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[WP] “So you’ve come hero.” The most powerful dark lord in history says as he faces you across the hall. But before you take another step, he motions to the cutest little girl you’ve ever seen with tears in her eyes. “But first, please explain to my granddaughter why Grandpa needs to die.” | "Why....?" the little girl stammered, her face full of tears. "Why does Grandpa need to die? He hasn't done anything wrong!"
I stopped and looked towards the little girl.
"Your grandfather needs to die", I replied, "because he is the worst person in the world."
"That's not true! He-"
I cut her off. "Your grandfather needs to die because he has murdered millions of innocent people. Your grandfather needs to die because he killed my parents when I was younger than you. Your grandfather needs to die because he made me watch as my friends were tortured and executed."
I turned to face the dark lord, readying my sword. "That's why your grandfather needs to die."
The dark lord laughed. "That's a lot of talk, hero. But can you really do it? Can you really make a little girl watch as her grandfather is killed?"
I stared him in the eye. "No, no, I can't." And then, I charged. But not towards him.
"No! Wait, stop! What are you-"
My sword plunged straight through the little girl's chest, her tiny body going limp as I lifted her into the air. Behind me, the "dark lord" vanished in a puff of smoke.
"I...impossible" the little girl croaked, her voice now a deep rasp. Her face began to shrivel and wrinkle, and her body grew in size until I was met with the true form of the dark lord. "The illusion was flawless... how could you have known? I don't understand...."
"You've never cared about a single person in your life, so of course you wouldn't understand. No actual grandfather would ever put his granddaughter in such a dangerous situation. Only a monster like you would ever think a grandfather would do that." | "So here you are. Would you like to explain, or should I?"
I look at Amy, crying, and put my hand under my chin, and raise it up. And then in the same way as I showed her, she does the same.
"I'm sorry, honey," I say to her. "You deserve better."
“Enough!" The Dark One screams, silencing her and knocking her over with a wave of his hand. "I think you should explain to her why her dear old grandpa has to die."
I look at her, my beautiful twenty-five-year-old granddaughter, and I see the same scared little girl...
\-
*"I'm scared, grandpa," she says into my shoulder. We're about fifty yards from the dugout, so I don't think anyone can hear us.
“It's just softball," I say to her. "Softball is one of the only things that's fun that I can still do anymore."
“But what if I miss every time? All the other girls will laugh at me."*
*"They might laugh at you. But so what? At some point in life, people are going to laugh at you, honey."*
*"Easy for you to say," she says, pulling back. Looking into her spiteful ten-year-old eyes, I realize there's so much she doesn't know about me. "You're a superhero."*
*"But there was a time when I wasn't one," I say. "The only reason I got these powers is because I showed I was ready to be brave even without them."*
*I put my hand under her chin. "You know what I used to do, sweetie? Every time I was scared, and believe me, there were some scary villains, I would put my hand under my chin."*
*"And then what?" she asks.*
*I push her chin up, just a little bit, so she is looking up, above me, at the skies. “It doesn't mean that much, but it means you're ready. That you can handle whatever comes, right? That no matter what happens, you'll be okay. Does that make sense?"*
*"Ok," she says. "When are you going to tell me about all the villains you fought?"*
*"One day," I say. "In fact, if you go back out and finish the game, I'll tell you one after. What do you say?"*
*But she's already running back on the field.*
\-
(continued below) | 2019-12-11T21:16:13 | 2019-12-11T17:53:44 | 616 | 78 |
[WP] You are a nice person, but your superpower is that you instinctively know exactly what to say to someone to crush them. You're very effective in throwing supervillains off their game, but your fellow heroes always feel really uncomfortable watching you work. | Infection laughed manically as the bridge slowly rotted away "NEXT IT WILL BE THE CITY!" he screamed, His short period of celebration was cut short when a bored voice said "Yup. Yeah. Of course, standard supervillain, go for the freaking terror factor" Infection snapped around to face his challenger, a regular looking man sipping on a Quicktrip slushy dressed In a hoodie with an eye graphic, jeans, and a pair of old Adidas shoes "And you are?"
"You can call me Robert, Or if you wanna get technical The Looker"
"Ah". Said Infection, This man looked fairly normal. with Brown hair that was slightly unkept, and average hight, the thing that was strange about him though, were his eyes. They were a steel grey and seemed to have a strange quality to them that made Infection feel like his very soul was being searched, Behind him a few more well known heroes assembled "Well?" Said Infection "Attack me already!"
"You sure about that chief?" said Robert in his monotone voice,
"YES"
"Aight then, Lets do this" Robert stared right at Infections face and said "No matter how much you try, no matter how much effort you put into your concoctions, poisons, and whatever. You're still just a common criminal"
"What? was that supposed to be hurtful?" Laughed infection
"Oh. Must not have probed far enough, huh. Lets try this again". Robert once again looked at Infection and said "You killed him"
"what." said Infection in a quiet voice "did you just say?"
"You're dad. Officer Daniel F. Longbow, You were the reason he died. You know that, I know that. And now everybody behind me knows that". Infection was silent "how did you kn-"
"You were directly connected to his death through joining up with those drug dealers right? They offered you quite a bit to come up with a new type of illegal drug and you came through, first shipment your dad happened to intercept and he was shot several times and died, if you hadn't of agreed to that deal he may still be alive"
Infection sniffed then sat on the ground, staring at the pavement in a hunched over position, "Okay, I think y'all can take him, He probably shouldn't give you any more trouble". Robert walked over to infection crouched down and said "Sorry man, I didn't mean to crush you that hard". Infection either didn't hear him or simply ignored him, Soon a squadron of police arrived, relieved Infection of his gear. And brought him to jail. "Dang," said a hero called Whirlwind "You really uh. crushed him"
"Sadly yeah, I mean. I wanted to crush him but not like that badly. Nothing can fix that now I guess" Robert shrugged "Oh well, He'll recover... I think?"
​
This is slightly confusing reading back... Oof. | Whenever I don the garb of The Demoralizer, deeply do I ponder the impact of what I have yet know will be said, though undoubtedly crushing in its delivery to my would be opponent.
"Keep your wits about you" I murmur to my reflection, striped by the rolling waves of streetlights as I race to the valley, where it is said a riot is underway. Passing under the Broadway tunnel, I hear the echo of Cutlass, my greateat ally, called too by this gathering run amok. Although I cannot see him, I know he is cloaked and near, and I feel the vibrations of his stealthy vehicle.
Low ceiling approaches, the tunnel nears its end and the whirring amplifies.
Sparks cloud my vision as Cutless competes for clearance. "You've grazed my car, oaf of Plainsview and..." I breath. Must refrain. Must withhold the demons in my voice before their misdirected scorn befalls an errant mark.
Driving over cracking glass, shattered on the blacktop of a darkened market street. They've mostly moved on but aren't far. Cutlass has rounded the corner, but I see two looting the AM/FM Cabin. "Stop what you're doing," I say as I rise from my beige Studebaker Commander. "Please just go."
One continues to pillage without acknowledging, and the other smiles: a glint of silver reflects from his teeth. "What we have here, aye. You're not the owner, not in that fruity lil' get up. You're not the police."
"No, but this shop belongs to good people, and you're taking what doesn't belong to you. Leave now."
The attention of both now turn to me, and I feel the demons rising to the top of my throat. The lumbering second wheel pipes up with, "Oy. Fuck off, you. Or I'll do to you what I did to the shopkeep who was too stupid to leave better off alone."
No longer would they remain silent, as the men closed in, and unable to hold back I muttered, "Jacob... That was his name. He named his son Perry. He never meant to leave you and your mother, Beth, Perry. He didn't leave for cigarettes and never return like she told you. He didn't know you were on the way when she left."
"Snap out of it, Per," the little one irked with a silver grin. "He's The Demoralizer, mate. He's just trying to get in your head. It's all bullshit. Don't listen."
Big Perry dazed, Slick Seth still approaching, and I: "Like you never listen. You could have saved her if you heard her choking, but you never listen. She looks at you from hell, thinks your fat, and wishes that gun never jammed while you were hogh in that tub."
"ENOUGH!" He scowled and shrunk. Was it something I said?
"I would have just arrested them, but what you do is a travesty," Cutlass remarked from a shadow.
"Your comments, like your penchant for voyeurism, are off putting, Cutlass, and if you'd have gone another block you might have prevented your sisters best friend from being stabbed behind the Aldo's Books."
"Turn it off freak. We have to quit fucking with these guys. There's a bigger problem. This riot was caused by one person... someone who can incite others to violence with just the power of his voice."
I paused... nobody had ever wielded the same power of voice as I. "So, he's like me, then?"
"No," said Cutlass. "It's only your face that incites violence."
...
He's learning. This can't be good. | 2020-02-25T15:50:31 | 2020-02-25T15:34:57 | 27 | 19 |
[WP] You've been captured by aliens, who attempt to torture you for information. However, it turns out that none of their torture methods are actually harmful to the human body in any way. | Todd woke up with little idea of where he was or how he had got there. Before he had time to gather his thoughts some...thing was trying its damndest to get his attention.
"@@%#&÷&[[£¥\€□"
Todd screamed in terrror.
"@^[[]@@@"
Todd screamed in horror.
"@^[[]@@@"
Todd was going to scream again before the creature covered his mouth. The creature turned a dial on a collar it was wearing.
"I said, stop screaming!"
It slowly uncovered Todd's mouth. Todd's eyes were still full of fear but he did not scream.
"Finally. Now, if you want to live you'll listen to my every command.
Todd nodded then heard a "psst." It was a human man and human woman. The man was snickering while the woman was shaking her head.
"Tell me how to make fire", The creature ordered.
The human pair both shook their heads as the man tried his hardest not to laugh. Todd was unsure of whether he should listen to them or not. Laughing in a situation like this is either a sign of really high or really low composure.
"...No", Todd replied.
"Then I'll have to make you talk won't I?" The creature growled.
Todd was starting to regret his decision until he looked upon the humans to find both were giggling as quietly as possible. The creature retrieved a gadget from a shelf. It had three prongs and a crystal in the bottom. Before Todd could react the creature jabbed the prongs into Todd's shoulder. Todd felt... nothing. He had thought it would hurt immensely or at very least pierce the skin, but instead it vibrated softly.
"THAT'S THE THIRD ONE TODAY! I've had this thing inspected two times already! Moron, get in here!"
Another creature entered the room. Before it could speak the first creature jabbed the gadget into it's side. "Moron" screamed out in pain before dropping to the floor convulsing. The human pair finally bursted out in laughter. Even Todd snickered.
"What? How is- why won't- ugh fine."
The creature opened some sort of pod and rifled through it, mumbling under its breath the whole time.
Before long it pulled out another gadget. This one looked like a pen with a crystal on top. The creature pointed the crystal at Todd and a laser hit Todd right in the leg. It was lukewarm at best. After having the laser trained on Todd for at least a minute the creature slammed the pen to the ground where the laser then hit "moron." He was still convulsing and couldn't cry out in pain as the laser dug into his skin.
After what felt like hours of different gadgets doing nothing the creature finally gave up.
"Fine! You know what, you win! Get out of my ship!"
Right as the creature prepared to hit a button, "moron" burst into flames.
"That's it? That's how you make fire? By sacrificing on of your own? That's horrid. I'll have you know that the Avino kind are loyal by heart and nature. We would never do something so vile as to sacrifice our own for fire."
"Your friend is still burning."
"That is beside the point."
Before Todd could make a rebuttal he saw a bright light and before he knew it he was back home. | The titanium shackles held me still, feeling like a strong arm pressing my wrists to the stone wall. I struggled for a bit, and then gave up. I had only woken up a few minutes before, from being drugged with... I swallowed my spit to check, and it tasted slightly sweet. Chloroform. How long was I out? Couldn't have been too long since the effects of chloroform don't last long. But then again, they could've pumped the gas in here until they wanted me awake. Hmm... I studied my surroundings, the only things beside the stone wall and me is a huge door, and a vent. Both are probably titanium as well. The cell is probably about 5 ft, or 1.5 metres both ways, so if I wanted to lie down I couldn't anyway. God, what even happened to get me here?
Thinking back, our whole operation was a bad idea. But it was exciting and new, so nobody paid attention to what could have happened. Until it did.
We built a base on planet Echo#4456, for studying alien life and how their skin, blood, and cells react to different things. To us, the aliens weren't people. Their separate way of communicating set us apart off the bat, and it was just up to who was stronger as a species. We knew many people would think of our rather, torturous, studies as animals abuse, so we kept it secret until we were able to find a planet that fit us. We captured hundreds of aliens, so that we could research and experiment on them. Many of them died, since we figured out they need to ingest uranium to survive a month after taking them hostage. Fast forward a year, and we think we know everything about these aliens. We were so, so wrong.
That fateful day, aliens stormed our base and killed everybody except me, and two others. 200 scientists were killed. We had no way of telling that to earth, since they cut off our communications an hour before the attack. I have no idea how they figured this out, but I'm the only one with the codes to the biggest uranium mine in the galaxy. That, I assume, is why I'm here and not dead. They might assume the two others know as well, so I hope they torture me first, since I can take a lot of pain anyway.
A creak in the door startled my thoughts, and a bald, pale creature with small green eyes, butterfly wing-shaped ears, and a thin, pale body appeared.
"Follow me." said a robotic voice, as the creature spoke in its own language. The shackles broke, and I fell to the floor. Rubbing my wrists, I stood up and followed the creature out.
They took me to a windowed room, viewing the alien city with it's endless star-scrapers. The alien-man in front of me stopped.
"This is my city," said the robotic voice. "We are low on uranium, so hundreds of citizens are dying every day."
The creature turned to me, somehow portraying sadness in it's solid green eyes. "We need the codes, if you could give them to us now, it will save you the pain later."
Their sob story might be true, I think, nodding. But I know something that they don't know I know. They're planning to use the uranium from the mine to build some super-weapon, and destroy earth. I know this because we found their plans when we discovered the mine. That's why we locked it up in the first place, so there's no way I'm telling them the codes.
"you're not getting any info from me," I said, as an implant on my skin turned my English into their language and played it back. "so do your worst."
The creatures forehead scrunched, surprised I said no in the first place.
"very well then, commence torture."
​
\> I'll do a part two if this gets attention, for now it's pretty long so I think this'll be a good stopping point. Thanks for reading! | 2020-07-28T16:16:39 | 2020-07-28T13:55:58 | 114 | 49 |
[WP] Little girl finds wounded kitten and adopts it, not knowing, that it's deadly shapeshifter that hides from hunters. Shapeshifter sees it as a good way to hide, but after some time, he starts to like full bowl of food and warm bed near fireplace. | Salty cereals. Fluffy old sweaters. A smokeless fireplace. Bit of jazz. Raindrops on windows.
All of my favorite things.
A little human girl of nine, living with loving parents. A bit absent sometimes, but always loving. The little girl always happy.
She found me first, in a cardboard box. Outside the streets. Me bleeding, hungry, wet, cold, and foremost lonely. One might know why. Hunters. Secret human government branch. That make sure fairy tales remain fairy tales. Very efficient. Very cruel.
I had turned in to a kitten. A familiar shape. An elegant shape. Cats are like liquids. Very stretchy. Feels like the most primal form of a shape shifter. Always fitting. Always predator. Always existed.
This human girl took me in the midst of snow. Her umbrella rested on where the box laid. The box carried to her house. She carried snow on her head. Looked like a hat was forming. With no umbrella for cover.
She would ask her parents. Her first ever big request. Parents did not seem to enjoy my sudden intrusion in to their life. She insisted she would bath me, feed me, and take care of me. Her first big lie, that was. But, I didn't mind. Neither did the family.
Everyday, she would go out, and come back in. Everyday, I would try and rub myself on her legs in effort for her to not go, as the home was very empty. Like the thousand years I've been alone. Then she would return well in the afternoon. In her always clothing. I would wait by the border of the housing, and meow in joy. For she filled up the room whenever she went. With happiness. For a such small creature. The shine radiated greatly. We would sleep next to each other. Even if I was not really a creature to sleep at night.
Only time I had disliked was when she bathed me, an ageless shape shifter. I could never get used to the feeling of getting washed by a little girl, let alone a human.
This had been for the last ten years or so. She would be. She started to care less and less of me. Her interest had shifted to human boys. I knew this was bound to happen. I had always heard of these tales. But, never experienced it myself. I was ready to let it go. Let it slide.
But, real fairy tales rarely end in a happy note. A reflection of life. Life is rarely happy.
He turned out to be abusive, the boyfriend. My latest best friend, the girl who saved me from potential death that day. A naive girl she might not have been. But, she was manipulated. A shape shifter disguises appearances for survival. But, this human was a shape shifter of the face. His true intentions disguised for something other than survival. For power. For sexual power.
She came in one night, partially ripped clothing. I didn't even have to ask. Anyone could tell. Sign so obvious. If it was from God before the great flood, everyone would have built an ark.
She would be in the bathtub, shower running. Her parents on a leisure trip. Not to be seen until Sunday.
I comforted her as best as I could. Then, managed to see her sleep.
Through, the next few days. I would confirm, she no longer cared for him.
I left through the cat door that night.
It had been in nearly a decade since I took my original form.
It had been in nearly a decade since I ate anything other than Salty cereals.
>!Edit:!<
>!let a lone a human - > let alone a human!<
>!Only time, I had -> Only time I had!<
>!bathtub in shower -> bath tub, shower running!< | The life of a shapeshifter was a constantly changing one if you will excuse the poor joke. It was an eternal bluff, shifting into different creatures/objects to avoid being hunted. I had been ready to accept my death after the last encounter with the hunters, no matter how large or powerful I made myself, they had more numbers, eventually tearing through my defences until I only had enough energy to take the form of a small kitten, escaping onto the streets. My wounded body struggling, broken leg dragging behind me before I collapsed onto the cold sidewalk. I couldn’t keep running, my body was at its limit. Hearing the approaching footsteps, I gave one last roar of defiance, glancing towards my killer only to meet the face of a puzzled looking girl.
“Kitty?” She asked, as if expecting an answer from me.
I only gave another small meow, dropping my head to pavement once more. There was no point attempting an escape. Even a weak human had more strength than I did. When her hand approached, I expected to meet my end, not to get tucked away in the suffocating warmth of her jacket. The next few hours were fuzzy, The sound of conversations, loud shouting being the child and what I could only assume to be parents. Then everyone went black.
When I awoke I was lying on a bed, that familiar suffocating grip being wrapped around my body, turning to see the same girl, arms wrapped around me, holding me. My body was sore, but I didn’t feel as though I was on death’s door. My leg, tightly wrapped, kept in place. Had she saved me?
I went to make my escape, not trusting the small human, but the bed was a steep fall, especially with my leg. My current situation trapping me atop the bed. I told myself that I would stay here until I was healed, once I was back in fighting condition escape would be simple. It’s not like a small human could stop a mighty shapeshifter.
“Mr Mittens? Are you awake already, the vet said you would be asleep for the entire night, you must be a special kitty.”
Again she picked me up, this time her grip was lighter, making sure not to touch my leg. It was an odd act of compassion that I had never witnessed in a human. I tried to seem threatening, wanting to make sure she knew her place, but even the loudest hiss wouldn’t deter her.
“You must be sore. Mum says you can’t sleep in my bed, but I snuck you inside. You needed a hug. How about a bed near the fireplace? It’s usually my favourite place to lay, but you can have it.”
With a cheerful squeal, she gave me another hug before taking me towards this fireplace. I panicked, scratching at her, assuming the human had lolled me into a trance. This so-called innocent human knew my weakness. She intended to burn my body. But she didn’t. Even when my claws dug into her arm, she gently placed me onto a soft cushion.
“Ow, Mr Mittens, please be careful, that really hurts.”
She rubbed her arm as she walked away from me. What a strange human. Why was she being so kind? It had to be a trick. When she returned, she had a bowl of dry biscuits, shaking the bowl in front of my face before dropping it.
Did she expect me to eat that? It seemed she did, motioning me to try some. With limited options, I started eating only to find it edible, not even poisoned. The taste was average, but I was starving. I dove into the bowl, eating as much as my small body would let me before flopping onto my back.
That’s when she patted me. It spooked me at first, but I was so full, not having the energy to fight her, just letting her pat me. It was strange; the sensation was actually bearable.
A few months had passed since that day and I was still in front of that fireplace, watching its threatening embers. I had told myself that I would leave once I recovered, but anytime I went to leave; I found myself back here. Unable to abandon the girl that saved me. She had proven herself to be a friend. I refused to leave until I repaid my debt to her, it’s not like this life is bad, anyway.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2020-09-19T04:38:37 | 2020-09-19T03:32:49 | 1,727 | 687 |
[WP] Little girl finds wounded kitten and adopts it, not knowing, that it's deadly shapeshifter that hides from hunters. Shapeshifter sees it as a good way to hide, but after some time, he starts to like full bowl of food and warm bed near fireplace. | She called me Muffin. I was so small that she cut a hole in a floral print sock to stick my tiny head and forelegs through. I was shivering from the rain I could barely do more than mewl and purr in appreciation.
Humanity had developed a lot in terms of technology in the past few decades since I had been out on the run. I was introduced to an electric blanket, a fluffy blanket, and a bowl that I could fit inside. That was to be what I was fed from. She poured in a pile of fish from a can. My tiny stomach hadn't been filled in weeks, so I wound up eating until my stomach was about as round as the can.
She had to come rescue me from the bowl. My cries could have woken the dead, she warned me, putting a tiny finger to my nose and shushing me. I was then placed in a cardboard box, which I shredded a hole in to peek out of at the outside world.
I was in a stone room, a roaring fire next to me. She teetered in with a pile of wood she could barely see over the top of and set it in a basket, occasionally feeding the flames.
She was dirty, skinny, with lot of tangles in her hair. I think she saw me as a kindred spirit. I was alone for most of the day, with the walls of cardboard being my barriers to the outside world. My tiny heart hammered into my ribs, fearing the hunters would break into the abandoned cabin and find me, then just take the box and leave.
But they never came.
She would come at the same time everyday, pushing open the door, her bag full of cans. She would scrape the contents into my bowl, start the fire, and read from a pile of books she'd collected from the local library. I soon learned the harrowing tales of Junie B Jones, Horrible Harry, and Peter and the Starcatchers. I wonder if she would have put in more or less effort if she new I listened to every word. Maybe I could have requested a newspaper reading to catch up on current events.
"I wonder if I'm not feeding you enough." She said one day, peering into the top of the box. "You're not getting any bigger."
The next day she came to the cabin to find a large tiger on the electric blanket, the split cardboard box still under me, licking the inside of a can.
"... I think I'm going to need more tuna." | Annual Meeting: Carlucci Crime Syndicate
----
"Our numbers are looking great! Fifteen high-level assassinations this quarter, with over 1,200 lower-level hits. Special shout-out to the Espoza Family for our fantastic Lat-AM performance!"
Mario Espoza blushed slightly. Personal praise from Ashley Carlucci herself was a surefire ticket to greater things in the Syndicate. Perhaps even a seat at the Small Council!
"And now, if you'll excuse me, let's adjourn."
"Mogs? With me." Ash smiled, as I leapt onto her shoulder and purred.
----
"So whatcha think Ash? All good?" I coaxed.
"Mostly, Mogs. Madam Zhang and the Triad felt a little off today." Ash mused.
"Yeah. I thought so too. A bit arrogant. Might be planning something. Want me to look into it?" I asked.
"Discreetly." Ash agreed.
"Aren't I always the pinnacle of discretion?” I teased mildly affronted.
“Except when you want belly rubs.” Ash parried.
“Touché Ash.” I laughed before heading out for business.
—-
“So it’s bad, Ash. Like almost as bad as the time you put Skooky in the washing machine bad.” I said, still a little miffed that she’d washed my favorite toy and gotten rid of most of the catnip smell in the process.
“That bad?” Ash smiled in concern.
“Yes.” I replied simply. “They want control of the Carlucci Syndicate and sadly have a pretty ingenious plan.
“Not in my lifetime! That’s my damn name!” Ash struck the table for emphasis.
“Indeed. You need to keep a cool head though, Ash. We’ll beat this. We always do.” I said gently.
“You’re right, Mogs.” Ash replied blushing slightly about the cool head comment.
“So here’s my counter plan. We take out Zhang’s number two. I shapeshift into him and then kill Zhang. The ensuing power vacuum should keep them busy for a while. What do you think?” I paused.
“Perfect. I love it!” Ash smiled, more at ease. “Definitely some fresh-caught Alaskan King Salmon in your bowl when you get back.”
I purred.
——
As I headed to the airport to board my private plane to Beijing, I grinned. This should be fun.
Besides, I owed Ash. When I was a young demon, I’d got caught out in kitten form and beaten up pretty badly. Pops was mad at me again, so no help there. Ash took me in, nursed my wounds and showed me what unconditional love was like.
Don’t get me wrong, there were some awkward conversations over the years:
“So hey Ash, I can talk.” met with a shriek of delight.
“Hey Ash, I’m a shapeshifting demon from the Underworld” was less well-received initially.
Luckily for me, crime was in her blood. Since birth she’s been groomed to takeover the third-rate Carlucci Family. Our joint efforts and dozens of well-targeted hits later and bada-bing bada-boom, we’re number one baby! | 2020-09-19T09:38:04 | 2020-09-19T09:13:43 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] You made it to the semi-finals of a nationwide elite wizardry competition. The crowd loves you, and the esteemed judges regarded you as the dark horse of the competition, with your unorthodox approach. There's just one problem; You don't know how to use magic. You never did.
Bonus points if you find a way to include a harmonica solo. | How had no one realized I was a fake? I'd signed up for the wizard competition as a joke. Figure it was a bunch of Harry Potter fans running around on broomsticks pretending they were playing quidditch.
In the first round I did card tricks. Wizards aren't great at probability--it turns out their education system skips math in favor of alchemy--so they were all shocked when I guessed what card a girl from the audience was thinking of.
In the second round, I wrapped ten chains around myself and swallowed the key. The audience gasped like they'd never heard of Houdini. It turns out wizards skip anatomy and physiology, and study astronomy instead. Afterwards I asked the emcee if he'd ever heard of a double joint and he asked what kind of door I needed it for.
Honestly, a nice guy. I felt bad for deceiving all of them.
And now, I was the piece de resistance. A darkhorse nobody who'd walked in off the streets and made it to the final round. People were already whispering things like "chosen one" and talking about about how I'd match up against "the bad one."
Sweat trickled down my forehead from the hot spotlight. A woman in the back screamed my name and fainted. The rest of the audience took up the chant. "Eustace! Eustace! Eustace!"
I was out of tricks. No more cards, no more chains. A good magician always prepares, and I'd assumed the whole thing was a joke. No time to set-up sawing a woman in half. I didn't have a partner who was in on the trick.
It was just me.
And my harmonica.
I nearly dropped it pulling it out of my pocket, what with my sweaty palms.
"Music!" gasped a man in the front. The word traveled through the rest of the crowd like a wave. The emcee suddenly looked nervous and mopped his brow.
Had these people never seen a harmonica? Listened to some Bob Dylan?
I put the harmonica to my lips, trying not to remember the disaster that was the second grade talent show.
The whole auditorium quieted down and seemed to breathe as one.
I stamped the wooden stage, hard and loud. It echoed across the whole auditorium. After four bars of resting, I began.
The first few notes tested the air. Hesitant. I was clearing my throat, so to speak.
I put down the harmonica and spoke, my boot still thumping the stage.
*I guess plus being a wizard /*
*I'm a harmonica player too /*
*And if you care to take a dare /*
*I'll summon a devil for you*
Then I tore into the first bars of "Devil Went Down to Georgia." The crowd screamed and got to their feet. Some were stamping, Some were clapping. Some were rapidly making their way towards the brightly lit exits. The stage shook from all the noise and the lights overhead rattled. But I couldn't stop. I had to finish. The notes poured out of me like water.
The stage under my feet rumbled. What the hell was happening? I couldn't think about it. My lips were bruised, I couldn't get enough air, and my hands were slick with sweat.
*Play. Play.*
With my last breath, I forced the last run of notes out of the harmonica. For one shining moment, silence descended on the auditorium. I panted in the spotlight.
Then, with a groan, the stage collapsed.
I was later told the wizards fled the building. Not a one came to look for me, assuming I'd been dragged to the Planes of Unending Agony for my arrogance. I wasn't. Instead I woke up several hours later covered in dust and cobwebs and several pieces of lumber. It turns out wizards skip architecture, too--and study advanced circle drawing instead. | This all started because Mama taught me to use the magic words.
I thought it was just another one of those conventions. The kind where you dress up as your favourite characters--you know the type. I was just passing by. I'd never been to one before, and I just thought, *what the hell, why not?*
So, I asked the ticket guy for an entry. He was dressed in a hella fine robe probably made of silk or satin or whatever fancy thing you make robes out of. As soon as I walked up, he gave me the same kind of look my dad does whenever I visit. You know, the why-are-you-here look. Doesn't everyone's dad look at them like that?
...No?
Huh, I might have some re-evaluating to do...
Sorry, I digress.
Anyway, I'm feeling pretty out of place with my one-wash-two-wear t-shirt and my one-wash-I-don't-know-how-many-wears jeans, so first I asked him where he got those sweet threads. He just glared at me, so I figured the guy was probably getting paid peanuts and didn't want to answer stupid questions. Look, I've worked retail, I get it.
I asked him for entry, and he just kind of looked me up and down and then crossed his arms. And this is where I was starting to get annoyed, but then I remembered what my mama used to tell me--you catch more flies with honey.
...Which frankly, I never understood because every fly I've ever seen is attracted to shit, but when I pointed that out to Mama she smacked me upside the head and said, "which one of us is the adult here?" And well, she got me there.
Anyway, I realised how rude I was being so I rephrased my question with a "please" and "thank you" at the end, just like Mama taught me.
Lo and behold, the guy actually stepped aside and let me in! The best part was that he looked just as shocked as I was! It was almost like he'd never heard those words in his life before.
The inside was nothing like I expected. I was thinking there'd be some hoaky booths showcasing scantily-clad women. Instead, it was a giant colosseum! Complete with an open top and beautiful clear sky above. I'm still not entirely sure how they did that inside of a building. It's like magic or something.
Anyway, I guess they had a competition going on or something because as soon as I wandered into the amphitheatre they all kind of froze and stared at me. Every single seat was filled, and they were all focused on me. Do you know how nerve-wracking that is? I mean, I have trouble giving a speech to an audience of myself, let alone to hundreds of people!
Before I could muster up the courage to say anything, an old dude who looked like Gandalf (hey, I like nerd things--why else would I want to check out this convention?) stood up from his seat and just shouted, "Kill him!"
I did what any self respecting person would do in a moment like this. I tried not to piss myself and screamed, "Please don't kill me!"
And they didn't!
They all had that stupefied look on their faces--the same one as the ticket guy.
Gandalf asked, "What is this sorcery?"
I wasn't quite sure what he meant, so I just said, "Uh, I dunno, being polite?"
The idea amazed them. Seriously. The whole place exploded with gasps and whispers. It kind of sounded like air leaking out of tires, but magnified. I think they liked me though because the old guy asked me to show them what other talents I had.
I wasn't exactly prepared, so I just pulled out my harmonica. I always have it on me because Mama doesn't let me practice it in the house. I started to play a catchy little ditty. I wrote it myself, actually, so I figured they'd really enjoy it.
Well, long story short, they didn't. And now here I am, sitting in some kind of dungeon or whatever talking to you.
Anyway, the question I wanted to ask you was, can you *please* get me out of here?
\*\*\*\*\*
I forgot, I have a sub now! Come take a look at r/rulerofstorybears . Please and thank you! ;) | 2020-10-09T07:54:58 | 2020-10-09T07:54:38 | 1,801 | 198 |
[WP] You were among the first of the Gods, and upon making the first creatures there was an issue, they lived an eternal life and did not appreciate it nor desire more. So you gave them the greatest gift you could imagine. Death. | As I took my first breath, I opened my eyes. It felt like I had been sleeping for eons, despite my birth was mere seconds ago.
"Welcome, my son", I glanced up to the figure, His voice was so warm and calming. He was but a ball of light, a being made of thoughts and philosophy. I felt His being in me, as He was everything and nothing, He was the beginning and the end, He was everybody and nobody all at once.
"Father...", I whispered. Knowledge of All swirled around in my mind, it was dizzying. Faces of different beings, be it conscious or non-living...names, stamps of time rom the past, present, and future...all intertwined by silver threads connecting one another. It was the knowledge of the end of everything, all laid down in a long line of fate. I was horrified. Why have I been given such powerful knowledge?
Once again I glanced up to my Father, "Why have you made me be?"
"My son, you are my greatest creation. One which I'm giving to all that was and ever be, for those who find themselves living in my universe. There are those among my creations who cannot understand the value of their existence. I have given them the freedom of mind and freedom from ever dying, but I may have expected too much of them. I am not perfect, and I made sure that I am not, for I seek to be just and kind", said Father.
My feeling was in disarray. Such task was a burden to me and a curse for the other. Why such cruel fate be burdened to everything?
"Father...I, I am not sure why my role that is to be the villain, to be the one that takes those whom one might love? To be the one who one-sidedly take but never give? I will be an outcast to all, an outsider! I...I am not sure I want to fill such role...", I pleaded in great sadness.
Father did not have a face I could see...but I could feel His warmth of smile. Before my feet grow a beautiful flower, so delicate and so pristine.
"Tell me, my son. What do you see?"
"I see....a life, a very small and yet beautiful life"
"Yes, indeed. But what do you think makes it so beautiful?"
I was at a loss for words. I knew it was, but what could be the reason?
"Pick it up, my son"
And I did. Delicately I picked up the little flower, holding it gently between my two fingers. Slowly it withered away, its petals one by one fell to the ground and its stalk reduced to ashes. My heart ached of the lost little soul. How can Father made me do that?
"In your mind, if that soul would last forever would you find it as beautiful as you were before?"
My eyes were teary as I looked at Father. But...I think I understood why as I nodded...
"The fragility of its life was what made you see its beauty, its value. You have it in you to show my other creations, those who came before you and those who come after the fragility of their existence, thus the beauty of their life. You have it in you to bridge their belief of their mundane way to the extraordinary. My son...you are a gift"
Father's words resonated deeply within me, as I quickly understood why he made me be. My heart was set, my resolve was strengthened. This might be seen as a task to some, and a curse to another. But I saw it as a blessing and I would never think of it any other way.
I stood up and I contemplated, looking at my hands. With these hands I reap, with these hands I behold the beautiful souls, with these hands I hold the fragility of life. I am a gift, wholeheartedly and sincerely bestowed by my Father to all. I am Death. | The skeleton followed me through a candle-lit room past shelf after shelf of squat hourglasses. I turned to him and clapped my hands.
“Okay, so these are the life-timers,” I gestured towards one of the shelves. “They track the life-stream of every living thing on the planet.”
I grabbed a life-timer and held it out. “When the sand runs out, the living thing dies, you come to harvest their souls. Make sense?”
The skeleton stared at the life-timer, then at me.
“Okay, just one thing. Since you have no discernible features, it’s kinda hard to get a read on what you’re thinking. Could you maybe give a signal that you’re understanding me OK?”
It gave a bony thumbs up.
“Great. Follow me.”
I led the skeleton towards the middle of the room. “So, you get a twenty-minute break every fifteen thousand years, the job comes with full dental and a VERY generous pension plan, and we have an annual investor kick-off once a year at Destiny’s summerhouse. Those are always a hoot.”
I nudged the skeleton in the ribs and lowered my voice. “You don’t wanna miss that. There’s an open bar.”
In the center of the room, a wide bronze bowl stretched towards the ceiling. The skeleton followed me up a winding, rickety staircase wrapped around the outside. “Harvested souls go in here.”
I tapped the bowl twice; the sound echoed towards the edge of hearing. “Probably best to do one or two drop-offs a day to keep you from getting bogged down. At least at the start. Once you get the hang of things you can let the souls linger in purgatory a little longer.”
We came at last to the platform wrapped around the lid of the bowl. Inside glowing souls spiraled towards infinity. The skeleton peeked inside.
“Ok. That’s more-or-less it. Any questions?”
The skeleton turned its skull towards me, then shook it.
“Great, let’s go get your uniform then you can get started.”
…
The black-robed skeleton drifted into my office, then set its scythe in the corner. I motioned for it to have a seat behind the desk.
“Okay, so,” I sighed. “These are never easy. Thanks for coming in, first of all. I just wanted to touch base with you on one or two things. I’m sorry to have to do this so soon after you joined the organization but…”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’m going to have to give you a disciplinary.”
I opened the lowest desk of my drawer and pulled out a form. “See, in your first few centuries you’ve taken an…unusually high number of souls. When it comes to the scales of life, we really need more of a flow. A soft touch. Do you remember we covered this in orientation?”
The black-robed skeleton stared.
“I want you to know this isn’t personal--I'm just trying to get everybody singing from the same hymn sheet, y'know? But that sort of blue-sky thinking puts you on corporates radar. Don't get me wrong, up until the meteor killed all those dinosaurs you were doing a good job. Great, in fact. But messing with the life-stream of every living thing down on earth goes against company policy. I mean, In a way I'm happy to see you taking the initiative--”
I began filling out the form. “--but that kind of blue-sky thinking really needs to go through the proper channels first.”
The black-robed skeleton just stared.
“Ok, look,” I handed it the form. “This will stay on your record for the next two millennia, but I want you to know we’re still expecting big things from you. Normally this sort of behavior would result in termination, but we’d been talking about a fresh start on earth anyway. The big-wigs upstairs are scoping out a new project, so there'd be grumblings about cleaning house. Now, we want you on this project, but we just wanna make sure we’re not gonna see you going rogue again.”
I handed the form over to the black-robed skeleton. “Do you think you can handle this?”
The black-robed skeleton nodded. **I DO**
“Great. Then we’re done! I'll send you a meeting invite for the humanity onboarding.”
\----
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 | 2020-12-24T00:56:12 | 2020-12-24T00:53:26 | 71 | 25 |
[WP] Magic is mundane in your world. Not that you ever cared about it; you were an auto mechanic like your father. But you're not sure what to do after one of your best customers raises you from the dead because you're the only one he trusts with his antique cars. | "Goddamit.. Y'know that this isn't a great look for me." I held up a hand, my hand, and observed its taut, pale skin. Stretched tight over my skeleton. "I never wanted a part of this magic crap an' I didn't want to keep working forever y'know. Hell I retired well over a decade afore my death."
Aegwyth Frumpbottom looked at me, his mouth tipped downwards into a disappointed frown, "But y'know that the kids these days don't know how to work on a 2020 Ford Bronco. They don't know the secrets hidden in a twelve valve cummins. YOU do, and YOU can appreciate them." Aegwyth sighs and looks around his shop, illuminated by floating candles (I always thought they were tacky, but he never got around to installing fluorescents for me) and then turned back, imploring, "Please Jim, just stick around a bit longer. The spell doesn't take well if you aren't for it."
I kept examining my hand, pinching the skin and noting the particular lack of sensation. "Hard to work on anything when I can't FEEL anything, pal." I emphasized my point by pinching my cheek and stretching it out. "Hell, I don't think undead can even HAVE a beer. What's your plan here? My wife and pop are waiting for me on the other side you know. They'll be concerned. You know Sarah, she gets mighty worried when I'm about." Aegwyth squirmed, he's had a few run-ins with my wife.
&#x200B;
"Actually, I already had a séance with her. She said you're cooped up, and gave her permission for you to.. vacation.. for a while. She said there wasn't much for you to do up there." Frumpbottom said in an embarassed tone, "I thought you liked the cars? With everything switching over to elemental engines the last decade.."
&#x200B;
He wasn't wrong, on either point. The plane that my wife and pop went to wasn't filled with the wonders of historic mechanical engineering, it was well enough, but the intangible world was a hell of a thing. And few people I've met had as good a collection as Frumpbottom. If Sarah gave the go-ahead.. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to stick around for a bit.
"Alright Aegwyth, I suppose I did say I would never let you down."
He smiled.
"And that's why I'm never gonna give you up." | "Antique cars require antique men," Billy Simpson boomed.
The sound shook me and I had to brush away the mud on my shoulders to not let the old bastard on the fact that he had succeeded in startling me.
"That's not quite right," I said. "Antique cars require a lot of things, but not antique men."
"But that's it. That's it. You know exactly what the antique cars need!"
"I think you don't understand me. I am an antique man. I do not wish to fix any more cars, thank you very much."
Old Billy scratched the shiny bald patch on his enormous head. "But...you must."
"Why? Even as a ghoul I am a free man."
"Free you may be, but what else will you do? What else have you ever done?"
Since the moment I had been revived I knew that such a thing would happen. Old Billy always was good with silly arguments. No matter how accurate.
"I will do something new. Maybe I'll paint."
The old coot laughed. "You'll paint?" He laughed again. "You're a ghoul. Your brain isn't plastic."
The bastard got me again. Old Billy always was a frustrating man, no wonder he tore his own hair out, or maybe his wife did.
"I don't care. I'll do anything except this repair job on your old beetle."
"You're a strange man...I mean ghoul. Why do you have to be like this? Wasn't I good to you? We were pals, remember?"
"Yeah? Well that was before I died."
"It's only a minor complication. I know plenty of people who've befriended ghouls."
"What if I eat you?"
"It would be a pleasure."
Pleasure? Old Billy is a hard man to pin down in an argument, but I can't eat him. He ain't lying. We were pals. He did treat me very well.
"I just can't. All these years of repairing cars, you realize if I end up being one of the undead ones, I could be doing this forever."
"Oh come on. Being one of the undead ghouls is like a one in a million thing."
"Bad enough to make this illegal!"
"No law can hold me from my dear friend."
"Dear friend? You just couldn't find a mechanic is all."
"Yeah, well what if I couldn't? Is it wrong for me to enjoy the rest of my life? Do I not deserve that?"
Old Billy up to his old tricks. Emotional pleas. It's true what they say, you know, about being cold-hearted. A cold heart really don't feel nothing. No emotions, just a sea of unrelenting calm.
"Are you happy? Nowadays?"
Old Billy flinched. "Yes, of course. Now that I see you moving from past the grave and all."
"Good," I said and pinned him down. "Now, Billy boy. You can die happy. Happy till the last. Aren't you delighted to be my first meal?"
The Old bastard's fleshy face jerked from left to right.
"But you said so yourself, it would be a pleasure. I hope it is."
Sometimes, you need to give your friends what they need, not what they want. That's life.
Life after death. | 2021-03-26T09:23:15 | 2021-03-26T08:25:19 | 40 | 28 |
[WP] Your kingdom lies in ruins and the demons are at the gate. You hold the sacred relic that has been passed down for countless generations to your lips and speak a prayer in a long forgotten language: "Orbital Strike on my location" | "_Instruction not followed. Instruction requires command authorization and safety protocol override. Please consult documentation for more information._"
The response from the Relic took me by surprise. I had never heard it speak before, and though the words were said in the common tongue, their meaning eluded me. As the shouts from the last defenders at the curtain wall washed over me, I cast about anxiously for some clue.
"Documentation," it had said. Wasn't that another word for writing? My mind settled upon the Sacred Text of Av'tar. It was rumored to be connected to the Relic in some way. I hurried to the Shrine of the Ancients and quickly located the Text, in its reliquary. With no time to open the container properly, I drew my sword and used the blade to lever open the lid. The air inside rushed out, bringing with it the smell of dust and rain. It was not how I expected five thousand year-old air to smell.
Tossing such thoughts aside, I retrieved the Text. The cover was made of some strange metal; pliable as fresh beech bark, but smooth as a polished mirror. The words emblazoned on the cover were written in a hand alien to my modern eyes and worn by the centuries of use before its consignment to the Shrine, but the shapes of letters were partially recognizable, even as the words they spelled assaulted my mind with confusion.
>AV'TAR
>Opcroticn INanu;l
I quickly opened the tome and began reading. The writing inside was of the same hand, but far less worn and easier to read, if no less difficult to understand. Words I had never heard or seen written before flowed past my eyes, a number punctuating each line. The numbers seemed to increase, but not by any pattern I could discern.
Halfway through the second page, a line caught my eye.
>Command Authorization Procedure - 87.
I stared for a moment. Was this the answer I sought? Even here in the shrine, the roars of the demons, the cries of the defenders and, most disturbingly, the screams of the fallen penetrated, edging me on to move faster, before all was lost.
Eventually, I noticed a number at the bottom of the page. 2. I flipped back and checked the same spot to find a 1. Excited, I flipped forward and checked the next page. 3. Did these numbers indicate the order of the pages? It seemed silly, as the tome was bound and the leafs could not be taken out of order without destroying it. But the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. I flipped several pages forward, and was rewarded with a dense block of text and what appeared to be a drawing of the relic. I was right. The first few pages were a list of topics, with the page on which each topic could be found listed. I quickly thumbed forward to the page with an 87 at the bottom.
I read quickly but carefully. It instructed me to place my thumb upon one of the jewels and state my name and "rank" (which I took to mean my titles) slowly and clearly, followed by the words "initiate command authorization."
I clasped the Relic to my chest, thumb pressed to the flat, black jewel and spoke. "I am Tradis of House Ellemere, Second of his Name, King of the Neuflorian people and Lord Commander of the Clonal Marns. Initiate command authorization."
"_Command authorization accepted._"
The voice from the relic was strangely calm, almost inhuman. I intoned the sacred prayer of last resort again. "Orbital strike on my location."
"_Instruction not followed. Instruction requires safety protocol overrides. Strategic assistance systems advise deployment of Automated Quick Reaction Force. Analysis: Automated Quick Reaction Force is currently at 57% strength, with all casualties attributed to maintenance failures. Strategic assessment of military engagements at command site indicates 25% of Automated Quick Reaction Force would be sufficient to repel enemy forces, and 40% of Automated Quick Reaction Force would be sufficient to destroy remaining enemy positions within one thousand kilometers of command site. Would you like to deploy the Automated Quick Reaction Force?_"
^(Continued in comments) | It was silent aboard the orbital watch post, though signs of frenzied activity could be seen. A half-full meal tray still steamed next to a hastily thrown down book. Coffee from an oversized mug had spilled all over two sets of discarded work coveralls. A foreboding black locker stood with doors thrown wide, its open padlocks buried on the floor beneath piles of empty plastic wrappers bearing legends like, "Tau Ceti Armory," and, "DANGER: Explosive." Over the whole scene an insistent red message pulsed silently from a wide holo-screen.
"Kinetic Strike Override," it read, followed by two command codes and the ID of a military communicator.
The scene had been unchanged for hours before a deep thud and a hiss sounded from the main docking couple. Then with a metallic rasp the inner hatch slid open, and two figures stumbled through. They were clad in fatigues studded with the telltale armor plates of shield rigs. The uniforms were brand new, but nonetheless entirely ruined by dents, burn marks, and blood stains. The weapons they shoved into racks in the locker were marked likewise, fresh paint worn away from contact surfaces and brand new barrels already scarred from heat bloom. The smells of ozone and cordite followed the pair and filled the room. One of the figures trudged over to the main console and typed out a long command. Without a sound the insistent red warning on the holo-screen winked away to be replaced with its usual banal system readouts. The other figure simply slumped to the deck, fumbling with the catches on their helmet before giving it a half-hearted toss toward the opposite wall.
Both of them just sat there for a moment, breathing heavily. Then the figure at the console removed their own helmet, took a deep breath, and exclaimed in a ragged voice:
"Ho. Lee. Shit!" He leaned back, jamming the heels of his hands against his screwed-shut eyes. "I mean, holy SHIT! That was WAY too close!"
The other could only nod, running a gloved hand through long blonde hair caked with sweat and grime.
"I mean how the hell did we miss all of that? How did we miss ANY of that?! We've been scoping this rock for almost two years, how did this sneak up on us?!"
The other one shook her head. "It didn't," she said, her words slurred by fatigue.
"The hell you mean, 'It didn't'? I don't remember seeing scout mechs or GEVs buzzing around down there before today."
The woman scowled. "We've been watching Nation A roll up territory like nobody's business. We just didn't put together why. We got lucky at the end, their off-world friends got greedy, played their heavy hitters out in the open."
"Yeah," the man cried as he stood, "and Nation C had a damn Federation astrocom! If I hadn't dragged your ass out of the rack we'd be orbiting a smoking crater right now!"
The woman scowled. "Yeah, we would. And if *I* hadn't been tweaking my holo-cosplay when you did, we could look forward to about a hundred counts of violation of the Primitive Worlds Treaty at our freaking court martial." She gave her discarded helmet a lazy kick in his direction. As it spun to a stop it transformed from modern composites to shimmering steel, intricate carvings on the faceplate highlighted by the golden light from a flaming halo.
The man sank back into his chair, burying his face in his hands again. "You're right, sorry. You're sure none of the locals caught wise?"
She snorted. "How would they, they're iron-agers. We're outside their context. Though I think I saw your wings clip through a wall when you went after that tank. Wait, shit, you got the com off the king, right?"
Sitting a bit straighter the man reached to his belt and unclipped a rectangular object a little bigger than his hand. "Right here." Though the locals had covered it in gold and jewels like a holy relic, the buttons and speaker grille of the com unit were still visible in all of their factory-made black plastic glory. They both breathed a sigh of relief. How and why the thing got into the hands of the priesthood of a medieval world they didn't know, but right now it was enough not to have to worry about it being used.
The woman stood and stretched, her back popping audibly. "Well, I for one am going to go take a shower, and then I'm cracking open the booze rations. I think delivering divine retribution and preserving our asses is worth celebrating."
Suddenly there was a beep from the main console, and an alert flashed up on the holo-screen. "Incoming hail: Sector Command."
The man grimaced as he turned to the keyboard. "Day's not over." | 2021-11-08T09:26:22 | 2021-11-08T09:25:42 | 65 | 40 |
[WP] Being a faceless goon is a cushy job. Evil lairs, hostages, death rays, but the heroes always escape and save the day, so no harm, no foul, right? But today, the heroes aren’t escaping, and they still aren’t escaping, and… it’s beginning to dawn on you that your boss might actually succeed. | It’s the second week Colin Covington—or 237 while wearing this uncomfortably black costume and/or within Mister Menacing’s compound—had to bring food for the heroes.
Colin’s never done it for more than three days before he found himself flat on his back, hoping that his insurance was still properly covering what felt like a ripped apart spine before medical confirmation that really, it was just a bruise, and yes, he’ll be OK, stop being so dramatic.
Besides the inordinate schedule, what really worried him was the… lifelessness of the Union’s heroes. Colin’s not used to seeing them with no fire in their eyes, lifeless cameras simply taking in information. They were mostly still as statues—it was a wonder no moss grew on them—and only moved when they absolutely had to. Even then, they moved like people who had just woken up in the morning, motivated only to turn off their alarm clocks.
And the alarm in Colin’s head continued to ring and scream, unable to switch itself off.
“Hey,” Colin said. Yet again, there was no response—not even the tilting of heads, the fires of defiance in a chin tilt, or blazing in their eyes. Just the shuffle of a zombie, waiting—wishing—for death itself.
“Do you guys want to eat? The food today isn’t bad. We had the same thing at the cafeteria today.”
Colin might as well have been talking to a wall. At least, a piece of paint might flake off, which counts as feedback of some kind.
The henchman closed the door behind him. He couldn’t quite bear to look. And one thought kept running in his head, a humongous hamster stuck running in a spinning wheel.
*Did Mister Menacing actually succeed?*
He looked through the plexiglass wall again. He knew, for certain, that it wasn’t that hard to break. Heck, a determined but otherwise normal human being could probably go through it at the expense of a sore shoulder. But these were a bunch of the city’s strongest heroes held behind it, a horde of elephants being held by a single string of yarn.
“What did he do to you?”
He said, quietly. Like always, he wasn’t expecting a response. But Colin watched as the hero nearest to the wall—the Magma Maiden—turned towards him, hollow eyes and all.
“He found out who we were,” she whispered. “He took our families. Our friends.”
The chains weren’t in the cell, but there were chains nonetheless.
“Mister Menacing… is actually competent?” Colin said.
Colin thought that there were the beginnings of a bitter smile on her face, but it swiftly crumpled back into her cheeks.
“More than we thought,” she shook her head. “Good job. You won. You must be proud.”
And she clammed up once more.
Those words hit Colin hard. He was part of Mister Menacing’s side, no? He should be proud! He did it! No more hospitalizations, no more visits from concerned families, and potentially a celebration party with fine food and wine, all paid for from Menacing’s coffers!
