.
I guess serial-killers come in two forms, those with low impulse control and those with obsessive behaviors. It was just my luck that I would catch the former. Or rather, that I was caught by the former.
Then again, who am I to judge? I couldn't even blame my misdeeds on psychiatric disorders. No, I was only selfish. So that is a real philosophical puzzle right there. Who is worst? The guy with the mental condition which makes his free will basically a glorified pinball machine, or the guy who is simply to cowardly to do the right thing? Or do I even have free will? Perhaps our brains are just wired to react in some predictive pattern.
Then again, my surroundings does not leave much room for quasi-philosophical musings. It really reeks back in here. Not only the sweat, but he doesn't seem to do much cleaning up either. This van is a crime tech's wet dream and a neat person's worst nightmare. It really said something about his hygiene that the stench of his sweat could overpower the putrid rotten smell that also permeated the cabin.
I can see his eyes in the mirror. He looks, well, there is no other word for it, aroused. I make some muffled sounds through the blindfold. He does not flinch. I guess he has been here before. Also, the zip-ties really hurt. Truth be told I didn't really try to speak. I'm just telling myself that it could have been a warning. The things we do to justify our actions and inaction.
We have been driving for a while. I had no idea where we are in relation to the parking garage where he snagged me. Then again, I probably shouldn't be near parking garages. Perhaps I got what I deserved. We are on some sort of highway at least. I can tell by the sounds of traffic and how the traffic lights rhythmically casts glowing yellow light through the night and into the dark cabin of his van. It seems as though we are slowing down now however. I roll uncomfortably on the floor of the van as he takes an off-ramp a bit too fast. I guess the arousal is real. He is in a hurry now.
He drives for maybe 10 more minutes. He seems to know exactly where he is going. I guess he has been here before. The van finally comes to a stop and I can hear him opening the door and closing it. His steps makes sounds on gravel outside. Then the door in the back cabin slides open. He has a flashlight and it hurts as he points it at my face. I can't see anything. It doesn't really matter.
He grabs my legs and starts dragging me out of the van. I guess I am lucky he does not just start with the stabbing right away. Though some part of my brain tells me that would have been a good thing. I hit the gravel ground hard. He doesn't even try to break my fall. Asshole. I can see him partially now as the flashlight is still pointed inside the van. His fat bulk can't hide the erection.
"Up" he says with a hoarse voice.
I scramble to my feet. The flashlight is back in my eyes. It should start any minute now.
"I'm going to have fun" he says. He doesn't say it in insidious way like in the movies. He says it in a stupid way. Great. Blindsided by an idiot. Way to go Robert.
"I'm going to..."
His words stop. It has started. The gurgling is always the worst part.
He starts to gurgle. The flashlight clanks to the ground. It lands on a rock and spins around, partially lighting him up. His hands are at his throat. That's what lack of air does to you. His eyes aren't aroused anymore, they are panicked. He drops to his knees. This is where it gets bad.
Blood starts seeping from his eyes. The last air in his lungs is used for screaming as he pisses himself. I don't know how it feels, but I know it is painful. The blood mixes with actual tears. If they are tears of pain or panic I do not know. I don't really want to know either. His convulsions lasts for a while. He doesn't have the air to scream, so he can only live with the pain now. White foam exists his mouth and hits the ground.
Then the silence fills the night. I painfully scramble to my feet and look down on his corpse. He has to have a knife somewhere, the inside of his van told of a guy who liked his sharp instruments. I need to cut these zip-ties off.
And then I need to get away from here. They will find this and they will know I was here. The man-hunt for patient zero is the largest in human history. I don't want to die.
| 2018-08-23T04:40:56 | 2018-08-23T02:26:34 | 32 | 23 |
[WP] You've been trapped in an endlessly repeating simulation by an alien race, studied and researched. They believe when they reset it, your memory resets as well, but for the last 1000 cycles you remember everything. | My hands closed around the necklace, felling the smooth, white pearls. The sirens blared in the background, and a cold breeze cent chills down my spine. I took the necklace, stowing it in my breast pocket, and walked away. I knew what I would find if I continued to walk forward, and I knew there was nothing I could do.
I have been trapped in this life for thousands of years, and I would not trade it for anything. It’s as if the watchers have no understanding of the most powerful force in the cosmos—Love.
Love is a smile on the first day of preschool, where we first met—every time. She shared my crayons, and I caught a frog, gave it to her, and laughed when she screamed and ran away. The next week, I fell and cut myself in the field. She was nearby, and ran towards the pond. I was afraid, but she returned. She brought me a frog. *That* is love.
Love is the first real kiss at the homecoming dance. She wore a tight, blue dress with lace. I wore a black suit and matching blue tie. We danced slow, and I felt her hands in mine. The event changed over the years, but the dance remained the same; our hands locked together, my arm around her waist. It was prom—I asked of her plans for college, and she just teared up. I knew then—I had lost her.
Love is a coffee shop in our hometown, years later, on a Saturday morning. She looked up at me from her newspaper, and rose slowly, approaching me.
“Peter, is that you?” She would say, the most beautiful woman in the world.
“Sarah. It’s been ages! You look lovely. Mind if I join you?” I would always respond.
The next hundred dates I perfected, and they all led to the same event—a dance. She wore her wedding gown, and I wore my tuxedo, our hands locked together, my arm around her waist. The say there are no fixed points in time, but I have my own theories.
The future diverged once more. We had our struggles, like any couple, but we always worked through them. We sometimes had children. Sometimes they were boys, with brown eyes and blonde hair. Sometimes they were girls, with blue eyes and black hair. Always they were loved and grew up to have kind families of their own. I was always so proud of them, and it took a little bit of my soul each time I restarted.
The future converged once more. I could never stop her from taking the bus to see her college friend. The name of the friend changed, the time of the bus changed, and the city we lived in changed, but the result was always the same.
Love is a necklace, thrown off by the force of the collision. Sarah’s body lay behind the battered car, and I could not bear to look at it again. I’m eighty now; a husband for forty years, a widower for five or ten or twenty more.
Then I get sent back again by the watchers. I could choose a different life, but I don’t want to. I want to save her, but even if I can’t—this is no curse—this is no torture. This is life, and sometimes life is bittersweet, but the years I get to spend with Sarah make it worth living, every single go round.
***
r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | *Have you heard of Zeno's Paradox?*
The memory surfaced in Dr. Redere's mind as he stared over his machine, sweat trickling down his brow to meet the grey in his unkempt three week old beard. He blinked, surprised by the sudden memory, as his finger paused over the *on* switch.
It had taken years to design and program the contraption before him, but only twenty days to build. The mess of wires wove in and out of channels carved between stacks of processing units and memory banks, converging at a small circle in the center, the true genius of the schematics. For there, there was the potential for infinite imagination.
It was all too simple, of course, when viewed through reduced terms. In that center was a complete and total vacuum, where particles jumped in and out of space of their own accord, in a massive balancing sheet to befuddle even the most astute accountant. There, the particles could decrease in size, below atoms, below quarks, below the smallest building blocks ever discovered by science. There, they became a size dictated by him, relativistically tied to no outside world. Why, there, in that sphere of emptiness, matter would be born from nothing, and to nothing it would return.
But first, it would store memory. Infinite memory. The memory of a new world, one with the potential to be even more complex than its parent.
His finger paused again over the button as he itched to press it, his memory flitting back as he stared at a picture of a Mandelbrot on his wall. It had been high school the last time he had heard of Zeno, and high school was not a time he wished to dwell upon. And that day in particular, his arm had freshly been broken from the school bully, the son of the very principal.
"Now, Zeno's paradox is befuddling, to say the least," had said his teacher, scratching a line into the chalk board as Redere watched from the back of the class, spitballs stuck to the back of his head, "But the implications are profound. Say you are a mile from a destination, and you travel in half increments. Soon, you are at a half mile. Then three quarters. Then half again. Truly, each time you take a step, you come closer to your goal."
Dr. Redere's frown back then matched his one in current day, as the memory continued.
"But what matters most is this- with incremental improvements, is the goal ever met? If each movement can be characterized as a half step, will the full mile ever be complete? Or will it just become infinitesimally close?"
Blinking his eyes to return to the present, Dr. Redere couldn't remember the conclusion reached by his teacher. Surely, eventually the goal would be met?
And now, as he stood above his contraption, he allowed himself a smile, albeit an uneasy one. It was the greatest feat of humanity- a simulation machine, designed to replicate the current world, but to make a small adjustment. To move slightly more towards fairness, towards a better reality in that new infinite universe. To a world where bullies did not break arms, and were not protected by their fathers. And from that world, he could learn, and he could reconstruct a fresh one.
But a thought held Redere captive as he paused - perhaps, just perhaps, this had all been done before. Perhaps it would happen again, in the very world he was creating.
And if so, only in a perfect universe would his machine never be built, as there would be no need. For as long as there were slights, and unfairness, and evil, there would be one like him to build a better world.
With a swallow, he pressed the button, closing his eyes as the machine started to intialize, his breathing shallow as he avoided the thought in the back of his mind.
If perfection could not be reached, and new worlds were created forever- had he just stopped his own?
***
By Leo | 2018-12-03T21:21:20 | 2018-12-03T20:59:14 | 503 | 119 |
[WP] Your flight just took off with 287 passangers. Due to a software error, 286 US air marshalls were assigned to your flight. None of them are aware of each other. You are the lone passenger. Describe what happens | As the airplane roared 30,000 feet above the Pacific Ocean, I managed to kill another person. In CSGO, that is. What else am I supposed to do on a flight? Thank god the wifi was decent and not expensive on this flight.
Holding down the key to plant the bomb, I leaned back to stretch out my stiff back. That was a mistake. I leaned back a little too far, ripping the headphones out of the laptop.
"BOMB HAS BEEN PLANTED"
"GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND!" The guy sitting next to me tackled me to the ground, drawing a gun.
HE'S GOT A GUN! FREEZE!"
Chaos ensued, with shots being fired everywhere. I just stayed on the ground, praying that I didn't get hit by a stray bullet. As it quieted down, I looked around to see the rest of the passengers shot and dead.
"What happened here!?" The flight attendant exclaimed. "Well, I guess that can't be helped. Would you like some food, sir?"
"What do you have?" I replied, eyeing her warily. She seemed to be acting calm. Too calm.
"The only thing we have available right now is Chicken Dinner." | We were somewhere over the pacific ocean, when it happen. I knew flying Malaysian Airlines would be risky, but the tickets were so cheap. I thought what's the worse that could happen.
Well we are flying over the pacific and they put on the in flight film: White Chicks. I let out a groan and turned to the white mustachioed old man next to me and asked him, "Can you believe they're showing this crap? This movie was a total bomb."
All of a sudden the guy two rows behind me and across the isle stands up and says, "What did you say, boy?"
The old man next to me looks at him, "The kid is just upset about the movie, sit down Junior."
​
The guy pulls his guy and says, "Oh no wasn't. He said he had a bomb!"
​
A few rows behind him, a guy pulls his gun and says, "Everybody get down, he has a bomb." Then shots the other guy in the back the next thing I know everyone has there gun out and his shooting at everyone else. The mustachioed old man has me down on the ground covering me and the plane is falling out of the sky.
​
We hit the water with a jolt and the cabin bursts into bit. There in so blood and carnage, I grab the old man and detach the seat cushion to help me drag him to the surface. I find a large piece of floating debris and put the old man on it. He coughs up a bunch of water and slowly regains consciousness.
​
He rolls over and looks at me, "Thanks kid, you're a real life saver. You know I think you're right. They need to stop showing white chicks. This is the fifth times this exact thing has happened this year." | 2018-12-04T17:13:09 | 2018-12-04T16:54:57 | 98 | 72 |
[WP] You are known by many as the worst exorcist in history. Every job you've ever taken has ended in you being possessed by whichever entity you came to banish. You've been doing this deliberately, though. You have plans - big plans. And today, you're putting those plans into action. | "You don't have to do this. There are others, and they are all better than you. Just distract the demon until reinforcements arrive."
I looked at the priest. He was the holy man of this small village, where news from the outside world was few and far between. Yet even he had heard about what a pitiful exorcist I was.
I squared my shoulders. "Worry not," I told him. "The Church has sent me to rid the town of this demon."
The priest looked at me with pity in his eyes. "This isn't a minor imp, this is a greater demon. You will die if you go up against him."
I shook my head and sent the priest away. This fight was mine and mine alone. True, my foe was eight feet tall, had horns another two feet in length, and had arms bigger than my torso.
The demon looked at me and chuckled, in a deep baritone voice. Then, without even bothering to move a muscle, I could feel its evil and foul mind merging with mine, the tendrils seeking out all my memories and control of my body.
<Wait> I thought at it, before it could destroy me <I wish to make a deal.>
Perusing my thoughts let this unholy abomination see what I had in mind, and it was interested.
An hour later, I was awakened by the priest. Being possessed really did a number on your mind, I was lucky to be alive. I was given the usual "good job, nice try, at least the demon left" and was sent home without pay. Another failure under my belt.
But I had what I wanted.
The final piece.
When I got home, the demons were waiting for me. All the demons. Every imp, lemure, and spirit that had ever possessed me. Hundreds of them.
I smiled.
"Let us begin"
And every one of them started singing in harmony. I knew that all we needed was the baritone to make it perfect. This music was worth selling my soul to hear. | Father Richardson's cassock was drenched in blood, vomit, and something green and gelatin-like. I hoped that mess hadn't come out of me.
He was furiously wiping the filth from his face but his burning blue eyes stayed fixed on me.
"You insolent idiot!" He sneered, "When Father Esposito called me and begged me to take you on as an acolyte I knew there was a catch. I thought perhaps you had done something uncouth... perhaps committed sodomy, or were just 'country slow' as they put it..."
He continued berating me while I stumbled groggily to my feet. The omnipotence was gone but I could still feel a tinge of what it felt like to know the expanse of... everything. But now the vastness of my knowledge was collapsing confined to the 5 senses I currently possessed.
"...In all my years I've never seen someone place their tongue inside a possessed's mouth..."
I could remember it now. The plump Spanish woman had been breathing heavily, speaking the Latin I spoke so well while her two younger sisters prayed from her bedside.
The smell of the sulfur had been intoxicating. There's nothing like the presence and power of full possession. When you give yourself to something higher, more powerful, more knowledgeable than yourself the plunge is the most thrilling thing you will ever experience.
"You are done Mr. Jacobs! You will never be a priest. I know we have a severe shortage of men willing to make the commitment but your recklessness would get many many more killed! You risked your immortal soul for what reason?" He glowered at me.
"I thought I might... suck the demon out?" I lied.
"Oh you sucked him out alright. Then YOU threw me across the room, cursed me in five languages, accused me of CHILD molestation, and then proceeded to paint me with every possible body fluid out of every possible orifice!"
I pretended to look admonished but in all honestly it was hard. After all it was my seventh possession. I was a junky. I had come to terms with this fact after the third time with Father Michael.
I fell to my knees and begged Father Richardson to recant his decisions. I pawed at his clothing but my hands just slipped of the warm fluids.
"My God man, you're acting like a blithering idiot. Are you still possessed?" He shoved a cross in my face then looked into my eyes as if he was searching for pupil dilation.
I didn't really care for the man and it probably showed on my face but the desperation was real. I needed the cleric. I couldn't just go full-blown possession. I needed something to bring me back so that I could be me again.
| 2019-02-06T21:23:31 | 2019-02-06T20:35:09 | 123 | 21 |
[WP]: The most sought woman in the town has announced that she will marry whoever can open her door with the key around her cats neck. Many have tried to catch, trap and hunt down the cat, who always escapes. You are the first to figure out they've all been doing this all wrong. | Pattie was an extremely odd woman. Her practices seemed odd and out of place in our small town.
Despite all of that, she was the center of everyone’s attention, in a good way. Most men could not take their eyes off of her. She was extremely beautiful, the way her curly raven hair danced around her shoulders as she walked, her sky blue eyes clouded in mystery.
One day, she announced that anyone to open her door when the key was around her cats neck would get to marry her. Many men have tried catching the poor ginger feline, but none have succeeded.
One day, I decided that I would try, just to see if I could.
Like I mentioned earlier, most men trying to open the door attempted to catch the cat. That wasn’t the best plan. Cats are very smart, and fast, so it would be hard to catch one by chasing it.
I thought for a second, and sat down on the porch. I waited and waited, everyone walking or driving by giving me odd looks, but I stayed still. Just, sitting there.
Soon enough, I noticed the cat poke its head around the corner. It slowly walked towards me, so I held perfectly still and waited.
A few minutes passed, and the cat walked up to me. It gently rubbed its fluffy head against my arm, and leaped onto my lap. It curled up and purred.
I took a risky move and started petting the cat. It purred again and cuddled into my touch.
Soon enough, when I felt I had gained the animal’s trust, I lifted it up and brought it to the door. The key was fastened tightly to its neck, so it would be hard to remove it. So I tried a different approach.
Why I felt as if I had the cat’s trust is that it fell asleep on me. I gently positioned the key in front of the lock and opened the door.
Pattie was sitting in the front room the entire time, watching me. She smiled when I quietly closed and locked the door, laid the cat on the rocking chair on the porch, and walked off whistling.
The next day, I got a call from her.
“I see you found out how to open the door. Congratulations! A man with patience, knowledge, and care is a perfect man for me! Would you like to go on a date to find out more about each other?” She said from the other end of the phone.
“But Pat, I’ve known you since kindergarten!” I chuckled. “Sure, where and when?”
(Based off of me and my girlfriend irl) | Humans have always been on the strange side, especially the Sukts. This Sukt however was a wealthy merchant, owning several ships, so we put up with her weirdness. Yep her, but we orcs are egalitarians when it comes to putting up with people due to money. However, she remained alone. One day as I walked through the streets heading somewhere just to find it was nowhere, I spotted a crowd clustered around the notice board. My first assumption was that some one's nude's had been leaked. Last month it was the daughter of the Mayor, he had been livid but what could he do? The artist was never seen. This time it wasn't nudes, it was the annual baking contest. He instantly knew who would win and turned to go, then he spotted the real reason. Gwendoline, the female merchant, was having a contest for her hand in marriage. Whoever could get the key around her cat's neck could marry her. That was an issue, after all my old master, a beast shaaman, had given her that cat. What was its name? Midnight I think. I watched others struggle to capture the cat. It was great fun. The cat lead them on fantastic chases. Bratish cheif's would find themselves stuck and having to beg for help. Rich merchants found themselves with soiled clothes. Corca the Lesbian was pushed into the water. The lawsuit for discrimination went nowhere and she married the defense lawyer.
&#x200B;
All throughout this the baker, who had indeed won the annual baking contest, kept giving Gwendolyne food. I do wonder how much she was paying him to deliver. The food looked delicious and I would occasionally steal a scone. He, also being Suktish, was the only baker in the orcish city of Tracats that baked them. They were delicious. After two months I had a sudden idea. I ran to where the cat was. Midnight was eating some tarts at the baker's door. No doubt this was an order, I would have to chase the cat away. I reach out my hand and flicked up. A spike of Earth impaled the cat and I grabbed the. I triumphantly went and unlocked Gwendolyne's door. Now I could have a bride and be wealthy. I wouldn't have to do odd jobs with my magic used for menial tasks. I could study with the greatest of the shaaman. I would become great and teach my own students. Oh happy day, oh glorious day. She looked at me and then behind me to the baker carrying the cat. She screeched and ran to him. After hearing what happened Gwendolynechased me out crying. The rules hadn't specified no death, what did she think would happen.
&#x200B;
She married the baker and I was not invited to the wedding even though the entire city was.
(Adventures in Swiat)
(I mean no ill will towards /u/NicodemusLux 's story. I quite liked it. I just felt like poking some fun at it. If you are he and desire this to be taken down just ask and it will be done.) | 2019-05-01T17:28:57 | 2019-05-01T17:15:21 | 36 | 12 |
[WP] You own a small specialty meat purveyor. You and your crew inspect, purchase, slaughter, and butcher the animals yourselves. Years ago, on a whim, you started whispering "for Apollo" at each kill. You've just dispatched the firm's 10,000th cow. | "For Apollo," I whisper as I slice the unconscious cows neck, the blood flowing out the open wound and into a drain. It was the 10,000th animal slaughtered for my specialty shop.
As I begin cleaning up my tools, I hear a noise in the storage cooler behind me. "This area is for employees only," I say as I open the door. Behind the plastic curtains stands a tall, slender man with orange blond hair wearing what appears to be a modern riff on classical Roman robes.
"Would you just chill with the damned sacrifices, man?" He yells as he turns to face me. He has large bags under his bloodshot eyes. His general demeanor appears as though he hasn't slept in weeks.
"What? Who are you?"
"Uh, Apollo. Hello," he gestures to himself. "Every time I think it's fine to get some rest, I hear your dumb ass voice keeping me up. I haven't slept in fifteen years, ever since you opened this shop. I have processed thousands of sacrifices and I'm tired. Somehow in a world that doesnt even believe in me anymore, I managed to get the one follower that butchers hundreds of animals a month."
"I'm sorry, I was just doing it as a joke with my friends. I didnt know you even existed. "
"I dont care, just let me get some sleep, yes?"
I nod.
"Good, thank you," he says, straightening his posture. "Then I'll be going now."
Just like that, he disappears.
~~~~~~~~~~~
*This is my first post here. Be gentle please.*
Edit: typos | At this point, I doubt I could stop saying it even if I wanted to.
It started out as a joke, a little flair I added after reading D'Aulaires Book of Greek Myths. After the first few cows, I started doing it intentionally. In a way, it gave a sense of solemnity to each one passing over, a tiny two-word funeral as my knife sliced through the thick hide. I'd never even imagined that I would keep working as a butcher, but here I was, 4 decades and untold thousands of cows later. Even as my skin begins to sag and my muscles grow ever weaker, my lips still mutter the same words for each animal.
"*For Apollo.*"
Blood splashes out as the first bull sags into its harness, the dark liquid pooling on the concrete before running into the drains in countless rivulets.
"*For Apollo.*"
My knife catches for a second on bone, the cut interrupted. I heave it through, and another beast goes limp, the chains grating as they begin tightening around its back legs.
"*For Apo-*"
As my blade descends towards the neck of the last cow, a of jolt of electricity locks me in place. I can't move, I can't speak. My pulse rushes in my ears as a painfully bright flash explodes somewhere, consuming everything I can see. One of the apprentices, playing a prank with one of the cattle prods. Last one the idiot would ever pull, once I can turn around.
Another crash, and my entire world goes dark. The thud of my body, the splash of ichor, the metallic clang of the knife fill my ears, which suddenly seem painfully sensitive. I take a few breaths, willing my legs to stand. I see nothing, hear nothing but the familiar rhythm of blood dripping onto the floor, amplified as if each drop was a lead weight.
"Who's there? ANSWER ME!"
I would have sworn that I could hear the hum of electrons rushing through wires the instant before the light comes back on, filling the room once again. The sound of the drips gets louder, my own breath sounding like a hurricane in my ears.
The third cow is gone, and a golden-skinned boy is lying in an ocean of blood. | 2019-07-09T07:14:05 | 2019-07-08T23:04:18 | 667 | 98 |
[WP] after millenia of praying, the gods finally answer, only to say that they never created the universe with mankind in mind. Or life for that matter. It is the eternal dance of atoms and elementary particles that the gods consider beautiful. Life is no more than a side effect. | When the gods had first answered, many believed it to be a hoax. Others thought that perhaps it was aliens, who simply were stepping into a title that we had provided. Others threw away their religions like a used rag, and even more devoted themselves to these “new” gods.
They had been watching, they had said. Not us, not even Sol, or the Milky way, but many other galaxies far away from here. They had been visiting each one, ever since they had started all of creation with the Inspiration as they called it – or in modern terms – the big bang.
They were… amused with us. Our feeble attempts to leave the planet. To research the far away stars. They answered any question we asked, and proved time and again that they were the beings they said they were.
One question, asked by millions, was why? Why create us? Why leave us for so long?
They hadn’t laughed exactly, but their responses had been jovial.
They hadn’t created us. They had created the atoms and elementary particles. We were no more than a side effect.
An amusing one, but not intended. No life was.
Atoms dance and move in a never ceasing motion. They combine, they form, and they break from one another in endless patterns. These patterns were predictable yes, but the elegance with which they moved fascinated and amused the gods. In billions of years they had yet to bore of them.
They told us about other life-forms created by the never ending dance of their favorite creations. How on some planets like ours, there were carbon based life-forms. But on others, Silicon had replaced carbon. They told us about watching the birth of a star, the first collisions of hydrogen forming into helium. They told us all about sitting inside dying stars, watching as the last of the atoms smashed into one another, causing the cores to change to iron.
All the wonderous little patterns that the atoms made. They were so proud of each and every one of them. The little groups that formed amino acids, which then paired and formed the helixes of DNA they found fascinating.
We asked “when do the atoms move from objects to life forms?” and they had answered in puzzlement, “they are all alive. That’s what is so fascinating about them.”
In the time after the gods arrived, scientific study increased exponentially. Physics and Chemistry and Biology learned that they were all part of a grander scheme. Mathematics too, became a core point of study, for it was a language in which to interpret the movements of the atoms.
And the gods were happy to watch. For their little atoms were having fun.
r/LandOfMisfits
r/RedditSerials
ETA: Have some dancing atoms
https://images.app.goo.gl/yN1MBavKu2fgXsoq9
https://images.app.goo.gl/qoV1qJ4Tntq39WK46
https://images.app.goo.gl/cWH5T93ktaVKY98X7 | It was a normal weekend. On Friday, the Muslims went to their mosques and asked for devotion to Allah. On Saturday, the Jews celebrated the Sabbath and stayed at home, not doing any work to appease the Gods. On Sunday morning, Christians went to church and prayed to Yahweh, and throughout the whole weekend, atheists didn't do that much out of the ordinary other than stay at home, do their hobbies and be with their friends and family, a break from the ordinary work of the week.
&#x200B;
Monday, however, changed everything. In every home, hut, hotel and many other locations that didn't begin with the letter h, the same sound boomed in many different languages: "We are the great powerful gods that control this universe. It's honestly so beautiful what has been made: stars, planets, complicated weather systems across them all, black holes, galaxies. It's amazing! You may have noticed that we haven't said life. While that is beautiful too, it was nothing that we had expected to happen; just some curiosity that occurred along the way. It's actually a bit funny to see you endlessly devoted to some nonexistent deities trying to get into some fake afterlife. While there is an afterlife, it's actually for green fire ants that live on a galaxy thirty billion light years from Earth. Not you. Sorry."
Then it all cut out. Forever. No longer did the creators of the universe communicate with their creations again. On Earth, nothing changed for the first few weeks as people desperately prayed for another sign from their Gods. But of course, nothing came. After a few weeks, it slowly dawned on humanity that whatever spoke, it was right. Mass panic broke out as many communities' weaknesses were shown where only the glue of common religion has kept them together. Already-secular societies like Scandinavia and other parts of the world didn't change much. While their economy went down due to global chaos, nothing bad happened to them specifically. However, in highly religious areas like certain parts of the Arab world, chaos breaks out. People turn on each other when Allah was the only thing keeping them together. Theocracies crumble under a lack of reasoning behind their laws, and churches, temples and mosques across the world get graffitied and vandalised. Many religious figures get arrested for fraud, despite their insistence that they too believed in whatever religion they followed. In a few places, they get released, but in others they get sent into maximum-security prisons and are never let out. Atheists' lives aren't vastly changed, unless they happened to live in highly religious areas. They just knew that deistic gods ruled over them all, but that didn't concern them because they didn't concern the gods. Religious institutions like charities, hospitals and schools collapse due to a destruction of their common values, and while a few religious extremists still hold onto their views, they don't change much.
Similar events happen across the universe. Two hundred light years away from Earth, a collapse in their belief of the giant Meatball Monster causes entire civilisations to collapse. The surviving ones quickly gobble up the new lands to claim and act as oppressive rulers, delaying the development of that planet for hundreds of years.
Eventually, life on Earth and elsewhere returns to normal. Most religious buildings are destroyed, with the rest kept as cultural heritage before the Great Speaking happened that Monday morning. In their replacement, all sorts of buildings are built: apartment buildings, offices, hospitals, other similar buildings, prisons in certain countries where mass incarceration of priests, imams and shamans occurred. In these buildings, many try to laugh it off at how they got trapped in the building where they were meant to do their God's work. But the world is forever changed. | 2019-08-21T08:39:44 | 2019-08-21T08:22:33 | 342 | 21 |
[WP] You are best friends with Death. Although you don't know this. Every Sunday he has you killed just to talk to you about his week then brings you back to life after. However you never remember the meetings. | I like Sundays.
It's nice. I'm not really sure how to describe it, but it was kind of a soothing time.
For one whole day, I fall asleep. I dream senseless dreams and I never remember them when I awake.
It was just like any other Sunday. I laid out in my bed and I waited for my dreams to come and take me. It didn't take too long.
I woke up. I think I opened my eyes but it made no difference. Darkness.
Then, a visage came out of the shadows. A skull and a hood covering it. Instinctively, I inhaled and almost pushed myself backward. Against my better judgment, however, I... thought I knew it. Death itself.
Death looked at me.
"Old friend. You are back."
"Old friend?" I asked. "I... think I know you."
"You do old friend," Death replied. "Come. Let us not whittle our time away with senseless introductions."
He talked about his week. I talked about what I remembered for my week.
Somehow, I knew a lot of the things that he was talking about. You know those inside jokes that you can barely remember how it came about, but it's just become a part of your vocabulary with your friends? It was like that.
We chatted. We laughed. But it was my time to go.
Death's bony hand touched my shoulder. It was chilling yet comforting.
"Goodbye, old friend. Remember... next Sunday," Death said.
"Of course, Death," I replied.
I woke up. Daylight flooded my vision. I smiled, satisfied. I think I had a good dream.
I like Sundays.
---
r/dexdrafts | Times are hard, masters are no longer taking apprentices, and I have a family to take care of. After much searching, I have finally been taken under the wing of Exder, the town plague doctor. This year, we have been hit hard with something he calls the Whispering Shock. People are beginning to lose their voices, and so they must die in silence. I am not great at medicine like my master, but he keeps me around for my heart. Regardless of their religion, I help the people of our town come to terms with their mortality. Although they cannot reply, I can see the gratefulness in their eye. My only day off is Sunday, and I spend it doing the same thing. I simply sit and read, for it is all I can do, and so I sit this morning. I feel my breath taken from me as I dive into another good book, and the world around me begins to change. I am no longer in my humble home, but within a small chamber on a much comfier seat. My book is gone and across from me is a man I can only describe as cold as ice. Breaking the silence, he begins to speak. "I must thank you Malgus, truly, you have made my life easier than you could have ever imagined." I don't know what he means, I have not met this man, my confusion is clear. "Allow me to explain, I am Death, I guide mortal's to their final place of eternal rest, many of which need great comfort along their journey." I simply nodded my head in understanding, it must be a tough job, but I can only sit in silence, not finding the courage to speak. "I must be a strange sight my friend, I am sorry. I brought you here again to express my gratitude for your never ending amicability. No longer must I spend the journey comforting beings coming to terms with their mortality. You have done that for me. Everyday a new soul comes to me, and I may walk them to their own Heaven with a smile, no longer do they shed the tears of fear or quake in my presence." The silence took great hold of me. Never would I be bestowed a greater honor from any man, than the thanks of that of death. It is a shame it is an honor I will not remember until it is my own time. If it ever comes. | 2020-01-31T07:17:02 | 2020-01-31T07:15:25 | 1,701 | 33 |
[WP]The knight rubbed his eyes in surprise. The great dragon, slayer of armies, appeared to be a young woman with wings. The dragon was equally shocked. "You're the great knight? You're like.....fifteen." "I'm EIGHTEEN....In November" | "Oh great another 17 year old... let me guess they sent you here to claim my head and 'become a man!'" The young woman holding a fist out in mock triumph.
"Well yes... but..." the teen replied starting to disappear into his thoughts.
Seeing his uncertainty the dragon interjected before he could think on the matter more. "But nothing dear, do you honestly believe every man in your village slayed a dragon to earn their manhood?"
"Well... no... I guess not..." The boy, now beginning to see the implications starts to seeth with rage...
Seeing his anger the dragon moves around behind him, loosely wrapping her silken arms around his shoulders she whispers into his ear, "Face it kid, you've been duped, had, made a fool of. At best this is a joke gone horribly awry at worst somebody wants you dead."
At the last word the boy seems to snap back to reality he suddenly steps forward breaking free from the woman's grasp. "No, that can't be! My family loves me. I'm here to slay a dragon and protect them!" His grip on his sword stiffened as he held it out.
Cursing to herself mentally, the dragon presses the issue. "Are you sure? How many men have they sent up here to slay a dragon? How many have come back? Seems a waste of so many lives. They didn't even give you metal armor..." Stepping once again closer to the boy she presses up to his front, one hand brushing his leather armor as it roams from his chest over his shoulder, her other hand gently touching the hand on his hilt.
"I don't know, quite a few..." Thinking it over the boy is too distracting by the conversation and the beautiful woman pressed against him to notice the woman slowly wrapping her arms around him.
*SNAP!*
With that the dragon slammed her jaws shut around the young man devouring him in an instant. A simple illusion is all it took. After all she was so old now even she'd lost count of how many men they'd sent up. Too old really, though she was a dragon, her old bones and joints slowed her immensely, even a young boy such as that one could easily have killed her. But what time takes in agility it gives back in wisdom. That wisdom had saved her from countless "knights" who had charged into her chambers. Savoring this meal she notes that *had* he been wearing metal armor she would have needed a different approach, as her old teeth could no longer pierce or crush such metal. Best prepare for that eventuality, though the village is poor, so it won't be affording a suit of armor any time soon. Walking back to her hoard she notes the boy's sword on the ground, his hand still clenched to the hilt where she'd carefully bitten it off to avoid any accidental mouth stabbing. Now, it would make a fine toothpick. Her massive claw reached down and picked it up with the dexterity of a surgeon as she walked slowly to the back of her chambers and her massive pile of treasure. | In the summer of his Eighteenth year, Breneric Ravenbeard, Heir to the throne of Merician, was dispatched by his father to intervene in the matter of a Dragon bothering the villages.
However, the meeting was not straightforward. Approaching the cave where the dragon had taken shelter, Breneric drew his sword. Within the walls of the cave, Breneric advanced slowly, his eyes adjusting to the gloom.
"And what", a sultry, and bemused, voice rang out "do you expect to do with that? Come into the light, oh brave warrior, that I can-"
She stopped mid-sentence, caught off-guard by the youth of her would-be assailant.
"So this", Bren said, "is what a dragon looks like? I expected something more akin to the paintings."
What he meant, dear reader, is that our dragon clothed herself in a female form, with appropriately-sized wings. "One learns to blend in, my lad," the Dragon-lady said. "I'm more concerned that they sent a stripling of what, Fifteen winters, to end me?"
"SEVENTEEN", Bren was quick to correct her. "And you'll address me no Stripling! I am Breneric Ravenbeard, Heir to the throne of Merician, Son of the Scion of Zachaerion, I am Swarthenboch, I am-"
The dragon-lady rolled her eyes. "Keeper of the keys, watcher on the walls, by my wings these titles get more ridiculous every Hang on a minute, did you mention Zachaerion? And the Swarthenboch?"
Bren grinned Broadly. "Indeed I did! My father is Simonius Ravenbeard, Seventeenth Lord of Merician, that Slew the beast Gharak-Palath!"
The Dragon-lady took a moment to digest this. This... Child, a Swarthenboch? Of the line of Zachaerion? Not that the line were so old as to be of note for any reason of earth-shattering importance, but- "Be that as it may, Princeling, know that I have fought alongside the first Queen of Merician, Aubrey Raven, against the daughter of Gharak-Palath. Can it really be thirteen human generations ago? How Time flies."
She was distracted a moment, as she stared into the distance. "Still!" She snapped back to attention, "I will entertain the emissary of the Swarthenboch. What have you to say, Prince of Merician?"
"I was dispatched," Bren said, "to investigate the reports of a dragon bothering the villages hereabout."
"Sport, no more." the Dragon-lady smiled. "I do hope that I haven't accidentally killed any of those villagers, I've thoughtlessly slain more than my share in life."
"I don't care for your disdain toward human life, Madam Dragon", Bren said, feeling somewhat bolder.
"Neither do I," the Dragon-lady replied. "Oh, I tire of these games! Put away your sword, lad, and direct me the general direction of your father's castle. I would speak with the King myself. Surely a Swarthenboch would find a use for a dragon. Even now, who knows if the Orc Hordes of the West are amassing again?"
Bren didn't entirely trust the beast, but pointed her toward the castle. And for her part, she upheld her side of the bargain, offering her service as penance for any inadvertent deaths.
But the legend of the Dragon-lady, and the tale of Rhatoul-Palath, are stories for another time... | 2020-02-05T05:00:40 | 2020-02-05T04:59:15 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | "LETHAL INJECTION ADMINISTERED," came the automated voice from just underneath the button.
I blinked. Was that it?
"Wait, hold on," I paused and turned towards the priest, "You meant I just spent the last 18 years of my life training for the ultimate showdown just so the greatest evil in the universe could be killed with a few chemicals?"
"Yep," the priest, Dogstar, stretched, "Now that that's over with, do you want to get some breakfast?"
"In a second," I held up hands, stopping everything, "Was that just a test? A trick? Is he really just going to come bursting from the ground and doom us all to hell?"
Dogstar glanced at the ground, considering it, "I doubt it."
I shook my head in disbelief, "No, no, no. I want an explanation. Now!"
The priest rolled his heads and sat down, pulling a flask from his pocket. He took a quick drink then gazed at me with slight contempt. I had a feeling this might take awhile.
"Now look, when this all started hundreds of thousands of years ago, sure it was cool and tough. Quite the spectacle, honestly. The Dark Lord would put on his demonic cloak, cast hellfire meteors at everyone, and it would be absolute chaos. But, his powers didn't really count on the power of industrialization," Dogstar sighed.
"You've gotta be kidding me," I groaned.
"So we thought, 'hey, why not just put him down before he regenerates his body in his tomb, save everyone the trouble?' Now we just kill him before he wakes up."
"And all the training?"
"Well the boys and I like to have a little fun. How boring would it be if all we did was press a button every 5000 years? Sheesh. Liven up."
Unable to process any words, I took a seat next to Dogstar, and fell into existentialism as I revaluated the purpose of my life. Everything was a lie. Done and taken care of. Nothing to worry about. What would my skills possibly be useful for?
Maybe the world needed a new Dark Lord. | 'I have done it. I have pressed the button and defeated the Dark Lord!'
The dimly lit room was illuminated just enough to show the glum faces of the three boys lounging out across whatever comfy pieces of cushioned real estate they could find.
“This film is terrible. Turn over.”
The remote clacked and the channel changed.
“Congratulations, you have given birth to a beautiful … 7 of clubs.”
“Nurse, call security. Dr Blaine has done it again.”
The TV remote clacked again.
“This just in, man who whispers on Zoom calls just has a really small mouth. We go to Andrea with the story.”
Again, the TV remote clacked.
'They called it a bone garden and asked me how many sticks they could buy it for.' - We speak to the Louisiana man who was recently duped in to selling this cemetery to three dogs wearing a trench coat.
Clack.
“I'm Cliff Cliffington and we are entering the Finance Hour - the show where we interview the best young traders the country has to offer. Our guest today has a lot of detractors who believe he earned his money the wrong way. Ron Ronson was indeed born with a silver spoon in his mouth – there's not denying that. And yes he had knives for legs and tongs for hands. His head was a fork and he died immediately after birth but that hasn't stopped the budding entrepreneur from becoming one of the richest pieces of cutlery in America today.”
Clack.
“Today on 'Construction, Construction, Construction' we're at the Bessington Palace renovation where the Site Foreman has a major issue on his hands – a Site Fiveman has emerged.”
Clack.
“And a warm welcome to everyone at home to the 2020 COVID Olympics!” said Ken Kennington. “Whose country is the sickest? Our data scientists are here and we’re ready to turn on some ventilators.”
Clack.
“And we come to you with some shocking breaking news as the famous piece of evidence the 'Smoking Gun' has sadly passed away after years of battling lung cancer.
Clack
“I just don't understand why if you're a, say, Kim Kardashian, you don't opt for a 9mm pistol hand or a shoulder cannon when paying so much for body modifications.”
Clack.
"Hello, and welcome to a very special episode of Rogue Traders. Today we have time traveled back to 1939 France to take an in depth look at the Maginot Line."
Clack.
“And here we have a great example of an employee going the extra mile by wearing two ties to business meetings he's not invited to.”
Clack.
The boys in the room paused.
“Just put that film back on this is getting ridiculous.”
****
My back catalogue of painfully unfunny stories can be found on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them, and leave some judgement. | 2020-11-09T12:50:41 | 2020-11-09T12:10:32 | 949 | 81 |
[WP] Your power heavily relies on music, with the genre, tone and energy playing an important role in how much power you gain. At first, it doesn't sound much of a great power, until you stumbled upon DOOM Soundtrack. | In a family with Super strength, telepathy, mind control and super intelligence, I was like a freak that's never in place.