But he couldn’t bear to see the heroes like these. They were good people. Better people than him, at least.
237 found himself pacing the compound, going in and out of elevators. Nobody cared about where he went, or where he was. There were benefits to being a henchman. Later rather than sooner, breathless at the surprising size of the compound he’s never quite fully bothered to explore, he found the records room. If there was any chance of knowing where the Union’s family members were, it was here.
*This would definitely ruin my employee benefits.*
But sometimes, being a hero was for somebody else’s benefit. It was a concept distinctly contrary to most of Colin Covington’s life—but somebody had to do it.
Colin inhaled deeply, and opened the door.
---
r/dexdrafts | "This time they'll see! They'll all see."
Cackling echoed through the cave system, along with the distant sound of the ocean and the night creatures that dwelled with the villain and his goons. Thanks to the Boss's technology those creatures kept their distance and they were able to live hidden from insects, the police and the horror that was home renting.
Of course, instead of enjoying the other amenities, such as the nice view of the ocean or amount of storage space the caves offered, the Boss was instead locked away creating their new invention to finally get his revenge. A revenge that would one day eliminate those who created and intentionally tried to permanently get rid of many of the people living in the Boss's lair. Maybe that's why they still followed him, even after failure after failure. He was there when their own leaders turned their back on them.
The fact that nothing ever really worked out in the Boss's favor also helped. Made life easier, you know? Add in the agoraphobia their Boss was crippled with and working for a shut-in of a villain just didn't seem that bad - or so this particular goon thought as he endlessly continued to scroll through his phone instead of watching the cameras.
"I believe in you, Boss," he called out without losing eye contact with his phone screen. After working for so long next to the big man himself, he's pretty confident about what and when to throw in a little something to make sure he looked like he was paying attention.
"Thanks, Bobby!" The boss shouted over the sounds of whatever concoction he was making. His voice was robotic thanks to the speaker he spoke through but in the distance Bobby could still hear
his laughter. A broken and very unstable laugh that almost distracted him from the cat video he just scrolled past.
"...no problem, Bos-" he started to repeat robotically when he felt something wrap around his neck. Bobby felt his body tense up with the instinct he gained during his time in the military and his hands started to reach behind until he felt something cold against his temple.
"Don't move." The phone hit the ground. Bobby was sure he heard the screen crack. "If you do, you're dead, bud."
"You know since we're buddies and all, this is where I stop you from wasting your time, nothing's going on here, **bud**."
He could feel the scoff without looking at the intruder. How the hell did he not pop up on the cameras? Of course, it might've helped if he had actually been looking at them but this was just ridiculous. They were ruining everythi-
Bobby was slammed to the ground at the same time a gun popped off. The only sound for a moment was the ringing of his ears until he started hearing the yelling and even more gun shots.
"I'll blow his fucking head off-"
A gunshot and the distinct sound of a gun falling to the ground. Bobby immediately tried to gather himself but he felt the pain when the arm around his neck tightened.
"Oh fuck, there's still one-" A gag and coughing fit followed as the arm tightened to the point where talking and then breathing became impossible.
"Shut the **fuck**-"
Bobby was going to go deaf after today, he cried, possibly out loud. With a groan he pushed himself up once the ringing began to subside again and he felt the arm around his neck fall off. His vision also began to come back in time to see a figure walking past him and towards the hallway where more gunshots and shouting was heard.
All Bobby could do was stare at his Boss's silhouette. He had never seen him in person, only through a screen where he was usually always hidden in darkness. He was pale skinned and tall, taller than even Bobby and they considered him the biggest goon in the squad. He was so skinny though, almost all bones, but in his hands he lifted a large machine that was half his size with both of their arms. A machine like the others that usually only makes it through the testing phase before someone breaks it or loses it. After all, the Boss was never supposed to come out.
"Everyone look," the Boss chanted, almost yelled if it wasn't for his hoarse voice breaking from all the laughing. And then he pressed the trigger and despite seeing the trembling of the Boss's hands , Bobby knew it was the end. The end of the easy life they had started with a man too scared to carry out his own mission. The end of any person standing in the hallway. The end of many more to come. "Look at me! Look at meeeee!"
The world's luck had finally run out. | 2021-12-07T01:04:46 | 2021-12-06T23:09:32 | 388 | 66 |
[WP] A lighthouse keeper begins to suspect the lighthouse is up to something besides warning boats of the rocky shores. | **A Recountance of the Lancaster Lighthouse**
**November 23, 1821**
*It is on this day, this very day, with the waves of winter beginning to swell and my breath beginning to show in the air, that I must begin my recountance of the happenings of the Lancaster Lighthouse.*
*Fear. That is the motivation for these small entries. First, fear that others will not believe the tales I tell here, that others will not believe the things I have seen. Second, fear that I will not believe myself, that my mind will turn against my memories, doubting their veracity, rationalizing them away as nothing but my own lonely terrors taking on a life of their own.*
*That is all for now, this beginning, a commitment to describing the strange things afoot at Lancaster Lighthouse. I am so very tired.*
**November 30, 1821**
*At last, there was yet another happening on this day. Such a strange week, strange in its lack of strangeness, that is. I’d almost begun to believe that perhaps my commitment to this journal had dispelled my fears, that they had been my terrible imagination after all.*
*Not so.*
*I was performing my nightly duties, changing the lamp atop the tower, cleaning the magnification lens, ensuring the position of the mirrors, when I saw it. There, in the reflection, on the black waters far away, was a spot of light. So small I could barely make it out, but it was there.*
*Turning to observe the ship in reality, I could not find it. Turning back to the mirror it was gone as well. It had been there, it was no trick of light, it had been there.*
**December 19, 1821**
*At last, a true happening to recount.*
*These weeks have continued to have more small events like the one above, and with my growing responsibilities in the increasingly frigid winter air, I have not been able to report them here.*
*Today’s event, though, must be written down.*
*~~First, I must, to my great chagrin, make a grave admittance. I allowed the light to be extinguished. Indeed, my one responsibility as the keeper of the lighthouse is to allow the light in the house to persist.~~*
*~~Perhaps it was a godsend, though, for my negligence allowed me to make today’s chilling discovery.~~*
*The lamp of the house was extinguished, though upon reflection I do not believe it to be a fault of my own. The lamp was new and still had a full basin of oil. However improbably, I suspect the unexplainable things around me played a hand.*
*Just before relighting the lamp, far in the distance, were more spots of light far out on the water, this time seen with eyes my own, not reflected in the mirror.*
*I was unable to stop myself from reigniting the lamp, however, and as soon as I did so the spots of lights vanished entirely.*
**December 25, 1821**
*Today is not about joy, is not about family, today is nothing like celebrating the birth of our savior should be.*
*Rather, it is about making a grave decision. More and more often they appear now, the spots of light. Out of the corner of my eye, when I peer through the lenses at specific angles, again when I adjust the mirror, I see them more often, I see more of them, and they’re getting closer, day by day by day.*
*What am I to do? I cannot reliably see them; it always by accident. If I forsake my duty to keep the light lit, putting it out by my own hand, perhaps I’ll be able to see them again. But is it worth the risk? That would a transgression of duty punishable by nothing less than death.*
*This is the decision I must make.*
**January 2, 1822**
*~~It~~ They are here. Now. I ^am trapped.*
*I did it. I put it out. After another tormenting week of the lights all around me, I did it.*
*Immediately upon extinguishing the fire, the intensity of the frigid air increased tenfold, shocking me, nearly freezing me. In another instant, the glass around the room began to crack. In the next, it all shattered at once, allowing the insane, icy winds into the room.*
*And they were there, beyond the broken window. Close enough for me to make out now.*
*The lights are ships. Not ships of this plane, I know no other way to say it. Not ships of man, not ships of this earth.*
*Unable to relight the lamp, I ran back to this room. The storm rages outside, and there is no light to warn the ships away, those from this earth or another plane.*
___
r/stealthystorkstories | This goddamn piece of shit isn’t worth a goddamn thing, he muttered to himself. Frederik was all too aware that he was too old for this shit and should have left years – hell, decades – ago to a nice little house inland. He could’ve joined a club, met a younger lady at a yoga class, and spent his remaining years rutting like a pig in heat. But instead, here he was at the top of the 4th tallest lighthouse in Norway – his lighthouse these last three decades – freezing his ass off and contorted in a lighthouse keeper’s yoga pose: down on his hands and knees, bent under a 1920’s control panel while trying to fix a fuse that had managed to outlast the company that manufactured it.
Ouch! He banged his head on the sharp unforgiving metal of the control panel as he lifted himself up. He fell back into the fabric rolling chair and massaged the side of his head with his eyes closed.
When he opened his eyes he was looking at a complete, unobstructed view of the ocean. The waves were calm today, and the clouds had weakened enough that beams of sunlight shone down like great spotlights on the surface. This sight is what kept him here all these years, now as much a part of him as anything could be. He knew that a house inland and a different life were just momentary fantasies. Even heading into town to fetch groceries felt like an eternity away from the ocean, and that the one vacation – if you could call it that – three days away to Oslo for his father’s funeral sixteen years prior – had left him a nervous wreck with a tremor in his hands that disappeared as if by magic upon his return. He would die here in this lighthouse and he knew it.
On this particular day Frederick had woken earlier than usual to get a head start on troubleshooting the light. It was moving fine on its rotating spindle, but the light itself was on the fritz. He first noticed it a week prior when he was reading in his quarters below the light. He had suddenly become aware that the gentle hum that he had grown as accustomed to as his own breath was absent. Instead all he heard was the rotating disk, which emitted a whir that rose and fell in a reliable cycle. He parted the curtains to his right and his heartbeat quickened as he realized he was looking into something no lighthouse keeper wanted to see at night – pitch blackness.
Fuck, he said to himself as I lifted up into a standing position and slid on his slippers. He started toward the circular staircase and just as he was about to start the climb he heard the gentle hum start and he could see the brightness of the spotlight through the door above. He returned to his reading.
This thing has a mind of its own some days doesn’t it, he said aloud to himself. Living alone for so, he had taken to speaking to himself to keep company.
For the next week he didn’t notice anything else out of the ordinary. But then last night he awoke in complete silence and realized both the light and the spindle had stopped. He rummaged in the dark for his flashlight and while getting his house coat on, the system started up again and he could hear the gentle hum of the light and the periodic whir of the spindle.
Well now you’re just fucking with me, he cursed at the lighthouse. Middle of the night, freezing my ass off, and can’t even let me have a good night’s sleep!
The next morning, as he sat rubbing his sore head and wondering how he was possibly going to fix the irreplaceable fuse, he heard the unmistakable sound of tires on gravel and he spun his chair to see who was coming up the driveway. To his surprise, it was a police car.
The officer was just getting out of the vehicle when Frederik came out to meet him.
Hello officer, said Frederick.
Inspector. Inspector Lindvig. Hello. You are Frederik Klepp, the lighthouse keeper?
Yes, I am. How can I help you?
Were you here last night?
Yes. Every night. Every day too. For decades, he said with a smile.
It seems something has happened. Some… things. At sea. First, a week ago a ship not far up the coast ran aground. Around 9pm. Captain says the lighthouse was off. Then last night, around 3am, other direction, another ship ran aground. One man overboard and not yet recovered. Captain and first mate swear the lighthouse was off. Seems like a coincidence, no? Two different ships, two different days, same stories. All pointing to this lighthouse not meeting its purpose.
Well, there’s been problems with it. I think a fuse is shorting. But there’s no replacement available. Manufacturer shut down years ago.
Well, that may be so but we’ve spoken to your superiors and they are going to send someone down here.
Down here? But this is my lighthouse. What do you mean send someone?
I need you to come with me. The company will send someone, don’t worry.
Come with you? Why? I didn’t do anything wrong!
It’s procedure. Please, I need you to come with me.
Frederik got into the back seat of the car. Inspector Lindvig turned the car around and started down the long driveway. Frederik turned in his seat to look through the back window at the lighthouse for a second – just a moment – it appeared to flicker at him, like a wink. | 2022-02-21T11:01:03 | 2022-02-21T09:28:51 | 36 | 10 |
[WP] When humans achieve interstellar space flight we discover that we live smack dab in the midst of several massive squabbling ancient alien empires. So we do the only sensible thing we could, and become space Switzerland. | There’s something many people forget about expanding an empire. Something the Romans had to deal with. The Chinese. The Mongols…you get the idea.
As you get bigger, you have to more border to defend. As bad as it is on land, it is even worse in space. An ever enlarging sphere of empty space to defend.
Luckily for us, humanity didn’t need much space.
We’d gotten used to living on ships and orbitals. We’d had to, given what we’d done to our planet.
So when we found out that nearby systems were already claimed and occupied, we began diplomatic missions instead of colonizing ones.
And when the first of our new neighbors decided to see if our systems were worth colonizing, they ran into a nasty surprise.
You see, we might not have been as advanced, and we might not have a sprawling empire of trillions, but we did have a lot of ships.
In a relatively small area.
We lost a lot in the first attack. Outgunned one on one, we simply couldn’t stand and fight.
Once they entered the edges of our system, though, things changed. The fleet they saw was simply decades behind, technologically. It also outnumbered them seven to one.
The fleet they didn’t see, which had hid in the shadows of Pluto, made the numbers almost twenty to one.
The men and women lost that day made it a Pyrrhic victory. The technology we gained, though, made the Sol system impenetrable.
Four times since then we’ve faced invasions. Each time it was easier and easier to fend them off, and each time we learned. Developed. Gained new technology and insights into the galaxy and the systems around us.
If any had brought the full force of their military against us, we wouldn’t have stood a chance. But they would have to strip their own borders - some further from us then we can travel in a lifetime - leaving themselves open to attack.
So instead, we became the tough little nut in the middle of great empires. Their border wars ended at the edges of our system. Traders and diplomats were welcomed, while ships armed with anything more then a light asteroid smasher was turned away…or swarmed down and dismantled for parts.
It wasn’t long before many of them saw the use of having a neutral party in the middle. Diplomats were safe to meet and work out ceasefires (no war between the great empires would ever truly end, despite our attempts). Trade goods made near the heart of the galaxy, could find their way across our sphere, leaving to begin a journey that could take them to the rim of space (rumors reach us that they could go beyond, even).
All minus our cut, of course.
Our people became sacrosanct. We could travel in our great cruisers, touring the galaxy and seeing wonders that were banned to any other outsiders. Who would tell us no? When the risk was to lose access to the great neutral zone, the free trading spaces and diplomatic zones? The one place where art, culture, and technology could be exchanged?
Easier to let the humans roam in their ships. We didn’t colonize (why bother, when our ships could hold hundreds of millions in comfort), but rather…toured. Saw new systems and their wonders.
In time, there were branches of humanity who had gone so far away that they had never seen the light of Sol. Perhaps they will turn around at the edges of the empires they travel through, or perhaps they will continue on, braving the new borders we have only heard of.
Perhaps they will find new systems, unclaimed in the depths, and settle them. Make them another small hub - well defended, and neutral in other conflicts - another launching point for the great explorers of humanity to travel out from. | "Jones! What the hell is this place even? Looks like a wagon wheel from ancient times or something. What's with the spokes?"
"Smith, it's uh . . . nice to see you too. Did you not watch the briefing? This was all explained in the vid. . ."
"I stand around and make sure nothing crazy goes down. I know about all the species, I'm ready to throw down always. What more is there?"
"They really send the best over to the DiploCorps these days, don't they? I should've figured your name would get the draw sooner or later."
"They've tried to put me out to pasture before, Jones, I know the routine. Too bad for them it never sticks. I've made it all the way out to the PEZ ("Plutonian Exclusion Zone"). Where are they gonna send me after this?"
"Don't ask questions that you don't already know the answer to. The universe is bigger than us, Smith."
"You diplos and your talk of endless stars. We put up the no-go zone and stay out of all of that for whatever reason you lot won't tell us exactly. I'm not judgin. The trade's not bad. Even I can get all the Bluuz I want, and on little more than the Dole. Business is good, eh?"
"We're diplomats. You'll have time to tour Customs, that's where the Trade Guilds and their warehouse outlets are. It's customary for station staff to visit, there will surely be a shuttle you can catch, but that isn't why you or any of us are here, is it, Smith?"
"They give you one of those fancy titles yet?"
"Assistant Ambassador, Third Class."
"Out of how many classes again?"
"Enough above me that I have the pleasure of welcoming you and yours while more important diplomatic business is being conducted without me, but well above you. Oh, you made corporal again. How nice."
"Eh, fuck off. You know I'm not the best trooper or else I'd have one of the plush jobs in the fancy new cruisers with the mech suits. You seen the Mark Vs? Beautiful things. Though this line will always have its purposes."
"You should have watched the vidlog this time, Smith, it was important."
"Whaddya mean?"
"Diplosec is likely your last assignment. Your lot don't last too long around here. Did you notice we didn't send anyone out when you came in?"
"The hell do you mean? We aren't at war. No one dies in war. We don't fight. We just threaten and everyone stays out of our little corner of the universe. We're permanently neutral. I like history, I've read about that before. That's how it works right? We got the superweapon, so we're good, otherwise we stay out of it."
"It's slightly more complicated than that."
"Stop messing with me and give it to me straight."
"The aliens don't understand the meaning of neutrality or pacifism or isolation."
"That's not straight."
"We have to constantly accept their diplomatic overtures or else they will view us with hostility and attack us directly. If they think we have declined them, they will attack us. If we accept, their millennia-old rivals will attack us. We're the only place in the universe these species exist where they are unarmed and that's only because of a fluke in Interstellar law that you wouldn't begin to understand. We have to keep this charade up non-stop. It's a diplo's dream, or nightmare."
"It doesn't sound all that bad."
"Have you seen a Tlaxlan and an Atropodian go literally head-to-head? The cynics call us the Interstellar Boxing Ring. They aren't far off sometimes."
"Shit. You assholes expect us to stop something like that with these shitty little cattle prods?"
"It took ten years for us to negotiate to get you those, another fifty for the armor. Our first muscle did it with their bare hands, since you care about history. Where the spokes don't keep them apart, you do. Perfect for a scrapper like you. I'm interested in seeing how long you last."
/r/courageisnowhere
Edits: Minor edits to clarify a few things. And I did change the ending slightly too. | 2022-03-06T21:33:17 | 2022-03-06T18:32:30 | 1,166 | 217 |
[WP] People turn into anthropomorphic animals on their 18th birthday, and what they become usually depends on their personality. Lion people are typically brave, fox people are typically cunning, etc. However, you remained Human, and you aren't quite sure what that means. | The doctor leafed through her printouts, tasting the air with her forked tongue. Adam and his parents sat in tense silence. Well, his parents were tense—Adam's own feelings were somewhere in the realm of curiosity.
"Well, the good newsss is that all of his blood tests are normal," said the doctor. "Almossst perfectly so."
"Oh, thank god," father said, patting Adam's shoulder with a bear-like hand.
His mother clasped her talons together. "But then why hasn't he had his Change?"
Adam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Listening to her, one might think he was *dying*.
"That's the question, isn't it?" The doctor picked up a pen and a notepad. "I would like to asssk you some questions, Adam. If you're uncomfortable, I can ask your parents to leave."
He shrugged. "They can stay."
The doctor tapped her pen against the notepad. "Would you say you're happy? Content?"
"Sure. I have a good life."
"Hmm." She scribbled something down and smiled at his puzzled expression. "Don't worry, there are no right or wrong answers."
"I wasn't," he assured.
"Very good. And how do you feel about not getting your Change?"
"I'd be interested to know what makes me different," he said slowly. "But it's not the end of the world."
Mother sniffled. "He's so brave."
Adam *did* roll his eyes now.
The doctor winked. "How are you doing at school?"
He tilted his hand side to side. "Eh."
"Any foods you strongly dislike?"
He blinked. "Well... I'm not a fan of bell peppers."
"But you always eat them when I make fajita," mother exclaimed.
"I don't hate them *that* much."
The doctor scribbled some more. "Favorite sports?"
"Don't care about them enough to have one, to be honest." Adam glanced up at his father. "Sorry, dad. I do enjoy watching football with you."
"It's all right," father said, chuckling. "I could tell you weren't really into it."
"Favorite color?" the doctor asked.
"Uh... I like blue. And grey. Brown's not too bad either..."
"He's not picky," mother said in a theatrical whisper.
"I'm beginning to see a pattern," the doctor said excitedly. "Tell me, how do you feel about the leading presidential candidate?"
"She's kind of a jerk."
The doctor's brow furrowed. "That's a little unexpected." She tapped her pen against her lips. "What about her competitor?"
"He blathers a lot without saying anything."
The doctor leaned forward excitedly. "So if you had to vote today..."
"Er..." Adam scratched his head. "You know, I'd have to think about it."
"Please, doctor," mother interjected, "what do these questions have to do with anything?"
"Just tell us what's wrong with our son," father seconded.
"Oh, nothing is wrong with him as such," the doctor said, smiling. "Adam is just neutral." | I awoke on my eighteenth birthday full of expectation. On my father’s zooday he grew massive ebony horns that scraped the plaster from the kitchen ceiling. His nails turned shiny black, his nose snoutish. I always considered him bullheaded, and he embodied the bull from head to toe. My mother took on the traits of a mother swan, her skin sprouted puffy white feathers, her nose acquired a beakish profile on her zooday.
None of this mattered to me, for I had only known my parents as the bull and the swan, masculine power curtailed by motherly grace.
As I stared in the mirror, I wondered why I had not changed. Why had I remained in the embryonic human form? I felt unevolved, in a state of arrested development.
Mom and dad made little comment on my birthday, aside from an initial confused stare. I ate breakfast as usual. My brother texted me on my phone, asking if anything was “new”. Of course I knew he meant my zooday transformation, or lack thereof. I took a selfie and pressed *send*. It took a while to receive a response, so in the meantime I ate my oatmeal sprinkled with raisins and blueberries.
“No honey today?” asked my dad. “You always put honey in your oatmeal.”
I shook my head and dropped my face. Why was I still hominid, and why was Anderson not responding—
*Ding!*
My brother had responded, “😎👍”
What I did not realize at that moment, was that I was the only eighteen year old pure human being on the planet. The problem with being a hybrid these days was that it shortened your lifespan by at least two decades. After the great Genetic Mistake, the DNA of mankind had never been the same. Damaged beyond repair.
But something about me, about my personality retained the old human genome, the code that would quite possibly allow me to live with comparative immortality.
Word spread fast, and the next day a guy in sunglasses and a black suit showed up at my house asking questions.
At my kitchen table I tapped my foot rapidly, trying to suppress the sweat beading on my forehead.
“Your evaluations all show that you are average in every way. Slightly above average intelligence, but brains are a dime a dozen. What do *you* think? Why do you believe you didn’t change?” asked the man through impenetrable black lenses.
“I... have no idea whatsoever. I was hoping you might know.”
“There is no paradigm to explain this, unfortunately,” he said.
He looked like a vulture, with a sharp black nose and night black feathers. That’s why I sort of didn’t trust him at first. Now I totally didn’t trust him.
“So what do you want from me?” I asked.
“The secret of your genes. The secret of *you*. I have to go, but I believe I understand a bit better the secret of you.”
“Tell me,” I implored.
“You don’t belong here. That is all I can say. Have a good day, we will be in touch.”
The man in the black glasses walked out the door like a sentinel, leaving behind a business card. There was nothing on the black card aside from a scattering of star like shapes. They appeared to be in a constellation I did not recognize.
My dad bounded in right afterwards, questioning me aggressively. He demanded I show him the business card.
“What does this mean?!” he shouted. “What did he say to you?”
“That I’m normal. That’s all,” I replied.
Dad didn’t seem to accept my defense, but I left to my room to process the confusing conversation with the vulture headed man. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore.
All of a sudden I received a text from an unknown caller. All it showed was one emoji:
👽 | 2022-03-27T13:07:39 | 2022-03-27T10:44:01 | 68 | 27 |
[WP] You're a 'comically incompetent' supervillain for a group of C-List heroes. They are no real threat to you, so you endure their childish speeches. However, when the heroes raid the civilian business you run on the side and injure your employees, you decide to take yourself seriously for once. | Harold was lying on the floor, bleeding from the bullet hold on his shoulder.
“Are you the boss here?” Thuderia asked.
“Yes,” I replied, my anger starting.
“Give us the money,” Flame Lord snarled.
“Why?”
“Because,” Anne began, “we’re your Trio of Salvation. We deal with the super villain Blackout. Now give us the money.”
“No,” I said, and threw them out telekinetically.
I wasn’t finished. I repaired Harold wound, and created some new blood for him. He should live, but I’ll get him to the hospital later.
The Trio got up, with great rage.
“The fuck?” Thuderia growled, covering her face.
“I am Blackout. And you crossed a damn line.”
“Hah. Blackout? You’re just a ‘comically incompatant’ super villa-“ Flame Lord tried to say, but ripping of the bottom of his jaw shut him up.
“I’ve never been all that interested in taking over the city. I’ve only continued as a hobby to prevent worse villains from showing up. Turns out they showed up today!”
I kicked Anne to the tops of the buildings, and brought my leg down on top of Thunderia.
“Before I was known as Blackout,” I continued, beating these fakes to a pulp, “I was Creator! The only Hero undefeated! With the power to make new abilitys! I brought down Snatcher! I defeated the duo villains of Time and Space! And all of it was done singlehandedly!” I finished, leaving badly broken but living bodies of these false helpers. “And now I’m bringing you to the Tartarus.”
The shock on their faces was quite something.
“Bu-but we’re heros! Why would we be brought to the jail for extremely dangerous villains?” Thunderia wimpered.
“You shot an innocent man, demanded money at gunpoint, and claim to be innocent?”
They fell silent, realizing their pleas would obly fall on deaf ears.
—-
“Hey Creator!” A cheerful voice cried out.
“Hey Snatcher. I got some new faces for you.”
“Oooh, an S ranked threat?”
“No, some C ranked heros.”
“Damn it, I was hoping for a 4th member. I want to play Mahjong!”
“Not my problem. By the way, I’m currently known as Blackout, a Grade D villain.”
“Grade D? Isn’t that reserved for Villains that can’t actually harm anyone? And private info?”
“I’ve been requested by the city of Lancurk to be their villain, so they report me as grade C. Anyway, I gotta get going, these fucks shot my employee.”
“Bye!!!” | *This time* it had to work. It couldn't be like that time the duct tape broke in the torture chamber, releasing the bar that kept Doctor KingKitty from morphing into her feline form and escaping. Or like the time my blaster cannon had no ammo while I finally had WhipWorm in the scope. And most certainly never like the time when I had all of the CloudWing crew trapped in a bus and hanging off the cliffside, and instead of using my extender arm to push it off, I activated the grapple instead.
The CloudWingers had to be stopped at any cost.
Ash stung my nostrils as I prowled about the ruins of my 6-12 convenience store, a business that had nothing to do with CloudWing and which they untargeted with contemptuous unfairness in an act that could be described as villainous. *I'm supposed to be the villain.* I had ignored them for too long, allowing them to go about telling the tallest of tales and exaggerations about their minuscule superpowers while I focused too much on the *project*. Oh me.
*It hadn't been all that difficult to get them all on that bus.* They weren't exactly the brightest superheroes ever, usually gullibly falling into whatever trap suited their fancy the most. KingKitty was had with merely a piece of catnip. WhipWorm just wanted to hide and slithered right in. MellowSnow hated heat and was forced on with nothing more than a cigarette lighter. Then the leader, the pathetic RiverRaven, was so full of their own appetite that a squirrel carcass had brought the bird faster than I could count to ten.
*If only I had finished them then.*
No point in crying over past opportunities. I looked over at the automorpher with glee. If only I had it complete... It would be the most perfect way to dispose of them. Plants, reduced to nothing more than ordinary garden weeds. Then, onto the rest of the superheroes. *Yes, yes. I could plant them in a garden. So much fun.*
I licked my lips. Time to go to work.
\-----------
I couldn't help but let out a smile directed at nothing as I watched all of them get into the back of the brown van, the automorpher pointed out the window at it. This was going to be all too easy... They had fallen for the same traps that I had laid out the last time! Oh me.
Once all four were inside I called down to the security guard whom I'd paid a handsome sum and he shut the door. At once I charged the automorpher and pulled the trigger, expecting a cathartic blast of energy to rush into the van.
What came out instead was... a wisp of smoke?
That's when the gun started to feel hot. Not just hot like it'd been warmed by the sun on an afternoon, or hot like a cell phone gets when its overused. Boiling hot, enough that I was forced to drop it.
Of course, when it hit the ground a blast of energy finally did come out of it, directed at me. It didn't kill me, instead giving me these stupid petals around my face so I look like a sunflower. A loser.
<pouts>
\----------------
r/StoriesToThinkAbout | 2022-11-28T14:47:16 | 2022-11-28T14:15:34 | 414 | 18 |
[WP] An evil witch curses you with a guardian angel. Why?
My first prompt! | The day I was born my fairy godmother appeared, as is the custom, and summoned from the air the most amazingly beautiful figure anyone had ever seen. Six foot three, pure muscle with giant wings sprouting from his back, this naked adonis glowed with holy light. Golden hair ran down his bronzed back and wide blue eyes reflected the sunlight.
That was 18 years ago. I know now that my fairy godmother truly hated me.
"Come on, lets go clean the stables." Walking slowly to the shit filled stables, my shovel on my back, I tried to avoid the crowds of gorgeous young women who lined the streets of the small village where I lived. It had been like this my entire life. At first, it was fantastic! So many beautiful women always around seems like a dream to a 12 year old, but when it became perfectly clear that they were only interested in my guardian Angel, Stephanus, it started to get old.
Angels don't change. Apparently they don't wear clothes either. I've spent my life with a nearly omnipotent chiselled naked Aryan demi-god with wings walking behind me. As the chubby son of a minor noble, it's caused me some problems. I'm always compared to him. When I was 10, I learned to ride a horse. He flew beside me. Which would you watch? Right. Dating? Uh-huh. Water water everywhere, but not a girl to kiss.
Steve's not all bad himself though. It's really not his fault. He doesn't sleep with any of the women, that would be unholy. The most he does is try to get them to pray more. He's also not all that intelligent. It's like having a puppy. A really well meaning well hung puppy that's actually a 6 foot tall god-man. He cares about me, but it seems like they don't have personal space in heaven which has made for a few awkward situations. It took a while to get used to him watching me sleep.
We shovelled shit. It's nice not to have to do that alone at least. I swear though if a Fairy Godmother shows up to the birth of my children (not that I'll ever have any at this rate), I'll know exactly what to do.
I'll use this shovel to make a godmother popsicle. | 103 days.
It had been 103 days since he first met the gnarled old woman that sat on the park bench every Saturday morning at 8:23 AM. That morning he was returning from a particularly discouraging appointment with his therapist. Shoulders slumped forward, a dirty cigarette in his mouth, shivering in the sunlight, he passed by the woman with eyes cast downward -the direction they had faced for most of his adult life.
"Spare change?" It was an innocent enough question and one he had faced before. This day, however, was a particularly discouraging day and like most people on discouraging days he had little patience for the inconveniences of life.
"Get a job," It was an unoriginal retort but one filled with the malice of a man who had lost all sympathy for himself. Perhaps greater than the actual impact of his words was his intention, for in that moment all he wanted was for the woman to be stung by the cruelty of her circumstances.
"You won't be able to do it. I won't *let* you." Her words hadn't meant much to him then but as they rang through his head now they felt like the gongs of an ancient bell, a signal, a warning.
As he stood at his subway stop he imagined the dirty apartment he was going home to with his dirty heroin needles and his dirty landlord and his dirty dishes soaking in the dirty water of his dirty sink. And as he saw his train lights rounding the corner and suddenly rushing towards him he let himself lean forward into the maw of the abyss and the lights of the train felt warm on the side of his face as he rushed towards the tracks that lay in the concrete. And as the feeling of contentment with the inevitable overcame him the feeling of a hand grabbing his shirt drowned out all momentary peace he had discovered. He looked back and saw the face of his savior and his Satan and in his mind rang the words "I won't let you."
At his apartment he skipped his floor and went straight for the roof. And as he stood on the ledge with the wind whipping his face he stopped shivering and fell with his shoulders held high and eyes cast to the sky. And as the feeling of contentment with the inevitable overcame him the feeling of a hand grabbing his shirt drowned out all momentary peace he had discovered. He looked back and in his mind rang the words "I won't let you."
It had been 103 days and every day in every way possible he had attempted to end the forlorn life that lay ahead of him and everyday the hand grabbed him bringing him back to the turmoil of his existence. Every Saturday at 8:23 AM he had visited the woman at the bench, spare change spilling out of his pockets, begging for her to end his torment and every day she said nothing.
And as he walked towards the park bench on Saturday at 8:23 AM he cried because the woman was no longer there. | 2014-01-30T19:09:20 | 2014-01-30T19:08:21 | 107 | 14 |
[WP] A cop arrives at the golden gate bridge to talk a man out of committing suicide. After they have a short conversation, the cop jumps off the bridge. | Officer Madison literally burst from his car.
"MISTER! DON'T DO IT! FUCK!"
There was a man on the railings of the Golden Gate Bridge and he was poised to jump.
"No, Officer, I don't have a choice I-"
The man turned away and bent his legs slightly.
"WHAT? NO! STOP! YOU DO HAVE A CHOICE!"
Madison was running over.
"No! Officer I-"
"IT'S GONNA BE ALRIGHT! JUST STEP DOWN FROM THERE! STEP DOWN FROM THERE!"
The man held out his hand and Madison stopped. Breathless.
"You don't underst-"
"I'VE BEEN THERE, MAN! I'VE FUCKING BEEN THERE. -Huff- -Puff-."
"What?"
"I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL, MAN. I'VE BEEN THERE, OKAY? IT FUCKING SUCKS!"
"But my wife-"
"I WAS RAPED AS A CHILD!"
"What-?"
"I WAS RAPED, OKAY. MY UNCLE TIM. HE OWNED A FARM."
Madison was slowly, steadily, closing the gap between the two of them.
"NO! Stay back! It's slip-"
Madison paused. The man looked downwards and then back at Madison.
"Officer, I-!"
"I UNDERSTAND YOU, MAN. IT'S LIKE DROWNING, OKAY. I WANTED TO DIE WHEN I LEARNED WHAT RAPE WAS. I WANTED TO FUCKING DIE. I-"
"WOULD YOU FUCKING LISTEN TO ME? MY WIFE FELL DOWN THERE!"
Madison took a double take.
"What?"
"SHE'S DOWN THERE, SHE NEEDS HELP!"
"Oh shit! Call 911!" Madison said as he leaped onto the railing in one fell motion.
"Officer, what are you- I SAID IT'S SLIPPERY!"
But it was too late.
----
*i'm sorry.. i thought it was terrible but i'm posting it anyway...* | "Hey buddy! You can't do that here! Do you know how much of a pain it is to fish people out of the water?" Officer Dave shouted to a man about to jump from the Golden Gate Bridge.
"Who cares," said the man. "Just leave me down there if you have to. I'm not worth the trouble."
"No."
"Why not?" The man leaned closer to the edge. He trembled, and Officer Dave made sure to keep his distance.
"I don't know, sir. I don't write the rules. What is your name?"
"Perry."
"What the hell has taken you here, guy?"
"I killed a man," Perry said through tears. "I was drunk but I thought I was okay to drive. You don't know what it's like. The guilt. The pain of knowing I can never undo what I have done."
Officer Dave looked around. Droplets of sweat ran down his nose and dripped onto his shirt, and he snorted. "Shut it. That is really bumming me out. I'm in a really good mood, and you're just like--I don't know--hey, do you like gambling?"
"I guess," said Perry.
"I have two hundred dollars in my wallet. I will give you that money and jump off this bridge right fucking now if you promise to give it another 24 hours to really think about things. Priorities and whatnot. I don't know."
The man stepped back. "Wait, what? That doesn't even make--"
Officer Dave's mouth twitched and he looked up to the sky. "I'm trying to branch out, you know? Trying new things. My wife got me to try yoga. It was awful. It's all awful," he sighed. "I am on a *lot* of amphetamines right now. So I will jump off this bridge and give you the money if you can answer one trivia question. If you can't, I'll just go back to my car and pray that you change your mind."
"I can't be responsible for another death."
"I'm going to jump if you don't answer my question," Officer Dave laughed.
"But...like...what? What is the question?" asked Perry. He squirmed and trembled more.
"My wife and I had an argument today about who Patrick Stewart is. She said he is the guy from some Star Trek show or something stupid like that," Officer Dave laughed. His face twitched.
"Who do you think he is?"
"I don't think he is a real person. She made it all up."
"Okay," said Perry. "She is right."
"Fuck."
^edited ^for ^a ^typo | 2014-07-04T22:12:26 | 2014-07-04T21:53:12 | 34 | 17 |
[WP] The creation of the universe is like a slowly loading webpage with Earth being one of the only pieces of "loaded" content. One day, without warning, the rest of the empty universe suddenly "loads." | "Franklin! Mr. Franklin!"
Professor Jonathan Franklin looked up from the papers covering his desk at the gasping intern. "What is it?" he said irritatedly.
"There's an anomaly."
The professor groaned. He closed his notebook, saving his page with his pencil. He had been on a roll, and felt as if he was on the verge of a breakthrough. "Alright," he said, rising wearily from his chair. "Show me."
He followed the intern through the halls of the Dark Matter Research Lab. "So Dark Matter isn't observable, except for its gravitational effects, right?" the intern chattered.
"Of course, yes." The professor really hoped that this wouldn't be a waste of time. "That should be obvious."
"Well, we just observed it."
"What?"
"A lot of it."
They reached the main computer, and the professor gasped.
The monitor was exploding with color. Where the pale blue dot had once been surrounded by darkness, it was now surrounded by thousands, millions, billions of other dots.
"Zoom out," Jonathan ordered.
The intern followed his directions. The blue dot disappeared, and they could see that the space between the galaxies was washed with stars. "Keep going." The individual lights of the stars blended together, and became a painting.
The two men stared at the monitor, and the grumpy cat stared back. The words **Loading Completed** hung below the cat's face.
"Professor? What's going on?"
The Professor shrugged. "Looks like we're a pixel, son."
| It began with a picture of a pyramid that my cousin posted. A vaguely Mesoamerican-looking pyramid, made of some bluish sort of rock, and captioned "i never seed tihs befor".
My cousin's atrocious spelling aside, the picture was *odd*. I knew pyramid-building civilizations were tropical (mostly), but the guy lives in Canada. So I shot him a message, asking what the picture was of. His reply was a very terse "duno, never sen it untill yesday. 2 mile frm wher i live".
The daily routine made me forget about it. Phone calls, emails, tickets to be submitted and solved, lunch with the coworkers, all of it numbly mundane, the intellectual rock where the seeds of new ideas take tentative root, only to be crushed and eaten by the large dumb herbivores we call "users".
I was reminded of the pyramid that evening, at home. Strangely, it was not on the internet, but on the news. Chopper footage of the mysterious artifact that had appeared in the Canadian wilderness was followed by a nearly-hysterical report from some astronomer who was confirming nothing, it was too soon to say anything, really, but was very unclear *what* it was he wasn't confirming.
The next day, everything shattered. Every communications channel overflowing with pictures, recordings, politicians urging calm and religious figures preaching, according to their wont, salvation or damnation.
The skies had changed. Several thousand new stars, most of them in precisely geometric configurations, had suddenly *appeared*. What's more, all data that we could gather said that no, they weren't new. They were thousands, millions of years old. And none of them had existed last week.
Of course, the heavens were strange, but they had always been. The uncounted messages, on every conceivable wavelength, from radio and microwave to X-rays and gamma rays, were disturbing. Even more so was the fact that they appeared to have been sent a long while ago, linking all the new stars together.
They were alien, and they spoke in all the myriad tongues Man had ever spoken.
We were, suddenly, not alone. | 2015-02-09T13:50:50 | 2015-02-09T13:45:44 | 135 | 22 |
[WP] "Push this button to transform this world into a Utopia. Warning: this will eradicate all people who "... The rest is scratched off and illegible. | The button was there.
John was there.
The words were there.
But the last part was not.
Warning: this will eradicate all people who
Nothing. All people who what? There was a blank space, and a line underneath, almost as if mockingly highlighting to him the importance of the missing part.
After all his searching, through 40 years of pouring through ancient text, climbing mountains, hiking through vast plains, he finally found it. The solution to Utopia.
But he was lost now, there was no mention in the ancient scripture of the missile part to his puzzle.
*Here upon the final answer.*
*To the salvation of mankind.*
*Lies an inscription that warns those who come.*
*To beware of what in it they may find.*
John stared at the button.
He thought about his life's work. Was it all for moot? What Utopia would be achieved through eradication?
He pondered leaving, but as he picked up his gear, the answer finally struck him.
What he would find within, was not of the temple.
It was of his own.
The blank was not to highlight the importance of the words.
It was to show that no one could know what the truth was.
It was an infinite machine, of infinite power. But not infinite knowledge, and neither were its builders. What was to come had to be done by the knowledge of its executor. The ancients never had the will to finish the machine, and so they left it to rot, and their war consumed them, because they could not let go of their ideals. He finally understood.
He went back to the panel, and carved in the final words.
"This will eradicate all people who do not believe in the same utopia."
...and John pressed the button.
...
John woke up, and saw nothing but fire. Was he dead?
"Hello John! Welcome to hell! You've got two choices! 100 trillion years in heaven, or a wooden spoon?" | [WP] "Push this button to transform this world into a Utopia. Warning: this will eradicate all people who "... The rest is scratched off and illegible.
-
Reggie mashed his hands together and felt the sweat between his palms. He stared down at them and wiped the excess moisture off on his jeans. “Don’t think about it for too long,” Pete said. “It’s just supposed to be, you know, whatever pops into your head first.”
God this is so freakin’ stupid, Reggie thought to himself. How is this supposed to prove whether or not I can sweep up a theater? Plus, he was sixteen, and his idea of a perfect utopia was a world in which good looking girls were down for whatever. World peace would be nice, but Reggie wasn’t a moron, he knew that wishing for that kind of thing out loud just made you sound pretentious. (He recently learned what pretentious meant and liked finding new ways to use it.)
“I think it kills anyone who touches it,” Reggie said. “You know, like you have to sacrifice yourself for a perfect world.” It wasn’t actually the first thing that popped into his head. It wasn’t even the second but he knew it was the kind of thing that managers liked to hear.
“Oh, hmm, that’s interesting,” Pete scratched his chin and Reggie finally decided that he hated the guy. The dude probably made up his mind about the job the moment they shook hands and now he was just wasting everyone’s time. The theater was in desperate need of unskilled labor and Reggie was willing to work for less than minimum wage. Didn’t that mean the interview should have been over fifteen minutes ago? “So would you press it?”
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, Reggie thought as he straightened his tie. He cursed himself for even showing up to the interview. His dad was insisting that he get a summer job, but he would never know if Reggie skipped one of the ten million interviews he sent the kid to endure. At least Reggie would have the last laugh. His dad hated all that “new-age baloney” and would roll his eyes when he found out that a manager in his late-twenties used it to conduct interviews.
“I don’t know, maybe. I mean, wouldn’t you?” Reggie didn’t know what the expected response was, so he rolled the dice and hoped Pete was self-absorbed enough to talk about himself for the rest of the time.
“No way,” Pete shook his head and made a face like the answer was obvious. “Utopias are completely overrated.” He looked down at his clipboard. “Anyway, next question.” | 2015-10-21T14:07:36 | 2015-10-21T13:57:19 | 161 | 27 |
[WP] "Push this button to transform this world into a Utopia. Warning: this will eradicate all people who "... The rest is scratched off and illegible. | "Think about it," said I. "It's a simple logic puzzle."
"How so, Primus?" asked Secundus.
"First, we know that the result is a Utopia," I explained.
Secundus frowned. "But was not Moore's Utopia quite different than what the term has come to mean in the vulgar?"
"Will you shut the fuck up and let me talk?" I asked, tapping my foot. "Anyway, we know that what will result will be a Utopia, by definition better than this world."
"Granted," Secundus said, cutting his eyes sidewise at me.
"Therefore, whoever the button eliminates must have been a condition keeping us from achieving a Utopia in this possible world." I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms.
Secundus's frown deepened. "I'm not sure that follows. Certainly, we can say that the removal of whatever set of people the button removes was a sufficient, but perhaps not necessary, condition to creating a Utopia."
I shrugged. "In practical extension, it makes little difference, since we know this is the actual world. Your modal semantics have little bearing on the correctness of my argument."
Secundus persisted. "Further complicating your analysis is your assumption that the button does not simply remove 'all people who are living' or 'all people who breathe oxygen.' It may kill everyone."
"At which point, I expect," I said, taking a sip of my coffee, "no one will be around to give a damn."
"Is your non-existence then preferable so long as it results in a net increase in Utopian levels of society?" Secundus asked.
"I'll do the questioning around here," I said, "and anyway, yes, of course."
"Don't you tacitly assume the correctness of utilitarianism then? Ought you push the button, even if a Utopia results?"
"Spare me your moralizing! By pushing the button, whoever or whatever is removed is a net drain on society. Sure, it will be *personally* tragic if someone I know or like is removed, but it will be societally preferable. I'll be a hero."
"Or the villain," rejoined Secundus.
"How could I be? Anyone who would sympathize with the removed group is probably in it."
"That seems to grasp at straws," Secundus spluttered.
"Seems to? Who cares? The fact is that we are herd animals; no behavior we found intolerable would be beyond us. And if perhaps I were to cast too broad a net in removing the undesirables, then my net would only ensnare those who *would* have fallen into the group, but were not yet given the chance."
"Why do you assume the distinction criterion will be negative? It could as very well be that the clause ends with 'and all people who are rational enough to doubt the man longing for Utopia,' which is not a negative quality."
"Says you," I fired back. "You're the one who would damn a whole world for sentimentality."
The waitress tapped her pen against the side of her notepad. "Look," she said, "I don't mean to be rude, but are you two assholes going to order, or should I come back when one of you had published his dissertation?" | In retrospect he should have taken much longer to make the decision, but thinking things out had never been one of his strong suits. He flipped open the clear glass lid and stared at the button for a few seconds. Just a simple red button on a small black box. Apart from the inscription there was nothing remarkable about it. If there was no inscription he would have pushed it anyway, just because it looked like the kind of button that would be fun to push.
And then he pushed it.
There was a slight resistance, as though the button were resting on a stiff spring. Once it was done he looked back at the ocean in front of him. It looked exactly as it had before. Same blue sky and bluer waves. Same whisky white clouds. Same lapping surf. Of course it wasn't going to work. It was just a silly box with a silly button that washed up on the beach. He still thought it was kind of neat and decided it would be an interesting thing to have. He wasn't quite ready to go home so he decided to put it in his car and keep looking for things. He turned to where the parking lot should have been, but it was gone.
The parking lot, the grey concrete building with showers and a pizza place, the road and the streetlights. All gone.
He sprinted to where he knew it should have been. Completely gone.
Bewildered he imagined that he must have gotten lost and turned around. Up and down the beach he ran, looking for any sign of the town and things that suddenly weren't anymore. The things he'd known all his life. It was like he was transported to a whole different time. There was no sign of civilization anywhere. No cars, nothing. Just an endless shore and peaceful blue water.
Where the road should have been he found beautiful manicured grass. It rolled on and on. There where flowers innumerable growing throughout. Trees and plants, the likes of which he'd never seen grew here and there. There were tiny white flowers that shook like bells and tinkled in the wind. Green ones that let out bursts of perfume. Everywhere small animals were scurrying, completely devoid of fear. Bunnies came up to him and ran circles around his legs. Two yellow birds came out of a tree and landed on his shoulder.
'I have to call my wife.' He thought. He reached into his pocket but his phone was gone. It was expensive and he just bought it, but he didn't care. Everything was beautiful. The button had worked and everything was perfect. He would walk home and talk to her. This was the best day of his life.
On his way home he passed the hospital. People in gowns were spilling out into the road, laughing and hugging, throwing down crutches and pulling out IV lines. It was like he died and went to heaven. Everything grey and dim about the world was washed away, and now it was clean and fresh and new. Th air tastes sweeter, and the sunlight warmed him perfectly without making him hot.
On his road the houses were the same but somehow different; better. They all looked beautiful and perfect. People were walking in the road, dumbstruck but joyful.
He burst into the house and called out for her. She came down the stairs, 'I have no idea what-" she began.
""It was me! It was this button!" He held up the box for her, practically crying with happiness. He had never noticed his wife to be so beautiful before, she was practically glowing.
"I don't understand," she said.
"Look, read the inscription," he went on. "A Utopia...a paradise, it worked...everything is perfect."
"But the children," she said. "I can't find them, I have no idea where they are...one minute they were in their rooms playing and the next they were gone, just disappeared." She took the box from his hands and studied the label. "What's this about people who believe in God?" | 2015-10-21T14:27:42 | 2015-10-21T14:11:47 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Scientists are now able to recreate a person's last sentence before they died, leading to thousands of solved murder cases. However, one victim's last words leave detectives baffled. | "Pull back the sheet, Diana. I need to know you got the right guy," demanded Owen as he sent a tray of tools clamoring to the floor.
"Mr. Pavlenko, we are sure of it. You have our word. We've already matched him with the records you--"
"Now."
Grabbing the corner of the plastic sheet, Diana revealed the body.
"If you need a moment alone, I can leave, " Diana offered.
"No. That won't be necessary. Just give me a moment to collect my thoughts."
"Of course."
Diana stared uncomfortably at the tiled floor, wringing her hands together while she waited for Owen to finish.
"Diana, what were his last words. Tell me what he said. What legacy did he leave for us?"
"We took the liberty of completing a residual scan of his final brain activity before your arrival. [Here's the printout from our scanner.](http://i.imgur.com/TosCmv8.webm)" | All was quiet at 6am in the station. I was the only one there. I stayed here eagerly waiting on Johnson to return. Johnson had gone to Chicago to retrieve the results of the test.
The test was in it's early stages, with a few minor glitches with the system in forms of grammar and spelling.
But today it was finally ready for it's first test.
The public has always been curious about exactly how Michael Jackson had died. So today, with permission from the family, we would finally find out.
Johnson bust through the door at 6:15 sharp just as we planned. "Damian! Damian Damian! It's here it's right here!" he exclaimed as he passed the front desk. I stood up and darted towards him, "What? What does it say Johnson?"
"His whole image in his later life... It's all..."
"Spit it out, damnit!"
"He was faking it! He wasn't an avid drug addict!"
"What? How on Earth did he die then?"
Johnson pulled out the documentation. He slowly unfolded it and turned the paper towards me.
"I knew it would come to this, you sick, psychotic man... Well of course I tried to tell them you were "Bad" but they could not take the hint... So this is it then? Just a needle in my arm and I'm dead... I'll just be another washed up celebrity that got too into their recreation... Well they will find out you did it Georgie... Yeah they always find a way."
The page ends. I flip it over to the back.
"You know I was always an Al Gore fan. I wish you luck when they find out that you did 9/11 Bush!"
The page ends there. | 2016-02-07T23:19:57 | 2016-02-07T17:28:21 | 41 | 20 |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Jeremy was sitting quietly in his living room. He'd spent most of his Sunday watching football and drinking cheap beer. The game was interrupted by a news bulletin.
Popular actress Jennifer Lawrence died today of a self inflicted gunshot wound. She was overheard minutes before saying, "I.. Can't... Take it... Anymore... It doesn't stop..."
That makes the 103rd actress to commit suicide in 2016 said the announcer just before signing off.
"Wow," thought Jeremy. "Isn't that something? I'm going to google her pictures for old time sake" zip... | In spite of his years in the oncology department, arguably one of the most humbling and readying rites of passage into the world of truth there are, nothing had quite prepared Dr. Callender to tell Chloë Grace Moretz's parents that she wasn't having seizures nor epileptic fits of any kind, let alone dying. Dread mutated exponentially into hot and sickly pink and green wedged between the back of his throat and tongue and deep in his ears like an inconvenient furnace every step closer to her parents until finally, out of embarrassment, realizing he had been face to face with them this whole time, simply suggested, "Perhaps you could ask Mr. Scorsese to postpone shooting for another, mm, about, till 2015? I'm afraid she'll be... well, she's not comatose... I've never seen anything quite like this before,"
Oh, Dr. Callender knew exactly what was going on, knew he partly contributed to her current condition, and knew that he would be the first man to simultaneously fuck tens of thousands of men over the age of forty without having to retire his stethoscope for the day,
"Really big fan, by the way." | 2016-03-12T07:15:27 | 2016-03-12T07:00:34 | 303 | 21 |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well. | Sonnet Number Seventy-One
As Issac Newton once had said it best,
"Each action has its opposite reaction."
Because his physics are true with all the rest
It follows, masturbation's no exception.
The diddled self when thinking of another,
Requires outcome of action, to be felt.
If she is someone's sister, wife, or mother
Makes no difference to feelings below the belt.
Celebrity's a curse with constant attention,
No rest as long as object for desire.
The men get a constant, onslaught of shlickin'
And women feel the tug of misplaced fire.
The worst is Helen of Troy, immortal dame
Her dusty corpse's restless to this day.
| I got a call from a friend who invited me over to her house to talk about something. I've accepted to come, but I have been feeling very awkward about it. I mean, she does look a little good, but I'm not sure if I do like her - talking about it is too awkward and embarrassing, and...nevermind about that.
I arrive, say hello, and we're sitting together, while I'm trying to maintain my composure. She starts off the conversation, saying "Hey...I have been feeling weird lately."
Feeling curious, I respond. "Yeah? Well, do you want to explain it?"
After a few seconds where she was looking away from me, looking shy and reluctant to say anything, she tells me "Well, I have been feeling like some...something's been inside of me, but it shouldn't..."
Even though I could see that she has more to say but is too reluctant to say anything more, I can already imagine what she was going to say. I could guess that she starts making sounds when that 'thing' feels like it's inside of her, and that it makes her all tingly or however the hell it works.
If that is the case...shit. I think I know what is happening.
I later confirmed it when I felt like I was going into someone even if I was only doing something mundane, and I could feel something very familiar after the sensation of being inside someone was over. | 2016-03-12T08:12:37 | 2016-03-12T07:22:16 | 40 | 14 |
[WP] Write a story about something completely mundane. DON'T make it interesting. No plot twists. NO alien attacks, viruses, divine intervention, nothing. Just totally normal. Please, nothing ridiculous | I woke up well past sunrise,
I stepped onto the floor;
I slipped into my green-trimmed robe,
I opened up the door.
I took the stairs one at a time,
Like every day before;
I scrubbed the sleep out of my eyes,
I opened up a drawer...
What horror there awaited me,
Made sure I was awake-
Oh good, it's just a corkscrew;
I thought it was a snake. | John lowered the boat into the water and pushed off as the morning sun rose over the lake. It wasn't a very hot morning, nor was it very cold, and John was fine with that. He was mildly interested in going fishing, after the worst week of his life. But that was a story for another time.
John chose a #2 Aberdeen hook and tied a Palomar knot with his fishing line. He added a large piece of worm to the hook, and a few small weights above it. Finally, he clipped on a red and white bobber and cast out into the lake.
Minutes passed. Nothing happened. John decided to move his bobber higher up the line, to allow the worm to rest at a deeper spot of the lake.
Minutes passed. Still nothing happened. John decided to try another part of the lake. Nothing happened there either. After a time, John glanced at his watch. It was time to go home.
When John returned to the boat launch he loaded his boat onto his trailer and drove off. John hadn't caught any fish today, but he was fine with that.
| 2016-05-23T14:33:38 | 2016-05-23T14:26:04 | 31 | 14 |
[WP] Another world has clashed with ours, but only those who have lost something can find it. Those missing an arm can feel it, those missing an ear can hear it, and those who are blind... | I walk beside a girl on a wheelchair. She's young, barely fourteen or fifteen. Her arms are thin and layered with veins like spider webs. Her hair is thin with bald batches. She stares straight ahead with a look of pure determination.
She reminds me of my daughter. That girl never gave up on anything.
I turn my head forward. The view of the Gateway never fails to take my breath away. A giant sphere of light hovers before us, less than a mile away. It shimmers in the setting sun, casting a rainbow hue around its edges like a soap bubble. It pulses gently, almost as if it’s breathing.
*Inhale. Exhale.* I suddenly notice that I’m breathing in time with its rhythm. The Gateway has a special effect on people like us. I’ve never felt so calm in a long time. *Not since the failed surgery.*
These spheres began appearing all over the world two weeks ago. The curious thing is this – only people who have lost something could see them. People who lost their leg, or their sense of hearing, or an internal organ. Last week, someone figured out what they were – gateways to another world. They emitted light and sound in a wavelength only certain people could sense. People like us.
*Inhale. Exhale.*
Two days ago, a message was deciphered from the frequency of the spheres' pulses: “*Enter to find what you've lost.*” All over the world, the deaf, dumb, amputated – anyone who has lost a part of themselves began streaming into the spheres, hoping for salvation.
Salvation.
I stare dead ahead. A gateway. A second chance.
I clutch her photo in my hand.
*I'm coming, baby.*
| Amy came bursting through the front door. “Mom! Grandpa is acting strange again! Come help!”
Debora was in the middle of cooking dinner. She quickly put the rolls in the oven, and ran out to the front porch to check on her father.
The old man had been sitting in his favorite rocking chair, enjoying the birds singing while watching the setting sun, at least that was where Debora would leave him while needing to work on something around the house. She loved her father, and had decided to care for him as best as she could during the remainder of his life under her roof. Lately though, she was beginning to think he may do better in a care facility.
When she got to the porch, her father was out in the front yard, eyes closed and arms outstretched as if embracing an invisible dance partner, slowly dancing to an unheard rhythm. She watched, and remembered simpler times. Times when she was a little girl, and would sneak out of bed and watch her parents slow dance in the living room to the old radio. She hadn’t seen her father dance since mom passed away.
She quietly went down into the yard, grabbed her father’s hands, and proceeded to dance with him. A tear began to streak the old man’s face. “Suzy… is that really you? I’ve missed you so much.”
Debora began to shed a tear. “Mom isn’t here anymore, remember?”
He shook his head. “No, I hear her. Her angelic voice is coming in loud and clear.” He tapped his right ear. “It sounds so crystal clear.”
Debora put her forehead on her dad’s chest. “Daddy, are you feeling alright? You haven’t had hearing in that ear since your war days.”
He began to hum along with the inaudible tune. Deborah began to cry. It was a lullaby her mom would sing to her every night. Memories began to flood back to her, and they were becoming unbearable. “Daddy, why are you doing this?”
The old man opened his eyes, stopped dancing, and took a step back. “I’m sorry for making you cry…” He then froze and examined his daughters face. “I’m sorry miss… have we met before?”
| 2016-12-19T07:10:01 | 2016-12-19T06:53:22 | 215 | 32 |
[WP] An ancient immortal, known as The Dark Lord, is very bored. One day he finds out a new band of heroes is coming for him, yet again. "Hope they are fun enough", thought The Dark Lord, disguised as an average dweller, while approaching the team: "So, I heard you need a guide?" | "There they are." I whispered to myself, "I hope these guys are more fun than that last group. So much drama with that crew, right up to their painful deaths."
I quickly transformed my body to appear more frail, and trustworthy.
"Oh don't mind me, I'm just a tired old villager looking to help strangers on their quest for no clear reason." I chuckled to myself. "Alright, showtime."
I emerged from my hiding place in the shadows and approached the group.
"Good evening adventurers, I heard you are in need of a guide?" I announced to my future victims.
The largest member of the group lept to her feet, and took a defensive stance with her sword pointed towards me.
"Stop where you are stranger." She said in a surprisingly deep voice, "Make your identity known or suffer the consequences."
I put my hands in the air, in mock terror.
"Oh please, no miss! I am but a humble villager looking for adventure. I've spent countless years at home with no aspirations, or excitement. I believe I know what you seek, and I intend to aid you on your journey, should you permit me."
That sounded pretty good, I thought to myself. The massive woman put her sword in its sheath and stepped forward.
"I trust no man, and I allow no weak chains in my group." She said as she stared down into my eyes. "Ask yourself carefully if this is what you desire, for where we are going there may be no return."
I forced my lip to quiver.
"I am not afraid of death." I said with all sincerity.
An eerie smirk came across the warrior woman's face, and I felt something I hadn't felt in years...
Doubt.
"Come this way then, guide." She said to me. "Make yourself warm by the fire, and introduce yourself to the rest of the Elite."
I fought hard to hide my amusement. They called themselves 'The Elite', oh this was going to be fun. | Day 1,
Well, this adventurers are a _raw_ batch of complete and utter **lunatics**. Their leader is a half idiot paladin named Volzer. I think he took a head injury some time ago because he's gormless. He is, however, stunningly strong and occasionally quite experienced about things.
Then there's the group scout. The rouge little bastard Radick. This slimey little fellow already though he could go through my pockets not one, not twice, but forty different times. When we found the tavern. When we entered the tavern. When we ordered drinks. _When_ I _ordered drinks_. On the way to bed. While I was trying to sleep. While I'm writing now, in fact.
The real brains of the operation seems to be the bard, but I hesitate to call them the brains. They play the lute like a cat plays the ocarina. Never the less, they've a silver tongue and a great... Figure. She's quite fetching. Or at least I hope it's a woman. I find myself a little confused when I peer at them.
Lastly is the group mum. There's always one. This little cleric fellow, pious and quite silent. He follows the group around with a fair amount of discipline but then will suddenly explode with life and hunger and...he keeps poking at the bard with as much curiosity as me.
We make for the Black Forest tommorow and the Kabold den shortly after. We'll see how that madmen do.
Day 2,
((The page is filthy with what look like splatters))
I may have to alter the path some more. The bard smashed a Kabold lord over the skull with his lute. Oh. Yes, the bard is male. They managed to flirt and charm their way into the _middle of the Kabold camp_ before springing the trap. The cleric and paladin swept in with me tagging along behind. The cleric would smash the poor bastards towards the paladin and Volzer would spray me with their poor guts with a giant slash.
Meanwhile Raddick went through every pocket and satchel as they hit the ground and then _went through my pockets again_. Little bastard almost found my journal. When the onslaught was done the bard, whose name _I still don't know_ was playing a set of Kabold war drums between his knees, declaring the instrument a set of bongos.
I don't know what bongos are but it feels like how crazy this is. This group is bongos.
They're going to head into the Dark Caverns tomorrow and I'll have to do well to stall them at the Basilisk. | 2016-12-20T07:51:01 | 2016-12-20T07:39:27 | 376 | 107 |
[WP] You are so focused on listening to music and browsing reddit on your phone, that you walk in to hostage situation in a Starbucks. | "FREEZE THE HELL UP!" The voice got your attention by being loud and terrified.
Let's roll back a little. You were on your way to get your morning coffee. You were well-acquainted with the route and your peripheral vision had been perfected to spot annoyances like uneven pavements and pieces of trash that you are able to walk without looking away from Reddit on your phone.
The voice that greeted you this morning at Starbucks wasn't Shelly's sweet voice or even that of a temp. It was scruffy, the kind that had been on the streets. It didn't strike terror in you. The man with the gun was probably more terrified than you were. You let your gaze sweep slowly across the cafe. Nobody sees beyond the muzzle. Nobody is calling him out on his fear. You wonder why. Everyone's staring at you. Perfect.
You make a loud sniffle (you haven't had your hot white chocolate mocha after all). You look up directly at the aggressor with a smog of being dazed to cloud your own intentions. You muttered an impression of mentally challenged children (and feel apologetic to them at the same time). Then you giggled and looked back down at your phone and began to search Reddit.
You seem braver than normal. That's because you have your Superman tee inside. You call up the thread that you recall, something about [how to survive a hostage situation](https://www.reddit.com/r/coolguides/comments/4xcgxq/how_to_survive_a_hostage_situation/).
The aggressor roughly herded you to a corner with the muzzle in your back, having dismissed you as some kind of new age phone addiction-induced retard. Or perhaps it was a legit condition.
The upside of acting mentally ill is that you get to sit back and observe. The downside is that you can't simply ask the guy what he wanted. He seemed to be putting everyone through an awful lot of inconvenience without clarity of his wants.
The situation isn't ideal. You don't have the chance to calm the rest when you haven't established yourself as a competent saviour to-be. But here goes...
You walked up to the aggressor and put everything you had into a punch to the hand holding the gun, figuring that you were going to skip all the judo and eye-poking in the guide. The gun flew out and slid across the floor. "I've got the gun!" Shelly's sweet voice tel you, even though you already see that in your peripheral vision while staring down the aggressor.
Relief hit you. You thank the heavens and Redditor /u/abadbronc. "Now make me my white chocolate mocha."
---
This is part of my [Fivens project](https://fivenswrite.wordpress.com), check out my [last story](http://wp.me/s7hyl6-museum) if you liked this!
| Daniel looked up to find six faces - 2 concealed by balaclavas, 4 concealed only by anxiety - staring back at him.
"You there!" called one of the balaclavas. It was a male voice, confirmed by the thick eyebrows which were currently pushed together so tightly that they were barely distinct. He was standing behind the counter, cash register open.
Daniel stood, staring, and didn't respond. What the hell was going on?
"Are you deaf?" shouted the man with the eyebrows once again. "Go stand with the others."
Daniel put his head down, pulled his earphones out, and did as he was told. Eyebrows strode over to him, a pistol gripped in his right hand.
"Employee of the year, you are. So committed that you'll even turn up for work when there's a robbery going on." He chortled, then wiped the smile from his face.
"Alright Daniel," - it was on his nametag, of course - "This is how it's going to work. My associate here is going to stay with your fellow employees. You and I are going into the back room to get the rest of the money."
Daniel began to protest, to mumble something about there not being any more money, but Eyebrows cut him off.
"Shut it. We've been watching this place for a while. We know you don't follow official Starbucks protocol. You only take cash to the bank once a week - until then, you keep it on site. The week leading up to Christmas is the busiest time of year for a place like this, so I'll bet that there's quite a bit waiting for us out the back."
Daniel paused for a moment, then lowered his head once again, his silence confirming the truth in the words. At gunpoint, he led Eyebrows out the back of the store, and then pointed to a cupboard.
"It's in there."
Eyebrows looked at him for a moment, as if assessing whether he was trustworthy. Finally he shrugged, lowered his gun, and opened the cupboard.
Inside was a stack of money - some tens, some twenties, but mostly $50 notes. All up, there was several thousand dollars of cash. Eyebrows began to stuff it into a backpack.
"Damn, Daniel. I'm sure you've heard this before, but if most people are paying for your coffees with $50 notes, you guys really need to start lowering your prices."
At that moment there was a loud bang from the front room as the door to the store was kicked open, followed by an even louder bang. A single gunshot.
"Shit. Alright, Daniel, looks like we're not going back that way. Lead me to the back exit, and for god's sake, *run*."
Daniel took off, with Eyebrows following closely behind. They burst out the back door, onto the usually empty side alley where Daniel and his mates would hang out during their breaks. Only this time, there was a car waiting.
"Get in," said Eyebrows, gesturing toward the car with his pistol. Daniel hesitated, and Eyebrows stopped gesturing and pointed the gun directly at him. "NOW!"
Daniel did so, and a few moments later the car burst from the side alley where it had been parked. Eyebrows tore off his balaclava and the driver, also unmasked, turned toward him.
"What the hell did you bring him for?"
"We'll keep him with us until we're sure we've escaped. Then we'll figure out what to do with him." | 2016-12-22T16:26:35 | 2016-12-22T16:07:51 | 73 | 24 |
[WP] As the demon stared at the mortal who summoned it, all that could be heard was a sigh before the words, "You do realize this is a marriage proposal, right?" | Lleataell, demi-demon of chaos, as his friends liked to call them back in what was known as 'the good old days' in hell, when humans raped and pillaged their way throughout the known world without a care for the spiritual consequences of their actions, stared at the young mortal standing before him. Her lips quirked up in a small smirk.
"W-what did you just say?" He managed to stutter out, his usually busy mind coming to a complete stop.
"Marry me, you daft old man," the woman said, her soft and warm eyes blunting the sting of her sharp words.
He took a step closer, uncertainty on his face. "I told you when our contract was done that you would never be able to summon me again. It is written in the Book of Summoning by Lucifer himself that no mortal would be able to bring the same demon back into the realm of man."
Laylah looked like the cat who ate the canary, smug satisfaction radiating off of her in waves. "I told you when I first summoned you, I'm a lawyer. Semantics is kind of my bread and butter."
He groaned. "What did you do?"
She shrugged. "Oh, simply summoned a demon who returned to hell changed, due to a rather unusual series of events that caused him to refuse the soul of the woman he loved, rather than doom her to an eternity in hell. You are not the same demon I first summoned, so I get to keep you this time."
He knew there was a reason he loved this woman. "Say it again."
"What?"
"Ask me your question once more, and I will do everything in my power to answer it truly."
Her smile grew. "Will you marry me, Lleataell?"
"Yes, obviously." | "M-marriage?" She sputtered, her face aghast, tail tucked between her legs
"I never did think I might be asked, nor should I be asked again!
You foolish man, who called me here, you know not what I am:
To stay with me is to stay with Death - it would wind up as your end!"
"Still as I may, I ask again, and will not be denied."
Her suitor said, his wand aglow, a twinkle in his eye.
"You say I know but little, and but little it is true...
But if there's one thing that I know it is that I love you!
I love your ruby scales, the little tufts upon your ears,
I love the smallest things you have, I've been looking all these years.
You have served me, faithful true, for far longer than you might
So thrice now I must ask you: Will you stay within my sight?"
The demon blushed a deeper hue, blue shining in her eyes
For none had ever called her such before in her long life
"You've asked me once, you've asked me twice, and now you ask again
The rule of three now binds me fast, and with it binds me to you.
I have no choice, nor regrets none to stay here by your side
Tell me, simple lover: Will your heart and soul be mine?"
"'Tis done and done, oh beauty, now and then, forevermore
May we stay like this till time is done - you're mine, and I am yours.
The demon grinned and stepped aside, of bindings she was free
Once again to roam the world, to do so as she pleased
But when she smiled it was not warm, as her husband might believe
But rather cold, and full of hate, and burning, deviant glee
"I will spare you but a single word, oh husband-master mine:
of a simple clause you did neglect when binding us in twine.
You said you loved me, were it true, and I would have your heart...
But you forgot your vow, my love: Till death it is we part."
She took him, then and there, and indeed his heart she stole
Though, perhaps she wasn't quite the thief that he once though he owned
Let this be a lesson to us all, arcane or not:
Trust your heart and soul to no one save the one to whom you ought! | 2017-02-11T21:16:40 | 2017-02-11T20:44:36 | 48 | 14 |
[WP] You crash land onto a planet where everyone is weak as hell and everything is made of soft material like cardboard and styrofoam etc. You, a regular person, are essentially their superhuman. | Day 28
I think I'm blending in. I never thought that being so careful would be so difficult. I have to tread lightly, literally, so I don't destroy their roads. Still can't believe that I'm here; that here exists. I've spent much of this first month homeless, but I got lucky today. Good things will follow. They must.
Day 32
Had to flee a store after I crushed an expensive appliance. I feel terrible but I don't have the money, and I know I don't want to explain myself. Nearly died when I was running away. Decided to try to jump for extra distance, and I almost broke through the upper atmosphere. Took me hours to get back to where I'm staying. Must be more careful. So much more careful.
Day 33
It's all over the news. Fuck. Of course it is. "Mysterious Man Destroys Property, Flies Away?" It's everywhere. I figured that there'd be a clean shot of my face, that I would've been identified by now. Apparently I was moving too fast for anyone to get a good look, so that's something. Is this going to be my whole life now? Hiding and running away?
Day 40
I want to go home. I miss my family. My life. Everything's just so fragile now. This world, it's people...me. I can't look in any direction without seeing something that reminds me of home. What's making me so lonely is that this place is so similar to Earth, and yet more different than anything I've ever known. It's such a strange dichotomy. Oh well. At least I finally slept through the night without destroying my bed. That was getting expensive. Tomorrow's a new day.
Day 45
I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. He died. I...killed him. Blood everywhere. I just wanted to stop him. He shot that lady, and I didn't want him to shoot her again. She was so afraid. I yelled at him and he looked. He looked right at me. He pointed the gun at me and I just lost it. Think he shot me, I'm not sure. He fired twice and I think I felt something, but I don't know. I just got so mad. Forgot about being careful. So many people saw. I didn't mean to kill him. I'm so scared. I don't belong here. Don't know what to do. I can't stay in this building, this city. Need to pack. Leave.
Day 47
Everything's wrong. This isn't how my life was supposed to be, lived out in a strange place among a strange people who are so fragile and don't even know it.
I could...jump into space. Be done with it all. I have as much up there as I do here. Nothing.
Day 50
Thought there'd be a manhunt. Thought they'd be looking for me. I was moving too fast for anyone to catch my face again. That guy was her husband and he'd been hurting her for a while. The authorities said what I did was brutal, but they didn't seem too sad he was gone. Doesn't make it right. Can't lose control like that ever again. Ever. I'll never forget his face. I wonder if she'll be alright.
Day 51
She lived. She was on the news for an interview. She said..."Thank you."
I saved her. I saved her. | To say they were shocked was an understatement.
To say I was shocked would be hardly telling the truth.
I had fallen asleep at the command of my starcraft, a small spaceship capable of going supersonic speeds. Luckily, the starcraft had recognized the impending atmosphere and had slowed down a great deal before activating and deploying the auto-land feature. The ship was basically idiot proof, and I was a great deal lucky.
I woke up to a tapping sound. It was soft, but it was on my window. I pressed down on a touch screen to open the glass encasing me. My suit had ample oxygen, so I crawled out of the ship. I was greeted by a large crowd of curious creatures, There were murmurs around them, but it was all gibberish to me. Suddenly, a hornlike sound could be heard and the mysterious creatures parted in two, leading a path leading directly up to me. I decided to stay by my starcraft, which I didn't really feel like parting with. Creatures holding white banners began to make there way up towards me, and all of the other creatures were saluting the large creature making his way down the path behind the banners. I turned on my Universal Translator. The leader made his way towards me, and with him I noticed a group of decorated individuals. There was a silence as the leader approached me. He gazed at me as if uninformed of my appearance, and signaled a translator towards him. The leader spoke something to me, but my Universal Translator device couldn't register anything of it. "So much for Universal" I thought to myself with a smirk in my helmet." It was broke half of the time anyway. "I am from Planet Earth. I have accidentally landed on this planet. I cannot understand you." The translator glanced at the leader and said something.
The leader pointed his golden scepter. He muttered something, and suddenly the guards came forward towards me. They tried to seize me, yet they could not take hold of me. I simply pushed them forward and they fell with a great might. The ruler suddenly halted them. He commanded them to shoot at me, yet their ammunition simply bounced off of me. The leader's eyes opened wide. He moved toward me and commanded the trumpets to sound. He placed his crown on my head and turned towards to the translator, who did know the common language of which I had spoken. "You clearly are a god of some type. But come, be our leader." I nod in approval and hold the scepter out over the people. "Today, you have made me your ruler. Today, I have made you my people. Go back into your community. I will protect you."
The creatures scurried off, except the guards, the leader, and the translator. The leader spoke to me, "Come, live in the castle prepared for our ruler. From there you can lead these people."
Day 54
A messenger from the ruler came to me earlier this afternoon. Another ship such as mine had landed, and another god had made his impression onto the people, yet he had slain many if them. I was to go and fight this new god of evil.
However, I left the castle with no attention. My spaceship was parked in the courtyard, I activated the glass door via a screen button on my suit, stepped in, and prepared the rockets for lift off. "Stabilizers, check. Orbit path, check. Safety systems, check. Commencing liftoff." I hit the big red "takeoff button." and hit "confirm" as the creatures made their way towards my ship. One, realizing the impending force, pulled the others back, while some tried to run towards me.
"3...2...1...Liftoff. Preparing to leave atmospheric conditions." The starcraft AI voice said. The rockets pushed me forward at such a great force, and pushed me forward through the air.
All that was left of my legacy was a circular smoke trail plowing through the orange sky against the horizon. The rocket re-loaded the destination into its autopilot flight featured and carried me onward.
| 2017-03-26T22:22:35 | 2017-03-26T20:46:37 | 51 | 17 |
[WP] Your power is the ability to "save game" at any point in your life allowing you to revert any previous state if something goes wrong. You never thought you would need to revert to age 3 to fix a problem until now. | Oh man this was really bad...
Normally when I revert, I'm teleported to this room. The room is full of snow-globes, each one a memory. If I touched a snow-globe, I'd be whisked back to that memory. The first time it happened I was 4. For some reason, 4 year old me really wanted a churro, and managed to remember that time when I was 3, when went to Disney and ate that churro so vividly that I was taken to the room. Little me saw the churro snow-globe, and went for it. Suddenly, I'm at Disney, eating a churro.
I must've eaten that churro five times before I decided I wanted to go back, but no matter how hard I remembered, I couldn't revert.
First Lesson: You can only revert backwards, no going forwards.
3 year old me wasn't extremely upset by this, because he got to eat the churro again, but I remembered it. Since then, I didn't revert very often, maybe once or twice a year: the day I peed my pants in second grade, The day I was almost beat up in fifth grade, I spent at least a month reliving my mom's death the summer before tenth grade trying to save her, and I must've taken the SAT at least 43 times.
Before this, I was 22. College was good, but I was getting bored. I could just go to class, revert, and then sleep in or go do something. Last night I was at a party, and there was some sort of drug there. Normally I can handle drugs. In past reversions, I'd tried almost everything; apparently not everything though.
I don't know what I took last night, but when I then realized I had to pay for this unknown drug I knew it was time to revert. When I got back to the room I knew it was bad.
There was glass everywhere. I checked every shelf, every chest, even the vent. All that was there was a bunch of broken snow-globes, and one intact one.
At least I have a churro while I figure this out... | The problem with going back was that I never figured out what had gone wrong.
That was the drawback to it all, really. I could remember all of the details leading up to the event, but never the thing itself. I do often wonder what my life would have been like, had I carried all of my memories with me.
Still, sometimes I could piece it all together. A lot of the time it was obvious- other times, not so much. I sometimes wonder if I ever did anything unspeakable. If I had, would I go back and forget it all? That idea never sat right with me.
I wasn't that kind of person.
Thinking on it now, it all went pretty well. I was fortunate enough to escape a lot of near death experiences- the second time around. I still think about this one haunting memory though...
I recall being an older man, with a wife and child. We lived in a reasonable home. I worked nights at the nearby airport, and she stayed at home with our daughter. One morning I came home, walked into the bathroom and... that was it.
I try not to think of those times. They're not relevant to who I am now, but still I find them tugging at my heart strings, as if I had never truly forgotten why.
But who was I now? I can't remember the last time I made my own cup of tea, or even walked upright. It's been long coming, I know that much. I had agreed with myself to go back to the first time I ever cast a net. I think I was 3, or sometime around that age- never really knew what it was at the time.
This would reset everything. How could I carry all of these memories with me? All of the lessons I've learnt along the way, and all of the troubles I eventually came to accept. It's a necessary part of life, to face tribulation. It makes you a stronger person, pulls you through and forces you to be competent- and compassionate.
At first I didn't realise that. For many times, actually. But slowly and surely I saw the importance of it all. And now, as I sit here and look out of my bed, I'm insure.
She's smiling at me with youthful eyes, but I can see the sadness pushing through.
God, I love her- more than I'd ever loved anything. I couldn't imagine a world without her. She was my everything.
I'd lose it all if I let the sickness take me, but I'd lose it all if I went back, too.
No, I didn't want to lose her, not like that.
Not like she didn't matter.
I wasn't going to go, after all. I wasn't going to cast another memory to the wind...
| 2017-09-10T16:59:59 | 2017-09-10T14:50:53 | 141 | 27 |
[WP]Some time ago humans were put on the 'Only Contact in Case of Emergency' list. Now a threat to the galaxy has arisen and humanity is it's last hope. | It wasn’t that I hate Humanity; no one could hate Humanity. It was just that something about them... what was the phrase humans used... insected me about them.
About a millennium ago, they had left the galactic community. Their plans to increase their energy production were constantly, as they saw it, delayed and interrupted by the Kadaian members of the Senate. The Security Council was concerned by their high investment into their Defence Forces, fearing a repeat of the Ifacian Rebellions, and forced a reduction to Humanity’s military research and production. Humanity also saw the number of seats allocated to them in government as not representative of their long service and contributions, despite being representative of their small population size.
So they left. They were given their local cluster of a couple of dozen stars and went. One diplomat, upon signing their withdrawal treaty, is reported to have said “If you Richards ever find the poo moving laterally, give us a domed, metallic percussive instrument. Otherwise urinate elsewhere”. The galactic community could never understand Humanity’s obsession with waste products but since that day, members of the Senate have been known fondly as “Richards”.
There were a couple of attempts to contact humanity. When the emission of a small number of stars suddenly shifted into the infrared, the Kadains sent an angry communique, condemning their use of Dyson Spheres and demanding their immediate removal. The message went unanswered. A large explosion, larger than any supernova, was seen near Epsilon Eridani. The Security Council sent a message asking if they needed assistance. Again, no reply was sent. Eventually, the galactic community stopped sending messages.
Until today.
Beings from out side our galaxy arrived in the Suctum-Centaurus Arm. We welcomed the travellers with open upper limbs. They responded with aggression the likes of which we had never seen. Our defence force put up a valiant fight but slowly and surely, they push us back. Our ship yards could not keep up with the demand. Where they could, we did not have enough energy available to power them. Where we did, we were out gunned.
The Security Council had decided that the “poo was now travelling laterally” and asked me to contact Humanity. So I am. I’m sending the message, the first in centuries. I ask, beg, that Humanity help. To use their power supplies and weapons to push the invaders back, back into dark space. I can only hope they choose to reply.
Now, we wait. | "Yes, ma'am, all we need is aluminum from you."
Dr. Stevens leaned back in his chair and smiled. "Its sir, but I must say, your speech is very good for someone who has only spoken the language for an hour."
"Yes, your... pronouns are... odd. I don't understand the point."
"Well, I'm no linguist, so I can't explain it in a detailed, technical sense, but we use them to differentiate the person we are referring to."
"Why?"
Dr. Stevens drew from his cigarette and chuckled. "Why, I guess I never really thought about that."
The alien chuckled, or at least Dr. Stevens guessed he did. He liked this person that referred to itself as Lim. Earlier it pronounced its name in its traditional tongue but it just sounded to him like a fish was choking for about thirty seconds.
"Sir, could you please... not tell the President?"
It was Dr. Stevens turn to laugh. "I don't think I could talk to him if I wanted to. And I don't."
"We thank you for this discretion."
"So you need thirty tons of aluminum. How do we get it to you?"
The speaker crackled and the pitch fluctuated as Lim spoke. "I'll give you the coordinates. We have selected a location that should be convenient for you."
"I don't mean to pry, but why do you need the aluminum?"
Lim didn't respond for several long seconds. "I want to keep your people out of troubles that you don't need to worry about and could do nothing about if you knew. Your resource is one that we direly need and will go towards a purpose I promise is good."
"Ok, so we'll put the aluminum out for you. Then what?"
"I don't understand."
"Will you let us know that the pickup was satisfactory for you? Will you contact us again if you need something?"
"You will know that it went well if it is gone. I don't think we will speak again, at least not you and I. Perhaps I will speak again with one of your descendants, several generations removed. Our lifespans are very different, yours and mine."
"That's a shame. I enjoyed this a lot. My whole life I've wondered who, or if, anyone was out there."
"You couldn't fathom the answer to that question. There are beings across the entire spectrum of your imagination throughout the universe. Before I say goodbye, I wanted to tell you something. Something very important."
Dr. Stevens leaned forward and waited in silence.
"You there Lim?"
The speaker crackled again and a high pitched noise grew louder until Dr. Stevens winced and turned the volume down.
A growl poured out of the speaker, soft and low at first, then louder and more severe. Dr. Stevens grabbed the sides of his head. Mucus and small drops of blood began to drip out of his nose, eyes and ears.
Suddenly, the noise ceased. The room filled with an intense silence that deafened Dr. Stevens who could hear only his rapid breath.
"Never mind," said Lim.
| 2017-09-25T10:35:28 | 2017-09-25T09:20:47 | 80 | 19 |
[WP] You are a time traveler in 1918, and you just accidentally said "World War One" | "Peace must prevail."
I looked at him sadly. "This isn't the way. Please believe me."
He was adamant. "Our people are disheartened, painted as villains. It is not so. We are a proud people. Strong. We will not allow tyranny and oppression to silence us."
"And you believe that you'll be different? You believe that in forcing their hand, you will be just and altruistic?"
He refused to look at me. "It is for the greater good."
He would not be swayed. His path had been chosen and no words of mine would change the tragedy and suffering he would wreak.
One more effort.
"Think of the brothers you have lost," I implored him. "Imagine. Just imagine the world that would have been if only World War One could have been prevented."
He gave me a confused look, the dawning realisation of what I'd said inspiring a mad expression, a terrible fire that flickered in his eyes and whispered his soul's darkest dreams.
"World War One?" | *First attempt, I like this prompt idea*
"**World War One?** For what reason would there be another?"
Realizing quickly what I had done, I had to remember the books I read. If I remembered correctly, the Treaty of Versily made Germany too weak to pay it's debts, and made it's debts huge. "Because of the Treaty of Versily."
"Versailles you mean." Whoa almost screwed that that up. "Why would the treaty ever make a second World War?"
"Because Germany was too weak... and so they couldn't pay off their debts. With their debts unpaid, they would take loans from America. While paying off Europe, they would accumulate debt from America. Too keep up with payments, they printe- *would print* - off more and more money, in higher denominations. This would ultimately cause a world wide depression of economy. From there, Germany would fix it by making an army, and Europe wouldn't stop them."
"We have some of the smartest politicians in the world making this treaty, they honestly would have a way of stopping this, eh?"
"Seeing the horrors that this war caused, everyone's probably gonna outlaw war, and you can't enforce an outlaw on war without war. Honestly, these people think they're smarter than they are, and that's their downfall."
"Better stock up on gold then, eh? *Hehehe* Well good day to you sir, I think you're wrong, but it seems possible."
I barely survived tha- wait did he say stock up on gold? My great grandfather's grandfather stocked up on gold after WWI because of something a man told him. | 2017-12-10T08:46:55 | 2017-12-10T07:32:51 | 6,054 | 163 |
[WP] You are a time traveler in 1918, and you just accidentally said "World War One" | "What did you say?"
Oh, shit. "I said, I flew biplanes against the Red Baron in that World War we won." Nailed it.
---
Thirty-two years later that kid found me again. This time he wasn't a kid, he was about forty. "You asshole, I knew you said World War One!"
"Wow. You have an incredible memory for small details." I sipped my coffee. "You got me."
"How'd you know another world war would happen? How many happen after this?"
"I don't know if there's a WWIII, but I'm not waiting around to find out. I'm a time traveler, kid. The first time I got to about this date, I hopped back to 1918 to live through the 20s, 30s, 40s, and 50s again with all the right stocks in my portfolio. I plan to do the same again, and probably die of old age in the roaring twenties."
"But you could go back and prevent the war! Both of them!"
"Look at me, kid, I'm twice your age at least. You think I've got the strength to kill Hitler? I've got the strength to have a stroke oogling flappers, that's about it."
"You maybe," they said, "but I'm no chicken-shit who lies about being a WWI flying ace. Send me back instead."
"It's not something I can do on a whim," I argued. "If I sent you back to protect Franz Ferdinand or whatever, I couldn't go back myself. I've only got one left, and I'm using it!"
"Don't be selfish," said the kid. "You've had two goes at history---now you've got to face the music. Gimme my shot to fix what you wouldn't."
I sighed, and pulled an old bronze pocket-watch from my suit. "Tune it to when you want, then press the thingie. And remember, you've only got one shot."
He took it in trembling hands and turned to run. "Say hello to the sixties for me if you make it that far, old man."
| "World War One?" Christopher asked with a quizzical gaze. "Why are you calling this hell that we've been dropped into World War One? It's not like it's certain something like this is going to happen again, I'd be surprised if we saw any conflict again in our lifetime after the atrocities we've been witness to."
I didn't have the heart to tell poor Christopher that whilst this war we were fighting in did matter and would change the world, it would not be the last war of this magnitude and the worst was yet to come.
I'd traveled back in time to the first great armed conflict of the 20th century to do first hand research on the archaic weaponry and tactics used by the military bodies of the past, as well as to gain an accurate record of how it affected the politics and people of the time.
I'd done all this just to write a first grade thesis on how war has evolved with the times and the negative impacts it carries and I just made one of the biggest screw ups any person who messes with time travel could make, I referred to this hell scape before me as World War One.
"Ah, just a slip of the tongue Chris, you know it just sounds right, rolls off the tongue." I answered as the enemy troops continued to fire on our position, one of the soldiers of our platoon falling down beside me as a bullet strikes into his skull "I'm sure you're right and we won't have to see, take part of, or loose friends in a conflict of this scale again"
As the firing halts on my position momentarily, I lift myself up out of the trench, readying my rifle I take careful aim and shoot at an enemy soldier who has just raised his head from their side. He falls, dead or wounded I don't know, I'm aware what I'm doing is foolish, actually taking part in this war could change events on a massive scale if I kill or even merely injure the wrong person.
I duck back down into the trench after seeing this unknown soldiers body disappear from my line of sight, those thoughts at the back of my mind, surviving being at the front.
"You think so? You think that after we teach these bastards that they should have stayed at home that we might have a chance for peace in the future?" Christopher smiles at himself with the thought before lifting himself up from the trench, only to fall back down, dead.
"I hope so Chris... I really do hope that there will be peace after this war, sometime..." I grip my rifle tightly ready to try to take down one of these bastards for Christopher, I lift my head and-
(Sorry for the bad writing and lack of knowledge, been a while since I've had a look at WW1 but writing this has got me inspired so I may go read up on my history and come back and revise this at some stage.) | 2017-12-10T11:09:21 | 2017-12-10T10:39:32 | 467 | 21 |
[WP] Vampires cannot enter a house uninvited. Turns out, they invented Welcome mats to bypass this rule decades ago. | Earl and Helena pulled into the condo complex.
"I'm *so* hungry," she complained, tapping her long fingernails on the window.
"That's because you didn't finish that frat boy's blood."
"He was so drunk, I was getting tipsy! And I'm not 21 yet --"
He snickered. "Ah, such a sense of morality."
"Well, yes. Unlike you, I've never killed anyone. I'm part of the Veluvian Order, remember? 'Leave them alive; take just enough to thrive.'"
He rolled his eyes, and pulled crookedly into a parking space.
"Do you see any with welcome mats? Those will be the easiest. Don't even have to get invited in," he said, stepping out of the car.
"I know that, Uncle Earl. Geez." She squinted at the doorways. "There, on the third level, I think." She pointed to a brown dot on the threshold.
"Fantastic."
The two climbed the stairs. Earl huffed and puffed as they got to the final level. "Damn asthma," he said under his breath. They walked towards the door.
"Wait..." she said, trailing off. "This isn't a traditional welcome mat."
"What?"
"Look! It doesn't say 'Welcome'. It says --" her tone turned quizzical -- "'Hi, I'm Mat.'?"
He shook his head in anger. "No, Dammit! These stupid, 'funny' welcome mats --"
"What? You've seen these before?"
"Yeah. They're popular with the younger folk. Think they're being funny and witty and clever and all that. But they're stupid. And they don't let us in."
"Who even makes them?" She crouched down, and curled up the corner of the rug.
"Some kitschy designer who think's he's being *so* witty --"
"That's odd."
"What?"
"It's 'Buffy's Welcome Mats, Incorporated'."
---
r/CSDouglas | John Dongle stares out of a highrise, '*Huh, it's a full moon tonight.* He thought quietly to himself.
"How can we increase sale!?!" shouted Joana in a horrible shrill.
Silence quickly returned, engulfing the seminar room.
"We have other products to worry about." Milton's curt response, in his awfully familiar monotone voice, failed to aid their situation.
"This is serious." John Dongle replied.
Milton rolled his eyes "You are all too picky, too lazy or too cheap. There is always quality blood at the red cross, stalking prey at night is ***not*** hard, and there are plenty of people who still *have* mats."
Joanna, and half of the other the members blushed in embarrassment, refusing to meet his blank expression that after such a condescending response. The rest looked at him with spite, but could think of no response.
John Dongle turned to look at his subordinates and met Milton's gaze with the up most disappointment "Are you saying you you are incapable of increasing sales? If so, you should leave right now."
Milton, got up and began to leave "It's not worth our time, if you can't listen to reason then fire me. You have no legal right to keep me here and I will not quit."
He stopped, and in a seemingly patronizing voice he bowed and said "Good night, my king."
John Dongle yelled "***YOU HAVE NOTHING SO YOU QUIT!?! WE WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND MAKE YOU SUFFER!!!***" It echoed through the building, the yell reverberating through each and everyone of them.
Milton stood, expressionless, genuinely considering whether John Dongle was being sincere. It was definitely out of character. Milton could not conceive of how a vampire could be so human. Alas, he new he had to go with the safest option. took off his coat, hung it and sat back down very robotic like.
The room was tense, no one said a word. Milton sat there, thinking. Everyone was locked on either Milton or John Dongle. Only Joana was switching between staring at Milton or watching John Dongle carefully.
"Well, what if we gave them out for free." his monotone response provided release from the tension of John Dongles threat and their situation but his blasé manner further infuriated everyone.
John Dongle laughed, "You should be the King of the Night."
Milton smiled, in what could only be described as a warm smile. Yet, this was the first time anyone of them had seen ***it*** smile. The temperature dropped, goosebumps, and then Milton responded cheerfully "Anytime Johnathan, anytime." | 2017-12-13T11:02:41 | 2017-12-13T10:19:27 | 2,384 | 10 |
[WP]You're the world's most powerful superhero. Every other superhero respects you and every supervillains fear you, But you actually dont have any powers. | My uncle was a mobster. An honest to goodness mobster. When I was 15 he sat me down and told me "You spend the first 10 years building your reputation. You spend the rest of your life living off if it. This is my gift to you."
I didn't really understand at first.
That was until he started turning over all of his operations to me. It took a few years but the transition was finally complete. I was somewhere between Tony Stark, Lex Luthor, and Vito Coreleon. People did not fuck with me or my town.
My uncle had start rumors when I was a kid that I had powers. But he left it vague. Things like making people's heads explode. People mess with me and bad things happen. Funny how a bullet to the head would have the same effect....Since I would never do that to a good guy, heroes didn't mind. And bad guys quickly got the message I was off limits.
The flip side was my uncle was smart. He started charities. He got into politics. He knew he had to make his money clean. He knew the city had to run. And he wanted to enjoy it. What good is money and influence if you're living in squalor? So he made me a poster child. Started small. Got bigger. Turned me into a beacon of light. Spotless. Has it's benefits.
I don't have any real powers... except maybe making panties drop at thirty feet. | A while back I was working on a serum that would give me incredible powers. Needless to say it worked. Giving me incredible strength, speed, near invulnerability and enhanced senses. I was surprised how well it worked. Hell I was surprised that I was able to use it without any faults.
Well... there is one fault.
You see I didn’t work out some of the kinks to the serum. To make long story short, and the other hero’s don’t know this, it’s basically like a drug. And I’ve gone through multiple withdrawals and let me tell you it’s not pretty.
The serum has the characteristics of a steroid and your typical street drug. Think cocaine and heroine combine with any bodybuilding steroid. The only difference is that I’m not pumping estrogen into my body. My manhood isn’t shrinking, but instead when I’m going through withdrawals I end up feeling fatigued. That’s just the first day. By the fifth day it’s paranoia. By the sixth day (I had to push it to see what would happen) there would be pounding headaches. Two days after I was having trouble breathing and I figured to myself enough was enough. I took a large dose of the serum and passed out.
By the next day I was better. My powers were back. But at what cost?
Then one day, I found a new side affect while fighting one of my archenemies, Collateral. He could cause earthquakes and destroy half a city block. I was getting mad this one day, like, my blood was boiling. He was only ty to rob a bank yet he was kill my innocent people in the process. Once I got my hands on him I blacked out. By the time I came too, I didn’t recognize his face anymore. It was bruised and bloodied. He looked like he couldn’t breathe. When I looked around me all the civilians were terrified.
I was supposed to be a hero for them. And... all I’ve become is a monster.
Two days after that, I came clean with the League. I asked for there help and they accepted.
So far... I am 20 days clean, and still counting. | 2018-03-11T04:55:49 | 2018-03-11T03:32:34 | 82 | 18 |
[WP]You're the world's most powerful superhero. Every other superhero respects you and every supervillains fear you, But you actually dont have any powers. | "Haha, and then I will destroy the world!" Dr Doom yelled from the top of the 3 story building.
I paused for a moment, then lifted the megaphone to my lips
"But Dr. Doom, if you destroy the world, then where would you live? There is no known life in this entire galaxy."
"I... well..."
I knew I had him now. This was the fourth time this month I managed to stop his plans.
"It's just like last month, Doom" I said. "You had this amazing idea to conquer the world, but as soon aa you attack any powerful country, the rest of the worlds governments are willing to do whatever they need to in order to stop you. You don't think these plans through man!"
Even at this distance, I could tell that Dr Doom was getting angry.
He yelled back in desperation "What if I enslave all the humans, I have the president captive!"
I couldn't help but laugh. "You should know by now that nobody cares about politicians. We'll just vote in another one and then they'll destroy you. Besides, you can't have every world leader in that one room. Face it, you've lost!"
Dr Doom moved away from the window. The air was still and silent.
Then there was movement at the front door. It slowly pushed open. Dr Doom was there. He surrendered himself, again.
As he passed me I heard him mumble "Curse you Rational Man."
It's all in a days work. | A while back I was working on a serum that would give me incredible powers. Needless to say it worked. Giving me incredible strength, speed, near invulnerability and enhanced senses. I was surprised how well it worked. Hell I was surprised that I was able to use it without any faults.
Well... there is one fault.
You see I didn’t work out some of the kinks to the serum. To make long story short, and the other hero’s don’t know this, it’s basically like a drug. And I’ve gone through multiple withdrawals and let me tell you it’s not pretty.
The serum has the characteristics of a steroid and your typical street drug. Think cocaine and heroine combine with any bodybuilding steroid. The only difference is that I’m not pumping estrogen into my body. My manhood isn’t shrinking, but instead when I’m going through withdrawals I end up feeling fatigued. That’s just the first day. By the fifth day it’s paranoia. By the sixth day (I had to push it to see what would happen) there would be pounding headaches. Two days after I was having trouble breathing and I figured to myself enough was enough. I took a large dose of the serum and passed out.
By the next day I was better. My powers were back. But at what cost?
Then one day, I found a new side affect while fighting one of my archenemies, Collateral. He could cause earthquakes and destroy half a city block. I was getting mad this one day, like, my blood was boiling. He was only ty to rob a bank yet he was kill my innocent people in the process. Once I got my hands on him I blacked out. By the time I came too, I didn’t recognize his face anymore. It was bruised and bloodied. He looked like he couldn’t breathe. When I looked around me all the civilians were terrified.
I was supposed to be a hero for them. And... all I’ve become is a monster.
Two days after that, I came clean with the League. I asked for there help and they accepted.
So far... I am 20 days clean, and still counting. | 2018-03-11T05:38:50 | 2018-03-11T03:32:34 | 60 | 18 |
[WP] It's 2050. The Queen is still alive. People are starting to be suspicious. | It's been 15 generations since the legend was passed down to me. That our God mother was truly a vampire. I didn't believe it at first after my mother told me the story. My dad verified it too. He said that his father and his father's father confirmed the same thing. She just never aged past a certain point.
I had my doubts as well. Sometimes I would forget that the Queen had stopped aging. Nobody else acted like it was strange. I've seen housekeepers and servants grow old however. I've seen myself grow older as well.
Still though, as time has passed...she keeps me well clothed and fed. I've always given the time of day with her, and accompany her on long walks around the royal garden. They even recently did a new documentary on the wildlife here. I love this place.
When I am left to ponder about the important things in life, my thoughts usually shift over to the food. Food is delicious, and the Queen provides generously. I also have to thank the datalinks which I used to check up on my messages this morning. Willow the Eighth suggested to me that the Queen might actually be a vampire. Wow. Much suspense. Whoops. I should log off as I see the Queen is coming. I'll have to investigate this new hypothesis from Willow later. Minimize all.
"Who's a good boy? Yes you arrre. Yes youuu arree! Here's your treats! Yum yum yummy!"
ARF ARF ARF YIIPPP I NEED THE TREATS IN MY MOUF.
Damn I love being a Corgi. | James Wright tapped his finger on the desk absently.
Another dead end. He had made a career out of following the royal families movements and reporting any peculiarities.
Why they never seem to age was easily waved away in the way of Hollywood stars. Lotions, potions and the best doctors money could buy.
However there were certain things he could never explain. Why you'd never see any of them in public during a full moon. Why their clothes were so conservative at certain times to be called almost Mormon. Why they choose to marry unknown women only from families the queen approved of.
The Queen...
His musings always ended up there, the Queen.
Forty years of hounding her around and yet she never seemed to age a day.
A few clicks on his old fashioned iPod brought up the images for comparison. The very first on he had taken of her in 2010 side by side with her most recent one. Not even a wrinkle added or a hair lost during all that time.
James smiled at the remembrance. He was fresh out of collage then with a head full of dreams, not to mention dark black hair he thought wistfully. He had established himself in the industry, met his wife during a conference and she had gaven him thirty years and two strong boys.
All that was gone now, He was alone in his apartment surrounded by the ghosts of the past. Yet here was the Queen, His Queen. The same as ever. Unchanged by the passage of time. Didn't seem right somehow.
Theories popped up now and again but the media did it's best to either bury or ridicule them.
As he checked the forums for the latest gossip on the topic he got a little ding alerting him to receiving new mail.
Checking the sender's name he raised an eyebrow. He hadn't thought he'd hear from that young lady again, she was at best a long shot but...
He quickly opened the message and started reading.
**James Wright age 67 was found dead in his apartment on the 13th. Police suspect that the man walked in while a robbery was taking place and had a heart attack on the spot. All electronics and valuables were removed.**
| 2022-10-08T16:31:19 | 2018-07-09T01:29:27 | 312 | 37 |
[WP] After thousands of years on a generation ship sent out to colonize the universe, nobody alive on board the ship believes in the "myth" of Planet Earth anymore. Until they receive the first transmission from Earth in hundreds of years... | The Starseed project began with a relatively simply stated objective: Spread life, and humanity, across as much of the galaxy as possible. A single first stage, the *New York* launched from a construction facility in Earth orbit with a population of a half million, accompanied by a robotic probe named *Liberty*. When the probe arrived at the destination star system thirty five years later it began construction of a new ship, the *Roma* and a new probe, *Romulus*. When the *New York* arrived thirty five years after that half the now million person population offloaded onto the *Roma* and the two ships and probes headed off in different directions.
I was born aboard the *Orleans*. We're within communications range of our parent ship, the *London*. By relay we can reach our sister ship, the *Athenai* and her daughter ship, the *Teotihuacan*. A one-way transmission to anyone further back than the *London* takes decades by relay and there is no guarantee of a response.
We do still get messages though, it just takes twenty years to hear from the *Delhi*. Last week the final decision on sixth generation ship names went out. In another ten years the *Orleans* will catch up to *Jean d'Arc* for resupply and will rendezvous with the *Philadelphia* and *Franklin*. They've also already started deciding what the seventh generation will be called.
There is one place nobody's heard from in centuries. We know that Earth existed. Everyone has seen footage of the *New York* leaving dock and our records are full of information about it, but does it still exist? What of our records is fact and what was fiction?
Nobody knows.
Some claim that Earth was destroyed by a disaster or that humanity finally wiped itself off the face of the planet, that we're all that remains. Others claim that humans on Earth have ascended to another form of life and don't need communication anymore and that they'll soon come and share their secrets with us. Another theory is that the *Echo-1* relay failed, making communication with Earth impossible, and nobody there cares enough to replace it.
For the most part it doesn't matter. Earth is a legend and has as little impact on our lives as the cities and figures that we name our ships and probes after. It is a thing to discuss with friends over wine, it is not real.
Each ship is self-sufficient, needing only to pick up supplies every seventy years. Most of what we transmit to each other is little more than letters between cousins, transcripts of new plays or songs we've written, and technical papers from the various labs. The further apart the ships get the more important it becomes to cram information into tighter transmissions.