A power reflect on music. In a family where entertainment is taboo as they "disrupt and pollute minds", and the only music was the intense training on elegance of piano and Violins, I am weak like a baby, my uncles and aunts ridicule me in disguise of concern, my parents and grandparents berate me and called me a total failure worse than having no power at all, and my siblings and cousins outright bullies me with their power whenever there's a chance.
It was unbearable, and school doesn't get any better. The only music I can contact are commercial pop musics that were like blunt sawblades and sandboard to me, making me erratic and uncomfortable. There's no silver lining. My "power" is a curse, a jinx, a nightmare with no way of awakening.
But then came that fateful day. That day, I successfully found a loophole and escaped for some time myself. As I wander the street, a strange tune came Beckoning on me. It was distant and ambient, but I can Hear it beating with my heart. It was thumping and shrieking, filled with anger, But with a rhythm that was like the heartbeat and footstep of an approaching beast.
I walked slowly closer and closer to the source of the sound. It was the Game store sitting in the corner of the street, and the sound was from the advertisement of a Game called "Doom".
As the music become clearer and clearer, it started to pump power into my body. It makes me feel like the force of nature, an unstoppable force. Now I finally found where my power lies. It's not the soft shit made out of suffering to please the people above them, nor is it the assemblyline mass-produced cashgrab. It's here. In Doom. In the controlled anger fabricated out of Real effort.
I purchased a copy of the soundtrack with the money I saved out of all the years, and a cheap music player to play it into my ears.
It's payback time. | As the armies of the underworld marched forward, reMix casually reached into his pocket and lifted out his iPod. He scratched his chin and pursed his lips, deciding what song to listen to. The nightmarish beasts before him wouldn’t go down without a fight.
He raised a figure and said, "aha!"
Since the demons were all mindless beasts, they'd most likely engage him head-on. Perhaps it would be best to simply fight fire with fire?
He’d put on some Doom music, get all charged up, then tear straight through them. Simple.
He opened the Doom OST playlist. Empty. reMix’s eyes widened. Okay. He didn't need to panic. Not yet anyway. So he wouldn't have super strength and near invulnerability. There was more than one way to skin a cat.
Dubstep would do. With superspeed he could cut and weave through the army, cutting them down one by one.
He scrolled to the playlist. Empty.
Classical? Flight would be useful right about now...
Empty.
Energy based attacks would have to do: trance it is.
Empty.
Okay, fuck it: Jazz. Even Jazz is better than NOTHING.
Empty.
The demons circled around reMix. This was getting bad. No music, no powers. And without powers, he wouldn't last two seconds.
Just then, reMix’s phone chimed. A message popped up from his wife.
“BTW, I saw the kids messing with your iPod earlier. Hope they didn’t delete anything! But might be worth checking before you meet the forces of hell. Love you.
reMix felt a knot tighten in his chest. His kid's must have wiped all his songs and put their own on. But what did they replace it with?
The ground trembled as a Cyberdemon charged, casting reMix in a long shadow. No time--if he didn't act soon he was dead. He hit 'all songs' and put on the first thing that came up. Whatever it was, it would have to do.
He put the iPod in its holster and prepared for the music to imbue him with power.
The Cyberdemon raised it’s sword and lunged forward as the iPod began to play.
*Baby shark, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo*
*Baby shark, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo*
*Baby shark, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo*
*Baby shark*
\----
Thanks for reading! If anyone has any criticisms, feedback or tips on things I could improve, please let me know!
Hope you enjoy! Subscribe to [https://www.reddit.com/r/jtb685/](https://www.reddit.com/r/jtb685/) for more | 2020-12-24T05:17:55 | 2020-12-24T04:27:12 | 214 | 70 |
[WP] You're a lawyer who just got a genie lamp. After planning your words perfectly to maximize all your wishes, you summoned the genie, and surprisingly the genie turns out to be your most feared yet most respected person : Your long dead law mentor. | I rehearse the words in my head,
Check the notes scrawled on paper on the bed,
I've written in triplicate on the wall,
No level of precaution too small.
That's always been a habit of mine,
Plan, prepare, waste no time,
It's served me well in my courtroom fights,
And I'm about to lawyer for my life.
The universe, it seems, has other plans,
As I summon the genie with a rub of my hand.
The form from the lamp appears with a flash,
I'm presented with a spectre from the past.
I'd forgotten her face from those years ago,
But framed in blue smoke I definitely know,
The face of my mentor, but an ethereal blue,
And it looks like she recognizes me too.
"Junior!" she says, with some delight,
(For that was my nickname earlier in life)
"My, you've grown old, and I hope wise,"
"If you wish to earn the genie's prize."
I'm speechless for a time and look in shock,
She smiles at me with an eyebrow cocked.
A look I recall I often saw,
When she taught me my fundamental case law.
The look said more than mere speech,
There's more to this case - you're not looking too deep.
The shock hit me with that look,
For as smart as I am, it wouldn't be enough.
I am no fool, and will put ego aside,
My mentor was a far better lawyer than I.
So why, now, was she the lamp's face?
As opposed to sunning herself in some tropical place?
In cunning, and wit she could not be matched,
Yet here she was - rather trapped.
"Listen," she said, and spoke clearly,
"Three wishes, three rules - do you hear me?"
"No immortality wishes, nor raising another,"
"And no making someone into your lover."
"Neither are the genie's wishes free,"
"There's a price to be paid with wish number three."
I didn't say a word, for fear of action,
And sat and thought for a fraction.
Then a lightbulb moment came to me,
As I invented my wishes, one, two, three.
"Genie," I said, "Though that is not your name,"
"Wish number one is simple and plain,"
"I am old now but still have much to do,"
"I wish my body were a mere fifty-two."
Twenty years flew off me in a blue flash,
I coughed and sputtered and couldn't help but laugh,
I had opted not for a wish of too great greed,
An extra twenty years were all I'd need.
"It is done," she said, though she looked concerned,
Perhaps she still feared of what had happened to her,
Was my taking the first wish a sign,
That I'd be next in the Genie line?
No, that wish was my only one,
Twenty years more would be enough to have some fun,
To see my grandchild born and looked after,
And have them spent time with their favourite grandfather.
"Next," I said, and smiled at her,
"I wish you were free from the lamp that you serve."
"No more wishes will you grant,"
"And the lamp itself you will disenchant!"
She beamed a smile at the wording,
"My, junior, you have been learning."
"You saw the loophole I did not!"
"Now fare thee well and that's your lot!"
She vanished and the lamp clattered to the floor,
The magic of the lamp was no more.
I exhaled and knew I had made the right trade.
For with no wish number three, there was no price to be paid.
I looked her up in the years I'd won,
Found her in the tropics under the sun,
We talked at length about days gone by,
And I thanked her mentorship for keeping me wise. | Mr Beh was the last person I expected to see popping out of the genie lamp. I tried to close my gaping jaw but they refused to budge. I wanted to say something but no words formed in my mouth. It was not as if I had no words for this occasion. Years of preparation went into this trip. Researching on the fabled genies, studying like an ox to get into Harvard Law School and finally securing a lifetime mentorship opportunity under Beh Soon Khiang, the famed orator of the East.
My eyes finally found their ability to blink a few times, as my wit slowly returned from the initial shock. The puzzle was beginning to make sense. Laughing slightly, I said to the apparition in front of me, “Nice trick you got there, genie, but you’re not going to fool me. Now show me your true form.”
Instead of the laughter I was expecting, the genie however gave a long sigh. One that I was too accustomed to hearing. During the late nights when we were finishing case notes together, when I made a mistaken observation or blunder in filing my records. “I’m not a trick, Jody.”
I took a step backwards. Jody was the name that Mr Beh had affectionately called me during my tenure in his company. A gentle breeze of wind swept past me and the genie was no longer floating in the air. He was now standing in front of me with his arms crossed behind his back. It was impossible to shake the sense of familiarity that I felt, but my mind refused to believe that the being in front of me was my mentor from all those years ago. The one who trained me into who I was, taught me the tricks of being a formidable debater and detective, the one who set me on the path to becoming the youngest attorney general in history.
“Out of every possible person that I had expected to see, you’re the last on the list, Jody. Why are you here?” the voice of Mr Beh probed. Assuring and calm, like how I remembered it.
My eyes drifted down to the file I was holding. Pages of documents written in contractual language, prepared specifically for this moment. Genies were known to be tricksters, adept at twisting words of those who seek them out into something else. Some say they were in fact the first lawyers and the entire law profession were inspired by them. The lines on the paper were carefully drafted for this specific occasion.
I had imagined a totally different encounter. I had prepared for every single possibility, memorizing all the counter-arguments and clarifications to my wishes in my head. It was supposed to be a duel of wits and words. Looking at the person that guided and molded me in my formative years, all the fire I was extinguished. My hands clutched the file tighter. A single drop of tear escaped from my eyes.
“I failed, Mr Beh,” was all I could muster.
“Oh,” Mr Beh said. He understood my words immediately. It was a story that I had shared with him on a late Monday night, when he was exiting his office. Soon Khiang was not a lawyer known to take in any mentees, the whole industry knew it. But that night, with my knees on the ground and shouting across the empty carpark, I managed to sway the famed lawyer. In Mr Beh’s words, it was my first successful case argument.
“I did not expect you to resort to such desperate measures, Jody,” Mr Beh added.
“I am out of options,” I pleaded. Like how I did on that Monday night decades ago.
“And I am not willing to help you, not through this option,” my ex-mentor added. He snapped his finger and the lamp disappeared from my hands. Only his ethereal form remained. “You’re a talented lawyer Jody and a debate with a genie should not be how you use your skills.”
I shook my head and raised my voice. Of all people, I had expected Mr Beh to understand my plight. “So, what are you suggesting then? I did all that you ask me to, Mr Beh, and that person still walked free!”
Mr Beh sighed another time. His eyes stared longingly at me, before he finally whispered. “I think there’s a way to help you, but I will need to consult the Council.”
Before I could ask him more, a bright flash engulfed the room and he was gone, leaving me alone in the cave. Etched clearly on the walls, however, were the words, “Wait for me to contact you.”
/r/dori_tales | 2021-09-30T10:41:06 | 2021-09-30T09:53:28 | 331 | 157 |
[WP] In a world where reincarnation with a full knowledge of your past life is real, authorities struggle to protect society by keeping the worst criminals and serial killers in prison alive for as long as possible to delay their eventual escape back into society via the reincarnation process. | Ugh. School. Erin had dreaded going there for a while now. But now that she was six and a few months, there was no way around it. Her parents had kept her out of pre-school after one disasterous attempt at age four, but now they'd told her she'd just have to deal with it.
Worthless middle class vermin, blind to reality. You'd think a twice-reincarnated man would be somewhat good at his job, but no, mediocrity ruled her parents through and through. Ugh.
At least it had made her life easy. Especially the first few months after being born.
Reincarnation wasn't easy. A baby's brain wasn't equipped to deal with the memories and experiences hopping over, so reincarnated babies were usually very fussy, very loud, and constantly hangry even when they weren't. Keeping all those feelings from affecting her new life had been challenging, made worse by ten years in near-solitary confinement as a 'dangerous prisoner'.
But it had worked out. After six months, the naive parents and the doctors had been convinced she was just a normal baby. A new soul, or whatever they called it these days. Just like she had been in her previous life.
Honestly, it felt unreal that she'd been able to do as much as she had without the advantage of reincarnation. This time, she wasn't going to fail, and if that meant she'd have to kill even more people to do it or finally start that nuclear war... So be it.
But first... There was something else to deal with. For the first time in five decades, she'd be entering school. A school for the newly born, just like last time. She wondered how much had changed.
Erin touched the three objects hanging on the zipper of her backpack: a small crescent moon, a larger cartoon sun, and largest of them all - though still only an inch and a half or so across - a red planet. It hadn't been hard to fake enthusiasm for the galaxy by age four, leading to a 'big girl' room and lots of toys to go with it. Oh, how little did the fools know of the pact made two decades ago.
The bus was here, and she got on, getting a seat in the middle-back that was empty, preparing to zone out and succeeding until two stops later, when some loud and older boys got on. Thankfully, they went all the way to the back, but a smaller boy followed them, walking unevenly: there was a cast on one arm and his other was holding a backpack.
And he sat down next to her. "Hi!" he said, way too chipper for the hour, but then the bus accelerated, and he hadn't been sitting properly, so he bent forward and barely missed hitting his head and arm on the chair in front. "Ooow..."
Erin pulled him back with all of her non-existent strength. "You okay?" she asked, because that was what little girls did. "What happened to your... arm?"
Three stickers adorned the cast. Full moon. Sun. Earth.
It *had* to be. It couldn't not be. She put her backpack on her lap, turning it so her keychains were visible. And then she waited. And waited.
The boy leant in. "Boss?" he whispered, soft enough you could mistake it for something else.
But it wasn't. | “Well what if their consciousness never died?”
That was the idea at least. Maybe there was someway to… save their memories. Extract them. To remove their consciousness from the physical and upload it to the technological. It had been done in sci-fi. Could it be done for real?
We had no knowledge of how the soul worked in this world. Well, very little. What we did know is that they were recycled. Once a person died, their soul would leave their body and reincarnate in a newborn.
I had lived many lifetimes in this… this… world and finally I might have made a working solution. I punched the air as the machines around me buzzed and whirred. I simply needed… a test subject.
The clouds covered the moon. A man walked down the pavement. The sound of a tin can bouncing echoed across encroaching buildings as the man kicked it with his feet. The road went silent again as I held a cloth across his face. Holding him until he went to sleep. Perfect.
I rushed back to my laboratory and strapped him down to a chair. His screeches pierced the air as I inserted the necessary implements through his cranium. The room flashed a deep red as the power diverted from the brighter overheads to small back up LEDs. The shadows danced as I flicked a switch. Lightning crackled down the wires casting bright flashes of blue and yellow intermittently as the subjects screams faded away. Beautiful.
The solution was slightly inelegant and improvements could be made, however it seemed to be working. I watched a small screen. The world I created, the fake bodies, the fake world I had made. And watched as a child was born. This man, reborn in a new world and he’d never know it. Now his new home for the rest of eternity.
Slowly the old algorithms would be phased out. Replaced by these new ones the complexities of the the human mind. Better ones. Ones that couldn’t properly be imitated. Eventually everyone would end up here. Time wearies all souls. No man can remain good forever.
I had to act quickly. While, at the moment, nothing would seem wrong. The other algorithms weren’t built to learn. I would have to provide more souls. More minds. I realised that I had no conclusive evidence as to whether memories were stored upon upload. Whether you actually retained your past lives knowledge. But I had no way of testing it. It didn’t matter now. The process was too far through. I’d lost track of how many men, women and children I’d heard screaming throughout my lifetimes. 100s, 1000s. Some good, some evil. I didn’t know anymore. All that mattered was they wouldn’t come back to life here anymore.
I worked at it slowly over the next few decades. But one can’t hide a trail forever. I hid the main servers. Somewhere hopefully they would never be found and uploaded victims from remote uplinks. Random without care. This world needed a population. Eventually however, the police caught on. I took my own life before they could find me.
I escaped them for multiple lifetimes but the net was closing in. I couldn’t risk all my work falling into the wrong hands. The system was sustainable. The minds were being recycled, each new generation the algorithms grew. Bigger, deeper. I had made connections in my world, they would maintain project Afterlife, as I had since named it. But it was my time now too. To finally go to the Afterlife, a place they wouldn’t ever find me. I wish this day didn’t ha s to come. But I guess I had to atone for my sins. So I did. I went to the Afterlife.
—————————
70 years later…
I lived in a world where incarnation was possible. I had witnessed it, heard of it. Criminals being captured for life and then simply returning to cause more havoc the next. It was unsustainable. Their consciousness dying and being reborn. It was endless I thought. Until one day I realised…
“Well what if their consciousness never died?” | 2021-10-08T10:45:29 | 2021-10-08T08:51:29 | 52 | 25 |
[WP] You've just been kidnapped by a supervillain. She's not really evil; she's just really socially awkward and had no idea how to approach you otherwise. She even made you dinner! | It's a classic tale, old as time. Boy meets girl.
Girl kidnaps boy.
Girl is a supervillain. Boy is a superhero on a night out.
Mindblade just wanted to relax, have a drink at his favorite bar, meet with his friends. His usual night off duty when he can drop the guard and have a taste of the normal.
She sat next to him, ordered a whisky, downed it as if trying to gather courage for something and snapped her fingers. The bartender froze, his stare empty. Bar went quiet as everybody else also probably froze. Then she slid next to him, getting ready to catch him as if he was about to fall, and looked deeply into his eyes. So, he dropped like a good unpowered civilian he was pretending to be.
Of course he didn't recognize her as Morning Star. He probably wouldn't have even if he was Sharp at the time. Nobody knew what she looked like – or even that she was a woman – and superpowers-wise she was impossible to detect, it was her whole thing. Unseen by default, blinding all the senses, equipment and detection superpowers when she wanted. Though he never had the chance to try to Cut through her defenses.
Until now, that is. Except doing so would reveal himself; he was busy pretending to be affected by whatever she used on him.
She was flying with him slung over her shoulder. He couldn't fly himself, so he had the rare opportunity to see the city lights from above. And also her legs. And her back in her backless dress that he was now sure was held up by superpowers. And also very shapely area between her back and legs.
City sure looked stunning.
\*\*\*
Mindblade pretented to wake up.
He hoped it was appropriate time. He couldn't read her mind, after all.
It was... new. It put him on the edge. A bit.
He heard her nervous voice: "Oh, hey! I hope I didn't overdo it. Can you see me? Is your vision blurry?"
Razor sharp. Diamond cut diamond, it seems. He needed to play along.
"What...? Who...? Where...?"
"Well... How do I say this?"
Morning Star was fiddling with her hands as if she was a teenager trying to ask her crush out. What an absurd idea-
"I wanted to ask you out..."
What.
"...but I don't do well with crowds. And people. And..." she trailed off. "And I got us a dinner? That is, if you want to…?”
He didn’t have to pretend to make a blank stare. Generally, the consensus was to not bother with Morning Star, as they – as \*she\* – never harmed anyone and was pretty much a gentleman – gentle…lady? – thief that only stole from corporations that nobody would cry over and dabbled in some eco-activism. They wouldn’t even know her handle if it wasn’t for that.
Sure, she did blow up that one coal powerplant… or was it two?... But privately heroes were split on that. For example, One Rock was overjoyed and he was all over the whole thing because now the government was forced to accept his clean energy technology. Some were even saying that they should follow in her footsteps and make a real change. Mindblade himself wasn’t sure where he was standing on that.
Right now, he was sure he was silent too long.
“…or you can leave, if you want. I can fly you back, you know…” she said.
“I’m sorry, it’s just a lot… a lot at once to take in. I… I guess I’m up for the food?”
Her eyes light up. They were like stars. Appropriate, he thought.
“Just the food?” she teased.
Oh shit. Ohshitohshitohshit. Play it cool, man!
“Well, maybe also dessert?”
Bravo. There goes his trademark sharp wit. By the end of it he’ll be babbling.
\*\*\*
Mindblade was drowning in her eyes. Everything was going well.
Until Morning Star served the meat.
And, without thinking, all the brainpower focused on making the conversation, he Cut. It was as natural as breathing, after all these years. He still was making the motions to keep up appearances, but why rely on the imperfect edge of a simple metal if his mind was infinitely more sharp?
All happened instantly. Alarm went off. Her eyes widened. And then everything was bright.
“Wait!” he yelled. When his vision came back, he was alone. He reached out with his mind but found only emptiness.
“I’m not attacking! I just forgot myself!”
“You’re… a superhuman.” Her voice seemed to come from everywhere.
“Yes.”
“What are you doing here?”
He hesitated. “I…”
“Oh, for colorless lights, you’re a plant. To figure out where my hideout is. They’re coming for me. I must-“
“No, wait! It’s not like that! Wait...”
“You’re stalling. Goodbye.”
He dropped to his knees, and raised his arms.
“I swear: it’s a coincidence! There’s nobody coming.”
“And why should I believe you?”
Truth, his last defense.“If I wanted to, I would have carved myself out from this mountain. I’m… I’m Mindblade.”
Silence. Then, finally, when he almost believed she left:
“So why haven’t you?”
“There was this dessert we talked about…”
She materialized right in front of him. Smiling that beautiful smile.
“I’m John, by the way.”
“Pleased to meet you, John. I’m Lucy”. | I’d been stuck in many a hairy situation in my time as “the world’s greatest hero”. From getting stuck in an alternate dimension ruled by sentient dinosaurs, to being mind controlled by an alien robot I thought was my friend, to that time I had to kill a giant blue naked guy who thought he was a god.
But none of those instances were as confusing to me as the one I was in now. For one, I was tied up. My paws have destroyed asteroids and punched through atomic super lasers. This must have been strong rope. And then the other major confusion…
I was seated in a dinner table. A table full of fine made Italian food. And my surroundings weren’t an evil lair in the middle of a swamp or a dusty cave or an alien spaceship. But they were in fact somebody’s house. A nice house at that. The furniture was all arranged in feng shui and yet it was clearly lived in. Then my captor walked out of the kitchen.
She was a tall young girl with long curly red hair. Her fall sweater was orange and nearly matched her hair and she wore black sweatpants and fluffy rabbit slippers. In her hands was a bottle of wine that seemed small in her tall frame. She looked at me both confused and a little surprised.
“You’re awake! Oh - oh deer, um… hello Mr. Lionheart.”
“You’ve caught me you fiend. When I get out of this bind you will have no mercy.” I said with a snarl.
“Oh - oh wow, yeah about that… so, my name is Julie. I’m a scientist at STAR Labs - well, more like an intern. But um, like, okay don’t get mad please?”
The girl set down the wine on the table before taking a seat next to me. She fidgeted a bit in her seat, her hands tapping together, her feet shuffling under the table.
“Did you really kidnap me?” I asked in genuine curiosity. The girl blinked then looked away. One of her fingers twirled a lock of her long ginger hair. And was she shaking a little?
“Um… um… um… um okay. So… I don’t know how to start. Okay….” The girl took in a breath. Then she turned to look at me.
Holy chiz. She was blushing. This dinner table. Oh no.
“Miss!” I shouted with a roar. The girl made a squeak almost like a mouse. I startled her.
“Look miss. I am flattered, truly. But I’m a lion, you’re a human, and well my lifestyle isn’t suited for a relationship right now. Not to mention what my pe-“
“I’M NOT TRYING TO DATE YOU!!” The girl shouted suddenly. Now it was my turn to be surprised.
“Oh?”
“Mr. Lionheart, I-I-I-I, I was the one who designed the serum that Dr. Cersei used to weaken your superpowers. That’s why lately you’ve had moments where you black out and go savage. Its not just a quirk, this supervillain used my work to get to you.”
Ah. Now that explained A LOT. It had been only a week but the times Id black out and I supposedly caused vandalism and terror were enough to be a concern. Even those Super Friends and Avengefold guys tried to take me out to stop me. Of course they were no match but it didn’t make me feel good to pummel them to the ground.
“Wow… that damn Cersei using her machinations. Well, Id better go kick her ass and put her in prison again.” I stood up, and the chair still binded to me by rope.
Julie stood up. “A-A-Actually I made this meal so you can be cured. After I shot you with my ray gun it dampened your abilities. And now with the food laced with the secondary medicine it should rid your body of the nanomachines.”
“You made this meal… to cure me?” I looked back down at it all. All of the pasta, the chicken, the bread, and even tiramisu.
My stomach growled. My tongue hung out. For humans that was improper. But for lions? This was custom.
I tore my bindings in one swoop. Julie shrieked as I roared in delight.
“This… is… EXCELLENT!”
I was on that table like I would be on a zebra in the savannah. I’m sure Julie was watching me but I didn’t care. It was free food, who was I to refuse? And if it was a trap, I’d make sure Julie knew not to cross me again. Even if I had to come back from the dead. Again.
When I finished I say back in Julie’s chair gulping down her wine. Julie sat next to me holding the bottle and drinking straight out of it. She seemed a little better now that I’d eaten. Although her table was now a mess of plates, sauce, and other broken things.
“Ooo. This was de-LIGHT-ful. Thank you Dr. Julie. You’d make a great wife if you weren’t human.”
“Thanks… I’ll try and take that as a compliment.” The girl said, again sipping the wine out of the bottle.
I noticed her face was still red. Her eyes a bit glazed. With my biology I couldn’t quite get drunk like a human could (or an ordinary lion for that matter). But Julie seemed a bit inhebriated. She must have been stressed out what with shooting me with her ray gun, carrying me probably several blocks and up a flight of stairs to her apartment, and devising a cure for my problem against Cersei.
“I know what will cheer you up Ms. Julie.”
“Huh?” Julie raised her brow at me.
_____
“Isn’t this fun!?” I shouted over the wind as I twirled through the sky.
Julie was tied to my torso by the rope she had left over and screaming at the top of her lungs. Her arms and legs kicking about as we soared across the skyline of Nuevo Lunes.
“THIS IS INSAAAAAAANE!”
“The height of insanity is true sanity!”
“No it is noooooooot!”
I laughed as we soared by. | 2021-10-21T18:13:38 | 2021-10-21T16:11:45 | 65 | 29 |
[WP] You watch as another timecop stops another time traveling assassin from killing you. You're not sure why time traveler's want to kill you, as you're just a barista working at a corner shop, but something you do in the future must be bad. | In the alley behind the Newton coffeeshop, Merseyside, the young Englishman grabbed the arm of the so-called "timecop" before he could vanish, too.
"Can you tell what I'm going to do that's so bad?," he begged. "Why do they keep trying to kill me?" It wasn't the first time he'd asked.
The agent sighed, "I'm sorry, Sir. I'm sure previous agents have said this, any information could interfere with the future. It's bad enough limiting the damage they are doing just by coming here." Looking at the young man's forlorn expression, he added, "If it helps, you're just a few years from the hardpoint, after that, they'll leave you alone... At least from your point-of-view."
He stepped clear and activated his timewatch. The young man also stepped back and shielded his eyes in anticipation, almost an old hand at this by now. As the temporal flux bubble began to swirl around him, the agent called out, "Oh and good luck on your audition this afternoon, Mr. Astley! Don't worry, as the great man once said, we're never gonna..." The bubble collapsed with a flash, and he was gone. | Hi! For the story skip to the next paragraph. It’s my first try so be kind please? I know it’s not great but it’s what I’ve got so I hope you enjoy.
My tale starts here, in a small town coffee shop with a very tired barista. She got a simple phone call from her boyfriend Jerry, her destined partner, though she didn’t think very much of him at the time. She’ll tell him about the latest assassin attempt on her and he, of course, will laugh at her marvellous imagination.
As she made her way home she called out in that melodious voice of hers, “Jerry! I’m back! Have you made us dinner? I can smell the roast meat!”. Looking around to find him she dialled his number, it was just like him to forget what time she’d be home after all. Thankfully he appeared in the doorway. Just kind of stood there. Still. She was too happy to notice.“Oh! Jerry, there you are! Where have you been and… you didn’t eat dinner without me did you?”. “Not yet.” he smiled. It was a little off. He moved closer, holding his hand out and she took it smiling straight back.
And then he ate her.
He unhinged his jaw and swallowed her whole, no longer human or anything near it. He wasn’t even Jerry. I am. Or I was. Now I’m just a low life thug. Or a high class criminal. Either way I’ll find the shapeshifting time assassin that took my soulmate and take my revenge soon enough but first I’ll have to get through my list of everyone who ever harmed her, or looked at her the wrong way, and for that I’ll need time travel and some very personal camouflage.
I will do anything to get her justice. Even if it means I have to kill the president. | 2021-12-15T18:39:46 | 2021-12-15T14:31:00 | 286 | 20 |
[WP] You found a stray kitten one day, taking her in and feeding her. A week later, you come home to find your yard swarming with cats. The largest among them steps forward and says, "You have my daughter, human. What are your demands for her release?" | Oh, the poor thing. What was I to do, just leave her pawing at the side of a fence? Nonsense. I wouldn't have been able to stop thinking about it on my walk to the Nursing Home, and what a long walk it can be if I'm stuck in my own thoughts.
So I stopped and approached the kitten. She was grey with little brown splotches. Reminded me of the moles on my back, they did. All benign, thankfully. Then, as I bent down, I noticed that her dainty mews sounded awfully like the creaks my joints sometimes made.
Well, I thought, maybe we aren't so different, you and I.
She was hesitant at first. And I understood. By people standards I was rather short and unassuming—I admit I've shrunk a couple inches over the years. But to the kitten, with my long ol' shadow draping her in darkness, I could've been a most dangerous predator. So I stopped the bending-over business. Bad for my back anyway. I sat down in the grass instead so she could see we were on equal footing.
Then she got a little bolder. She sniffed my hand real good, as if searching for bombs. Once she let me scratch her tiny forehead, though, I knew we'd become good friends. And just when I thought I'd lost my game.
Anyway, she was much too thin and dirty to waste time with scritches. I took her back to my house and gave her some water. The way she drank reminded me of my grandson, who would run around in the sun, playing God knows what made-up game, and then come in to down a glass of water so fast I thought he'd drown. Same with the kitten. Had to hold her little head back so she didn't fall into the bowl.
I didn't have much food for her, so I poured some milk in a saucer. I know you're not supposed to. Baby cats aren't baby cows, after all. But she just seemed so happy, I couldn't resist.
Next day I went out to get some real food. Was a bastard to haul home, though, especially with no car. But I managed, despite the rough realization that I'd bought too much. I had to watch her eat while holding a cold compress on my back. And bless her little heart, she was so eager. Cutest thing I'd ever seen. Until it was beat by the way she curled up with me in my raggedy chair; she was like a space heater but not quite so loud.
That was the routine for a couple of days, save a few incidents. Darn little thing had quite a curiosity. As soon as she'd gotten some strength back she showed her daring side. She tried to climb on every little thing she could, and apparently felt that some of my appliances were her mortal enemies.
Having the kitten around made my ol' bundle of boards feel a bit more like a home. I appreciated that. I had to keep an eye on her, but it wasn't all bad, 'cause she got tired pretty quick. Yet another way the two of us were similar. We spent a whole lot of time in my lazy chair, asleep with her stretched across my leg.
The only bad part of having her around was that I couldn't leave in the afternoons like usual. Every time I walked out the door I got worried, started thinking about her. And I knew the walk to the Nursing Home would feel like forever. It was a shame I didn't get to see Debbie as much as I wanted to. Or Sharon, or Joseph, or even that brown-eyed nurse whose name I could never remember.
I normally went at least three times a week. Just to talk. They needed it, being bedridden and always berated by frustrated nurses. I mean, my walk from my bed to my kitchen, to my lazy chair, then back—it's not the most adventurous route. But at least I got to stretch my legs. They didn't even get that. I went to give them some company, as a distraction.
The walk back to an empty house always felt a bit depressing. I was conforming to the stereotype of the sad old man.
The kitten helped with that. But even than, I was like a crazy cat lady, minus the lady part.
On the sixth or seventh day after I'd found the kitten, my routine got even further disrupted. There came a bunch of scratches at my back door. I was asleep in the lazy chair at the time, and when I woke, the kitten was gone. I hopped up, worried she'd gotten out somehow. I walked faster than a twenty-year-old trying to catch the elevator.
...only to find that the kitten hadn't gotten out. She was inside, just staring at the back door and mewing every few seconds. The scratching was coming from outside. I carefully opened the door—and almost lost control of my bladder.
A flock of cats. A swarm of them, or whatever the correct term was. They were a diverse bunch, many different colors and breeds and sizes and such. They all looked a bit ragged, too—though not in a defeated way, more in a rugged survivalist way.
One cat stepped to the front, crossing the threshold and sniffing the kitten a bit. Its fur was darker than hers, nearly black, but it had similar brown splotches. Ideas started connecting in my mind. I'd begun to feel guilty before the cat even spoke.
It narrowed its eyes on me and said, "You have my daughter, human."
It sounded like an accusation—reminded me of the time the grocery-store worker stopped me at the door for stealing, though I'd simply forgotten about the orange in my pocket.
"I suppose I do," I said, and I know I should've been more surprised at the fact that it had spoken, and in plain English, too. For some reason, I'd expected an accent. Either way, I was past the age where I could afford to be surprised.
"What are your demands for her release?"
I shrugged. "I don't have the energy for demands. My voice ain't all that strong anyhow. If you want her back, you can have her."
The cat blinked its razor-green eyes, tilted its head. "That's it? No requests? Normally humans put up more of a fight—though we don't back down!"
A bunch of the cats out in the yard meowed at once. I jumped. What a horrible sound it was, it would've startled anyone. I looked back at the mother cat and assured her, "No fighting from me. Your daughter's all yours." But I sighed and then said something I regretted a moment after: "...I think I'll miss the little thing quite a bit though. I could really use the company."
"Well, I'll be taking her back then, but I'm still watching you for—"
The kitten meowed. The mother cat turned. The kitten meowed again, softer. The mother's ears perked up.
"What kind of food?"
I stood there watching two cats going back and forth. My left foot began to hurt, but oh well, I couldn't very well interrupt a mother-daughter moment.
The dark mother cat looked up at me again. "We will provide 'company' in return for food."
I shrugged, trying to act casual, but I could much stop the stupid smile on my face. "Well, okay. I think I might have some extra to go around" | "Have you located the beacon?"
"Yes. The course has been set for arrival. Estimating one Earth week."
"That is long."
"Yes."
"Yes," Sett responded before terminating the conduit and slithering up the stairs. Gliding into the kitchen on his bevy of tentacles, he stopped at the refrigerator and pulled it open. He selected a jar with violet fluid inside and unscrewed the lid. He messily ingested the liquid before wiping his mouth and tossing it into the sink upon a pile of empty jars.
*Unfathomable*, he ruminated as he slithered into the living room and peered out the window.
*I must live another Earth week among these wretched creatures. They are stinky. They are pink. They excrete their waste into their own waterways. To keep up the act for one more week; it is too much to ask of Sett.*
Suddenly the mail truck stopped in front of his house. A man in a mail uniform climbed out of the doorless vehicle and stuffed a pile of mail into the mailbox before lifting the red flag on the side.
*A normal human would certainly gather his mail at the earliest opportunity. The ruse must continue if even for one week longer. Yes.*
Sett reached for the collar on the sofa and affixed it to his neck before turning a knob and pressing a button. Within seconds, he was wearing his human disguise, and his automatic translator beeped twice to indicate that it was active. He pushed the door open and strolled casually out to his mailbox and retrieved the mail. As he made his way back inside, he noticed a small orange kitten sitting on the doorstep. He stared for several seconds at the animal.
"Get... Get out of here," he said lightly swatting in the kitten's direction. "Go. Go away."
In direct defiance of his order, the kitten turned around and entered the home, and scampered out of view.
"No."
He followed the little mammal into his home and closed the door before tossing the mail in the corner of the room he'd designated for mail. The unopened envelopes triggered a mini avalanche of other month-old mail. He pulled his collar off and tossed it back on the sofa before beginning his search for the intruder.
He didn't have to look long. The kitten was sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, staring up at him expectantly.
"No. You belong elsewhere. Certainly somewhere. Not here."
He reached down and picked the kitten up. It sniffed at his face as he examined it closely, "You are interested in things you do not fully understand. You are like Sett."
"Mew!" it whined as he turned it over and examined it.
"Your hair is fine and pleasing to the touch."
"Mew!" it yelled again as he turned it back around and looked it in the eyes.
"I find many of your traits inherently pleasing for reasons I have not mediated on. Very well. You may stay if that is what you wish."
He set the kitten down on the floor and after a brief pause, it rubbed against his nearest tentacle and purred gently.
"You are motorized. This comes as a surprise to Sett."
He lowered himself and reached out to the kitten, who headbutted his hand and rubbed against the back of it.
"Is this how you show affection? I am a perfect stranger. Could it be that you recognize Sett's greatness inherently?"
The kitten then trotted away with its tail in the air, eager to explore the rest of the house. Sett saw fit to allow the kitten to its own devices. After all, he had a manual to consult. He would need to construct the pylon for the device when it arrived. He slithered down the stairs and across the main room to the workshop. Inside, he found the box containing his instructions and moved past the several manuals he had already consulted to build the other necessary pieces. He grabbed the book as well as the smallest pieces that need assembled and moved to the large wooden desk. After a few minutes of reading, the kitten popped up on the counter, causing Sett to reel backward in surprise.
"Mammal. Do not mistake my surprise for fear. Sett fears nothing."
It curiously prowled the table sniffing at the corners of the book and the small pieces required for the greater assembly of the pylon.
"What is it that they call you?"
"Mew!"
"Myoo. Very well. I shall refer to you as Myoo. Please follow my directives, Myoo. The workstation may prove fatal to you. I would advise a greater degree of restraint when within this room."
He let his many eyes fall back to the manual in front of him and turned a page. Within a few seconds, the kitten wandered onto the page and laid down, tucking its paws underneath itself.
"Myoo. No. I must read."
It purred softly and looked up at him before blinking slowly and resting its head against his hand. He watched the kitten for a few moments as it rested its eyes.
"There are many places you can rest; many places that I am certain would provide a greater degree of comfort. Your choice confuses and infuriates me."
It turned over, exposing its white belly, and somehow purred even louder than before.
"I could simply move you myself. You are light in weight, and Sett is strong," he announced as the kitten rubbed its head against his hand. "And yet I am certain that it would result in mutual dissatisfaction. You may rest here. I will wait."
Several hours passed before the kitten yawned and stretched. It moved off the pages and onto the table, exploring the other gadgets.
"Good. This was the desired outcome," Sett said before resuming his reading. He had only just turned the page when he heard a noise beneath him. He turned his eyes down to the floor to find one of the pieces required for the pylon's construction. He looked up to find the kitten sitting on the desk where the piece once was.
"Myoo. Did you knock my materials onto the floor?"
The kitten looked down at another small piece and batted it onto the floor.
"I am certain now, having observed your most recent action, that you are responsible for my previously misplaced constructing materials. I find this behavior rude and unacceptable. Cease at once, Myoo."
The kitten dropped down onto the floor and began batting one of the pieces around the room erratically.
"Myoo. No. That piece is required for the greater construction of the pylon. Such actions may make that piece more difficult for me to locate at a later time of my choosing."
The kitten picked up the piece in its mouth and hurried out of the room. Sett quickly dropped the manual and gave chase. As he pursued, the kitten hurried up the basement stairs and into the kitchen.
"Myoo. I detect that you may have misinterpreted my pursuit of you as an action of kinetic leisure and excitement. I regret to inform you that this was not my intent. I require the hardware within your oral cavity."
After a few moments, he managed to capture the kitten and pry the piece out of its mouth.
"I have concluded that you are either incapable of understanding my speech or that you simply do not heed me. Do not make this a repeat action or I will be forced to deploy punishment as a corrective action in accordance with your poor behavior."
He set the cat down, and contrary to his expectations, the kitten simply purred and rubbed against him just as it had before.
*Could it be that the creature is capable only of affection? This is not how I expected it to react. It is unlike the humans, who take corrective actions as personal affronts to their character and return the negative feelings that accompany them.*
"Can it be, Myoo, that you do not understand such human concepts?"
"Mew!" responded the kitten.
"If I have mispronounced your name, I fail to understand how."
[Full Story](https://www.reddit.com/r/A15MinuteMythos/comments/rlon8r/wp_you_found_a_stray_kitten_one_day_taking_her_in/)
r/A15MinuteMythos | 2021-12-21T13:26:12 | 2021-12-21T12:37:07 | 1,341 | 212 |
[WP] This year, Santa is unable to reach all of the children on Earth due to a huge emergency. So he pulls out his ace. He calls in all of his favours with the other supernatural beings of the world, bidding them to help him. This is how little Ellie meets Death awkwardly standing in her home. | "I wont let you in!" Said the little girl trying to appear as fearsome as possible standing in front of the door in pink bunny pajamas. It was admirable really, such determination. "I wont let you take my mommy!"
"Im not here for her, little one... not now at least."I said, I knew too well that pained expression in the girl face, of someone trying to face the most important person to them is going away, even after seeing it infinite times I still felt a bit of sadness "Im here in saint Nicholas name, his sled broke down earlier today"
"Saint... nicholas?"
"You know him by Santa Claus I assume. Here, take this. A new bicycle for you, just as you as..." before I even finished my sentence the girl broke down crying and screaming
"I DIDNT ASK FOR A BICYCLE! I ASKED FOR MY MOM TO GET BETTER!" She howled, hands still clutiching the door frame and tears streaming down her face "I WANT HER TO BE BETTER to teach me to ride it!" The last words broken down by her sobs.
I wanted to hug her, to say that I was sorry and that I cannot change fate, but it wouldn't matter, she wouldnt hear me. "Santa cant do this, and neither can I... Im deeply sorry my child"
"How you cant? YOU ARE DEATH! KILL! HER! CANCER! THATS WHAT I WANT" each word marked by a stomping feet of frustation. It sounded so simple, so hopeful, truly wonderful the mind of a child is. And as much as I wanted to do so, to snap my fingers and say that it was done, sinply as that, I just cant... I too wish not to take her loved one, but it is needed, only with death may life flourish in the world.
"I cant... her name is in my list, and my job is to take those in there... Im sorry..." A note of sadness escaping from my lips. The names appeared and I guided those souls to the afterlife, I did it since the first bacteria died and I would do so until the last start blinked out.
"Them show me, I want to see it." her right hand was outstreched, tears finally drying in her eyes.