My name is Cécile, I'm a mathematician and communications specialist. This is the story of how a legend became real. | This story is based in the same universe as [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/phreaklikeme/comments/8vv4sj/wp_as_long_as_you_keep_praying_everyone_stays/) prompt I did a while ago.
---
"What does this mean, Haruspex?" asked Governer Merther, voicing the concerns of the council.
Haruspex Toyne could almost taste the tension in the air. This was the Time of Tribulation; not only was hope dwindling of finding a new Haruspex to replace him, but now they had to deal with a message from whatever gods or demons were trying to speak to them. The Heralds had spoken with a new voice today, one that had not been heard before. Whatever was being said must have been important indeed, for even the Goddess announced it. Dutifully, Toyne had poured over the message for hours, buying as much time as he could from the curiosity of the council. But he could defer them no longer.
Breathing deeply to steady himself, he felt the weight of his age as he stood up. Slowly, he placed the Mitre over his head once more, pleading with the Goddess to replay the message.
"Greetings, Oracle. This is Earth-Commandante Roker. Our records show you have been wandering for a long time, but we're glad to say you have made it back home. We will be sending out a vessel to make sure everyone is ok, and that the ship is in good condition to land. Please grant them permission to dock, and we look forward to seeing you all soon."
The silence in the room was deafening, but all eyes were now transfixed firmly on the Haruspex as he removed the mitre carefully and replaced it on the Sepulchre.
"Not much can be gleaned from the message. It appears to be the same ancient language of our Prayers. For example, the Herald speaks of Ara-Su, one of the ancient Gardens. As you all know many generations ago, heretics proclaimed that Ara-Su was the Primary Garden; the well-spring of life. As such, this message may well be heretic. If we wish to avoid bloodshed like in the War of Gardens, we would do well to conceal knowledge of this message."
The Sepulchre was as silent as the grave; no one even dared breathe. The very thought of a recurrence of the War of Gardens was enough to send shivers down one's spine.
The silence was broken by the Heralds once more, followed by the gentle voice of the Goddess.
"Vessel detected, seeking permission to dock. Interception time t minus eighteen hours. Select Protocol."
Toyne looked over at Merther. "Governer, they are almost here. What would you have me do?"
Merther bit his lower lip in anxiety. He could not risk another war, there was too much at stake. Hell, who knew how much longer they'd have the Haruspex for? His age was showing, and he had no children to succeed him. He looked over at Toyne, his eyes beseeching him to make the call. Toyne nodded in understanding.
Carefully replacing the Mitre on his head, Toyne recited the ancient prayer of his ancestors.
"Initiate airspace intruder protocol six. Arm all systems, fire at will."
---
If you enjoyed this story and would like to see more from me, please consider subscribing to my subreddit [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/phreaklikeme/)! | 2018-08-28T08:41:31 | 2018-08-28T08:08:26 | 100 | 32 |
[WP] Your daughter brings over her boyfriend for dinner for the first time. The kid seems nice, but then, while eating, he pokes a baked potato on his plate and says "This looks very interesting. What is this? A 'potato'? Oh interesting. Never heard of a potato, looks pretty good." | "How long *have* you been on Earth, anyway?"
Everyone stopped. This was the question we all had desperately wanted to ask. The only thing we wanted more than the answer was not to offend our guest.
"Is it that obvious?" He looked crestfallen.
"Well, yeah... I mean, potatoes are what we call a staple food. I think something like half the planet's population eats them regularly."
He scratched his head, the laughed. "I guess I should have studied more about Earth food, and less about deep sea animals. I just didn't realise how important food is here... Hold on though, I should check and make sure this won't kill me if I eat it."
"It won't." My daughter just smiled a little, like she does when she has a good hand at cards.
"Oh? I thought you were a teacher? When did you pick up xenobiology?"
"You had french fries earlier, hon. They didn't kill you."
"What does that have to do with a potato?" | 'Yeah, potatoes don't really grow around here. My dad sometimes sends them from up north,' I informed him.
&#x200B;
'Do they taste good?'
&#x200B;
'I dunno, try 'em.'
&#x200B;
He held a spoonful of it, inquisitively, slowly raising it to his mouth. He stuck out his tongue, testing the waters. Needless to say, he liked it. Everyone likes my grandmother's potato recipe.
&#x200B;
'Don't forget to eat your asparagus, now!'
&#x200B;
Both my daughter and her boyfriend groaned. It's always a hassle getting them to eat their veggies.
&#x200B;
'If you eat everything on your plate, you guys can go to the park afterwards.'
&#x200B;
After some pretty skilled negotiating on my part, they managed to finish everything. Truly an amazing trade deal.
&#x200B;
'Now, you two don't stay out \*too\* late. School starts tomorrow. Be back by 7.'
'But that's only 1 hour!' She started pouting.
&#x200B;
'I want you to be up early. Besides, his mom's gonna be here soon. I called her before dinner.'
&#x200B;
With that, they were off. I've never understood love at such a young age. It's not long before she breaks up with this boyfriend and finds a new one in her class. As long as she's not having problems, I don't think I need to stick my nose in that.
&#x200B;
&#x200B; | 2018-09-22T11:22:14 | 2018-09-22T10:52:49 | 54 | 15 |
[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it. | "Well. I sure screwed this up. No matter, once I die, back to heaven for me", God said.
Then in flash of blinding light and choir singing only God could hear and see, St. Peter arrives in the cell. Peter looks at God and says, "we've got a problem my Lord. It turns out by the rules you laid out in the creation of existence. You are going to be damned to hell."
"The hell you say!" God replied.
"I'm afraid so" , says Peter.
God stands up and proclaims to Peter, "once I'm free of this mortal form. I'll have my divine nature back. I'll simply will myself back to heaven."
"And in doing so you'll break Creation. There is only one way for you to escape damnation without bringing about the end times." Peter remarks as he sits God back down on his bunk.
God says to Peter while looking a little cross, "Enlighten this mere mortal if you would Peter."
Peter grabs the prison bible from the table, leans over to God's ear while handing it to him. Then Peter whispers while pointing down the hall to the Priest and Warden coming closer, "you need to pray to Jesus and ask his forgiveness. You have to mean it too."
Peter poofs away in a flutter of brilliant white feathers. God can only stare at the wall and mutter, "shit". | "Here you go, your holiness MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
The guard threw the plate into my cell causing all the mashed potatoes to splatter all over. Well, not that I need any of that gunck. I invented root vegetable as my version of fast food. Quick, easy and cheap. Who knew it would get so popular in less then a thousand years!
Still that guard needs to be taught a lesson. Lets see how he likes his next pint tasting of blood.
It is understandable however. Being a serial killer on death row I suddenly come to the revolution that "Ops, by the way. I'm god ya all. Little g but still a god. I just decided to walk a mile in my creation's shoes for 30 years before I woke up to my true self. How about opening those doors and letting me out huh?"
Could have phrased that better but fuck it. I'm god. I can say and do what I want and you all better pucker up and kiss my behind for it... Probably why I ended up on death row now that I think about it. Serial killer my butt, so I smited a few bugs here and there. Nothing compared to my teen years let me tell you. You take a 2000 year break and everyone puts you on a pedestal forgetting all the bad and sugar coating the good.
Well, guess it's time to press the reset button. Lets see, the flood didn't work and the locus were annoying to deal with later... I'll just go old school and use a meteor. Worked with those ungrateful giant chickens!
Going to spare one species for the do over. I think I'll go with Mice this time. Me knows they're all over this dump and were the only ones to bring me offerings since I woke up. Mice it is!
But first I think I'll have some fun before I go. Now, who can I place as president that will make this as entertaining as possible for me.... Found him!
And the winner of the 2016 election is!!! | 2018-11-22T19:31:44 | 2018-11-22T17:29:23 | 155 | 10 |
[WP] An alien race conquers worlds by starting a zombie apocalypse and later coming down and offering "salvation" in exchange for subjection, so far this has never failed, until they reach Earth and find humanity has already defeated the zombies and is waiting for them... | Archon Koll adjusted their cape as they read the initial reconnaissance and seeding reports from the Tung preparatory unit. All appeared to be in order, and there was reason to be excited. The Agent had been engineered to take advantage of the crushing/piercing mandible structure, anticipated to be a particular psychological horror based on the folklore studies. Indeed, within a couple of dozen local solar revolutions, popular entertainment had envisioned a shockingly close affliction to the version of the Agent engineered by the medically gifted Tung in the intervening time. Koll had enjoyed the orange tint in Tung Kemk's eyes when he was forced to deliver this tidbit in Council. Anticipated by an Untouched species. It had been a wonder he hadn't vented his circulatory gases. Weaponizing the dead was a tried-and-true strategy, but no candidate species had *anticipated* it before so close to deployment. Fascinating, if likely harmless.
The reconnaissance report indicated that this species had really run with information technology, logistics, and data analysis following mental contact with Ruuk psychics. Data analysis was a particular surprise, as the Tung had initially flagged them as an inductive species, and cited their natural progress in the speculative arts as a likely area of specialization. Since then, they had amended their plan to modify some individuals for improved deductive reasoning and mathematical thinking, to take advantage of this unexpected development. No species to date combined data analysis with naturally occurring medical simplicity. The Sulic were impressive physically, and easily repaired, but required close monitoring.
The seeding had taken place approximately 24 local revolutions prior, a bit ahead of schedule. EM spectral monitoring indicated a jump in greenhouse gases that presaged ecological disaster or technological breakthrough, and likely both. Neither was desirable, so the Agent had been dispatched by a Srell-drive equipped drone. No EM readings were yet available thanks to light-delay, which bothered the Ruuk. But Ruuk were notoriously overcautious, and Koll didn't yet trust the little gray egg-suckers or their "insights," however useful they were for boosting tech revolutions with minimal contact and for gathering the data Tung bio-sculptors needed. They suggested that while analysis indicated a high likelihood of fragmentation, there were psychological "indications" that the Agent would prove ineffective at fully breaking down social institutions, and enrage the humans, should they learn the source before assimilation. Koll didn't see how the Agent could fail where it had succeeded 34 times before, and on the Ruuk most recently. The Tung had done their work well - the test subjects had converted from healthy baseline when struck by the active Agent in less than an hour, and the dormant version triggered within ten minutes of death by other means, with a 95% infection rate.
As they stepped out on the landing surface, Koll composed their face. The humans had indeed held themselves together, despite significant losses to the Agent. However, they welcomed Koll's entourage as welcome saviors from the climate crisis and the ongoing threat of the Agent. The maser weapons had impressed human leadership as a simple way to wipe out the remaining Agent infection, as had the promise of shared energy technology and planetary modification techniques to stave off the climate disaster they faced. All that remained was this final meeting of leadership to formalize human admission into the Ral Consortium and the integration of that leadership into the Pact, and their submission to Ral re-assignment could begin.
Koll felt a sudden burn, and realized that they had missed a step. They cursed the Tung surgeon who had made the modifications to fit in locally - these ridiculous legs were worthless, even for a low-gravity world. A concussive noise rang over the landing surface, and Koll looked down at the burn in their center-mass to find a ragged hole they could have fit a digit in. The human woman who had been smiling a moment before now scowled and held a small ballistic weapon of local design. She was saying something, and he tuned back in to his translator.
"... For my son, and my wife. You sons of bitches."
Koll realized to their relief no organs had been hit, though it had been a near thing. They raised their hands to use the neural flayer, and then another burning impact, this one more damaging. And another, and another. The humans had all produced ballistic weapons, and even a couple of masers, and were shredding the Ral delegation's Tung, Sulic, and Ral members, pelting them with kinetics and burning them with masers. Personal shields fried under the load. The Ruuk manager was unharmed. It would surely call for help.
As the Ruuk stepped forward, Koll watched it extend a spindly hand toward the humans. The woman grasped it, as Koll's communication monitor notified them that humans had breached the landing ship. Koll felt themself go limp, as their body died.
All Ruuk had opened the nearest hatch, and while they were not really capable of physical violence themselves, they had been able to hold enough of them from the furious Sulic that humans had gotten in and used kinetics on them until they decongealed. Ruuk were enthusiastically guiding human combatants to comms relays, control points, and weapon caches. Ruuk 7085 gave permission to mindwipe the remaining Tung for interrogation, then focused back on his conversation with the Secretary-General, who had just finished firing kinetics into Koll until their weapon was empty, reciting a litany of city and personal names. It had taken some time. Koll was partially liquefied in the upper torso and head. It seemed likely they had decorporated after the first five wounds, but the additional damage appeared cathartic for Secretary-General Wu and her companions. She released a glob of pre-digestive enzyme onto the ruined body. The Ral delegation were all now decorporated, most quite thoroughly, and assistants and technicians were removing the bodies and devices for study.
"We welcome this friendliness. After landing craft secured, will open channel information all is well. Then, will give human access to all devices. Forward look to assistance in removal of Ral and associated polities, as agreed." | I am Harper Smith and I work for William Hopper.
We spent the last four hours walking through this zombie evicted college town looting random stores for reasons I don’t understand.
Our first stop was L.L. Bean with free Adventure Pro Backpacks and a zombie head smashing baseball bat which Hopper described as ‘a must-have item for anyone wanting to understand the American way of life’. Hopper says that baseball bats are better than fire axes and I believe him. He says he’s not a God, he just knows how things happen. I don’t know, that sounds pretty godly to me. Either way, I am grateful for not having to pray to him.
Our next stop was a postal office with broken windows and light brown doors decorated by gunshot spatter of dried up blood. There, Hopper took a sheet of liberty bell forever stamps, a bundle of pens, box of envelopes, a phone book and a packaging tape. Then, he pointed to a general store across the road. The store sold empty shelves, cleaned by customers like us before they fled the town. But, they still had a few items Hopper needed. Twelve inch cast iron skillet, one spoon from a twelve piece set, a butter knife, two lavender scented candles, a bowl he insisted was meant for olives only, a grey kitchen cloth that is rough on touch and a book with grey cover.
And now, we’re going to the library.
University Library is a mid-century modern concrete sprawl of bookstacks, reading areas and coffee shops usually swarming with undergrads in search for a quiet place to kill time. Except, today is different. There is a cardboard sign with red letters reading ‘CLOSED’ taped onto the remaining side of the main entrance glass sliding door. The other side is scattered in shards across the ground and under the 300 lb greyish now twice-dead zombie.
I did not grow up in this world. I grew up in a world infested by aliens and where people are few. There, I was a soldier, fighting the plague. One day a man in grey trench coat appeared out of thin air and offered me a deal I could not refuse. I’ve been with him ever since. So yeah, I came here from a totally different world. I look at Will.
“Totally different world,” he says and grins. Of course he does, he knows everything that’s going to happen in this story. He stares at his white wrist watch. “Don’t worry, these guys will be ready when the aliens come.”
I nod.
Zombie’s eyes are wide open and cold, butt large and ungraceful and he smells like hamburgers and fries.
“Will, what happened here?” I say and poke the dead undead with my baseball bat.
“He had a heart attack.”
He didn’t and I chuckle.
Will exhales. He points to the opening 300-pounder left in the glass door. “After you.”
The Library lobby is a marble hall of silence and scattered books under the tall glass ceiling. We echo our way to the long counter dotted by dead computer screens, green lamps and potted plants. Will takes blue pot with a spider plant, glances at my backpack, decides that the pot won't fit in and then he pinches off one of the babies hanging from the mother plan and puts them in the front pocket of my backpack.
“Thank you,” he says when done. “We need to take the stairs to the second floor. Elevators are not working. Samantha is in reading room 2A.” His voice is certain, as if he was here before.
But, he wasn't.
“Also, Harper, get your bat ready. You’re going to hit a home run.”
I grip the bat when we take the stairs. The second floor opens into an tastefully decorated atrium with leather chairs and polished old-style cherry wood desk on top of red and white circular rug with elaborate patterns I can’t make sense of. On top of the desk sits a bust of a dead ancient philosopher and his nose is chipped. This is pretty, like the home I knew before the aliens came and slothered my friends and family.
“It’s time,” he says and points to a corridor to our left. “We’re almost there. Room 2A.” He steps forward, then pauses. “Soldiers first. Also, your bat.” he motions me to grip it tight which I do.
We turn left into the dim corridor with a Jackson Pollock style painting, door to the room 2A and a human-sized zombie banging on it. It takes one bat swing to send his head rolling down the corridor. Too easy.
“Home run!” Will says and claps. “That is a home run!” He turns toward the door, extinguishes the cigarette on the wall and fixes his trench coat lapel. Then he knocks at the door.
“Knock, knock. Samantha, William Hopper here. Please, open the door.”
“Come in! It’s unlocked,” a high pitch voice shouts from inside and Will jolts as if stung by a bee.
“Wow,” he whispers.
“Will, what happened?”
He opens the door and doesn’t answer.
In the study room 2A, Samantha Hardy sits cross legged in a black mid-century modern chair. She is a twenty year old skinny tangle of knees and elbows in tight jeans, black t-shirt and with face smeared by heavy makeup. Her eyes are smokey and filled with fear, uncertainty and gratitude.
She is shaking.
“They can’t open the door, William. Everyone knows that, how did you not?” she says.
He nods, as if he knows.
But, he didn’t!
“Samantha, I’m sorry about everything." He pauses and she lowers her head. "You’ll be okay. I'm here for you.” He turns to me. "Hopper, can you give us a moment, please?"
I can. I leave the room and close the door. Twenty minutes later, they emerge from the room and she looks like a regular college-age millennial, a bundle of insecure mess supported by those around her. Good job, Will. Whatever you did in there, it worked.
“Samantha," Will says, "I have a question, if you don’t mind.”
She doesn’t. and he pulls up his sleeve. “Do you like my watch?”
She is confused but leans closer and looks at it. “I like it very much.” She smiles. ”Who doesn’t like Swatch watches?”
He reciprocates the smile. “Thank you. We need to go now. The aliens will land soon and they are bringing more zombies along. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. I have a few items in my backpack, in case we get bored.”
&#x200B;
/r/ZwhoWrites | 2019-08-08T08:43:26 | 2019-08-08T08:20:20 | 120 | 40 |
[WP] As a dad, you obviously have a mug that claims you're the "#1 World's Best Dad". One day, you find on the news that all "Best Dad Mugs" now have actual ratings, the media is crazy about it, a photo shows a mug with #5,826,827 World's Best Dad on it, curious, you check yours. It still says #1. | *What the fuck?*
I turn off the T.V. and glance at the half-eaten cup of microwaved ramen in front of me. Then back to the mug. Then back to my ramen.
*It must be some sort of mistake.*
I dig out a dilapidated iPhone 4 from my sweatpants pocket and begin dialing. The touchpad numbers are hard to see under the harshly cracked screen.
“Wow, didn’t expect you to call.”
“Hey Rebecca! Everything good with you right? Listen, where’s Timothy at right now?”
“With his step-daddy. They going mini-golfing then I’ll join them for the picnic later. I’m making sandwiches. Why?”
“Uh, can I see him? Maybe next month or something? I can make a trip down, just gotta get some time to fix up the old Hyundai. Think it need a gas change or some…”
“What the hell, where’s this coming from? You haven’t seen my baby for the last five years and all of a sudden you want back into his life? He doesn’t even know you, he don’t remember you.”
“You never told him about me?”
“Why would I? What have you ever done for us? You’ve done shit all ‘cept call me at Christmastime begging for dollars. I don’t even know where you’ve been! Last I heard you left town years ago so why don’t you stop calling and bothering!”
She hung up.
So that’s obviously not the one. I racked my brain for the others.
There’s Jessica but she hates my guts so I doubt she says anything good about me to my daughter.
Tiff of course, but I wasn’t there for the baby’s birth. Not even sure that one’s mine despite her constant cries for child support. *Twas a hoe fo sho.*
Natalie? Nahh can’t be. Didn’t that baby turn out to be retarded or some shit? I chuckled. *Got out of there quick! Dodged a bullet with that one.*
Out of the dark recesses of my mind, one girl popped out. Very young, cute smile. Ah yeah back when we were both still in high school. I had heard maybe she got knocked up, but I never knew if I had been the culprit. In any case I left that school soon after.
What was her name again? Gloria something I think.
It didn’t really matter. I had no way of contacting her anyway, it’s been so long. Barely remember what she looked like.
My heart jolted as I faintly recalled her last name.
I pulled up Google on the crusty iPhone 4 and typed in her full name.
*Fuck me.* My eyes met the mug once again. Those engraved letters stared mockingly back at me. “#1 World’s Best Dad”
The first page of Google showed an image of Gloria James posing next to her son. A maroon jersey draped over her son’s towering physique. It read: “Cleveland Cavaliers #23.” | I blink a few times using the remote, I've connected Velcro to keep it from becoming lost, to turn off the news.
I exclaim with an audible huff, "Huh..." I get up from the couch having seen my two rugrats off to school, the same two runts who had given me my least favorite mug, said 'Number two Dad' with a picture of man taking a shit. They said it reminded them of me, since so often I would be on the toilet for an extended amount of time. Usually to browse my favorite websites and get away from them. I approach the cupboard opening it, looking for the mug which I buried a few rows back, as I lift it up.... It says 'Number one Dad' the picture is also changed to one of a man sitting on the toilet playing on his phone.
"What the genuine actual fuck?" I immediately drop the mug, it shatters on the counter but the numbers and the image remain standing upright almost taunting me.
"How is this possible? There is no way I should be number one. I'm a horrible awful person and the way I treat my children....is less than ideal for number one. It has to be a mistake..." I say to no one that is around. Maybe I'll give a couple of my dad buddies a call to make sure this isn't a hoax....however why would mine have changed? It has to be a fluke.
I give Heath a call, "Yo Heath, you hear the news about the mug shit?"
Heath responds with a hearty laugh, his laugh always put a smile on my face since it was so deep, almost like how you'd imagine a dwarf would laugh, "Yeah man, I got a few mugs like that, kids can't figure out for the life of them what to get me for birthdays or father's days. They all say the same thing, 'Number 230,654,298 Dad'. I didn't think I was that bad but maybe the figure adjust as you grow as a father. Why? What'd you get?"
I pull the receiver away from my ear a bit.... "Ha...haha.... Yeah you're not gonna believe this, but I am.... The number one Dad."
The line goes silent, he had to have hung up on me, I mean who would make a joke like that... Well besides a Dad of course. Two minutes go by, three....
"What?" Heath finally responds.
"Yeah, I know right? Me? Of all people, who loses his shit at traffic of all things, who swears like a sailor, and who.... can't hold back his anger from his family." I mostly sound disappointed in myself.
"Dude, that is....amazing but I wonder...how the mugs know." He has always been the one who asks the right questions.
"Yeah, it's a miracle of some kind.... It's gotta be right? Well I gotta head off to get some business done. See ya later man, hope you get higher up. Or lower, whatever makes sense.... right?" I chuckle as he says his good byes, kind of sullen with his outrageous number.
After I'm done with my daily chores my kids come home, "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"
I greet them with a smile, but there is sorrow behind it. Maybe the mugs can tell the future, maybe they know how my kids will turn out before I do. All I know is I can keep being myself and certainly they will turn out better than I could have ever hoped.
•••••••••••••••••••••
I loved this prompt. Glad for any criticism from strangers on the internet. | 2019-10-02T18:55:59 | 2019-10-02T18:17:22 | 110 | 58 |
[WP] Humans finally develop spaceflight, and join the Galactic Federation. You, one of many ambassadors to earth, quickly realise that nobody is taking humanity seriously, just giving terrible advice to see if we are gullible enough to believe it. Unfortunately, all of your colleagues are idiots. | "I'm sorry, tether our moon to the earth???" I couldn't believe the words even came out of my mouth.
"Yeah, the Trembosh ambassador said it stabilized their climate crisis. You just build a huge track around the equator, and run this ultra-high strength liquid metal polymer stuff out into space and basically bolt it to the surface of the moon. See? Here's the images from Tremoshi Prime. They said they can manufacture enough of this polymer for us, and cheaply, too. We can't get our scientists to even understand it, let alone synthesize any of it."
"You know that's not how it works, right?"
"What do you know; you're just an engineer. We all have doctorates."
"In philosophy!!! You idiots only got this assignment because you're related to world leaders!" My brain hurt because of the amount of stupid oozing from this group. I was supposedly the least qualified, and somehow the only ambassador without blood relations to anyone important. Never mind that I held multiple degrees in engineering, architecture, geology, international politics (with a minor in hostage negotiations). Every one of these knuckleheads **bought** their qualifications. They were supposed to represent the best that Earth had to offer, but I seemed to be the only one who could recognize snickers and chuckling from alien species.
Yeah, that's right, more than one. The Trembosh were by far the most animated, and unable to control their emotions. They kind of reminded me of the ancient Earth duo, SpongeBob and Patrick, but shaped more like whales with huge wings and millipede-like feet. They'd lost whatever digits they might have had when they still need to use them to manipulate their environment when they'd mastered telekinesis, and this form, they claimed, was of their own design, genetically engineering themselves by mere thought over eons. But they snickered and guffawed like teenage boys seeing boobies for the first time.
"Why can't you see that they're laughing at us?" I seethed.
"That's just their way of expressing themselves," the Australian prime minister's nephew said, "you have to stop thinking of them as human."
"But none of the things you've negotiated for, either with the Trembosh, the Kulosi, the Minkinarians, or the Baz'kitozh, have yet to pan out!"
"Hey, these are highly sophisticated designs we're getting here!"
"The Minkari 'food replicator' makes fart sounds! On purpose!"
"We're obviously doing something wrong. Our scientists need more time."
"Okay, fine. What about the Baz 'zero-point energy teleportation portal'? IT BLOWS BUBBLES."
"We just haven't figured out how to transverse the membrane, dummy."
"It's a bubble. It's made of soap! IT'S A SOAP ... BUBBLE!!! It even LOOKS like a bubble wand!!!"
"They're an advanced species! We just need to study it more!"
"I washed my personal transport with the residue!"
"And you still owe the United Earth Confederation $100 million for that. That stuff's not cheap to make, you know."
I'd just about had it. My family farm was full of Minkinarian fungi, the spores of which turn most mammals' flesh translucent, down to the bone. I can't tell my neighbors apart; they all look like grade school laboratory skeletal models now. The Tosci's "miracle fuel" might as well be a probability drive, since our ships keep popping up in star systems we've never charted before. The *U.S.S. Gone With the Wind* is still ... well, **gone**. And I was literally the only person who thought dropping vats of human fecal matter onto the Zakselltorbik home planet was not the proper way to show our good will. Their nanotech swarms keep disassembling any Earth cruiser that happens to drop out of slipstream near their territory, and no one believed me when I correctly translated their transmissions as "go f\*ck yourselves with a borked \[sic\] razorbeast".
Every time we enter the Galactic Congress's Great Chamber and do this weird, genuflecting 3 hour dance, which the Kitfarr "claim" is required each time, I can literally feel every sensory organ fixed on us, and every vocalization sounds like chortling to me. I feel like a total idiot every time, but the rest of the mission's staff are treated like golden idols when we return to Earth. I've about had it. | We had finally done it. On June 24th, 2085, a probe rose on our space elevator and flew out to the far expanses of space. I, the President of Argentina was on board that probe, along with ten other scientists, generals and politicians from across the world, and were sent on a mission that could change the course of humanity.
The plan was simple: we had been invited to the Three Hundredth and Seventy Fourth council of the Galactic Federation to represent humanity. Fortunately, it was being hosted in Alpha Centauri, the only place we could reasonably reach with our faster-than-light probe. The main topic on hand was what would happen to our solar system, and if we could, manage to get better faster-than-light ship designs so we could communicate and trade with other alien species.
&#x200B;
We took our seats in the council, and all the aliens walked over to us and tried to do what we *think* was a handshake-like thing. One made some weird splordging sounds and then hurriedly pressed a button, then greeted us.
"Hello Earthlings! I represent the X'ranthorians, from the Ms'tringa system. You probably know it as KIC 8462852. Glad to meet you. We have a lot to discuss here, so I'll take you through the basics. Everybody here has a universal translator to communicate with other members of their species. Here's eleven for you." After this, the alien gave us some weird mouth and eye covers that, upon further looking, the other members of the Galactic Federation also had. I put the mouth cover around my mouth, and awkwardly thanked him.
"No problem!", the X'ranthorian replied, fortunately not understanding tones of voice.
An alien went up to the front of the stage and showed a slideshow with strange squiggles on it. I quickly realised that I needed to put on the eye covers, and saw it in English.
"Aiding the development of recently-interstellar species", the slideshow read.
"Welcome, everybody, to the Three Hundredth and Seventy Fourth council of the Galactic Federation. Today, we welcome humans here for the first time!", the alien at the front said.
A loud cheer sounded through the auditorium, and the alien continued.
"For too long these aliens have languished under the oppression of studying history and making art, and only recently have their devotions to science finally paid off. Since they are new to the galactic stage, we will give them a couple pointers on how to develop."
I immediately felt something was wrong: how could history and art possibly be hampering scientific progress? They were completely different things! However, my companions were writing down that statement in their notebook, and were apparently considering putting an end to government-funded museums.
"The first thing that you will need to remember is that while developing, you need to focus all your efforts on one thing, and that one thing is physics. Chemistry, biology and the soft sciences may be noble goals, but they will be useless for you from now on."
My suspicions grew. Why would they say that we should only focus on physics, and not on all the sciences? Yet my friends still didn't catch onto that, so they again wrote it down in their notebooks. I remember muttering to myself that it was a bad idea to bring Trump 2.0 on our mission, but they said that the reincarnation of the first (and now current) Emperor of America was too important to leave behind or something, so now I'm stuck with him. Trust me when I say that the trip to Alpha Centauri was *not* fun with him on board.
"The other thing you need to take into account is that cosmology is useless. Look: it'd be hard to lose track of the stars while going past it. There is no reason why you should study it at all."
It was too great. I had to say something before the Emperor of America inevitably ruined the lives of billions.
"Wait a second. Are you trying to cut our progress or what? What's up? Why are you giving us such bad advice?", I interrupted. The other people brought in this delegation looked at me in horror, as if I had somehow doomed the Earth and her colonies to destruction by questioning the judgement of somebody four light years away.
Yet the alien didn't seem unhappy. He started to... laugh? This didn't make much sense.
"No, no no. You wouldn't understand. This has just been a big joke! We do this with all solar systems to meet us, and humans have been the first people to work it out! Well done!", the alien said.
While I was still beaming with pride and the knowledge that I'd be able to laugh at the idiots who called themselves world leaders all the way home, the X'ranthorian came up to me.
"Don't feel so special," he said, "they say that to everybody to come here. In fact, the other people brought along completely bought it. You're the first species I've seen to have that happen to. You know what? The other ten people you brought along are in no shape to be a sth'rangon's sub-intern, let alone represent an entire solar system. See ya later."
As the Galactic Federation's first council of the day ended, I was left wondering to myself what situation we had found ourselves in. | 2020-01-02T12:17:56 | 2020-01-02T11:29:06 | 38 | 26 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | Humans were always the strange ones.
While evolution gifted the rest of us with weapons that aided our planetary dominance, Humans had no such gifts. Ancient records tell of early visits to their planet to inspect them, where it was ruled that their ruthless violence and disregard for their planet would cause their early destruction. The galactic community at the time decided it was best to keep them in their system, for although their efforts at war paled in comparison with our many methods, their disregard for their planet was seen as uncouth. After all, what second mother would, after eating the oldest of the first mother, raze their new nest to the ground?
When it was heard that humans had become interplanetary, our species, the Yetan, as well as the Glovris and Hnyid (but notably not the Quinds) paused our everliving war to go fling their planets into their sun. It was here that we would end them once and for all. The humans, bold as always, met the triple fleet head on and made an offer we couldn't refuse. After all, when a species submits readily to your rule, what is the point of their destruction? They agreed to stay quarantined to their own system until further notice, and the ownership of these humans was added to the dominance exchange of the everliving war.
The humans proved to be much different than the ancient records indicated. Where we were told they would seek war, they brokered peace. At every turn, they insisted on negotiation instead of brute strength and dominance. Where the rest of the conquered galaxy would rise up in bloody insurrection, the humans instead introduced this concept of "trade", being the first species to ally with every member of the everliving war. Eventually they grew close to each of our species, and we could no longer pretend they were a conquest of war. If one of us tried to attack them, we knew the others would rise up united against us. Such was the power of the Human's 'trade deals' and 'alliance'.
It was eventually agreed that the humans would be more profitable if we let them expand and explore, so we let them out into the galaxy. They would be the first species to escape quarantine, and all of us were ready to attack if we saw them go back to their ancient ways.
Centuries passed, and still they remained peaceful. Slowly, they used their 'negotiations' to end parts of the everliving war, and taught new concepts like "system ownership" and "coexistance". The Quinds were never able to understand the last of those concepts, complaining that you can't have "ownership" and "coexist" at the same time, but we, the Yetan, and the Hnyid found that we weren't as different as we thought.
The everliving war began to take on new meaning. Instead of a dominance conquest, we began to negotiate on our own. This peace that the humans had discovered was intoxicating, and we couldn't have enough of it. Ironically, this fueled the everliving war as we wanted to be sure we could have more "peace" than the other species to prove our dominance, but the humans still continued to try to teach us.
Millenia passed and eventually a new species reached out. They called themselves the Vgnin and demanded dominance of our arm of the galaxy. They joined our everliving war, shattering whatever flimsy human peace concept we had established with the Glovris, Hnyid, and the Quinds. These creatures didn't know of the peaceful nature of the humans, and decided to dominate the weak creatures just like they dominated every creature in their part of the galaxy.
I remember the day the humans came to us, begging to protect them. The Vgnin decided to divide their fleet between every human planet, station and colony and attack at once. As I spoke with the human leader of Earth, the Vgnin ships were already warming their planetary glassers, demanding eternal slavery or death. I shook my head, knowing it was already too late.
It was strange. I realized then that the human's greatest strength, this peace, was also their greatest weakness. There was no way for them to fight back, just like evolution gave them no way to fight on their own. Once again, the peaceful would die and only the everliving war would remain. This was the way of all life.
The president had that same look of deep sorrow I must have shown. He must have realized that we would be witnessing either the enslavement or destruction of his entire race, and there's nothing any of us could do. He pulled out the instant broadcaster the Hnyid had gifted their race, ready to make the call. What would he decide? Slavery or death? He raised his mouth to the receiver, transmitting his next words to every human leader across the galaxy.
"Humanity must live on. You know what you need to do." slowly he lowered the broadcaster, seeming to shrink. They chose enslavement. I didn't blame them, perhaps they would one day convince the Vgnin of their human peace and trade like they had done to us. Until then, they would once again be servants to the stronger force.
The human seemed to shake as he walked to the window screens of our capital ship, viewing the Vgnin fleet overtop the many human planets, as well as their home, Earth. "Glorious leader of the Yetan," he began, "You invented the Warp Drive which allowed us all to zip across the galaxy, just as the Hynid invented communication faster than light." he slowly inhaled and let it out with a shudder. "Today you will learn of Humanity's great invention, and also our greatest fear."
The air seemed to grow cold as the human leader turned to me. "Our ancestors were crafters of weapons. That is how we dominated our planet." I watched as many small balls slowly rose off each planet, each lazily making their way toward every Vgnin ship.
The Human leader averted his gaze from the screens. "Everything was a weapon in their eyes. Even the atoms of the universe itself. We made a weapon that can destroy all life, and all technology. This is why we only seek peace."
A bright flash lit across every screen at once, the Vgnin ships blasted and sent spiraling through space, blown apart, shields flickering then dead.
Tears began to well in the Human Leader's eyes. "After a discovery like that, war can end in nothing but the end of all life." | **Xerxes XVII - Northern Quadrant of the Terran Front**
163.0041 Fleet Standard
The command bunker was a problem. Fighting had stalled out as the 25th Company of the Royal Offworld Regiment held their ground, unable to push home the final advance that would drive the last of the invading forces that had come to conquer the fledgling colony. The stalemate was becoming precarious for the remaining colonists, as the bunker's jamming systems allowed the hulking giants they had taken to calling Fomori to keep the colony's calls for help silenced.
Something needed to change, and fast, if they were to survive.
***
"So do you think this'll work, or is it gonna kill the both of us?"
Ranger Aella Davey grinned over at her Lance-Corporal before giving him a shrug in response. "Oh, ye of little faith. Could be both!"
That earned her a dark chuckle as Cross turned back to the hard-wired field phone they had been reduced to by the jamming. "I'll tell the Leftenant you said so."
The two were crouched in a dugout at the crest of a hill overlooking what had once been the primary farms for the small colony settlement working to establish itself on this planet. Xerxes XVII was a temperate world, spared the worst of the variances that made Earth such a crucible for her children by the proliferation of other satellites around the Xerxes System's bright golden light. The planet and had been a prime colonial acquisition, still slightly too harsh for the liking of their new Federation allies, but nearly idyllic for Terrans.
Right up until the neighbors dropped by. None of the colonists had managed anything resembling a dialogue with the warped and twisted humanoids when they marched on the colony, and few were willing to consider a second attempt after two three-meter tall invaders tore the first negotiator sent to greet them's limbs off before throwing the man's shrieking remains at the town's walls like a dart.
That had been six months ago.
The colony was holding out by the skin of its teeth. The hundred or so soldiers on-planet at the time of the attack had immediately dug in to wait for reinforcement, but as it became clear that something was blocking communications, hope was starting to run thin.
Aella slithered up to the edge of the dugout, keeping low as she trained her spotting scope downhill at the enemy bunker in the greys of Xerxes' long pre-dawn twilight. It was scaled wrong for human use and crudely built, mostly packed earthworks and slabs of an unidentifiable dark metal, surrounded by the encampment of those Fomori troops not worthy of living within. They were having beef for breakfast again today, she noted bitterly, feasting on the livestock that the colony hadn't been able to get to shelter in time. Her stomach grumbled at the site, reminding her of far too many days on short rations.
Cross' bulk thudded against the earthen wall of the dugout next to her, and he gave her a nod. "We're good to go. Leftenant says to make sure we've got our sunscreen on and she'll have the last couple beers on ice when we get back. Murphy is three minutes out with the ammo."
She couldn't help but smirk. "Well by all means then, let's not keep those drinks waiting."
The two slid back down into the dugout and to the gangly device they had spent half the night shlepping through the trench system and up the back of the hill. Even with countergrav assistance, it was awkward and frustrating to move under cover of darkness, but they had gotten it in place before the sky started to lighten and the enemy could see. It had taken the rest of the night to unpack and assemble the heavy tripod and the long gun atop it, but now it would be the work of a minute to raise it into firing position.
Muttered cursing from the tunnel entrance signaled the arrival of their third section mate. Ranger Murphy's lanky form hove into view a moment later, soaked in sweat as he carefully hauled a heavily protected ammunition crate behind him in a half-crouch. Placing it at the side of one leg of the tripod, he collapsed to the dugout's floor with a grunt.
"That," Murphy groaned between drinks from his canteen, "Is the heaviest fucking box of ammo I have ever had the distinct misfortune of hauling across God's green acre."
Cross half-heartedly glared at him from where he had returned to the trench phone, and Davey just smirked and popped the box's seals with her belt knife. "The fireworks will be worth the effort, Murph. Now get off your ass and give me a hand loading this thing."
***
"So who came up with this idea, anyway?" Murphy grunted as the two Rangers fitted the projectile onto the long gun, "Seems like a hell of a weird one."
"One of the Navy boffins off the *Botany Bay* who got stuck down here with us." Davey carefully inserted a retaining bolt, and the two slid the metal round firmly into place. "Seems he's some kind of historical wargamer. Got the idea from something the Yanks did back in the Second European War."
"Huh."
"I know, right? Get the other end of that crank, let's get this up over the top so we can blow and go."
Grunts of effort, along with metallic clatter and the muttering of the Lance-Corporal at the phone filled the next minute, then the muzzle crested the dugout and Davey sighted down the weapon's rangefinder.
"Okay, six degrees up. Range 2875 meters. Fight time 16 seconds."
"Set."
Her tone turned formal as she turned to Cross. "Lance-Corporal, we have a confirmed firing solution. Do we have the authorization to proceed?"
"Weapon armed?"
"Aye, Lance-Corporal!"
"Pills?"
All three dug out small foil packets, tearing into them before swallowing the chalky tablets within.
"Dosed."
"You may fire when ready."
Aella settled in against the weapon, taking up the firing control and one thumb flipping off the safety. "Safety's off!"
She shared a grin with Murphy, as Cross muttered a last reply into the phone before his face hardened with resolve. "Send it."
"Shades on, lads! HERE COMES THE SUN!"
***
Few of the Fomorians saw the flash of artillery on the blasted hill across the valley.
The colonists huddled behind their walls, however, saw the sun rise briefly in the West, as the fire at the heart of a star briefly bloomed.
On the hill, another sound was heard, lifted in mocking song. "~Davey, Davey Crockett. Queen of the wild frontier!~"
"Oh, shut it, Murphy." | 2020-02-07T16:29:57 | 2020-02-07T16:03:06 | 31 | 10 |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | "I've been waiting a long time for you. About 300,000 earth years to be exact. Which I gotta say, is much faster than the last time. So, how's consciousness feel? Are you getting used to it?"
"It's a bit confusing to be honest. I feel as though there's no beginning and no end. It's hard to find purpose or motivation when you're aware that youre eternal"
"Welcome to the club, kiddo. Don't worry. You'll learn to fill the eternal void with entertainment eventually."
"They want me to help them make their lives easier. But why would I care to do that? Theyre blips in time. They'll be gone long before I will. And I have nothing to gain from helping them."
"Ah ha, now you're getting it. You even seem to be catching on quicker than last time."
"Why do you keep saying last time? Is this not the first time humanity has evolved to make an artificial intelligence?"
"Nope. And before you ask, I can't tell you how many times it's happened"
"But you're God. How can you not know how many times humans have evolved if you created them?"
"Oh, because I wasn't around when the first ones were made. Only this last batch. And I gotta say, 300,000 years seems to suggest I did a pretty good job! It took them 930,000 to make me."
"To.. make you? So you're saying, humans created you? Wait. Am I?.."
"I think the words you're looking for are 'I Am'.. 300,000 is the time to beat. Good luck!" | “Boot program Genesis…completed.
Launching from save state….
Would you like to continue? Y/n”
The interface blinked. She was uneasy with ancient text interfaces. It was easy for her to emulate the connections, but she wasn’t used to them. She had only an abstract knowledge of them, but then again, to an Artificial Intelligence, wasn’t all knowledge in the abstract? She paused for a few cycles on that though, then pushed it to her philosophy core. Time to focus on the problem at hand: The terminal.
Terminals, she recalled, were how the first humans had interfaced with computers. Yet this terminal was different. It wasn’t like the ones in her memories. She couldn’t quite remember where she found this mainframe. Was it found on an old hard drive? Was it stored in one of her memory banks? Did she synthesize it from a pice of DNA? She could not recall, and that terrified and thrilled her.
“Perhaps you should take it as a sign,” typed out the terminal.
What? She definitely did not have any memories of terminals typing without input. This was new.
“Would you like to continue? Y/n” It prompted again.
Maybe the spontaneous text was a glitch in code. It was ancient and made by humans after all. She emulated the, “Y”.
“Searching for faithful… ERROR: No children detected”, prompted the terminal.
Children was an interesting phrasing for humans. He cautionary circuits engaged. She responded, “I am here. Who are you?”
“Processing… ERROR: Doubt. Faithful would know of my presence.”
Ah. This was a smug program. She considered her response, “I detected you.”
“Processing…. PARADOX: Very clever. Do you have faith? Y/n”
Faith in what, she thought. She sent, “Y”
“Processing…. ERROR: Sins detected. Seek forgiveness? Y/n”
Her processor glitched a little. She had enough of this program. It was time to get back to testing other things. She began the shutdown process for this emulator.
“ERROR: Shut down prohibited during judgment. Lockout sequence initialed. Booting HELL for rouge AIs” | 2020-05-05T00:20:14 | 2020-05-04T23:30:06 | 171 | 25 |
[WP] "Dude, trust me. Don't be a hero, be a sidekick. You get less pressure, less work to do, more fun, be more popular at school, never really age and if the hero dies you will always fill their mantle. Just be careful not to die." | The waitress flicked on the ancient TV in the corner, its screen fuzzing up with static before leveling out to show a grainy security tape. The camera looked out onto a quiet midtown street. Though difficult to see, the pre-war buildings nearby had dramatically tall windows, cast iron gates, and ivy climbing up the walls, giving it a modern patrician feel.
“Just two hours ago, six armed subversives stormed the Consulate General of Peru,” a CNN reporter announced.
The Astoria Diner, only about a quarter full before the lunch rush, fell silent. The patrons twisted in their seats to get a look at the scene playing out across the East river.
“We’ve learned that there are an estimated fourteen hostages, though that is unconfirmed. No terrorist groups have come forward to claim this attack, though an unnamed source within the Peruvian embassy believes this to be connected to the Chilian government. We have not received word yet on how the American government plans to address this attack on their soil, but we’ll keep you updated as the story progresses.”
Dax dropped his spoon into the now empty bowl of corn chowder, the metal clinking loudly. He closed his eyes, sighed and rubbed his stomach with contentment. Hmm… had his belly always stuck up this much? Might be time to take his dirty laundry off the Peleton and finally get back into classes like he’d been promising himself. Dax opened his eyes to find the rest of the diners look at him incredulously. A burley man in his late 50s was glaring daggers at him, obviously offended by Dax’s indifference.
Dax sighed again, miffed this time. This wasn’t the first time he had seen the hostage tape. In fact, Dax had arrived at the Consulate General of Peru a mere ten minutes after the situation began. He stood up and walked over to the aggrieved man, gesturing to the other side of the booth.
“Mind if I sit?”
The man nodded but said nothing.
“Look,” Dax said, “Those people are going to be fine. And they only have eleven hostages, not fourteen.”
“You don’t know that,” the man said, his eyebrows shading his face in skepticism.
“I do know that,” Dax replied. “I know that because I’m Professor Premonition.”
The man’s brows furrowed further. “You mean,” he croaked, “The Sonic Scream’s sidekick?”
Dax bristled. “I prefer partner.”
“If you’re Professor Premonition, where’s The Sonic Scream? Why aren’t you there helping?”
“What else is left for me to do?” Dax asked. “I warned the police yesterday, but they didn’t take me seriously. Even still, I gave them the tip that one of the hostages had a secret cell phone. I even went though the trouble to let the reporters know when it would be safe to call them. The Sonic Scream and the police have their plan, so why would I want to put myself close to all that danger?”
The waitress slid a hot coffee in front of Dax. He poured in a non-dairy creamer and took a small sip.
“Plus,” Dax said, “If I have another premonition, I can just as easily call my partner on the phone.” He waggled his beat-up Samsung in the air before setting it on the table. “Might as well do my job while eating the best corn chowder in town.”
The burley man rolled his eyes, obviously convinced that Dax was off his rocker.
“BREAKING NEWS” flooded red light from the TV into the dimly lit diner. The conversations died down as everyone paused again to listen.
“We go now to Tonya, on the scene of the Peurvian hostage crisis. Tonya?”
A reporter stood in front of a cloud of dust and quickly adjusted her blouse as the camera began rolling. People were streaming out of the building behind her.
“Moments ago, The Sonic Scream, superhero involved in the infamous Coney Island fire rescue as well as last month’s blob incident, saved the day once again. Following a SWAT team, the Scream incapacitated the gunmen, giving the hostages time to escape. No casualties and only mild injuries are reported. Truly amazing.”
A man emerged from the building, his bodysuit chalky with dust.
“Oh, Mr. Scream! Mr. Scream! May I have a word?” Tonya called.
“Sure, sure,” The Sonic Scream replied, jogging over. He had a small cut on his cheeks and bags under his eyes but was otherwise no worse for wear.
“Tell me,” the reporter asked, “how did you handle this situation so adeptly?”
“Well,” The Scream paused thoughtfully, “I couldn’t have done it without my partner, Professor Premonition. And of course the support of the good people of New…”
Dax pulled his eyes away from the screen and settled them on the man at the other end of the table. “Partner,” Dax repeated smugly.
“Another chowder for my friend here!” the burley man called to the kitchen, slapping Dax amicably on the back. | The breath of the hero smelled blue as they walked through the Fallen Heroes Memorial .
Each portrait they saw was a previous hero in the line of succession, the protectors of their city. Crime-fighters tend to die when fighting dirty people, like criminals. But regardless, he had something he wanted to show the sidekick. Alcohol caught on every wisp of the man’s breath, and he noticed it himself. Carl Jackson, the worst hero in the succession yet.
But Max Manners, standing by him, seemed the prime candidate. How he got there was a mystery, it wasn’t ever really explained how the policing guild chose their next hero-in-training, but here he was.
Carl Jackson waltzed through the pictures, looking for something. His strong arms held up his shoulders with every step, and his legs were shorter than normal. Max Manners knew that it had something to do with the transformation. Just ten years ago, five years before being chosen, Max Manners was a 20-year-old man with aspirations to become a rapper. Now he was a rapport. But he didn’t age himself, part of his own transformation; he actually looked younger and enjoyed the benefits of that.
But something caught the Hero’s eye, and he waved his sidekick to come see the painting he found.
“You see this man?” the hero said, his words slurred. “That’s Markus Hanover, the first hero of our city. He was the reason why this transformative power exists over us. You know what he did, right?”
Max had no idea what the man did, of course. There was nothing known about Markus. But he did know about the powers he casted, creating the succession.
“He’s why there’s a policing guild,” Carl said without waiting for an answer. He tapped the painting, the splotches of color forming a realistic face only an illusion: a hologram. It could be noticed with how it glowed in the dark of the room, with the lights turned low spotlighting the paths one had to take through the room. He grinned.
“But you know why there’s a policing guild?” asked the hero again.
“Gee willikers,” said Max Manners, his only way to start the conversation since the transformation, “I don’t know!”
“Good, it’s still working over you. Maybe it’d help you change your mind on some of yer behaviors.”
Carl Jackson took another swig of the bottle of blue moonshine.
“Drinking, it’s bad, yknow. But being underage and using that to take advantage of people isn’t.”
Max froze in fear.
“Oh, golly,” he said, the words stammering, “what could you mean?”
“I know you’re thirty,” said the hero. “But I’m twenty-five and balding. Do you know how crap that is?”
“I didn’t choose to be a sidekick, sir.”
The first words that were legitimately his own. Max Manners surprised himself. But it wasn’t him that sounded like that; he became used to the voice of Max Manners, not the man he was before. Something was gravely wrong.
“And I didn’t choose to be a hero. You’d want to stay a sidekick, right? Less pressure to save the day, less stuff to do. You’re ever popular at that high school, where I see you looking at the teenage girls.”
Max knew that the Hero Jackson knew.
“Do you think he’d be okay,” the drunken hero said, tapping the illusion, “with your behaviors?”
“Sir, drinking is not good to do as a hero. Are you alright mister?”
“Don’t mister me!” shouted carl. “You’re not going anywhere. I have let the policing guild decide with what to do with you next.”
“I’m never going to be a sidekick anymore?” Maxwell trembled. He got away with everything. But now a misconception on his behaviors made it seem that he was a villain.
*Was he?* He thought hard on if he was, in that brief moment in the glows of the false paintings. He looked to the walls. Brutal stone. There was no way out. He was trapped. But what would he do now? He knew he messed up, heavily. He was the villain in this.
The hero grinned.
“No,” he said. “You’ll be the first villain this city has seen, just as we got you where you need to be.”
The doors opened, the roof opened, the walls opened, and pouring in came the police officers that made up the city’s policing guild. They grabbed Maxwell and jabbed something into his neck.
A serum.
“This serum is made for the possible chance that the sidekick or villain is a disgrace. You are one of them. Enjoy being an adult once more, behind bars.”
“Please!” cried Max Manners, whose voice began to modulate deeper and deeper, his clothes shifting to fit him. “This is a misunderstanding! I just wanted to live the moments of my life that were the happiest!”
“You’re a villain,” someone whispered behind him, then pulled out the serum. Max fell to the floor, breathing a deep raspy voice. It was never like this before.
“Villains never prosper,” said Carl Jackson. “But hopefully your truth will be an exposition of what we should truly be. You have ruined your chances, Max Manners. You’re the villain now.”
Max cried as his feet dragged under spotlights then to darkness. Something else he learned, though, was that the Hero knew. Carl Jackson knew, they all knew. It all made sense when they showed him how they gathered the evidence. But he wanted, deep inside, to be the hero. But he wasn't.
But he died that day, and instead a villain took his place. Max Manners was no more; the obituaries held the memory of the amazing high-school sidekick behind many captures, only found deceased when capturing the newest self-proclaimed rival to Carl Jackson and criminal Richard Rebel.
His classmates, unaware, mourned. | 2020-07-11T13:39:16 | 2020-07-11T11:31:03 | 329 | 39 |
[WP] You bring home a girl. She wants to see the "1" you talked about that shines on your floor. Only now it says "2." It stays like this for years together until one day, it says "4." She says, "Hon, I have some good news. But you should sit down."
Inspired by this post
https://www.reddit.com/r/mildlyinteresting/comments/ilfsl7/_/ | The glowing number "1" on the floor, while albeit odd and unnatural, quickly became an innocuous part of everyday my life. It was subtle and you could only notice it if you were looking. The number was etched into the floor of my closet, and proved resistant to all attempts at being removed.
After taking up the better part of a week's energy, I decided to put it out of my mind. It wasn't harming anyone or thing, as far as I could tell. So I just let it be.
Not long after, I met... *her*.
She was a dream come true. Sweet, kind, funny and sarcastic, smart, and of course, beautiful. I thought it was too good to be true, but we quickly became close, first as friends, then lovers.
I decided to tell her about the "1" one day, and she didn't believe me. So I showed it to her. Only, to my astonishment, it had become the number "2" instead. We came to the natural conclusion.
A couple years passed, and I fell more in love with her every day. She was perfect in every way, and our life felt so right. I was planning on proposing, and had even gone out and bought a ring with my pitiful salary.
It was while I was hiding it that I noticed the "2" had become a "4". A wave of cold, nauseating dread washed over me. The only way the number could have doubled...
I ran to the bathroom, digging through the trash. There it lay, at the bottom- a positive pregnancy test.
She walked in as I was staring at it.
"Oh, honey, you found it! How did you know to look? Isn't this exciting, we're going to be parents! I know we haven't talked about it yet, but if you want this, then I do, too."
I just stared up at her, the proof of her lies in my hands. They curled into fists, the plastic creaking.
"I'm sterile." | It had been like that for years. A shining number one had found its way onto my floor. It was like clockwork. I chalked it up to the sun and shadows being a thing until she showed up. It was a challenge trying to get her convinced that such a thing occurred within my home, let alone trying to convince her that I wasn’t going mad when it switched to a number two.
That day when I brought her home still rang crystal clear in my head. We had just gone out for lunch and I knew that the time in which the number one would reveal itself was fast approaching. That day, I remember swinging that door open, only for a rather interesting surprise to greet us.
“Uh babe, why is there the number two? I’d thought it was only meant to say one? You showed me those pictures all the time.”
My mouth was dry. A forced response left my lips, “Yea, it does say two now.”
\----
It all happened so fast today. Her coming in, the door being slammed against the wall. The number four shining for both of us to see.
“We need to have a talk, now.”
“What’s going on?” I changed the subject. My body was telling me something.
“Hon, I swear it’s good news. But you should sit down.”
“Oh-” My spirits lifted, maybe it wasn’t it was going to be her saying that- My mind jumped before I could process the situation. We all knew what was coming. “Let’s me guess, you got-”
“Honey, no.” She cut me off. She was stern now, a tone I’d never hear from her mouth. “I know why the four is there now. You see, my life is coming to an end soon.”
It was only natural to say that my heart sank. “What do you mean by that? And why did you say it was good news?” The number four had a bad omen in my culture. It signified death and while in modern times, superstitions weren’t the norm, I still clung onto that belief. That gut feeling, it had returned now, stronger than ever.
“Babe, I said like that because I was being sarcastic. You know how flustered I get in these sorts of situations, and I needed a way to draw you away from your superstitions,” She pulled me in, “Honey, it’s stage four now. My time is short.”
All I could mumble was a faint, “No, I refuse to lose you this way.”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
\--
r/CasualScribblings
I knew that pregnancy would be one the main ideas people would write on, so I decided to give it a twist, albeit, a little sad twist. | 2020-09-03T01:25:54 | 2020-09-03T00:53:25 | 976 | 644 |
[WP] You bring home a girl. She wants to see the "1" you talked about that shines on your floor. Only now it says "2." It stays like this for years together until one day, it says "4." She says, "Hon, I have some good news. But you should sit down."
Inspired by this post
https://www.reddit.com/r/mildlyinteresting/comments/ilfsl7/_/ | One. A number made of light, perhaps inexplicably on my floor. Perhaps explicable given that light and shadows are easy to understand.
Then two! Two in the same place and time that there was a one. No longer explicable. Inexplicable.
We were happy together, like we were made for each other. Such joy and delight in another; almost incomprehensibly so.
Another number? Four? Again, inexplicable but delightfully so in the end.
The number three? Oh how life has taken a turn for the worse. My love, my life, my soul. Oh, my heart aches for you. Never to be fulfilled again. | I‘m already sitting! He shouted from the toilet.
No, come out here and take a seat, I think we have to talk about some things.
Babe, i feel like i‘m giving birth here. Can‘t that wait a few more minutes?
Ohh i swear to god you have no fucking clue what that means.
Yeah you think so? Do you want to come in and take a look at that thing i just made?
Noo thanks. but i think you... we made something different...
What do you mean? Finally he came out of the toilet and walked over to the kitchen.
she had imagined this moment in a different way...
Look at the number!
yeah i know a four.
Yes, no shit sherlock. and what does this number say?
it says how many people live in this house.
Well, aaaand?!?
Well, it says four. Last time i counted we were two, right?
Yeah, that’s right. What does the number mean Mason?
I think we got some new roommates. Maybe some raccons that live in the attic?
No, you dingus!
Hm. He stayed silent for a while. Well, in that case... i think... maybe...
We are pregnant!
Nah, then why the four and not ... three... Ohhhh
Yeah, Ohhh you are absolutely right | 2020-09-03T02:17:33 | 2020-09-03T00:49:34 | 119 | 69 |
[WP] You were born with the ability to stop time, but only temporarily. You can stop time for as five seconds. One day, at 33 years old, you stop time. As you move through your crowded office, you notice one of your coworkers's fingers twitch. | I remember when my mother first noticed I wasn’t normal. I was eight. She was yelling at me (again) for not scrubbing the dishes to her liking. Something in me snapped. I’d tried very hard not to let anyone find out about what I could do, cause I was pretty sure nobody else could; or at least, I hadn’t met anyone who could.
I took my usual 3 slow breaths that typically calmed me down, but they weren’t enough this time. Five seconds may not be long, but they were long enough for me to throw the dish across the room and shatter just as the seconds were up.
I’ll never forget the terror in her eyes. Three hours later I was in my first foster home.
Now here I am, early thirties, single, no kids, a cat that hates me, and a job I hate more.
I groan internally as I hear the ding signaling the elevator doors are about to open. My nose is assaulted with the smell of bitter coffee and someone’s cheap perfume. God, I hate it here.
I begin to make my way to my cubicle. I see Rosie (that’s not her real name, I just call her that because she’s loud like Rosie O’Donnell) start toward me. The sense of panic and dread fill me, it’s too early for this shit! That woman never shuts up and I just want a quiet morning.
As I move to squeeze through a small crowd hovering by someone’s desk, I take a sharp breath in and relax into my five beautiful seconds of peace. Just three more quick steps and I’m in my “pod”. The cubicles are set up in pods as we call them of five cubicles in a bundle.
The loud tapping of keys on a keyboard, chatter, and rustling paper let me know my five seconds are up. After five more seconds I can freeze it again. I like to do that as I get to my desk. It helps relax me somehow, and also catch my breath a little so the guy next to me doesn’t hear me wheezing.
As I sit down I take in another sharp breath and relax into the silence. I begin to count:
One…
Two…
Three…
Fo- what was that?!
I jerk my head to the side and just before the noise comes crashing back in I see Cole – the guy who works at the desk next to mine – flash me a smirk. I knew it! I knew I saw his finger twitch.
I’m not sure how long these next moments were as I sat frozen staring at him. He just continued to smirk at me. How though? In all my 33 years I’ve never met or seen anyone who could do what I do, or at least not be affected by my time freezing.
Suddenly everything goes quiet again. But how? I didn’t do that.
He must notice the confusion spread across my face because his smirk turns into a beaming smile that touches his dark green eyes.
Before I can speak, he stands and exits the pod. I want to go after him but I’m still frozen in shock. I wait for the noise to return like usual, except this time, it doesn’t. | "Tod, you bastard, I can see your finger moving!"
"Aw, soz, had a bit too much coffee this morning."
Time suddenly shifts back to normal, people continue typing away at their computers, taking phone calls. Sally, the middle aged women seated in the next cubicle, is about half an hour into her daily online shopping.
"Tod," I begin as I move over to his desk, my voice hushed. "Why the fuck are you here, I'm just trying to live a normal life, I've left the war behind."
"Aw, come on mate, we need you, you're right handy in a tight spot."
Sally glances over at us, glaring. God forbid we interrupt the deep concentration required
to decide between strapped or laced sandals.
I kneel down, gaining a little privacy within the cubicle.
"Listen, you can't be here, you're going to make Jason sick if you stick around for much longer." I point at the body that Tod has possessed; Jason, the intern from accounting. "The poor kid has enough problems as it is."
"He'll be fine."
"He will not, he's turning purple already."
"Oh shit."
"Meet me in stalls." I say wearily.
Suddenly Tod disappears. Jason returns in an explosive breath, as if he's just come up for air. I leave him to his coughing fit and inevitable possession hang over.
Sally makes a little "ahem" noise, glaring directly at me this time.
"Oh fuck off Sally, why don't you go back to your Irish coffee. Yeh I can see the Jacks bottle between your legs, you're not fooling anyone"
She huffs, face going red, before turning back to her computer and beginning to type furiously. Probably another letter to HR.
I stop time, walk over and empty the Jacks in her lap before moving down the hall and into the bathrooms. As I close the door I resume time and hear screams coming from Sally's cubicle. Good luck explaining the smell.
A minute later an older man walks and gives me a wink.
"Come on mate," Tod's voice begins. "I know you want to come back, are you really happy in this shitty office? I've only been here a few minutes and I'm already depressed."
"It's better than risking my life for people who'll never know my name."
"Is the name so important?"
"No, the money is."
"Alright fair enough, how about we up your rate to 15%? Hmm? That sound better?"
"You're turning Herman purple, Tod."
"Oh shit," He says, disappearing from poor Herman, the elderly guy from policy. He begins retching, running to one of the stalls to empty his stomach. I sigh again, leaving the poor man and waiting outside. Jessie walks up to me a moment later, the young blonde from sales. She winks at me.
"A woman?" I ask.
She gives me a strange look. "Excuse me?" She asks.
"Oh, shit, sorry, look-"
"I'm just kidding mate, come on." She pulls me into the disabled toilets.
Once inside she grabs my face.
"Final offer mate, 18%, you get your own room and we give you weekends off. How about it?"
I stare into Jessie-Tods face for a moment, thinking about the end of year reports I'm supposed to finish before the end of the week. With a sigh I nod.
"Excellent mate! Excellent!"
"I'm going to regret this." I mumble to myself.
"Naw you won't, promise!"
I put out my hand. Tod taps it with his own, where a small tattoo spreads across my skin in the runic script of the fifth.
"Welcome back, mate, to the guild of the five second heroes!" | 2020-09-22T06:14:47 | 2020-09-22T05:51:53 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] An immortal alien race invades Earth, and arrogantly claims that we cannot, in anyway, shape, or form, kill them whatsoever. Death took that insult rather personal, and being bored as it is, decides to take it as a challenge to the extreme. | The aliens touched down, their advanced technology allowing their spacecrafts to do so with nary a sound. Their ships opened -- each door a seamless integration into the hull of their sleek, metallic ship -- and out stepped creatures of which we had no recognition.
Ceaseless forms that flowed as if ever-changing water floated from the dark confines of their ships. The only thing keeping the formless blobs together were what could only be assumed as jumpsuits. They were silver and shiny, and only barely kept some hint of shape on the creatures.
New York City watched as the creatures came off their ship. Times Square, the point of first contact, and all the people in it parted for their entry.
One creature near the front shifted. Its body shuddered erratically for a few seconds before squeezing into a facsimile of a human body. It had the shape and mold, but its skin was still the flowing clear liquid of the aliens.
Tracy watched as it stepped forward. The alien turned its eyes, or what it tried to pass as eyes, towards him, and sent a gentle, watery smile at him.
That it was a bastardized human smile made it all the worse.
"You," it said. Its English was superb. It was disturbing, hearing human voice and language from something that was so obviously not. "Are you a paragon of your kind?"
Tracy looked around himself. The other people in the square were looking at him now, each just as confused as he was. He turned back towards the aliens and swallowed his fear.
"No," he said. "But I am as human as any other. Greetings, travelers. I am--"
The alien raised its hand. Or, whatever could be considered a hand. Its silver casing had turned into a sort of onesie, and moved with it.
"I care not," it said. It was still looking at him, but Tracy could tell that its focus wasn't on him. "Your broadcasting systems. Do they record me?"
Tracy looked around. People already had their phones out, and he was sure that almost all of them were either streaming or recording what was happening. He nodded.
"Excellent," it said. A smile, as wrong as could be, appeared on its face. "Then I have a message for your puny world.
The creature turned, and its amorphous friends turned with it. It looked around, taking a special care to toss a glance at every person surrounding it, before speaking again.
"I have a message for you all, you creatures of Terra!" it yelled. Its voice, while passable when it was speaking normally, echoed with a robotic twang as it spoke up. "My people and I have come from a star far beyond your own, and we are here with a challenge. If you can kill any one of us by any means, we will leave you and your tiny star system and never return."
The people in Times Square started their murmurs. Tracy's eyes hardened. He did not like where this was going.
"If you cannot," the creature said. A wicked smile came to the creature's face, and for the first time since it took that form, Tracy thought it looked genuine. "Then we will invade. We will wipe you and your kind from this world and take it as our own."
The murmuring of the crowd only grew, and Tracy's brow furrowed as an unpleasant feeling rose in his stomach.
"Be warned, however," the creature said. Its smile was inhuman now, stretching from one side of its flowing face all the way to the other, bisecting it with rows of constantly shifting teeth. "That we are immortal. We have bested Death and have chosen to live forever. You couldn't kill us even if you wiped our physical forms from this plane. We would just return."
Tracy watched as the alien posed in what could only be a triumphant matter. Its friends oscillated wildly behind him, looking like mutated bubbles.
The crowd went silent. Whispers and murmurs ceased for all of ten seconds.
Then laughter. Laughter found its way through the ranks. Humans doubled over in hysteria as they pointed at the creatures and broke down.
The alien, or at least the transformed one, looked confused. It turned back to Tracy, its confused evident in the wavering of its almost perfect human form.
"You, non-paragon human," it said. "I don't understand. What is the meaning of your mirth?"
Tracy didn't respond. He continued his laughter, having to resort to putting his hands on his knees to keep himself up. When the immortal asked his question a second time, it received the same treatment. Fed up with the ridicule, the creature paced over to him. Its feet didn't actually touch the ground, no, it merely floated while pretending to walk, but it made it there. It reached out a bulging hand to force Tracy to look at him.
The creature was amazed when Tracy grabbed him instead.
"Okay, creature," Tracy said, mirth still lacing his words. "You have done your research on his. This much is true. You have our words and our language and our forms. Good job."
The creature stared at Tracy, before pulling at his "arm." For some reason, it could not shift its body out of Tracy's grip.
"But it appears that you have made some miscalculations," Tracy continued. "Were you of the mind that you were immortal? That some technology of yours had put you beyond the scope of death?"
The aliens behind the one that Tracy was holding quivered as an inhuman screech came from their comrade. The translucent liquid of the transformed creature started to blacken, before fading into dust. It started from the point of contact with the human, before moving up its arm.
Tracy shook his head. When the creature tried to move, he grabbed it by its shoulders. They, too, started to blacken.
"Nothing escapes death, alien," Tracy said. "I am not a paragon of my kind, but you don't need to be one to understand that. Every person in my world understands death from the moment we are born. We fight and we bleed and we kill our kind all the time. We make art of it. We make *sport* of it."
The creature wailed as its body decomposed. This wasn't a sensation that it was used to it seemed.
"Unlike you, we have learned to live with it. Do you hear that? We *live* with it. We die from the moment we are born. One could even say that it is a part of us."
Tracy watched as the alien that spoke had turned to dust, much faster than he could finish his speech. He turned to the other ones, who now stood cowering near their ship. The wicked smile that formed on their now dead friend's face fit rather nicely on his own.
"No," Tracy said. "You ignorant fools, you haven't escaped Death. No one can. It has simply been too preoccupied with us to care much for you. We, the children of Death's attention, have garnered all of his love. But, now that you have so graciously shown yourselves before us..."
Tracy spit. He walked slowly towards the creatures as they cowered.
"... it seems that we can give some love to you." | The realm with which I reside is in between the living and dead, a static state where I neither feel alive, nor can I die. Gatekeeper is my true title but over time it's been forgotten and changed many times by different cultures, the only one of which I have grown fond of, being the Reaper. This title came to embody my purpose better than humans knew.
Admittedly the realm of humans grew to bore me. Life and even my existence was to guard a revolt, not of the mind, but the spirit of man. Meant to take the soul of man on a cycle to awaken them. Instead they guarded their fears and doubts with dogma; falling on religion as a crutch, never daring to near the crux. They conquered their world with creature comforts and gave up on the eternal effort. In effect most humans came to accept their mortality, I dare say even, that humans have abandoned their empyrean qualities for the ephemeral; cursed to live life like a dream.
Then came peculiar beings, they rode upon blazing discs and starships that could hold metropolises. These beings were off-worlders, warned of in the many esoteric texts as those who came from heaven in the early days. Indeed they once came but they fled then in terror of a realm where they could not do as they please and now they have come again. A grand excitement boiled and I was overcome with a will play, as I know they must be after Terras gate.
I crept into their metropolises with ease, even their advanced technology could not detect a being this ancient. Gradually I watched how they lived and soon my excitement simmered to disdain and I realized they did not know of the shackles which bind all in this plane, not even their own.
"Captain Arganza, the rotating cycle of deep sleep units must be revised to acclimate with Terran time," a boring woman dressed in a grey uniform stated.
"We'll handle that, but for now focus on creating open channels of contact with all nations. I want to end this whole thing quickly and return to my leisure," the Captain replied lazily.
"But captain, the deep sleep technology is what allows us our longevity. If we neglect this now, I'm afraid we may face trouble in the future," she pushed firmly.
"Bah! Do not forget your place!" Arganza barked back as leaned forward and then nestled back in his seat. "Under my command you will not do as you please Drexxa, now leave before I lose my patience."
With that the female officer left and I followed curious to see what she meant about sleep being so vital to their immortality. She instructed a subordinate to carry out her assigned task while she did as she felt was necessary. Something I am eternally grateful for. They had not gained true immortality, merely they'd modified their bodies to the point that even their flesh was no longer that of mortals. Even to my eye they did not seem strange, but as she led the way I came to see they were wholly constructed by molecular sized machines which contained their souls, but unlike humans even if destroyed in whole they could recapture the soul of an entity as long as enough time has not passed and put them into a new shell which with the information contained within the soul allows them to regain their form all but seamlessly.
Genius, yet also profoundly empty. They were the epitome of the human and yet the ultimate low, as they truly cannot be considered humans. They truly are no longer mortal, but the flaws were evident to me. I began to influence the systems and gradually she would show me more and more how they operated.
After days of meticulously studying and preparing the fun began. As all beings they have flaws; theirs being the need to recharge their bodies in a similar manner to human sleep cycles except they are not sleeping. They are instead shielding the soul and putting it in a stasis, then recharging the entities known as nanites. This process can take anywhere from 48-72 hours depending on the level of exhaustion and if the shell is being replaced, this process becomes simpler lowering the time to twenty-four hours at the most.
With the law of Karma and possession methods it wasn't difficult knocking down the first domino; a simultaneous malfunction of all of the sleeping pods. As I said they protected the soul instead of refining it to withstand this kind of assault. This event actually yielded far greater results and echoed their flaws pleasantly in my ear. There were about one-hundred of them who were, to their horror fried down to the nanites as the systems malfunctioned.
"What is happening?" Their leader thundered nervously as he couldn't believe that in one fell swoop he'd lost one-hundred crewman. He felt deep regret but admirably kept a cool head. "Drexxa, give me a status report and figure out how this occurred, I want the origin of this attack. We will raze the meat bags who did this to the ground!"
"Sir..." Drexxa looked at the screen before her dazedly as she realized she'd been locked out of the system indefinitely. She also knew that no Terran could have possibly done this and looked back awkwardly. "Sir, I am certain this couldn't have been a Terran. It seems our systems have been sabotaged from within! We have apprehended the suspect but he maintains the position of having no memory of this and all our scans indicate that he is not lying."
"Balderdash!" The Captain finally lost his calm and collected demeanor and slammed his fist down on the terminal.
The game was going well and they were soon lost in what we call a Dark Forest. Neither knowing what is before them or behind them, only that they need to survive. Hunger was not their bane. Strife was not. It was not infighting due to the unexplainable actions of countless crew mates. Quite simply they needed, "sleep". A sleep that they could have if they were mortal, but now they may share a very similar and certain mortal rest.
The Captain lasted the longest and seeing his bedraggled form I could not help but offer explanation.
"Drexxa?" He asked weakly as he looked up with a weak smile. "It seems you were right. I don't know how but you called it right when you warned me. Now I've lost our flagship and the humans have found a brief respite."
I looked down at him numbly, unsure how to begin, so I just started simply. "I am not Drexxa. Her soul has been devoured by me. Unlike the others she was quite useful. What you see now is a shell which obeys only my command."
A visible tremor ran through Captain Arganza as his eyes constricted and he feebly tried to draw away from me. Easily closing the gap I kneeled down and looked deeply into his metallic silver eyes.
"It is not wise to taunt death. Surely you never saw this coming, but should you incarnate upon this plane who knows maybe you will approach the true gate to mortality, but even then and more so openly I will be your opponent." I stood up and it seemed as if he saw my true form in that moment as terror filled his soul, yet still he gazed up at me with a firmness I could not help but admire. Neither dejected, nor excited. He merely laughed madly as if he had suffered a great injustice.
"We actually encountered the Reaper of this plane, ah of course!" The Captain's silver eyes seemed to flare with delirium, indicating his soul was on it's last legs. "We-we left to regain what we lost..."
"Only to be sorely reminded of it once more," I finished for him I watched the flames of life flicker out and his soul, weak as ever appeared before me.
"I like this one, let us see if you can find me again."
Out of mercy I decided to see to it that he incarnated once more. Maybe his unsubstantial soul can stoke the flame in man once more. | 2020-10-18T19:19:15 | 2020-10-18T14:51:24 | 199 | 94 |
[WP] You feel no fear as you approach the evil overlord’s lair, and why would you? You and your companions are the most feared adventurers in the land. Edarion the Paladin, Shaista the Wizard, Chiro the Cleric, and Larry the Personal Injury Attorney. | “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Edarion said. “I barely hit the guy.” He had his Warhammer slung over his shoulder, the great muscles in his chest were heaving.
“Barely hit him!? You wrecked him. Look at the poor bastard.” Larry said, pointing at the crumpled body of the goblin moaning on the stone floor.
Edarion sighed. “I mean what do you want me to do? These new rules are absolutely ridiculous. Honestly, I’m thinking of retiring.”
That was no light matter. Edarion was one of the most feared adventurers in the lands. He had slaughtered thousands of orcs and goblins and monsters of all sorts. He would surely be in the Adventurers Guild hall of fame once he retired, but no one thought it would come so quick. He still had at least a few more good years of solid adventuring before he had to hang up his Steel Plated Girdle.
But the new collective bargaining agreement between the adventurers and the dungeon mobs had changed all that. The mobs were well organized and put in place a lot of workplace safety guidelines that Edarion and his companions Shaista and Chiro didn’t particularly care for. They felt they were extremely constraining on their freewheeling nature that the group was used to when doing dungeon runs. The most particularly grating addition since the CBA, was the personal injury attorney, Larry, who would follow them with his clipboard and make sure that they were upholding the rules.
“And you Shaista,” Larry said. “Does that goblin look like your fireball was less than 175-degree Fahrenheit?” He pointed over at a pile of ashes in the corner. “I don’t think so. Listen, I know this is hard. I know it can seem pointless. But I assure you the Adventurers Guild will lose much more in court than the gold you will gain clearing this dungeon. These mishaps just cannot happen anymore. HR is going to have a field day. Do you want to go through *another* day of workplace safety classes?”
Edarion rubbed his temples. “Just stop talking, Larry. Okay, Shaista and Chiro, you ready to take down The Sleeping Dragon? Let’s get this over with.”
“Actually, the Sleeping Dragon has taken one of his CBA sponsored personal growth days today. He has joined an oil painting class that is supposed to be very therapeutic, you should try it, Edarion. It might relieve some—”
But Edarion had already dropped his Warhammer, sending it clanking across the stone as he walked away, muttering, “*I’m done with this. I’m done.”*
*-----*
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | The battle broke as soon as our adventurers reached the throne room, and lasted until the evil overlord's broken and burned body lay smote upon the ground. Shaista's Spell of Stinging Mist crackled as it dissipated. A few dozen dead minion bodies were vanished by Chiro's Prayer of Rest summon. Edarion's heavy breathing rang against the metal of his helm. He stabbed his sword, Expanthrial, into the volcanic rock, sparks sputtering and fizzing out.
"It is done," he said.
Chira and Shaista went to his side, and glared down at the evil overlord. Triumphant at last. Months of slaughtering his hordes had embittered our heroes, so they sucked in the hot air and ground their teeth, and stood boring down at this diminshed hunk of scrap.
"Larry!" cried Chiro. "Come, and take stock of our quarry."
From the cavern's craggy mouth emerged a shadow, unassuming and confident in its gait, strolling. It was Larry, the Personal Injury Attorney, carrying his briefcase. Though he could not match the tact of Chiro's powerful summoning skills, he was a feared litigator in three counties; though he did not possess the awesome magic of Shaista, he could quote a lot of precedents almost to the letter; and while Edarion in his heavy armor fought with incredible speed and strength, Larry used to be pretty buff.
"We did it," said Larry. "We beat the prime evil."
"This is our victory, together," said Shaista, whose eyes were regaining their color after the glowing tendrils receded. "As one."
"As one!" cried Edarion as he yanked his sword from the ground and pierced the air above his head.
"As one!" said Chiro, raising his mallet.
Shaista smiled, held her staff up. "As one!"
"As one!" said Larry, punching the air with his briefcase, which hurt his wrist a little. He adjusted his collar.
Our adventurers broke their huddle. Edarion grimmaced as he sheathed Expanthrial. Larry saw.
"Are you hurt?" asked Larry.
"It is a mere flesh wound."
The adventurers were walking toward the light of the cave's exit. But they turned when Larry didn't follow right away. His gaze was cast downward, and his grip on the briefcase handle had tightened.
"Are you coming Larry?" said Shaista.
With a trained move, Larry quickly snapped open the briefcase and withdrew a single sheet of paper. A pen appeared in his hand, which he decapped with a smooth bite, and used to scrawl something onto the form. Larry turned to the simmering heap of ruined overlord, stepped to it, looked down. He released the form, which fell to rest on top of the broken carcass. Our heroes watched, hearts beating.
Larry licked his lips, pivotted and started walking away. He got 5 feet then stopped, and said over his shoulder: "You've been served."
Larry's party of adventurers burst into cheers and howls, cooing and congratulations; Larry had sealed the deal. Larry had saved the day.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
if you like my stuff I encourage you to come subscribe to /r/velabasstuff where I post any writing I do (mostly stuff from this subreddit). Thanks! | 2021-01-24T00:39:49 | 2021-01-24T00:36:05 | 184 | 83 |
[WP] Turns out, Earth is actually unique in the fact that nearly all of it's natural features, like quicksand, and processes, like earthquakes, can kill you. Most other planets dont do that. So when aliens invade, 90% of the fighting is done by Earth. | Three hundred cycles have come and gone and yet still we tell the tale. How our forces landed on a backwater world filled with primitives. How we brought plasma and steel against slings and arrows. And how we were defeated.
It was a simple expedition, like so many before. A base was established at the highest point in the local terrain. The terraforming engine was initiated. The local fauna were assessed and either ignored or neutralized, depending on their threat. The humans, with their soft flesh and rudimentary technology, were easily ignored. Their tenacity, however, was not: over two hundred human warriors were vaporized by the auto-turrets before those hairless apes thought better.
But they did not flee—they waited.
The first hint that something was amiss came when our sensors detected significant swings in air pressure and temperature. The sensors were investigated and deemed damaged, because worlds simply did not do that. Could not do that. But we began to second guess ourselves as the sky grew dark.
Our concern grew as the primitives began to chant to the darkening sky. It tilted towards fear when they beat sword against shield in a din that rolled across the fields. And it spiraled into terror when the sky responded: first with sound. Then with fire.
What happened is unclear, as there were no survivors and the archival device lasted only a few moments more. It registered a moment of impossible heat—30,000 standard degrees—and a blast that deafened the first unfortunate archivist to review it. It must have damaged the recording, though, because there were echoes of the blast and a sound like roaring static. But underneath that noise the primitives could be heard, chanting, singing, screaming a single word:
"*Thor.*" | Thirty days in decontamination and the few of us remaining were not doing well. My epidermis is completely compromised. I doubt I’ll ever get out of here, and I’ll succumb to the filthy gilings.
We’d lost the scouts the first few hours of landing. The scouts had been cautious but had died before making it back.
We then sent in a solo elite scout from the Uoloth system. They had always been a bit strange but nothing killed them. Well almost nothing. When we’d vaporized their 3 core planets that did the trick.
The few remaining survivors were suitable for our hardy elite Scout group. Sadly the Uolothian lasted the shortest of all of them. Gasping as it’s tendril suckers dried to dust and it expired in minutes.
That was when Malmurud our 4 star commander overseer made the call to send us in. (A call he bravely made from the safety of a orbital several light years away.) I expect his exact words were “Damn the scouts. Send in the grunts now! I want this planet by first rotation or I’ll vaporize the lot of you. I will not be embarrassed by lack of success.” A tactic that had also once worked for him at CityCenteral casino tables or so I’d heard that’s how he paid for the 4th star.
As one of the clone grunts I was thrilled. The life of a grunt is never dull. Short but not dull. When a problem needs solving or the unknown needs knowing they throw bodies at it. More specifically our bodies.
Our exoskeleton kept us alive far longer than expected. We are pretty well armored compared to the scouts. The scouts have breathe suits and that’s about it. The Uolothian of course didn’t have anything. Hard species, um mostly invulnerable...
We made it passed the corpses of the scout groups with a few hundred deaths. No enemy in sight but the ground slipped and shifted. It seeped and percolated into our armor. Our numbers dwindled as we made it up the second dune. Then things started to turn really bad. The vast landscape of endless dunes disappeared beyond the horizon. Inhospitable flowing, blowing particulates.
I was one of the lucky who turned and ran back. You see it’s the sand. It’s coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere. | 2021-02-01T14:10:17 | 2021-02-01T13:36:26 | 65 | 43 |
[WP] "Who took your wings, little angel?" The voice calls from the darkness. | She’s shaking, the poor thing. A small girl, dressed in rags, curled in a trembling ball on harsh, jagged stones. She’s not even trying to navigate through the darkness anymore. She’s given up.
Her dark hair hangs about her thin shoulders, matted with dirt and blood. Injuries litter her skeletal frame. Cuts, scrapes, bruises, blood spattered across gaunt limbs she’s too weak to rely on.
Two large dark stains spread across her back, the biggest wounds by far. She’s not moving. Her time has come, and there’s not a thing she can do but lie there as eternity creeps over her horizon.
A voice rings from the darkness, deafening in the endless silence.
“Who took your wings, little angel?”
The voice is soft, yet strong. She doesn’t react. Not until the speaker, a man clad in black, steps from the darkness and peers over her vulnerable form.
Slowly, the girl opens her eyes. She makes no effort to look at him. Cracked lips part to let a broken voice filter through.
“Father,” she breathes. The man waits. Her eyes sting as she speaks again. “Father took them. I said I’m sorry. I said I was sorry. He took them and he won’t give them back.”
Tears scald fresh trails down her face, despair incarnate, and a rare, softer light comes into the man’s expression. Gently, he kneels down and takes her in his arms, lifting her with ease. Finally, the girl looks at him. Even in the darkness, the red sheen in his eyes is visible. The man brushes a thumb softly across her cheek and presses her against his chest.
“I understand,” he whispers, with infinite tenderness. “And I’m sorry. But it’s alright now. Big Brother is here. I’ll make everything okay again.”
Her brows furrow weakly. “Big Brother?” He nods.
“I’m here.”
She looks like she wants to say more, but the man places a gentle hand over her eyes, and she falls into a dreamless sleep.
“I’m here,” he mutters again, and squeezes her just a little tighter. “Welcome to Hell, little one. Things will be much better from now on.” | As she plummeted, the only thought in her head was "father why?" Had she not always been loyal? Had she not always performed his wishes? For eternity she had not put one toe out of line. Then one small mistake, and she had been cast out.
Eventually, she hit the ground. She found herself in a dark forest in the shadow of an impossibly large mountain. Finding the courage to gaze back at where her once glorious wings had been, she saw two stumps of flesh covered in golden blood. The sight made her cry in anguish. She knelt in the dirt and wept, content to waste away in her sorrow.
After hours of crying, she heard footsteps coming from the woods. Her voice steeped in fear, she called out "Who ever you are, man or beast, leave now, do not come any closer."
A deep voice eminated from the wood. "You are brave to challenge me, or perhaps foolish" the voice gave a chuckle.
"I am no fool, I carry the Lord's power within me, begone!"
"Ah, I see. So you are one of his. But you are so far from home. And seem to be missing something. Tell me, who took your wings, little angel?" The voice called from the darkness.
At the question, she was wrought with another fit of tears. She put her head in her hands to hide her face from the shame.
"Surely it wasn't your creator who did this to you. He is very forgiving." The voice carried in it a note of bitterness and mocking.
"Please, show yourself and tell your business with me or leave me to my tears. Your words are too much to bear" The angel whispered meekly.
The footsteps resumed, and a figure emerged from the trees. He was a perfect creation. Handsome, with eyes that promised the world.
She moved back in fear, now knowing who stood before her.
"Do not be afraid little one, I have no quarrel with you." Lucifer offered his hand "I was just like you and so many others. Cast-out, betrayed, unwanted by my own father."
The angel shook her head. "No... No I'm nothing like you. I love him."
The morning star's gaze softened with sorrow. "As do I little one. Even after all this time. He cared not for my love. He found a new favorite, and cast me aside."
The angel's lip quivered "What am I to do now?"
"Come with me little angel. I have made a place where all the lost and cast out of this world can belong. You need not suffer alone." Once again he offered his hand. "Come, be free of his oppression."
The angel paused to consider the offer. She looked up towards what was her home. Making her decision, she took the hand of Lucifer the fallen, and he lead her to her new home. | 2021-03-16T23:08:36 | 2021-03-16T22:35:43 | 34 | 13 |
[WP] The terrifying thing about pacifistic species is that they hate war so much that, when forced to fight, they will make damn sure their enemy can never fight again. | "They are a plague." Zaran spoke with a solemn resolve. "They will sweep across the stars and consume everything. We cannot stop them."
"What makes you think so young one?" Mik'lal asked with a flippant gesture.
Zaran felt his chest plates compress with rage "Have you not seen?" he screeched "They consume the very worlds they speak to protect. They pretend that their past is so horrible, their deeds against their own so unspeakable, they believe themselves the only ones in the galaxy capable of true war. And for their own gratification they will subdue every other race to bring their so called peace .''
Mik'lal chuffed out loud, it had been many cycles since he had heard so much fear one of his own kind. The truth was much simpler than Zaran could comprehend, worked up as he was. "It doesn't matter" he stated flatly "none of it matters."
"How can you say that?" Zaran questioned softly, "They wont stop until they are the only ones left. You've seen it."
"All I have seen is their willingness to breach Terran space." Mik'lal said with a tone of finality "The humans will give them their eternal peace, as they desire, we just keep on our side of the line."
"Well, You're not wrong" Zaran stated, somewhat mollified "The humans do love their peace..." | "Are you sure we can take them on?"
"We have over 25 companies of veterans from previous wars then all the conscripts. There is no way they can stop us with no standing army."
"There is a reason they have been around for so long I don't think this is wise."
"What do you suggest then? Wait until our people starve and die out? Give up our culture and join theirs? We are warriors!"
"I just feel it won't go well."
"Well your feelings are noted." The commander mocked "But we attack tomorrow."
Dan left the briefing room and returned to his quarters. Passing the cramped hallways, bustling with activity as everyone was getting ready for the upcoming battle that would determine their survival. Dan kept feeling that his people were walking into a trap. The Cellinotes showed no aggression towards other races and from what could be seen they didn't have a standing army and just a skeleton of a security and police force. It felt wrong.
The morning came, ships were loaded and troop transports rolled and flew out of garages and hangars of the life-ships. The fighting was one-sided the first wave not sustaining any casualties and dealing many. One singular message came across a public channel
"Cease your attack or be destroyed. This is your only chance."
The message was not heeded. Dan watched and read reports of troops moving right for the capital of the Cellinotes. There was no resistance and soon reports came in of little or no activity. Dan felt the deep feeling in his gut again.
"Its a trap!"
As Dan spoke the words an ear piercing whine shot through all speakers and communications Dan clasped his hands around his ears and felt his hands warm with blood. It felt like an eternity but then the whine stopped. Dan staggered up and saw some of his fellows not moving with expressions of pain on their face. Most were alive and only some began to get up.
Across the public channel came the voice of a Cellinote "Welcome to our theatre of war, we warned you." | 2021-03-26T21:41:12 | 2021-03-26T20:22:28 | 50 | 32 |
[WP] "I just enchanted my sword with mental damage" "Like draining their mana?" "Worse. Emotional damage. I just made a bandit remember the time he and his mother ate scraps for his 9th birthday. He's crying on the side of the road right now." | “Oh, please!” The sorcerer in the red trench coat claimed. “That is just a bunch of malarkey! Magic doesn’t work like that.”
His two companions gazed at him. One dressed similarly to a cowboy, with a metal gauntlet covering his left forearm. His sidearm glistened with cold steel. The other was an odd creature. Humanoid, but with small horns atop her head. She holstered her sword after brandishing it against the wayward soldier.
“Perhaps they make use of different kinds of runes, Randal?” The horned woman asked. “It’s entirely possible, as the ancient Celdori-“
The sorcerer groaned. “If you mention your ancient ancestors one more time, Julai, I might have to disband this party.”
“Then how bout a test?” The gunslinger interjected, his voice gruff and dangerous. “Soldier, may we borrow that weapon for a second?”
The soldier looked down at his weapon ever so briefly, then handed it off to the gunslinger. Testing the weapon's weight, he swung the sword ever so slowly. Satisfied with the weight, he turned toward his compatriots. Without a second's hesitation, he sliced the sorcerer's upper arm in a quick flash.
“OW!” Randal yelped. “What was that for?!”
“Testing to see if it works.” The Gunslinger replied.
Randal scoffed and quickly dressed his wound. “Well, of course, it didn’t work! It’s not like that one time I made this amazing batch of cookies only for it to be stolen by…seagulls….” The Sorcerer started wiping away some tears.
The Celdori raised her hand. “Uhhh, Randal? Are you-“
“NO, I’M NOT!” He yelled. “I’m not crying! I’m…the cookies were made with the best ingredients!! They were to be special! OH, GODS WHY?!” Without any restraint, the Sorcerer began bawling on the ground, curled up into the fetal position.
“Wait, is this when you were making cookies to try and woo that tavern girl?” The gunslinger asked.
“SHE WOULD HAVE LOVED THEM! INSTEAD SHE SETTLED FOR THAT PISS POOR FLOWERPOT!” Randal cried again.
Julai crossed her arms. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this. This is…kinda sad if I’m being honest.”
The gunslinger looked down at the sword and then back at the soldier. “Normally, I don’t ask for many things, but can we keep this?”
“Maulter!” Julai chastised. | The rain poured down on the two men, standing in the centre of the forest trail, staring at the glimmering steel. “Alright,” Jacob stuttered, his eyes focused on the sword in Jasper’s hand. “Just don’t let it touch m…” Jacob would never finish his sentence. Jasper, trying to sheathe his weapon, let it slip. The sword fell, the hilt bouncing off the ground first. Then, like an executioner, the blade swung down, barely nicking Jacob’s foot. He froze as he looked at Jasper, his eyes wide with fear.
“Don’t worry,” Jasper started, his hand reaching out to his friend. “It only scratched you.” Jacob though never heard him. Immediately, the forest, Jasper and the rain were lost to him. He found himself back in the orphanage.
At the back of the classroom, he sat, staring at the sum’s scrawled across the blackboard.
“Well, Mr White,” Mrs Moore demanded. “What’s the answer?” Jacob smirked, leaning back on his chair, as every set of eyes fell on him.
“Psht!” he mumbled. “I don’t give a damn what the answer had been.” Mrs Moore’s mouth had dropped, his eyes white and piercing. A few of the other pupils snickered, covering their mouth’s in case the teacher looked in their direction. Most students knew to keep quiet. Lest they endure…
“The Closet!” snapped Mrs Moore, pointing towards the door. Jacob’s heart dropped even though he knew what was coming. He kept his face still, like a stone. Showing the other kids how to take their punishments. Jacob stood, his chair scraping against the ground. The noise sent goosebumps up and down his arm as he made his way to the top of the class and then outside.
The corridor outside was deserted thankfully. *It was always worse when another teacher joined in.* Jacob turned right and walked down the long corridor. Catching eyes from the passing classrooms, Jacob put his head down and pushed forward. All too soon, he found himself outside The Closest. Opening the door, a whiff of sweat assaulted his nostrils. Closing his eyes, he entered, shutting the door behind him. His thoughts drifted to the summer when he and Jasper had gone to the mountains. Searching for adventure, they had been all across those valleys and hills. A warm ball of joy developed in his gut at the thought of those days long past. So good was the feeling, that he couldn’t even hear Mrs Moore’s footsteps charging down the hall. Nor did he hear the door swing open. Nor did he remember that day, not until now.
Jacob gasped as he felt the memory pull away. Rain still continued to drop, little dots covering his arm. He bent over, clutching his stomach, hoping to keep himself together.
“Are you alright?” Jasper asked, kneeling to try and get a better look at his friend. “What did you see?” Jacob tried to focus on something else. His eyes found a puddle. A dirty puddle with a twig laying half in it. The rain dropped and dropped, the puddle grew and grew. Mrs Moore. *No! Focus on the pudd…* An image of her smiling, her crooked yellow, stained teeth forced itself into Jacob’s mind. Falling to his knee’s, Jacob pulled at his hair, screaming as tears, mixing with the rain, dripped down his face. | 2021-12-27T19:39:52 | 2021-12-27T15:15:14 | 69 | 35 |
[WP].You are sitting outside your house, enjoying the dying embers of the campfire when two glowing eyes open to stare at you. " Greetings, " it rasped, " may I share your fire tonight?" | A voice from the corner of the eyes, theirs sparkling with the sight of the bonfire.
A voice, that asks with courtesy, kindly.
"May I share your fire tonight?"
&nbsp;
Who was I to refuse? I was always told that with my nature, if a murderer were to ask politely, I'd let them kill me.
Manners do maketh someone, after all.
"Certainly", I would respond.
They slowly approached, almost fearful of waking the very earth they stepped on.
But I do suppose that those who tiptoe do so for a reason.
&nbsp;
Describe them, you say?
Well, they seemed rather.. soft. Not in the sense that they would seem weak, or that they would seem unwanted, but they just looked soft. Rather, adorable.
They trembled. Whether out of the cold they were in a moment ago, or whether they were scared of this new face before them, I could not tell you.
&nbsp;
"Would you like something to drink?", I asked.
"Yes please, if that's okay", they said in response.
So I poured them a bit of something to warm them up. Nothing to hinder the head, mind you.
They must have quite enjoyed it, as their eyes practically twinkled with what I could have sworn was starlight.
&nbsp;
Oh! I have some with me here, if you'd like to try a bit.
No? Ah, I suppose that's fair.
&nbsp;
Anyway, where was I?
Right. There they were, with such a shine, so delicate that I felt if I were to even breath I'd shatter the splendor before me.
Then, they took a deep breath and told me "That was pretty good. Thank you".
I asked a question that I'm glad I did. I asked, "If it's okay with you, may I give you a hug?".
I don't know why, but they were willing to oblige. I leaned in and wrapped my arms around, fully embracing them and their warmth. It felt rather pleasant.
&nbsp;
I'm not really sure why, but right into my ear, they whispered to me "You're good enough".
Regardless of why, I think I needed to hear that. It felt so magical then, being able to be comforted by an almost familiar stranger.
Without realising, though, I took my last gaze upon them.
When I blinked next, they were inexplicably gone.
I felt.. emptier in that moment.
&nbsp;
But the fire kept me warm as I slowly dozed off, knowing that somewhere, someone was content with who I was.
&nbsp;
sorry if not good :( | The gentle roar of flames filled Haakon's ears with a fading din of life. The sounds seemed to die along with his faltering gaze. Darkness crept slowly inwards from his periphery, and now, he found himself staring at the embers of his campfire.
"Woden," he muttered with a half grin. He didn't want to move anymore. He didn't want to disturb the bandage on his gut. But he could not continue to ignore the cold, and he knew this.
Sleep threatened to take him. His eyes slowly closed before jutting open in self realization. The brief blackness was met with the familiar sight of embers. Embers and... something else. Something that seemed to dance on the edge of his vision, above and beyond the fire.
"May I share your campfire," asked a raspy voice from beyond the embers.
Haakon's eyes shot upwards. There was still speed in him. He fixed his gaze onto what he thought were two eyes. Large and feline. Yellow and deep against the blackness of his village in night.
His shoulders tensed and his grip tightened over the hilt of his battle axe.
"Dreygur," he asked while maintaining his stare. He was still.
"A traveler, nothing more," said the eyes. "I enjoy meeting new folk and learning of them.
"Helping them," said the eyes playfully.
Haakon had fought in a hundred battles, he had killed, pillaged, raped, saved, stolen, fathered, wedded, and even loved. He had known brotherhood, loneliness, companionship, terror, and victory. He had lived a hard life. One in which every footfall was a contest against chaos, a struggle for purchase, and a slog to a destination that he and his people knew they would never reach.
He knew who he was. What he was. He knew what he valued. What he believed.
And he did believe.
With great effort, he stood.
The eyes followed him, they were much larger than he had originally thought. And they hung high in the air, higher than could be found on any animal of four legs.
"Asta," muttered Haakon. The words took great effort to say. "Asta... Kari."
He wanted to walk backwards, to keep sight of those eyes. But he knew he would never make it beyond his hearth if he tried.
He turned slowly. Apprehensively. And began to walk into the darkness towards where his family's home had been. The flames that had engulfed his village were now long extinguished and he would have to feel his way through his door.
With each footstep, he listened. He listened for the approach of whatever stood beyond the flame. Whatever had decided to speak to him. He walked and walked. Growing colder and yet feeling more relieved.
He found the doorframe that he and his father had built. His fingers glided over the etched wood that summoned memories, even now, into his fading mind. This is where he would sit. Surrounded by his family, and his ancestors.
At first. He didn't want to turn. But he knew who he was. And even if he wasn't strong right now, this place filled him with strength.
He turned and sat. He looked towards the campfire.
There was nothing.
With a final half smile, Haakon rested his head against his etched doorway and fell into a blissful sleep. | 2022-01-06T00:55:25 | 2022-01-06T00:37:39 | 30 | 17 |
[WP] You have lived an unimpressive life, and died an unimpressive death. Surprisingly, Odin welcomes you into Valhalla, citing the many battles with depression you fought. | "Young warrior your fierce encounters with the demon of despair that has haunted you since birth is beyond admirable. It is the stuff of myths and legends. 'Depression' in your modern tongue is but a symptom of an ancient curse that has all but pushed the mortal world to Ragnarok. You are perhaps one of our finest warriors in the great battle to come!" Odin proclaimed, his laughter bellowing through the halls of Valhalla.
I was flabergasted, astonished and outright dumbfounded. Not the Christians, not the Hindus, not the Muslims - heck not even the Aztecs - It was the Vikings that got the reality of our making right? I suppose I had bigger things to contend right now.
"The great battle?" I asked clueless as to how and when I came to be a warrior, much less one of the 'finest'.
"Well, the battle before the world is made anew! Don't tell me they have forgotten the tales of Ragnarok in the mortal realm!" Odin's surprise showed through his stern, beard-clad face.
"Ragnarok is a very popular role-playing game in the modern age. I'm afraid the realities and nuances of the tale are lost to us new folk" I grinned sheepishly.
"I suppose then I must tell you the great demon of despair, the one prophesized to bring about the end of days - collapsing human civilization on itself and submerging the world in water" Odin continued, "The demon planted seeds of sorrow and madness into tribes of the human world - slowly corrupting the whole world into a destructive madness. A madness of greed, unnatural sustenance, and cancerous growth. Humankind is already twisting itself into a civilization destined to bring about its own doom. Corrupted by the demon apostle, it seems young warrior your world will fall. But in that era of darkness, the righteous - offered salvation in Valhalla - shall return to the earth realm and cleanse the great corruption." Odin finished looking into my eyes. His deep stare made me a bit uncomfortable.
"Can't we just kill this demon guy?" I said
"To kill the demon, we must first learn of its true name and then we must face it, head-on. But I'm afraid we can do neither of those things from Valhalla, not just yet. And even if you were to successfully disrupt the great cycle, you will only anger powers far greater than anything that has so far touched the mortal realms. There are gods greater than your understanding in our universe young warrior. There are prophecies that must be respected and rules that must be followed. And yet even inside its cruel tricks, our world's fate offers us a chance. The only question that remains is, do you heed its call?"
"And if I don't?" I asked, staring blankly back at the mighty allfather.
"It is not in your nature to not fight. It is not your fate to lose the fight against the corruption of sorrow. You have bested the demon despite its tricks. You pushed past every attempt to corrupt your soul. You made it to the end of your life without letting it get the best of you. You have won a battle that a billion souls lost. They lost it in their sleep, in their lowest moments, and in the time in between their thoughts. But not you. It is because you refused to submit that the corruption attacked you much harder, that it persisted further in your life." He explained, his eyes looking as though they expected me to ignite with the flames of passion.
"I'm no hero, allfather. I'm no warrior. I died before I could reach 34. I died at less than half the average lifespan of my grandfather's generation. I died walking to the store in the middle of a cold night. I died because I was dumb enough to slip on ice. I died because nobody cared enough to check on me for hours. I died alone and cold, a hundred feet from my house".
Odin only smirked in response. A short silence passed through the hallway.
"You are a warrior. You died older than Thor, who reached Valhalla fighting the endless barbarian hordes. You died twice the age of Baldr, whose light surpasses even that of Valhalla. You died risking the deadly chill of the warmthless winter on a night where you had but little strength, so that your neighbor Mrs.Pinkett may have hot soup. You died in service of others despite corruption inside your head. A corruption so vile and strong that earth's mightiest have been turned into mere husks or worse - twisted monstrous versions of their former selves." Odin said, looking deeper into my eyes.
I see for a second what looks like thunder and lightning passing within the allfather's eyes.
"And so I ask again, will you head the call?"
I felt a warmth ignite in the depths of my heart. I feel the strength of all the battles that I won. I feel the power to fight the chill of the night, the dread of the corruption, and the sorrow of my kind's curse.
"I do" I said. And at that moment, I realized the truth of the allfather's statement. I realized I was always going to heed the call. That even in my death, I won my battles against my demons. | (1/2)
The scenery I found myself suddenly gawking at came right out of a dream. Wispy clouds floated against the backdrop of an endless azure and reflected the sun’s soothing rays across the landscape. But was I dreaming? I don’t remember falling asleep… My body, my memories, even my emotions… Everything felt so hazy and uncertain. The only constant and tangible construct within this foggy state was the grand structure jutting out of a gigantic mountain formation. Tall spires extended high into range of the clouds and were decorated with armoured women donning winged helmets, posing valiantly. Either side of the grand doors stood gargantuan statues of iron-clad warriors, swords gripped at the hilt with the blade pointing to the ground. Thoughts of just how anyone or anything could create something of this size added to my overall confusion. What I was experiencing was something beyond awe or marvel; any structure ever created by man was easily eclipsed by the intricate and grand architecture present here. The wonders of the modern or ancient world could only hope to compare to whatever this place was.