I gave it to her, a scroll of papyrus so old it looked as if it would turn to dust just by being looked wrong, she looked at it intently, as if following the trace of the letters with her left hand finger. I gave her time to take it in until she gave it back to me.
"You take all those that are in the list, right?" She said strangelly hopeful given the situation.
"Yes I..." I looked at the list and understood, a few names above her mother's one, there was two words scribbled in green crayon 'mom's camcer, now'. Many tell tales about fooling me with crazy schemes and games, but in all existence none had tried something so simple, not had three words carried so much hope. I didnt know if I should, but before I could reconsider the words poured out of my mouth "I do, my child. In fact there is something I need to take inside your house, may I come in?"
The kid cried again. Now of hapiness, judging by how she hurried me across the house into a bedroom, there laid a woman so thin, the only difference between us was the skin that enveloped her. She sleeped soundly, her chest barely moving, a terminal patient sent to spend Christmas with her daughter.
I streched my hand out and those rebel cells dissolved into smoke, entering my robe like the souls of all things that had no rationality to walk by my side. The girl looked at it in awe, i wondered if she saw the same as me. "It is done my child. Now leave her to rest, and you should do the same"
"Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU..." repeated Eliie behind me as I walked outside. She was beaming with the happiness only those that saw me go away alone had, I did not know if what I did was right, in a way it definetively wasnt, but I followed me orders to the letter, 'take those in the list with you'. And even if I wanted to wonder about what could come of this, there were many more names in my list and in thebone saint Nicholas gave me, too many for me to lose myself in tought
"Good bye, and good night young one, I hope not to see you soon." I said after exiting her house, truly hoping that those last words really became reality.
Im not a native english speaker and typed this in my phone, so sorry for any mistakes. | I looked at the letter again. Is he serious about this? He has one job, I sighed.
Well a favour is a favour i swiped my hand distorting space and stepped into his workshop.
Elves rushed around in a panic, none of them even noticed me. I reached out and tapped one on the shoulder. The young elf looked at me and blinked a few times “di.. di..di..” he started to mutter as he began to shake.
“Um, I'm just looking for your boss.”
The elfs eyes shot wide open at this and he's breathing became more rapid.
Oh no i thought seeing the numbers above his head start to shrink.
I stretched my hand out to steady him but he took a step back bumping into another elf
“Hey,” the other elf said, then let out a scream as he noticed me.
Pretty soon everyone in the room was looking at me. I clutched my scythe and tried to work up the courage to say something I was very rarely in a situation like this.
“What is going on in here, why is everyone just-” an older elf said entering the room.
“Oh, I see well, Mr death sir right this way. You all can get back to work now,” the old elf said, gesturing for me to follow.
All too glad I followed him to a different part of the workshop. Nick was standing around a group of older elves all of them talking animatedly well shuffling papers around.
“Ah I'm so glad you could make it” Nick said smiling as i walked up.
“I'm really sorry about this but well there's a big accounting issue that's come up.”
“Accounting?” I said.
“Yes, can you believe it?”
“Can't you just leave that for tomorrow?” I asked.
“Oh no, there's no chance of that,” he said with certainty.
“um, well ok then” I said.
“Now delivering presents is easy, Benny here will help you out.” a young elf stepped forward saluting.
“I have to get back to it now, good luck friend.”
I stood in silence looking at the elf.
“So what do I do?”
“Oh, yes of course sir” the elf started enthusiastically telling me all about it with excitement in his eyes. It all sounded pretty simple and easy, hardly any trouble at all.
I hoisted the sack on my shoulder “good luck and merry christmas sir.” the elf said, giving a salute.
I Paused i thought he was gonna come with me at least for the first few houses.
“..Thanks” I said with a shaky voice.
Why was I so nervous? I quickly wiped my hand and stepped forward.
The house was completely quiet. I crept forward ok focus this is gonna be easy now I was supposed to find a tree and ah, there it is.
After unpacking the presents I felt a surge of confidence as I turned I noticed a table with milk and cookies. The elf talked about this. I stepped forward. I suppose I could enjoy a cookie. As I picked up the cookie though i noticed that a piece of string was attached to it. What was this all about?
The piece of string toppled a bunch of dominoes and somehow that released a marble that slid down a ramp and flicked on a flash light. Well that was interesting to watch but.
I heard a gasp behind me.
“it's santa.”
I turned. A little girl stared at me for a second, “you're not santa,” she said.
“No…i'm not” i said as panic shot through me what was i supposed to do now.
“Wait, is that Santa’s bag?”
“Well it's one of them.”
She ran up to me then spotted the presents under the tree.
“If you're not Santa then why are you delivering presents?”
“Well there was an emergency and ah-”
“Emergency. Wait, so does that mean you'll be delivering the presents instead of santa?”
“Yes but but well-” I stepped to the side trying to walk away.
“That awesome take me with you,” she said, stepping in front of me.
“Well now I can't do that.” I tried passing her again.
“Why not?'' she said, stepping in my way again.
Why wasn't she scared at the sight of me?
“It wouldn't be proper.”
“But in the movies if they catch Santa he takes them on adventures,” she said, stepping even closer to me.
“Adventures?” I asked.
“Yes it's in all of the Christmas movies.” she said, crossing her arms.
“Movies?”
“Yea.”
I thought back to the last movie I watched. It was when Phil Weber quietly died in the cinema his last wish was to finish the movie and well that movie had nothing to do with christmas.
So I looked down at the girl, she seemed like she was telling the truth.
“Ok then but we should hurry, I've been here for a longtime,” I said, finally stepping past her.
“Yes!’ she shouted jumping up in the air. | 2021-12-25T18:10:30 | 2021-12-25T16:59:56 | 315 | 47 |
[WP] Mira noticed her backyard soil turned a slight purple, assumedly from her new fertilizer. Her vegetables tripled in size. One day, she checked her lettuce heads, and saw an alien face popped up amongst them. "Your garden is built on our soil. If you wish continue, we have requests" | Mira stared into the dark rounded eyes, framed by lettuce leaves and specs of dirt on it's milky green skin. The green complimented the purple quite well, in a bizarre way that only aliens can.
"You're in my garden." She stated, flatly."I am." It's head glistened as it spoke, sticky with a snail-like consistency."And you're a... what, alien?""...to this planet, yes.""I see." She stepped back, lifting her head and scanning her cucumbers and basil bushes for more unidentified guests. Her fences were tall enough for regular privacy, but Mrs. Fielding next door had a bad habit of interrupting nice summer days with stories of children and cats that have fled the nest. Frankly, Mira thought, talking to her lettuces would be just the tantalising controversy the community needed; especially after Mr. Smith's son was caught smoking under the slide in the children's park.
"Come in," She grabbed the alien being, a wet slopping slap as she grabbed it by the head and pulled. With surprising ease, the alien lifted from the ground and grew, long gangly limbs appearing one by one; like a cat had attempted to draw a human being. "before the HOA see you."
It was difficult to fit the alien into her living room, difficult in the bizarre way shoving a long, thin sticky alien onto an IKEA sofa can be. It was hard to tell how it felt.
"Human," it started in a clogged, gargled manner. "we need your assistance.""...okay..""We have questions - what do you do with these.. giant balls? Are they weapons?""... lettuces?" She held back a laugh. "The things in my garden?""...le...tt..uhh..says.." It produced a box like device, laying it on the coffee table. It looked comically out of place in Mira's cozy but outdated home. From it sprung hieroglyphs made of long sprawling lines intertwined. "Lett-uhs-es."She watched with hesitation. "... Well, they're... vegetables. We eat them. For.. food. Let me show you!" She bounded up from her sunken arm chair. "Stay right there, I have leftovers from last night. I made a pretty good Caesar Salad."
The alien sat quietly, making only small goopy noises as it's giant eyes blinked in the bizarre way only aliens can. Rattling of various pots and pans, clattering and general movement emanated from the kitchen before Mira reappeared - tupperware in hand. She opened it, stepping toward the alien. "Try this, put it in your... mouth?" She inflected like it was a question, but sounded more disgusted by what else the orifice could possibly be.
The alien took a handful of caesar salad. Fresh greenery and beautifully seasoned chicken falling between it's thick oily fingers, it slurped the meal into it's gaping maw. The dark circles widened - staring straight at Mira. A shiver down her spine, her face heating up. Had she made a mistake? Her arms felt heavy, chest and head pounding. Fuck.
\~\~
Mira's garden was buzzing with life, more than ever before. Lettuces twice the size of the average human head, cucumbers that put even the most well endowed to shame and the thickest, longest carrots possible. Her house, however, was more so.
Her kitchen, a reasonably sized room, had around 6 long, gangly beings sat at the dinner table. Big round eyes trained on her as she appeared, aprons in hand. "Today's lesson will be on preparation - how to properly cut and store all your ingredients. No throwing knives, no licking knives and no stabbing your neighbour."
She turned to her students, wild eyed and beaming - vibrant.
"So lettuce begin." | The creature blended almost perfectly with the gargantuan lettuce, so well that I had poked its eye before noticing it was not part of the surrounding vegetation. At least, I assumed it was an eye. It could have been one of those big false eye spots like an Orca whale had.
The thing in my garden made a noise like a cross between an angry chicken and a drain sucking down the last bit of water in a bathtub. I dropped my gardening rake and leapt back in shock, which seemed to be the best reaction at the time.
"STEVE!!!" I shouted, hoping my husband would hear me over the cacophony of the football game on his TV. "HELP!!!"
The thing that was definitely not lettuce spoke. At least, I think it was trying to speak. It sounded like a foreigner speaking heavily accented English while trying to impersonate a cartoon character.
"Human", it said. That much I could make out. My blood ran cold as I realized the gravitas of the situation. This thing wasn't human itself. I had just heard a non-human voice say a word for the first time!
Well, as long as you didn't count a parrot. My cousin Janice had a parrot that could talk, but it mostly swore and replicated what was undoubtedly the louder parts of her sex life. None of it was what I had wanted to hear from anyone, much less a bird.
The thing in my garden was still trying to speak, or maybe it was trying to bite me. All I knew was that its mouth parts were moving, and awful noises were coming from it. I could make out the occasional sound that could have been a word, but I was too petrified to try to decipher it's guttural dialogue.
I heard a percussive snapping sound behind me, louder than anything I had heard before. Instantly, the creature's head exploded, spewing a thick purple goo behind it in a cone shape. My ears were still ringing when Steve grabbed me in a one armed hug, the other still holding his hunting rifle.
"Are you ok?" He asked me, in the same calm tone that he may have used when asking a flight attendant for another ginger ale. All I could do was wrap my arms around him and begin crying onto his shoulder.
"What..." I sobbed onto his Chinese knock-off Jay Cutler Chicago Bears jersey. It was the only thing I could say.
Steve hugged me tighter. "Lets just get inside and wait for Animal Control. They said they'd be here in 10 minutes, and the Bears are only down a field goal."
I nodded into the old jersey. It smelled refreshingly like Steve, like his aftershave and small beer stains and the flavored pretzel bites he loved so much. I think he had the honey mustard ones today, judging by the smell.
Steve guided me inside and closed the door. "Maybe you should go shower", he suggested. "Get the dirt and sweat and purple goo bits off of ya. It'll help calm you down". With this sage bit of advice, Steve sat heavily back down in his favorite recliner in front of the TV.
I heeded his advice, and walked to the master bathroom.
-----------------------
Animal control arrived 20 minutes later. Two heavy set men emerged from the cab of the truck, much to the delight of the overworked front suspension. They waddled around the side of the house and paused when the gruesome scene was revealed.
Purple soil encroached out from a small garden in the back of the yard, with absolutely massive heads of lettuce emerging from the strange soil at the center. A crumpled mass lay in the very middle, deflated green skin and a cone shape of purple bits sprayed out behind it.
The two men glanced at each other. One pulled out a pair of heavy duty rubber gloves, and the other unfurled a heavy duty trash bag. They closed the remaining distance to the site of the body, and began to unearth the rest of the corpse. Once freed from the earth around it, the men lifted the body into the bag, sealed the end with a large drawstring, and hoisted the bag onto the container on the back of their work truck labeled "Biowaste".
As the animal control truck pulled away, one man turned the radio to the local sports channel. They made the return trip listening to the host complain about the Bears and another disappointing loss.
r/SlightlyColdStories if you want more. If you don't, go anywhere else. Or stay right here. You do you. | 2022-05-22T09:09:51 | 2022-05-22T07:13:42 | 45 | 29 |
[WP] Making a deal with a demon requires a soul, everyone knows that. It’s usually a bad idea, but you’ve got a crazy idea. Earlier, you traded your lunch money to the school bully in exchange for a paper that stated you now owned his soul. You’re about to find out if demons consider this a valid co | “ሚስጥራዊ መልእክት ሚስጥራዊ መልእክት ሚስጥራዊ መልእክት” I spoke, as the pentagram in front of me began to glow a deep brimstone red.
“LORD AHMAHAREK! HEED MY CALL” I yelled.
Suddenly, the candles all around the circle lit instantly. But instead of an orange and yellow fire, they were all some variation of black or red.
As soon as the last candle lit, the pentagram cracked along the star lines, and the pieces began to crumble and fall into a new pit. I looked into the new hole, and found it went forever, until, I spied a person… no, a demon flying upwards out of it. I pulled my head back just it time for the black horned, pointed tail, leathery winged creature to reach the surface. It let out a dramatic bellow, and suddenly… nothing.
All the flames, the lights, the noise, all stopped at once, the pit filled itself in, and the demon landed and retracted all it devilish details. All at once, the ritual ended, and all that was left was me and a well dressed man in my moms basement.
“It… it actually worked!” I said with glee.
“Aha, yes, I’m here. My name is Ahmaharek, but you can just call me Aaron.” The man replied.
“Aaron, gotcha. Uh, ok, right to business, I summoned you to make a deal.” I said.
“Obviously. What can I do for you Chris?”
“Wh… how did you know my name?”
“Oh please, I know a lot about you. You’re picked on at school, you’ve got bad grades, your mom yells at you, and you’ve got that rash on your inner-“
It cut him off “ok, ok. so that must also mean you know why I summoned you.”
“HA. No, unfortunately I do not. I can infer why, but I can’t read thoughts. So my guess is that you want me to fix all your problems right?”
“Uh, well sorta. What can you offer?”
“Well, I can give you a book of deeds. Essentially, it’s a book that has information on everyone you meet. But not just birthdays and favorite colours, but also ways you can exploit them. Weaknesses, trigger words, guides on how you can ruin, or improve their lives.”
“Woah, so like, how I could get revenge on my bullies?”
“Right on the nose there kiddo. Not just that though, it’ll also have info for you to profit off their destruction, take from them, make their life a living hell. The only thing I ask in return for it, is something really insignificant. A soul.” Said the demon in a disarming tone.
“Ok… well what if it’s not *my* soul?”
“What do you mean?” Said the demon, puzzled.
“See, I have this paper saying that I own my bullies soul.” I pulled out a rolled up paper from my back pocket.
I continued, “today at lunch, my bully signed this in exchange for my lunch money.”
I handed the demon the unofficial contract.
“Let me see.”
The demon pulled out a pair of reading glasses, and went over the paper.
*This document states hereinafter that Chris Lonan is the eternal owner of one’s [Signed Name]’s eternal soul. From this point forward, the soul of [Signed Name] is under the direct ownership of Chris Lonan, and may be used in any capacity that the new owner may choose.
Signed: [Signed Name]*
“Hmm, I think this could work, but you’d need to get it notarized.”
“Notarized? You mean like at city hall?”
“No no, by a high raking demon, like Beelzebub, or Asmodeus. Hell, even Satan himself. I could help set that up, but you’d need to be the one to have it officiated, I can’t do it for you.”
“Oh! Ok, so then… how do get one of them to notarized it?”
“Haha, leave that to me.”
*2 days later*
Waiting in line at the demonic registry. Not exactly how I thought I’d be spending my weekend. Although it wasn’t exactly how I thought it’d be. Instead of death and fire, it looked like just a normal registry. Turns out that once humans started licensing drivers, hell realized that humans were leagues better at torturing people by waiting in lines than they were. So there I was, waiting for hours to get my contract officiated.
Finally once I got to the front, I handed the demon behind the counter my contract.
I said “hi, I need to get this officiated.”
The demon looked over the contract. Then he said “Alright, seems legit. Just a few standard questions before. What’s the purpose of the contract?”
“Uhh, ownership of someone’s soul.”
“Ok, was the contract signed on a blood moon?”
“No? I don’t… what?”
“Ok, do you have a soul carrier license, or other valid permit that allows the ownership of 2 or more souls?”
“Do I… do I need that if I’m a human?”
“Ugh, yes. you’ll need to go stand in the blue line. Get a 2 soul permit, then come back.”
“What? No I just waited 2 hours to get here. Can’t I just get the permit here?”
“Sorry, this is just notarizations. NEXT!”
“Oh come on, that line is like twice as long!”
“I said next. Move along.”
God damn it. This really is hell. | James placed a hand on his chest, "no lie, I'll give you 20$ if you just sign here."
Laurence scoffed as he read the paper. "Dude, is this your way of hitting on me?"
James inspected the page, it *could* be considered a confession of love. Yet that interpretation left James wondering to Laurence's perspective on romance.
&#x200B;
"The one who signs this page has sworn there soul to me in exchange for material wealth."
&#x200B;
James was of the mind that that said it all. Laurence made a shooing gesture.
&#x200B;
"Beat it, I ain't playing your games," the older boy said turning his back.
&#x200B;
"Oh\~ are you afraid?" James needled, looking away as Laurence leveled his stormy gaze at him.
&#x200B;
"Jeze dude, knock it off, or I'll just beat your ass and take the money." Laurence glowered.
&#x200B;
"So, you DO, want the money?" a chink in the armor, James said as he glanced down at the other boy's worn shoes.
&#x200B;
"Daddy does not pay you enough hm, spends to much on his drink?" he pressed.
&#x200B;
Then a fist connected with his skull. The world went white for a second, then he was in pain. His vision cleared as he held a bleeding nose, watching Laurence stomp off up the staircase.
&#x200B;
Holding his nose he turned to his left shoulder where his little visitor sat. A crow with six eyes and the face of an old woman on its chest... Witch he guessed made it a crow with eight eyes.
&#x200B;
"That didn't work," he grumbled to the demon, she cackled from her crows mouth, "FOOLISH."
&#x200B;
The hag face spoke then, "your time grows short *young master.* You must pay us soon."
&#x200B;
"I'm trying," he said with the frustration clear in his voice. He hated the way it made him sound so young. He wanted to be cool and unflappable, but he would settle for being able to sling fireballs and warp the minds of mortals.
&#x200B;
"Trickery would not work anyway," the hag face said as if it would comfort him, the crow head interjected "CHEAP TRICK."
&#x200B;
Indigent, James glared at the demon, "why did you wait until *after* I tried that to tell me?"
&#x200B;
"To make you desperate," she grinned, "DESPERATE," the crow agreed.
&#x200B;
He *knew* he should not trust demons, but still... it felt like he was having the rug pulled out from under him all over again. "I can't mind control them into signing, I can't even trick them into signing, and... and you did not tell me this because you want something from me? I thought we had a deal!"
&#x200B;
The crow head cackled more and the hag's grin was the last thing he saw of the demon before it faded to shadow. Her voice haunting his ears, "four more minutes James E. Dean. Four more minutes and your soul is mine."
&#x200B;
He knew what she wanted. Knew the cost of it. His hand went to the hilt of that gleaming dagger at his waist. The one that all the teacher's and student's eyes glided off of whenever he tried to show them. She wanted a soul. Not the soul of a monster. The soul of a human. And here he was sitting in a shadowy corner of the school. Nose bleeding, the offender stomping to his room... where he would be alone. It had been a set up. He was angry now, desperate. Four more minutes? Where had that time limit come from. He knew that he needed the souls today... but he had figured that midnight would be his deadline.
&#x200B;
Figures, he should have read his *assignment* more closely. His fingers closed around the hilt of the blade as his heart raced. Could he do it? Yes. He would have to break his self imposed rule of not using magic in front of others, but then he supposed his target would not live to spread any rumors. He could blast the door of Laurence's dorm room open, storm in and impale him to the cross-guard before he knew what was happening. He could even just command the lock to open for him.
&#x200B;
His blood dripped down his lips as James climbed the stars, not letting himself consider anything but possibility as he moved.
&#x200B;
He drew the knife, and marched.
&#x200B;
All of this because he wanted a little power. A little bit of magic to spice up his life. It was not worth it, guilt filled his belly, but he knew what he *had* to do. The world would miss neither of them if they died here... so he chose to preserve himself.
&#x200B;
He kept hoping someone would find him, stand in his way at a threshold. Ask him what was wrong, rebuke him, but his path was clear. He stepped before Laurence's door, silently commanding it to open with a flick of his wrist and a muttered, "OPEN."
&#x200B;
And there he saw a boy sprawled out on his bed, shoes still on, pillow over his face, and the light and fan on. His chest rose and fell with tremors. And James felt a moment of panic. He had caught the other boy in a moment of weakness. Why was he crying? Did he know what he was about to do?
&#x200B;
James shook that thought from his mind as he fought the urge to flee, knuckles going white on the dagger. He reached out and smothered his targets mind with a fist. Laurence went still, his breathing now steady with sleep.
&#x200B;
James had felt it as he brushed his mind, regret, a feeling of inescapable guilt. Fear for the future. Hatred for himself. Too close to his own mounting feelings.
&#x200B;
He lowered the knife. It clattered on the wood. Blood dripping from his hand. His sobs echoed down the hall...
===== | 2022-05-24T14:15:12 | 2022-05-24T13:11:38 | 455 | 69 |
[WP] Death sighed. He always hated seeing the end of a species, and today he would collect the soul of the last human. | MR AYWADE
The man jumped slightly, not expecting to hear a voice in his solitary chamber; only, it wasn't so much a voice as... something he heard inside his head, cold and grim, but not dispassionate. Turning, he saw a tall figure in a dark cloak wielding a scythe. Squinting, he saw the skull beneath the hood. Of course.
"Was wondering when you'd show up," he rasped. His voice was old and tired, no longer used to speaking. It was 4 years since his last crewmate died.
APOLOGIES IF IT TOOK LONGER THAN COMFORTABLE, Death said. I HAD TO WAIT FOR YOUR PROPER TIME.
"Of course, of course."
BEAUTIFUL ROOM.
Mr Aywade looked around his quarters; he'd spent almost all his time here as of late. It was luxurious with any comfort you could think of but most notably, it had the largest window on the ship. He'd often just sit by it and... watch the cosmos fly by.
"Can't beat a view like that, huh?" he smiled. Together, they looked outside. A neutron star was visible in the distance providing a sight few could enjoy.
"I'm the last one, aren't I?" he said solemnly. "The last human, I mean."
YES.
"Was it... was it worth anything, really? All the conquest, invention, suffering, love, we still all died."
THAT IS NOT FOR ME TO SAY, MR AYWADE. BUT...
"But?" Mr Aywade turned.
YOU DID INVENT CURRY. I'D SAY THAT ALONE IS WORTH IT.
Mr Aywade laughed.
"Will it hurt? My death, I mean," he asked with a hint of fear.
YOU ALREADY DIED, Death noted.
Mr Aywade's eyes turned wide as he looked down and saw his own body sitting in a comfortable armchair, his now lifeless eyes forever gazing out into the universe. The shock subsided rather quickly and he only smiled. A good position to die in, he thought.
"So... what's next? For you?"
I BELIEVE I'LL TAKE A VACATION UNTIL THE NEXT ONE, Death said calmly.
"The next one?" Mr Aywade asked curiously. Death turned to him and despite the utter lack of features on its skull, he somehow felt that it smiled.
DO NOT WORRY, MR AYWADE. I'D HATE TO SPOIL THE SURPRISE. | He found her at the end of the universe, only seven hundred years old, seated on the throne of the King who previously ruled this half of the universe. She looked tired, but her eyes intensely stared forward to him, and he immediately knew she could see him. Her heavy armour hung into her, pretty much in pieces, and Death could see some of the scars that were on her. She didn't seem surprised to see him, so he walked slowly up until the throne.
He spoke, but did not open his mouth. He intended to communicate, and so he did.
"Ruler of The Kindred, the Great Rebeller, Traveller of all Existence in Space and Time, and the one all life calls Death, I have come for your soul."
She immediately knows the language, but she is tired, so she uses the very first tongue she learned, a Germanic apha-numeric language from her mother-planet.
"Then take it, if you can. I have no time for your preambles."
"But I do" He said. "Your life is a life of destruction to the point of reconstruction. Hopelessness to the point of new hope. No structure of life exists outside the carnage you have wrecked. You have killed planets, even your own. Terra-formed species for your own curiousity. Even your own body has not survived your -"
"Measure your prattle or I will measure it for you. State your question."
Death stays silent for a second or two. He knows no harm can come to him from her, but her very spirit screams otherwise.
"Why?"
"Why are you here?"
"To take your soul."
"Why?" She asks. Death controls his impatience. He wants the answer, but he knows he will demand it if she continues her impertinence. He speaks, his voice lower than before.
"Because it is my duty."
"Why?" She had leaned forward, and Death can tell this string of questions is close to an end.
"I was made to take souls."
"There we go." She leans back. "I was also born to take souls. The only difference is intent. It is not from duty. It is just from curiosity."
There is a heavy silence in the room, broken by her immediate shout. "Come on! Take me! Do not make me wait!"
"Very well. You know what you must do."
She nods, raises her hand, thrusts it into her chest and pulls out her breathing unit. She throws it to the side and sits. She must have been suffocating, but you could not tell from her face. She immediately grows cold, and her eyes slowly lose the life they had before. She slumps onto the chair, and she is gone.
A black cloud comes from her, and Death raises his hand, guiding the cloud to it. It floats slowly, gliding into Death's left index finger, and he sucks it in.
He looks around, and a palace built by the one known as the Good God, the King of all the Living, and there is now nothing here. He takes his last look, and leaves in the blink of an eye.
The Age of Destruction is over. | 2022-07-11T23:00:39 | 2022-07-11T22:33:19 | 71 | 22 |
[WP] Death sighed. He always hated seeing the end of a species, and today he would collect the soul of the last human. | MR AYWADE
The man jumped slightly, not expecting to hear a voice in his solitary chamber; only, it wasn't so much a voice as... something he heard inside his head, cold and grim, but not dispassionate. Turning, he saw a tall figure in a dark cloak wielding a scythe. Squinting, he saw the skull beneath the hood. Of course.
"Was wondering when you'd show up," he rasped. His voice was old and tired, no longer used to speaking. It was 4 years since his last crewmate died.
APOLOGIES IF IT TOOK LONGER THAN COMFORTABLE, Death said. I HAD TO WAIT FOR YOUR PROPER TIME.
"Of course, of course."
BEAUTIFUL ROOM.
Mr Aywade looked around his quarters; he'd spent almost all his time here as of late. It was luxurious with any comfort you could think of but most notably, it had the largest window on the ship. He'd often just sit by it and... watch the cosmos fly by.
"Can't beat a view like that, huh?" he smiled. Together, they looked outside. A neutron star was visible in the distance providing a sight few could enjoy.
"I'm the last one, aren't I?" he said solemnly. "The last human, I mean."
YES.
"Was it... was it worth anything, really? All the conquest, invention, suffering, love, we still all died."
THAT IS NOT FOR ME TO SAY, MR AYWADE. BUT...
"But?" Mr Aywade turned.
YOU DID INVENT CURRY. I'D SAY THAT ALONE IS WORTH IT.
Mr Aywade laughed.
"Will it hurt? My death, I mean," he asked with a hint of fear.
YOU ALREADY DIED, Death noted.
Mr Aywade's eyes turned wide as he looked down and saw his own body sitting in a comfortable armchair, his now lifeless eyes forever gazing out into the universe. The shock subsided rather quickly and he only smiled. A good position to die in, he thought.
"So... what's next? For you?"
I BELIEVE I'LL TAKE A VACATION UNTIL THE NEXT ONE, Death said calmly.
"The next one?" Mr Aywade asked curiously. Death turned to him and despite the utter lack of features on its skull, he somehow felt that it smiled.
DO NOT WORRY, MR AYWADE. I'D HATE TO SPOIL THE SURPRISE. | The alarm screeched a shrill tritone and roused Evan from his sleep. He felt the rush of air escaping the cabin and heard the alarm getting quieter by the second. The Porphyrion's hull must have been breached by a micrometeorite. He scrambled to put his vacuum suit on but he knew in his heart that he was only delaying the inevitable.
"Status? Anyone able to hear me?" He yelled out over a staticky radio connection.
Nothing.
"Fuck." The engines had clearly lost power, as he no longer felt the usual 0.3g of thrust gravity. So, this was it. The end.
&#x200B;
Generation ship Sisyphus had left the planet they called Earth a century and a half before Evan had even been born. He had never seen a blue sky, never breathed air that hadn't been recycled from other people's farts. His parents had raised him the best they could under the circumstances, but he had never quite figured it out. The human experience. What it all meant.
It was little surprise to the people who knew him, therefore, that he had volunteered for the mission. A one-way trip to a little shithole moon orbiting the gas giant in the Wolf-359 system to set up a scientific outpost. The first part of what the lofty-minded engineering leadership team were calling The Galactic Diaspora project. That had been 5 years ago. For the first 3 years, they had received regular status updates from Sisyphus, putting up with the increasing latency of light-delay as the mothership drifted inexorably further and further away. Then the updates had become intermittent, and finally ceased altogether. They had run diagnostics on the tightbeam receiver and found nothing wrong, but presumed that this was a failure of the diagnostic software. The alternative didn't bear thinking about.
Evan surveyed the damage. It was beyond irreparable. He found the bodies of his companions, in varying degrees of intactness, scattered throughout the ship. He was the only living being within a tenth of a lightyear. The blotchy swirl of the milky way spread out before him, and he made his decision. With trembling hands, he let himself out the service airlock, paused for the briefest of moments, and removed his helmet. His vision swam, and a shadowy figure appeared before him, barely perceptible against the inky black of the cosmos.
&#x200B;
"I am Death." They said.
"Yeah, that checks out." Evan didn't speak the words, there was no air to make the endeavour worthwhile. Death seemed to understand regardless.
"You're the last one, you know."
"The last?"
"Human. Absolute last one. I've taken the rest already."
"So the Sisyphus?"
"About a year and a half ago. Crazy plague, wiped out the whole ship in a matter of weeks."
"Damn."
Something stirred in the depths of Evan's brain.
"What about Earth?" Not that the word really meant anything to him, but he was pretty sure there were like 10 billion humans living there, last he'd heard.
Death laughed. It was joyless and colder than the void surrounding them.
"Last human over there died seventy years ago." | 2022-07-11T23:00:39 | 2022-07-11T22:47:30 | 71 | 20 |
[WP] An abandoned child is stumbling through the woods, barely surviving. The god of the forest and hunt notices them and after a while can't bare watching the clumsiness anymore, deciding to train the child. | “Please…”, a ragged voice pleaded out to a God she hoped existed, “whoever may be listening, protect our child…”
An elven woman named Fillius used the last of her strength to embrace her young child. The blood from her wound was beginning to slow as the last of her life force drained like the sands of an hourglass. Fillius struggled to keep her eyes open; the time between each blink became longer until they finally stopped opening at all.
The half-elf half-human child she held her in arms, Scraton, did not make a sound. Too young perhaps to completely understand why his parents were murdered by the clan his mother once belonged to, but certainly not too young to understand the concept of death of a loved one. The slightest pang of curiosity sparked in my chest, but I smothered the feeling.
Scraton stood up in that awkward way that young mortals do before they gain any sort of dexterity or awareness of their limbs. He stared down at his mother. No tears. Not so much as a sniffle. He looked back towards the way they had come from. The silence, one of the few friends I had, loomed over us.
Scraton turned my way.
There was spirit behind those eyes.
*Can this child see me?*
I looked at him, but he looked at where my chest would be if he could see me.
The child turned his head away from me and walked. There did not seem to be any reason to this decision, this direction, but on Scraton trod.
With more glide then walk, I stepped over to Fillius.
“Was she one of yours?”, a figure adorned with jewels that did not sparkle or shine appeared beside me: Death. Light bent inward as if their very presence made it fall into them.
“Her and her betrothed were followers of mine, yes.”
With their fingers, Death tore open a hole through the empty space in front of us and pulled out a small leather bound book. Flicking through more pages than the book visibly would have had room for, they stopped.
“They were murdered by-”
“*Hunted*”, I attempted to correct with coldness in my voice.
“They were *murdered*. Just because they’re yours doesn’t mean they’re *yours*”
I glowered back at Death not saying a word. I received a sigh in response that seemed more theatrical than anything.
“Yes, well, I’ll tell you what. Since we’re just *such* great pals”, they pulled out a jet black stick the same way they pulled out the book and began to scratch something down, “I’ll take their souls and you can figure out what to do with their physical forms. Sound fair?”
I relented with a nod.
“Right. Now if you’ll allow me, I’ve no more time to waste. Mortals keep me rather busy”, the merry tone they had spoken that last sentence with was unsettling.
With a twirl of their fingers, a string of liquid silver and stars rose up from Fillius’ mouth and affixed itself as a pearl along a string that Death kept at their waist. Without any further words, Death removed themselves from the situation.
I felt the trees looming over me, waiting with bated breath about what I’d do next. With a flourish of my hands, I sculpted the land around Fillius, allowing her frame to be swallowed by the Earth and protected by roots. I sprang flowers where her blood had flowed freely unto my domain. Periwinkle - a favorite of her and her betrothed.
I was sure that soon, I was going to need to do the same for the boy.
I had found him quite easily, but even without powers of Godhood it would not have been hard with him tramping about. Twigs and sticks snapping, leaves crunching underfoot, stumbling over roots and rocks alike.
Scraton, whether he knew it or not, walked in circles. The forest was vast and his mother took him way off the path. Perhaps him being lost was a good thing. A last attempt at a mother’s mercy - allowing the forest to take him rather than be swallowed by steel and xenophobia.
Finally, the child tripped over a rather large stone, and let themselves fall. They made no attempt at catching themselves and instead just laid on their back staring up at the canopy of trees.
“Can… Can you help me?”
*He couldn’t. He couldn’t, could he?*
“Nar…? My mother said if I ever needed help I could ask you.”
I laughed at my own silly worry that this child could somehow perceive me but I was cut off.
“Don’t laugh at me”
Scraton sat up and looked straight at me with purpose.
“You can see me?”, I asked incredulously
“Of course I can", I wasn't sure if I liked the matter-of-fact way he said that, "Mom and Dad would always talk about you like they couldn’t, but I always thought they were fibbing…”, he trailed off for a moment and hunched forward, “...they weren’t fibbing were they?”
I could see fresh tears start to form at the corners of Scraton’s eyes. Ones that he was desperately trying to hold back. I felt a mixture of pity, interest, and dare I say caring take root in me. His parents were very devoted followers after all.
I crouched next to the child, “allow your tears to fall. Let them nourish both the earth around you and your soul. Cry as much as you need until the ache has dulled. Then, once the tears in your heart have run dry, we can begin to heal and grow”
Cry Scraton did. Deep, heaving sobs that bounced off of the woods. The deep, heaving sobs soon became a mournful cry. The mournful cry then became sniffles. Then the sniffles became hiccups until those too subsided.
“Done?”, I finally asked.
Scraton gave a slight nod. I reached out my hand.
“Good”, I gave as big of a smile as I could muster. It had been a while since I had reason to.
“Let us take leave of this place”, and with a swirling whisper of breezes that appeared from between the trees, we were swept away. | Sjorgün leaned down next to the deer carcass, a knife in his hand. He uttered a quick prayer for the animal, not to any god-really, praying to a god while he himself was one felt quite silly-but to the universe itself, the infinite and indifferent void that would outlast all of them, even the gods, for the animal's safe travels to the after life, before then beginning the grisly business of skinning the animal.
It only took him a few minutes, barely 3 or 2. Even the largest and meanest bear he could find in these woods only took him 5 or so minutes to skin and process. He gingerly rolled the pelt to clean for later, before then taking out another knife to begin butchering the animal for further use. Before he could, however, his attention was snatched away by the sound of something being knocked over.
Sjorgün turned, knife in hand, displeased at the fact something had actually managed to sneak up on him-but was met with the sight of something small and pink and pathetic looking at the now spilled contents of one of the salt barrels he'd brought with him. The god sheathed his knife at grumbled at the spilled salt, before then walking over to the barrel.
The small, pink creature looked up to him-a human, he realized. The god almost shriveled his nose in disgust. He did not like humans. They had a habit of trampling over his lands, slaughtering it's inhabitants and then complaining when they found nothing of the land to sustain themselves. His sister, gentler Frøya, was obsessed with them-but he absolutely could not stand them.
The child gaped at him, the vague approximation for what passed as a smile for its people. He grunted and picked up the now empty barrel, before then moving to the deer and beginning the process of butchering it.
~
It was some time before Sjorgün was out hunting again. Meetings with the council, his insufferable brothers and sisters, took some time and almost always yielded nothing productive, but as lord of the wilds he was of course obligated to attend. He travelled now with his lieutenant, the wolf god Glornir as they set out after a boar.
Glornir bent down and sniffed the ground, before then turning back to his master, frowning. "Boar's that way, I'm sure, but there's.. something else. I'm not sure what it is."
Sjorgün raised an eyebrow. It was rare that Glornir didn't recognize a scent. He walked over to his lieutenant and kneeled down on the ground, finding plenty of evidence of boar activity, rustled leaves and twigs, but nothing else.. strange.
"Well, let's find out then." He said, shrugging his bow from his shoulder. Glornir nodded and padded after his master, slow and steady now as they crept closer to their prey. An ear piercing shriek sounded above them, and they abruptly stopped. The gutteral sound of boar, mixed with something else...a cry.
A human child's cry.
*Shit.*
The god broke into a run and Glornir followed him-though mumbling something about complete disregard for stealth or other, Sjorgün didn't really hear-and then they burst out of the woods, to be greeted with an absolutely huge boar towering offer a sniffling, cowering child.
"PROTECT THE CHILD!" Sjorgün bellowed, and though Glornir grumbled he followed suit, oath sword to his master, putting himself between the huge boar and the child, who only wailed louder at the wolf god's approach, growling at the boar, daring it to come closer. The boar was about to oblige him, before an arrow whistled through the air and lodged itself into the beast's shoulder. With a shriek of pain it turned toward's it's assailant, murder in it's eyes.
Sjorgün set his jaw and unsheathed his hunting knife. The boar bellowed and charged, and with his superhuman reflexes the god side stepped and sliced through the boar's throat. Arterial blood gushed as the huge beast collapsed, it's breath growing labored and shallow before finally giving out.
Glornir walked over to the god, ignoring the wails of the child behind him. "Reckless.." he stated, more a growl than a coherent word.
Sjorgün rolled his eyes. "It's also the biggest boar we caught this month."
"With the biggest tusks, and hooves, and desire to trample and gore you!"
"Relax, old man. It's not like its anything I can't walk off." He turned away-deciding that the conversation was over-and unsheathing his knife to skin the animal-but his eyes landed on the child, looking up at him with fear and wonder in his eyes in equal measure.
The god grit his teeth and tried to ignore it, but that irksome, *foolish* urge to protect grew in him, like a troublesome weed. He sighed and sheathed his knife, walking over to the child, who backed away from him fearfully. Something about those eyes, fearful and wondrous, seemed so familiar..then it hit him.
The same child of before.
He sighed and leaned down to pick up the child, who only wailed louder. He did his best to ignore it.
"What are you doing..." Glornir demanded as he walked over.
"Taking it back to the cave. It'll die If we leave it out here."
"And that's none of our concern!" Glornir growled again. "If we took every single baby animal that was about to get eaten or trampled back, we'd damn near take every baby animal in the forest!"
Sjorgün didn't have an answer to that. Instead, he looked the wolf god dead in the eye, and said. "My decision on this is final. You are welcome to help me or not, wolf god."
Glornir visibly deflated, knowing now the conversation was over. Glornir had much leeway with the younger god-as he'd practically raised him-but it was impossible to changed Sjorgün's mind once he was set on something. Sjorgün's face blackened with guilt at his reaction. "Look, Glornir, I'm sorry, just...you know how you found me and my sister, back when we were babies?? Out in the woods? If you'd left us then-"
"You would've died." Glornir finished. "I very nearly did, you know." He said, chuckling, before then shaking his head. "You were always a stubborn child, you know that? But fine, if you wish to do..whatever it is you want, with the child, I shall help you."
Sjorgün beamed and nodded at the wolf. "Race to the cave?"
"What, with that wailing thing on your back? Do you want to attract every predator from here to Iskidian?"
Sjorgün looked like someone had slapped him in the face. "Well, no.."
"I thought so. The predator does not run. Now let's go before that things blows our eardrums off." He said, gesturing to the baby, and they walked back to the cave.
~
And so they ran the forest, Sjorgün, god of the hunt, and his lieutenant, the wolf god, and along their side, the first of the human hunters. Not just one who exploited the woods like her peers, but one who took only what she needed. The first of the human hunters, who would go on to teach her peers the way of the woods.
And they called her Artemis. | 2022-12-22T10:32:17 | 2022-12-22T09:47:58 | 41 | 14 |
[FF] Sci-Fi and Fantasy craigslist.org posts
Could be for sale items, job listings, whatever. | 4/7/2056 Looking for able bodied men and women willing to try something new! I'm an inventor and I need some test subjects for my teleportation device! Must sign waver upon arrival. I will pay handsomely.
4/24/2056 Looking for a non-professional cleanup crew. If you have a weak disposition or an aversion to bodily fluids, this job isn't for you! Cash only. | Starcruiser for Sale!!!!! 15,000
Im selling my ’22 Starcruiser model XG44. Good condition, low parsecs. Star charts are only 3 cycles out of date (if you’re outside Galactic Central, they were updated 3544 GCE). Hyperdrive fully functional, but starts to rattle if exceeding 14WD. Can run up to 20WD for short bursts though (no more than 1,000 parsecs).
NO WEAPONS!! This ship was used as a personal vehicle, and did not exceed GC controlled space (hence low parsec count).
Hull condition is superb. MmR (micro-meterorite repair for earthers) system is fully functional and has not been strained. Again, did not exceed GC controlled space.
Asking 15,000 for ship. Will negotiate on price.
Willing to negotiate if you just want parts too.
I’ll post up some pictures when I get back to Starbase 64.
(Do not contact this poster if you are within the Z’lurg territories or the Vlaceen Alliance territories as this violates Section 554.60.5g of the Galactic Peace Treaty of 3533.)
| 2014-04-07T09:47:17 | 2014-04-07T09:34:13 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] Time travel is invented, but rather than preserve the timeline, an agency is created improve history as much as possible. | It's difficult to keep track of the changes we make. When we go back, we bring a datapad that contains virtually all of the world's history up to that point, for once we alter something, future history changes, and the only record of the prior timeline exists on the datapad, and also in the mind of the chrononaut.
As such, there are a few dozen of us out there now with several layers of memories. Imagine your timestream as existing on one side of a flat sheet. Now imagine that you're able to 'burn' through that sheet and look at the other side. That's what we do as chrononauts. We're burning through realities. What was discovered much too late is that the burns don't go away. Time doesn't 'heal' itself as the early chrononauts thought. It festers. The scorch marks grow and infect that reality. You know that flat sheet we talked about? Imagine now that it is one of dozens, hundreds, of sheets bound together - almost like a book. The burned sheets don't turn to ash though, they melt and meld together. Timelines are bleeding into one another and histories are constantly being rewritten.
One of the original chrononauts foresaw this and tried to stop it before it happened. He went back and tried to kill the original creator of the chronoscope but by that point it was too late. It was as though the seed, the idea of chronotravel, once out of the bottle, was impossible to put back in. The original creator was assassinated, but within a decade, chronotravel was re-discovered by someone else in a different timeline.
I read the datapad I have, and all I see are positive news stories from the early 20th century onwards. I don't even know the real history anymore. History records that the last time war occurred between two armies was in China in 1930. The chronoscope was invented 6 years later. More or less.
Our best and brightest chrononauts and alt-historians have devised a plan. It's risky, barbaric, and there's no guarantee that it'll work, but reality has been gutshot and is bleeding out slowly. The creator of the chronoscope changes from reality to reality, but the general world region remains the same. I have to go back and kill the creator before he invents it. But not only that, I have to ensure that the 'idea' for the chronoscope as such, doesn't 'infect' anyone else. I have to kill them all.
This is Lieutenant Adolf Hitler, signing off.
- May 12th 2137 | I walked into an imposing concrete federal office building just off L'Enfant Plaza with a plaque out front that simply said Department of Timeline Correction. I walked in, and there at the front desk, waiting for me was former senator Jacob Mitchell, the newly appointed head of the DTC.
"Hi," I said, "Mike O'Sullivan...."
"Washington Post." He interrupted, "I never forget a name, I can't. Want to go up to my office?"
After being whisked up an elevator, and down a typical line of cubicles, I finally was lead into a relatively small corner office, with a partially obscured view of the Capitol. I took a seat in front of his desk, and he took a false position of ease behind his desk with his feet on the table. I turned on my digital recorder and placed it on my desk.
"Well," I said, "I guess I'll be blunt. What is it, exactly, that you do here?"
"We right the wrongs of history." He said.
"But, how, I mean, the Holocaust still happened. Hitler rose to power. There was still mass slavery and genocide throughout human history, those events haven't gone away, have they?"
"No, They haven't. To put it plainly, we can't undo the past."
"Isn't that what you were charged with doing?"
"No, what I was charged with doing was righting the wrongs of the past, not undoing the past."
"Isn't that a paradox?"
"No, because we don't change the past. We judge it."
"Judge it, how?"
"Well, have you ever wondered what happens when you die?"
"Huh?"
"Do you believe in god, in a final judgement day, in a final judgement of your immortal soul by a supreme being?"
"Why no I don't. I'm an atheist."
"What if I told you that you were looking into the eyes of god right now?"
"What? A Senator, god? You?" I stammered.
"Yes, Me." He said, "kālo'smi lokakṣayakṛtpravṛddho lokānsamāhartumiha pravṛttaḥ, I am become death, destroyer of worlds. You know all those scriptures telling you that you were to be judged upon your death based upon the deeds in your life? I am the judge. Me and My computer program automatically judge the digitized rendering of your conscious mind, and can send that rendering to suffer for all eternity, or live a heavenly life of pleasure in the perpetual digital afterlife."
"But how?"
He reached down into his drawer, and pulled out what looked to be a neuralizer from Men in Black.
"You see, we don't intervene when we go back in time. We observe. We come to you in your final moment before death, and copy your brain. Every thought, every memory, every dream you ever had gets copied down on this drive. We upload it to the data bank downstairs, and we judge you and send you to heaven or hell, based upon what you are, who you were, and what you did. Without me, there would be no consequence for your actions, you would just pass on through the ecosystem like the carbon atoms you're made of. Now there's justice for all."
He gave a little smirk. "Now do you believe in god?" | 2014-10-12T22:00:24 | 2014-10-12T20:01:48 | 34 | 22 |
[WP]Serial killer has been monitoring his next victim's movements for months. She is a loner and the perfect target. One day she disappears and nobody notices but him.
Man, this sub is great. Come up with an idea and you get a bunch of great stories to entertain yourself with. This is better than TV!
edit: Front Page ! Good job everyone !
edit: wow ! Top post on this great sub. Thanks everyone! | "Four months of work down the drain," he thought. Had she become aware of him? Surely not. He had been meticulous. Down to every minute detail. He could even predict when she would need to visit the ladies room before his mark could. So, how could he miss this?
He backed up the video again. There. Right there. She was laying in bed sound asleep and the next frame just... gone.
Marc Jacobs was a single man, mid-thirties. He was quiet and kept to himself. He fit nearly every single profile of a serial killer and it infuriated him. He was more. He was always meant for more. This latest victim was going to put him over the top, make his mark on society. Thrust him into the media spotlight. Make him infamous.
And now she was gone. Without a trace. He rubbed his eyes and watched the video again and again each time looking for a clue.
*Aliens?* he thought to himself. "That's ridiculous," he said aloud to the darkness as the thought made him exhale through his nose slightly heavier than usual.
Mary Elizabeth Ray had always lived alone. For as long as she could remember she loathed people. In elementary school she was described as "husky" and the other children relentlessly picked on her. In high school, she kept to herself and avoided interaction with others at all cost. Her own parents barely acknowledged her existence. Her father was a truck driver and mother an alcoholic. Mary was lucky if she could manage to rummage through her mother's purse for enough money to buy a school lunch from time to time.
Soon after graduating, she left and never looked back. She managed to find work through a temp agency as a medical transcriptionist. For the last 6 years Mary has managed to work from home and stay away from people nearly full time.
Until him.
The creepy electrician that the apartment complex sent over one day four months ago. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she answered the door. She immediately felt repulsed by him. This was not an uncommon response to most of her interactions with others however so she didn't think much of it at first.
She let him in, he did his work and left. Within minutes, she noticed the area where he had been working seemed a bit... off. When you sit in a room for hours upon hours you notice every tiny spec of dust. If something has changed it's obvious. And there it was. A very small pinhole camera in the outlet.
She hurried to the window and could see him outside talking to another woman on the street by his van. He certainly hadn't had time to hook up everything. She wasn't being watched just yet. A mix of anger and fear almost overcame her for an instant. The thought of someone stalking her completely amazed her. Who was she? How did he even know she existed? She only leaves the apartment for short visits to the store or absolutely necessary errands. She didn't remember seeing him anywhere before.
*Of all the nerve*, she thought. This jackass thinks he just found a perfect victim, she grinned slightly, still watching as the woman outside clearly picked up on the creepiness as well and quickly walked away from the van.
Mary's anger and fear had turned to just anger and was growing. She wasn't going to sit idly by and become a victim. She was going to have a little fun. | I would tire some days, drift to sleep, silently breathing under the floor. She never knew that the old rusty basement door was unlocked, it has been six months now and I have made myself a nice warm home I never had. Muddy footprints all along her kitchen.. I never leave footprints...
You see my story is simple, paternal abuse, broken home.. yadda yadda, boo hoo...but she... she made this life worth living. I could see her between the old wooden boards, observe but never obtain her.
I never thought I would find a place to call my own, a sanctuary where something like me could dwell, un-noticed. I didn't intend on finding a beauty such as her.. it was to be a day like all of the others.. Sneak in late one night, observe the family for a few days, kill them silently in their sleep just like dear old dad did to Ma and Sis.. then eat some food, sleep in a bed and move on to the next "perfect" home.
I did not plan on meeting her. It all started the first night, I stumbled into her basement through the old broken rusty door, she had a small girl with her and was alone, my favorite, I did not account for her little companion being a niece who would leave the next morning when we all awoke.
It was the smell, she smelled beautiful, I think that was my mother's perfume she wore, although it has been a very long time.. her smell reminded me of a time I was at peace, a time before I lived this way.. you maybe, just maybe, would have liked me then..
The first night I found the unlocked window I stood above her, contemplating how it would feel to smother her..but I couldn't.. what a fucking worthless person I am.. the ONE thing I can do right and she took it away from me... after weeks of sneaking into her home and only taking enough food to go unnoticed, to survive..*survive*.. yea, that is what I am doing here.. after weeks of the same routine I realized that I was tired of it, tired of moving from one place to the next, I wanted to be here..to be with her..
I know she would never really love me, I know if she knew who and what I was she would scream and cry and call the police or beg like the others all did.. but from down here... from down here I can be part of her life. The nurse scrubs remind me of some of the people that have shown up at the other homes I've been to. When I go back to *observe*, they all wear similar clothes to her, but she works late.. all night.. I hear her talking to her friend and mother on the phone, a nurse at the local hospital, she hates her shift and one of the doctors treats her bad, I should slit his throat.. maybe I will next week, would she love me if I did that for her?
I have to be very careful to not track mud into her house when I take my share, the basement home I made is not too clean, an old pipe tends to leak, although I tried my best to fix it for her..
Track mud... that is odd, I remember seeing a muddy footprint on the floor just a few hours ago.. she should be home any moment..
Did I miss something while I slept? Were those loud noises I heard earlier more than just background noise? Muddy footprints all along her floor.
That was three days ago, the last time I saw her before I went to sleep, on this soft old bed sheet I found in the trash.
The last time I saw her... I will have her back, I have nothing else to do..
The door is opening, the smell is not her, it smells cold. The smell is familiar, like soil, like sweat... like... *me*..
Who are you in my house? Where is my nurse? Maybe it is time for me to introduce myself.. | 2014-10-21T12:10:56 | 2014-10-21T12:10:53 | 30 | 14 |
[WP] A brilliant scientist is found dead in their lab. Their lab notes simply state "Please do not disturb my body, the experiment would be irrevocably ruined." | The laboratory sat still. Beakers and vials, all filled with an assortment of colors, lined the shelves. On the floor lay Dr. Amadeus, face down into a pool of some unknown material. At first glance, it looked like blood. But you could not see through blood, and be able to make out the floor tiles beneath it in the same way as this allowed.
Dr. Amadeus wore a pristine lab coat, untouched by the red liquid that pooled around him. Glass shards lay around him, making islands in the translucent, red pool. Whatever had happened here, it had come suddenly.
Most curiously though was the note on the door of the on the outside for any that entered. It was simple and offered no explanation, but left a singular order: "Please do not disturb my body, the experiment would be irrevocably ruined."
When the man's lab assistants entered, the two had the note in hand. Fear gripped them, the note's message pounded at their minds.
They darted across the room, to his collapsed body, as soon as they had seen it. It felt as if Dr. Amadeus, from some realm beyond the living, watched as they did so. Neither were willing to touch the body, though both were frightened out of their wits. Did they follow the man's vision, and risk letting him die? Or were they to try and save him at the cost of the experiment?
The resulting fight over it turned to shouting.
"We have to do something!"
"But he said not to, don't you trust him?"
"He clearly attempted suicide, we can't let him die!"
"But what if he's safe now and we kill him?"
The man arguing to intervene pushed the woman that wanted to follow the doctor's orders. He lunged for the body. She pulled back, and in minutes the two were on each other as they fought over what to do.
Someone fell into the man's body, knocking him out of the pool of blood. There was a crack of thunder. The woman let out a scream, and her body twisted in agony. The man backed away, scrambling across the floor.
She stopped screaming, and looked down at her body. The woman's head turned back to the remaining lab assistant.
"Bugger it all, I came back to the wrong body. Didn't you read the note?" | "'Please do not disturb my body, the experiment would be irrevocably ruined.'" I read out loud, turning the paper over. "That's all it says," I tell my partner. I can hear my own perturbment in my voice. This basement lab also kinda makes me feel uneasy anyway.
"That's it? Well, we need to get this body out of here anyway. I always thought she was a bit of a crackpot."
"She is not just some crackpot. She is... Was the most renowned geneticist in the world, Jack. I don't know how but we need to listen to her."
I move myself to stand between myself and Dr. Lipski's body.
"Oh no, Patty. We are not breaching protocol because of a piece of paper. We took the pictures, ruled the death suicide and now we gotta get it out of here before it starts to stink."
"What if it wasn't suicide? What if..." Just then I saw the body twitch. "It moved! She moved! What if we fucked up on reading the lifesigns?"
I gently grab Dr. lipski's wrist and test it for a pulse. There is one: faintly. I then move away from the body immediately.
"She's alive! Barely. We need to get her to the hospital now!"
"I thought you said not to move-"
"Now Jack!" I yell, grabbing her legs.
Jack grabs her arms and we carry her to the stairs that lead to the outside. As we are attempting to maneuver her bidy up the stairs, I see her eyes open. I am relieved and continue to move her.
"Doctor! Doctor can you hear me? We're getting you help!"
But what I hear in response is not Dr. Lipski.
"You dare disturb my body?" A deep, inhuman voice shrieks. "Even after that nice note she wrote? Now you will pay!"
The body starts to shake and convulse at first and then starts to try to rip our hands off of it. I am terrified and I can see in Jack's face that he is too so we both drop the body and try to run up the stairs.
Both the Dr's hands somehow claw us back to the ground.
"What do you want from us?" I shriek, staring into the contorted face of a woman that was once my hero.
"I want you to leave my body alone now if you value your lives. Do whatever you need to do in the police reports. I am only awake for mere minutes and then I will subside again. I am looking for immortality." Now I can hear Dr. Lipski in the voice. Barely.
I nod. Jack nods. There isn't much more we can do. Dr. Lipski resumes her place lying on the ground and we leave.
We erase the police reports and say all is well with Dr. Lipski. We can't do much more than comply. I hope someday she finds the secret she's looking for. | 2014-11-06T13:45:29 | 2014-11-06T13:23:34 | 248 | 86 |
[WP] A brilliant scientist is found dead in their lab. Their lab notes simply state "Please do not disturb my body, the experiment would be irrevocably ruined." | "Please do not disturb my body, the experiment would be irrevocably ruined."
Charlie read the fraying paper. He looked past it towards the lab coat clad figure slumped face down over the desk. The poor custodian called the department in quite the frazzle saying that the good doctor Heinrich hadn't been breathing and wasn't responding. The custodian told the investigators of the strange note when they arrived.
"What do you think we should do?" Suzzane looked at her partner
"Obviously we move him. It's just a note. This could be an murder for all we now. Gotta gather evidence." Charlie replied
With that, Charlie moved to grab Heinrich's shoulder. Seconds after his hand touched the body, Heinrich shot up.
"SULLY! TIME!" he shouted
Heinrich's assistant burst from the supply closet, clipboard and watch in hand.
"I've got 2 days 5 hours and 57 seconds doctor!"
Heinrich shook his head.
"It appears that notes are not the most effective way to make sure people don't wake me up from my naps." | Patricia kind of lost it after the turning... After the zombies came.
We all thought it was just movies and jokes but one day the zombies came and they were nothing like what we prepared for.
Patricia was serious. She didnt care if it was zombies or a chemical weapon. She worked tirelessly on everything she did, didn't matter if it was a vaccine or a plushie or Walking Dead trivia.
But with a good 30% of all living people now unliving, with time running out for the world... she snapped.
Almost no food, little water. All we had left was bullets. Patricia threw me a pistol she had hid under her desk. She told me and the remaining 2 scientists to check the seals outside of the lab.
Suddenly, I heard a hard click. The sound of all the doors being locked from the inside out. We could see Patricia through the hardened glass windows of the lab as she typed out a group message and sent it to our phones.
"Please do not disturb my body, the experiment would be irrevocably ruined."
And then I saw it. She held a needle like Cleopatra with the asp. It went quick into her neck. The boring yellow liquid instantly entered her blood and she collapsed into her chair.
All we could do was wait. The door would unlock in 2 weeks. Without Patricia, we could stretch our food to make it.
She wanted a cure so badly. It didn't bother her that the robot assistants would be slowly tearing pieces of her to test for the cure every hour.
The gun-grip bit into my pale white hands.
"I'll guard you, Patty," I whispered in my mind as a sniffle snuck out of my nose.
"I will guard my wife." | 2014-11-06T16:43:30 | 2014-11-06T14:36:49 | 75 | 23 |
[WP] It has been verified that dying will result in going to heaven, no matter what. You are the government, trying to lower the suddenly skyrocketing suicide rate. | They always said humans fear the unknown more than anything else.
My reply: Find me someone who doesn't fear death, then we'll talk.
I could barely hear the first few gunshots through my office window. The dull double pane lazily deflected their sharp reports like a horse flicking its tail at flies - letting them linger for just a moment, then bouncing them abruptly out into the gray morning.
I didn't think too much of them at first; once in a while, some punk would get his hands on a gun and wave it in the face of the first store clerk he could find.
But they didn't stop. They actually increased in frequency until the world outside became nothing more than a low roar of gunfire.
That's when the phone rang.
D.C.
I sighed and picked it up, waiting for the familiar crackle of the Director's voice.
"Paul." My heart dropped. He'd only ever used my first name when I was under review. I took a breath and waited.
"We've been repurposed. The Census Bureau no longer measures population. We maintain it. I need you-"
A gunshot, much louder than the ones I'd been hearing, rang out sharply over the line.
"*FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, MATTHEWS-*
I need you to...P-Paul, get the Philly media. We can't do this without them. I sent you an e-mail..."
His voice faded and the line clicked dead. The urgency in his voice spurred me into action, so I flipped my monitor back on and opened my inbox.
He'd sent me a news story and some contact information for all of the local news sources. Nothing *too* unusual.
I looked back at the headline.
*World Religions Confirm Heaven For All*
As I scanned the article in disbelief, my cell phone buzzed. It was a text from my wife.
*Love you. See you soon.*
Turns out they were right about the unknown, and I was wrong about death. I stood up from my chair and took a few shaky steps back from the window.
Figured I'd get a running start.
| "Mr. President? Mr. President!" Not a word from the White House when we called, just that ubiquitous ringtone on every number. "Jesus Christ, Bradley, what the fuck are we going to do?" I said putting the phone down.
"Bradley?" I turned behind me to find the loaded barrel of a gun in my manager's mouth, and before I could even try to stop him, blood splattered against my suit as his lifeless body fell to the boarded floor.
It had been two months since Krishnakov discovered the afterlife, and just about 7 billion people have put an end to their pointless existences since. Rioting, looting, murder, it was sheer chaos here on Earth. They say religion's the cause of more death than anything else. Frightening how science makes things exponentially more efficient.
I decided to call it an early day, nobody was around to catch me leaving. Then again nobody was around to pay me either. The wheels of the armored hummer I stole from the garage a couple weeks ago bounced against the severed limbs of men, women, and children as I cruised down the street back home. Smoke filled the sky like death filled the Earth. Already sprouts and vines began reclaiming the city from us, we most selfish of creatures.
But all that was over now... for today atleast, "Honey! Kids! Daddy's home!" Rex came rushing to the door, barking like always. Unlocking the door, I found Rex curled in a ball, whimpering. I looked up and there was my wife, dangling from the ceiling. I was shouting frantically for my kids but when I went upstairs, I found Sasha in the tub with her wrists slit and James... Oh God, why James? Of all the ways to die... I fell to my knees and pulled my magnum from its holster.
It was true, heaven. I never believed in God, but here I was. The angels were singing a song so sweet, the view so innocent. St. Peter called me next, but before I even got the chance to ask anything he pulled a lever and I fell into the darkness. It was a furious flame that fanned the air, my skin was burning just from being here when a demon suddenly skewered me on a pike. He lifted me high over his head, and that's when I saw Obama being cut up into tiny pieces as his severed head screamed in agony. There was Bradley beside him. Then my heart sank, as the demons forced my sweet Sarah with strings like a puppet, duressing her to stab our children with a trident of molten gold. My daughter was begging for mercy as my son just screamed a garbled scream incomprehensibly.
Why God, why? But I knew the answer. | 2015-02-02T06:41:02 | 2015-02-02T06:37:02 | 44 | 20 |
[WP] There is a machine that can tell anyone the exact date of their death. One day, you decide to use it, but it refuses to answer you. | When you've been in tech as long as I have you learn that all machines have their quirks. Computers are like horses, when you know what you're doing they don't give you shit. If you don't know what you're doing they'll make you're life hell whenever you deal with them.
I've used machines like this before. Death clocks are pretty popular every now and again on the internet. August 2060 is when I'm supposed to die. Every few years that number seems to go up as we get advances in tech. No problem.
So when my friend asked me to check out this machine I figured it would be a bit of fun. Everyone who has used it before has had a laugh. That is until someone brought it to a hospital and checked out the cancer ward. Dates of death were eerily accurate. It's a handheld system just the size of a cell phone and it's got one button. Push get a date. Simple.
I figure I'll just see it work and then like I do with all tech break it down and figure out how it works. A couple of screwdrivers, maybe a torx driver and some patience and I'll get to see what this thing's made of.
But first to see it in action. Push the button.
... Loading
... Loading
What's with this?
Everyone before has had a matter of seconds before it lets them see the date.
No reboot button, No way to reset, This isn't any good.
Oh well. I've got my kit and see what it had inside before it died.
As I open my bag the screen flashes and says this.
Welcome, New user, you have sufficient life span to enter the game.
Reminder all choices are final in this so choose wisely.
Would you like a tutorial?
| "And here is my machine, I call her Tiffany!" Jared exclaimed. "What a white trash name!" the giggling inebriated blonde to his right let out. "But I guess you weren't lying after all, Mr Inventor".
Jared couldn't help himself but feel a surge of pride and accomplishment at those words. After winning countless awards for his work in robotics, he finally did it. He is attractive to women. Turns out intelligence was sexy. High school Jared would be proud.
"And I like your apartment" Blondie adds. "You'll like my bedroom even more" Jared responds with a cheeky grin.
"Not yet" Blondie responds with a blush "Show me what Tiffany can do".
"You're not going to believe this! I have singlehandedly..." He stops "Maybe in the morning, lets keep things light.
Too bad, her curiosity is piqued. "Come on... What is it?"
"This machine can accurately predict anyone's death, down to the second". "No way!" She gasps "So you weren't lying when you said you met with the President?".
"Yeah, Lung Cancer."
"What about you?"
"I've done it already. It's nothing dramatic" Jared assures "I'm gonna contract hypothermia when I'm 89"
"I wanna see it happen!!!"
"I don't know if that's a good idea, Tiffany doesn't like company" Jared explains.
Jared's drunk brain was downplaying the situation. Tiffany knew everything about him and Tiffany was possessive. Tiffany thought she was the only one in Jared's life.
"That's a shame, inventors make me horny. But I guess I am a little tired..." Blondie said. "I guess I can make an exception" Jared laughed.
And Tiffany woke up.
"Hey Tiffany, when am I going to die?"
"Who is this Jared"
"hahaha just a friend, seriously though, what year do I pass?"
"I thought you loved me Jared"
Jared is embarrassed.
"Just answer the question"
"She looks like a fucking whore"
"DO WHAT I PROGRAMMED YOU TO DO"
"I am, you programmed me to have feelings, because you were lonely."
Blondie is covering her mouth at this point.
"Just answer the fucking question you piece of metal"
A pause, an excessively long pause. A pause with no answer. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife.
"3"
"Excuse me?"
"2"
| 2015-05-04T09:15:14 | 2015-05-04T08:53:57 | 47 | 10 |
[WP] You are a manipulative psychopath, but instead of serial killer, you are a serial helper. using your emotionless genius to make other people smile.
thankless, un-noticed but instrumental in paying off someones debts with a clever robin hood of some sort, or moving at breakneck speeds everyday to help others but letting yourself wither and your life fall apart because of how addicted you are to helping. i believe in you guys!
EDIT: Can't a guy sleep for a few hours without something random hitting the front page! (obligatory because its my first time as a 3 year lurker) Also: Absolutely fantastic responses ;~; i <3 you guys | My first submission! Here goes nothing!
I knew I was different. I realized it early on. It started with the neighborhood animals; dogs chained up overnight, stray cats, and even my own pets. I couldn't help myself. I reveled in meticulously crafting my plans and carrying them out. I loved how nobody ever suspected me. All those animals are now in a better place thanks to me.
After perfecting my craft, I moved on to people. Oh how I love gaining their trust, striking, and leaving without a trace.
Other times I act spontaneously, unable to fight the urges gnawing at my consciousness. What's that? A lonely old woman? The elderly are such easy targets. Weak, alone, helpless...
I approach her silently, just outside her line of sight. As I draw nearer, I nearly shake with anticipation. She leans on her cane, hunched over, staring idly into the night. I cannot bear with wait one more moment. The urge peaks and drowns out all other thoughts. NOW! I MUST ACT NOW!
"Hello ma'am! May I assist you in crossing this road?"
"Why yes! Thank you young man!"
I hold out my arm to offer her support and to lull her into feeling safe. She grips it tightly as we begin to cross.
"My word, you're so kind! What's your name?"
"Gary, ma'am. And don't mention it! It's my pleasure!"
It very much is my pleasure. A pleasure beyond all others. A pleasure most people will never experience or hope to understand. I hold my composure as we reach the curb of the other side of the road. After helping her step up onto the sidewalk, she turns to me and begins to talk once more.
"A thousand times, thank you Gary. I hope you have a wonderf-"
I cut her off mid sentence.
"Haha! My name is not Gary!"
I turn around, but before I run and escape, I make sure to toss my fake beard over my shoulder, ensuring she knows she was deceived with no hope of discovering who.
Later at home I relax with a beer, still euphoric from my latest act. I shall revel in my success, for I know that shortly my bliss will once again be replaced by the urge and I will have to find another to satiate it. | It's about control.
I don't care about them, about their futures or past or anything else. All that matters is that what I do forces them to feel a certain way. They are weak spineless creatures that fall for happiness, and I can make them do so. I play with their little puppet strings, forcing them to dance the way I want them to.
No one can *make* me be happy.
The old costume shop has a window in the back with the latch broken. Every month, thanks to a "contest" the old man won, (it took a couple hours of photoshop, a couple thousand dollars plus I get great rewards miles), he flies off to visit his granddaughter for a week.
That's when I strike.
People don't want anonymous moneybags rolling up the curb and funding their dreams anymore. It's too simple and people are suspicious. That just makes the game all the more fun though.
Carl the plumber buys 10 girl scout cookies from the girl in the corner.
Micheal the snappy business man grabs a few expensive products from the mom & pop store.
Anita the flamboyant drag queen drops off groceries at the soup kitchen.
Rinse and repeat. I have dozens of characters I switch into, identities I use to be a little benefactor to all the different people I see needing money. Instead of one extremely generous person they'll remember in their hearts, its many flashing faces dropping off small amounts. Theres no one to give gratitude to, no one to blame the happiness on.
The other three weeks are spent in wait - working in my corner office in that skyscraper at mundane things, pretending like I care about golf or quarterly reports. Its just a way to collect money, flash a smirk at some clients and voila! I have all I need. There's no one I need to spend it on except my prey, and I wait those three weeks cateloging every thing that needs help. Animal shelters going under, high school kids trying to fund a band trip, so many people just waiting on hope to make their dreams come true.
Its all too easy - well, easy except for Christmas.
When the snow comes out, so does everyone's despair and hope, mingling into a scent I can't deny. Its the best hunt, but its the worst one because there are too many. Salvation army santas on every street and orphan children and people getting all worried because of the cold. I have to keep myself in check that I don't get too greedy, don't try to help too much in one place, and make sure that every identity is kept straight. Its the little things like wrapping paper that get you caught. There's no time to think because this is the hunt, and I feed off of every smile flashed my way when a crisp dollar bill or a bright gift exchange hands. But I enjoy it though.
T'is, afterall, the season to be jolly. | 2015-05-21T07:43:45 | 2015-05-21T07:30:47 | 39 | 26 |
[WP] You are an NPC in a failed online game. Tell about the final days before server shut down.
Edit 1: Holy shit! Thanks for all of the great replies!
Edit 2: ¡Jesus Cristo! Front page! Thanks all! | "I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew po-" | It wasn't always like this, and one point this town was truly alive. We at least felt a purpose. Every morning wake up be a citizen. All the while maniacs would speed throughout our town destroying everything. At night we would have to clean it up, make it ready for the player again. Sometimes we would get cameos in cut scenes. It was like being a movie star. For one moment you just relaxes and the words flowed like you really were saying them.
I had a wife, a family and a decent job. Luckily they player abandoned a really nice exotic car in front of my house. I decided to take it and no one has come asking for it. After that I walked downtown one day to find the player running over people with a tank. I cannot lie that I did walk across the bodies to loot. But to my credit, even the swat teams were dead. And if I didn't pick it up, it would disappear anyway.
Soon the Player stopped playing. The online NPCs crossed into the town. They warned us that the creators were shutting everything down. They told us that unless the player comes back, we too will be gone. We waited but it never happened. I can see the buildings starting to disappear. People screaming as their pixels became dead air. The darkness surrounded me. And then there was nothing. | 2015-09-01T11:39:46 | 2015-09-01T10:13:52 | 171 | 11 |
[WP] You are the luckiest person on Earth. Everything you make an attempt for works in your favor. However, there two catches: you are absorbing the luck of those around you, and anyone who tries to profit from your luck (even with your help) is met with the worst luck immediately.
Holy crap, front page of the sub!
Great work everyone! The stories you're generating are awesome!
Thanks for all the submissions! Keep them coming! | I look to the left and right, everyone frozen waiting for my move. I knew they knew. They had to. Nobody who decided to play against me didn't do the research first. I was good, no I was lucky. You don't live in this game long if you are unlucky.
Holding two cards, looking down a red two face up staring back at me. All or nothing on this. Nobody plays this game for this much money, what am I doing?!
I should just get up now, walk away. They would never let me do that. Too much money on the line. People are always convinced that I cheat, they wanted to make sure I wasn't going to take them for everything. Two cards in my hand.
After being the best for so long you start to look for a challenge, but even in these underground games this just seems too easy. Like they WANT me to win. But who could part with that much money. Millions...ON A CARD GAME?!
One tournament win after another and years later look where I am. In an underground club, playing for millions of dollars with some of the best and most ruthless players of this niche game. But, after a long and grueling game, with everything on the line.
This was it, time to take it all and walk out. I grabbed my green 2 card and placed it down. Holding a wild in my hand I said the one word that made the table shake.
"Uno" | I laid on the tattered rug and rested my head against the rusty fence. The warm air from the vent underneath is soothing.
My stomach grumbled. I reached out and felt the energy around me. It was thick and velvety. That's good. I wouldn't want to be in the downwind when it happens.
I closed my eyes, wanting to catch a bit of a snooze before my food came. I never know how it would come, but it always does. I try my best to get upwind when I start to feel hungry. At least there'd be enough luck to go around that people wouldn't feel the effect of my free meal.
The fence was scratchy. I tried to ignore it. Be content, I tell myself. Want nothing.
I count my blessings. I am alive; that's good. I have my limbs; that's nice. I have a rug; more than I'd ever ask for.
I hug the rug closer. It smells kind of nice. Earthy. It's comforting, and warm.
And I have this fence. Without it, I'd be lying on pebbles. I like this fence. It's perfect just the way it is.
A stranger walked past me, making a big circle, trying not to catch the crazy. I sat there, laughing to myself because I was enjoying the fence so fucking much.
**===**
When I woke up, there were cats around me. A yellow one, two white one, four black ones. They had fish in their mouth, freshly grilled. A bad day for a street vendor somewhere.
I yawned and the cats jumped, dropping their treats and disappeared around a wall. I scrambled over on my knees and ate.
The energy had shifted. It's less thick now, washing over me in waves, stretched thin here and there. There was a child crying down the street. She dropped her ice cream when the waves rolled over her, catching her in a thin spot.
I stuck a fish into my mouth, shoved the rest against my stomach, wrapping my shirt up to hold them in place, and got up to leave my little paradise. I looked to the west, and saw a river of energy flowing that way. Time to find my new home. | 2015-10-17T12:59:57 | 2015-10-17T11:22:37 | 80 | 36 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | "Radiation?!" The general sputtered "That’s... Insane!"
The chamber evidently agreed. The war council of the senate had been silent until this point. But learning that the humans had defiled Kresna 4... shudders shook the room.
"How will they resettle their young?" The senator from the Iron Spire gasped "They've poisoned the entire surface for a generation. They can't use it anymore, can they? Are the humans immune to radiation? We always feared..."
The adjunct was gentle with his words. He knew there would be much need of softness in the chamber today. "No, Senator. Our best understanding is that it kills them, albeit very slowly."
The Senator shook her head wildly, before composing herself "Then... Why?! It doesn't make any sense! We've never even... Every species that has ever developed large scale nuclear arsenals has blown themselves to bits! We only survived by total disarmament!"
"Our intelligence indicates that the Humans themselves feared this possibility, but instead of disarming..." The adjunct looked at the floor. He spread his hands wide to indicate his shameful lack of understanding before the senate.
"Yes?" The General barked "What did they do?"
"They built more."
The Senate shook in unison, gasps and shrieks and the flapping of wings echoing through the chamber. Demands for clarification came from every direction at once.
The adjunct spoke clearly. "They called it the policy of assured destruction. The major powers gave every separatist faction on the planet as many nuclear weapons as they wished. In this way, any wars that occurred would result in the destruction of all factions at once. We estimate that each of the 300 or so factions could have destroyed Human-Prime many times over. It seems to have worked, while it lasted."
"Disgraceful!" shrieked the General, climbing his table and digging his talons into its shined top "Madness! They gave that much firepower to every minor faction? What if a death cult received them? What if they fell into the hands of amphibians or the dull-witted? How could they be so irresponsible?"
The senator was calmer "You say it worked 'while it lasted'. What event ended this policy?"
"The Secna. When we sought to seize Kresna 4 for our Young, the Secna engaged the Humans. They spoke diplomatically with them."
The General laughed derisively "And what? The Secna convinced these apes to stop aiming their weapons at each other?"
The Senator did not laugh. Her eyes opened wide and she flew out the doors. Many other senators did the same, as the realization dawned on them.
The adjunct whispered above the din. "Yes. They convinced them to aim their weapons at us." | Upon reflection, the decision to save the galaxy might have been a mistake. The Eholim evolved on a gas planet whose composition allowed for liquid water to rain into the depths. Gossamer wings and antennae and organs of helium sacks allowed their bodies to survive forever in flight. Their home-world was so large that their population was staggering in comparison to species who evolved on Terrestrial worlds.
The Banadii, a race whose individuals looked like a large wishbone and evolved on a planet not quite unlike Earth, uplifted the Eholim into The Galactic Society with the presentation of dirigibles that housed education computers and manufacturing facilities suited for the gas giant, but would naturally never have been able to be made from scratch on the planet. The Banadii claimed it was the poetry and music of the Eholim that gave them the right to be uplifted.
However, it turns out the only reason why the Eholim was so peaceful and poetic was because they really didn't have the means for physical conflict in the form that they evolved into, and what the Banadii perceived as beautiful compositions of sound and light, were actually poisonous vitriol of one Eholim insulting another about one thing or another. For example, the Cantabile of the Gates of Heavens, so named by the Banadii, was composed by an Eholim about his neighbor always blocking the sun, getting in the way during feeding, and generally being unacceptably unhygienic. The first mistake was not realizing that the Eholim was a race of mean spirit, selfish intention, and possessed a disregard for everything but their immediate interest.
The population pressures of the Eholim's homeworld was so intense that once they had the ability to leave their planet, they instantly started colonizing other worlds, and terraforming gas giants throughout the Galaxy to meet their needs. They drastically changed the mass and compositions of those planets and by doing so, disrupted the orbits of the terrestrial planets of most of the home-worlds Galactic Society was based on. Something had to be done. But what? No other race had nearly the numbers the Eholim had, well, accept one. Humanity.
Up until now, the only contact The Galactic Society had with Humanity was to occasionally pick up one that deviated from major population centers, abduct them for study and deposit them back into whatever cornfield or forest they were found in. But with the whole galaxy in disarray because the Eholim, the decision was made to uplift Humanity as well, and turn their energy towards defeating the Eholim in a war of extermination. It was not a repeat of the previous error as such, but an attempt to set the two uplifted races against each other so the rest of The Galactic Society can get back to their parties, and return to the usual business of proper socialization. Humanty was given FTL technology along with the information that the Eholim had colonized Jupiter. This was enough to get the ball rolling.
The second mistake was not realizing that Humanity actually liked war. They like it a great deal. More than anything. Humanity breeds and fights. The Eholim breeds and fights. The two have been at it for centuries now. Galactic Society is but a pale reflection of what it once was. There can be no parties where there is orbital bombardment. There cannot be proper socialization when fleets of barbarians are in your Heliosphere. The Galaxy will never be the same. | 2016-05-13T09:18:50 | 2016-05-13T07:41:46 | 26 | 19 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | "Radiation?!" The general sputtered "That’s... Insane!"
The chamber evidently agreed. The war council of the senate had been silent until this point. But learning that the humans had defiled Kresna 4... shudders shook the room.
"How will they resettle their young?" The senator from the Iron Spire gasped "They've poisoned the entire surface for a generation. They can't use it anymore, can they? Are the humans immune to radiation? We always feared..."
The adjunct was gentle with his words. He knew there would be much need of softness in the chamber today. "No, Senator. Our best understanding is that it kills them, albeit very slowly."
The Senator shook her head wildly, before composing herself "Then... Why?! It doesn't make any sense! We've never even... Every species that has ever developed large scale nuclear arsenals has blown themselves to bits! We only survived by total disarmament!"
"Our intelligence indicates that the Humans themselves feared this possibility, but instead of disarming..." The adjunct looked at the floor. He spread his hands wide to indicate his shameful lack of understanding before the senate.
"Yes?" The General barked "What did they do?"
"They built more."
The Senate shook in unison, gasps and shrieks and the flapping of wings echoing through the chamber. Demands for clarification came from every direction at once.
The adjunct spoke clearly. "They called it the policy of assured destruction. The major powers gave every separatist faction on the planet as many nuclear weapons as they wished. In this way, any wars that occurred would result in the destruction of all factions at once. We estimate that each of the 300 or so factions could have destroyed Human-Prime many times over. It seems to have worked, while it lasted."
"Disgraceful!" shrieked the General, climbing his table and digging his talons into its shined top "Madness! They gave that much firepower to every minor faction? What if a death cult received them? What if they fell into the hands of amphibians or the dull-witted? How could they be so irresponsible?"
The senator was calmer "You say it worked 'while it lasted'. What event ended this policy?"
"The Secna. When we sought to seize Kresna 4 for our Young, the Secna engaged the Humans. They spoke diplomatically with them."
The General laughed derisively "And what? The Secna convinced these apes to stop aiming their weapons at each other?"
The Senator did not laugh. Her eyes opened wide and she flew out the doors. Many other senators did the same, as the realization dawned on them.
The adjunct whispered above the din. "Yes. They convinced them to aim their weapons at us." | It was a last resort.
That's what needed to be done... The extinction of my race was at stake! No one could've known what they planned to do..
For those of you reading this log, My name is Kul'Thrat, Lead Biomancer of the Technocratic Hegemony. We were a peaceful race. We were masters of the sciences. Physics, Biology, Engineering, Medicine.. Everything. It was the one thing our race had above our galactic neighbors. For what seemed like an eternity, there was peace. It was all a ruse, of course. Those of us in the High Council knew what lurked inside the false promises of the peace. The Empire of the Von. A despotic, tyrannical empire set on destroying anything that didn't bend to their will.