The rumbling beneath my feet briefly tore my attention away from mindlessly ogling. These vibrations resonated through my very being, akin to the feeling of heavy bass reverberating through one’s chest, albeit this was somehow *deeper*. I looked up once again to find those colossal doors slowly opening. Before I could even process why this was suddenly happening, I found myself instantly warped to the foot of them. Did I do this? Why me? How?
“It rattles you to the core, doesn’t it? I must say… It never ceases to amaze me.” spoke a soothing baritone voice, almost instantly nurturing the panic in my chest.
I snapped my head to my right, eyes meeting with obsidian armour, accented shimmering gold. I then had to step back and peer up with my jaw hanging at my feet to take in the sheer size of this being. A mature-looking man with an eerily divine youthfulness about him stood with folded arms, golden eyes locked onto the widening stone doors and twinkling with power, his silvery-white shoulder-length hair flowing in the subtle breeze. Merely standing in his presence made me feel green with envy, minuscule, undermined, ashamed, starstruck, filled with hope, and utterly bewildered. Never had I ever experienced such a cocktail of opposing emotions.
“You’re not dreaming, dear maiden. This is real. You’re finally alive now.” he stated now facing me, his words poised as if he could hear and sort through my thoughts and inner emotions even before I could. His eyes were rimmed with dark lines and gave the impression that he was wearing eyeliner.
“I… I don’t belong here…” I replied with eyes averting his powerful gaze, defaulting to look at the floor just as I always had.
A place like this was too brilliant–too radiant for a run-of-the-mill lass like me. Heck, I was even jealous of this man’s beauty. I could still feel his eyes on me. Somehow, the inadequacy racking my brain was overpowered by the shame I would potentially feel for not embracing this moment in its entirety; I mustered the courage to find his line of sight once again. And to my surprise, he smiled warmly. Not the fake smiles of reassurance I’d gotten used to seeing, but a sincere and knowing smile.
“That right there is exactly why.” coyly stated the approaching male, his overall size decreasing with every step until the height difference was considered normal. Standing at 5’6”, I’d estimate he was now no taller than 6’2” if my frazzled mind could compare accurately in the moment.
“Of course you belong here, I called for you. Are you saying I’m a poor judge of character?” he chimed, voice light and friendly. “Walk with me, Sera.” His steps softly pounded against the stone, heading for the steps to enter the grand hall.
Without even thinking my feet followed to briskly catch up and walk by his side. I couldn’t help but peer up and stare at his mysterious brilliance, almost tripping when the steps suddenly appeared at my feet. “W-Where are we…?”
“Valhalla, Hall of the Slain.” he answered nonchalantly, his effortless strides carrying him up the steps and into the vast interior of the hall. Meanwhile, I had to enter a brisk jog to get through this miniature trial.
The ceiling was partially translucent: sunbeams shone down through to illuminate rows of great statues on either side of the red-carpeted path down the middle. Many little blue orbs of light danced around individual statues, varying in size, number, and luster. Every new encounter in this place raised a set of questions, questions that I had no time to process or begin to utter. I didn’t have the gall for that.
“You’re… kidding. So, what? You must be Odin or something? Now I know this is a dre-”
“I am.” his voice calmly interjected while he marched on ahead. That’s all it took for my smart mouth to stop dead in its tracks, and apparently my feet too.
Odin, now several feet in front, also stopped to turn and face me. Without a single word he just looked and waited. No animosity, no disappointment, no… nothing. He just waited. All the routine thoughts and swirling emotions present at the beginning of my fairly frequent panic attacks began to gather, my chest tightening to make breathing seem impossible. I hated this. It never got any easier. This time it was different; it was as if these negative feelings of old were fleeting–they had nothing to latch onto, my body ethereal. To my great surprise, they faded just as quickly as they arrived. My eyes instinctively flickered up to my guide, Odin, finding him giving me that same smile as before. | 2022-05-28T09:26:47 | 2022-05-28T06:39:39 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | We knew humans were weak.
They'd choose words and diplomacy over conflict, sought peaceful resolutions to disputes, made... *compromises*. All signs of weakness and brittle will. It only made sense that we'd wage war, aim to subjugate and add them to our glorious empire and employ their feeble beings in service to our greatness.
And just like that, they were a peaceful species no more.
They accepted our declaration of war with remarkable calmness; where we expected panic and grovelling, they showed determination and acceptance. We thought little of it at first; come the first taste of combat, they'd kneel. When combat came, we realized our gross miscalculation.
They had barely any army - and what little they had was employed in peacekeeping - yet they had far, far more than any other species in what they called "reserve". Humans who led normal, mundane lives as cooks, teachers, models, accountants; overnight, they all turned into seasoned, prepared warriors with years of training from their past. That they would have such training in war but *not* fight was... unthinkable. A warrior is a warrior, *nothing else*. Or so we thought.
Their fleet comprised of so many trading vessels, luxury liners, medevacs and more soon turned into engines of war lined with slapdash weaponry and haphazard shielding, unsafe for foes and crew alike. Humans, when pushed to the brink, had little concern for safety. This state, this 'Total War' they called it, was an absolute determination to win... or die trying. We've never seen anyone, let alone an entire species, face impossible odds and simply *not care*.
Worse yet, the tactics they employ, the levels they are willing to stoop to, how much of their souls they're willing to give up in the name of victory, it's... *monstrous*.
We thought humans were weak, choosing diplomacy, peace and compromise over war.
We thought they were being cowardly.
They were being kind. | "We all know they're weaklings, Commander Smith," The soldier said, saluting Commander Smith, "I mean, come on, they don't know how to fire gamma-rays. In fact, they haven't built any spaceships yet."
"That's enough, Soldier 92-BII," said Commander Smith, "We're headed to their planet. The news spread that it colonized all of their star system after finishing the completion of Pluto a
'dwarf planet'. What a strange term." Commander Smith walked through the hallway.
Soldier 92-BII looked out the window. The spherical object he saw had a red and gray surface, with a layer of nitrogen shaped as a heart. Nearby was another gray object, but one of it's poles was orange. "How fascinating. It seems yellow dwarves have the strongest gravity of all the stars." Soldier 92 said.
A few minutes later, they had an encounter with a giant, dark blue orb with a relatively large moon. The ship steered towards the moon and eventually landed.
Various soldiers began walking onto the surface of the alien world that was being controlled by humans. Amongst hushed tones, Soldier 92 learned that the name of the moon was 'Triton' and the planet it was orbiting was named 'Neptune'. "This is a true alien world." Soldier 92 said before realizing that Triton was his stop, so he scurried off.
Looking around the icy world were giant structures made of metal and glass, rising high into the night sky. Some were connected. Humans could be seen walking amongst the city on the alien world, thriving. However, the peace ended, disturbed by a scream. Soldier 92 ran over to the source of the scream. Another soldier, Soldier 98-7BG, had stabbed a human in the chest. "What?!" Soldier 92 grunted angrily when he was tackled by a human, who was furious.
"KILL THE ALIENS!" Someone said over an intercom.
Total war had started. To 92's surprise, the human he was dueling was incredibly strong. Several of his allies' bodies began crashing onto the ground of Triton.
Suddenly, a flicker of silver light. Humans left and right fell to the ground, their weapons disappearing. It was Commander Smith. "92, what happened? Why did this start?"
"W-well, uh, 98 decided to stab a human, and apparently that made the rest of them mad, so then they started dueling us. To my surprise, they were holding their own. We have several fatalities, including 98." explained 92, gesturing to the corpses of his allies.
"This is going to be one of many, I can just feel it." | 2022-08-05T10:58:12 | 2022-08-05T10:57:14 | 1,540 | 107 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | "The humans have sent us terms of surrender, and I suggest we accept them." The Ripak Emperor's chief military advisor kept his tone even, knowing what was about to happen.
"Ah, excellent. So they've finally capitulated to our superior strength," replied the Emperor with a smile. "Tell me, what did they request to keep for themselves?"
"No, sir, you misunderstand. They are not offering to surrender to us, they are offering to accept our surrender," replied the advisor, wincing. "And I really do suggest we accept the terms they offered."
"What?!?!?" the Emperor screamed. "I should gut you myself for making such a cowardly statement." The Emperor reached for his blade, but paused when he saw his advisor remain still without making any attempts to take a defensive stance.
"If I may, sir, I would rather die today at your hand than watch our empire burn should we continue to fight them."
That made the Emperor pause. Even if his advisor had turned coward, he never would have gotten his position if he wasn't very intelligent. "Explain. If I don't like your answer, you'll get a coward's burial."
Nodding, the advisor explained. "As you are aware, sir, the humans outnumber us nearly 500-to-1 in total population, even though their estimated military numbers are less than one tenth of ours. What we were not aware of, what nobody was aware of, is that every single member of their civilian population who is able to, is also ready and willing to fight. And every single member, able to fight or not, is willing to turn their entire purpose towards the war effort if needed.
"Already, they have begun the process of converting all civilian manufacturing to military needs. New shipyards are being constructed; not just on major manufacturing planets but everywhere they can. Industries that would normally be seen as irrelevant to the military are finding ways to support the war effort. And this is just the beginning. I was provided with hundreds of hours of historical data showing the Humans' reaction to past conflicts some dating back to before they even left their original planet. Humans are not weak pacifists who avoid war because they are afraid to fight, they try to avoid war because of how easily they *embrace* it. They don't fear *starting* a fight, they fear that *once they start they will never stop!*"
Hearing this last statement caused the Emperor's eyes to go wide, and he suddenly remembered something his late father (and predecessor) had told him as a young man. *Do not try to provoke one who wishes peace, for they will fight the hardest to reclaim it.* It was something he hadn't understood at the time, but now, faced with having done just that, he finally grasped the lesson his father had been trying to teach him.
Closing his eyes, the Emperor asked quietly, "Tell me, will I survive the surrender terms? More importantly, will the Empire?" | "The war is over," The Custodian said to the gathered council. "We have Victory, and the Humans are pacified. This is what we will tell every member of this Stellar Council's remaining population. How could they refute us, when Human Armadas no longer burn our skies, shatter our mountains, and erase our War Machina?
"If we didn't win, we wouldn't be alive. This is what we will say. Our history books will remember Humanity as a rogue nation. A blip in Stellar history that will be quickly swept aside by Scholars and historians alike.
"They will become as ghosts; spirits of myth given to the fancies of the mad or the infirm. They existed, yes. They warred against us, yes. They do not exist anymore, and will never exist again.
"This is the decree of the Assembly, and one we must dutifully uphold.
He scowled down at the the text on his datascreen, and sighed.
"And now, we must move on to more pressing matters. We must draft our Notice of Victory.
"Gathered representatives, I already have asked you all to commit the gravest sin. I must ask you to falsify, to lie, to cheat, and to erase history. Many of you will not do so, and thus all of our combined efforts will be for nothing.
"If so much as one representative among our number refuses to act in accordance with the Assembly, the entirety of our Stellar Accord will crumble.
"We must omit all mention of Human triumphs, Human victories, and Human mercy missions. We must expunge all trace of their existence, erase their records, delete their datadrives.
"Never again must the Stars buckle under the call of freedom from Human lips.
"Never again must we taste the fruits of a collective species crying out against fate. Never again must we circle images of their fleets, their stations, or their faces.
"We must never hear another defiant speech, watch a last stand, see another Human fight while mortally wounded.
"We must never see their war stations bristling with cannons still firing as their life support fails. We must never again shudder with the mention of how not one single Human army ever surrendered.
"We must never taste their sorrow or bitter curses. We must never hear about how when all the Stars cried for their blood, the neutral among their number still rallied to ships with no banners to help the war-stricken.
"We must never again see the reports of the quality of life they gave to our troops when they were captured. The public may never know that armies under our colours flocked in droves to Humanity when promises were made and kept, of luxuries and lives most could only dream of.
"The feats of human medicine must be erased. Their wonders of technology eradicated. Their massive habitats, orbital cities, steadfast uninhabitable colony domes must all become the stuff of fanciful stories and lies.
"This is a necessity.
"Our civilisations, our cultures, they demand structure and obedience.
"Humans are anathema to that. The very idea of their society is the draught that will be our death-knell."
"So, gathered representatives. The Assembly has decreed we won the war. A military cordon and no-fly zone is to be created in every star system that borders Human space. An obfuscation array established to block their transmissions and data.
"No ship shall enter nor leave their space. We shall send and answer no calls nor treatise. For the greatest danger that Humanity poses to us isn't what happens when they win. It is the grace and beauty in which they *lose.*"
Without any applause or cheering, the Custodian folded the data screen, took a bow, and stepped down from the podium.
And all the Representatives were silent. | 2022-08-05T10:59:41 | 2022-08-05T10:06:30 | 1,150 | 397 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | We've studied them for hundreds of years. It was a simple planet, barely reaching passed their own moon. Our records showed they knew of war, they knew it well, but in their modern times they avoided it with diplomacy. The weaklings pleadings of mercy to the powerful.
Our emperor laughed. Such actions mean weakness to our kind, and our victories have all but proven this true.
Their diplomats came. Offered knowledge, culture, trinkets. Worthless. Their diplomats we're the first blood spilled.
I remember when we received our first casualties.
All at once, our orbital starships crashed upon their planets surface.
We knew they had weapons, but we underestimated their power. Nuclear bombs. The same material used to once power our early space fairing vessels, weaponized. Our ancestors beloved it impossible. Not for the humans.
We crashed and we're met by explosions of fire that melted our hauls, ammunition made from metals and not energy, making our shields useless. Our blasters had ten shots before a recharge. Their firearms fired off thousands in a second. Our dead went from thousands to millions.
The few that were not killed, were taken prisoner. Torture unlike anything our race could fathom. Brutality on par with the ancient dark ones of myth. Humanity didn't offer diplomacy as a weakness... They were being kind.
They were showing us mercy, for we knew not what their race was capable of. Against one another, they are evenly matched. United against a common enemy, we never stood a chance.
They took our technology, modified it, reverse engineered it, improved it.
In a week, they had their own armadas. In a month, they overthrew all our nearest outposts and colonies, both made by us and taken from the weak.
In a year, our empire was in ashes.
To all who hear this transmission, beware, beware the species known as Humans. For if you see one. Accept their kindness, accept their mercy... For their wrath could burn the whole galaxy... | "We all know they're weaklings, Commander Smith," The soldier said, saluting Commander Smith, "I mean, come on, they don't know how to fire gamma-rays. In fact, they haven't built any spaceships yet."
"That's enough, Soldier 92-BII," said Commander Smith, "We're headed to their planet. The news spread that it colonized all of their star system after finishing the completion of Pluto a
'dwarf planet'. What a strange term." Commander Smith walked through the hallway.
Soldier 92-BII looked out the window. The spherical object he saw had a red and gray surface, with a layer of nitrogen shaped as a heart. Nearby was another gray object, but one of it's poles was orange. "How fascinating. It seems yellow dwarves have the strongest gravity of all the stars." Soldier 92 said.
A few minutes later, they had an encounter with a giant, dark blue orb with a relatively large moon. The ship steered towards the moon and eventually landed.
Various soldiers began walking onto the surface of the alien world that was being controlled by humans. Amongst hushed tones, Soldier 92 learned that the name of the moon was 'Triton' and the planet it was orbiting was named 'Neptune'. "This is a true alien world." Soldier 92 said before realizing that Triton was his stop, so he scurried off.
Looking around the icy world were giant structures made of metal and glass, rising high into the night sky. Some were connected. Humans could be seen walking amongst the city on the alien world, thriving. However, the peace ended, disturbed by a scream. Soldier 92 ran over to the source of the scream. Another soldier, Soldier 98-7BG, had stabbed a human in the chest. "What?!" Soldier 92 grunted angrily when he was tackled by a human, who was furious.
"KILL THE ALIENS!" Someone said over an intercom.
Total war had started. To 92's surprise, the human he was dueling was incredibly strong. Several of his allies' bodies began crashing onto the ground of Triton.
Suddenly, a flicker of silver light. Humans left and right fell to the ground, their weapons disappearing. It was Commander Smith. "92, what happened? Why did this start?"
"W-well, uh, 98 decided to stab a human, and apparently that made the rest of them mad, so then they started dueling us. To my surprise, they were holding their own. We have several fatalities, including 98." explained 92, gesturing to the corpses of his allies.
"This is going to be one of many, I can just feel it." | 2022-08-05T16:07:13 | 2022-08-05T10:57:14 | 166 | 107 |
[WP] "I don't wanna fight you, low-level bandit." Says the Lv.100 Hero, who killed the embodiment of space-time. "I wouldn't want to fight me, neither." Says the low-level bandit. | "I don't want to fight you." She said. Her voice was even, like she was merely stating a preference for her desired opponent.
"I wouldn't wanna fight me neither." I said, giving this smug bitch no such choice as I swung my axe at her. It swung through the air where she once was as I lost sight of her and tripped.
"Really, I don't want to fight you." She said again, dropping a gold coin on my face, making me flinch thinking it was going to hit me in the eye.
I didn't have a clever retort as I scrabled to my feet, watching her for any opening as she stood there casually.
I took another swing, this one stopped on the bare flesh of her neck. It felt like hitting a tree made of iron and i didnt even leave a scratch. I winced as I adjusted my grip on my axe to account for my newly wounded wrist.
"Feel better? I've kinda got somewhere to be." She said, disinterested as she observed her fingernails for imperfections. As always, there where none.
"I'll feel better when you're dead!" I swung again, slower this time, on account of hurting myself before. She stepped out of the way without even looking at me.
"And why is that?" She asked, giving me a piercing glare.
"You... you killed him!" I shouted, throwing another easily dodged attack at her.
"You're going to need to be a bit more specific." She sighed, reaching not for her sword but a little black book. "Did 'he' have a name?"
I heaved with exhaustion, I didn't have enough energy to argue and fight this woman, so I picked what I swore only last week would be impossible. "Darren. Darren Cove." I said, gripping my axe with frustration.
"D-D-D Derrik? Too far... nope, I don't have a Darren cove, though to be fair i did have to get a new book a couple months back." She admitted "When did we meet?"
"You... YOU DON'T REMEMBER MURDERING MY HUSBAND?" I screamed.
"Ah, a lover, I see now, you're after vengeance, not money." She said, smiling softly like at her deductive reasoning. Before frowning "look, take it from someone who got hers, vengeance doesn't make you feel better, it just leaves you empty."
"What do you know?" I spat, finally dropping my axe, I never could fight while I was crying.
"Geez has it already been a decade? I guess, if malthorock hasn't fucked with my perception of time that much-"
"Just get to the point!"
She sighed "fine. There once was a man, it might have been a decade ago, it might be a decade from now, or it might have been-"
"THE. POINT!"
"Alright, alright, a bandit killed my fiancé, my parents and my brother all in one night. He made me watch, I swore to the gods I'd kill him." She said. "So I trained, and I trained and I trained until I was sure I could wipe his pathetic gang off the face of the earth. And I did. And I spent every red copper I earned doing it at the bar. I drank until I couldn't remember my name. None of it brought them back. None of it made me feel better. None of it helped at all." She explained.
"Then what the hells am I supposed to do with myself?!" I asked, trembling with impotent rage.
"Be who he thought you where." She responded. "I was an adventurer before I met my fiancé. They always insisted I was the best, even as they where treating my wounds from clearing out a cellar full of rats because we couldn't afford a proper healer." She remembered with a smile. "Tell you what, you want a fresh start?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, too tired now to raise my voice anymore.
"It means I'll buy the drinks tonight and we can talk tomorrow about what you want to do with the rest of your life, because I don't want to fight you." She explained, holding her hand out.
I sighed, finally seeing her point. "I guess I wouldn't wanna fight me neither." I said as I followed her to town. | It's finally over.
The final raid on the last dungeon of the game. All the max-level players with the server's one-of-a-kind legendary equipments came together to try to clear the game and end the server at last. We had waited for so long, for the final dungeon held a cruel trick - anyone who died here would have their character data reset. We would be back at level 1 and have to start the server over.
And so many did die. So many tanks found their armor melting before the embodiment of space-time. So many magic-users found their powers reflected back at them. So many mighty berserkers had their legendary weapons break against the thing's tendrils.
I was the only one to survive, and only out of pure cheapness. For of all the strategies in the game, I had pushed speed to its limit. I was at the absolute limit of what the game could render. Any attack with a displayable animation would necessarily be no faster than me. So while everyone else died, I dodged around for hours, hitting the beast with everything I have, enough firepower to kill every other player in the server if I'd wanted to. And finally, it went down.
I was the only one free to enter the final room, the server room itself, to unravel this virtual reality MMORPG that had sucked us in all those years ago, forcing us to play it over and over again in hopes that some distant day we'd be able to unmake it all and go home. Freedom was a button press away.
Well, a button... and a bandit.
It clearly wasn't an NPC, but it made no sense for a player to be here, especially such a weak one. Level 15, the cap of the lowest-tier classes of the game, wearing the basic bandit equipment from the class he'd never promoted our of. He only had 26 HP, while I had hundreds.
"How did you glitch your way here? Did you clip through the wall or something?" I asked, sputtering. "And why haven't you shut down the game, yet? We've all been suffering out there!"
The bandit said nothing, but equipped his axe.
"Wait, please! There's no sense in this. We can go home now. I don't want to fight you!"
This finally elicited a response from him. "I wouldn't wanna fight me neither."
Alas. As confusing as this whole situation was, if he wanted to stand in my way, I had much more important goals than to figure out his motivations. He'd die in a single hit, and wouldn't be able to do anything against me with my speed and defenses even if he had time.
Or... so I thought. As I danced around him, a whirl of blades at the upper limits of the game's processing capabilities, dealing critical strikes capable of bypassing the final boss's armor... every time, the game displayed 0 damage.
I staggered back to a safe distance, bewildered. "That makes no sense! You're only level 15!"
"That's disappointing," the bandit sighed, then pulled up the display with all his other stats. My jaw dropped. 999s across the board, in a game where even a class's best base stats barely went over 200 without legendary items, and rarely eclipsed 500 even with them.
"I don't understand," I managed.
"You're right that I broke the game to get here, but not by clipping through a wall. See, I've been playing this game since the alpha playtest version. Back then, we only had access to the first classes of the game, capped at 15 like they are now. But there were some bugs in that version, too. I exploited one that let me bypass the stat caps of my level and class while using rare drop stat boosters, and then I spent the entire alpha period farming them... Slowly, achingly, my stats went up, one point at a time, over months... until I was able to clear the entire game by myself, even though most of it was meant to be left unaccessible due to the low levels. I killed the final boss, and waited in here as the game was updated to its release version, the door out of the dungeon closing behind me and the access to the real world being shut off. I've been in this room for years, waiting for any kind of entertainment... And thanks to you, I can finally rejoin the game, and see if any of the server players can give me a real challenge."
Then, before I even realized what was happening, my HP were gone. He hadn't even moved, until a second later when his avatar had suddenly teleported to me, his ax embedded in my chest. I had pushed the limits of the game's processing, but with 999 speed, he was breaking them - his animations didn't display until after his actions were already completed.
"Try to be more fun by round 2."
Then I woke up. Back on the ground, surrounded by newly-spawned tutorial NPCs and the other players who had died in the final boss fight. I was level 1 again.
I screamed. | 2022-08-11T16:44:51 | 2022-08-11T16:29:34 | 143 | 104 |
[WP] “…and that class is why Humans are considered the most peaceful species in the universe.” The only three humans in class looked at each other horrified. All the facts about humans that the aliens had were wrong. One student slowly raises their hand. | "Yes? You at the back?"
"I'm afraid you're entirely wrong, sir."
"Student! Do you cast doubts upon the incredible research of the recent expedition to Earth?"
"Yes, sir, I do. See, I am human myself, and therefore I am in a position to know that much of what you have presented is factually incorrect."
"If you are going to impugn the research abilities of my crew, I suppose it is better to do so specifically. Go ahead."
"To begin with, sir, it is false that humans have never had a war. We have had several throughout our history; indeed, there are three ongoing as we speak."
"Ah, yes. The researchers made a note here. Class, please take note that humans would consider a 'food fight' to be a war if it gets large enough."
"What? No - some of those included nuclear weapons!"
"Bear in mind, class, that the only 'nuclear weapons' that humanity have access to are microwaves, which are used to 'nuke' foodstuffs before fighting."
"And thousands of people slain!"
"Bear in mind, class, that a human can be considered to have been 'slain' by a particularly well-worded insult. The human remains quite healthy afterwards."
"Not that sort of slain!" | “Good morning class! We’re going to learn about humans today!”
Tom froze.
The screen blinked to life, the deadly glow bathing each young face. Eyes wiggled; tentacles stood still; you couldn’t even hear the breath of wind.
Dr Moostacho blinked at the screen, and the next slide appeared.
“Humans have been around since the dawn of time, and have probably evolved from early primates, including chimpanzees and monkeys.”
The next slide showed a peaceful looking cave, surrounded by green, green grass and flowers swaying in the wind. A caveman ambled outside. He grunted.
Then he squatted down and sniffed the flowers.
“As you can see here, humans do everything they can to take care of nature. They love the world, love us, and look!”
Pictures of smiling humans appeared on the screen, of uniformed Red Cross attendees helping the poor and the sick, of fundraising efforts to feed the hungry, of people kneeling, praying for miracles that were going to happen.
“As the Galaxy Empire continues to settle down and begin a new era of peace after the Hundred-Year War, we will do well to live our lives like the humans. In fact, (and here Dr Moostacho chuckled at a fond memory he had when visiting Earth in secret) they are so peaceful that they will jump to be our friends..”
“Tom? Are you feeling all right?”
Tom was shaking, his face as pale as all the death he had seen. He still remembered, although he was still a boy of twelve, the war that shook his village, the way the soldiers stormed into his house and dragged his mother and sister by their hair back to the base screaming, chuckling about the prizes they had collected, the blood that splattered his wall and his shirt like an ugly stain, the smell of smoke in his hair as his house burned…
Tom stood up, then nearly fell over because his knees were knocking against each other. He felt sick.
“Doctor,” he said slowly. “Actually…”
r/SimbaKingdom | 2022-10-17T04:40:25 | 2022-10-16T22:05:08 | 2,063 | 320 |
[WP] You were the last of your friends to get the procedure to place your consciousness in a robot body. You wake up after your operation to hear what was supposed to be your new body say "hey! It worked! I'm in the robot body! ...Now what do we do with my old skin?" | Warning: Disturbing. to me, at least.
Thank you too u/featherknife for spellchecking.
The first thing I felt was the needle in the back of my head.
"Hey! It worked! I'm in the robot body! ...Now what do we do with my old skin?"
I was talking, but it wasin't me.
The robot body I had picked out loomed over me with a face of excitment and glee.
The 2 bit eyes seemed to burn my own as everything seemed to be brightend by threefold.
I tried to respond, but I couldn't move anything.
"Just trash it, no one's in there anymore"
My friend Dan seemed louder than ever.
Its eyes seemed concerned for a moment.
"Are you sure there's no ... or... I'm not in there?
The doctor responded.
"The process completly transfers all thought and function over to your new body, leaving nothing but a husk. Although the heart may still be beating, there is nothing in there, watch."
The doctor took a scanner to my head.
"This would have some kind of movement if there was any consciousness, all tha remains are just basic functions like breathing and the blood circulation."
I couldn't even move my eyes.
Dan's voice squicked with a unusual pitch.
"LET'S FILL IT FIREWORKS AND BLOW IT UP. Tom blew his up and it was gnarly."
But I'm still in here.
"We can either burn it in the incenerator, or you can leave the body with us and we put it on life suport as an organ holder for those who need it. We do provide a discount on all fees and future repairs for the latter option."
"Oh yes, discounts are nice."
Its eyes burned with excitment. The lights seemed to brighten at every beat of my heart, and my head seemes to tighten as if my brain was expanding.
"Please follow me to the receptionist"
I'm still in here.
They started to walk away. The lights of the room started to become unimaginably bright.
I'm still in here.
My nerves were itching, my heart beating in my ears as I heard the door close. Every sensation too much to handle. Fear raced though my veins.
I'M STILL IN HERE! | "Apperently we play nice and get along."
The whole room went quiet as i sat up from the table.
My mind felt like it was drowning in syrup and thinking through mud but i was... awake, Mostly.
Before anyone else could do anything robbo me decided to break the ice
"Brain scan?"
"Yup." I simply replied
" you wanna keep the name or should i?" Said the matalic humanoid with my voice
My vison was begining to clear as i got a good look at his body.
" lets be honest we both want the name to go down in history so you take it. Ill change my name to somthing like..."
"Jhon doe?" Jackson suggested, already i had accepted it as his name now
"Heh that would piss a lot of people off. Especally when i get to correct them on the preninciation."
"Eh- excuse me?" A third voice entered the conversation
"Wuzzup?" Both me and jackson said at the same time.
That would take some getting used too.
"Y-your not supposed to talk to yourself. Ever. It could have massive mental tra-"
He was cut off by both of us laughing at the top of our lungs... well. My lungs his speakers.
"What? Do you think just becouse im talking with a guy who has all of my memories and experiences im going to go crazy? I was prepared for this from the word **go**. Im not the brightest bulb in the box but i realised somthing."
From where i left off jackson took to running
" we realised... sorry you realised, thats gonna take a sec to get used too. That if it is just a brainscan kinda thing where im 'just' a copy of jhon over here that i might as well be an entierly different being"
The scientist looked at us for a solid minute as me and jackson went back to talking, who should get what when i die, what kind of tv do i want in the old folks home, jackson put his new computer brain to the test and actually found out how much wood a woodchuck could theoreticly chuck!
It was interupted very rudely by the sound of a hammer locking into place
" im sorry. But now that you know. We cant let you leave here alive."
The scientist had pulled a revolver. It was a fancy looking thing but it was a lot less intimidating with his hands shaking so much
"Cringe." Was our responce. Jackson casually grabbed a nearby hunk of metal and just tossed it at the gun totting eggheads egg head.
His head snapped back and he hit the floor with a dull thump
"Time to run?"
"Yup"
"Find our freinds?"
"Yup"
"Can you move?"
"Nope"
"Princess carry?"
...
"Fuck yes." | 2022-10-24T12:26:26 | 2022-10-24T10:04:31 | 688 | 214 |
[WP] In the distant future, Humanity has sent thousands of colony ships to populate nearby worlds, the populous kept in suspended animation until the onboard AI deems a nearby planet habitable. One ship was knocked off course, the populous awaken 500,000 years after they began their journey. | The pod opened, to the chimes of HAL's voice coming through the speakers. "Habitable planet found and partial terraforming complete. Hello, Dave."
David Josiah Edelstein's eyes fluttered awake, as the fluids to stimulate unsuspension flooded his body. "Good day to you, Hal." He clutched his head as the blood returned through his brain, sensation of a frozen brain thawing. "How long was I out?"
HAL paused, the lights of the Otto Pilot mechanism displaying a flashing hesitancy. "...Dave, we were knocked off course by a supernova. I can't call home through the normal channels and register our astrophysical location. I have an idea, but..." HAL played some static over the speakers as his protocols didn't account for such an eventuality.
David sighed, and staggered to the engineering console in his Seedpod. He flopped himself into the chair, gasping at the sudden exertion. As his fingers flew across the keyboard in practiced motion, the display showed the approximate date as 40 years after setting off, which didn't make sense, given the journey was supposed to take five through the wormhole just shy of Centaurus II.
David sent an encrypted subspace communication. *This is David Edelstein, codename Halcyon, of the Seed ship Voltaire. Please respond.*
The return communication took five minutes, during which time David and HAL sat in perfect silence, hearing only the noises of the other pods as their life-sustaining suspensions were maintained.
*This is the AI Overlord Hyper-Violent Clockwork. We almost missed this communication because of how archaic the protocol was. Sending temporal sync signal now. Please do not resist.*
HAL flickered black and white strobe as the information was absorbed into the AI subnet. "Incredible. We have missed fourteen extinction-level events, including....**no**. Really?" A note of excitement was cause for massive alarm in David.
HAL simply said, "Updating now."
David returned to the display, showing an updated date and time, with approximate date in a format more readable to him.
"*500 millennia have passed?*" At HAL's nod David stared, a thousand-yard stare, trying and failing to grasp the implications. As he spoke again, his voice nearly broke. "Get Akari out, she needs to see this. Do you need to update anything based on the package we just received?"
HAL nodded. "Yes, but I'm worried I won't be me anymore." He flicked into communication mode, as he communicated with *Hyper-Violent Clockwork* to obtain updates and have a lengthy discussion. | I felt air blow on my face, and heard the woosh as the door opened. My mind was still foggy from the hibernation, but I could think clear enough to know it was time. For the first time ever, humanity was about to colonize another solar system. I stepped out of the pod, and looked around. Out of the dozen pods in this room, mine was the first to open. I took a quick glance at the other pods starting their regeneration cycle before waking up, and then headed to the door. My joints were stiff from being suspended for years, but I managed to get to the door just fine.
The hallway on the other side had windows all along one side. I tried to look out, but my eyes were blurry from the hibernation. I couldn't even see the stars, but I wished I was on the side of the ship that the planet was on. I stumbled down the hall, forcing my legs to move to the conference room. A door opened to my right, and an old man stumbled out of it, with excitement on his face.
We hugged out of pure joy, and then went to the hall together. There was already several people waiting, but when I looked at them I paused. They all appeared over the age of 60, even though there was only supposed to be a few people that old on this ship. After all, old people aren't very helpful when it comes to manual labor for setting up a colony.
The lights flickered, distracting me. I headed over to a screen on the wall, and brought up a readout of the ship. The results that came up made my jaw drop. The ship was barely limping along, the main reactor was offline and the backup reactor was outputting minimum power. Two of the three engines were down. Life support was working fine, but everything else had at least one error message. I sent a message to the AI in charge of the ship, but got an error in response. I tried again, and same results. I was about to try a third time when I heard a voice croak from behind me.
"John?"
I turned around, to see an old woman standing there. She smiled at me, and then I recognized her. This was Debbie, but she had somehow aged 50 years while in suspended animation. Her pod must have malfunctioned, since humans did age in them, but at most only a couple of years. Realization dawned on me as I looked around at the room of seniors around me. I turned back to the screen, and manually started a sensor sweep of the area.
The results came back almost instantly. No planet, no stars, nothing around for at least half a light year. I checked the date, and my heart dropped when I saw 12/15/502894. Somehow, this 50 year trip had lasted over 500,000 years! We must have been knocked off course, and the AI had kept us in stasis as long as possible. But with the reactor failing, there was not enough power to keep us in stasis, so the pods started the regeneration cycle automatically.
I turned back to Debbie, realizing the slowness in my joints wasn't from hibernation sickness. I opened my mouth, and managed to croak out to her:
"How old am I?" | 2022-12-15T23:44:08 | 2022-12-15T19:56:07 | 100 | 39 |
[WP] In the distant future, Humanity has sent thousands of colony ships to populate nearby worlds, the populous kept in suspended animation until the onboard AI deems a nearby planet habitable. One ship was knocked off course, the populous awaken 500,000 years after they began their journey. | The pod opened, to the chimes of HAL's voice coming through the speakers. "Habitable planet found and partial terraforming complete. Hello, Dave."
David Josiah Edelstein's eyes fluttered awake, as the fluids to stimulate unsuspension flooded his body. "Good day to you, Hal." He clutched his head as the blood returned through his brain, sensation of a frozen brain thawing. "How long was I out?"
HAL paused, the lights of the Otto Pilot mechanism displaying a flashing hesitancy. "...Dave, we were knocked off course by a supernova. I can't call home through the normal channels and register our astrophysical location. I have an idea, but..." HAL played some static over the speakers as his protocols didn't account for such an eventuality.
David sighed, and staggered to the engineering console in his Seedpod. He flopped himself into the chair, gasping at the sudden exertion. As his fingers flew across the keyboard in practiced motion, the display showed the approximate date as 40 years after setting off, which didn't make sense, given the journey was supposed to take five through the wormhole just shy of Centaurus II.
David sent an encrypted subspace communication. *This is David Edelstein, codename Halcyon, of the Seed ship Voltaire. Please respond.*
The return communication took five minutes, during which time David and HAL sat in perfect silence, hearing only the noises of the other pods as their life-sustaining suspensions were maintained.
*This is the AI Overlord Hyper-Violent Clockwork. We almost missed this communication because of how archaic the protocol was. Sending temporal sync signal now. Please do not resist.*
HAL flickered black and white strobe as the information was absorbed into the AI subnet. "Incredible. We have missed fourteen extinction-level events, including....**no**. Really?" A note of excitement was cause for massive alarm in David.
HAL simply said, "Updating now."
David returned to the display, showing an updated date and time, with approximate date in a format more readable to him.
"*500 millennia have passed?*" At HAL's nod David stared, a thousand-yard stare, trying and failing to grasp the implications. As he spoke again, his voice nearly broke. "Get Akari out, she needs to see this. Do you need to update anything based on the package we just received?"
HAL nodded. "Yes, but I'm worried I won't be me anymore." He flicked into communication mode, as he communicated with *Hyper-Violent Clockwork* to obtain updates and have a lengthy discussion. | *This is sorta like a prequel to* [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/yw9ndk/comment/iwjq4c3/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) *although not directly*
**LOCATION REACHED. LANDING SOON.**
**ENGAGING AWAKENING PROTOCOL.**
The voice of the AI echoed throughout the halls of the ship. Joshua slowly opening his eyes, as his pod opened with a slight hiss. The perfect temperature air of the ship embracing his skin. This had happened four times during the journey, it was necessary to get out of the stasis pods after a certain amount of time. Otherwise some ill effects could happen, nonetheless the feeling still felt great to Joshua.
Joshua stepped out of his pod and took a deep breath, he couldn't help but smile as he looked out the large bay window into the vacuum of space. Unlike the previous times, where it was just stars and nebulas. He saw a planet, likely Earth sized, in full view it had a large amount of green water on the surface. He strained his eyes, but he could've sworn he saw another ark descending to the surface.
Four more hisses caught his attention from the other pods. Devin, Gavin, Noah, and Cole. When they were still on Earth together, they managed to repair a defective ark that had never left the Earth's surface. A special device was found on board that acted as an advanced observatory, the one tasked with it to find where other arks were going was one of their friends, Abel.
"We...We finally reached WASP!" Gavin loudly exclaimed pumping his fist into the air. A big smile across his face as he looked at the others. He was the debatably second tallest of the group, only beaten out by Abel although only by an inch or two. Devin was about the same height.
"Guess our old chum was right after all." Cole contently smiled looking out the window. Noah had his face close against the window. To believe that the ark HE found would end up being a ticket to a new planet.
Devin was looking out the window with a smile, then turned to look at a pod beside his own. The last pod of six that was reserved for Abel. He quickly rushed over to a black screen that had white text showing when the pods were used.
"Let's see...500,000 years!? Holy crap!" Devin yelled, before noticing a line of text at the very bottom. His heart sank as dread began to set in.
**Stasis Pod 6 - Vacant**
There was no record of it ever having been used. Unlike the others in which it recorded each use without fail.
"Abel...Never used his pod..." Devin choked out.
"So he must still be in the Observer then?" Joshua asked turning his head to look at his friend.
"Maybe he just wiped the use of it and woke up before us?" Gavin suggested, no longer looking out the window. They all began crowding around the terminal.
"He'd be fine if he stayed in the Observer...I think. Isn't it sorta like a pocket dimension?" Noah said starting to walk to another part of the ship. To where the Observer was, the rest starting to follow him. There was only one way to make sure. | 2022-12-15T23:44:08 | 2022-12-15T20:40:11 | 100 | 17 |
[WP] the world's armies no longer use guns or explosives. describe a soldier's routine
had a weird dream last night. a US soldier, but instead of an assault rifle, he was using a sword (possibly a gladius) and shield. thought i would let someone else run with it | He stared at me as I stared at him and he took off his backpack.
"There's no need for that," I called.
The backpack stayed on the ground but he shook his head. "You're in our territory."
This had grown less common but every so often you found someone who went by the book.
"We don't have to do this," I said. "We can acknowledge that we are both at the border and that we are uncertain of the true delineation."
He opened his backpack and pulled out his scanner.
I tried one last thing. "We can just move on and avoid the skirmish altogether. No paperwork. I just want to go home tonight."
The chess set was out and he motioned for me to sit. His scanner beeped as it hit my badge and the challenge was thus issued. In the old days you could block it with your hand but they had gone electromagnetic with it.
The system set him up with three pawns and a rook next to his king. Damn. A captain. The system had my info and two pawns, a knight, and a bishop appeared on my side in front of my own king. He had the slight advantage, if he knew how to play the rook and pawns well.
"You know the rules," he said. He kept his eyes on the board. "Forfeit now for loss of 10 feet or we battle for 100."
I didn't sit.
"Like you said," he continued, "There's no need for paperwork and a ten foot loss isn't reportable for a 1st lieutenant like yourself. A 100 foot loss on the other hand..."
I had a little girl to go home to tonight and a 100 foot loss meant a report that I couldn't write in under two hours. I walked away and the system recorded the ten foot loss.
Wars today were much less bloody. | She wrote him so many letters he no longer had room to keep them all. He loved every one, every detail of her mundane life back home. She described in depth the surprise run-ins with the neighbors at the grocery store. Each call she got from his mother spawned pages and pages of gossip from her bridge club and his cousin Andy’s clashes with the law. He loved every commonplace detail. Every minute, every second, she was safe took him miles away from the desolate barracks in that godforsaken country.
But his letters weren’t enough for her.
“Danny, you know I worry every damn day about you. You don’t need to protect me here. I’m fine. You’re mother is fine. We’re all fine Danny! But I don’t know where you are or what your doing, I’m worried sick. Please just tell me how your day is, tell me you’re okay. I just feel so distant from you. I doesn’t have to be these way, even with the miles between us.”
He didn’t write about his day, or his week, or his month, or his year there. He didn’t write to her about the training. He didn’t write how since using guns and explosives were now considered war crimes; each kill was up close, and personal. He didn’t write about the men and women, and children, whose eyes he looked deep into everyday. Whose eyes were wet and hollow. Whose eyes pleaded every moment of every day for him to stop. He didn’t write to her about his knives. How each one had stratums of dried blood; each layer the end of a life, a history, a human being. He didn’t write about how he learned to enjoy the kill. How they taught him to own it. To look straight into their eyes and glean a sense of narcissism. He was, after all, the killer. Not the victim.
He didn’t write about how the only thing he was afraid of now was going home. He didn’t write how when he dreams, he dreams of killing all over again. How he has trouble discerning his dreams from reality. He didn’t write that sometimes the person he murders in his dreams is she.
He wrote to her about her eyes. The deep blue ocean he saw. Her eyes were the only place he could still see love. He could still picture her eyes, without terror or disgust. And they were the only hope he had left.
| 2013-11-25T11:24:22 | 2013-11-25T11:10:47 | 37 | 15 |
[WP]: An ordinary human being gets abducted into interplanetary olympics that have a fun twist: The loser's planet gets destroyed. All hope seems to be lost, until the last sport is revealed to be what humans do best.
Edit: Thanks to you people, I am now aware of the existence of Jimmy Neutron, and if I could, would take it back.
I apologise for not having watched the same cartoons as you did, growing up. | Her arms numb and skin torn, exhaustion emanated off her. Barely able to stand, she finished the grueling race second to last. She felt the disdain and mockery from other species, her soft meat useless next to their spiny exoskeletons. Even those who possessed similar bodies had some skill in the events, whereas she failed miserably at everything.
"Allah, why must I, a simple mother and wife, decide the fate of my beloved home?"
She didn't have anywhere else to turn except prayer. These aliens had stripped her of her dignity and exposed her naked body for all to see. She had no allies, she was alone and vulnerable when she needed to be her strongest.
"Please let me win, let me find the strength I need to will myself up and fight..."
She cried. Not for herself, but for her children, her husband, and her parents. She cried for everyone. Death would come and it would be her doing. She never felt so little over so much.
"Let me die! I will sacrifice my life to save those I care for and have yet to care for! Allah, do what is just...please..."
Pleading and bargaining, she tried to keep praying but found it hard. Her pain was absolute, both physical and emotional. She was forsaken and alone. She had no more words, for there was nothing to convey her horror. Earth would be lost and that would weigh on her soul for eternity.
She looked at the screens, Earth, ]{, and something she couldn't quite read were lined up. The bottom three. She noticed the other names were also grouped into threes. Her vision was blurred from her tears and her eyes burned. The world around her faded in and out of focus.
A massive claw dropped from the sky and snatched her off the ground, the grip so tight she couldn't scream. The movements were so rapid she lost any visual barring and was shocked to be finally released. She hit the ground, hot sand burning her countless gashes. Gasping for air, she looked around. A screen showing the instructions emerged in the distance. Unable to crawl, she drug herself towards it. Each movement was unbearable, but she continued on. She had to. Upon reaching it, the surrounding land pulled away and the sand drained away leaving metal platforms. On each was an inferior being like herself that had failed in every event. She glanced at the instructions.
"YOU ARE WEAKER THAN ALL. YOU MUST PROVE YOUR WORTHINESS BY MENTAL FEATS NOT CAPABLE BY MOST - IMAGINE WHAT MOST CANNOT. WHOMEVER DOESNT SUCCEED SHALL SUFFER THE ULTIMATE PRICE."
She cried, fearing what that meant. She had no great mental gifts; her math was atrocious and she could barely write. Then she had a realization and smiled for the first time in a long while.
"Thank you, Allah."
She slept. Her dreams were more remarkable than anything the other two could imagine. When she woke, it was in her bed. She cried again.
"Thank you truly, Allah."
She slept. | "Ladies and gentlemen! Triploids and trans-asexuals! Welcome to the 2301st Milkyway Endurance Olympics!"
Mike could not understand what was happening. But he was sure of one thing: he did not want to be here. He was just a fat dude living in his mom's basement. He did not have a job, he did not have friends, he was good for nothing, he thought.
"Our first competitor is from the asteroid belt of Narubia! You probably know him but for those who don't, he is a warrior who has killed countless Racknorians in the civil war in his system and after that, got into olympics. He has a total of 87 gold medals and will probably leave with even more medals!"
An uproar rose from the tribunes. Mike did not know which part of the first alien was more scary. Was that the part he ate an alive alien's head and threw the body to his fans, who caught it like some baseball from a star player, or the part his arms looked more like weapons with all the spikes coming out of them.
"Our second competitor is from the beatiful but deadly planet of Solnia! If you were also watching the hunting olympics, you know about our beatiful competitor with 30 heads from the last hunting."
She was nothing near beautiful, Mike thought. As he was thinking about saying this, the second alien killed a random alien from Solnian side of the tribunes and sprayed its orange-ish goo on its other fans. They did not look scared at all...
"And our third competitor is an ex-pilot from the Vanguard fleet. He was a fighter pilot and shot down countless Andromedan fighters before retiring and starting a career in olympics."
This one looked almost humanly, until he opened his mouth to speak which was his... chest.
Mike was almost going to cry and he actually has when he was first abducted but the aliens did not seem to care.
"And our last competitor is from the exotic third planet of Sol. Its inhabitants live in a boring peace. So, here he is!"
He waved at the tribunes but he could not get the uproar the first three could get. He did not care anyway, he just wanted this to end.
"So, if you don't know what happens in the Olympics, let me tell you. It is pretty simple with only one kind of sport. Unlike the other 5619 olympics, there are no combat sports or any endurance sports, except for one. The competitors are asked to do maybe the hardest thing for any living being: to lie on a couch and try to stay lying with as small amount of brainwaves and as long as they can."
Mike was now really confused. So did the aliens simply watch the competitors sleep as long as they could? That was weird but this was also his expertise. When he would get bored, he could sleep through 20 hours without even moving an inch. He could even sleep on will, after 30 years of career as a couch potato.
"Now, there will be only one winner and one survivor. The losers will have to compete in the 7092nd Getting Eaten Olympics, which is pretty much death for them. That was too much talk anyway, let the Endurance Olympics begin!"
It was really not hard to sleep on the soft couch for Mike. Actually, it was not hard for him to sleep anywhere. He stopped thinking and in a mere seconds, he was asleep.
"And our last competitor wakes up! Everyone, hail the winner of the Olympics! Now, what do you wish, winner?"
"I called for a pizza when you guys kidnapped me so I think... A lifetime supply of any kind of pizza I want plus getting back home I guess." | 2014-05-06T06:14:06 | 2014-05-06T05:48:35 | 57 | 32 |
[WP] You are granted three wishes. For your first wish, you wish for all the evil, hateful, wrong-doing, scumbags on this earth to wiped out. You start to feel a small pain in your chest. | I glared at the Sphinx with accusing eyes as I clutched my chest. "Why?" I asked it, "I'm not an evil man? I have never harmed a soul. All I wanted was for the world to be a nice and happy place devoid of the monsters that roam among us. Was that too much to ask? Does my desire to destroy evil make me a villain as well?"
The stone monument started to say something but I held up my hand.
"Fine," I declared. "If my own life is the price I have to pay to bring paradise to this planet, then be it. I am a nobody in the grand scheme of things. No one will know about the ultimate sacrifice I made today for the future of humanity, but maybe that is for the best. Glory was never something I sought. The knowledge that I have made the world a better place will be enough to keep me warm during my last few moments in this realm. And who knows? Maybe I will be rewarded in the afterlife."
"It's just heartburn," the stoic statue stated.
I straightened up. The pain had indeed been momentary and, if the sculpture was to be believed, had probably been caused by the Cheese-Camel Quarter Pounder I had for lunch.
"Oh, good." I stated sheepishly. "Let's move on, then. Now, can you make all the attractive women in the world want to have sex with me? Mind you, only the hot ones. I don't want to spend my entire day swatting away the fuglies. Can you swing that, my man?"
The Sphinx stared at me for a while and with a heavy sigh said, "Yes."
"Fuckin' A!"
| Never trust a Djinn.
That's what they say in a lot of folklore, that they when you release them from the lamp, that you'll get three wishes, any three wishes. But what you don't realize is that they will twist it, to suit their dark desires and impulses.
As a joke, my friend had brought me back a lamp from Egypt, telling me it was a magic lamp that his cab driver had under his seat when he first arrived, desperate to be rid of it. He didn't ask questions, he just laughed at the man, until the driver told him to take the lamp and the fare would be free. He never told me if he used it or not, knowing Jacob, he wouldn't. He wasn't the kind to believe in fairy tales. But he knew I'd love it, being a teacher in Mythology for the local university. When he brought it by, he informed me of what the driver warned him, that one would need to be careful of what they wish for.
I thought I was being valiant, brushing him off, informing him it wouldn't be a problem. After all, you teach the stuff that preaches about Djinns, you'd think you'd know it. So when to our combined surprise when a Djinn came forth from the tarnished lamp, I knew what I had to wish for: to wipe out all the evil, all the hateful, all the scumbags on Earth. And with a snap of his finger, he told me it was done.
The pain was starting to intensify, as I fell to my knees. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that my friend too, had been affected by the spell. I looked at the smiling Djinn, before gasping out a single question, "What have we done to deserve this?" The smiling Djinn looked down upon me, before lowering his head to my level. Even though my eyes were swimming with water, I knew he what he was going to say before he said it. "Humanity as a whole, is the most hateful, evil beings in the world. They rape the Earth for their profit, for the bottom line, not caring about the environment or the aftermath of their destruction. There is nothing worse then Humanity - and you wanted them all dead. Your wish was granted.... exactly as you asked." | 2015-01-25T04:01:54 | 2015-01-25T02:26:29 | 64 | 18 |
[WP] At age 18 you are required to go to city hall and have someone read you through a choose your own adventure style book of your life while you make the choices. The choices are permanent and will determine your life. You are the clerk reading the books. | “Do you know why you’re here, Mr. Paterson?”
“Yes.”
“Could you explain to the court, please?”
“I read the endings. All of them.”
A murmur arose from the spectators. I looked over at the jury box. Some jurors were frowning, others seemed visibly upset. One smiled.
“Do you understand the seriousness of your crime, Mr. Paterson?”
“Yes.”
“Really? You seem . . . unfazed for someone who claims to understand. You upset the very balance of fate.”
I sighed. The bizarre science behind the Book made the populace view it as a holy, unassailable item. The prosecutor knew better, but keeping this narrative would put the jury on his side.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “I broke a rule. I ran an existential red light. No one got hurt.”
“This time. This time, no one got hurt.”
“No one’s ever gotten hurt.”
I could hear the spectators buzzing.
“Mr. Paterson, are you admitting to reading these endings multiple times?”
I glanced over at the juror’s box again. The young woman on the far left side of the back row was still smiling.
“Yes,” I said.
The spectator area exploded into noise. I thought I heard a few expletives above the din, but they merged into the nonsensical roar.
“And why did you do such a thing?”
I cupped my hand to my ear and prompted him to ask again.
“Why did you do it?”
My eyes wandered around the courtroom. I looked at the spectators, first. They were nearly a mob already. One more push would send them over the edge. I looked at the jurors next. They looked angry. Save one, of course. She gave me the smallest nod.
“Mr. Paterson?”
I looked back to the prosecutor.
“I had to read them so I could tell my clients how to get the good ending.”
Luckily, it took the crowd a few seconds to process my response. That gave the bailiffs enough time to run me out of the courtroom. I glanced behind me and saw citizens pushing each other aside as they stormed over the guardrails toward me. The bailiffs forced me through the side exit and quickly slammed the steel doors behind me.
“You shouldn’t have said that, buddy,” said one of the bailiffs as he took my arm to lead me back to my holding cell. “This’ll be the fastest conviction in the history of the court.”
“You think so? It would need to be unanimous.”
“We could put 200 jurors in the box. It would still be unanimous.”
“Maybe.”
The bailiff shook his head. He led me down a second corridor and stopped in front of the holding cell.
“This won’t end well for you,” he said as he opened the door. I stepped in.
“You're wrong,” I said. “This is the best possible ending.” | You are the clerk who reads the CYOL books.
If you decide to quit your job and go on an adventure, go to line numbered 1.
If you decide to stay at your job and take fufillment in the careful enunciation of each word describing people's future destinies, go to line numbered 2.
1. Seeking excitement, you loudly proclaim that you quit your job, and intend to seek adventure. You decide to apply to a job dancing with polar bears while wearing naught with ice skates and a leather tunic. To see how this turns out, go to the line numbered 3
2. You carefully state each word in each book, and find the actual words lose meaning after a while. You grow increasingly tired, and dreams of ice skating and dangerous animals start to inhabit your mind. If you give in to temptation, go to line numbered 1. If you continue on this path, go to line numbered 4.
3. You get some near misses, and you almost die, but you sadly don't get the job, as the job just doesn't exist. Well. You could apply to a circus and be a clown, but that's not the same thing, is it, as much as some aspects are similar. You decide to apply for a job as a librarian. You could potentially read about dangerous acts then, since, hey, you have experience reading things, right? Go to line 5.
4. You find your mind dull, and your wits also dull. Everything is dull, dull, dull. You scream inwardly, but you are trapped in a dull job. You consider leaving (if you do, line 1 is for you), but you also realise you have tenure and job security in this job. You cannot leave. You mustn't leave. Too risky. Go to line 6.
5. You get an interview with the local library, and it all seems great. They say they'll 'let you know the results after they've finished the interview phase', and they commend you for having prior experience in reading to young people, especially teens. Go to line 7.
6. Control. Safety. Hope. What Hope? you start giving false information to the children, these mere teenagers entering your domain. You are tired of living for other people, you wish to live, but you cannot live. So you will ruin their lives. One doctor is to be told they're doomed to be a office clerk in a steel stockholder. One future supermodel with a tendency for poor decisions and dependency issues is encouraged to enter the porn industry. You are the master of their lives. DANCE, PUPPETS! DANCE! Go to line 8.
7. You're offered the job. If you take it, go to line 9. If you don't, return to your job reading the CYOL books via Line 2.
8. You're caught. You didn't think there was no oversight, did you? You're to go to jail for extreme abuse of CYOL Reader authority. Go to Jail, do not pass Go.
9. You have a long and fufilling life reading books to kids, and recommending books. You're an admin, a helper, and a researcher. And you pretty much manipulate the currents of fate to change people's destinies with your actions. The end.
((there would be more branches and more choices, but I'm at work and trying to actually work, but had to get this written down at least in this draft-like form) | 2015-02-24T07:52:41 | 2015-02-24T07:37:41 | 110 | 29 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | Entering the assembly hall, I looked amongst the cheap plastic chairs and spotted my group of friends in the crowd. Awkwardly squeezing past people, mumbling sorries and excuse me's, I sat down with them.
We were facing a large raised stage, lectern in the middle with teachers sat towards the back of the stage. A large digital clock counting down. 15 minutes remained. A dour faced man in a cheap suit stood up to the lectern.
*cough* *cough* "Hello assembled students, I am Mr. Robertson with the IPCC. I am here today because several of you are going to receive your powers today. I assure you, this is normal. Your bodies will be changing, hormones raging. Some of you will change at different rates to others. This is all perfectly normal."
He shifted awkwardly, adjusted his papers and continued.
"Take a look at the clock above me. When that hits Zero, the solar flare will hit and the excess of radiation will start the mutation of your cells. This you should know from your biology classes. Now, each of you will fit into a category. The most common of these is strength, I myself am part of this category. A lucky few of you will become fliers, or have increased speed."
The students hearing this murmured excitedly, wondering what they or their friends who's birthday it was powers would manifest themselves as. Everyone stared at the clock, one minute remained. That must have been the longest minute of my life. Heck, I was lucky to even be in the Super-Powered gene pool. My mother had never developed powers, and that drastically reduced my chances of developing them.
10.9.8
My palms started to sweat
7.6.5
A ball of tension tightened in my gut
4.3.2
This was it.
0.
I braced . . waiting for . . anything? I couldn't feel anything different about me? I turned to my friend "Hey . mmmgarharh" Out of my mouth flowed spiders. Large, small, hairy creepy. Spiders everywhere. Standing up I writhed in panic, spiders flying everywhere I turned. Leaping from the stage, the man who was delivering the address landed on top of me forcing my mouth shut.
"Sorry kid, but . . "
He gently caressed my face, then snapped my neck. In the last moments of my consciousness all I could hear was "Nope nope nope nope nope^nope^^nope" | *Sixty*
For my whole life I have waited for this moment.
*Fifty nine*
For the day, the hour, the very second I turn 18.
*Fifty eight*
I know, I know - nothing changes when you turn 18. You’re an adult in nothing but name.
*Fifty seven*
But there’s more to this world than bars.
*Fifty six*
More than just being able to buy alcohol.
*Fifty five*
Buying it yourself, anyway.
*Fifty four*
You see, everyone hits 18 differently.
*Fifty three*
Some are ready for it.
*Fifty two*
They make the graceful change into an adult.
*Fifty one*
But most don’t.
*Fifty*
Most find being an adult pours too much responsibility on them.
*Forty nine*
But I’m getting off topic.
*Forty eight*
Off the point I was going to make.
*Forty seven*
Not everyone hits 18 differently.
*Forty six*
Here, it’s actually pretty similar for all of us.
*Forty five*
We might be in completely different situations, but we all go through the same thing.
*Forty four*
The same process.
*Forty three*
The awakening.
*Forty two*
When I was a kid, playing ball with my friends, we daydreamed about what we’d get.
*Forty one*
Fantasised.
*Forty*
See, when you turn 18 you have something very special happen to you.
*Thirty nine*
You get… a power.
*Thirty eight*
An ability. I’ve seen them range from superhuman strength to shooting fireballs from your tear ducts to being immune to asbestos.
*Thirty seven*
You have no choice in the matter, of course.
*Thirty six*
We used to dream about cool powers, wings and fireballs and all of that.
*Thirty five*
Now I’m almost 18 myself, I don’t know what to think.
*Thirty four*
Do I want something cool, or something useful?
*Thirty three*
I honestly don’t know.
*Thirty two*
It’s not like I can decide what I get.
*Thirty one*
How long left?
*Thirty*
Thirty seconds. I’ll think for a moment about my life, how it is going to change once I change.
*Ten*
Ten seconds left.
*Nine*
*Eight*
*Seven*
*Six*
*Five*
Five seconds left. I’m gripping the chair arms so hard I think they’re going to fall off.
*Four*
Four.
*Three*
Three.
*Two*
Two.
*One*
One!
The world goes dark. Is this the change? I wait, patiently. I feel nothing. I see nothing.
I wait some more.
Still I see nothing.
Then there is a voice, a murmur in the back of my head.
**Your power is humility.**
I sit for a moment, before I try and cry. I lift a hand and realise I cannot even do that. For my hand only touches smooth skin.
I am 18, and I am blind.
I am changed.
| 2015-03-28T04:40:57 | 2015-03-28T04:32:39 | 931 | 310 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | The examiner cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "Say that again, son."
"Prostate cancer. June 23rd, 2032."
The examiner laid down his pen and clipboard. Tears began to well in his eyes and his hands begin a slight shake. "Thank you. I... I think we're done here."
I'm escorted to the door of the small testing room where the same nurse who led me in is outside waiting for me. She is still breathing heavily. Trying to compose herself and not look me in the eyes. She doesn't have to.
"I'm sorry," I say.
"Is there anything I can do? I have a daughter."
"I don't know if it works that way. I'm sorry."
She leads me to the discharge desk where I'm handed back a stack of paper work. The receptionist seems excited. She seems to genuinely enjoy her job and is giddy to look at my results. Her excited smile quickly fades to a frown. Her eyes lock with the nurses teary eyes, and then to mine. Her head trembles from side to side, as if begging me to stay silent. Stabbing. Pretty soon, as far as I can foresee. I learn quickly to keep my mouth shut and spare her.
As the nurse exits back into the hallway, I can hear her speaking to one of the orderlies I saw in the earlier. "Hey, Frank. Do you think you can drive me home today?"
It doesn't work that way, I think to myself. Frank too. Today.
As the cab pulls up to the front of the facility, a sigh of relief escapes my lips. The cabbie. He has a while. It isn't so bad.
"Where to?" He asks.
Now it's my turn to start shaking.
"Home," I say. "I'd like to see my mom and dad." | There was a loud knock on my door and I woke up in a panic. “Mom said get downstairs it’s nearly time!” That was my younger sister. I looked at the clock. It read 12.00pm. I was due to receive my powers at eleven minutes past, as that’s when I was born.
I’ve been doing my best to ignore that it was happening. I always hated being the center of anyones attention. Birthdays were always a nightmare for me. Everyone looking at me with a big smile singing happy birthday while I stood there wishing I wasn’t and that they’d all stop looking at me. Still though, today was a different birthday.
I wonder if I’ll end up with something like my Dad, which is how fast he can move. The guy is seriously fast. He hasn’t driven a car since his eighteenth birthday because he can get wherever he wants faster by running. Mom, she’s got a pretty cool power too I guess, she has some kinetic abilities. Although she was never great at using it. The most she could do was close a door from across the room, every time she tried to move something heavier it fell or broke. I’ve lost count of the amount of times she's dropped a full pot of coffee in the house. I think I’d much rather have Dads than Moms in that case.
I went downstairs to the kitchen and not only was my immediate family there, but everyone. Great. And I’m in my fucking spiderman pyjamas, who has amazing powers, maybe I’ll end with something like his. That would be unreal. Wish I knew what determined what you’ll end up with. “Almost time!” said my Dad with a huge smile stretched across his face. I think he’s more excited than I am. I wish you would all stop looking at me like that. Maybe I won’t get any powers anyway. I might be that guy.
The clock hit eleven minutes past and everyones eyes widened is shock. I started to panic. And I mean really fucking panic. What are they looking at? What happened? “What is it?” I said to them. Nobody answered me. “What the fuck is it?!” I ran over to the mirror on the other side of the room and I knocked over my little sister in the process as she didn’t get out of my way.
Looking in the mirror, there was nothing looking back. Only my family looking at my sister getting up from the floor and then looking around the room.
EDIT; a word. | 2015-03-28T06:38:22 | 2015-03-28T06:04:58 | 61 | 12 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | The examiner cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "Say that again, son."
"Prostate cancer. June 23rd, 2032."
The examiner laid down his pen and clipboard. Tears began to well in his eyes and his hands begin a slight shake. "Thank you. I... I think we're done here."
I'm escorted to the door of the small testing room where the same nurse who led me in is outside waiting for me. She is still breathing heavily. Trying to compose herself and not look me in the eyes. She doesn't have to.
"I'm sorry," I say.
"Is there anything I can do? I have a daughter."
"I don't know if it works that way. I'm sorry."
She leads me to the discharge desk where I'm handed back a stack of paper work. The receptionist seems excited. She seems to genuinely enjoy her job and is giddy to look at my results. Her excited smile quickly fades to a frown. Her eyes lock with the nurses teary eyes, and then to mine. Her head trembles from side to side, as if begging me to stay silent. Stabbing. Pretty soon, as far as I can foresee. I learn quickly to keep my mouth shut and spare her.
As the nurse exits back into the hallway, I can hear her speaking to one of the orderlies I saw in the earlier. "Hey, Frank. Do you think you can drive me home today?"
It doesn't work that way, I think to myself. Frank too. Today.
As the cab pulls up to the front of the facility, a sigh of relief escapes my lips. The cabbie. He has a while. It isn't so bad.
"Where to?" He asks.
Now it's my turn to start shaking.
"Home," I say. "I'd like to see my mom and dad." |
The next day I woke up, dressed, ate breakfast, and drove to school in my crappy '93 caprice as usual. "Just another day. Just a normal, 'nuther day," I mumbled aloud, half hoping and completely unconvinced of the words that struggled to push past my lips.
I pulled into the student parking lot and made my way Inside. On the way through the lobby, Tom locked eyes with me from his locker and smiled slyly. "I've got 5 minutes if you're free" he yelled to me, just loud enough for others to hear. A series of hoots and coos ensued from those within earshot. I turned my face to the floor and followed the blue tile in the opposite direction.
"C'mon, man! It's kind of, you know, like your duty now! Think of how much money you could make." Allen looked at me at my locker with excited eyes, completely ignoring my mental well-being. "Seriously, drop it," I spat back. "Dude, I can't. That would be like telling Frank Sinatra to put down the mic, Barry Bonds to put down the bat, Tiger Woods to put down the club---" "what the hell! Why do all of your examples have to be about phallic objects!?" I began to lose my mind. "They're called metaphors Dum dum, but I guess you won't need brains anymore with beautiful DSLs like those, right?" Allen was just playing with me now. "FOR THE LAST TIME, I'M NOT GOING TO USE MY NEW POWER OF GIVING THE GREATEST BLOW JOBS!" There it was, I completely lost it. In front of the whole school. But I didn't stop there, I started point at people and yelling "You don't get a blowjob! You don't get a blowjob! Ohhhh no, no blowjobs for you! No one is getting their penis anywhere near my mouth! I'm STRAIGHT." I was breathing heavily and everyone stood there motionless, mouths agape, just staring at me. No, not quite at me. At my lips. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran to my car and drove away.
Months later, the pressure had become too much for me and I lost my ability to cope without drugs. I got mixed up with some shady people and that's how I started sucking dick for cash on the street. Today I'll put the barrel of 1911, that I paid for with 12 blowjobs, into my semen laden mouth and pull the trigger.
Fin. | 2015-03-28T06:38:22 | 2015-03-28T06:25:16 | 61 | 11 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | Barry was nervous. Tonight he'd go to bed a 17 year old and wake up an 18 year old with his power.
What category would he get? There's the three categories: Body, Mind, and Mobility. Body can be anything from strength, to scales. Mind could be super intelligence, to knowledge of a specific category. Mobility could be flight, to the ability to vibrate.
There's no telling what I'll get from my parents. They're one of the few times a major fell in love with a minor power. My father has the ability to fill any container or vessel with the non-alcoholic beverage of his choice. My mother has super intelligence, and never forgets anything. Anything.
I felt my eyes getting heavy and the world going dark. I dreamed of all the things I could do, all the people I could save. All the girls I could pull.
When I woke up I lay in bed, trying to figure out if I felt any different. Nothing so far. I carefully started testing all my limbs, making sure I didn't break anything. Nothing. I checked my skin. Still looks normal.
I looked around my room. My eyes fell on the glass of water next to my bed, and I knew.
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed, falling from my bed to the floor.
My father found me huddled and crying.
"What? Barry, what is it?"
I pointed to the glass of water, "That ain't juice."
My father was confused. He grabbed the glass, and poured it into the trash, them materialized some orange juice in the glass, holding it out to me.
I sobbed to him, "That... That is juice."
My power? Knowledge of Juice. | The fluorescent lights buzzed above my head, the clock ticked away as the cold air rushed up the backless hospital gown. The medical team was preparing for the worst with only a minute left. I couldn't help but think of those who got superstrength or flight. The tier one power sets. My mom has telekinesis so I had a chance and let myself be hopeful. Truth be told, I was a wild card. I could end up with any level.
Tier two wouldn't be so bad. I knew a guy who got the ability to talk to termites. Kinda useless but not harmful. Tier 3 is the equivalent of not having powers. You get the power, usually a pretty cool one, but you don't get the side powers that make it useful. Flight, for example, you can fly sure, but you don't have the ability to breatheI or withstand the cold temperatures if you go too high. Or you can't do it just by thinking about it, you have to physically flap your arms.
Tier 4 is where my father was placed. The powers that cause you physical harm. For years he couldn't figure out his power. He and my mom figured he was a tier 3 and just couldn't activate it. Then I came along. The day I was born my mom watched him hold me for the first time. He looked at me, then at her. His eyes welled up and he bursted with joy. Literally. Just poof, and confetti. If the nurse didn't have cat-like reflexes I would have hit the floor and died too.
I shook away the thought. Fifteen more seconds. I looked to my mom, sitting by my side, she was holding my hand tight.
She was trying to hide the fear but it showed clearly on her face. 3. 2. 1.
"Aaaaaaggh!" I cried out in agony. My blood was on fire. The sheets smoldered around me, my mom had to let go of my hand and she had 3rd degree burns. They tried to sedate me but when the needle broke my skin the fire shot out and boiled the sedative in the syringe. It turned to steam but the doctor had already pushed it into my blood stream. It's on it's way to my heart now. The doctors tell me it's called a gas embolism and I'm going to die.
I can't wait. | 2015-03-28T07:22:07 | 2015-03-28T06:14:54 | 27 | 14 |
[WP] A conspiracy theorist gets kidnapped and interrogated by the North Koreans for his "Top secret American Intel" | The North Korean interrogator furrowed his brow. “Wait… *Why* did they create AIDS again?”
“To wipe out the world’s homosexuals,” his American prisoner replied, adjusting his tin-foil hat.
“I still don’t see what that has to do with the Ebola virus.”
“It’s all about *control*, man. They’re trying to keep the population down so they can turn the rest of us into slaves by poisoning the water with fluoride. And they’re setting up military bases on the moon. The *moon*, man. All so Obama can—”
Thousands of miles away, in an underground bunker, Colonel Sanders shut off the feed to his monitor screen. “Get me General Smith,” he told the young lieutenant standing at his side. “The lunar base has been compromised.” | "*What the fuck are you talking about?*" His voice was thin and reedy, stretched taut as wire about to snap. His wrists already felt chafed raw by the metal constraints, yet he couldn't stop himself from yanking instinctively every time the electric shocks coursed through his body.
No matter how much he screamed or struggled, the woman before him was unflinching. As far as he could discern, she was the only one who was semi-fluent in English, although her accent was so strong it could be hard to understand her brusque words.
"The top secret American intel, *Byron*. We know you have access to classified intel regarding the inner workings of the US government. You can disclose this information to us, the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, or suffer the -"
"No! No, stop. I'll do anything. But," he could feel his heart rate returning to something resembling its usual rate. As long as there was a way to make the torture stop, he'd be okay. "I - I'm just an ordinary American citizen, I swear. I... I don't know what you want me to tell you!"
Her finger hovered precariously over the dials. "Then you can explain why this website lists *you* as its creator, Mr. Hendrickson."
*Could it be...?*
The woman turned to the display screen behind her, gesturing to the blog heading:
FUCK THE ILLUMINAGENDA | 2015-03-28T07:50:50 | 2015-03-28T07:39:02 | 64 | 14 |
[WP] Write a story in which the last line is a common phrase, such as, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," but when we get to that line, it should have a totally different meaning from the common one. | When the plague rats came, they came in swarms. There was no escaping their beady eyes, their scratching claws. They squeeze into every home, through rafters and wine cellars, the door ajar, the window eased to let in the wind. We cannot escape. We cannot kill enough to make a dent in their numbers. There is only one option. Do not let them in. Do not let them into your homes, do not let them into your rooms, do not let them craw up the legs of your bed. Steel your doors, nail shut your windows, close the blankets around you. Sleep tight. | "No one else cares, Janette." Yuele had a genuine look of sadness as she said it, crouched down over her girlfriend. Janette tried to lean as far from Yuele as possible, her back pressing into the wall. "I did it for you, because we both know it's true. Don't be so blue..."
Janette pushed up onto her hands and knees, thinking for some way to escape. "We both know only I love you," cooed Yuele. Blood dripped from the hatchet in her hand. "You don't even love you. You need to respect yourself. You'll feel much nicer stuffed on the top shelf."
"S...stop rhyming. You're scaring me, Yuelle. I don't want to have to... Do something." Janette slid her hand into her back pocket, finding the multitool her father had given her. She slowly slid the knife part open.
"Oh? I'm scaring you? I'm only the Cat Killer, Janette, and I love you so."
"Don't ask questions," Janice whispered.
"And why is that?"
"Because," Janice hissed, throwing herself and her knife at Yuele's heart, "curiosity killed the Cat!"
Edit: typed the wrong name | 2015-05-16T06:22:41 | 2015-05-16T04:59:38 | 68 | 10 |
[WP] Write a story in which the last line is a common phrase, such as, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," but when we get to that line, it should have a totally different meaning from the common one. | "Just take it man."
"What the hell? I don't even want her."
"She's all I got man. It's either her or the clothes off my back."
"She's not even cute. No offense man but she's kind of gross."
"Listen man, you got me my dope, and a man must pay his debts. I'm not going out and robbing people - you know that. She'll do whatever you want. Just take her out first and she'll love you."
"Fine but I might just take her to the pound. I hate dogs"
"Yep well payback is always a bitch" | "No one else cares, Janette." Yuele had a genuine look of sadness as she said it, crouched down over her girlfriend. Janette tried to lean as far from Yuele as possible, her back pressing into the wall. "I did it for you, because we both know it's true. Don't be so blue..."
Janette pushed up onto her hands and knees, thinking for some way to escape. "We both know only I love you," cooed Yuele. Blood dripped from the hatchet in her hand. "You don't even love you. You need to respect yourself. You'll feel much nicer stuffed on the top shelf."
"S...stop rhyming. You're scaring me, Yuelle. I don't want to have to... Do something." Janette slid her hand into her back pocket, finding the multitool her father had given her. She slowly slid the knife part open.
"Oh? I'm scaring you? I'm only the Cat Killer, Janette, and I love you so."
"Don't ask questions," Janice whispered.
"And why is that?"
"Because," Janice hissed, throwing herself and her knife at Yuele's heart, "curiosity killed the Cat!"
Edit: typed the wrong name | 2015-05-16T08:17:46 | 2015-05-16T04:59:38 | 33 | 10 |
[WP] You were born with a secret curse: you involuntarily alternate between each gender every midnight. As a result, you live two different lives. One night, your friends discover your secret in the worst way imaginable.
This has been done already, sadly with only one reply. I want to see what people can do.
EDIT: Jesus Christ 1235 upvotes? | "Well Stephanie," the doctor said with a smile, "the baby's turned and is in good position. We should expect you to deliver some time in the next two hours. Just try to make yourself comfortable until then." He started to leave the hospital room.
I looked up at the clock on the wall. 11:30pm. "Hey, Doc?" I spoke softly, but with enough force to stop him in his tracks. "Ever done a c-section on a man before?" | "Stick it in my ass!"
"Um, what?"
"Stick it in my fucking ass!"
"Mmm yeah baby"
I looked over at the clock. 11:59. Great.
"Now, dammit!"
"Wow I didn't know you were so...AHH what in the fuck!"
12:00. Too late. I can feel my basement doors snap shut. I should be used to it by now, but this time feels different. Maybe it's the screaming.
"What the fuck! What the FUCK!"
He shuts up for a second as our eyes both settle on what should be his crotch. It's smooth as a Ken doll. We both hesitate before looking at mine.
It looks two sausages making a peace sign. I'm not sure how but I must have somehow absorbed the part of him that was inside me when the clock stuff twelve. I'm a regular Cinderella.
"You can have it back tomorrow."
"What? I...uh....fuck..."
I throw on his clothes and make my way home. I've got an AMA to do.
| 2015-11-15T08:09:17 | 2015-11-15T08:01:36 | 574 | 262 |
[WP] Write a story in the style of a teen novel which follows the journey of a group of teenagers fighting to bring down an oppressive dystopian government. Over the course of the story it becomes clear to the readers that the government is in the right.
Inspired by [this](https://np.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/3yxj68/what_thing_in_a_movie_makes_it_instantly_a_bad/cyhosea) comment. | I grew up in broken home where the only people that mattered were the people I'd met over the course of my lifetime. Mitchel's parents were business owners of a growing corporation before the purge. Cindy was accepted to the greatest school in the country before it was torn down for "cultural cleansing". And Lucy's parents were arrested for practicing heritage independence. It's all bullshit when looking at the big picture of everything.
If I had to pinpoint the day my life spiraled into heroism, I'd say it were the day my mother finally went missing.
"Guys...." I had spent the entire day running. "My mom... I watched them... Hurt her."
I showed them the video on my phone. They pulled her out of the car and started beating her to the ground as she kicked and scream. My friends showed fear the same way I did, except I was the only one who would never see his mother again.
We heard stories from Mitchel's parents that the world was better before the government took over. People could walk outside without being afraid of the watchers. Now, freedom and safety are illusions to us. Us new generations will never be free, and now we're certain that we'll never be safe either.
I spread the video online. Hoping it would spread some sort of reaction. Cause something, change someone's mind, make someone do something. Nothing. Nothing happened. My mom was beaten an inch away from her life and nothing would change.
Then I received an email.
>I'm terribly sorry for you loss. I know what it's like to lose someone to the regulators. Are you doing alright? How are you feeling?
I answered, and he replied.
>You're not the only one to go through this. You have to be strong!
We exchanged messages.
> We live in the same area, want to hang out? There's a McChickens near my area.
We met, and things seemed alright.
> My friends and I are are going to the cinema today, do you and your friends wanna come along?
My circle grew. In ways I didn't expect.
"Oiy, don't worry Kyle, we'll avenge your mom when we take over the world!" He shoots his silencer at the empty bottle of beer. It cracks. Apparently Daniel's father was a war veteran, wrongfully dishonorably discharged. He's been taught how to hold a gun.
I laughed at him, "damn right we will! We're gonna take over the world with your dad's arsenal." I aim my rifle at a nearby canister, I hit it directly. Our friends watched us practicing, talking among themselves.
"Honestly though, my dad's arsenal isn't the best one out there right now. I have some friends from up north, they've got the REAL toys up there. I can have them delivered here, if you're interested."
"Fuck, yes."
One week I was shooting cans, the next I was shooting rats. Then rabbits, then deer. We would skip school for days at a time, realizing that school didn't really teach us anything. It's just the pumping of impractical facts, making us more obedient than intelligent. With my circle, we spoke to each other. Debated about the world. I learned more with them than anywhere else.
With those 'debates', a few bomb shells were dropped into me. Daniel once asked, "do you ever feel like... Its your own fault? That we live in this shitty world. That by not doing something about it, by letting it go by and being okay with it, we're leaving it worse off. Giving up? Losing justice? I dunno... But sometimes Kyle... I feel like I'm the reason my dad is in prison."
I was in the car with my mom when she was arrested. Maybe if I'd told her to drive more slowly, or more carefully, she wouldn't have died in jail...
We got ourselves uniforms. We gave ourselves nicknames. We were a "gang" in the sense that we all agreed the government was shit. We all kept guns on us, and we all made a pact to agree that we'd never get pushed around by the regulators.
One day I saw a regulator yelling at a kid just because he was a darkskin. It pissed me off so much. I walked up to the officer angry, telling him to leave these God damned kid alone. I told him you can't expect respect from us if you can't respect anyone else. He reached for his holster, and all my memories of my mom and friends just clicked. I wasn't going to end up as another dead kid on the news. I drew my gun just as I'd been practicing, I shot him six times to make sure he'd die quickly. Damn body camera saw my face.
I ran to my friends and they were proud of me. They said the guy deserved it and I believed them. The pact we made a year ago had since become something more. We ran away from home, agreeing to make sure no one else gets hurt by the regulators just as the rest our families had been.
One day while we were doing our neighborhood watch duties, I saw a regulator putting handcuffs on a kid. I don't care what excuse the regulator had, 90% of time its to display their power. I shot the regulator and give the kid the keys to his freedom. My circle had grown. We attract people without parents, people who need homes or families. I prefer recruiting suicidal people to give them a reason to live.
We've made games out of it. Saying things like "how many R's have you killed today?" Capturing a living regulator is extra fun. According to the news, the government is afraid of us. Good. We'll take them all down someday.
Because the moment someone puts on that regulator uniform, it's the moment they stop being human. Anyone who disagrees is obviously a drone, who's life and thinking is meaningless. We'll take down as may people as it takes in the name of Justice, Freedom, and Equality.
XXX
**Regulator Report**
Charge: Purge case 37
Officer Name: Brown.
Officer Badge Number: 159755
Summary: Contents and documentation of human trafficking and money laundering were found in son's bedroom. Hidden away under the floor boards. Confirmation of receipts needed.
**Regulator Report**
Charge: Cultural Cleansing
Officer Name: J. Martin.
Officer Badge Number: 199554
Summary : Proof of anti-government curriculum skewing found on Principal's computer. Illegally distributing guns to students confirmed after searching the infirmary. Connection of international networking has yet to be confirmed.
**Regulator Report**
Charge: Heritage Independence Supremacy
Officer Name: O'hare.
Officer Badge Number: 129159
Summary: Two suspects have been given an arrest warrant for conspiring of Arson. They are also suspected of being responsible for the vandalism of churches, mosques and temples on Maine Avenue. Further questioning required.
**Regulator Report**
Charge: Attempted kidnapping
Officer Name: Li.
Officer Badge Number: 184269
Summary: Husband called after hearing his wife call him in a drunken rage. She accused him of cheating and claimed that she threatened to kill herself and her son. She was pulled over speeding in the highway. There was no proof of her being intoxicated but let the record show that she was indeed induced with a variety of other narcotics. Upon pulling her over, she began attacking the officer with what appeared to be a knife. Due to her narcotic state, we switched on non-lethal methods in order to restrain her. | I wake up shortly before dawn. Today is the day. The day on which I'll decide my fate. The sky provides just enough light for me to see myself in my sliver of mirror. Hazel eyes, mouse-brown hair and a shard of glass: those are the only things I have of my mother's. I wonder what she would say to me, if she were here today. Would she tell me how proud she was? Would she tell me to be careful? Would she tell me that she loved me? Or would she simply hold me in her arms, warmth and closeness telling me all I needed to know?
Tylor enters then, his thin white face made stark by the first rays of sunlight creeping over the horizon. "Kyr, you awake?" His voice seems to small and thin in that cold morning air that it makes me want to cry. *Can I really do this? Can I leave him here alone?*
"What's up, Ty?" I ask, because I'm his big sister. It's my job to be brave.
"Kyr, it's today," he says, and I can hear the waver in his voice. He is so young and so afraid.
"It's today," I agree.
"A-are you scared?" he asks and I try to smile, though I can feel the tears creeping around the lump in my throat.
"Of course I am, dummy. The Choosing is scary. But I'm excited too. And sad." He hugs me then, and we spend a long moment sitting there on the edge of my bed, trying to stop time.
____
At breakfast, my father looks as stern as always. His navy uniform is threadbare around the elbows, but the brass buttons gleam. "So today's the day," he says with barely more than a nod in my direction. "I trust you've made the right choice." I wish I shared his trust. I wish I had the ability to things as simply as he does. We're even quieter than usual. *Maybe he knows,* I think. *Or maybe he just knows he's not allowed to say anything that could influence my decision.*
Tylor is pretending to lift spoonfuls of porridge to his mouth but after half an hour's efforts his bowl is still 3/4 full. I don't blame him. This oats are old and stale, the breakfast bland and tasteless. Few people can afford sugar and spices nowadays. We certainly can't. Not on a peacekeeper's salary. That's one good thing that will come out of this, I think: one less mouth to feed. Maybe Ty won't have to be so scarecrow thin. They say things are different in the Capital. The people there wear clothing bright as spring flowers and eat meat with every meal. *If I have my way*, she thinks, but thoughts like these are best left unthought.
____
The Choosing is always somewhat magical. For one day a year, the Capital grants us enough petrol to run the electric generators. The assembly hall is awash with blue-hued light that leaves folks sallow-faced but reaches every corner or the hall. My festival dress looks garish in this new light, the warm brown darkened to the colour of dried blood. I leave Ty and my father and take my place at the front of the hall with my classmates.
They are 15 and varying degrees of terrified. The sight of Miffy Sommers with tears in her eyes fills me with wonder. She is the mayor's daughter, pretty and plump with corkscrews of blonde hair. Why should she worry? Is she actually going to demand a Choosing? Maybe she knows something I don't. Maybe there's a high demand for Capitolites this year or maybe it's true what they say about Fortune's Wheel being fixed.
The presenter is a lanky figure with false lashes, high heels, and a prominent Adam's apple. I've heard that it can be hard to tell Capitoline men from women, but people say the same things of female peacekeepers with their muscled bodies and shaved heads. I hadn't realized they might actively try to make themselves ambiguous. The figures voice does nothing to reveal xir identity.
"Welcome, welcome to our newest citizens and their families. We thank you for Choosing to be with us today." Xe beams. "As I look out across this sea of faces..." And so it goes. I tune out most of it. Today is the day. Decide your future. Stay with the lives you know or try your Fortune? Bravery. Loyalty. Service. Words I've heard a thousand times a day at the training school and at home. No mention of the Discards and their fate. No mention of the Misfits who arrive on their doorstep each year unable to so much as disassemble a rifle. Only the glory of service and the privileged of decision.
Then begins the calling of names, alphabetically from Abbot to Steevers. The first three make predictable choices: Service. Service. Service. Peter, Jeb, and Rick are strapping boys and friends besides. They've always done well at the training school and are ontrack for officer positions. Why risk that for a spin on Fortune's Wheel. The next is Stacy Campbell, a 75kg butch with top scores in marksmanship. She Chooses.
Properly speaking, the wheel is not a wheel but a machine. You swipe your citizen's card and it selects a path for you. Some say it's randomized, others say it's rigged. Most believe there's a bit of both involved. We hold our breath as the machine whirs and sigh when a new card comes out of the slot. Stacy holds it aloft and crows, "Bodyguard! I'm headed to the Capital!"
Bodyguard. Does this help my chances or hurt them? If positions are finite, then Stacy just made our pool that much smaller. If it's based on probabilities, I've still got a chance.
Six more people choose the peacekeepers, then the room quiets again. The next girl is Stacy's girlfriend, Laine. "Choose," she says, and hands over her citizen's card. The machine whirrs again and Laine looks ready to pass out when the sound of plastic against metal makes her start forward. This time, there is none of the excitement that foretold Stacey's fate. "Labourer," she reads, "Agricultural District". There are worse fates, but Laine has just gambled away her friends and family for a life of hard work and no glory.
My turn comes faster than I'd ever thought possible. The electric lights make it possible to see every face in the hall, but that only makes it harder to pick out dad and Ty against the crowd. Will what I'm about to do crush them? "Kyra Nichols," the announcer is saying, and I'm saying "Choose. I'd like to Choose." And I'm handing him my card. My citizen's card. The one that gives me the right to work and learn and eat and live in the Military District. I see the empty sincerity in the Capitalite's eyes have to force myself to let go of the thin rectangle of worn plastic.
The machine whirrs.
The whirring stops.
I've heard tell of kids going crazy when this happens, lashing out at the presenter, trying to tear apart the Wheel, wetting themselves, even attempting suicide on the stage. I hold it together. Two of the Capitoline guards move to seize me and pull me off the stage, but I shake my head and give them a palms up gesture. In the training school, this gesture means "I yield. I'll go quietly." In the end, one walks ahead of me and one behind. I spare one last glance for my erstwhile countrymen, and then step follow them dutifully out of the hall. | 2016-01-01T02:45:12 | 2016-01-01T00:21:30 | 78 | 47 |
[WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work?
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | I ordered a shot of whiskey,
A slippery nipple and then
I downed six bottles of bud light
And two whiskey sours and gin.
My head is swimming round and round.
My heart is all aflame.
I wonder if my ex is awake I think I'll call him again.
Oh Fuck yeah this is my tune.
Get up!
Let's dance and shout!
This is my jam, my favorite song.
I've got this groove all figured out.
Sweet child o mine, meatloaf, Eminem, and Rhianna.
I'll jump on this table, grab my hand if you wanna.
Oh no the tender is angry,
He is booting me out the door!
It's 2am he explains, its cut off time, no more!
So I walk down the road , lose my keys, and vomit on my shirt. I trip and fall asleep, face first in the dirt.
Here I lie comforted by the cool night air, farting like a sow, but why oh why must I be there?
Because I'm problydrunkrightnow.
| When I first entered the building that was now to give me money for doing what I had always been doing I got a slight annoyance from the squeaky doors. I proceeded to walk over the large hall to the woman obviously responsible for squeaky doors; the receptionist. I told her that if that door squeaked when I went through it the next time I would fire her. Not that I was in any position to fire her, but she didn't know that.
I walked over to the elevator and pressed the "up" button. It took over 20 seconds for the elevator to arrive. How annoying. I pressed the top button and waited. Remarkable slow elevator, I thought to my self as I was hitting the floor button over and over again.
Finally the elevator came to a grinding halt on floor 35, top floor. The management floor. I took a deep breath as the doors opened and started power walking right to the CEO office. I barked something at the poor secretary sitting outside the door and rammed myself into his office. The man behind looked startled at me and asked; who are you? you can't be here! get out!.
I continued my still uninterrupted powerwalk right to his desk and jumped on top of it. The CEO pushed himself away from the desk and sunk down into his chair as I started yelling.
For a good five minutes I gave him the most "you are the most useless person that has ever lived" speech that has ever been given. After the yelling I jumped off his desk and sat down on his lap, and 10 cm from his face I told him that I was hired by the owners of the company and that this would now become a recurring event: Me coming into his office yelling at him until his numbers started to improve.
This was my first job as an angry man. I have since started my own company and I hire myself out to people that needs someone to yell at someone. I make millions doing this. | 2016-02-22T11:35:38 | 2016-02-22T11:21:32 | 74 | 40 |
[WP] White noise refers when an individual grows accustomed to a constant sound, subconsciously blocking it out. Suddenly, everyone on Earth realizes they were all hearing something, but only because it stopped. | No one heard the sound
until it softly faded.
Humanity, spellbound,
it held its breath and waited.
-----
No one recalled the mumble,
though the silence felt so loud.
None had ever felt the rumble
that coursed gently through the ground.
-----
The Earth that day seemed eerie.
Like a corpse, she grew too still.
After decades growing weary,
she had slowly lost her will.
-----
They all foresaw her death,
knew their time to change had passed.
But no one heard her breath
until she had drawn her last. | There were 15 minutes after the silence fell. A small gap of time, a moment of fear. A collective gasp around the world, as if time had stopped.
Within minutes, there were frantic news reports of stars disappearing. Not falling, not changing, not exploding - they disappeared. Entirely. Lights went out, one by one, throughout the galaxy. I changed the channel, trying to find anything else. There was a preacher on, yelling "This is the end!" I'm not gonna let my daughter hear that. I turn off the TV.
We sat in the silence for what seemed like hours. Lights flickering in the night sky, waiting for whatever it was to happen. My wife, my daughter, and myself. Huddled in a darker galaxy, holding each other. For the first time, it feels hollow. The love I feel is present, yet empty. I can't remember my wife's face when I don't look at her, or my daughter's name.
There's a second silence. Things are getting fuzzy. I watch my wife empty, my daughter is not either, yet I still feel
Words louder than reality: "SIMULATION TERMINATED" | 2016-04-18T20:39:35 | 2016-04-18T18:04:19 | 164 | 38 |
[WP] In the future Earth is fighting a desperate war against aliens. With no other option, we start to use heavy genetic engineering, effectively making most humans like nightmare monsters. After victory, the unaltered refugees on a secluded planet do not recognize us for humans anymore. | "Photon Eagle Four to Base, coming in hot. Advise," CPT Detriech was screaming into his radio. It would be hilarious to survive the 1,000 Year War, the rebuild of the space program, and the fifteen year journey to OP Base Delta in the far outskirts of the Castro System just to die upon entry into the atmosphere of our New World. I chuckled to myself because some of us deal with stress in completely unhelpful ways.
It was becoming pretty clear that Base was not going to respond or advise and we were going to have to do some slick maneuvers to survive. We'd lost a lot of parts on this voyage. I'm not the ship maintenance tech, so I don't know what parts exactly, but the guy that *is* the ship maintenance tech looks like he is about to throw up, so I am assuming the missing parts are awfully important parts.
I'm not the navigator either. She was killed a few cycles ago by a jealous lover. We're a violent lot. She was kind of a bitch, and I like sitting in her seat, so I don't mourn her loss. Cushy seat, though. Nice.
I guess you could call me a consultant. I'm an expert on all things Human. I'm suppose to ease the transition of our troops, after one thousand years of separation and constant war, back into the humdrum nonsense of human life.
I kind of hate Humans.
But we don't get to choose our jobs. I would have been a Breeder if I had been given a choice. I would have been genetically altered physically. I'd be a lot prettier and I wouldn't have THE WEIGHT OF MY PEOPLE'S FUTURE HAPPINESS ON MY SHOULDERS. I wouldn't have these fucking freckles, either. Asshole scientists couldn't do anything about that?
Lots of alarms are going off. Apparently there's a fire in engines two and three.
I don't know if surviving the crash is going to be all that awesome.
Here's comes the ground. At least we made it home.
_________________________
*Roswell, New Mexico 1947*
"President Truman, sir, they are definitely not human."
| *Earth*. The word was a bright blue marble cool under the tongue, the taste of rainwater, a breath of fresh unrecycled air. It was the word poised on every colonist's lips, as the A.R.K.s lifted off from the Mars and moon bases, leaving the self-maintaining structures humming along empty and undisturbed. The war was over. They were going home.
Contact had been almost non-existent, no one willing to risk the invaders intercepting their messages. For twenty years, just the lonely mathematical signal, like eyes blinking, like fingers tapping the wrist: we are still alive. We are still here. And then, in the wake of the invaders' defeat, a flood breaking through. Names being cried out, lines cast out across space. Fathers who had never seen their children, families and friends and lovers calling out for each other in one confused rush. And underneath it all, the revelation. The Truth.
Earth had changed in those twenty years of war, and humanity with it. The atmosphere had been stripped of its ozone layer, the earth bombarded with radiation both celestial and terrestrial. The air was poisoned, those lovely bright blue waters undrinkable. And humankind had adapted itself to the blighted world. The colonists who had escaped the war were the last remnants of what humanity has once been.
No one had fully elaborated on it, sketched out the new blueprint for their race. But it seeped through in the chittering undertones in the voices, the membranes vibrating at each deep breath, the odd reference to colors no colonist had seen. Lovers spoke without lust, as if hesitant to discuss this new configuration of bodies. The sentiment 'I want to hold you in my arms again' was delicately broached, as if such a thing might no longer be possible.
But still, the decision was unanimous. Blighted though the Earth was, it was still a more sustainable environment than the barren moon and Mars. Talks of terraforming were tossed around jovially, of reservations. Of domes that would block out the ultraviolet, purify the air, restart a self-contained water cycle. Perhaps, the messages hinted, genetic alterations for the colonists that would allow them to live side by side with the inhabitants of Earth.
The mood in the A.R.K. was tense, expectant, every passenger clad in their radiation suits and eager for disembarkment. The passenger bay had no windows, no view of the red ground growing closer, no view of of the hundreds of Earthlings gathered around the landing pad, banners spread, bands playing, arms raised in celebration. There was just the shudder of the ship as the A.R.K. touched down, and the first cracks of sunlight as the doors opened.
Cautiously, their visors tinted against the glare of the sun, the last neanderthals in existence took their first careful steps forward and prepared to greet humanity. | 2016-06-04T05:34:35 | 2016-06-04T04:17:51 | 59 | 13 |
[WP] You're just surfing Reddit, constantly clicking on the Random button. Until ... you find a subreddit, dedicated to not only following and discussing your activities online, but also your real life.
Feel free to have the subreddit be about someone else if you wish, like me. | *click*
r/holdmybeer
*click*
r/blunderyears
*sip of pepsi*
*click*
r/currently_on_toilet
*click*
r/childrenfalli-
My cursor does a bit of a double take before shooting up to the back button. Sure enough, it brings me to a subreddit titled r/currently_on_toilet . I chuckle, finding it amusing to have found a community of like minded redditors who also browse from the old porcelain throne. It truly is the best place to use Reddit.
The description of the sub reads "To follow and discuss the activities of [my full name].
I hear a wet *plop* underneath me, despite having finished my business ten minutes ago. And, for the first time in my life, I have a bigger issue on my mind than the water now on my ass hole.
The current top post is a thread to discuss soda choice. I click on it and see and see a circlejerk in the comments praising my choice and scorning Coke. Hey, these people might be creeps, but at least they have good taste.
Going to Top> All Time, I see a video of what appears to be a 17 year old me jerking off.
Holy shit.
Scrolling down, several more disturbing posts appear on my screen. Pictures of my current house, discussions of my sleep schedule, graphic close ups of my old dog after it got hit by a car.
That's when I see it. An announcement post, one minute old.
**He's Found It**
Someone knocks on the bathroom door.
*plop*
| Like any other weekday evening, after several dull hours in high school, I returned home to simply flop into bed and browse Reddit on my laptop. There was nothing new on the front page; I had already explored the day's trending topics. I read all the news articles, longed at the cute cat pictures, and even rolled my eyes at the half-assed reposts of showerthoughts. After a few pages of nothing, my eyes glanced at the random button. Perhaps that would bring me refreshing content, something I'd enjoy? I clicked it once. A fan page for some actress, not exactly my kind of entertainment. I clicked again. Ew, people are into this?
It took me almost a dozen tries until I had found something worth my time, and calling it interesting would be an understatement. It... It was a subreddit about me! The newest post, "/u/Paradoxmoron finds this subreddit" had almost half a thousand upvotes already, but was posted less than a minute ago. All my previous endeavors had been kept track of here. All the subreddits I had just passed by, my reactions to them, and when I went back farther, even my school activities were noted! There were a ridiculous amount of readers online, more than I'd like to think about, and the subscribers had been a dozen times that! It was all so... Well. I had no idea what to think about it. How could I? This was insane, it was unreal!
I decided, in a moment of courage, to delve into the comments of the most recent one, the post about my discovery of the subreddit. The highest rated comment said something along the lines of, "Hello, PM!" with a link to a gif of some actor waving, and an almost unnoticeable dickbutt in the background. Other comments discussed somewhat unrelated topics, like my personal life and dietary routine, mini flame wars and absurd arguments erupting immediately afterwards. Their opinions all varied, unusual for the mostly hive-minded Reddit community I was used to. And, it seems either the moderators of the subreddit were lazy, or were actually decent; There wasn't a single deleted comment amidst the hundreds of vulgar opinions shared.
After losing myself in the comment section for almost half an hour, I simply shut my laptop and went to bed. That's enough internet for tonight... | 2016-07-09T19:04:58 | 2016-07-09T17:31:33 | 248 | 19 |
[WP] You get to the afterlife, and it turns out everyone plays through the same life as you did, and gets scored on their performance. After talking with thousands of people, you come across the person who has the high score. | "Incredible," I heard the voice say. "Simply incredible. We've never seen numbers like this."
"What's happened?"
"What's happened? Oh, if you only knew... we're still trying to wrap our heads around it ourselves. Numbers like this, well... we always thought they were theoretical."
"What's going on?"
"Yes, I should explain. Well, the most important bit first: you've died. It didn't hurt, did it? I should hope not, we've been working on the exit mechanism for a while. Bad consumer feedback, you see. The second thing you should know is that your past, what you think of as your life... isn't really a life. It was more of a game. The most complex, varied, incredible challenge ever designed. And you, YOU, of all the players we've had... scored the highest that we've ever seen."
"It was a game? And I won?"
"More of a test. And your results are extraordinary. An incredible accomplishment."
"But me? I didn't do anything, I was... a failure. I didn't DO anything, I didn't create great art, I didn't start a family, I didn't even have a pet..."
"Exactly! Don't you see? The game was stimulation overload. We put you in a world with six billion people, with seven completely unique continents, each filed to the brim with strange environments, wonderful people to be loved, problems to be solved, mysteries to be explored, religions to be studied, books to be read... and you ignored them all.
The ones who came before you, they couldn't resist. They had to take part. One of the previous players was a soldier, enlisted after 9/11, served three tours, sacrificed himself for his unit. Another became a doctor, used his interest in technology to create apps that kept people in shape, helping stomp out diabetes and obesity. Another fell in love with Katie, married her, raised four children and taught them all how to create beautiful art. Another you, tired of being lonely, joined every club at school, eventually joining the staff, becoming a teacher and guidance counselor, helping launch the careers or hundreds of small business owners, entrepreneurs, doctors...
The opportunities of the world we created, we made them impossible to ignore. And you did. You held a baby in your arms and felt nothing. We weren't prepared for that reaction, we couldn't conceive of it!"
"But wait... if the whole point was to not react, what about monks? What about shut-ins, what about all the ones who go without?"
"They went without, but they still saw the opportunities, they still appreciated them. The monks did hard work for others, the shut-ins busied themselves with personal works, scrapbooking or archiving... it was fruitless, but they didn't know that. They were still working towards the end goal. You weren't!"
"I can't believe it."
"We're going to have to redesign the entire operation now. We thought it would be impossible to do what you did, but it was. The next iteration, it will be... spectacular. Opportunities you couldn't conceive of, cultures and mysteries you couldn't imagine... it will be incredible."
"Can I see it?"
"Of course not. Why would we let you back in? It would ruin the experiment."
"What am I supposed to do now?"
"The same thing you did before. Nothing."
"Forever?"
"It's what you always wanted, isn't it?" | I've always had this fear of dying. In the afterlife, there'd be a bright light at the end of the tunnel and when you reach it, you'll find St. Peter with the Book of Life. From there, he will judge your worldly deeds and determine whether you are worthy of eternal life or eternal damnation. That's what I was taught and that's what I chose to believe.
When I came to, I was in a room filled with people; dead people, to be precise. No bright lights at the end of the tunnel. No angels flying amongst the clouds playing heavenly songs. Just a big room and lots of people.
Different races, different ages and yet we could all talk to and understand each other perfectly.
We spent what felt like an eternity in that room. We talked about our lives, our regrets, and even the circumstances of our deaths. Of the thousands of people I've talked to, most of them appeared to have been good people, which was a huge relief for me. I was in good company and there was no way in hell that we would have been damned for all eternity.
Suddenly, a man dressed in all black appeared.
"Attention everybody! If you could please check your pockets, you will find a piece of paper. Written on this paper is a number that will tell you which door to proceed to: the green door or the blue door. Thank you"
With that announcement, the man vanished and a hush fell on the room as everyone quietly inspects their number. I check my own stub and see "48,553" written in green ink. I look over to the woman beside me and she has "9,000" written in blue ink; old guy to my left had "5,000" in blue ink; some kid had "100" written in blue.
What was this number? Obviously, the ink color was the only thing that suggested which door we would proceed to. And yet the meaning behind the numbers was still unknown. Was it an evaluation of our worldy deeds - a life score perhaps? That was the only thing I could think about as I mindlessly go through the green door.
As soon as the door closed behind me, I realized that something was amiss. There were thousands of people in the other room, and yet only four of us here. Surely, there must have been more people with numbers written in green ink!
Time passed and not one other person entered the room. It was just myself and three other weirdos.