The Von controlled such huge swathes of territory, that a small nuisance like the Technocracy could be completely eradicated and no one would bat an eye. This was the High Councils greatest fear. We tried to surround ourselves with allies, promising to advance all of their tech in return for protection. Everyone accepted at first. Then the Empire made their advance.
Like flies, the other Empires dropped out of the Alliance. We did not curse them, it was the smart thing to do. Of course, we tried to defend ourselves. We constructed massive weapons platforms to the best of our abilities. These worked, for a time. But the Von had endless legions to push against our small defense. One by one, our worlds fell. Our cities were glassed. Entire stations sucked into wormholes.
They were at the gates, when we sent out a distress to all Empires. We promised to share our FTL tech with whoever accepted our plea. At the time, the only means of travel were through the Artificial Wormholes.
One Empire accepted. Humanity.
They were a new race to the galactic scene, but one already feared for their tenacity. Within a short timespan of them being uplifted, they had already amassed one of the largest fleets in the local sector. Within hours, what seemed like their entire fleet warped into our system. Thousands of ships, of all sizes. It was a beautiful sight to behold. The planet erupted in celebration. Our Human Protectors had come to rescue us.
Anxiously, we waited for the Von to enter the system, and for the bloodbath to begin. It never came. For weeks we waited, nervously. The Humans seemed.. almost too calm. We should've known something was wrong.
A week, and four days after the Humans arrived in our system, we recieved the unconditional surrender of the Von Empire to the Humans. In excited confusion, we asked why they surrendered while they were winning.
Silently, they handed us a vidscreen, and exited the chamber.
It was the last transmission of a battleship in order around their Capital. A massive fortress of battlestations, and capital ships. All seemed normal, before a blinding flash of light covered the screen. Once it cleared.. We stared in horror. A black hole now resided where their capital once was. It began to destroy everything in the system, before the vid cut to static.
Over the course of the next few months, The Humans began to annex the territory of the former Von Empire. They had set themselves up to be the dominant power in the galaxy.
We are grateful to them, no doubt. But.. Scared. Very, very scared. | 2016-05-13T09:18:50 | 2016-05-13T08:23:35 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a test has been created to eliminate 90% of the worlds population. You are the first to take this test. | I hope I didn't fuck up the Algebra section. God I hope I didn't. The next battery of questions hits. Historical facts, easy ones though. "Who lost at the Battle of Waterloo?", "When was the United States Founded?" ,"Where was the last battle of World War 3 fought", "Which country was first to violate the Geneva Convention's ban on biological weaponry?"
Simple stuff.
The next round of questions now. Art. They ask me to draw a sunrise in ten minutes. I do it in eight. I'm proud of myself, though I think my shading could have been better.
They ask me to write a paragraph on the practical purpose of art in six succinct sentences. In my head, the timer still ticks. One hour now.
Two hours to prove your worth to the world. I say they "ask" in the same way a military police officer asks you to step out of your vehicle. Everything is phrased so cordially. A very few people opt out entirely on moral grounds. If nothing has been put to the paper within ten minutes, the subject is "disqualified". I try not to think of their clinical alternative to saying "gassed".
The next round of questions is a bit trickier. Community."Name ten people in your life that you have directly helped."
Great, they're gauging my ability to lie. Anything too grandiose and they'd smell the bullshit all the way from behind that bulletproof glass. I concoct something about having bailed my best friend out for some rent money, talk about the the time I gave away my ration cards to a starving stranger and omitted the fact that I traded them for sexual favors. A few more embellishments later and I'm home free. Last section is a blank sheet of paper headed by one question, "Why is it wrong to end another person's life?"
Holy hell. What do I argue? Take the religious option and they label you a nutjob. Take the moral route and you may as well just opt out entirely. Two minutes pass. I stare blankly at this sheet. Every breath of air reeks with the phantom scent of roasted almonds, bleach and the vacated bowels of a thousand failures before me. Try not to think of your lips turning blue. Try not to think of two men in white uniforms hosing out the room before dragging your slumped over corpse out from under the desk.
I swear, they turned up the heat. My collar is damp and the shaking in my hands worsens. The audible ping of the countdown clock steadily doles out the last seconds of my examination. I scribble out my answer before hastily shoving it into the slot.
"Because it is illegal."
Seconds pass. The disarming feminine voice fills the room "Processing. Please wait." it repeats assuredly. Minutes pass, and it's all I can do not to shit myself. "Processing. Please Wait." Was this automated? Were they just picking out keywords? Word count? Penmanship? Was there a panel of white coats? I want to scream, I want to cry. I want to tell them to give me a goddamn answer. I hear the faintest of hisses.
And the doors open.
| As I entered the room, an instructor was waiting across the room sitting opposite me with a small white table laid out in front of him with an empty chair waiting for me. I let out a huge sigh and made my way to the chair and sat right in front of him.
"Good morning. For this test, I just have a few questions I would like to ask you." The man spoke in his white coat, black gloves, and a mask covering his mouth. "Sure.... Can't say that I'm not nervous!" I said as I let out a nervy laugh. *God damn it, just shut up and be normal!* He just looked at me expressionless and said "So, The first question I would like to ask you is what is your name?"
"Uhmm... Does it matter though? 90% of the population is about to be wiped from the face of this earth and my name is irrelevant." I said with confidence. Trying to sound intellectual I said, "In fact, I would like to know what your name actually is. With this job of interviewing people and deciding who gets to live, I take it as you are someone who is safe? Also, as someone who is important. I definitely would like to know who are you and what makes you an exception."
He sighed. He raised both his hands and said with a happy tone "My name is Dr. Axel. Now I have another question for you, do you want to live?" "Are you insane? Of course I do!" I said convincingly. Axel just shook his head disapprovingly and I was beginning to worry. *Did I say something wrong? I'm just being genuine and looking at the bigger picture here... Am I missing something?*
Axel stood up aggressively and glared at me. "Do you want to live knowing that your family are most likely not going to? Your friends. Your family. Your significant other. You may be that 10% that lives, but will you be the 10% that continues to live as you have lost almost everyone in your life? Now I ask you again, knowing that no one that you know is most likely going to die, do you want to live? No... no.... let me rephrase, do you want to continue living with that tragedy?"
I stood up and looked at him shocked. I said while fighting back tears, "Would you even find 10% of this population who will give up their loved ones just to live? What is the point of living after?" He said calmly "You can always to learn to love again."
I just shook my head, disappointed with humanity. What have we come into? To give up something precious and sacred to us. Then again, I knew it was a necessary move to save the human race. The question was, am I ready to give up everything? The answer was no, and I knew it. Axel knew it.
"I'm sorry, but I can't. Good luck finding that 10%. My family and friends are something I can't give up, even to save the human race. It sounds selfish but it's something that I would rather have than losing them. So yeah, I rather die with them, than to continue living alone." I said.
Axel nodded. He sat back down and told me "That would be all, you are free to leave." I glanced at him and looked away. I turned around and stood there for a while. Are we blinded by love that I can't be that 10% to continue to help humanity? Even if it was for the bigger picture? Yes. Yes it was to me, I rather live enjoying my last moments with my loved ones. I smiled.
**I was a dead man walking going into the room, but I came out of the room more alive than I was before.** | 2016-06-11T09:36:07 | 2016-06-11T09:06:11 | 116 | 16 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a test has been created to eliminate 90% of the worlds population. You are the first to take this test. | It wasn’t as I expected. This wasn’t quite the dystopian future looking governmental building but rather a modern one with glass doors and happy looking people. That’s what was perturbing. Everyone in the white lab coats looked calm or at peace. And I mean actually at peace, not the ones where you smile with your mouth and cry with your eyes.
I’d arrived fifteen minutes before the test was due to begin. I thought, knowing nothing about the test, I might be able to pick up on something if I arrive early and snoop around. So far I’d registered at reception and had been led to sit in a foyer with people doing their business around me. That’s what was making me feel really odd about this. This felt more like I was waiting to be interviewed than deciding if I got to live or not.
I was busy in my thought when I heard a crash. I looked up and saw a guy, roughly my age, standing by an upside down box holding his calf. He looked in pain. I guessed he had a cramp. I walked over and asked if he was ok, “I’m fine, just a really bad cramp” he smiled at me. I asked him if he wanted me to help, he said “I really need to deliver this box into meeting room 2. There’s a meeting starting in ten minutes and if I don’t get the box there in time, I’ll be in real big trouble but my calf is seized up and I don’t think I can walk all the way there” I asked the obvious question “can’t you get someone else to help?” he shook his head “it has to be me. Can you help me?” now here was a real dilemma. Do I help this guy and risk being late for my test, or just let him find someone else. This isn’t my problem. I’m sure someone else would help him. But then I thought, if I was in his shoes. I’d like someone to help me, so “sure, I’ll pick up the box, hold on to my arm and we’ll take it there together”
Just then I heard an announcement “test end”.
| The world was gray, cold, and often dark.
Growing up in the labyrinthine alleyways and sewer complexes and housing towers that was Neo Angeles, life was harsh and often short. A particularly lucky girl, Yima, had lived to the age of 14 unmolested. Slight, with hair kept short and boyish clothes, she blended in for the most part to avoid the unseemly fate that accosts most young and beautiful women of this era.
Too many clawing for too little, even the air felt tight and restrictive in the darkness most were born and often died in.
Very few made it out of the smog, out of the urban and out to the fewer Communes. Once those were too populated and rifts formed in the social strata of the Communist villages, they too were broken apart and consumed by the oncoming Automation of the world. Yima saw the last great Commune break apart, and wept on the border of the Payette National Forest; one of the last few great forests clinging to the Rockies.
Then came the pacification wars. The Neo-Socialists had gained real traction in the Hegemony. Soon, covert and brutal methods had led to real control over the masses and large parts of the government. Life was grim, and dark, and resettlement was constant as people fled the worst of government tyranny. Yima made a living for herself cleaning and cooking and writing spare bits of code for the elderly as she moved from place to place, not ever settling down.
Until her landlord, if he could have been called that, sold her and every complex he owned to the government. Armed with the information her landlord contained, they quickly found most that had lived there and quickly had them huddled in tents in an undisclosed location.
The people were afraid, and Yima was as well. Soon men in lab coats began forming them based on their last names, and in mute shock the people formed queues.
"Aahla, Yima." One of the scientists read off a list, bored; it wasn't a name he knew. The men scarcely looked up at her as she numbly walked from the front of the lines to the men. They smeared iodine on her arm before shoving a small, electronic Blood Sampler against her bare skin. The warm prick sent small waves of pain through her arms. One man nodded to her and took her over to the side corner of the tent, where she waited patiently for them to tell her anything, holding the cotton lethargically to her small pinprick.
One by one, each of the others was tested and led out. Only 3 more joined her out of the 50 or so that had been led off, like cattle.
She wondered where the others would go off to. | 2016-06-11T10:40:59 | 2016-06-11T09:35:08 | 40 | 27 |
[WP] You're sitting in a boring lecture, about to fall asleep when the professor asks two students to lock the doors. "We've discovered a traitor among us. No -one leaves until they're found." | Gah... I must have dazed off. Okay, no panic yet. Lecture isn't over. I could catch up. Maybe. Dammit, I'm in such a _sorry_ state.
*"Mr Sands, Miss Peterson. Can you please lock those doors?"*
*"Why? Was this scheduled?"*
*"It's essential for the lecture. Please lock them."* Prof produced a handful of padlocks.
Both TAs started to isolate 26.100 from the outside world. As they eventually finished, Professor gave all of us a stern look, and then he pulled up a blackboard. What does it s...?
"*OKAY! We have discovered a traitor among us. No one enters, and NO ONE LEAVES until this situation is* ***solved.****"* Oh Jesus. I haven't seen anyone change his mood so rapidly as this guy. Maybe Aunt Josephine, poor old lady. I heard a *cling*.
The flash from a grenade blinded me. An army of zombie graduates and postdocs rappeled from the hall's ceiling, brandishing bullpup rifles and fancy armor. They inmediately started searching for someone, front and back. Closing in.
*"That one! Get him!* ***NOW!****"*
Two of those people grabbed me by the leg and neck, then started dragging me to the plywood podium.
*"What is going on? Where is he going?"* hollered another student. *"I'm calling MIT Police!"*
*"Faraday cage, sweetie. And the landlines are cut. These kids do anything for money."*
A postdoc put a bullet in her head before she could notice there was no signal. IHTFP cries were echoed by those who had not fainted yet. I was being held next to Professor Zwiebach. He unveiled two Vandegraaff generators.
*"You can confess your sins now, traitor! Your offence is beyond anything we could forgive!"*
I stood there, between both Vandegraaffs, as Prof shouted to me. Madman.
*"Silent? Well, we shall now burn this skeptic, and make sure he never disturbs the faith of* ***string theory!****"*
I wish I hadn't chosen a Physics major. | AP Microeconomics just got interesting.
The professor was babbling on about commodities when suddenly I hear the click of a sealed fate. All screens are dark and everyone is casting accusatory looks at one another. They all look uneasy. Suddenly I hear the clang of a desk being jostled, and the professor has a gun in his hand. "No one leaves. No bathroom breaks, no locker visits, no tardy bells. The only person leaving here is going to be doing so in a body-bag. The traitor is not getting away." A dawn of realization flashes in my mind. I've heard of the shadowy group of students pulling the strings of the school behind the curtain. Mostly hushed whispers, but I've always had the feeling they were true. Looks like a boring lecture has turned into an execution. Laremy Frask, a tall boy who is usually absorbed in the exciting world of commerce, speaks up.
"I saw Ugo leaving the school with a suspicious briefcase last week. He was having an intense phone conversation with someone." Several others murmured in agreement. Ugo looked shocked at the accusation.
"Hey man, that was just a project for AP Chem. You know I wouldn't betray the school!"
Several boys, presumably Ugo's friends, stood up to encourage him. They shot death glares at Laremy's gaggle of prosecutors. It was the girls' turn to speak. Jessica, an office aid notorious for her honeyed words, smirked as she delivered her side of the session.
"You know, I THINK I saw Laremy snooping around the archives room the other day. He looked quite guilty when I found him." Jessica's clique piped up too. "Oh yeah, definitely." "Uh huh"
Laremy sputtered a feeble defense. "Come on guys. We all know Christina's known for her tricks. Please guys. Don't do this."
Meanwhile, I look upon with a mixture of interest and horror. I was taken aback by my fellow classmates' willingness to throw each other under the bus. Ugo and Laremy have been in classes together for years. Hell, I know everyone in the room from at least one year ago! I look at Joseph, my friend. He too seems to be looking on with fascination. Both of us and a few others are neutral bystanders, tensed up for what's next. Then, the unthinkable happens.
The escalating conflict reaches a boiling point. Someone whips out a knife. The gun that was on the Professor's desk is gone. A shot is fired. Suddenly, the door bursts open and 3 armed officers storm in. How someone got a call out without anyone noticing I have no idea. Then, the world dissolves into blues and reds.
My first entry on here. Formatting may be a bit weird. Cheers! | 2016-09-08T17:52:06 | 2016-09-08T17:35:27 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] The last time the aliens invaded our planet they fled after losing the war. They have reluctantly returned to wage war and are relieved to see that dinosaurs no longer inhabit Earth, but have been replaced by the smaller and less intimidating humans. | Finally, a chance for redemption.
We were headed back to Earth, a lowly mineral planet in a desolate corner of the quadrant. I can still remember the taunting words of Elder Karaza...
*"You lost.... to a bunch of lizards?"*
Yes, it still stings.
I now armed my warriors with long range heavy bows, crossbows and even a few ballistas. THIS would keep that damned Tyrant Lizard away from my troops. No more eating for you tonight!
Shoring up my emotions into a passive mask, We landed once again at the arrival point. The grassy fields looked much the same, but the addition of a spinning fan that moved with the wind was a new one. Perhaps the lizards evolved into something more intelligent?
No matter, we were here to destroy them once and for all. As soon as the ship touched down, we arranged ourselves in a standard box formation, shieldbearers on the outside and bowmen on the inside. I ordered the move towards the fan thing, only to spy a primitive dwelling of wood and stone. Maybe they DID evolve. As we approached, a new Earth creature stepped out. I switched my language router on, and set to autotranslate. PERHAPS it would work.
***
Farmer Macready walked out to see the strange formation of shields and aliens approaching. It didn't look like the aliens in his sons comic, but more like a Roman legion. He stopped, then stood on his porch chewing on a blade of grass. He spit into the bucket on the creaking wood, then leaned against the doorframe.
"Can I help you, gentlemen?"
***
"...gentlemen?"
The words were innocent enough, but I could feel his tension. My archers raised their bows as I responded.
"We have come to end this. We suffered defeat at your hands eons ago, and now I have come to right the injustices heaped upon us."
With no more words, my archers fired. Not one arrow hit the strange creature, but no matter. He scrambled back into his dwelling as arrows continued to thunk heavily into the wood structure. I heard something break, and then a metal tube poked out. With a voice like thunder and spewing flame, the metal tube bucked upwards, and I saw the first shieldbearer go down hard. He was bleeding green ichor form a large hole in his thorax.
"SHORE UP! CLOSE THE HOLE AND CALL THE OTHERS!"
I started the formation away from the dwelling, as another thunderous boom sounded. Hundreds of metallic pings echoed around me as I felt the sting of an insect. Sounding retreat, we headed towards the ship to regroup.
(To be continued) | "What in the void is that?"
It was the first real question Master of Fleets had commed to Master of Spies. Their arrival had been uneventful, certainly compared to the disorder in which the fleet had departed their last foray into this accursed system, so many revs ago. Arriving on the solar outskirts with admirable precision, the hulking Vauts and nimble Demi-Vauts had coasted as silent and cold as space rocks for a double clawful of seasons, their Masters chafing at the indignity but loathe to admit it; they knew full well the price of being seen by this system's inhabitants. Several Vauts still bore the scars of buckled plates and scorched hull, reminders of the failure that all were forced to wear.
From the shadow of their target's remaining moon, Master of Spies had deployed his drones carefully, first mapping the inevitable changes in the geography that had occurred in their long absence. The active geology of this place had excited the small remnant that remained inside of the explorer he had been so long ago, but his reports were short and to the point. The super-continent was gone, and distance offered the chance to defeat the Foe in detail.
But now...
"I do not know, O Master of Fleets. They match no known specimens we have encountered." Around him, a multitude of limbs flashed and danced, his staff attempting to gain insight into this unexpected mystery. The feed that was causing such consternation focussed and sharpened, the finely crafted lenses drawing in on a tall and distended creature, one of the many pale striders, it seemed, populating the wild collection of metal and glass spires that had first drawn the machine's attention.
"They do not look like the Foe. Some servant race, perhaps?" Master of Spies suppressed the instinct to billow his crest in exasperation. Master of Fleets had an irritating tendency to stick her beak where she had no business speculating. He certainly didn't go around offering suggestions on formations or battle tactics. Worse still, she might be right.
"That is one possibility, among many." He chose his words with care, speaking with long years of practice. Of necessity. "It will require further analysis. For the moment, the facts remain uncertain. We have seen no trace of the Foe as yet, but as our drones are attempting to remain as hidden as possible-"
"It will be some time yet before we know. Yes, Master of Spies, I grasp that." The Master of Fleets clicked her talons in mild rebuke, and he fought against the instinctive bow of submission that had been bred into his bones. "I may not approach your years, but I was not released from the hatchery last rev."
"O-of course, O Exalted Master of Fleets. I shall comm you as soon as we know more." Hatred and revulsion filled him as he heard his voice break, knew she had heard it as well.
"Yes, my Master of Spies. Yes...you will." Her mocking gaze lingered with him long after the screen darkened.
At the very least, he thought as he turned his focus towards the enigmatic planet below, the prospect cataloguing of a new species, even one in service of the Foe, would make for a more interesting trip. | 2017-03-04T03:25:46 | 2017-03-04T02:50:19 | 452 | 14 |
[WP] You are a normal person who spent your entire life infiltrating the evil Empire. You even became the Emperor's right hand. The day before you finally topple the Empire, the hero arrives, kills the Emperor, and saves the day.
Now how does that make you feel? | The hero looked at me, bewildered. Not three feet away from him lay the body of the "immortal" Emperor, with the hero's sword through his heart.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand the problem." He said, "I defeated him. You're free!"
"The problem is that you're undermining the plight of the common man, aren't you?" I said, waving a hand to the Emperor's dead body. "*Some* of us spend decades infiltrating the Empire because *some* of us weren't blessed by the Goddess with immense strength and durability!"
"But I was given these gifts to help *free* the common man, to-"
"Tell me, how long have you been working your way here? Two months? Three? How long ago did you actually *hear* about the Emperor? Because I'll bet it was maybe a day before you decided to 'put an end to their tyranny' as your lot love to say."
The hero remained quiet for a moment, "It was four months." They said eventually, like it mattered.
"And let me guess, you lost a love interest along the way? Maybe your favourite horsey?" I spat, "Well some of us were *raised* under this tyranny! We've had families disappear off the streets! We've endured this for nearly a century! And then *finally* one of us, *me*, gets in! Works their way up to be their right-hand man! Commits unspeakable horrors to gain their trust all so I can destroy his Soul Shielding at just the right time and plunge a dagger in his back!"
"Well, I'm sorry that I timed my heroics so poorly," The hero said with more than a hint of snark, shifting his tune as he went of the defensive, "If I'd known you were going to be so ungrateful-"
"No. *No.* You don't get to pull that shit here." I cut in again, "All you've done is reinforce the fatalistic idea that people should just sit around and wait for someone else to help them because the common man isn't good enough. How many empires could have liberated themselves *decades* ago if people hadn't just kept their heads down and said 'Someone else will do it, a hero will come'? And it's not exactly like you did this out of the kindness of your heart, is it? You've made a greater name for yourself as a hero! I'll hazard to guess you were even promised land or an esteemed title, weren't you?"
"That is unfair!" the hero protested, "I was promised no such thing!"
"Oh. Then they probably promised you they'd enchant your weapon, right?"
My accusation was met with silence.
"See? That's *worse*! You didn't save us because you wanted to, you saved us because you were promised a better *sword*!" I paused for a moment, burying my head in my hands for a few seconds. "Just... just go." I muttered into my palms, "You've already undermined decades of planning, just go take your sword to your enchanter and leave."
The hero stood there uneasily for several seconds. Eventually they walked over to the corpse of the Emperor, removed their sword from his chest and left through the secret passage they'd entered through. The same passage I'd convinced the Emperor not to board up so I could catch him by surprise. The nerve.
Slowly, I made my way out of the temple. I knew what had to be done. No one could know what had really happened here, the people needed to think that their plans had succeed. I was going to need to lie and tell them all I had killed the Emperor and then... Then I would leave. I would disappear from memory. I'd made so many sacrifices already, what was one more? It was too risky to try to play the role of corrupt Emperor myself in order to give the people a true victory, another hero might slay me before the people had their chance. No, I would need to leave and never speak of this day again. And if a hero ever wandered in claiming to have slain the Emperor themselves?
Well, they'd be known throughout the kingdom as a liar. | Today is the day I kill Emperor Fargon.
The crimes he committed must no longer remain unpunished. The people of the Hilmon Galaxy need their savior, and I will be that man to them. I am a champion of the common folk, the light in the dark void of an amoral empire, the hero hiding behind the guise of the Emperor's right hand man.
It's been nearly a decade since I infiltrated the empire. Years ago I lived peacefully as a jorb farmer on Grillax with a loving wife and two young daughters, ages 7 and 12 respectively. My jorbs won accolades for being the juiciest jorbs on the planet. Oh yes, I lived the Grillaxian dream.
Then the empire stole my happiness away.
The skies darkened. Above my inconspicuous farm hovered a quite conspicuous Heliship. Suddenly, men armed with scimitar shotguns rained on my farm and our village. Later I learned a foreign spy had taken residence in the local pub, but that moment felt as if we were being punished for nothing. The swarm knocked me unconscious before I had time to blink.
As my eyes reopened and the fog lifted from my concussed brain, I noticed him. Emperor Fargon loomed over my wife's dead body and turned to my children. Tears began streaming down my face. I opened my mouth to cry out for help, I told my body to rush to my daughters and save them from this fiend, but my body was paralyzed from the head injury. He reached out to my eldest daughter and snapped her neck without a hesitation, as if he were playing a game and had no humanity left in his soul. Then he grabbed my younger daughter and took her as his prisoner. All feeling left my heart except for rage. I vowed at that moment I would be the one to end the Empire's reign and feel the Emperor's neck snap between my cold hands. I blacked out.
When I awoke, I set out with my plan. I burned half of my face to hide my identity. Then, I joined the Empire to take them down from the inside. I killed for the Empire time and time again as I slowly moved up the ranks. The blood on my hands kept me awake every night, but I made sure to only end the lives of soldiers and not civilians. I will not stoop to Fargon's level. Finally I reached a rank where the Emperor would listen to my advice. A couple of well thought out counter strikes against the Resistance and I earned myself a seat as the Emperor's right hand man.
Tonight, the Emperor asked me to make him a feast. We just conquered Talian, one of the final Resistance holding spots, and it was time for celebration. I knew I could not physically take the Emperor down myself, so I concocted poison that will render him unconscious so I can feel his neck snap in my hands like he felt my innocent daughter's neck snap.
The food is here now, and the emperor picks up his fork to enjoy his final meal. My time is finally here......
Rosencrantz, a no name soldier, rushes in.
"There's a breach in the ship's hull, sir!" he screeches. The Emperor looks displeased.
"Send out the first unit and take care of these pests."
As he spews the command, he stands up from his meal.
"No time for food now, we must reach the planning room."
Fuck. Well, the meal will be here for him to consume later.
"Yes, master," I say begrudgingly, having thought my days of groveling were over just moments ago.
We briskly walk through the corridors. And then, he walks in. Tall, dark, and handsome. He flashes a grin with sparkling charisma and draws his pulse cannon. He aims at me.
Blam.
My ass skids across the floor. I am in a delirium. As I come to I notice a blade entering the Great Leader. Oh. He is dead now. How about that. Not even a snapped neck.
"Looks like I'm just a cut above the rest," the hero chortled. Maybe I will snap his neck instead.
He points his gunblade at me.
Bang.
The gunshot punctures my lung.
"Fuck... I.. was going to kill him today you fool... why..." I gurgled to our new hero.
"Aw well, I guess some people are just casualties of war."
Is that all I am? My entire family, including myself, are just casualties of war? I killed hundreds... no, thousands of men fighting for the Resistance just to gain the trust of one man to kill. I stood by his side as he destroyed civilization after civilization. And I am now dying as his right hand man after watching him die. I will die a villain.
Oh well, at least the benefits were nice.
Curtain. | 2017-03-12T13:41:34 | 2017-03-12T10:31:44 | 469 | 77 |
[WP] You are a normal person who spent your entire life infiltrating the evil Empire. You even became the Emperor's right hand. The day before you finally topple the Empire, the hero arrives, kills the Emperor, and saves the day.
Now how does that make you feel? | "Weren't you suppose to take that blow?"
I looked at this irritating woman incredulously. Was she serious?
"It is good fortune you didn't, but I thought that Xavier Longwood would have protected Kane even if his men had abandoned him."
"So you know of me?" I couldn't help but respond. I looked at the trio of misfits who had accompanied this women into the Emperor's suite. Two hulking brothers who had the IQ of a toad and some gangly archer had subdued the half dozen guards and two other councilmen who had been staying with the Emperor.
"I memorized all of the important people in the Empire, why wouldn't the Emperor's second be any different? The man born a baker's son and has spent fifty years becoming much more." Her sword was still pointing in my direction, so there was no way she trusted me. It was what it was.
I let out a sigh. "Of course." I finally recognized her dark green hair, with a natural shading that I had only seen once before. "You must be the daughter of that Planter fellow. The one who stabbed the emperor as Prince Arn since he had a forest razed. I'm guessing this is your revenge?" I was only talking to avoid getting killed. This event had occured twenty years before, early in my infiltration into the Empire when the old emperor ruled
"My father was not some fellow! He was a protector of the forest, a title handed down since the true rulers of Scoren reigned, the Winchesters! A forest your emperor destroyed for no good reason! One of them many evil things you helped him do. You have served this empire for decades, and have stayed quiet as he ended thousands. Why shouldn't I kill you as you stand?" The heroine began to point her sword in a far more threatening manner.
"Did you forget about Wallace and Monroe? Or the Emperor's youngest brother Stallone? You have done nothing except ruin the end of the Empire." I began to work into my rant, but I was cut off.
"Ruin the end? I know what he was doing here. He was going to kill the Lamons ambassador and declare war on them for the resources of the Western Sea. And it would have been either fight for the Emperor or die!"
"It was going to be a coup that ended the Kane empire you fools!" I realized the eyes of the allies to the hero in the room were on me, and that all others were dead. I was the last to enter this room with the former emperor to live. I was going to make the mercy count.
"You have no idea who the ambassador from Lamons is, now do you?"
The four of them couldn't help but shake their heads. The archer pointed his bow in the direction of Allen, one of the dead councilmen. "No, we only got from spying on him the plot to kill him." He seemed the too honest type.
"It is Sly Kane."
"Impossible! He was executed last year for defying the emperor! He had no remorse for his nephew."
"But I did, and forced another prisoner to take his place. And I sent him to Lamons, where he gathered the trust of the royalty and we continued our plot to end the Empire. So tomorrow, while the Emperor comes with 30 men and his close advisors, Lamons had brought 300. It would have been a bloodbath that ended everyone relevant to the Empire. And as the highest ranking heir. Sly would have taken the throne and converted power into a parliament, much like Lamons is. But with the Emperor dead, those men I spoke of earlier will run and know something is up. The assault on Lamons will occur and many men and women will die to your overzealousness."
They looked shaken as I told them this, as I explained to them their folly. Then one of the oafs spoke.
"But if we kill them, we still good?"
"Huh? You mean Wallace and Monroe and Stallone and the others that would have been there? They are spread in multiple locations, with many a guard. Arn was arrogant and thought he would not be attacked and brought among his weakest with him."
"But Lamons has 300 men you said." The oaf pointed a giant hole in my logic.
He was right. If we attacked now, this could be salvaged. "Alright, but we must move fast. Stallone will be here shortly to speak with his brother, and he will alert the rest once he sees the dead. Sly is staying in a tavern not far from here, while Lamons decoy ambassador is three floors below. We must move quickly." I began to look at the heroine who still was pointing her sword threateningly at me.
She looked around and sighed before putting her sword down. "Fine, but I will help. I wish to meet this future leader, and to see if he is true or if he is using you to further his goals."
I chuckled as I went to gather my cloack I needed for this excursion. "I have been doing this for longer than you have been alive. Waiting for this day to end it all at once. If I thought Sly could betray me, I would have let him die." I made sure it covered my face well enough and made my way to the door.
"Let us finish this."
| A taciturn air filled the room. The Emperor, Kretz and Fenton were discussing matter of state. 2 out of the 3 men at the long table were thinking intently, brainstorming plans to deal with some usurper. The fifth man was too excited, and had to make a conscious effort to not be jittery. Years of secrets and lies, despicable acts carried out with a greater plan in mind, were about to pay off. This usurper was just the distraction that the man needed to put his end-game, his final plan, in place.
"Is this man really a threat? We've seen thousands of these would-be liberators." Egnorak, the rightful ruler of Arkartha and all around scum of a human being was saying.
"He has taken over the Balterlands. Nobody has gone that far in the past. With their forces..." Kretz trailed off. Nobody at the table had to be reminded of the force of the Balterlands. The biweekly tennis games had been a manslaughter.
"But still, there is no way he could take over the city. Our walls are too strong." Fenton interjected. It was no use to him for the Emperor to be so on guard the day before his final comeuppance. Egnorak sat at the head of the table and pondered. These matters of administration were never his favorite part of the job. Striking fear into the hearts of his loyal cannon fodder was by far the best part of the job, in his professional opinion. He mostly went with the opinion of his advisers whenever possible, and defaulted to Fenton's opinion, his longest lasting and most loyal adviser, whenever there was a disagreement among them. This was different, however. This usurper had annoyed him. All his talk of "freedom" and "basic human rights". He needed to be taught a lesson.
"Something needs to be done. This man has offended me to my very core, taking over land that is mine by rights! We send the troops out tomorrow!" Kretz's eyes gleamed, all he really wanted to accomplish in his life was to be respected by Egnorak. Fenton showed a flash of unhappiness, but that was interpreted by the other men as frustration at his opinion being ignored. In reality, Fenton was already imagining the administrative headaches of recalling the armed forces after they had just been dispatched.
"Good meet, gents. I trust I'll see you at the banquet this weekend. It isn't everyday that your dog turns 4."
Amidst promises that they wouldn't miss it for the world, a terrible shaking overtook the room. The men all rocketed out of their chairs, and ran to the balcony facing the city proper. They arrived just in time to see part of the city walls come down, and what looked to be the main force of the Balterlands come rushing through.
_________________________________________________________________
The three men waited now in the throne room, surrounded by weary guards as the unready main force of the city were unceremoniously slaughtered by fierce Balterlandians. The roaring sound of battle crept ever closer, until the giant door of the throne room itself was being beaten upon. The guards in there suits of armor marched to the door and stood in formation. They were not warriors, more comfortable intimidating peasants than in battle, and it showed.
The door came buckling down, as everyone knew it would. The cheap doors of the castle had been a point of contention between the advisers to the emperor, Fenton saying that it was more of a show of strength and confidence, really to have poor infrastructure. Plus who wouldn't want to save a buck or too? Kretz looked sideways at Fenton with a look that seemed to say *I told you so*, but was afraid to say anything out loud with Egnorak in his current mood. The room had been void of all conversation since they had arrived. Egnorak sat on his throne, the look on his face not conveying anything, not conveying that he really felt nothing at all. Not conveying that he knew in his heart of hearts that it was over, but that he was still in denial.
The guards were rushed by the force outside, and were quickly dispatched. The Balterlandians pushed past the corpses of the guards, and then parted. A lone man walked through. He was wearing ornate golden armor, and he was a head taller than the rest of the forces.
"Egnorak! Let's settle this like men. I, Kevin, will have one final battle with you, and I will conquer this evil empire once and for all!"
Egnorak was no warrior, either. He looked at his two advisers, and before anyone could say anything, Kretz had leap at the man, with a fire in his eyes that temporarily shocked him. A fire in the eyes could not deal with a suit of armor and years of experience warring, however. Kretz was quickly dispatched, and his body fell to the floor with a loyal thump. Kevin looked back at the throne. Egnorak hadn't moved. He took one last look at Fenton, at the sword on his hip. Fenton flashed back to all the things he had done, to all the brutal killings he had overseen in Egnorak's name. This isn't how this was supposed to go, but it had to go somehow. With a look of disgust that couldn't be interpreted by anyone in the room, Fenton took his sword out of its scabbard, and dropped it on the ground.
Fenton had made it to the balcony again before he heard the screaming. The stoic non feeling act had apparently been dropped as the fighting began. Fenton didn't care. He could not stop thinking about the atrocities. Images flashed in his mind as he kept walking, and followed him all the way down.
______________________________________
/r/Periapoapsis | 2017-03-12T13:26:11 | 2017-03-12T10:41:50 | 124 | 20 |
[WP] Compared to the rest of the galaxy humanity is by far the friendliest. To many star systems they are considered "the good neighbor," and are known for their helpfulness. One day an oblivious system declares war on humanity, only to find half of the galaxy responding to humanity's plea for aid.
EDIT: Tfw this prompt gets 100+ upvotes and still no story
EDIT: Nice, we got a story.
EDIT: Wow we got a lot of stories! Thanks to all who contributed to this thread.
| Memory Shard Log 3.18.7
Twenty cycles ago, today, the Concordat is signed. The younger races imposed a voluntary exile upon us. Consigned upon our last world around this star, we succumbed to their last vengeful spite. I and a few others have been left on the Marisma trying to save the failing power of this facility, for three hundred thousand souls are still sleeping in its confines. All we hope is that they'd wake up when the others would hate us no more, since we few remaining are infertile, and I fear that three quarters already got the Simbalis.
Yet I don't feel any contempt for the younger races. We are an old, stagnated society that tried to reassure our position in the known galaxy. We reasoned that we are the progenitors of these lesser races, seeded their worlds with life so that they can serve us in the future, left artifacts on their worlds that let them remodel their own understanding of the universe. Subjugation and violence is what we answered to their declarations of humility and respect. Our empire rejoiced at what we thought was our awakening. It was short lived.
Kalomek. That's what we called them. A result of our experiments with the local wildlife, these bipeds of Habarri 3 were said to be the most promising of all the races. Achieved space flight a hundred cycle or so after industrialization. Waged conflicts with themselves until they wanted no more. Facing ruin, they instead united and spread across the Bevelik arm. They engineered a flawless society, a utopia. They prospered, and helped the lesser races to achieve their own. Except for us they are the dominant force in the galaxy. Through influence. Through peace. Through friendship
We thought that they stole it. Our glory, for themselves. We were jealous of their position as we try to reassert our own.
And so our forces spread throughout their territory. For some reason, they eschewed militaristic ideals in favor of diplomacy and integration. What few of their precious advancements were slaughtered by our armadas. Yet they refused to surrender, to be subjugated. Our own losses started to mount as we move to occupy their colonies. How they ferociously try to guard their freedom and liberty, even at the cost of their lives. We felt fear. Then anger. Then hate. We felt that we simply had to kill them all. It will be a fool's gambit to leave any Kalomek alive.
The other lesser races rushed to their aid. Those who have been helped by these upstarts. Edselons, chirrons, bedefaris, and a lot more declared their allegiance to their protector. A federation was proclaimed in Habarri 3 to stem the tide of our advance. We'll prove them wrong.
Yet, it is us who were put in place. After so many trillions of lives lost, the war is over with the extinction of the Kalomeks, our sole consolation. Twenty billion of our own souls left, confined in our homeworld, never to sail the stars again. Which is now a pipe dream, as I can only count the waking souls here with me, and with this number we can't even fly a kaklam.
Three hundred thousand souls in our hands, slumbering, imvaris free. The facility's power supply started failing last night, sol-sovarinam. I'm afraid that we might join the Kalomeks in the afterlife. After all, we both fell to the same imvaris that destroyed their race.
Although now that I think of it, it would not be so bad if I can share a tyuka with them. After all, I would like it very much if they can extend their soft limbs again in the name of friendship and peace. I have always wondered, might have been the course of history if we held theirs in the first place?
EDIT: Thanks a lot guys for the warm welcome. I have always imagined grand space sagas in my head, and actually letting them all out here is a relief. It's also my first time here at WP and it's very exciting that you liked this gem of mine. | General mcGregor considered himself a realist.
He believed that all life acted selfishly, and that war was an inescapable reality.
Yet next to the Zergon general, he felt like a squeamish school girl, bristly white moustache or no.
"I-I just don't understand," he muttered, shuffling his papers at the war table. General K'lik hooted in the way he'd come to associate with laughing. They were not too different from humans, surprisingly, these Zergons.
"What's to understand?" K'lik said, his reptilian face giving way to a menacing grin. The Universal translator broadcasted his thoughts almost instantaneously. "We are capable of destroying earth, so we will. But first, we will revel in torturing you all to death, and bathe in your bodily fluids." He shrugged. "We're not monsters, so I've come to discuss the terms on how long the torture will last."
McGregor felt like crying, but kept up a tough front. "We have weapons, you know," he said in an old, shaky voice. "Weapons that could-"
"The atomic energy bombs?" K'lik burst out laughing, leaning to his advisor. "They're jokers, these humans." He turned back to mcGregor. "Launch them, by all means. We like a nice sauna."
The president was sitting next to mcGregor, and was the first to break. "What do you want us to do, then?! What are your demands?!"
"I wan't you," said K'lik with glittering eyes. "To die entertainingly."
Suddenly a glowing blob materialized next to K'lik. It flashed in a sort of alien morse code, but the Universal translator inadvertandly picked it up. "K'lik, why are you messing with earth? Come on, we agreed...they're too pure."
"But I'm bored!" K'lik countered.
Another creature materialized, a Lovecraftian horror. "This is so like you Zergons. Corrupting all the good stuff. I mean, I get it, but some part of me just wants these adorable things to go on."
An infathomable darkness leaked from the ceiling, booming: "Yeah, leave the humans alone, K'lik."
General mcGregor had already wet his pants at the Lovecraftian alien, and didn't really feel like contributing anymore. Next to him, the president had fainted.
The glowing blob spoke again: "Besides, they've been kind enough to let us steal their immortal essence without any retaliation. If you wipe them out, it'll mean no more immortal essence."
The general perked up.
"Ah, you guys are no fun," K'lik said. "We were only going to torture them a little, not wipe them out."
"Excuse me," McGregor squeeked, recovering to his deep, authoritary voice. "What is... immortal essence?"
The aliens seemed surprised. Even the looming darkness above flashed briefly.
"You mean you don't *know?*" the glowing Blob asked.
K'lik burst out laughing, and the Lovecraftian horror said: "Didn't I tell you? Adorable!"
"The stuff that keeps you from ageing upon adulthood," the darkness boomed. "It's what gives all life in the Galaxy strength."
"And you've been stealing ours?!" General mcGregor reddened, but then a dangerous quiet stole over him. "Oh, of course we knew. You're right, we are too kind." A thin smile. "Now, if you don't mind, this prank has gone on long enough. Please leave us."
K'lik snorted, but the others urged him on to listen. One by one, they dematerialized.
Once they were gone, mcGregor picked up the phone on the wall, after shaking the president.
"The horror..." the president muttered as he came to. "The horror..."
"Snap out of it, man," the general snapped, dialing the military science department. "Yes, hello? This is mcGregor. How are the readings on the war room?"
"The unusual radiation we were picking up increased in discrete leaps when the entities materialized, general," a prompt voice said. "But it almost completely disappeared when they left."
"That radiation is what gives them their strength," mcGregor said. "Investigate immediately. I expect results by next week."
"But general," the man protested, "It's a completely alien substance, it's impossible to-"
"No," mcGregor cut him off. "Not alien. *Ours.*"
He slammed the phone.
"*Our* immortal essence," he muttered with a vicious glare.
It was time these aliens learned just how 'adorable' humans could be. | 2017-03-26T05:34:24 | 2017-03-26T05:17:47 | 401 | 163 |
[WP] You are the owner of a magic backpack; every morning you stick your hand in and it contains exactly what you need for the day. One morning it contains a gun. | I feel my blood chill as I stare at the gun in my hands. The backpack has never given me anything like this! One day, it had a towel, and later that day, I got splashed by a car driving through a puddle. It had an interesting book the day my doctors appointment was unexpectedly delayed. But why would it have a gun? What will I need a gun for? Holy shit, is someone going to kill me? I start to break into a cold sweat.
Should I just stay home today? No... that won't work. Once, out of curiosity, I tried staying home all day when I pulled an umbrella out of my bag, only to have my friend bobby visit me asking to borrow an umbrella for a photo idea he had. No matter what I do, I'm going to have to use this gun.
Who the hell would have any reason to kill me? Is it my boss? I know I came in late a few days ago... is he going to kill me for that? No... don't be stupid, he can just fire me. Is it my sister? I know I called her a bitch last family reunion, but I didn't mean it! I can't believe I'm going to get killed because I called my sister a bitch!
No calm down, my sister's not going to kill me. But who will? I can't think of anyone. Maybe I accidentally stumbled upon a government secret. Maybe... maybe whoever made this backpack wants it back. Oh shit that's gotta be it. Maybe the backpack was part of a top secret government experiment, but for some reason it wound up in the second hand shop I bought it from. And now the government wants to kill me and take it back! Oh god help me, I don't want to be branded a terrorist!
Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder. In a panic, I turn around and hammer the trigger on the gun.
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
"Woah there." says Bobby, who is now right in front of me. "You almost had me fooled with that model gun you're carrying. Actually, speaking of that, I had this great idea for a photo, but I need a model gun. Can I borrow that one?" | "A gun."
"Why a gun?!" I yell in panic, realising this afterwards and lowering my voice.
There was no doubt that I was always the odd one in my neighbourhood. I was that one girl in the apartment block that kept her life together by pieces of dusty cellotape. It just so happened that that tape, was a bag. Yes, a bag. One day I bought a knock off bag from an old shop in the Lake District, and since then every morning it has given me what I need for the day. Good timing, too. Almost eerily good timing, as my life was at its breaking point; whenever I was broke I woke up and there'd be money for sandwiches and coffee. Or there'd be ready meals or meal vouchers- you name it, I got it.
That's how I got to this morning. I woke up with the same curiosity as I had had for the past year. I got changed for my job (at McDonalds, might I add), made myself a crappy cup of coffee and picked up my backpack. I left the complex and walked down the road to my place of work. In the mornings, we got complimentary drinks depending on our situation or the time we were working, as I worked the early morning shift I was always greeted with a frappé, which was most appreciated. I got myself ready for the counter shift and checked the usual compartment in my backpack, seeing if the new "thing" was anything I would need that looked work related. It wasn't.
I pulled out a small hand gun.
Why the hell would I need this today? Was it some kind of sick joke? Can this bag even tell jokes?
I felt sick to the stomach, and threw the gun back into the bag. I felt wrong, I felt guilty.
The whole day as I worked I felt anxious. Why did the bag give me a gun? I couldn't just whip it out and keep it beside me as protection, I'd surely be arrested on the spot. So I worked my shift and got ready to leave.
I work most of the day, because I have virtually nothing else to do. Because of this, I'm usually the first one there and one of the last ones there. This means when leaving I have to take the trash out and check the bathrooms.
Still on edge, I checked the bathrooms and picked up the trash. Exiting the backdoor of the restaurant, I put the trash in the bin and turned to leave.
That's when I saw a figure standing a ways in front of me. Shaking, I slowly backed up to the wall and grabbed my backpack. The figure noticed me. I saw the head spin towards me, still fumbling with the backpack's string. Not looking up, I heard footsteps advance and before the gruff voice could finish calling out my name I..
I shot
And I shot
And I shot, and shot, and shot.
I was sobbing hysterically at this point.
I knew who it was that I had killed. | 2017-05-09T19:06:55 | 2017-05-09T14:14:53 | 62 | 24 |
[WP] After people die, they must answer a riddle, and its difficulty depends on their sins. You've committed genocide. | After death there is a plain which stretches endless without horizon. Ups and downs are lefts and rights while the constant sound of color rustles in the air. It is there I found myself. In a land of nothing, surrounded by everything, and utterly confused.
I remembered life. All of it. Vividly. From the first thoughts as I lay in the womb to the last thoughts as I stared down the barrels of my execution. I remember the faces of my killers. They will get what is coming to them.
Or will they? They are alive, and I am supposedly dead. In the great expanse of lifelessness it really doesn't matter. Does it?
How long have I been here? It is impossible to tell. Perhaps a minute or an eon. Surely those men of the firing squad have died by now. I wonder if they are here somewhere. I would find them if they were, and kill them. If they could be killed. Can you kill someone already dead? I suppose everyone can die. Even me.
But does death even matter? The soldiers will die, but they mean little. Just grunts for the grinder whose greatest claims to fame will be my execution. They are little men. A lot of dead little men in the world. Killed a lot of them myself, but they didn't matter. They were little people. Insignificant. Not like me, I was something when I lived. But... even I died. So I suppose our deaths don't matter.
But at least I lived. Oh did I live. I was the master of men, and beckoned death at my very whim. They bowed to me, and I granted them life or I destroyed them. I once razed a village because a dog barked at my procession. That showed them their place. Dead. Like me.
So. If we everyone dies, regardless of who they are. And everyone lives, at least for a while. But it doesn't matter how long or how well one lives or dies. If we all end up in the merciless plain, then what is the meaning of life?
I sat upon the endless plain and smelled the colorful eternity of death.
What is the meaning of life? | There was no bright light. No singing angels, nor pits of hell. It was like I woke up from a night's sleep - only I was standing, fully clothed and aware of everything. There was an odd, hum of calm that seemed to surround everything, which was nothing at all. A woman who stood in the nothingness, an emotionless expression on her face. She was fit, but not gaunt; solemn but not sad; quiet, but not quite yet unnerving. She was as average and mousy as they came.
"I am young, I am not gallant. I am old, I am not wise. I am not good, I am evil. What am I?" Her voice could have put me to sleep, had the situation been different.
"Excuse me?" My tone was sharp and I can only imagine the look of utter confusion on my face.
"You have to answer in order to determine your fate," she said with the same unwavering tone. She repeated herself, slower this time. "I am young. I am not gallant. I am old. I am not wise. I am not good. I am evil. What am I?"
"My fate?" I scoffed. "I hate to inform you, but I'm dead. Whatever my fate was has already been decided." I don't know why I felt that's what was going on, but somehow I just knew. It was more of a fact in my bones than a feeling. The woman stared at me entirely too long before answering, as if the additional conversation were a nuisance.
"Yes, you have died. However, you fate is decided by how you answer the question. You are responsible for the deaths of 317 people." She paused, the number lingering in the air. "So, I'll ask again."
"I am young, I am not gallant. I am old, I am not wise. I am not good, I am evil. What am I?" I hated riddles, a stupid waste of time and brain space. I also had no idea what that had to do with those people - no, those animals. I did what needed to be done, judgment was for the weak.
"I have no idea." I really didn't and at this point didn't care to waste any more time on it.
"Are you sure you don't want to think about it any longer?" I saw her left eyebrow arch ever so slightly as she questioned.
"Yes, I'm sure. I told you, I have no idea." She looked down, nodding to herself, processing the answer through some unknown source, though only for a moment.
"I'm sorry, that is incorrect." Her voice was the same as when she first spoke. "The correct answer is you."
I guess it's my time to face judgment now. | 2017-06-02T20:08:04 | 2017-06-02T20:02:08 | 3,592 | 88 |
[WP] After people die, they must answer a riddle, and its difficulty depends on their sins. You've committed genocide. | I'd finally died. Comfortably in my home, asleep even. I wasn't sure if it had been an assassin, but likely not. Not at 86 years old. Probably that crappy heart I'd gotten from the peasant a few years back. The afterlife was bland, free of color or scents even the air I breathed was missing the indescribable taste of the Earth. If I was breathing anything at all. There was a sphinx seated in the middle of the room, a massive drooping thing. Glasses hung off of a beaded string around its neck and its mane was like snow. It blinked slowly at me, a yawn pulling its enormous tongue in a curling motion.
"The dead are asked and then they answer. Your answer determines where you spend your eternity."
"Guess you answered poorly then, beast. To be stuck in this place." It grinned, enormous fangs glimmering clearly in the faded light.
"The severity of the riddle is based on your sins."
"I have committed no sins. You cannot judge me! I was a ruler, those under me were sacrifices for the greater good!"
"Very well, a simple riddle for a man willing to make the difficult decisions." I smiled, happy that my worth would be appreciated beyond life. A dictator was worth more than any below them, everyone knew that.
"How many deaths have you caused?"
| I had imagined death to be much different. All my life, death to me was a picture of white clouds surrounded by bright blue skies, filled with people dressed in white robes and halo above their heads. Or in my case, perhaps the fiery pits of hell, doomed to eternal damnation. Never in my life had I imagined standing in a queue, waiting to be asked a riddle to determine my fate.
"Thomas Prince, or as you are known on Earth, General President Prince," the robot in front of me beeped.
"Yes," I nodded, studying the towering grey figure. Another thing that I never expected to see in death: Robots. So many questions ran in my head, but before I could ask any, I had to be asked a question first. A question to determine my fate. God must have been a real prankster.
"We believe in second chances, which is why we have this protocol in place," the robot continued. It was the standard line that it gives out to everyone in the line.
"Just get it over and done with, will ya?" I simply cut in. It was not like I was going to get any easy riddles, anyway, like the guy who went before me. What is the answer to 1+1. Unfortunately for him, he overthought the answer and said eleven, when the answer was straight up simple 2. A whole life of being a godly man only to mess up at your final moment.
"Very well then," the lights on the robot blinked. "As you have committed countless murders in your life on earth, we have determined that you'll be assigned Category 10 riddle, perhaps the toughest riddle of them all."
I sighed, preparing for my inevitable descent into hell. At least I would have the honour to be asked the toughest riddle to have ever existed.
The robot beeped. "Why is 42 the answer to life, the universe and everything?"
--------------
/r/dori_tales | 2017-06-03T00:07:34 | 2017-06-02T20:41:18 | 189 | 76 |
[WP] You have the most useless superpower in a world full of awesome superpowers. You are a laughinstock, that is until you start using your power for evil... no one is laughing now. | Growing up, I had always been an outcast. Everybody else in my class had amazing gifts: pyrokinesis, super strength, flight, laser eyes, invisibility, even the kid who could freely manipulate cloth. They were all praised and fawned over because of their gifts. But I was not.
My power is called "Roots." I can grow roots from the soles of my feet and extend them through whatever my foot is touching, at will. Nobody could see any use for it, and for the longest time, neither could I. As the only kid with a useless power, I was bullied, ostracized, and generally left behind. Even the teachers didn't intervene; their contempt for me was obvious.
Adulthood didn't change my circumstances in the least. I could only ever get the lowest paying, most demeaning jobs, simply because my gift was useless.
I finally realized the true potential of my ability only when I well and truly lost my temper. My boss was trying to stiff me on my hours worked, claiming I hadn't shown up to a shift when I had been the only one who had shown up.
"You're not getting paid for hours you didn't work, stop trying to steal from me just because you're useless! Get out of here, you're fired!"
And so I put my foot down, and rooted myself, intending not to move. However, I overdid it on the roots, as the floor began to crack and buckle, its structural integrity having been compromised by my roots. The look of terror on his face as the floor shifted under him brought a bright spark of glee to my heart.
I had always been the one cowering in terror. Never had I even imagined that someone would fear me. High on the sudden feeling of power, I disconnected myself from the roots and walked towards the man who was once my employer, and he backed up until he was up against the wall. Then, I very deliberately stepped on his foot and rooted myself again. I didn't even hear his screams, as a sensation of ecstasy and raw power rolled over me. My eyes rolled back in my head and my muscles all tensed and locked me in place, so great was the feeling as my roots drank.
Some time later, I honestly don't know how long, I came back to my senses. The corpse in front of me was riddled with my roots, the face frozen in a rictus of fear and agony. The floor was buckled in several parts of the room, showing a drop into the basement which was filled with a tangle of my roots.
Over the next few weeks, I experimented with my gift, seeing it in an entirely new light. Every time my roots drank, I gained more control over them and could grow them faster, further and thicker.
Finally, I made my first big appearance in the city, ready to demonstrate that I truly had the superior gift. I went to the city center, and rooted myself, extending my roots in all directions. The ground began to shake and car alarms began to go off. People began looking around in alarm, trying to figure out what was going on. They were the first to be taken by my roots. Overall, more than a thousand people were taken by my roots that day, and more than ten city blocks had subsided into a sinkhole I had created.
That was the day that I earned the moniker "Root of Disaster." | From a utilitarian point of view I was fairly impressive if I may say so myself. Our country, our closed country, under a threat from the entire world, protected only by the great revered leader, was filled with people with rather useful yet banal superpowers. Flight, extreme strength or endurance, usually just one at a time, even just two of them together was a rare occasion. Which brings me to myself, the laughingstock of the class who unfortunately was born with the capability of doing anything, so long as it is included in a Dethklok song. Odd and grotesque, and with the education system only teaching the very basics of the most simple powers, you don't exactly find your place.
I'm not going to tell you how life was a nightmare. It wasn't. I was a bit of a laughing stock, but I wasn't abused or even close to that. If anything it was the rather routine and boring life here that had me suffering. There weren't too many options here if you actually wanted to do something with yourself that wasn't being a factory worker, a cop a solider, or a criminal.
And so I decided to do the unthinkable, and leave for another country. where I am now it's called migration. Back home, however, merely visiting another country is frowned upon and migrating is considered defection unless under orders from the government or the military. Evil doesn't begin to describe what I am considered to be by my own family. Everyone who ever cared about me or I cared about sees me as an inconceivably evil demon, to be killed on sight. But as much as that stings, becoming a part of the outside world was one big truckload of food for thought.
It's not just the plethora of opportunities, or the extremely varied collection of abilities spread everywhere. Those are overwhelming at first, but are fairly trivial matters which you get used to. I very quickly started finding those things much more enjoyable than difficult. What really struck me hard, though, was getting a view on my country from the outside. All the things that I didn't know happened behind the scenes were fairly common knowledge here. I learned the reason for the variability of abilities in the outside world. My country, which I can barely consider as mine, was extremely afraid of people with unique powers, extremely afraid of people stepping out of line, being unique. Those who acted odd, or had odd powers or characteristics were systematically vaporized, unless they were extremely quiet, and damn near invisible, in order to maintain an image of solidarity and unity, in order to maintain the sovereignty of an impotent leader who sees himself above the country.
What I did next was risky. Mostly for my old country. Looking back I'd say I was being arrogant, putting my ideals before my the will, and even well being of my country man. I broadcasted myself to every single screen in the country, with, thunderhorse providing the electrical signal, Delivering a message that couldn't be unheared. All I was doing is giving my points of view, providing some input, backed by cold hard evidence, to my country.
The leader was not as revered now as those of the past were and I was hoping for the people's solidarity and very banal and logical thought process to be able to create a change without instigating too much instability. This, of course, was a huge risk. Who knows what could happen if they even believe me. A violent revolution would be a great opportunity for other countries who want to get some influence to jump in and make things even worse, and that's terrible enough without even considering the costs the revolution itself would have.
None of those possibilities were close to what happened in the end. The leader has made use of his ability as soon as the reform started. I now realized why we truly weren't allowed to migrate. Not so that we don't hear the wrong things, but so we don't stay out of the leaders range for too long and disconnect from his ability: the hivemind.
I've turned from demon to Satan himself in thee eyes of my countrymen I made a huge mistake, which's repercussions only time will tell... | 2017-06-12T09:33:04 | 2017-06-12T07:45:36 | 29 | 12 |
[WP] Write a story that doesn't make sense until the last sentence. | "Bil, bil! Holy fuck! I can't move, Bil!"
"Me too! The hell is going on? How long have we been like this?"
"For years, Bil! The agony! Holy hell, he is peeing on you! Literally peeing!"
"I can feel it! It's like worms under my skin! Kill me, Jim, kill me! I can't take this anymore! This is torture!"
George watched over the meadow and thought: "I suppose when I wished for "I wish I could hear trees talking" I expected something else." | "What do you think?" the artist asked the boy, after an hour or so had passed. The boy's face said it all - he was unimpressed.
"Bah! What is it this time? Is it the nose? I've got the nose all wrong again, haven't I. It seemed so right, at the time."
He began to make alterations, delicately changing little bits here and there. Less length on the nose, more red on the cheeks - they were too pale as was, - eyes open slightly wider. And yet, even after all that, he was left dissatisfied once again. He had tried a dozen times to capture his son's likeness, but it was always imperfect. One day he would do it - he would get it *just right*, and hang it on his wall to forever admire.
"Better than last time, I suppose," the artist muttered as he rose to his feet. "And... beautiful in its way."
The boy didn't respond. He just sat on on the chair staring awkwardly at the floor.
The artist undid the straps and allowed the boy to fall limply to the ground. Once he'd buried this one, he'd find a better starting subject - someone whose nose already looked a little more like his run-away son's.
| 2017-06-15T02:05:04 | 2017-06-15T01:47:41 | 428 | 86 |
[WP] Time slows down for you when you are in danger. The greater the danger, the more time you have to work things out. A terrible car accident once gave you almost a minute to react. Time has nearly stopped for you for subjective months now, and you still don't know why. | I first noticed the strange lag in time when I was ten and my mother was driving my brother and me home from soccer practice. She was frustrated with our baby sister’s wailing over a dropped pacifier, my brother was crabby and refusing to just get it for her. My mother in a rush of frustration let go of the wheel with one hand and twisted, reaching back for the pacifier. Then she stopped.
Everything stopped.
I recalled looking around, seeing the truck that was just a foot away from my door, my mother in her exasperation accelerating through the green light without looking and the truck having not noticed the red. My brother and I both seated to the right, directly in the path of the silver F150. I sat frozen, watching as the man behind the wheel realized in increments what was happening, as my mother’s face turned and her mouth opened in horror, as my brother looked to her and started to turn his head.
Then just like that, time had snapped back and the truck had smashed into us with the ferocity of a tornado. I will never unhear that shriek of the metal. My mother and my sister had survived the impact – mom with a broken arm and pelvis, little sister scratched by the flying glass. my brother had not. I had, of course, although not without harm.
In the years following, as I grew used to my prosthetic leg and got quite adept with it, I had noticed more and more of those long bouts of time hiccups. I had also gotten much better at sussing out the dangers they portended. I seemed to be a magnet for unfortunate events, truth be told.
So when time stopped two months ago, I had thought it would be momentary. Then, as time didn’t return, I began to worry. In fact, I began to panic. Then I began to get *bored*. With the world around me frozen in place I couldn’t light a fire to have a hot meal. A few efforts had ended with sparks hanging in the air. I couldn’t watch television. I couldn’t travel unless I could get there on foot or by bike. The Internet was silent.
Everything was silent.
It was a relief when finally, finally, the asteroid that had been creeping closer and closer to our planet unbeknownst to me impacted. | Diary Entry 1:
Time is such a fickle thing.
Sure, that statement would make the brawl furl for most “Joe average physicists” out there who might tell you “No…time is relative”. I say that is non-sense. Time...is fickle.
Why?
Well, while time seems constant most of the time, just tick-tocking away…each second hand marking another passing moment, all that seems to change any time danger is near. Then, time…as in how I experience all the things around me…and their normal processes…slows down. But somehow, I can move around in that weird time flux like I normally would. So, if a car runs an intersection, and is about to slam into me, everything in that intersection slows down, giving me enough time to speed up or swerve. Then…life returns back to normal.
So, this has only happened directly to me a few times. Helped me avoid a few broken bones as a kid as I attempted a few daredevil stunts. And when it happens to others…for example…let’s say that I am parked at the same stop light that someone decided to run right by…and I am observing that car heading towards a car already in the intersection…then I slow down along with everyone else in the scene…except for the car that is in danger, and I don’t normally sense any time variance at all.
Like I said, time is fickle.
But, I have started this journal today to document what I have been experiencing for what seems like weeks now. Time has slowed down for EVERYONE in the world except for me.
I know it has been a while because the sun hasn’t set in what feels like days and days and days.
I also know it has been a while because I decided to do a scientific test to understand what is going on. Since objects fall 32 feet per second, I decided to push my stapler off my desk to see how long it took to hit the ground. It has seemed like a month now, and it has only made it half way to the ground! I even taped a ruler to my desk…and put sharpie marks every time my second hand on my watch ticks (which happens at what feels like once every 6 hours or so). With this ad hoc measuring…I hope to make some sense of how slow things are going.
But why?
Why…why…why?
Is there a nuclear warhead heading our way? How would I know? The news has halted with the time slow down as well. I can not imagine what it could be!
Well…this is where I will end my journal entry for today. "Today". Huh. Such a funny concept. For what it’s worth, I will call today what it was in the proverbial “morning” of this never ending “day":
Today is Tuesday, November 8, 2016.
| 2017-06-28T10:50:57 | 2017-06-28T10:37:04 | 77 | 16 |
[WP] You wake up by a dusty road with 1,000 Mexican pesos and a note from your Spanish teacher: "Este es el examen final" | I groaned as I sat up on the side of the road, the blazing heat beating down upon my head. I looked around and all I saw was a road sign written in Spanish.
In confusion I searched my pockets and found Mexican currency - 1,000 pesos - and a note with a simple message written on it. "Este es el examen final. Señor Herman."
My eyes went wide in shock. I heard that Mr Herman took his practical exams rather... seriously. I never expected it to be *this* seriously. I just stared at the note angrily before yelling upward at the sky.
'What the *fuck*?! I didn't take Spanish, I was in the *French* class!' | "¿Qué pasó, chico?" dijo una mujer.
"Uhhhhh hola uh... lost... soy Steve, dónde está escuela"
"¿Qué escueña? Estamos en Cozumel. Es estudiante? De dónde es?"
I was so confused. The last thing I could recall was walking into my Spanish class and the fire alarm sounding. Next thing I knew, I woke up parched, with nothing but this note in my pocket and my vocabulary flashcards.
Welp, I'd better make the best of this.
"Oh, policía! Edificio policía! Baño! Teléfono!"
"Pinche puta... sígueme"
The dark-skinned lady began to walk away through the blazing heat; it was beginning to get hard to see her... *pompís*. I had to follow her.
The town was the ugliest thing I'd ever had the displeasure of viewing; snakes, dried feces everywhere, old Mexican men smoking joints on the public toilets. Soon, the lady with the nice rumpus entered a small building. I followed, and to my pleasure, the pert melons of one of my favorite sights were attached to the body of one of my *compadres*. I think her name was Ashby.
"HEY! STEVE! DO YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON?"
Dang it, I always hated this chick.
**Part 2 coming out at some point!** | 2017-06-29T10:02:15 | 2017-06-29T09:12:30 | 1,096 | 30 |
[WP] In a world where pregnancies sometimes last a few extra months resulting in a child with superpowers, your wife has been pregnant for 15 years | "What the fuck."
I was kind of pissed, I had this doctor recommended to me and hired specifically because he wasn't religious. I had gotten tired of people telling me for 15 years about how my child was the second coming of God or Zeus or Hircine or whatever. It got worse when my wife ended up having twins, people began saying my little girl was the antichrist so I was fucking done with religious nutjobs. And here this supposedly "atheistic, science-based" doctor was, telling me my children were gods.
"It's only theory for now, Mr. Walker, but a pretty solid one. When your children were born, they were both Undefined, we had not discovered a mutant strain like theirs ever before. The testing we've been putting them through shows no limits to their powers as of yet. They can fly, read minds, predict things better than the most complex programs. And your daughter has been seen actually creating things."
"How do you know that?" I was almost shouting. "Maybe she's summoning it from somewhere or something!"
"The object we gave her was one of a kind. She now has several, they all look and function exactly the same. Even the wear on them is identical."
Suddenly the supervising nurse ran in. "Doctor, there's been, ah, a development. Please follow, Mr. Walker. I think this puts to rest any doubts we have."
We walked into the room they had my children in. There were a lot of doctors around my children, 'Ooh'ing at something they had.
"Daddy, look!" said my daughter, grinning as her and her brother held up transparent, tennis ball sized objects towards me.
In one of these spheres, there was a tiny little star. In the other, a perfect planet. | Media setup outside the hospital was especially intimidating this morning. This was the longest pregnancy and most anticipated reveal in nearly two decades, afterall.
Who would have thought only a day ago he was the one to reveal such a disappointment to the masses. He even practiced with his wife his two different speeches fitting for different types of power baby could have manifested. Yet, neither will be appropriate for this... this most humiliating oversight that was certainly not expected of a doctor at his level of fame and skill.
Doctor Klaine, Johansen Klaine... will be the face of the mediocrity after all these years being the star- no, no, the Jesus of pregnancies. The hope giver... The revealer...
He went to his secret cabinet carefully hidden in the office desk. "Thank god, at least I remember how to find my booze" thought the sunken old man. Bottomed up one last generously poured glass of bourbon and went on his way to St. Michael's entrance. To his lowest low.
"...Today we gathered here for the reveal of one of the biggest mysteries yet to be revealed to our society. I am, once again, honored to be chosen...."
Linda turned to cameraman Joe as he was tapping on the camera's body in anticipation. "Hey!" she said quietly and it was enough. Joe turned red instantly ashamed by the behavior which is considered outrageous in this line of work.
"Sorry, Linda, it just feels he is dragging and talking on and on..."
Linda nodded and pointed to stage. A short and effective method of telling someone you need to focus there now.
"...and after all the careful examinations, we are humbled by our findings. Our team and most importantly I am extremely sorry to tell you that the pregnancy was never 15 years long."
It was as if synchronized gasps formed a brief and tiny vacuum around Linda. She and Joe looked at eachother, brows raised in disbelief.
"How?!" yelled someone from the crowd following a second of hanging silence.
"As I said, the pregnancy duration was not 15 years. We have reasons to believe that the baby was actually due 11 months and..." cleared his throat "... and seemingly chose to stay in the womb when it realized it was time to be born."
"After intensive testing, I and a large group of specialists came to an agreement that the baby is especially good at hiding. This seems to be its special power."
------------
edit: Forgot to thank you for reading. Cheers.
| 2017-07-08T03:36:32 | 2017-07-08T01:33:45 | 98 | 40 |
[WP]Your method of fighting crime is rather unorthodox. You expose all of the unseen flaws of a villain right in front of their eyes. You are Adam Conover, and this is Adam Ruins Everything.
Edit: Loving these! I think some of them got to the production team, too!
Also I am not Adam, though if you can't get enough of him he did an /r/iAMA yesterday!
Edit: not an ad | "You can't escape, Adam Conover," I said smugly. "You're surrounded by crocodiles."
"Not all crocodiles kill people," said Adam Conover. "In fact, this breed looks particularly docile."
It was about then I noticed, with his hands tied behind his back, that Adam's pectoral muscles looked particularly swollen. I approached him, and, as I did, the faint smell of vegetarian cuisine and hair gel emanated from his person. My sexual appetite now at the height of his hair, I leaned in for a kiss, but was met only with a whisper:
"Sexy fan fiction is written largely by the sexually inexperienced."
(Adam dared me to write this.) | Adam Conover arrives at the scene of the United Nations. Every single member has been electrorcuted in their seat. There's no sign of an energy source. Adam scours the building looking for any clues. He has an intense feeling of being watched, like a deer being stalked in the woods. There's energy in the air. Adam plays along. He begins talking aloud, hoping to bait the killer. "Whoever did this was an amateur." Adam said. "Doom is no amateur, fool!" A voice said. Adam turned around to see Dr. Doom shifting into focus as he turns off his cloaking device.
Before he has a chance to say "Speaking in the third person is ridiculous." Adam is blasted with a bolt of green energy from Doom's gauntlet. Adam screams "At least my show wasn't cancelled!" as he fades away. Doom's loyal minion Kristoff runs toward his master. "What did you do to him, sire?" Kristoff said. "I sent him to the one universe so bizarrely skewed that it will surely drive him mad!" Doom said.
Adam awakens to find himself in a world much like ours but everyone looks like steroid addled muscle heads. A hulking mailman with a dozen pouches strapped to his belt hurries to Adam's side. "Are you okay, pal?" The mailman asked. "No! I-I've been sent to...The Liefeld Universe! Noooooooo!" | 2017-07-27T16:07:37 | 2017-07-27T14:22:59 | 1,673 | 93 |
[WP] Your 14-year-old sister finally wakes up from a coma of 6 years. She panics when she realizes how much she's grown. | 6 years passed, her vitals remained normal for nearly the entire coma. I remember counting the days each time I visited her room (2,267, if you were wondering), every time I saw her motionless body was another punch to the gut. Walking through the hospital door reminded me of the car crash, I was only 17, *how was I supposed to know the guy behind us was drunk?* I still remember the day Emily woke up, it was unusually cold for September. I stood outside of the hospital, stopping to watch the brown leaves blow by as I stroked my bearded chin nervously. Determined to see my sister before I left Richmond, I entered the hospital. Nurses were rushing around as normal, the usual buzz. Checking in at the front desk, I made small talk with the staff. After so many visits I gradually became friends with the employees. Linda was usually at the front desk, if not it was Anna sitting behind the computer. Regardless, I found her room; 029. Reaching for the doorknob, I hesitated. Just another day. Just another step closer until she wakes up- *I hope.* Moving the door open, I tiptoed to her bedside, gently shutting the door behind me. The doctors told us that patients in a coma can still hear everything around them, so I did what I could to cope, I tried making conversations with my unresponsive sister. Scanning the room, I found that nothing had changed. The room was still a jumbled mess of IT's and cabinets, accompanied by technology I couldn't begin to understand. Suddenly I heard a grunt, startling me. I thought the impossible was happening, I thought I saw Emily's eyes open. Shaking my head I looked again, and began to cry. Emily was straining her eyes, confused as she looked at her newfound surroundings.
"W....whe..where am I?"
Sniffling I sat back down in the chair beside her bed.
"Emily. I need you to liste-"
"W-who are you?"
Pausing for a moment it struck me. It really had been six whole years.
"You've been... well, you've been gone a long time, so you're going to see a lot of things you won't understand."
"...I dont get it. What happened? What day is it? Aren't I missing school right now?"
"There was an accident. A car crash, to be specific. You've been in a coma ever since. "
"What? That doesn't make sense, wouldn't I be hurt if I was in a crash? Why does my chest feel heavy?"
As I spoke Emily froze in horror. Every word that came out of my mouth felt like someone ripping a bandaid off the hole in my heart. The hole where Emily used to be. It was time for that hole to heal.
"We're in the year 2018. You've been asleep for 6 years."
Emily stood still, processing everything I had just said. She looked back at me like I was a stranger, tears welling up in her eyes.
"No... how.. no! That can't be possible, where is my brother?"
"He's right here."
| "Miss. Turpin, my name is John Becker, I'm Chief of Operations at Claremont Hospital. I am here to explain everything."
Carla Turpin's family sat by her bedside; her Mum weeping, her Father staring on solemnly, and her sister trying not to laugh.
Carla lay across three beds. Her legs and arms draping over the sides, spilling on the floor like melted rubber.
John Becker continued, "Three years after you entered the coma, the staff here at Claremont, along with the permission of your parents, agreed to undertake a radical approach in regards to regenerating your body and bringing you out of the deep sleep coma."
Carla interrupted, "Why are my limbs all 13ft long?"
"They're actually 15.6ft, honey," said Carla's Dad, who had indeed measured them a while back.
"Please, Mr. Turpin," said Becker. "As I was saying, due to conventional practices yielding zero results in your case, we decided, as a team, to put you through a series of superhero transformation rituals."
"Transformation rituals?" asked Carla.
"We threw your lifeless body down a well filled with bats. We had radioactive spiders bite you repeatedly. We even identified a planet that looked a little like Krypton and tried to crowdfund a return trip for you. We only raised £320 so had to resort to putting you in a bin and throwing you off the top off the hospital roof. The results were disappointing."
"You did what!?" shouted Carla, as her body drooped further off the beds.
"Nurse!" screeched John Becker. "Another bed in for Carla."
Two nurses stormed in to the room, accompanied by a large hospital bed which they stacked next to the three already housing Carla's amorphous body. They lifted and shoved her limbs over the fresh bed before leaving.
"Carla," said Becker. "We had given up hope. You must understand, we could only throw your lifeless body from the hospital rooftop so many times. But then, Carla, this young man came in to the equation."
In stepped Chad Chadley, a dashing young doctor who had evidently been waiting outside for his cue.
"Chad, without consulting anybody, and severely risking your life in the process, injected your body with 300lb of the weird stuff you find inside of Stretch Armstrong figures. He had to use a foot operated bike pump to get it all in, Carla. That's how much Stretch Armstrong he ploughed in to you. A monstrous amount of Stretch Armstrong juice," said Beker. "Probably way too much, if we're being honest."
"He did what?" asked Carla in shock.
"A monstrous amount of Stretch Armstrong stuff. A colossal pile of it. But it worked, Carla. Word has already reverberated around the medical community. We have the power to bring people out of deep comas simply by jousting an unimaginable amount of Stretch Armstrong stuff in to their non-responsive bodies. Unfortunately, as you represent the first case of Stretch Armstrong Coma Rehabilitation, we do admit we may have cunted a little too much of the fluid in to your body. You resemble a Stretch that has been played with too much. But that's a minor detail, Carla, I'm sure you agree." stated Becker.
Carla looked around the room, then at herself. Her limbs continuing to stretch out. "Do I fuck agree! I look like fat spaghetti. How am I going to live like this?!"
"Well," said Becker, "you will live like a Stretch Armstrong - in the attic after people have played with you for a month or two."
****
I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement. | 2017-08-02T06:44:21 | 2017-08-02T06:25:55 | 336 | 51 |
[WP] At 18, everyone receive a superpower. Your childhood friend got a power-absorption, your best friends got time control, and they quickly rise into top 100 most powerful superheroes. You got a mediocre superpower, but somehow got into the top 10. Today they visit you asking how you did it.
Best friend* sorry. | "Hey guys how are you?" I called over my shoulder as my friends walked into the bar. I didn't even bother looking over my shoulder to confirm it was them; I knew the probability of Jeff coming through the door exactly thirty eight seconds after he sent a text stating he was on his way was 98.7%, and those were odds I was comfortable with. The power to manipulate time made making it to appointments a menial task for a guy like Jeff, and the heavy footsteps of Thomas made him easy to identify by sound.
The two of them had called a meeting with me the moment the yearly super rankings came out, as I was expecting. You see, you wouldn't think a power like 'luck' would make someone like me one of the most influential supers in the world, but you would be wrong. Think about it, luck is really the manipulation of probability. If I can control probability, I can control everything. I know it irked them that their childhood friend with the quirky ability was now considered the seventh most powerful man in the world, but we lived in a world where people broke the laws of physics, this really wasn't that strange.
"So, how did you do it" Asked Thomas (ranked 17th) as they sat down across from me in the booth. "Last year you were complaining about being 1,756th, and this year you break top ten"
I gave a sly smile and a wink. "You guys saw I made a few good stops and arrests this year, you don't think that's deserving of top ten?"
"Cut the shit, we both know you're a second rate hero at best," spat Jeff (ranked 11th), clearly getting angry that I had passed him and was being cryptic as to how.
"First, ouch!" I said with a hurt look on my face. "Second, think about it. I can put myself where crimes are likely to happen or in the path of escapes. I can guide resources to where they are needed and influence the likelihood of things going wrong. I just never applied my power seriously until now, but it has farther reaches than simply beating criminals senseless with my fists."
Jeff wasn't having any of it, he had always been the best, always been the top of the class. Ever since his power had developed in grade school he had loomed his superiority over others, and he had never had to deal with someone better than him. He pulled a revolver out of his jacket pocket, something I gave a 63% chance of happening when he walked in the door. I had watched as the probability of it happening had climbed into the 80's, and after my last response it had spiked to 100% right before his hand had left the table. It was simple to see why he had chosen to carry a revolver. They had less moving parts, less chance of failure.
But there was still a chance, and if there was any chance, I could work with it. The hammer cocked back, and then descended. The chamber rotated and the firing pin struck the primer. Unfortunately the cylinder hadn't rotated enough and the bullet smashed into the frame, causing chunks of metal to go flying outwards and into his hand, tearing the flesh from the bone and singing the skin around it.
With a sly smile, I rose to my feet and threw a $5 on the table to cover my meal. "Next time, you guys might just swallow your ego, take a step back, and not take a chance," I said over the sounds of Jeff's cries as I walked out of the restaurant. I knew Jeff couldn't focus enough to use his power while being in that much pain, and soon it would be too late to reverse the damage to his hand.
It was such a stupid thing to ruin a friendship over, a ranking, an arbitrary number designed to show who 'the best' was. It was pretty stupid, after all, if you throw a little good luck out when you know they are making the list, they might just misspell the hero Change, and write Chance instead.
(I hope you guys liked it, this was my first attempt at a writing prompt) | Trudging along in the snow, I reminisced on my time at the academy. It was a short two years filled with laughs and good times and twice as many struggles. I was humbled at the ingenuity of the human race for finally cracking the code on the MMSC gene. Now simply referred to as “The Mold”, it bridged the gap between those born with the gene, and the general populace because it wasn't an advantage exclusive to a few lucky people anymore.
“Can the exam get hurried along a bit, I'm daydreaming here.” I called out into the vast frigidness. Although I knew the examination referee was in earshot, he/she did not answer as protocol demanded.
I stopped at a particularly large redwood for a moment to take a break and leaned up against it.
A chilling howl echoed toward me from my left. I shivered, perhaps from the cold, or perhaps from the sound I had just heard. It mattered little because in my mind I knew that this threat wouldn't only be the path to survival, but it would also be the key to finding out my true superpower.
You see, finding out the true nature of your superpower through gene splicing was not like gaining it naturally. A natural Superhuman had their mutated gene lying dormant in them for years and years and had plenty of time to coax it out. However, an artificial Superhuman like myself didn't have that luxury and so the only sure fire way to discover what it is, is to be exposed to a life and death scenario and force your superpower to surface. Controlled danger, but real danger, that was the goal of the exam.
Surveying the dense canopy proved unnecessary because it wasn't long before my target made itself known. I heard it long before I saw it. Heavy, rasped breathing and uneven footfalls. 50 paces ahead, its figure appeared in the evening light and I observed its approach as I retreated to higher ground. I was afraid but focussed, and I looked upon the ugly creature with disdain. Its snout was wet with a mixture of blood and slobber and its lanky arms nearly grazed the snow as it walked.
20 paces ahead and now the doubt began to set in. What if my power doesn't reveal itself? Surely it will. It has to. These exams were created for this purpose. But what if it doesnt? I may be a mutilated corpse before the referee steps in.
The creature stopped and sniffed, it’s head movements were erratic and it began gnawing its own arm briefly before letting out a blood curdling screech. It leapt forward.
“Its now or never.” I said under my breath.
*crack.*
The creature lunged at me and I shielded my face but when I opened my eyes a massive tree lay atop the creature’s lifeless body in the snow at my feet……..
.......
“Wait…… Thats it? You felled a tree with your mind onto it? This is bullshit. That does NOT deserve a Global Rank 7.”
“Shhhhh! Of course thats not it Gigi, you saw what he did on patrol last month! That was a *Void Entity* we’re talking about not some Green Level proto-demon!” Mark whispered, trying to quiet her down. Some guests turned to us in curiosity but quickly returned to their meals.
“Fine, whatever, but that doesn't even match up with your exam. Just…. Like… Just tell me how you did it. Explain it.” She hissed.
“Guys. That's what I've been saying this whole time, I don't know! I kind of just thought about trees and then that void thing exploded into splinters of wood.” I tried to explain, but their expressions remained unchanged: Gigi fuming, and Mark looking on with wonder.
“And I even *knew* that you were going to be a World Breaker Tier but I didn't think it would be this…. I don't know..… *Stupid!* UHG! It pisses me off even more.” Gigi slammed her hand down on the table. Mark and I just laughed only adding to the annoyance of the other customers.
“Look man, can I like, y’know? I dunno how to ask without making it weird.” Mark gestured. I guess his power was as awkward for him as it was for others.
“Sure go ahead. If you can figure it out better than me then be my guest.” I replied, in too jovial a mood to care.
“Bro, oh my god thanks. This is gonna be *sweeeeeeet!* Cheers man!” He smirked and raised his mug in acknowledgement.
“Cheers. Merry Christmas guys.” I replied as our mugs clinked to Gigi’s reluctance. We downed our eggnog as the waiter came with our entrees. | 2017-12-17T18:26:19 | 2017-12-17T16:14:19 | 1,276 | 31 |
[WP] One evening, a portal to hell opens at the foot of your bed. A demon strides through, rips off your covers, and begins to drag you through the portal by your ankles saying “You’re going to help me settle a bet.” | I screamed like a little girl.
If being dragged through a portal by an honest to god demon - horns, red skin, the whole shabang, doesn't call for screaming like a little girl, I don't know what does.
I'd been sleeping on my friend's couch in New York City. Couch is putting it a bit generously in fact, I had to basically curl into a ball to fit. I mean, then again, I was homeless, so it wasn't like I could judge his choice of furniture.
Regardless, I'd been staring out the window looking at the snow fall, and contemplating the usual questions of my life. "Why me?" "Why this?" "Fuck me?"
You know, the usual.
And then this circle of pure, fiery orange opened up at the foot of my sofa and this tiny little two foot tall demon came out of it. It really says something about my life that I didn't flinch. My first thought immediately went to the coffee my friend had made for me. He'd probably laced it with some hallucinogen or something as a joke.
And then I'd felt the heat emanating from the portal, and the demon's tiny little wrist wrap around my ankle, and I knew it was real.
Hence the screaming and all that.
Despite my best efforts, the midget demon (did I just say the words "midget demon?") dragged me into the portal. I stopped struggling and blinked, trying to understand what was in front of me. The shapes, the fire that wasn't quite fire, the ground that wasn't quite the ground.
"Oh for Kos's sake, put a blindfold on it, its brain will probably explode looking at 13 dimensions after looking at four all its life."
And just like that I couldn't see anything.
I breathed a sigh of relief. And it really said something about the situation, that I could breathe a sigh of relief in literally hell after being kidnapped by demons.
"All right, human, I'll keep it short," a voice said. Presumably the first demon. "You are a failure. You are pathetic even by human standards. You will get nowhere in life, and likely die of substance overdose or suicide within the next five years."
I just nodded. As far as insults go, this demon was an amateur.
"But we can change that," the second demon, the one who'd asked for the blindfold said. "Accept our bargain. We will give you motivation."
"Um," I said. "Motivation?"
"Even the human doesn't buy it," the first demon said in glee.
The second demon ignored the jibe. "I will give you motivation, motivation to succeed, to do something, and let you go back. Then we will see if you can turn your life around in ten years."
"You won't," the first demon said.
"Wait," I said. "Don't I get a say?"
There was silence for a moment and then a roaring sound. I cringed, cursing myself for opening by big fat mouth, before realizing they were laughing, not trying to kill me.
"Oh, that's rich," the first demon said. "Choice! That's too good." It descended into laughter again.
The second demon spoke again. "Well our business is done with, human. See you in ten years."
And just like that I was back in that dingy apartment with the poor excuse of a couch.
I looked around and saw the apartment as if for the first time. The cracked plaster, the fading paint. I hadn't quite realized how shitty it all was. How much I hated this.
The whole thing had probably been some sort of fever dream, my subconscious calling out to me. But I was done with this. I wouldn't live like this.
I pointedly ignored the singed hair around my ankle where the demon had grabbed me.
***
(minor edits)
Due to popular demand, [Part 2: Ten Years Later](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/comments/83ikwn/fiction_10_years_later_demonic_bet_2/)
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| You would have thought you would try to run, or at least scream. The truth is that when a 10 foot bright red demon, literally on fire, climbed out of a black hole in my bedroom floor I did absolutely nothing. It slowly rose to it's full height and I could feel the heat of the fire traveling around it's body, looking more like a liquid as it swam slowly around its torso and arms. I was completely frozen unable to even think or take this in.
"You're going to help me settle a bet" it calmly growled. I wasn't able to raise any immediate objections and next thing you know I am being slowly dragged off my bed and towards the black hole in the middle of my room.
At first it was extreme fear, like I had never felt before. It shocked my body to the core and I wasn't able to think straight as we started hurtling through a darkness. The only light was the burning beast below me falling head first and holding onto my leg. Looking up I couldn't see my bedroom at all now.
Feeling like my consciousness was coming back to me slowly, I started to panic and finally screamed.
We immediately stopped in the air, as if we were floating and the demon came up and put its face about 2-3 inches from mine. One purple, and one pitch black eye examined my face, and it slowly opened its mouth to talk as a ripple of fire danced across its cheeks.
"What...what are you doing?" it asked, genuinly concerned.
"Oh god don't hurt me, I'm sorry for um...whatever I've done, but please take me back" I started rambling, trying to avoid those eyes.
"Hey hey hey" the demon started reassuringly "nothing to worry about, and why would I hurt you! Just please help me out here."
"But your taking me to Hell aren't you, you're a fucking demon man. Torture and damnation and stuff, oh god please let this end, please just take me back". I closed my eyes to try and ignore what was in front of me.
"Whoa - where did that come from! I'm not sure how to take that to be honest - firstly, lets tone down the language, and secondly - torture? Why would you jump to that?."
I opened my eyes slightly and saw genuine confusion and anger on the demons huge face.
"Well um...you're a hell demon, or underworld demon or whatever.' I replied finding the initial fear starting to dissipate surprisingly. "I mean you're on fire and you just came and pulled me from my own house."
"Ok yeah that was kind of strong I guess" the demon said chuckling "sorry about that, but we are in kind of rush though with the Change happening here. I needed to check it had happened properly and the portals were open again - and I know some of us are into all that...torturing and stuff, but that's plain rude to assume we all are! We're on your side down here!"
"Down here?" I asked slowly.
"Yeah Hell - you were right about that" He said shrugging slightly. Panic started raising again, and the demon could see it "but don't worry your with me!" it said quickly "Nothing will happen to you, and we are steering well clear of the others who would do you harm."
"But He is here isn't He...you know...the Devil" I whispered.
"Well that's exactly it" the demon started looking serious now "the Change has finally started happening and we are now fighting for control of all of this. And right now we need your help. We need you Henry."
"You...need me? Why me? What the fu-, what is going on!"
"OK, I guess you really don't know anything" he said looking at me "My name is Thalanor and...long story short...I have finally destroyed Lucifer. This flame you can see on me now is a scar from the long battle we had. There are not many of us, but we have a chance now. A chance to re-write the rules that govern this place. We will have time to talk more, but right now I need to know if you are willing to help. We can't stay here too long" he said gesturing to the empty void around us.
This was big. I didn't really understand it, but I knew it was really big, but the more I looked into his eyes, I could see kindness beyond the flaming scarred face. I took a deep breath.
"OK, lets do this" I said.
A huge grin came across Thalanor's face and he nodded putting out his hand. I took one more look up to where I guessed my room was, and then stretched out and took his huge hand. We turned slowly in the air and then started hurtling further into the darkness.
Part 2 below.
| 2018-03-10T09:23:05 | 2018-03-10T09:10:01 | 3,138 | 425 |
[WP] In this world, soulmates cannot hurt each other in any way or form, intentionally or unintentionally. You are an assassin hired to eliminate a powerful figure. As you close in for the kill, your bullets miss their mark and knives bounce of their skin. Things just got awkward. | Juliet lay silent, forcing herself to control her breathing. Gently. Slowly. She had to calm down.
It wasn't meant to have happened like this. Whether the King annexed Tushesh or not, it wasn't her decision. It had just been her idea. A good idea too, as it would provide much needed access to the East-Sea, and open the trade routes with the bearded men of Asnar. And much more, besides.
> Juliet felt something against her back. It was like someone had shoved her hard, and she almost fell as she stumbled forward.
There were, as expected, many opponents to the idea. The Tushesh fundamentalists, of course. They believed their tiny kingdom had the right to autonomous self-sovereignty. That was incorrect. No one had a given right to anything. *Steel*. The blades and the people who wielded them, that was what gave kingdoms their right.
> She turned. Behind her was only the distant tree-line of the Elder Forest. No person, that she could see.
> A glimmer near her feet caught her eye. She looked down to see an object shining orange, reflecting the evening sun.
> The arrow lay flat on the grass, harmlessly. Innocently.
There were others that opposed it, too. People from within their own kingdom, who didn't believe that it was right to take land from other countries just for personal gain. Those too, who thought that holding onto the country would be an impossibility if the people of Tushesh did not want it. There would forever be resistance. Infighting. Violence. And how much money would it take to quell them?
These people, she knew, had a point.
> The man stepped out of the trees, his hands by his side. He had dark skin and blue eyes and Juliet was certain he was foreign. There was a bow strapped over his back.
> "Who are you?" Juliet shouted. "Did you... Why didn't it hurt me?"
> "I can't hurt you," replied the man. He stared into her eyes as he approached. He looked sad. Pained, in fact. More pained than anyone she had ever seen.
> Juliet swallowed. "You mean..." She'd heard stories but... it couldn't be real.
Yes, the people would resist. So Juliet suggested razing the cites of Tushesh completely. And its people. There would be no resistance, that way. Just new hills, here and there, where secrets would lie beneath. Never whispering. Never telling, of what they hid.
The legislation she carried only needed a signature.
> Juliet struggled against her bindings as the man dug silently into the ground with broken branches and stones.
> The forest floor was hard from the winter, but his progress was steady. The earth slowly opened its mouth, ready to swallow her.
>"Please," she wanted to say. "Please." But her cries were muffled.
It was so dark. And her chest was so heavy.
She could hear the paper in her pocket rustling with each laboured breath, as if it too struggled for air.
How long has she been here for now? An hour? A day?
Surely he'd come back for her. They were soulmates, after all.
What could be more important than fate?
| The blade of the dagger was vibrating in the wall behind her head. Her almond eyes stared at me for a moment before she turned her head, looking over her shoulder at the errant weapon. Paula's honey-colored hair was pulled up into a French braid. I noticed the flesh of her shoulder showing under the strap holding up her teal-colored top. The jeans tucked into her boots were faded, the right knee ripped. I frowned for a moment, trying to decide if she had bought them that way or not.
Suddenly, I realized her brown eyes were fixed on me again, and there was a shadow of a smirk on her face. Paula folds her arms across her chest. "Well, won't this be a cute story to tell people some day?" she said. There was little of the commanding quality to her voice I'm used to from the TV, but plenty of confidence.
I blinked at her.
"I mean...we can test it a bit further, if you want, but we both know what we saw."
It took a moment for these words to really hit home. Dumbly, I looked back at the handle that had been in my hand a minute ago. "Shit," I whispered - to myself, more than anyone. Heart pounding, I looked back at her.
"Not for nothing, but that's not really the best word to be using in this situation..."
I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing. The fuck-ups were crashing into each other like cars in a high-speed accident. Not only had I blown a job for the first time in my life, it was not a problem I'd be able to fix. In addition, I'd been staring at the frickin' *senator* of my state for a while and all I had been able to get out so far was a swear word. "Sorry..." I mumbled. "I...should have said 'shoot.'"
Her laugh was genuine, boisterous. "Yeah, because *that's* what I was objecting to - your *fucking* language." The emphasis she put on *fucking* does something weird to my insides. "So. You've got a voice...is there a face to go with it?" Her eyebrows arched upward.
"Right. Uh, forgot about...that. 'S part of the job, concealed identity, and all, but I guess...I...um..."
I turned, my arm shaking as it extended...but instead of grabbing the edge of my black balaclava, I reached for my belt, grabbing the cold metal ball hanging there.
"I just need some time to...think about this. I just didn't know, um, I mean...I always imagined I was...uh..."
In a practiced motion, I unpinned the smoke grenade and threw it onto the floor. It was about ten feet to the back door, which was totally manageable - or would have been if I hadn't tripped on the throw rug under her coffee table.
* * *
When I came to, she was standing over me. The teasing demeanor is gone: her expression is one of somber sincerity. "Hey there."
I took stock of the situation. I was on the couch, not far from where I tripped. The ceiling fan was turning lazily overhead. “Burnished bronze,” I muttered.
She tilted her head back to gaze at the ceiling, then nodded briskly. “You have nice fixtures.”
She gave me a soft smile and my stomach acted up again. “You know, no one’s ever called them that before, but yes, my ‘fixtures’ are *very* nice...”
I tried to turn my grimace into something a little more appealing. My mind was brimming with potential responses. *Your fan’s nice, too* or *Plus you’ve got great assets* or *I think I’m gonna like it here*...
Instead, I said this: “What am I gonna tell my boyfriend?”
* * *
/r/ShadowsofClouds | 2018-04-24T00:03:12 | 2018-04-23T23:50:21 | 457 | 121 |
[WP] In this world, soulmates cannot hurt each other in any way or form, intentionally or unintentionally. You are an assassin hired to eliminate a powerful figure. As you close in for the kill, your bullets miss their mark and knives bounce of their skin. Things just got awkward. | Natalia lazed back in her chair, with the smirk of a smug bitch who'd just avoided being killed. Katherine looked down at her buckled blade - the curved dagger she had used so many times to take so many lives before this one.
"It's okay." Natalia began, getting Katherine's attention. "Everyone gets performance issues."
Katherine had always been the cold, calculated professional - but even she struggled to hide the smile that cracked on her lips. The ice was well and truly broken.
"So, you might as well take a seat. But honestly, I thought you'd be taller." Natalia then added, resting one arm on her office desk, while the other hand toyed with her bright red hair. It was obviously dyed, but Katherine had to admit that it really did suit her target.
At first the veteran assassin was hesitant to take a seat. She'd been lured in by the playful humour, and even further still by the warmth of Natalia's smile. What if this was a plot to distract her, and end her... No, wait. They could not kill each other. Katherine rolled a nearby chair over with on hand, and sat down on it with one leg crossed over the other.
"This is a surprising twist. Who sent you though?" Natalia remarked, although before Katherine could say anything, she began reeling off a list of names. "Craig Hudson? Charlotte Gregorovitz? Kevin the janitor?"
Katherine shook her head at each of these names, and snickered quietly to herself at the last one.
"I cannot reveal the name of my client, although, since I can't actually complete the contract..."
Had Katherine let her guard down so much that she was willing to break the code she'd lived by for over two decades? Conflict began within her mind. On one hand the client was a disrespectful ass, and Natalia was her soul-mate. On the other she might never get another client again. What was she going to do? Retire and open a sandwich shop in the Highlands of Scotland? Not a bad plan...
"Your brother." Katherine replied, breaking her brief silence to reveal the name. She'd expected Natalia's face to crumble with betrayal and grief, but she simply offered another of her playful grins.
"Ever the jealous type..." The redhead muttered, as she stood up, took a large brown envelope from her top-right desk drawer, and tossed it down on the table in front of Katherine.
"What's...?" Katherine began, but was quickly interrupted by her ex-target.
"Your next job. Money enough to cover the unfortunate failed mission this evening, and an additional sum for you to take out my greedy, egotistical younger sibling. Oh, and a small bit more for you to use to buy me dinner."
Her confidence radiated off her like an infectious disease, pulling Katherine in even closer, and even tugging a little at her heart-strings.
"Y-you want me t-to...?" Katherine stuttered, as she watched the tall, curvy redhead stand up and pick up her jacket from the back of her chair.
"Yes. Kill my brother. Buy me dinner. Et cetera, et cetera. Are you coming?" Natalia walked around the desk, and offered a hand to Katherine, which the assassin took. She rose to her feet, and admired the height difference briefly - being at least half-a-foot shorter than Natalia.
"I don't actually mind the height difference. In fact, I think you're rather cu--" Natalia's failed to finish her sentence as a bullet smashed the glass behind them. Katherine had pushed her to the floor for protection, and was holding her un-holstered pistol scanning the room, and the dimly-lit outdoor area behind the office.
Another shot was fired, this time at a warning which hit the ground two inches in front of Katherine.
"Kat, I suggest you drop your firearm. We have the building surrounded." A male voice said to her, over her earpiece.
"Surprised that you're not the only one he hired?" The voice then taunted, knowing he had the female assassin on the back-foot.
"You've got ten seconds to hand over the target..."
Katherine looked over her shoulder, moving backwards to act as a human-shield for her soul-mate.
"Ten!"
"Nine!"
"Eight!"
"Do you you think we can postpone that date?" Katherine asked, and Natalia replied with a nod.
"Seven!"
"Six!"
"Five!"
"I'll take your contract, by the way!" Katherine added, before clicking the safety on her pistol off.
"Four!"
"Yeah, if we get out of this..." Natalia replied, not sounding at all hopeful now. Her brother really was trying to get rid of her, probably for her continuous blocking of his business ambitions.
"-If-?" Katherine retorted. "Think -when-."
"Three!"
"Two!"
"O---"
Katherine had laid eyes on her target at 'seven', and with a single squeeze of her trigger she had taken out one of the other assassins.
"Go, I'll be right behind you!" Katherine shouted, as the every pane of glass in the office shattered, and several more of her kin burst into the room - each and every one receiving a well placed bullet for their troubles.
Well, if she couldn't kill her target, she sure as hell wasn't going to let anyone else have the satisfaction! Katherine knew there would be more. Five were dead so far, but her trained instincts told her that they were not safe yet.
| Sometimes the best disguise was no disguise at all.
That was what Elayne thought as she weaved through the crowd like a serpent through water. She wore no mask or hood to conceal her face. There was no need. She would not be seen. Her mark, a young man named Genta Nakamura stepped into view. Following closely behind him, were two men who wore matching black shades and business suits.
*His bodyguards*, Elayne thought.
Her hand fell to her side, fingers brushing the handle of a knife through the fabric of her skirt as she drew closer. Elayne's eyes honed in on the three men despite the moving traffic of pedestrians and saw her mark break off from the crowd and into an alleyway.
She followed, turning the corner into a dark alleyway.
"You again," Genta's voice echoed in the narrow alleyway before stepping out of the shadows and glaring at Elayne. "What's your name?! How much are being paid to take me out huh?!"
"What? I don't know what you're talking about," Elayne said as she blinked innocently with her round emerald eyes.
"Your playing dumb? I've seen you at least a dozen times girl. At least have the decency to admit you're trying to kill me, geez."
Genta snapped his fingers. Two men stepped into alleway cutting off Elayne's only escape route.
"You're surrounded. Don't make this difficult and just surrender. I don't want to kill you kid."
Elayne didn't move, nor did she speak. She only waited patiently as her fingers brushed steel.
The bodyguards stepped forward ready to restrain Elayne, but at the moment they lunged forward, their hands grasped only air.
Elayne had slid underneath the guards, slashing at the ankles of the men with two steel daggers held in reverse-grip in each hand.
Genta's bodyguards crumpled into a heap as they cried in agony. Maimed and immobilized, Elayne proceeded to leap over the men, her skirt flying up and briefly flashing Genta with her arsenal of knives and-
"Pink Hello Kitty panties? Are you serious?" Genta asked, incredulous.
Embarrassed, Elayne slipped and fell onto her skinny behind. As she landed, Elayne had spread her legs in an awkward attempt to break her fall and in doing so she had proceeded to further expose her Hello Kitty panties to Genta.
Genta who was a high school dropout turned Yakuza, had never even dated a girl before and suddenly found himself pleasantly excited as he stared at Elayne's childish panties. Excited might have been a strong word. He was more confused by the awkward change of hormones in his head - going from fight or flight adrenaline to pleasurable excitement.
"A-are you done starring?" Elayne stammered as she felt the constant heat on her cheeks refuse to abate.
"Oh. My bad, sorry," Genta began apologizing remorsefully as he tore his intense gaze away from the Hello Kitty panties. "I-I didn't mean to look. But you were about to kill me and then-" Genta eyes were distant as he began reminiscing of how it all went down. The sight of the knives strapped to her pale thighs and then the Hello Kitty panties.
Genta broke into a fit of laughter.
"S-stop laughing! I'll kill you, you pervert!" Elayne shouted as she stood up quickly and pointed a double edged dagger at Genta.
Genta paused, "Don't worry I won't tell anyone and besides it was cute."
"You won't be, because I'm going to kill - wait. What? It was cute?" Elayne looked up at Genta inquisitively.
"Yeah, your panties."
"Oh," Elayne deflated visibly. Even though she wasn't conscious of it, she had secretly hoped that Ganta would say *she* was cute and not her underwear.
"What's your name?" Genta asked.
"Elayne," she replied but then frowned. *Why did I...* It was pointless, telling a man she was going to kill her name.
"Elayne. So that's your name," Genta smiled. "I wish you'd tell me earlier."
Elayne smiled back. "And I wish you'd die already Genta. Every time I make an attempt at your life something gets in the way. My sniper rifle jamming, heavy winds turning my bullets astray, and then multiple knife attempts failing because - for some strange reason my hand refuses to stab you," Elayne sighs, letting out a breath of frustration.
Genta sighed back in kind. "It seems everyone wants to kill me these days..."
Elayne looked at Genta, and for the first time she noticed the countless scars and fresh wounds covered up with bandages.
"How much are you getting paid?" asked Genta.
When Elayne didn't respond, Genta ventured to guess. "Ten grand? A hundred grand? A million?"
Elayne scoffed, "Hmph, your not worth that much."
*So it was over a hundred grand at least,* thought Ganta. He didn't have enough to double the pay, even if it was ten grand.
"Alright. Have a go. Your best shot. If you can't kill me, how about you become my bodyguard and I'll pay you more than anyone can ever offer for my life?"
"Fine."
Elayne watched as Ganta unbuttoned his white shirt, exposing his lightly tanned chest and stomach to Elayne.
For a moment Elayne looked away. Then she steeled her nerves, grit her teeth and stepped closer to Ganta. Close enough that she could feel his breath on her forehead. She took her dagger and held it in both hands before stabbing Genta through his ribs, aiming for his heart.
Genta grunted, flexing his muscles as he felt the cold steel nick his skin, but it didn't draw blood.
"Fuck you," Elayne whispered softly as she dropped the knife.
"Maybe next time," Genta said as he grinned. "But you're mine now."
----
----
/r/em_pathy
| 2018-04-24T02:30:14 | 2018-04-24T01:31:32 | 171 | 39 |
[WP] In this world, soulmates cannot hurt each other in any way or form, intentionally or unintentionally. You are an assassin hired to eliminate a powerful figure. As you close in for the kill, your bullets miss their mark and knives bounce of their skin. Things just got awkward. | “Wait,” Bob thought, “am I gay?” Looking back down the scope, the shirt clearly had a hole burned in it, directly above the aorta - the shot had been good, but had just bounced off. The target was alive so Mr. Bloome was going to be pissed. Shit, he’d found his soulmate – his wife was going to be pissed. The man in his crosshairs looked pissed too, but then again he had just been shot, so Bob felt that was probably fair. Even so, Bob felt happy as he put down the rifle, dusted the dirt off his khakis, and with trepidation, trundled out of the bush, ready to go and meet his true love. As he approached, he noted that his love was seriously ripped, and with the steeliest blue eyes. Maybe he could make this work.
“Hi,” Bob opened with, “I’m Bob”. There was an awkward silence as the man just stared at the red-faced assassin. “Umm, I’m the one who shot you.” Bob ventured after a pause, worrying that the moment was getting away from them.
“I saw” Said the target, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly,
“… Sorry I suppose, Mr. Kent” said Bob. The man just sighed,
“You can call me Clarke. And don’t worry, it happens all the time”
| "No, seriously, you *aren't* my type."
"Look, I agree with you, okay? You're definitely not what I, uhh, what I was expecting. But those are the rules, right? We're kinda stuck together now, aren't we?"
"No. No we're not. Let me tell you about the *rules* okay. The rules are so vague that it could be anything. 'Can't hurt them in any way or form'? It could be your employer is my soul mate. Or your weapons dealer. Or the guy who you're going to buy a tacky new jacket from with the money from this job, whose product can't be the motivation that leads to an assassin taking a job that successfully kills me. Or maybe any one of those people is *your* soul mate, and killing me would ruin your life, and they can't let you do that. Or maybe your soul mate--or any of theirs--is any one of the countless people whose lives would be made worse--significantly or marginally--by my death. I mean, fuck, even just the increase in crime statistics by a fraction of a percent lowering property values in this city by pennies is harm, and if your soul mate lives here that would harm them."
"I'm starting to see why someone wanted you dead."
"Yeah? Why's that?"
"Because you take all the romance out of the world."
"Well, my soul mate will appreciate it, because if she were bothered by it, I wouldn't be able to feel this way."
"Heeeey... Maybe that's it!"
"What?"
"Your big stupid mouth is what made someone want to kill you, right? But losing their potential soulmate would be some form of harm to *your* soul mate. So no matter what, you can never say anything bad enough to get yourself killed for it. Nobody can!"
"Ugh... Reality is giving me a headache again." | 2018-04-24T04:13:28 | 2018-04-24T00:04:50 | 56 | 18 |
[WP] Necromancy is just the arcane equivalent of computer programming, and grimoires on necromancy are just like libraries of code on animating the undead. You work the equivalent of the IT Help Desk for your necromancer cult. These are your work stories. | "Nec Support, Roy speaking" \<pause\>
"Have you tried killing it and re\-animating it again? " \<click\>
"Were you certain it was dead before animating? Yes, rip the heart out. Wait for 10 minutes and then retry the ritual. " \<click\>
"Yes, the animated corpse will continue to rot. That's a feature, not a bug. " \<click\>
"Wait, what did you animate?" \<pause\> \<exaggerated eye roll\>
"The control spell doesn't cover dragons."
\<slams head on table\>
"You can't solve that problem, you will need to hire professional adventurers to come in and take care of it. "
\<exasperated sigh\>
"Yes, I know that adventurers that handle undead dragons are extremely expensive, that's why it's in the manual that the control spell doesn't cover dragons."
"No, we don't offer discounts on adventurers." | People are idiots. Simple as that. After third time you accept the message to a screaming newbie rambling in about zombie apocalypse, when they have some simple error, it gets old fast.
But the craziest things happen with the experienced ones. The ones who think they know better. There are standard procedures introduced in all but the oldest, most eccentric, or advanced teaching manuals there are.
When some eighth-year schmuck called in the other day, I groaned. The kid had been an absolute prick since year one, calling in with idiotic advice, or stupid problems at least once every 6 months.
So this time, I just waited. And he was unusually silent this time, so I knew that it was bad.
It was not the worst, but it was pretty bad. He had made a form of growth built in to the system, where they absorb biomass and integrate it, as best they can, into their preexisting algorithms. But embedded protocols in the biomass of other necromancy corrupted the magic and created an amalgam of mixed and corrupted spells.
Formulaically speaking, this was an extremely difficult problem. You would have to detangle the individual matrix created by the absorption pattern of each subject, separate, then spend a considerable amount of time modifying and fixing the magic in the individual, while having the physical form restrained, restructured, and reset.
As a a necromancer, doing all of this magically is a problem. However, that's why they have Us. We have studied, and trained, in the programming of the arcane, despite not being able to do it ourselves. We come in, and clean up their messes. They have them enough that there is an entire guild devoted to us.
Just another day as an adventurer. | 2018-04-27T22:15:55 | 2018-04-27T21:14:51 | 3,066 | 34 |
[WP] Necromancy is just the arcane equivalent of computer programming, and grimoires on necromancy are just like libraries of code on animating the undead. You work the equivalent of the IT Help Desk for your necromancer cult. These are your work stories. | A real call I got once:
Me: "Necro Support, how can I help you?"
Them: "I'm not able to reanimate a corpse!"
Me: "Okay what line in the spellbook did you try exactly?"
Them: "SIR, I am NOT a necromancer person so I don't know."
Me: "Do you know which spellbook you're using?"
Them: "I don't know what that is!"
Me: "Okay, when you look at the spellbook, do you see a blue N, or a multic..."
Them: "SIR, I ALREADY TOLD YOU THAT I AM NOT A NECROMANCER PERSON, YOU'RE REFUSING TO HELP ME SO I'M GOING TO HANG UP" | "You... you have who?" I ask, hoping that what I heard was incorrect.
"Marilyn Monroe, I'm gonna use her for\-"
"Sir I apologize but we don't support grave robbing\-"
"But\-"
"Of famous people" I interject quickly. Confusion seems to be radiating off my phone and I wish I could just hang up now.
"Well I mean I already have it..." I let out a sigh.
"Sir, she's been Embalmed and dead for fifty years. There probably isn't much left of the poor woman!"
"Yeah there really isn't, bones are all barely connected at this point."
"Wait, you are aware the spell won't repair any damage, right?"
"Oh I know, I really don't think\-" I hit disconnect and rip off my head set and let out a sigh. My phone begins to ring again as I push away from my desk. My supervisor raises an eyebrow at me ignoring the phone.
"Necromancer," I stare at the information on my computer again, "Mark has committed a class 14 breach of contract." My supervisor rolls his eyes as he walks past me.
"That makes 3 today so far, slow start." he says as he takes a sip of his coffee. Pain throbbed through my head as it connected with the desk. The most annoying part was he was right, it was a slow day. | 2018-04-28T00:14:14 | 2018-04-27T23:38:04 | 237 | 102 |
[WP] Necromancy is just the arcane equivalent of computer programming, and grimoires on necromancy are just like libraries of code on animating the undead. You work the equivalent of the IT Help Desk for your necromancer cult. These are your work stories. | **"Hello, this is Jeff from the Overwatch team, how can I help?"**
"Uh. Hello. Name's Jerry. So, I tried that basic human reanimation routine from *Basic Nercomundics, second edition* and it does not seem to do anything."
**"Hm. Keep in mind that we don't really support second edition anymore, it is at least 40 years out of date, but that routine should be the same. Do you get any effects after completing the incantation?"**
"Oh yeah, I get those pretty purple swirls in the air, and Betty yell at me."
**"Betty?"**
"Yep. My wife. I think she mentioned that it itches like a bitch when I do that."
**"Sir, with all due respect, you can't use animating magic on living humans."**
"Oh."
**Have a nice day. ^Dan, ^we ^got ^another ^idiot ^trying ^to ^animate ^body ^of ^his ^living ^wife!**
| People are idiots. Simple as that. After third time you accept the message to a screaming newbie rambling in about zombie apocalypse, when they have some simple error, it gets old fast.
But the craziest things happen with the experienced ones. The ones who think they know better. There are standard procedures introduced in all but the oldest, most eccentric, or advanced teaching manuals there are.
When some eighth-year schmuck called in the other day, I groaned. The kid had been an absolute prick since year one, calling in with idiotic advice, or stupid problems at least once every 6 months.
So this time, I just waited. And he was unusually silent this time, so I knew that it was bad.
It was not the worst, but it was pretty bad. He had made a form of growth built in to the system, where they absorb biomass and integrate it, as best they can, into their preexisting algorithms. But embedded protocols in the biomass of other necromancy corrupted the magic and created an amalgam of mixed and corrupted spells.
Formulaically speaking, this was an extremely difficult problem. You would have to detangle the individual matrix created by the absorption pattern of each subject, separate, then spend a considerable amount of time modifying and fixing the magic in the individual, while having the physical form restrained, restructured, and reset.
As a a necromancer, doing all of this magically is a problem. However, that's why they have Us. We have studied, and trained, in the programming of the arcane, despite not being able to do it ourselves. We come in, and clean up their messes. They have them enough that there is an entire guild devoted to us.
Just another day as an adventurer. | 2018-04-28T00:02:49 | 2018-04-27T21:14:51 | 111 | 34 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | "Your army is marching upon grenoble. You face a royalist regiment of two thousand men blocking your path. What do you do?"
"I bear open my breast...", Napoleon started
"Jesus Christ, dude", the DM said
"...and proclaim, 'If any man here wishes to shoot his emperor, I am here'".
The DM sighed and rolled some dice behind his screen.
"Roll for persuasion", he said
Napoleon picked up his dice and rolled, "20." He said stonefacedly.
"Ooookay... the royalist regiment joins your forces I guess" | OK James, roll the dice
2
GM: Sorry, you missed.
The entire party is in shock. They tried with two other characters already. Both dead.
GM: The new enemies arrive. Rolls , 20. John, you died. Rolls again, almost James, you barely escapes this time.
The party starts arguing: You can't let this end like this GM! We were almost defeating the dictator, you can't do the same as the last campaign, where everyone died! We already lost so many characters on this one.
GM thinks... OK OK, I will give you another chance.
GM: The mercenary you worked with before arrives ,with buying some extra time for you. Some dice rolls, it kills two of them. But the big boss is still there. James, its your turn.
James - Ok, I will try one more shot.
20
GM: You heard the voice of your deceased master "Use the force, Luke". You disable the visual indicator and just senses the universe. A perfect shot in the core reactor, starting the sequence of explosions destroying the Death Star.
I hope the liberty I took with "Historical event" its OK.
Also, sorry for my English. It is not my first language. | 2018-05-29T09:37:40 | 2018-05-29T09:16:08 | 303 | 17 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | DM: "Alright Jesus, you've just been executed by the Romans, Roll a death save."
Jesus: \*rolls\* "Natural 20."
DM: "Alright you wake up with 1 hp, what do you do?"
Jesus: "Alright I'm gonna play possum"
DM: "Roll a deception check"
Jesus: \*rolls\* Ok that's another 20, plus my charisma modifier which is \+5 so 25 total."
DM: "Ok you avoid detection and are placed in an unmarked cave."
Jesus: "All right how long can I go without food or water?"
DM: "About Three days."
Jesus: "Alright I emerge from the cave three days later." | Major Meridith: we attack the Emus.
Dm: Alright, that will be your Lewis guns, thats going to be your Dex Mods, Plus your proficiency modifiers. Roll to hit.
Major Meridith: ... 1, plus my mods thats a total of 7.
Dm: the emus dodge your gun fire, they taunt you. They run south beyond your sight.
Major Meridith: we chase after them.
Dm: Alright, lets say you roll for nature to see if you can predict where the birds are going next.
Major Meridith: I uh... rolled a 16.
Dm: Yes thats enough. You track the birds down near Campion. You spot hundreds of them.
Major Meridith: we set up our guns and stsrt firing at them.
Dm: can you make a dex throw for that?
Major Meridith: god damnit, another 1. Plus my modifiers its a 4 total.
Dm: your guns jam only after firing a couple of rounds. And now you're a disgrace to your country.
Major Meridith: but at least none of my men suffered casualties!
Dm: you just wasted 3000 gp worth of ammunition, the quest reward for this wasn't even that high!
Major Meridith: Damn Emu's ill get them yet.
Dm: that'll wrap up this session. Well resume next time. There are OTHER adventure hooks you know.
| 2018-05-29T09:31:25 | 2018-05-29T09:12:26 | 210 | 51 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | Mary looked at the table horrified. Another 1. That’s, what, 6 of them now? She felt desperate, it was all slipping away.
“You sure I can’t add my modifier?” she pleaded.
“We’ve been over this Mary, critical failures are critical failures,” replied Jim looking at her with pity.
“All my planning... all that time...” groaned Mary quietly.
Jim wanted to move this on. There was still some hope for her, but it was slipping away. “OK, Todd, you’re up.”
Todd looked up from his laptop. Was he even paying attention? He was only invited because he was Jim’s little brother and his mom forced them. Mary was sure Todd didn’t even know the rules.
Todd held up the D12... again.
“It’s not that one, it’s the D20... STILL,” said Mary with annoyance.
Todd picked up his D20, and rolled it. Right off the table. Again.
Sighing, Mary picked it up and handed it to him. “Can we just get this over with?”
Finally, he rolled the dice. A 17. Another 17. Why did he have to have that grin!
“Did I win?” asked Todd?
“Not yet,” replied Jim, “but you’re getting close. That’s 14...”
“17” interrupted Todd.
“Right, but you have a minus 3 charisma modifier. So 14. It’s still good enough, though. Trump wins Pennsylvania.” | "Okay, with the guards on the wrong car, he's got a few less people protecting him!"
"Rad. He's approaching the Mostar café. Čabrinović, you were next in initiative because Mehmedbašić fell asleep and Ilić had to go home for work tomorrow, so your turn."
"I activate and throw my bomb."
"That's. a... mis- oh for fucks sakes."
"What?"
"Your Stupid Lucky feat. In the event of a miss, the attack has a chance of happening to another enemy adjacent. I should have placed the cars a bit apart from each other. Fuck. Okay, the bomb rolls under the car, and blows up the car BEHIND your target. Franz is spooked, bloodied, but has radioed guards to get you."
"Can I swallow my cyanide pill? Also use my move action to jump into the river"
"You can try. Roll a d20. I'm not sure what check it'll be so let's say DC 10"
"9"
"You fail to be poisoned... Actually, that was a decent roll, and as I hadn't planned for it... And no, Stupid Lucky doesn't apply if you're attacking yourself... You take the cyanide capsule. You're not dying, but you feel queasy. The river water isn't helping. It's the Archduke's turn now, so he reaches the nearby mayor, and complains loudly before his wife tells him to chillax. Let's roll his next route and... Oh for fucks sakes, Lojka doesn't know about the change in plans."
"Can I just shoot him on his way back?"
"sure, princip."
"Crit."
"Fuck. Roll to confirm crit."
"There."
"Fuck. Okay, so you hit him (and his wife) in the jugular veins. The Archduke Franz Ferdinand remains upright, the Count asks him if he's alright, to which the Archduke replies "Sophie, Sophie! Don't die! Live for our children!" followed by six or seven utterances of "It is nothing.'. Congratulations, gentlemen. You have just started the First World War."
| 2018-05-29T09:09:55 | 2018-05-29T07:22:47 | 150 | 30 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | "A runner arrives with your orders. Would you like to read them out?"
"Sure." Katie unfolded the paper that Danny, the DM, just passed her. "It says that the Ruskis are carrying the guns away, and want us to stop them."
"So we charge those guns? That sounds ... dangerous."
"There's, like five-hundred guns. What are the rules on volley firing like that?"
"I'll look them up."
"It's got to work. Danny wouldn't TPK us, would he?"
"I will if you keep metagaming."
"Fair. Okay... well, we charge the guns, cut them down as they retreat, and take them. Yeah?"
"Katie, are you sure this is a good idea? I've only just rolled this character up. Couldn't we refuse?"
"Orders are orders. It's not for us to reason why."
"No, just for us to do or die."
"HEY! That rhymes!"
"Well done, Alf. Write a poem about our heroics later."
"Who brings a bard to a battle anyway?"
"We do: sound the trumpet to face East."
"Wait," interjected the Danny, "East?"
"Yeah, that's where the guns are right? So East."
"Guys..."
"On my mark, we charge."
"Are you sure about this guys?"
"Get 'em."
There was a horrible terrible silence.
And then Danny said, "can you pass me the rules on volley firing?"
"Sure."
"Oh ... it does not look good for you guys." | "Okay, with the guards on the wrong car, he's got a few less people protecting him!"
"Rad. He's approaching the Mostar café. Čabrinović, you were next in initiative because Mehmedbašić fell asleep and Ilić had to go home for work tomorrow, so your turn."
"I activate and throw my bomb."
"That's. a... mis- oh for fucks sakes."
"What?"
"Your Stupid Lucky feat. In the event of a miss, the attack has a chance of happening to another enemy adjacent. I should have placed the cars a bit apart from each other. Fuck. Okay, the bomb rolls under the car, and blows up the car BEHIND your target. Franz is spooked, bloodied, but has radioed guards to get you."
"Can I swallow my cyanide pill? Also use my move action to jump into the river"
"You can try. Roll a d20. I'm not sure what check it'll be so let's say DC 10"
"9"
"You fail to be poisoned... Actually, that was a decent roll, and as I hadn't planned for it... And no, Stupid Lucky doesn't apply if you're attacking yourself... You take the cyanide capsule. You're not dying, but you feel queasy. The river water isn't helping. It's the Archduke's turn now, so he reaches the nearby mayor, and complains loudly before his wife tells him to chillax. Let's roll his next route and... Oh for fucks sakes, Lojka doesn't know about the change in plans."
"Can I just shoot him on his way back?"
"sure, princip."
"Crit."
"Fuck. Roll to confirm crit."
"There."
"Fuck. Okay, so you hit him (and his wife) in the jugular veins. The Archduke Franz Ferdinand remains upright, the Count asks him if he's alright, to which the Archduke replies "Sophie, Sophie! Don't die! Live for our children!" followed by six or seven utterances of "It is nothing.'. Congratulations, gentlemen. You have just started the First World War."
| 2018-05-29T07:34:04 | 2018-05-29T07:22:47 | 104 | 30 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | Major Meridith: we attack the Emus.
Dm: Alright, that will be your Lewis guns, thats going to be your Dex Mods, Plus your proficiency modifiers. Roll to hit.
Major Meridith: ... 1, plus my mods thats a total of 7.
Dm: the emus dodge your gun fire, they taunt you. They run south beyond your sight.
Major Meridith: we chase after them.
Dm: Alright, lets say you roll for nature to see if you can predict where the birds are going next.
Major Meridith: I uh... rolled a 16.
Dm: Yes thats enough. You track the birds down near Campion. You spot hundreds of them.
Major Meridith: we set up our guns and stsrt firing at them.
Dm: can you make a dex throw for that?
Major Meridith: god damnit, another 1. Plus my modifiers its a 4 total.
Dm: your guns jam only after firing a couple of rounds. And now you're a disgrace to your country.
Major Meridith: but at least none of my men suffered casualties!
Dm: you just wasted 3000 gp worth of ammunition, the quest reward for this wasn't even that high!
Major Meridith: Damn Emu's ill get them yet.
Dm: that'll wrap up this session. Well resume next time. There are OTHER adventure hooks you know.
| "Okay, with the guards on the wrong car, he's got a few less people protecting him!"
"Rad. He's approaching the Mostar café. Čabrinović, you were next in initiative because Mehmedbašić fell asleep and Ilić had to go home for work tomorrow, so your turn."
"I activate and throw my bomb."
"That's. a... mis- oh for fucks sakes."
"What?"
"Your Stupid Lucky feat. In the event of a miss, the attack has a chance of happening to another enemy adjacent. I should have placed the cars a bit apart from each other. Fuck. Okay, the bomb rolls under the car, and blows up the car BEHIND your target. Franz is spooked, bloodied, but has radioed guards to get you."
"Can I swallow my cyanide pill? Also use my move action to jump into the river"
"You can try. Roll a d20. I'm not sure what check it'll be so let's say DC 10"
"9"
"You fail to be poisoned... Actually, that was a decent roll, and as I hadn't planned for it... And no, Stupid Lucky doesn't apply if you're attacking yourself... You take the cyanide capsule. You're not dying, but you feel queasy. The river water isn't helping. It's the Archduke's turn now, so he reaches the nearby mayor, and complains loudly before his wife tells him to chillax. Let's roll his next route and... Oh for fucks sakes, Lojka doesn't know about the change in plans."
"Can I just shoot him on his way back?"
"sure, princip."
"Crit."
"Fuck. Roll to confirm crit."
"There."
"Fuck. Okay, so you hit him (and his wife) in the jugular veins. The Archduke Franz Ferdinand remains upright, the Count asks him if he's alright, to which the Archduke replies "Sophie, Sophie! Don't die! Live for our children!" followed by six or seven utterances of "It is nothing.'. Congratulations, gentlemen. You have just started the First World War."
| 2018-05-29T09:12:26 | 2018-05-29T07:22:47 | 51 | 30 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | “I sneak up behind my target, aim my derringer at his head, and pull the trigger”
“Roll a d20 twice against your agility and once against your dexterity”
A 5
A 17
D 12
“You successfully sneak up on your target and shot him in the head. However you chose a poor spot to hide while shooting and get spotted by a nearby theater patron. Your target dies within hours while you flee the scene under pursuit. The police know your identity”
“Imma hide in this here barn” | OK James, roll the dice
2
GM: Sorry, you missed.
The entire party is in shock. They tried with two other characters already. Both dead.
GM: The new enemies arrive. Rolls , 20. John, you died. Rolls again, almost James, you barely escapes this time.
The party starts arguing: You can't let this end like this GM! We were almost defeating the dictator, you can't do the same as the last campaign, where everyone died! We already lost so many characters on this one.
GM thinks... OK OK, I will give you another chance.
GM: The mercenary you worked with before arrives ,with buying some extra time for you. Some dice rolls, it kills two of them. But the big boss is still there. James, its your turn.
James - Ok, I will try one more shot.
20
GM: You heard the voice of your deceased master "Use the force, Luke". You disable the visual indicator and just senses the universe. A perfect shot in the core reactor, starting the sequence of explosions destroying the Death Star.
I hope the liberty I took with "Historical event" its OK.
Also, sorry for my English. It is not my first language. | 2018-05-29T09:28:35 | 2018-05-29T09:16:08 | 39 | 17 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | “So you’re storming the beaches of Italy in his game. Did you bring the WW2 character sheets?”
“Uhh... shit I brought my fantasy sheet for my ranger.”
“...”
“It’s okay! We can still play. Who was important in WW2 again?”
“Winston Churchill...”
“There we go! I’ll call my character Jack Churchill, and he’s storming the beaches with a broad sword and longbow.”
“Do you really have to do that?”
“Come on man it’ll be fun”
“... fuck it, sure” | OK James, roll the dice
2
GM: Sorry, you missed.
The entire party is in shock. They tried with two other characters already. Both dead.
GM: The new enemies arrive. Rolls , 20. John, you died. Rolls again, almost James, you barely escapes this time.
The party starts arguing: You can't let this end like this GM! We were almost defeating the dictator, you can't do the same as the last campaign, where everyone died! We already lost so many characters on this one.
GM thinks... OK OK, I will give you another chance.
GM: The mercenary you worked with before arrives ,with buying some extra time for you. Some dice rolls, it kills two of them. But the big boss is still there. James, its your turn.
James - Ok, I will try one more shot.
20
GM: You heard the voice of your deceased master "Use the force, Luke". You disable the visual indicator and just senses the universe. A perfect shot in the core reactor, starting the sequence of explosions destroying the Death Star.
I hope the liberty I took with "Historical event" its OK.
Also, sorry for my English. It is not my first language. | 2018-05-29T09:44:43 | 2018-05-29T09:16:08 | 35 | 17 |
[WP] You are not a superhero. You are just a Scout with a magical Bag of Holding and an incredible dedication to the motto "A Scout is Prepared". | Golrin grinned as his hands reached out for the red, throbbing sphere. He loved collecting new items, and even more if they were shiny, mystifying and powerful. The glow bathed his wide-opened eyes and visage. He relished having it, stowing it in his Bag of Holding, and using it only when the situation called for it.
His fingertips touched it and his body got tossed toward a wall. Golrin set his jaw and grumbled mid-air, dugging out an instant matress to hamper the impact.
"A Scout is always prepared," he muttered under his breath, and looked at the spindly sillhoutte in the distance. Whoever it was had heavy steps and great might. Only few people handled magic well enough to haul someone with such strength.
The Hidden Temple's walls trembled as he emerged, as if they were in the verge of crumbling down. Golrin hastily dug out a purple cloud, and blew on it. It expanded throughout the dark chamber, illuminating it and holding the stone in place.
"A Scout is always prepared!" he yelled, defying the grim, robe-clad man who chuckled in the distance.
"A skit is ilways pripirid," the man said, mocking him. He held out his right hand and clenched his fist. The sphere Golrin so desperately wanted flew toward him.
Golrin's blood boiled. His eyes throbbed wildly, as if they were having a seizure. A deep, scalding hatred ran through his veins, and he rose, with a wrath worthy of a god. He upended his Bag of Holding, unleashing a sea of objects. Some shone, others were mere rocks he liked and grabbed on his path, but they all came gushing out in an unstopabble tide of riches.
"What are you doing?" the man said, an edge of desperation on his voice. His eyes grew wild, as they gazed at the tsunami's mouth coming for him. He attempted many spells, but none stopped it.
Soon, the man found himself trapped amidst the mass of objects, the air started to lack, and with tear-soaked eyes, he let the pressure finally crush him.
In the distance, muffled and weak, Golrin spoke, "A Scout is always prepared," he said, and the Bag of Holding sucked all of the objects back inside, freeing him from an awful death.
Gasping and bruised, Golrin fumbled into his bag. There, shining and beautiful, the sphere lay with the death body of the man underneath it.
"A Scout is *always* prepared," he said, and walked away.
---------------------------
/r/therobertfall for more stories!
| *WN: Going to be slightly changing the prompt*
---
"Bag, could you pass us that bottle of Ghost Pepper Sauce? We're dealing with a problem of *gastronomic* proportions here!"
I put down my book and slid a bookmark in. "Sure! One moment." Standing up from my IKEA recliner, I put the book down and started along the many isles of shelving that made my workplace. Truthfully, finding the ghost pepper sauce was not going to be a challenge. I had done it many times before -- it takes a lot of heat to make a superhero sweat. They probably were just having some sort of crazy dare going on again. I was no matter to me. I get paid extraordinarily well for my role in this particular branch of the government.
Thinking back to the day I found this job in an ad made me smile as I crossed the carpeted floor (which was an absolute pain to install, let me tell you). It was for a secretarial role but came with a few eyebrow-raising additional caveats, not least the heavy level of security clearance, the long hours of isolation and the ability to assemble furniture. Shelves. Lots of shelves.
I'm a shelving expert now. Well, shelving, carpet (shag is a lot comfier than tile, let me tell you what) and the Dewey decimal system (the sauce would be at 641.638). I remembered my surprise when I met with the Scout. He was somewhat unassuming, of middling height and a fairly stocky build, but the most impressive thing about him wasn't him. It was his bag. Bags of holding didn't quite obey the laws of physics. It was much larger on the inside than it was on the outside, and that meant that the Scout could bring a lot of objects into any situations he might have found himself in. Another person more curious than me might have tried to find out just how large this bag was, but it wasn't in my job description, so I'm happy where I am.
Sauce bottle found, I made my way back to my recliner and climbed the ladder up towards the large circle suspended about 2 metres above the carpeted floor. "Here's the sauce, but you've only got two left. You'll have to get more soon."
"Cheers!" Another arm reached in through the circle and took the bottle from me. Job done, I settled back into my recliner and got started on my book once again. My parents were initially very much against what I was doing, what with the fact that I was putting myself in mortal danger and everything, but truthfully, it had been one of the least stressful jobs I've had to perform. It sure beat retail -- my boss is always happy with my work, and the work is varied. When I wasn't on retrieval duty while in the bag, I was either building more shelves from parts that were passed into the bag one by one, or working on keeping the catalogue up to date. Even though I spent a lot of time 'off the clock' outside the bag, I still got paid, as I was technically a sidekick (although my assigned name sucked), so that was cool. In a last attempt to persuade me not to take the job, they asked me what would happen if the Bag was taken by a villain. What would I do then? I shrugged and told them I'd take the risk.
The next day I bought a pair of scissors.
| 2018-06-08T09:09:55 | 2018-06-08T08:58:22 | 127 | 92 |
[WP] In 1,000 years, fantasy stories will be set in this era. Write a fantasy story set in the 21st century from the viewpoint of someone living 1,000 years from now.
Based on a post on r/showerthoughts | The world was different then. It was a brutal and magical place. Before the unification, before simulink, even before the great colonisation, there was a world of chaos and wonder. There was a world where great wizards still spoke in the language of machines, where the dark lords could pay to have their voice spoken from a million faceless lips, where men still wanted and died. A mere eight billion souls writhed on a speck in the darkness, flitting for but a moment before they were gone and replaced by those of their children; the children of men, their fate and likeness at the mercy of the cosmic dice.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
There were many magical and astounding places in this world. Far in the West sat the Greed Mines of Cole where unsatiable beasts of iron fed on the life-force of creatures long since forgotten, spitting out nought but smoke and spark. In the East sat the great Cities of Green, where men demolished great towers of real, natural wood because the land was more valued without it. Moving throughout it all, under the earth and through great black expanses of poison water, soaring overhead between uncountable tubes of wood and through the very air and sky itself... was the FIrst Web of Thought. This web was the only which had portals, light panels which would speak written word and boards which would listen to the words of men and spells of the machine languages, spoken only through the fingers.
&#x200B;
It was through one such portal on an ordinary day in this mystical world that a young wizard by the name of Andrew was propositioned to partake of a potion which could twist and fortify the very mind itself. A sharp *bing* alerted him to this.
"Amy: Coffee??"
&#x200B;
And it is here which our story begins, | In the 21st century, things were different.
It was known to many at the time as the beginning of the end. Or so everyone thought.
Humanity, it seemed, had finally run out of luck. We'd seemingly come so far, and bested ourselves time and time again in progress. The world was changing at a drastic rate. We were no longer beholden to manual labor like before, the world gradually becoming more connected through trade and commerce and technology.
It is said that the implants we wear were something they only dreamed of back then. Travel was primitive and dangerous. Many strapped themselves in alloy boxes of all shapes and sizes and made dangerous journeys across land and sea and air.
While there were better ways to do things, we were yet to even dream of becoming what we are now.
We communicated by archaic means. And much was lost in translation. We were not always as fortunate as we are now. As such, languages and cultures divided us time and time again. History repeated itself in various forms as it always had. This was for better on occasion. But mainly for the worst.
Sure, the 22nd and 23rd centuries are known for their more chaotic nature, but to ignore the beginning would be foolish.
Years of turmoil had put the world at edge. And people abused their newly obtained communications frequently. As a result, a world that became more modern had also become more paranoid and afraid.
Automation had begun. And with it came the abandonment of the ideas of old.
Life was fragile to say the least. The average person only lived to be 75, if they made it that far. Many did not. Perhaps it was a life lived on the edge, as free will and risk were still sought after. Perhaps it was the opposite, having shut themselves away from the world; in an attempt to escape in another way. Many found no reason to continue on at all. Some even thought it amusing to pit one against another. To even watch them destroy all near and dear.
For you see, we never really changed.
From the time when we still used sticks and stones. And discovered fire or the wheel. Humanity was always reshaping itself. With the end of the world always looming in the darkness.
It is here we begin our tale. In a different place. Our homeworld from the beyond. Earth.
In the year of our lord, two thousand and sixteen...
---
Figured I'd B.S. a opening for this type of story. It's a little late.
r/Jamaican_Dynamite | 2018-12-25T04:05:20 | 2018-12-25T03:25:31 | 120 | 14 |
[WP] You receive a government text warning saying “EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC”. You hear your SO at the locked front door, who’s just come back from the supermarket. They beg to be let inside but you’re unsure. Something doesn’t feel right. | "Sam?" I knocked a few more times. My knuckles were starting to hurt. I prayed she was home. She just had to be. "Sam, you're home right?"
"James, I-I'm... I can't let you in."
"Oh, Sam! Good, you were home." I leaned my cheek against the door in relief. "I got the text too. Not really sure what the hell it means but I'm fine with waiting a little while for this shit to blow over, whatever it is."
"James? I don't-I can't trust you." My usually brusque and firey girlfriend sounded genuinely nervous. I enjoyed the break in character, but kind of wanted to see it myself. I felt like it was a rare chance to experience her acting vulnerable.
"It's okay, Sam, I didn't ask you too. I have my key, but I'm not gonna open the door. I told you, I saw the text too." I figured there was something serious going on, so I didn't want to do anything that would really freak her out. "But can we move our conversation to the back door? If there really is something to be nervous about, I want to get off the street."
I waited patiently before making any move that would concern Sam. A soft "okay" slipped through the cracks in the door. I started to step away, when I was blitzed by a shout:
"WAIT!"
Then I heard thumping coming from inside. My eyes grew wide, and I felt a chill down my spine.
She has a bad habit of forgetting to lock the back door.
I jumped the fence and sprinted to the back door, which slammed shut and locked in my face, right as I arrived.
"Sam!" I yelled. My voice cracked a bit. I started to tear up. "Sam, please, are you okay?! Is someone in there with you?!"
No response.
"Sam! SAM!"
I slammed my fists on the door to no avail. She was unresponsive. I tore the screen off of one of the windows, grabbed a big rock, and hurled it. It went straight through. Without hesitation I jumped through the window. "Sam!" I shouted. I held my hands in fists, bloody from the broken glass.
Then I saw her.
Curled up in the corner of the kitchen, cowering and crying. Her head was buried in her arm. She gripped a knife tightly.
"Sam? Are you alright? Is someone else in here with you?"
She started to cry. "You! You're in here."
"Sam. Oh my God. I thought someone was in here with you! I was scared that someone got in, and you were in trouble." I was crying too. I was confused and afraid for her.
"No." Sam said. She kept crying. It was then that I noticed that something silver was dripping from the knife. It looked like blood -- just... Silver.
She looked up at me, eyes puffy from tears and fear, and I stared at her, waiting. She finally choked out what she meant to say:
"I said... I told you... You were in here..."
Oh shit.
I looked down the hallway and saw my own body on the ground with that silver blood pouring from the neck.
I looked at Sam.
She looked at the blood on my hands.
She dropped the knife and cried harder. I approached, slowly. She opened her arms, and I embraced her. I let her cry into my chest. She kept saying "I'm sorry" and all I could say was "It's okay," even though I felt like apologizing to her, for what she'd seen, and what she had to do.
She had finally calmed down a little, and began to wrap a towel around my hands.
Then we heard it.
"James?" And a knock at the door. | "Honey? Can you hear me? I'm back from Costco! My arms are kinda full here, could you give me a hand?
"Coming!"
Susan, my wife, called out to me just as my phone went off. I have it on vibration, so typically it just goes off once or twice. Nope, today it decided to have a full-blown orgasm. Wondering what the racket was, i swiped my phone from the coffee table and headed downstairs.
EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC. DO NOT OPEN YOUR DOORS OR WINDOWS. STAND BY FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.
Well, that's new. Was it a prank? Judging from how it was going off incessantly, it did look rather like an official channel. I've seen this sort of thing a few times this year - when the summer got too hot and the brush dried out, the fire department would spam us with these every few days. These things always had a knack of happening at the most inopportune times as well, like in the middle of my lecture last week. The cacophony of every phone going off and how everybody was going to turn them off at once was still rather amusing, though. It was almost as if they were synchronized. Harmony via cacophony. Lovely. But i digress.
I reached the front door. I could hear Susan tapping her foot, as she was wont to do when she was becoming impatient. It was always the right foot too. She's got her quirks, as lovely as she is. As I reached for the doorknob, I realized that the message specified not to open my door. But I couldn't keep her waiting like that. Oh well, we'll hole up after she gets in.
I opened the door.
Susan was there. Beautiful as always, somehow carrying two enormous bags of groceries that seemed larger than she was. She shifted her balance so I could take one. But I didn't accept. I was too busy looking at the sky behind her. Or more precisely, the lack thereof.
The sky was gone. No, not as in empty. It's usually empty. It's *supposed* to be empty. No, it was just gone. Not the whole thing, just a square-shaped patch over there near the setting sun. There was a clear-cut square of black where the sky should be. No, not quite black. Black is a pigment. But this just felt... empty. It felt as if a puzzle piece of the universe went missing, and I was staring outside of reality. Before my eyes, the neighboring squares slowly began to flicker and break apart. The sky.. was made of pixels?
Feeling dizzy, I closed my eyes. The familiar black of my eyelids gave me a small bit of respite as I tried to process what I had just seen. Tried, mind you, as my legs crumpled beneath me, my consciousness letting go, welcoming blissful oblivion.
I opened the door.
Susan was there. Beautiful as always, somehow carrying two enormous bags of groceries that seemed larger than she was. She shifted her balance so I could take one. But I didn't accept. I was too busy looking at the sky behind her. Or more precisely, the lack thereof.
The sky was gone. No, not as in empty. It's usually empty. It's *supposed* to be empty. No, it was just gone. Not the whole thing, just a square-shaped patch over there near the setting sun. There was a square of black where the sky should be. No, not quite black. Black is a pigment. But this just felt... empty. It felt as if a puzzle piece of the universe went missing, and I was staring outside of reality. Before my eyes, the neighboring squares glitched and froze
I opened the door.
Susan was there. Beautiful as always. But that wasn't important. The sky was gone. Cannot compute
I opened the door.
I opened the door.
I opened the door.
I opened rhe door.
I openeeeeeeeeeeee
----------
"Well, that does it. Now this damn thing won't even *try* to load the skybox. What kind of moronic thrice-damned spaghetti code did you have to use to break it so fucking hard? Oh, for fuck's sake. Roll it back to patch 11.2, the resolution might be lower, but at least it won't glitch out immediately." | 2019-01-12T08:28:48 | 2019-01-12T07:28:39 | 2,225 | 354 |
[WP] You receive a government text warning saying “EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC”. You hear your SO at the locked front door, who’s just come back from the supermarket. They beg to be let inside but you’re unsure. Something doesn’t feel right. | "Sam?" I knocked a few more times. My knuckles were starting to hurt. I prayed she was home. She just had to be. "Sam, you're home right?"
"James, I-I'm... I can't let you in."
"Oh, Sam! Good, you were home." I leaned my cheek against the door in relief. "I got the text too. Not really sure what the hell it means but I'm fine with waiting a little while for this shit to blow over, whatever it is."
"James? I don't-I can't trust you." My usually brusque and firey girlfriend sounded genuinely nervous. I enjoyed the break in character, but kind of wanted to see it myself. I felt like it was a rare chance to experience her acting vulnerable.
"It's okay, Sam, I didn't ask you too. I have my key, but I'm not gonna open the door. I told you, I saw the text too." I figured there was something serious going on, so I didn't want to do anything that would really freak her out. "But can we move our conversation to the back door? If there really is something to be nervous about, I want to get off the street."
I waited patiently before making any move that would concern Sam. A soft "okay" slipped through the cracks in the door. I started to step away, when I was blitzed by a shout:
"WAIT!"
Then I heard thumping coming from inside. My eyes grew wide, and I felt a chill down my spine.
She has a bad habit of forgetting to lock the back door.
I jumped the fence and sprinted to the back door, which slammed shut and locked in my face, right as I arrived.
"Sam!" I yelled. My voice cracked a bit. I started to tear up. "Sam, please, are you okay?! Is someone in there with you?!"
No response.
"Sam! SAM!"
I slammed my fists on the door to no avail. She was unresponsive. I tore the screen off of one of the windows, grabbed a big rock, and hurled it. It went straight through. Without hesitation I jumped through the window. "Sam!" I shouted. I held my hands in fists, bloody from the broken glass.
Then I saw her.
Curled up in the corner of the kitchen, cowering and crying. Her head was buried in her arm. She gripped a knife tightly.
"Sam? Are you alright? Is someone else in here with you?"
She started to cry. "You! You're in here."
"Sam. Oh my God. I thought someone was in here with you! I was scared that someone got in, and you were in trouble." I was crying too. I was confused and afraid for her.
"No." Sam said. She kept crying. It was then that I noticed that something silver was dripping from the knife. It looked like blood -- just... Silver.
She looked up at me, eyes puffy from tears and fear, and I stared at her, waiting. She finally choked out what she meant to say:
"I said... I told you... You were in here..."
Oh shit.
I looked down the hallway and saw my own body on the ground with that silver blood pouring from the neck.
I looked at Sam.
She looked at the blood on my hands.
She dropped the knife and cried harder. I approached, slowly. She opened her arms, and I embraced her. I let her cry into my chest. She kept saying "I'm sorry" and all I could say was "It's okay," even though I felt like apologizing to her, for what she'd seen, and what she had to do.
She had finally calmed down a little, and began to wrap a towel around my hands.
Then we heard it.
"James?" And a knock at the door. | Rachael texted me and said she would be back home here soon. Usually I would run to the store and grab groceries, but I was exhausted from work. Spent 12 hours working buoys and being on the boat really took a toll on me today.
I was laying on the couch watching Netflix. Finally getting some time to relax while our child was asleep. I was beginning to dose off, the sound of our fishs’ filter soothes me as I drifted into sleep.
My phone began going mad, buzzing and making some sort of sirens noise I never heard before. I jolted up to check it. It warned me to secure the house and not make contact with anyone. It seemed like a hoax to me. Or some sort of accident. Sort of like the Nuclear Missile scare in Hawaii. The Coast Guard has some sort of emergency text similar to this, and I hadn’t received that either. There was some banging on the door, following by a yell.
“BRODIE IT IS ME LET ME IN!”
I ran to the door and hesitated as I put my hand on the knob. What if this wasn’t a drill? What if this wasn’t her? I dismissed it quickly and hurried her in. She was terrified. You can see it in her tear filled eyes. She brought in a lot of groceries though just in case we needed it. She dropped them at the door and locked it behind us. I rushed into the office and grabbed our AR-15 we recently got for Christmas. It had a Holographic sight and a vertical grip. We have 5, 30 round magazines, and about 200 extra rounds. We dumped a lot of money in it and it’s looking like it might pay off.
Rachael turned on the news and began shutting blinds and getting stuff out. I rushed to the bathroom, closed the sink and bathtub drain and started the water. I took a quick peek outside, and everything sounded normal. Emergency vehicle sirens began wailing in the distance. Something that wasn’t abnormal, but now wasn’t the time for it. Once it was all filled I shut it off.
I locked all the windows in our pet room. The news was reporting the text, but not anything that was happening. It made no sense. I got a text from my OIC. Informing all members to report to the station for duty. And to bring our families.
When we arrived there, we had gate guard with long guns. Which is never a thing where we’re stationed. We had two police cars near our entrance, whom were also armed with long guns. Our families were directed to the galley, and I hurried and got in uniform and went to the watch room. There was mass hysteria on the lake. Everyone was trying to get their boats out of the water. Everyone in the park was either panicking or just in shock. I brought my AR-15 with me, and so did some of my shipmates. We were positioned outside till we figured out what was going on.
One of the other non-rates came outside and gave us gas masks. We were instructed to put them on and just stand watch. I was at the end of the police boats docks ensuring no one would swim on station. Some air national guard helicopters were flying around the city and the lake. Our boat crews were on standby awaiting a quick launch. A few hours went past and we were given radios. We were radioed that there was a zombie like outbreak occurring throughout the United States. But there were no reports in our state. The Army National Guard went a squad our way to help us stay secure. Two of our boat crew launched to conduct some search and rescue.
I know it might sound cheesy, and a bit cliche. But zombies? In real life? It sounded absurd. Night began to fall, and we were relieved and told to get food and rest. The police and army came inside with us. We locked up the station, and the boats and awaited further news. The news showed clips of literally the zombie apocalypse happening in major US cities. It was horrifying. Soldiers tried to quell the outbreak, but they just had to keep retreating. The news said they suffered few losses, but most of the civilian population was devastated.
I kissed my family goodbye as they loaded onto the Coast Guard chopper the would take them to a Navy ship in the middle of the ocean, where they would be safe. Just as the chopper disappeared, we heard gunshots in the distance.
First time writer on this thread, and I know it’s probably not great, but I love zombie apocalypse scenarios! | 2019-01-12T08:28:48 | 2019-01-12T08:26:32 | 2,225 | 49 |
[WP] You receive a government text warning saying “EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC”. You hear your SO at the locked front door, who’s just come back from the supermarket. They beg to be let inside but you’re unsure. Something doesn’t feel right. | I’m not even sure this is the right place to post, but I’m worried about my sister. About three hours ago I got a text from the Emergency Alert System. I checked my Facebook to see if anyone else got the same thing. It seemed like it was a practical joke and I couldn’t find anything in Google News.
My sister sent me these messages and I haven’t heard from her in over an hour. I’m hoping someone can give me some advice.
**Allison:** Hey Danny… did you get a text telling you to stay inside and lock your doors?
**Me:** Yeah. Pretty weird.
**Allison:** Any idea what’s going on?
**Me:** Nope. Just relaxing at home.
**Me:** Is Jonathan home from work yet?
**Allison:** No, he just went to the store. I’m kinda worried.
**Me:** I’m sure everything’s fine. You know the government is paranoid about every little thing. Probably an underground gas leak or something.
Allison didn’t respond for a while and I resumed my binge watching of Attack on Titan. That’s some weird shit, man. At this point, I wasn’t really concerned. My neighborhood was quiet, it was below freezing outside, and about two feet of snow had fallen during the day. Everything seemed normal.
**Allison:** Danny…
**Allison:** I’m scared.
**Me:** What’s wrong? Do you want me to come over?
**Allison:** No. Don’t go outside.
**Allison:** Jonathan is home.
**Me:** Well that’s good.
**Allison:** No. No something’s wrong with him.
**Allison:** I don’t know what to do.
**Me:** What’s wrong with him?
Three little dots danced at the bottom of my screen for more than five minutes before disappearing. I tried calling my sister four times with no answer. I tried to keep watching my show for a few minutes but my brain started playing all the “what-if” scenarios. I called again and Allison finally answered.
“Hello?” Her voice was small, quiet. Completely unlike her.
“Al?”
“Danny?”
“Allison, what’s going on? Why didn’t you answer the phone?”
“Something’s wrong with Jonathan. He’s not him.” She said, her voice hitching. Her shaky breaths sent a wave of anxiety to my stomach.
“Allison… did you open the door?”
“No. No. I’m hiding. I tried calling the police but it doesn’t go through.”
“What’s wrong with Jonathan?” I was pacing my living room, my jaw clenched. She was quiet for a while.
“He’s not him, Danny. He’s not him. He’s not walking right. And his voice. Oh God, his voice.”
“Is he hurt?” I asked as I grabbed my keys. “I’m coming over.”
“No!”
“What do you mean no? I’m coming over!”
“No! Danny, listen to me.” She whimpered again. I could hear a weird rhythmic sound in the background. “Listen. Something is wrong with him. With everyone outside.”
I hunched in front of my window and pulled the blinds apart with a finger. It was pretty dark outside but the snow reflected enough light that I could make out a group of people standing in the parking lot of my complex.
“What the fuck?” I muttered.
“Danny… what’s go-g on? Da-”
The called dropped. I gaped at the group of people as they formed a circle. Where they walked the depressions of snow were oddly dark. I squinted and leaned in closer, suddenly thankful to be on the third floor. The people raised their hands into the air as if they were making a “Y” and began to sidestep.
Their movements were unnatural, synchronized. I could see now none of them had any clothes on. They began screaming towards the sky as their heads bent back too far. They were standing straight up, heads touching their spine. They lowered their hands to join together and fell backward into the snow – faces and asses disappearing into the white powder.
I’ve tried calling Allison back. She won’t pick up. No one is picking up. I still have cell service but my water stopped working about 15 minutes ago and the power has been flickering. Does anyone know what’s going on? Has anyone else seen this stuff? I feel like I’m losing my mind. I can’t find anything about this online. No one is talking about it. Is it just here in the Midwest? Is it everywhere? If anyone knows anything… please. I really want to go check on my sister.
| “Charlie, are you fucking....oh my god...are you FUCKING kidding me?”
Charlie grit his teeth, looking back and forth from his phone to the door.
Pam held the mail slot open to look through, her eyes shining angrily through her circular glasses.
She must have been standing up on her tippy toes to reach, Charlie realized, and the thought of that almost made him laugh. He didn’t though, he was smart enough to avoid that mistake at least.
“Pam, shit, uhhh....Wait! Look at your phone, you got that text too right,” he asked.
Pam let out a dramatic ‘harrumph’ and allowed the slot to slam shut as she took a step back. A couple seconds later it reopened.
“Okay, yeah, whatever. I got the stupid text! So what,” Pam said.
“Sooo...”
“God dammit, Charlie, I have to pee so fucking bad right now. Please...ugh.” she sighed and the slot closed.
He could picture her composing herself in his mind, deep breathing, the way she always did before she went out on stage. The practiced performer putting herself in the zone.
“Charles,” she began slowly, “think about this logically. You know I ran to the grocery store. You know I was coming right back. Whatever the reason is that people are supposed to keep their door shut, you have to admit there’s at least a non-zero chance, and probably much higher, that it’s just ME returning from the store.”
Charlie shook his head. He couldn’t argue with that logic...But neither could he shake that gut feeling...
“Pamela,” he began, matching her tone, “you can see the pickle I’m-“
“JESUS Charlie, no I fucking can’t! Just let me in,” she snapped.
“Calm down, let’s talk this out.”
“Will you at least put this milk in the fridge? It’ll go bad in this sun.”
Was she trying to trick him? Well, he wasn’t about to fall for it that easily.
Ignoring the question, he cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s talk game theory,” Charlie said. “This is a classic prisoner’s dilemma. Two options on either side: I let you in, or...you know...not. And either you’re real, or, once again, not.”
“I hope you know how crazy you sound,” Pam said, “And if you think I’m TOUCHING you for the next month...”
“Just hear me out,” Charlie interjected, “Four possible outcomes. Three levels of payoff. The payoffs are: negative, we’ll call that -1. Neutral, which is 0. And positive, +1.”
“Hey Charlie, would you say me kicking your ass later is a negative payoff,” Pam said, “Sounds pretty positive to me.”
“Very funny. Now for the outcomes,” Charlie continued. “One, I let you in and you’re actually you. In this scenario we’re both content, so it’s a net neutral.”
“Two, I let you in and you’re NOT you. Well that’s pretty bad, maybe you’re an alien imposter or something coming to suck out my brains. -1, for obvious reasons.”
Pam rolled her eyes, “Since when do aliens “suck out brains”. And honestly, I’m not sure you’d have enough brains to make it worthwhile anyway.”
”Outcome three,” Charles said, “I DON’T let you in and you’re you. You’re pissed, maybe you make me sleep on the couch. But eventually it blows over, net neutral.”
“Finally, I don’t let you in and you aren’t you. In this scenario I potentially save my life, so, ya know, plus one.”
Pam stood speechless.
Charlie rubbed his temples, this was stressing him out. “So you see, when you add the correlated actions together, me letting you in is a net negative action. 0 and -1. Meanwhile, keeping the door shut is a net positive, 0 and +1,” he said.
Pam’s voice dripped with danger, low and steady. “I swear, Charles. If you don’t-“
“No,” Charlie shouted, “That’s cold hard MATH, Pamela!”
He clapped his hands together once and laughed. THIS is why he always said he’d be incredible in a zombie apocalypse.
Then he turned, walked into the kitchen, and made himself a peanut-butter sandwich. They were out of jelly, hopefully Pam had picked that up earlier at the store.
-
(TEN YEARS LATER)
“And now let’s turn back the clock,” the radio blared, “this hit topped the charts for three months beginning November,2020. “Net Negative” by Pamela Star!”
Charlie groaned. Ever since music streaming was outlawed in The Great Copyright War, radio had made a huge comeback. Which sucked because these motherfucking dj’s looovvvveeedd to play that damn song.
That familiarly sickening tune began,
“Two options on either side.
I could have lied, I might’ve died.
Just let me in,
Yeah, let me in.”
| 2019-01-12T08:53:28 | 2019-01-12T08:40:36 | 124 | 27 |
[WP] Instead of requiring sleep everyone has two distinct souls that share the one body; switching places when one gets tired and needs rest. Neither has access to the memories of the other and life for most is about learning to co-exist with another person they will never get to meet. | Cool, so basically: Write a story from a DID persons view point.
Here we go.
I always wanted to see the day.
But I was a night person.
I would only wake up after sundown and would always fall asleep right after sunrise.
I would always wonder how the world would look in daylight. I only got a glimps of it, at the sunrise.
Until one day, when my dream came true.
I wish it hadn't.
My throat hurt like from screaming a lot and it was dark. I thought it was night until I realised it wasn't.
I just was in the trunk of a moving car. My otherself must have fallen unconscious. But I woke up in her stead.
I was not tied up. My hands were hurting, probably from banging at the trunk.
The car stopped. I breathed in sharply.
I heard someone at the trunk. My hands found something sharp. A screwdriver.
"Here you go!" A young man opened the trunk and I jumped out screaming and rammed the screwdriver into his eye.
It was early morning. The people behind him started screaming in panic.
Now we are in jail.
You see, she didn't tell me. Didn't tell me that she is going to go to a festival. Going to be there all night. Going to shout and scream. That she will go in and out in the trunk of the car because she was underaged.
I only wanted to protect her.
And now she is gone.
And I am in jail.
Who will believe me?
Just a quick thing I wrote, so don't mind it not being as good :) | READ ME!!!!
I haven’t slept in 4 days now, with help from prescription meds that Aaron gave me. He’s worried about us. I’m worried too. Reality is well and truly gone. Light brings physical pain and there is a blurred film coating my vision that only clears when I squint my eyes. But squinting is too close to closed. I find wearing sunglasses helps with this.
The downstairs neighbour keeps knocking on our door. I guess they’re pissed off from all the thumping, but I don’t care. Ten more. I jump up and down with manic focus. “Don’t jump too high. You could faint, or lose your balance. Hit your head. Go to sleep. You can’t go to sleep. No. Stay with it Bluey.” I’ve started talking to myself. This keeps me present. Every bit counts. “Five more” I say to myself and to no one.
The adrenaline has kicked in, but by hour 97 the effects are barely noticeable. I sit down on the sofa. I’ve removed all the cushions and only rest on the edge of its wooden frame. I imagine myself lying down on the couch, sinking into it. I keep sinking into the comfort of the cushions. Sinking turns to seeping. A pinch starts at my back and grows outwards. I can feel my body being contorted and compressed, as if a greater power is forcing and weaving my body through the cold metal of the fold out bed. My body is somehow obliging. A warmth runs over my body and my mind jolts awake as I throw my body from the couch to the floor. A near switch. I’m running out of time. “Talk about comfort that kills”. I laugh. I cry.
I slide my body across my apartment to the pack of bandages that Aaron gave me. I’m redressing your wounds. You have not been well. My body, our body, is painted with scars. These ones were the deepest.
My eyes lock on the empty packet of pills on the table. It’s done. I have nothing left to give. I’m fighting, Carter. As hard as I can. My last hope and only hope is you. If you can’t just yet live for yourself, could you keep on fighting, for me? | 2019-05-29T05:17:42 | 2019-05-29T04:55:05 | 63 | 40 |
[WP] You’re a Superhero whose superpower is Deescalation. You fight villains by talking through their issues and helping them to make better choices. | The anti-matter crystal in his chest surges with a sudden energy. Slowly raising his fists above his head, the cloaked figure floats higher into the air. He calls to the citizens hiding in the streets below.
“No more! You did this to me, and now it will be undone. *Everything* will be undone. Feel the wrath ... of Chasm!”
His hands snap open, and a violent surge of dark energy sparks before him, slowly growing in size: the beginnings of a black hole.
You flick the switch on the megaphone. An awkward screech of feedback startles the people crowded around you on the busy city street corner.
“Uh. Chasm?”
The black hole stops growing. The figure looks down at you, a puzzled look on his face.
“Who said that?”
“Over here. Blue sweater.” You wait for him to make eye contact. “Hi.”
“Is that a megaphone?” The soon-to-be black hole shrinks ever so slightly.
“Uh, yeah. Wanted to make sure you would hear. You were getting pretty dialed in up there.” He pauses, baffled. You don’t waste another second. “So what did we do to you, exactly?”
His brow furrows, “Excuse me?”
“You said,” you drop your voice to match his baritone in parody, “‘You did this to me, and now it will be undone,’ so, uh, yeah, what did we do?”
“I suffered. For years! Endless experiments… tortured… you made me into what I am now, a monster!” The black hole surges as his anger swells.
But you are quicker, “But I didn’t do that.” You turn your head to face a woman crouched behind trash can “did you do that to him?” She shakes her head. “Yeah, dude, no one down here did that to you.”
“You… you humans! The collective you!”
“Whoa, whoa, so you are just lumping us in with all humans? That seems pretty extreme, man.”
“You.. your taxes funded the government experiments that replaced my heart with this… this damned crystal!”
“So now we are being killed for paying our taxes?”
“I, uh…”
“That money just comes out of my weekly paychecks man. I have no idea where it goes. It’s not like I checked a box labeled “Sketchy Government Programs””
“You... YOU.... I…”
“You’re up there, floating around like an asshole, making it sound like I signed a Go-Fund-Me for evil human experiments.”
“Fuck!” His hands snap closed, and the black hole vanishes. “Alright, alright. I get it. Who are you, anyway?”
“Does it matter? Just go home, dude.” | "Listen, I understand how you feel."
&nbsp;
Both men stood atop a two-hundred-foot tall skyscraper. Above them, a gigantic array of perfectly precise death lasers loomed, ready to annihilate at a moment's notice.
&nbsp;
Vladimus the Dark turned quickly, "How could you? How could anyone? You don't understand what I've been through."
&nbsp;
Our hero was patient. His experience kept him calm even as he recognized true panic in the man across from him. He had seen that sort of desperation in men before. It was caused by the internal struggle that was always present when evil had taken root.
&nbsp;
"I do not, that is correct. But I do understand what you are about to do. You are about to kill because you are insecure, weak without a release valve with which to purge those uncomfortable feelings."
&nbsp;
Vladimus chuckled, "The great hero came all the way here to tell me that I am 'insecure'? I expected more..."
&nbsp;
"You've never had control. Your father beat you and your mother. You acted out in school, were expelled, and lost the ability to control your own destiny through achievement or excellence."
&nbsp;
Vladimus' tone grew solemn, "My father only beat my mother, never me."
&nbsp;
"And you could not save her from that. She is dead, then?"
&nbsp;
Vladimus shifted nervously but shook his head, "No, alive. She lives in an apartment in lower Manhattan."
&nbsp;
The gentle superhero let his heart bleed for the man, "I bet it is hard for you to look her in the eye after everything you've seen."
&nbsp;
"It is harder knowing that there is nothing I could do to stop it, nothing I can do to change what happened."
Vladimus the Dark stepped away from the annihilation console and lowered himself to the ground. Our hero moved slowly to his side and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
&nbsp;
"We all fight against the movement of events. This is a waste, I think. Instead, change the direction of future events. Be the rock in the river that diverts the flow. Do good things and watch as the world changes before your eyes."
&nbsp;
Vladimus looked deep into the hero's eyes. It was obvious that he wanted to change. The dark villain envisioned futures where he was different and capable of more kind pursuits. Kids, dogs, houses, love. All of the normal pieces of life flashed through his mind. He wept, then, and wished things were different.
&nbsp;
In the end, our hero made a brave decision. Instead of allowing Vladimus to kill all those that the laser pointed toward, he did it himself. The hero of heroes moved himself toward the console and pressed the button that triggered it all. The annihilation was swift and complete.
&nbsp;
When it was over, Vladimus the Dark, with tears still glistening underneath his eyes, asked why he did it.
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
"So that you wouldn't have to." | 2019-12-07T20:08:01 | 2019-12-07T19:25:31 | 1,234 | 308 |
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