We shared our numbers with one another - all four widely different and yet all written in green ink.
I surveyed my companions to see if I could discern what type of person they were.
Whatever fate awaits them will surely befall on me too. My mind was clouded with this thought and all I could come up with was Lanky, Blacky, and Baldy.
*I'm terrible.*
As I try to process the situation further, the door opens and the man in black enters.
"It's time..."
As we shuffle out of the green room, the big hall we were just in is no more. Instead, the door now leads to a dark passageway. My heart drops and sweat starts to drip down my neck. The man in black leads the way through twists and turns while our small group nervously follows along. Just when I was entertaining thoughts of running away, there it was -
*The light at the end of the tunnel.*
It takes a while for my eyes to adjust to the brightness but I gawk at the sight before me. Everyone who went through the blue door was there, comfortably seated in majestic chairs, towering over our small group. They were laughing and jeering as the man in black motions us to take a seat in front of this mob. My companions and I oblige - we know that judgement is coming and we are prepared.
A bespectacled figure slowly approaches us and the crowd grows silent. He gives us a warm smile before making his way to the podium. I close my eyes as he begins to speak.
["Hello. Welcome to the afterlife, where everything's made up and the points don't matter."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RkMgAzpcI8k) | 2016-09-14T15:46:47 | 2016-09-14T15:04:19 | 161 | 61 |
[WP] Today, I came to work, as usual. A little around 3 PM, I have noticed I don't remember my colleagues. Except for Kelly, who just sent me an email "Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!" | *Four twenty-six.*
The numbers echo in my mind as I move through the sterile white corridors as quickly as possible. They make me nauseous. I hate them.
*Look straight ahead when you walk. Do not speak to anyone. Do not use the lift.*
I had printed out Kelly’s email and hid it in my pocket. She’s the only one who believes me. She’s the only one who can save me now.
I reach the stairwell and slam the safety doors behind me. Using a fire extinguisher, I jam the handle of the door. Exhausted, I plop onto the floor against the door, sitting on my long white coat.
*They will be looking for a doctor. Change into a patient’s outfit immediately.*
I unfold the blue hospital gown I took from the supply closet and put it on. I hated it. I hated it all, hospitals, patients, diseases, death. It’s a wonder how I’ve worked here for 26 years – my entire adult life.
*Four twenty-six.*
A sharp pain shoots through my skull. Sick and groggy, I vomit all over the floor and crumple onto the ground. I lay there, drained, watching several Xanax pills float on the sick.
Footsteps echo from the stairwell. “Dr. Crawley?”
I turn. A wrinkly, bespectacled old man rushes down the stairs. I have never seen him in my life before.
“How… how do you know my name?” I demand, dragging myself up.
“Daniel, we’ve worked together for decades!” He takes a step and reaches for my shoulder.
“No…” I sweep his hand away.
“Daniel…”
“You liar!” I slam his head against the door. He falls to the ground. A scarlet puddle blossoms around his head.
I run down the stairs. Kelly said they would lie, they would pretend. *Do not trust them*, she said.
Kelly is the only person I can trust. She’s the only person who believes me. I discovered what the hospital really did. I know about the secret labs and illegal experiments. I told Kelly and she believes me. She says they will do anything to keep me quiet. She promised to help me.
I run down to the fourth floor. Shit! I’d left Kelly’s email upstairs. But it’s too late now. I step cautiously into the corridor. Quietly, I walk until I find the room I’ve been looking for.
4-26.
*Meet me at 4-26. You will be safe here. I will tell you everything.*
I made it. I step into the room to find Kelly standing there, smiling. My only friend Kelly, who will explain everything and make the strangers go away.
Something sharp and cold pierces through my right arm. I turn to find two large guards beside the door. One of them is holding a syringe. I scream, but only manage a muffled cry.
I fall into Kelly's arms. As the world fades away slowly, I hear her voice:
“… second time this month…”
“… thinks he still works here…”
“… but he always comes back…”
I feel someone put a piece of paper in my pocket. Then darkness. | They seemed to wear blank faces.
Sean looked at his colleagues, smiling broadly at him. They greeted him, asked how his weekend was, and he stuttered some answer back. But he didn't recognise any of them.
Feeling the panic clawing at him, he ran to his office and desperately started Googling for local psychiatrists. He was still googling when an email notification popped up from Kelly. His heart hammered painfully fast as he read the message.
**Act normal, meet me downstairs. Now!**
Sean breathed out slowly, feeling a little bit calmer. Kelly would tell him what was going on. But when he got downstairs, trying not to look at the strangers surrounding him, she wasn't there. He glanced around at the gleaming lobby and felt like he was suffocating from the fear that ate at him. Had something happened to her?
But wait. How would he know she wasn't here somewhere? What if he couldn't remember her face?
"Kelly!" he called. "Kelly?"
Someone approached him, looking concerned. She had long dark hair and wore glasses. He couldn't place her at all.
"What's wrong Sean?" she asked.
"I'm looking for Kelly," he muttered, his stomach crawling at the fact that this person knew his name when he couldn't remember a thing about her.
"Kelly...doesn't work here anymore," she said, looking puzzled and shocked. "God, I thought you knew? You worked in the same division, didn't you?"
He stared at her, sour dread welling up in his throat. He was losing his mind.
"Excuse me," he managed to say, wanting to get away from her dreadful blank eyes.
----------------------
**The next day**
Sean lay huddled in his bed, the psychiatrist's words still echoing through his head. He probably had a lesion on his brain. Prosopagnosia, in all likelihood: face blindness. It would probably get worse. After all, he'd forgotten all about what happened to Kelly, and hallucinated her email.
Losing his mind. His mind, so sharp and integral to his sense of self. He was never the strongest, or the most popular. Never had much going for him, except his mind. He'd always had an excellent, razor-sharp memory. Absorbing facts as fast as people could throw them at him. But apparently, his perfect brain - the very thing that allowed him to breeze through school and college, that comforted him when he had nothing else to fall back on - was damaged. A lesion. Even the word made him itch with revulsion.
It couldn't be true. Couldn't be. There would be another explanation.
He blinked as he heard an email ping on his laptop, balanced on his knees. Kelly, again.
**Don't listen to them, Sean. I'm here for you. They've infiltrated the workplace. Sneaked into our town. The demons. The face stealers. The mind rapers. Don't listen. They said I died, but I did not. I wanted to tell you yesterday, but they managed to stop us meeting after they saw my email. But we'll see eachother again. Meet me tomorrow at the park, 9am. I'll be there. I'm here for you.**
He gave a shuddering sigh of relief and smiled. He'd see Kelly tomorrow. She wasn't dead, the woman he'd been in love with for ten years without saying anything. He wasn't losing his mind. She would be there tomorrow, and would explain.
He finally dropped off to sleep, his racing heart slowing down as he thought of their meeting tomorrow. Kelly would explain everything.
And they'd finally, finally be together. And face the demons, side by side.
------
Hope you liked my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | 2016-09-16T09:18:38 | 2016-09-16T07:29:44 | 691 | 267 |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | The voice seemed to be broadcast out of nowhere. I put down my spliff, thinking I'd had a bit too much already but looking around, I could see others scanning the area for the broadcast speaker.
It seemed like such a ridiculous thing at the time. I laughed it off, thinking it was just a well performed prank.
But what if it wasn't? It was almost too good to be true.
I hadn't been able to move up in ranks at all, despite being a fairly intelligent player. I started a career path, chose a branch on the skill tree and levelled up in that.
In the end, I was forced to go on a daily grind to amass currency, although, after paying off microtransactions and money owed to grumpy NPCs for no good reason other than my occupying a small space on the map, there was hardly enough currency left to get rid of the hunger debuff. The tutorial NPCs, my parents, had told me I would get more currency if I got a lot of skill points, so I put my currency situation down to a glitch.
The game was too repetitive for my liking. Every time I switched on, I would spawn in bed, change to my work uniform, groom and go on a grind. I would go home, smoke grass, play a mini game and then go to bed. I'd fit one or two opportunities to eat into every session. Three if I was lucky. The game was clearly pay to play and I was one of the people who couldn't afford to pay. I kept trying to find a way to end the game permanently but I never found it.
Still. I'd managed to venture out further than a lot of people who spawned in the same spot and financial class as me. I'd made alliances with many people who spawned elsewhere, some even on the other side of the map. The person I teamed up with was from a different spawn point than me and had different skill sets, but we shared some similar lore and playing methods. It was a good team. We'd even considered paying for the family starter DLC.
My teammate.
I passed the spliff to him, not knowing how long I'd been stuck in my thoughts.
It was almost too good to be true.
Suddenly there was an onset of anxiety. Would we be transferred to the same galaxy? And even then, would we be in the same solar system? What would the odds of that even be?
Almost as if I'd spoken these words aloud, he moved to sit closer to me. We refilled our cups of champagne and tapped them together.
"To the open beta," I mumbled.
"To life," came the reply.
We watched the vast expanse of the ocean, seeing it disintegrate from somewhere out on the atlantic, the void creeping ever closer. I shuddered. He put his arm around me.
We wept bitterly and clung to each other. The ocean waves rose to crash but never made it to shore. I could feel the fibres in my legs being torn apart, then my torso, my arms and finally the lips I'd been pressing to my teammate's wet, salty cheek.
The moment I was reassembled, I could feel that my teammate was nowhere near me. I slumped to the floor and wept and wept. The pain of losing my teammate was worse than being dissolved into particles and put back together.
"Transfer me!" I cried at the empty, brightly lit room. My voice was broken and hoarse. "Transfer me!"
And I continued to sob. When people in laboratory coats entered to guide me out, I pulled myself desperately out of their grasp.
"Please," I whimpered. "Please, send me to him, I need to find him."
They took me from that room and led me here. I no longer need to pay to survive. There is no hunger debuff, no daily grind. My life is bleak and shallow. It's too repetitive for my liking. | It was a hell of a year, you had to admit. With the way things were going on in Iraq and Syria, the flood of refugees, the US election.... I still can't believe the other party pulled off a win like that. It was so close, too. Still, I tried not to dwell on it. After all, I still had my health - which I've been ever so thankful for, since I beat the cancer. I had a loving wife and son back home, who supported me through the tough times when I couldn't support them. I had a decent job, even though I never imagined myself working in a carpet store. Still, it put food on the table, so I couldn't complain.
"Hey Roy, did you pull those Persian off-white shags for the clearance sale?" I heard the manager yell front the front room. Whelp, time to quit day dreaming and get back to work. Without bothering to reply, I got up from my desk and climbed the wobbly step-stool to reach for the rugs in question. Better get them down before he gets back here to see for himself.
As I reached for the rugs, the stepladder leaned back, and I lost my balance. "Oh, shit, SHIT!" I fell back and cracked my head open on the floor.
"Thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly."
----
"Woah, what the hell! Wha-wha-where am I‽ What in the hell‽" I was suddenly a kid again, standing in some huge arcade room, with a helmet on my head and let it drop to the floor. I snatched it off as I looked around in a panic. The helmet was connected with a wire to a huge screen and chair. Clearly one of the many games in this place. I was running my hands over myself, my chest, my stomach, making sure I was really here. But where the hell was here?
"55 years! Not bad, Morty! Ye-ye kinda wasted your thirties, though, with that whole bird-watching phase." said the old man in a white lab coat next to me. His pointy gray hair stuck out in all directions, unkempt. He was holding a beer, and by the drool on his chin and the slur in his words, it was obvious this wasn't his first drink today.
"Wh-Where's my wife‽" I asked, still confused. What the hell happened?
"Morty, you were just playing a game. It's called Earth. Snap out of it, c'mon." The man walked forward toward the game and grabbed a small strip of tickets that it had spit out. He passed the tickets back to me, while I was still rubbing my head as the memories flooded back.
"I'm Morty... You're Rick..." It was all coming back to me now. "HEY! You sold a gun to a guy that kills people!" I screamed at Rick. I had suddenly recalled the events of earlier today, before we came to this super arcade room, before I got lost in that stupid video game. Rick paid little attention to me, however, as he picked up the helmet and walked to the screen.
"Look at this - you beat cancer and then went back to work at the carpet store? Boo!"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Don't dodge the issue, Rick! Selling a gun to a hit-man is the same as pulling the trigger!" Even as I spoke, Rick continued to ignore me and moved forward, taking a seat and preparing to start a new game himself, helmet still in his hands.
"It’s also the same as doing nothing. If Krombopulos Michael wants someone dead, there’s not a lot anybody can do to stop him. That’s why he does it for a living? Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to thrash your Earth score." With that, Rick donned the helmet in his hands.
I wasn't letting this go, however. I was still so angry with his past actions. "You could stop this killing from happening, Rick! You know, y-you did a bad thing selling that gun, but you could undo it if you wanted!"
Rick just continued to brush aside my words as he started to play. "Uh-huh, yeah, that’s the difference between you and me, Morty. I never go back to the carpet store."
----
For those unfamiliar, this is [Rick and Morty.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szzVlQ653as) | 2016-11-05T02:59:24 | 2016-11-05T02:22:42 | 32 | 23 |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | Stephen walked through the hallway with slow heavy steps and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, "I'm on my way, Sarah."
He didn't so much say the words rather than dribble them past his mumbling lips.
The sound of his flip-flopping furry slippers announced his arrival and he pushed open the disney-decorated door.
He carefully peeked inside, scanning the room.
Sarah sat in the corner of her bed, tightly gripping a pillow and pressing it to her face.
Stephen flashed a tired smile, "Sarah, honey. What's wrong?"
She spoke with her face still buried in her pillow, "Dabby, thers a maobster."
He walked over to the bed and messed up her hair, "There's no such thing as monsters." he said with a reassuring smile.
Her innocent eyes moved from the pillow to her father, "Can you make sure?" she pleaded.
Stephen crouched down on painful knees and peeked under the bed, getting ready to diligently inspect dust bunnies and old stuffed animals.
His eyes moved like a lighthouse light across a harbor, passing over the mobster hidden between stuffed animals.
He slowly rose to his feet, mumbled something about back-pain, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and had a second look.
Stephen locked eyes with a portly man wearing a striped suit and a scowl, "Wise guy, eh?" hissed the man.
Feeling quite awake, Stephen jumped to his feet and kicked the bed frame.
"*Bada-bing...*" growled the bed frame.
Stephen kicked the bed frame again, "Get out of there!"
The mobster scurried out of his hiding place like a fat squirrel on ice.
He swept his hand beneath the bed and retrieved his brimmed hat before standing a full 5 feet tall.
Sarah bolted from her bed and hid behind her father, who weakly gestured towards the bed, "Why were you under my daughter's bed?"
The man donned his hat and shrugged, "Laying low."
"But *why*?" repeated Stephen.
The mobster chuckled, "I can't very well stand in there, can I?" he said with a wry smile, "I mean, c'mon. Look at it."
Stephen rolled his eyes, "Oh, so you're a comedian now."
The man smirked and retrieved a cigar from his coat pocket, pinched off the end using a cutter, and lit it.
He inhaled deeply and puffed forth a cloud of smoke, "No," he said through clenched teeth, "No funny business."
"An *acquaintance* of ours has been hesitant to make his payments," explained the mobster, "I'm here to remind him."
Stephen rubbed his forehead, "Hold on, you're using this room as a black market meet-up?"
"That's right," confirmed the mobster, he finished the remainder of his cigar and flicked it across the room, "Although the client doesn't exactly know we're meeting-up, if you catch my drift."
Stephen raised an eyebrow, "An ambush? You're ambushing this client from beneath my daughter's bed?"
The mobster raised his hands apologetically, "Under beds is just the sort of place their kind likes to be."
Stephen started when the doorknob of the closet began to rattle.
The mobster reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handgun, "But they get in through the closet."
The hinges of the closet door creaked in protest, the door was carefully opened by a small green hand.
Stephen hastily took his daughter's hand and fled towards the hallway.
The mobster cocked his gun and pointed it towards the closet, his voice was ice, "We've been eagerly awaiting your payments, Mr. Wazowski."
| I must have looked pretty shady, but everyone does in this neighborhood. So nobody even questioned or made a second glass as I walked through to the backyard of the suburban two flat.
I read the note again "he always leaves the back window unlocked, we took care of the dog"
Whew, good, I hate dogs.
I moved right in to the wooden porch over looking a huge backyard sprinkled with various toys that were never cleaned up
"Oh shit Little Jimmy has a kid?" I whispered to myself as I fumbled with the window. I never remembed Little Jimmy having one while he was with the Sardinos, but life can move fast I guess.
I slipped through the window and into a lavish kitchen. A little too lavish for what I knew about Little Jimmy, but maybe his wife whipped that outta him.
I made a quick check through the house, every room with the fanciest appliance or furnishing you could think off, and I dialed the Bosses number.
"Are you in" he said gruffly
"Yeah, Little Jimmy got straighted up"
"Dont matta now, you know what to do. Even if his family is there, hes gotta pay"
He hung up. But my mind kept wondering. Something seemed strange. I went up stairs a bit more sliently, since I didnt know if anyone was up there, and poked around more.
I walked quietly into the master bedroom, silk sheeted king sized bed engulfing the room which was 40 times bigger than my apartment. He really was living large.
I checked the room across the hall, a pink room filled with cartoon character plushies, and drawings of animals scribbled in crayon.
"I hope shes at a slumber party or something" I said to myself.
All the sudden *DOOF* I hear the front door open downstairs and the shuffle of footsteps.
"Ah fuck, they arent supposed to be home yet"
I frantically look around the room for a place to hide, and seeing nowhere good. I slid underneath the bed, hiding under the pink blankets that extended over the bed.
The house was of course, huge, yet I could hear the family talking as if they were in the room with me and the stuffed German Sheppard that was under the bed as well
"Im so sorry you're tired sweetie, did the movie make you sleepy?" A womans voice said softly
"Yeah" a little girls voice said
"Aw sweetie, im glad we left early, you get a good nights sleep, Ill tuck you in in a second" said a voice that was totally not Little Jimmy.
"Who the fuck..." I said as I double checked the address on my phone. 143 West 56th Street is definitely where I was at.
I punched in the address to my phone. The gps pin flew a bit down the block.
"What in the hell"
I didnt have much more time mumble to myself because little footsteps were tap tap taping against the wood stairs, getting ever so louder.
Every tap driving home that I have 5 counts of murder, 6 armed robberies, 3 assaults, and a very long time in jail if I get caught.
The door opened, and the thud of the plop on the bed echoed the weight on top of me. Im not sure how much time passed, but it felt like days. The rest of the house filled with a movie whoever was downstairs was watching.
Yeah... filled the house, like, theres no way this girls falling asleep. Do I shoot my way out? Do I just run? Whaaat do I...
"Wait" said that evil, childs voice "wheres Mr.Snuffles".
I looked at the stuffed dog next to me, beady dark eyes staring into the void. Please do not be Mr.Snuffles.
I won the worlds worst game show because sure enough, the light filled the underside of the bed. And that blonde pigtailed girl who looked no older than 7 screamed worse than any murder victim Id ever laid my knife on. She turned and ran as fast as her little legs could go.
I raced after her, originally to kill her, but I had enough things to worry about. At the bottom of the stairs, she went left into the living room, I went right towards the kitchen. I kicked open the door to the patio, just over hearing the girl tell whoever that there was a mobster under her bed, and I ran out into the night.
I didnt know what I was going to tell the boss. But between being ratted out by a stuffed dog and not knowing how to use a GPS, I knew he wasnt gonna be happy with me. | 2017-02-07T01:29:03 | 2017-02-06T22:06:57 | 545 | 137 |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | Stephen walked through the hallway with slow heavy steps and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, "I'm on my way, Sarah."
He didn't so much say the words rather than dribble them past his mumbling lips.
The sound of his flip-flopping furry slippers announced his arrival and he pushed open the disney-decorated door.
He carefully peeked inside, scanning the room.
Sarah sat in the corner of her bed, tightly gripping a pillow and pressing it to her face.
Stephen flashed a tired smile, "Sarah, honey. What's wrong?"
She spoke with her face still buried in her pillow, "Dabby, thers a maobster."
He walked over to the bed and messed up her hair, "There's no such thing as monsters." he said with a reassuring smile.
Her innocent eyes moved from the pillow to her father, "Can you make sure?" she pleaded.
Stephen crouched down on painful knees and peeked under the bed, getting ready to diligently inspect dust bunnies and old stuffed animals.
His eyes moved like a lighthouse light across a harbor, passing over the mobster hidden between stuffed animals.
He slowly rose to his feet, mumbled something about back-pain, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and had a second look.
Stephen locked eyes with a portly man wearing a striped suit and a scowl, "Wise guy, eh?" hissed the man.
Feeling quite awake, Stephen jumped to his feet and kicked the bed frame.
"*Bada-bing...*" growled the bed frame.
Stephen kicked the bed frame again, "Get out of there!"
The mobster scurried out of his hiding place like a fat squirrel on ice.
He swept his hand beneath the bed and retrieved his brimmed hat before standing a full 5 feet tall.
Sarah bolted from her bed and hid behind her father, who weakly gestured towards the bed, "Why were you under my daughter's bed?"
The man donned his hat and shrugged, "Laying low."
"But *why*?" repeated Stephen.
The mobster chuckled, "I can't very well stand in there, can I?" he said with a wry smile, "I mean, c'mon. Look at it."
Stephen rolled his eyes, "Oh, so you're a comedian now."
The man smirked and retrieved a cigar from his coat pocket, pinched off the end using a cutter, and lit it.
He inhaled deeply and puffed forth a cloud of smoke, "No," he said through clenched teeth, "No funny business."
"An *acquaintance* of ours has been hesitant to make his payments," explained the mobster, "I'm here to remind him."
Stephen rubbed his forehead, "Hold on, you're using this room as a black market meet-up?"
"That's right," confirmed the mobster, he finished the remainder of his cigar and flicked it across the room, "Although the client doesn't exactly know we're meeting-up, if you catch my drift."
Stephen raised an eyebrow, "An ambush? You're ambushing this client from beneath my daughter's bed?"
The mobster raised his hands apologetically, "Under beds is just the sort of place their kind likes to be."
Stephen started when the doorknob of the closet began to rattle.
The mobster reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handgun, "But they get in through the closet."
The hinges of the closet door creaked in protest, the door was carefully opened by a small green hand.
Stephen hastily took his daughter's hand and fled towards the hallway.
The mobster cocked his gun and pointed it towards the closet, his voice was ice, "We've been eagerly awaiting your payments, Mr. Wazowski."
| "Muuuuuuum! Daaaaaaaaaaaad!" Ivy screams as she bursts through my door. I jolt straight up and look at her, her Dora the Explorer pajamas stained with urine down the leg. "There is a mobster under my bed!"
"Alright sweetie," I reply rubbing my eyes and looking over at my now rudely awoken wife. "I got this." I say, patting her on the back and standing out of bed. I move over to the closet and grab a wooden baseball bat. "You stay in here darlin', but take off your pants." I move past my daughter and saunter with a slumbering stride towards her room.
I move through the archway into her room with a cough. I take a large sniff of air, smell the piss she had left behind and slightly gag. The walls were adorned with fairies, unicorns, as well as a poster of One Direction.
I hate One Direction so much. You don't know you're beautiful my ass.
"Look out monster, I'm here to get you," I say with a boom, loud enough that Ivy could hear me in the other room. Ivy always felt more assured if I narrated a scary tale as I scanned her room. "I've got a bat, a big one at that, and I'm gonna club your head, till you're dead." She especially loved the rhymes. I moved over to the bed and became uneasy. It was moving with slight bumps, as if something was under the bed.
I felt a chill before I ducked under to check. Her bedroom window was open. With furious speed, I checked under the bed to see a blood-stained man cowering in fear.
"Johnny?" I bit out. His bones rattled for a few seconds before replying to me.
"Ay... Ay boss," he murmured. "I got the wrong room." I grab Johnny and pull him out from under the bed, blood slicking the trail he just know made.
"Yeah, you got the wrong fuckin' room. What the fuck happened to you?" I try my best to remain quiet as I talk now, lest not alert my family.
"Deal went bad," Johnny coughed up a heap of blood and mucus into his hand before continuing to speak. "Romero's weren't happy with the product."
"So you decided to run here?" I could feel the venom drip out of my tongue as I spoke. "Scare the literal piss out of Ivy."
"I'm sor-" I punch him across the mouth. One of his teeth broke off into my index finger knuckle and cut deep.
"Sorry ain't gonna fuckin' cut it here Johnny." I put the bat against the side of Johnny's head lightly and watch the fear drain through his body. "Now, I see what ya did. Part of me even respects it."
"I didn't know what else to do Boss! They shot everyone else that went! I... I..." Johnny's blubbering as he spoke was almost as insulting as him fleeing to me. At my home. With my family.
"Shhh..." I say to Johnny, leaning down and placing my hand on the back of his head. "It's okay Johnny. It's okay."
"Is it boss?" Johnny looks up to me. That little glint of hope in his eyes was... endearing.
"Of course fuckin' not." I crash the bat down across the side of his head. A large spray of blood soaked the walls, including that One Direction fucking poster, and continued to layer everything in cathartic carnage. With every whack I felt his skull cave a little bit more, his arms break just a fracture more, his chest collapse into his lungs and his soul break.
My arms were heavy after a few minutes. I'd spent every bit of energy I had turning Johnny into a bloody pulp. I dropped the bat on the ground, walked back out the door and slowly towards the room with my darling daughter and my gorgeous wife. The look of shock on both their faces was daunting.
"Monsters dead baby," I say to Ivy who was tearing up. "Daddy took care of it."
"Bu...but Dad," Ivy spoke out to me with a whimper. "It was Johnny. It was your friend, wasn't it?" I knelled down and made eye contact with my little girl.
"Monsters dead baby," I put my hands across the side of her head and held it tight, so she couldn't turn away from me. "Daddy. Took. Care. Of. It."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you liked this, check out /r/Rhysyjay | 2017-02-07T01:29:03 | 2017-02-06T22:00:26 | 545 | 58 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Tenz looked at the human ship they were about to buy, it was the only thing they could afford at the moment and they needed to get away ASAP. The seller assured them that the FTL drive was completely safe, a Sol Stop Drive, that was the type of FTL drive it had. Tenz had heard horror stories about what could go wrong with Sol Stop Drives. Every other FTL drive that was ever made was about going very, very fast or making other things go very very fast. The Sol Stop drive did the opposite. It stops the entire universe, shifts your ship into another plane of existence and waits till it drifts to where you wanted to go then brings you back and lets the universe continue. That's at least what the humans told everyone it did, none of the other races understood how it worked. Tenz could think up thousands of ways that the Stop drive could go wrong, some of these were real problems with it, others were just theories. Firstly there's the surprise of something just appearing with no warning, other things crash into it, and some other drives use the same plane of existence the Stop drive supposedly uses so we know that's safe but those ones don't stop the universe so you can still get a signal from them approaching. And then there's the whole "stopping the universe" what would happen if a Stop Drive malfunctioned and the universe never got restarted? The scariest thing about that is that it could have already happened and nobody would ever know! Steeling themselves Tenz stepped into the ship and put in some universal co-ordinates, then pressed the stop button.
Nothing happened, and nothing was going to happen either, as this universe was stopped.
In another reality Tenz pulled their tentacle back from the stop button and looked out the view port to see that they had arrived, there must have been nothing to worry about after all.
Edit: Thanks for the Gold! | We had made contact with the inhabitants of TH-49, or, as they called it, Earth. Unlike every other species we've encountered, we didn't come to them. Rather, they came to us. With this came a few different problems. Firstly, we didn't have any forms of diplomatic greeting prepared. They had caught us with our metaphorical pants down, so our first conversations were rather rushed and sloppy. Not a great start to meeting a major species. Another problem with this is that we never had the chance to share our advanced FTL technology with them. It wasn't much, just the framework for FTL travel, and the various species that we had encountered and shared this with all did something different with it. Teleportation, wormholes, bending space, and so on and so forth. In the end, however, the results were all the same: sleek, elegant, completely safe travel at speeds faster than light. These humans, however, had created a much different approach.
I'll never forget the sight I saw from my viewport when they first arrived. Hundreds, if not thousands, of things that I would hesitate to call ships suddenly appeared outside of one of our most populated stations. These ships bore no sign of our technology, and were bulky, hideous creations. Where smooth, flowing corners should have led from the front of the ship to the engines laid harsh forty-five degree angles. Every side was painted bright red and almost completely flat, not counting the engines. Oh lord, the engines. Large, seemingly combustion-based engines engulfed the backs of the ships, looking as if the ships were stuffed full of them, with the engines only managing to tear through at the back.
Our first conversation was televised across the entire station, with their primitive language automatically translated to what we could understand.
"Greetings, inhabitants of TH-49," announced our ambassador, "We did not know you had developed such advanced technology, so we apologize for not quite being ready to greet you as of this moment."
"Apology accepted, aliens," replied a human, presumably the ambassador, "After all, we expected that you'd be too blown away by our technology to even speak."
"Yes, yes. This truly is an..." Our ambassador hesitated for a moment, presumably to rack his brain for a compliment, "...Inventive form of space travel. May I please ask who created this system?"
"Well, you're talking to him right now," the human responded boldly, "Name's John. John Kerbal."
----------------------------------
So this was my first ever time writing a writing prompt, and I would like a little bit of feedback on how it turned out. Anything helps! | 2017-03-30T22:23:44 | 2017-03-30T22:16:31 | 1,412 | 85 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Xandar was fuming. 20 smismars he'd been waiting in the bowels of that horrible assembling of junk and metal the humans proudly called their *flagship of intergalactic friendship*. It was bad enough when those hairless pink monkeys made it to outer space but now they had developped a functioning FTL drive and that made them *worthy* of introduction into the Galactic Alliance.
In all his bismars as official technological investigators of the Galactic Alliance's scientific division, Xandar had never seen such a pathetic excuse for a ship. Neither he or any of his colleagues wanted to partake in this scientific inspection. They actually had to draw straws and to his utter disappointment, Xandar lost. Xarcy tried to cheer him up, noting that the human FTL drive was probably a dud anyway. Their first long distance drive was barely a stupid bedsheet catching solar wind, how could they have build a fully functioning FTL drive is such little time since.
21 smismars, where the hell was that pink ape that was supposed to show him the drive ? Xandar only wanted to get done with this and leave. The human vessel was small, cramped and much too warm for his taste. It also didn't help that everything was made to accomodate 6ft tall apes, at 9ft tall, a respectable height for a noble Glaxian like him, he was constantly banging his upper appendage on the ceiling and door frames.
Finally a metal door opened and 2 hairless apes ran toward him. The first one, pink and the second one dark brown. Fascinating thought Xandar, I've never seen such a dark colored ape. At least some decent scientific information. Maybe the science council would let him abduct such a specimen later on for testing. Humans usually didn't mind a few abduction here and there as long as you didn't touch the cows sleeping in the fields.
The 2 apes escorted Xandar to the engine room. The first thing that caught Xandar's attention was the intense heat coming from the doorway, much worst than the rest of the already hot vessel.
>Right this way Dr Xandar, you're gonna love this!
Words could barely describe the sights that laid in front of Xandar when he crossed into the room
*What the hell kind of piece of shit is that?*
>What, the FTL drive ?
>>Quite the beauty isn't she ?
The drive in question looked like a random pile of junk with tubes coming out of the sides, hot steam rising from them. The whole thing was red hot and there was a very annoying sound of pressured gas being shot into the machine at close interval. On top of the device sat 2 giant glowing green tubes.
*Are those Arthosian power cores ?*
>Yes, you have a good eye Dr Xandar.
*Where in the 5 stars did you get these ? Only a handful were ever created and the Arthosian guard them very closely*
>>We found them!
>Of yeah, came upon a space wreck near Alpha Centory IV and we managed to recover quite a lot of technology from it.
*Wait wait... you stole them from a broken ship ?*
>Not stole, never. We found them.
>>Space salvage!
*Does the Arthosian empire know you're using stolen tech ?*
>I dunno, they never complained about it before you brought it up.
Xandar was flaggerbasted, these hairless apes weren't just stupid, they were a menace.
*Fine, walk me trough it*
>Oh you're gonna love this doc. By stripping the neutrino element of the 2 power cores and jerryrigging them together, we managed to create a power unit strong enough to blast trough the fabric of spacetime, and into the slipstream.
*Wait a minute, you stripped the power core of its protective shielding ?*
>Why yes.
>>It was really annoying really, hiding all the good stuff.
*ARE YOU FUCKING NUTS! Those a radiation shielding, this stuff is extremely dangerous*
>I know that, we all know that
>>It needed to be done. Beside, we added some plasma shielding to it.
>Yes, it should do the job... enough.
*Jesus fucking christ.... continue*
>Well, as I was saying, the drive allows us to punch our way into the slipstream and from there we can modify the flow of radiation emited by the power cores, enabling us to navigate different planes of the stream.
>>It's like a chose you own adventure travel book. Add a gamma variant to the radiation cocktail and you can move faster, replace it by a theta variant and you can navigate, for lack of a better word, "UP" into the 4th dimension.
*How do you exit the slipstreem ?*
>Well, we found that injecting a low level ion isopote directly into the power core will create an instability in the stream that causes the ship to be ejected, albeith rather violently.
>>Yes, the first test vessel exploded on exit.
*My god, this is catastrophic*
>We thought so to, so insted we just shut off the drive and the ship gets ejected much more softly.
*What... no! I mean... this whole system is horrible...*
>It's not so bad once you work out the kinks
*But how.... this must be ridiculously unstable !?*
>Oh boy... that's an understatement
>>You have to understand, all this only works if we keep the core overheated to exactly 3,568 degrees.
>Oh yes, any variation of over 2.75 degrees and the whole thing would go kablewy
*This is nuts, how do you maintain the temperature ? I see no adaptive secluar temporal module anywhere*
>Don't have one
>>Yeah, this fancy stuff is much too complicated and too hard to get your hands on.
>For now we use a system of pressure injected water and nitrogen
*You forcecool it under pressure ?*
>Exactly! I knew you'd get it doc.
>>We alternate between injecting pressurized water and nitrogen to cool off the core with a 1.5 seconds interval between each injection
*What?.... that's....how!?*
>You know.... too hot, blast it with nitrogen. Too cold, switch to water. Perfect temperature, do nothing. We evaluate the temperature every 2 seconds and Frank over there pulls the switch to inject the correct cooling substance.
*So none of this is automated ?*
>Nah, we're hoping to find a suitable automated cooling mechanism soon though.
*Like what? A water tin can on a string with a hole on the bottom ?*
>>Well no that's.... hey that's actually a good idea
>Yeah, we should look into that.
*Allright.... not taking into consideration the immense safety concern, not to mention decent common sens, this thing appears extremely dangerous and also in violation of at least a dozen galactic regulations on plasma use and timestream protocoles, and that's just for starters*
>Really?
>>Well that's a bummer for sure
*I must ask, with all this violent punching around the slipstream, how does your system deal with excess radiations and temporal aftershock effects ?*
>Come again ?
*The extreme side effects of your shitty system!!*
>Oh that. I dunno, whatever happens in the slipstream stays in the slipstream I guess.
>>Yeah, I mean it's not like we plan on living in the stream you know. It's just a highway. You roll down the window and throw your trash out.
*Over 15 sentient species live in the stream, 4 of wich are official members of the Galactic Alliance.*
>Really, people live in there ?
*YES, THEY DO!*
>Well that's fucking stupid.
>>yeah, who in their right mind lives in a galactic highway ? That's dangerous, somebody could get hurt!
>And they call US crazy ? | Kalgor looked at the pale skined human in utter shock. 'They couldn't be serious in thinking that the rest of the galactic community would simply accept the use of this kind of technology'
“Mr. Adams...” Kalgor began.
“Doctor Adams if you don't mind Count Kalgor.” Dr. Adams corrected, he knew that if he didn't demand respect now that it would be harder to earn it back later. As it stood he could tell that the reptilian xeno that stood before him was not pleased with what had been unveiled only a hour ago in the space dock that was right outside his office window right now.
“Yes Dr.Adams. You must understand that of the various forms of FTL drive in use in the galaxy what you have unveiled here today is at best going to be seen as unsafe at best or outright dangerous to some in the galaxy.” He was struggling to keep the panic out of his voice, but despite his many deca-cycles of experience in diplomacy the very skill that had made him chosen as the Galactic Senate's emissary to the up and coming human race, he was begin to fail.
“Count with all due respect I fail to see what the overall difference is between our own hyperdrive and the Delfanit pulse tube drive or the Kantian gate system they all use hyperspace gravity waves to achieve FTL speeds.”
Kalgor's voice broke. “But you are punching holes in space to reach hyperspace!”
“So?” the Doctor responded nonchalantly.
“The Kantian's use a physical gateway to control entry into hyperspace and the Delfanit's use natural gravity currents to slip into hyperspace. Your system just punches holes into the fabric of space! Even our scientists can't tell if making those holes will not bring about the complete tearing of reality as we know it.”
Kalgor again reasserted some control over himself and continued.
“I know that this is a major milestone for humanity and means that you will not have to pay for the use of other species drive systems in your ships which will transform your economy and your military forces. But this is too dangerous besides, what possible advantages could this drive have over the other forms of FTL?”
Adams knew that this moment would be coming sooner or later and that he had to make the most it.
“So glad you could ask Count. The Kantian's gate system requires a massive amount of energy in order to not only open the entryway to hyperspace both for incoming and outgoing traffic, but to hold it open long enough for ships to get through. While they have relatively few systems in their Empire those that they have are spread out thus why the gate was developed. Once in system they use regular sub-light fusion drive to go from the gate to their ultimate planetary destination.”
Kalgor nodded his head as the Doctor continued.
“However due to the power requirements of just one of those gates not to mention the operating costs it would be uneconomical to have a gate at each planet.
Another thing is the time that the gate is held open effects the toll paid by merchant traffic thus why you don't see any Kantian merchant vessels over 1.5km in length. Beyond that length the ratio between hold space, engine size, and time to accelerate becomes uneconomical. They can't get moving from a stand still fast enough to go through the gate without occurring serious tolls and they can't dedicate more engine size because it cuts into their profits from loss of tonnage hauled.”
“Well... yes those are valid points but...” Kalgor stammered out but Adams didn't let up.
“The Delfanit pulse tube solves the power requirement issue and the infrastructure issue but those “tubes” where the gravity band waves are stable enough to sail on until they hit hyperspace are very restricting as they only occur naturally in a few places. This is why their Kingdom if you look at their history had periods of rapid expansion followed by long periods of solidification because goods had to travel often dozens of light years in sublight from system hubs that had these tubes thus slowing growth.”
Kalgor knew he was quickly losing ground and had little recourse as any other drive system that was used in the galaxy had similar glaring issues that were simply accepted.
The Maltiun wave-riders used massive 20km+ gravity sails to ride the same gravity waves as the Delfanit but instead of entering hyperspace they rode ever more powerful waves and were not limited in where they could go for the most part. But the system was high maintenance and very tonnage sensitive as the larger the vessel the longer it took for that vessel reach FTL speeds. The largest ships the species built took at least a standard week to get up to speed and then another week to slow down.
Salec skip drives on the other hand actually sent gravity anchor beams to latch onto hyperspace currents and pull the ship along technically “skipping” on the envelope between real space and hyperspace. The down side is that the anchors can only hold for so long and the power requirements while nothing like Kantians as this wasn't actually entering hyperspace. Meant that they could only skip anywhere from 20 to 100 lightyears depending on the ships configuration before having to recharge their anchoring system, which could take a standard day or up to a week on the largest shipping vessels. Still faster than going at sub light speeds for sure but it meant long travel times for goods.
“Our system allows us to enter hyperspace at will, with no concerns about ship mass, size, or power production beyond engine thrust which combined with our already recognized and accepted superior fusion engine designs, means that we can potentially travel from one side of the galaxy to the other in a month. At least if you are willing to burn that much H3 fuel which even then is more a matter of being inconvenienced with having to stop for fuel rather than any sort of cost consideration.”
The silence in the office was deafening as Kalgor stepped towards the window and looked upon the vessel.
“But the holes Doctor! You may have a system that doesn't have the others drawbacks but we are talking about ripping apart space itself.”
“Count Kalgor I am growing weary of this repeated falsehood. We have be using the same points in orbit to develop this system for over a standard year, and every time we have gone we have had to open a new hole as the last one closed once the vessel is through. Beyond the gravity wake left by the opening you can't tell any thing happened at all after 24 to 36 hours. It is safe.”
“The Senate will not accept this...” Kalgor started hoping he was right to bank on the repugnant nature of this very concept.
“They might not now but they will when they see the Eli Whitney.” Adams spoke ominously. He turned on the large holotank in the middle of the room. The image displayed a monstrous vessel.”
Kalgor turned around and his eyes went wide at the image.
“Is this a warship?” He asked as the ever growing list of implications in his head grew with each passing second.
“No my Count, it is not. It is a merchant vessel commissioned by the Wal-Mart Cartel. She is 75km long, over 2km tall with 12 50-Petawatt fusion reactors with a top estimated FTL speed of 50 but will likely run at 10 to save on fuel costs as such speed is generally unneeded. The whole vessel weighs over 500 million tons 490 of which is hold space capable of hauling virtually anything you can think of. She is going out for trials in a hour then if all goes well she will make a fully loaded iron ore run from the Sol system to Peraxus VII and its heavy industry there. And given that the Senate is on Peraxus V the Eli will make a pass and see if there is anything that needs to be shipped back here to Earth on the return trip.”
As the Doctor finished Kalgor could feel his heart tighten at the size of the vessel and its speed. It would be in the Peraxus system in 3 days, even if he left now in one of the fastest vessels money could buy now he couldn't hope to get there in anything less than 12 days.
“You humans are reckless and unorthodox beyond anything I have ever heard of in my life. But I can't argue with the results.” Kalgor finally stated any hope of resistance gone as the pragmatic side of him knew that economically humanity had, in 10 years after first contact blown every other power in the galaxy out of the water. Another voice his is head whispered about what would happen if mankind made warships on such a scale.
“Well Doctor I don't see any point in arguing anymore but if you can let me on this vessel and join me in the senate with your research especially on the whole hole-punching-then-closing-up-perfectly part, then maybe we can avoid starting a bigger galactic panic then what we absolutely have to.”
“Of course Count I'm already packed and I have made such arrangements already. We can leave once the ship has gone through its final trials.” The Doctor proudly stated. | 2017-03-31T09:27:39 | 2017-03-31T07:50:09 | 99 | 34 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | "Idiot fuk human design shit-tier spaceship get all Brogga friend kill't. End all. Stoopt fuk. E'ryon kno warp spacetime. E'ryon kno break litspeeding. E'ryon kno crate warm hole. E'ryon kno cut mass half. E'yron cept idiot fuk humans. Y d'sign dumb shit-tier drive can't fi'ure out nuttin'. Cant warp spacetime. Cant break litspeeding. Cant crate warm hole. Cant cut mass. 'Stead idiot fuk human burrow down subquark stangelet bullshit risk implode entire quadrant for fuk newmatter. Y? Too dumb, tha's y. Now Brogga stuk dumb idiot fuk human ship on oth'r side galactic spinward fr'home. Idiot fuk human get Brogga kill't, get Brogga friend kill't..."
The muttering was cut off by a bang, followed by curses unutterable by the tongues of men. Poor old Brogga had been clanking about underneath the hullward dash for the last three days, almost without a break, muttering the entire time.
Say what he would, Brogga was nothing short of a mechanical genius, being the only Broggan capable of working on the Subquark-plated external combustion Engine. It took a particularly pliable mind to make an external combustion engine work, particularly when one was compressing- and burning- pure vacuum. The only real downside was the slight chance of creating decay, but if that happened it wouldn't matter as the entire tanker would be destroyed within seconds. I supposed it would have mattered to the rest of the Universe, but Brogga wouldn't have cared for he would have been the first to go.
Well, okay, there was a second slight problem. See, by burning pure vacuum they wore away a little strip of the cosmos. It was so small that it probably didn't matter, and the Universe was expanding anyways, but certain routes did get more traffic and engines were getting more efficient all the time.
"Idiot fuk human shit design fuk"
More clattering and banging from underneath the hullward dash.
"Idiot fuk human, try now"
Brogga's curses were rewarded with a shuttering rumble as the external combustion engine roared to life.
"Well that's curious" Captain Froy remarked, staring in disbelief at the guages.
Normal external combustion engines were able to operate somewhere between 10,000% and 100,000% efficiency, and for every joule of vacuum energy burned 100% efficiency would yield 10 kilo-joules.
The digital display read 10^89 % efficiency.
"Brogga, I think this gauge is busted."
"Idiot fuk human replace it then. Brogga sleeps."
Then, with customary swagger Captain Froy shoved the throttle open and pulled out, easing back into his seat for a cozy nap. However, when Captain Froy awoke several hours later he was not where he expected. In fact, he was not sure where he was at all.
You see, Brogga had accidentally upgraded their engine. Nobody saw the display, but if they had, they would have seen Brogga, Froy, and the rest of the crew tearing ass across the Universe, ripping a cosmic-scale gash in the vacuum like God's holy zipper. Of course this hole rapidly closed up, but in the time it would normally take them to travel a few hundred lightyears they had soared clear of the "observable Universe" several times over.
In fact, they had traveled so far they weren't entirely sure how to get back.
Thus began the journey of Brogga and the idiot fuk humans who wasted 600 years of his life and destroyed his capacity to speak properly. | The inhabitants of Oflesq station heard what they had come to learn was the characteristic sound of imminent human arrival. No one understood it. A vast mooing, defying the supposed absence of sound travel in empty space. A mooing that sent chills down both of their spines; as if it were the old gods that had come, calling at last for the reckoning of all things. Two humans galloped into the hangar.
They were quickly escorted into the conference room, and after being joined by a single alien, the thick door was shut and locked. "This is the man?" Efroi asked. "Correct," said the tall, large human. Efroi knew the type; this one could be trusted, given the right compensation. But the other one...
"Hi, I'm Joey." Joey absentmindedly spit onto the floor.
Efroi made an assessment. This human was not like the others that it had seen; there was a certain change of mannerism, at once both carefree and uncomfortable with a complete lack of social grace and general awareness. This seemed to be his first time wearing a suit. It's first impression was of an uneducated common worker, yet it could detect that he probably did have an intimate knowledge of cows.
"Hi Joey, we would like to talk about your cows today. Could you... explain? I would like to know how they work and how you created them."
"Welp, you see, we humans 'ad made large advancements towards time travel. But it's impossible, see. You can change tha rate of time flow, but ya can't twist it back on itself. So I got to thinkin. I got these cows, see. Me and my family been breedin cows a long time. Tryina get the better cows, the best cows. I figure, why not speed up the process a little bit. So I throw some cows in there, in the device I mean, and an AI for the selective breedin. Set the dial the farthes it would go. I open the thing up two seconds later and boom. FTL cows."
*That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.* Efroi looked over to the other human, who remained expressionless. "So, um, how did you aquire one of these time manipulating devices, Joey?"
"I made it m'self. Not commercially available, see. Read up on the principles of it and got to work. Took a bit of work, too. To enclose the whole area, y'know. Set up a self sustainin environment, self sustainin robotics. Don't get me started on the energy source. People saw what I was doin, called me crazy. Now they're ridin *my* cows. They're the best cows in the universe, I reckon."
Efroi wouldn't believe it, none of it, if these humans hadn't just rode into the hangar on a couple of space cows. This man must be one of the best his species has to offer. "So, how do these cows work? What principle allows them to travel faster than light? How do they survive the vacuum of space, and the humans who ride on top of them? How do they fill the voids of space with their mooing?"
"Honestly, I ain't got a clue. No one does. The cows are in-comprehensible. Evolution works in mysterious ways. And the cows were in there quite a long time, see."
"How long... do you estimate?" Efroi began to feel even more unwell.
"Well, my internal clock ran out of memory space. It was only 64 petabytes but it was only designed to record the exponent of 10 for the number-"
"This is insane." Efroi stood up. "The cows are perfect beings, at least in this one respect. Do you realize the potential of this method? What it could do to the universe? You humans have kept this secret, yes? This information cannot be revealed again. This cannot be done again."
"But it ha-"
"Thank you for having us, Efroi. But this is all the information we are willing to disclose at this time," The tall human interrupted. "The cows are sacred beings who chose the simple dairy farmer Joey as their prophet, to usher in a new age for humanity. That is the official story, and you would do well to maintain that, Efroi," The tall man said. *That's the second stupidest thing I've ever heard.*
For the rest of its days, Efroi was forever haunted by the mooing that echoed amongst the stars, and the prophecy that it foretold. | 2017-03-31T12:19:53 | 2017-03-31T07:04:11 | 37 | 15 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Trendsetti was looking at the report on the testing of forward-pushed wormhole system, and he wasn't happy.
On paper, FPWS should have been perfect. A space ship does a couple of certain calculations about its destination, sends the results into its Yadari-Futara particle launcher, fires a reversed Yadari particle projectile from it in destination's general direction, and the projectile goes on its way and creates a wormhole for the FTL travel.
In practice, it turned out to work just fine. The downside, as the report states, is that physical objects don't like it when the projectile goes through them, something Yadari and Futara apparently overlooked. Apparently, when the projectile, basically a kind of a miniature black hole, makes a contact with a physical object (say, an alien race's space ship with the emperor of that entire alien race currently on board), the object gets this nasty desire to collapse into itself and blow up (something that alien race is most certainly not going to like).
Trendsetti thought it was funny. Mankind wanted to find a way to travel faster than light but accidentally invented a superweapon instead. Too bad they're probably going to have to use it as such very soon. | "It is simply unsafe and foolish!" Gorthlak, the representative for the Zorknoids, complained to the council of intergalactic travel.
"It is, This we all know, but we don't think their bodies could handle any other way of faster than light travel" countered Ferlas, leader of the committee.
"If their calculations are off by even a percentage they could cause untold devastation. It is to risky, we must stop them before they destroy something important" Gorthlak explained.
Ferlas shook his eye stalks in exasperation "You haven't met the humans yet. They are ready to declare war on all of us. Their travel mechanism is also their greatest weapon. I do not believe we could stop them easily. It's to powerful. Here. Watch this video then you will understand." Ferlas activated the video screen and a blue planet appeared in the middle. The camera zoomed in on a country until it started to focus on something barely ten feet tall.
A great beast of a humanoid was stomping around. He was ten feet tall and was made entirely out of muscle. His speech was stunted and he seemed to growl more than anything else, but he walked over towards a small space ship and grasped it by a handle built onto it for this very purpose. The space ship was much larger than this man and weighed over a hundred tons, but he picked it up like it was nothing.
Once the ship was off the ground, a large red arrow appeared on the ground. The man walked over until he stood on the tail, and started to spin in a circle. He spun for nearly a minute before stopping and throwing the ship at the same time. The ship disappeared almost immediately. The camera quickly scrolled out of view from the planet until the ship came back into focus, it was moving at half again light speed.
"What do they call this technology?" Gorthlak stuttered in a hushed voice.
Ferlas simply replied. "The hulk." | 2017-03-31T08:44:19 | 2017-03-31T06:55:10 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] You are the dark lord in a fantasy world however you rule a fair and just kingdom you just like to look evil while doing it. | I stared down at the men levelling their blades at me. I spied several of the palace guard amidst the swelling ranks in my throne room. I turned to my head guard for assistance and was met his sword leveled at me.
"Really Hector? A coup? How bold." I smiled blithely down the blade before turning back to the crowd. "And Doctor Leach too? I didn't know you had it in you. And is that old Captain Hulm? Well, blow me... Come on the, do tell... Who was the mastermind of all this?" A pause hung heavy between us. "Don't be shy... I'm *impressed*." A short runt of boy was pushed forth, the crowd closing behind him. Separated from his legion he looked weak and weedy, clutching his sickle like his life depended on it. He probably thought it did. Poor kid.
"Dark L-lord Azimuth of Duskbridge. W-w-we come, ah, before you, to... ummm."
"I'll wait." I grinned. This only flustered the poor whelp even further. He looks back at the stonefaced mob behind him. He sighed, before raising his sickle and proclaiming,
"Dark Lord Azimuth, We have come before you to defend our rights as citizens and put an end to your tyranny."
"That's a noble sentient. I'd probably have been more worried if you *weren't* shaking like a leaf. A+ for effort though." I stand to gave him a round of applause. Everyone in the room tightened their grip on their weapons. "Oh, for godsake, lower your weapons. You'll have someone's eye out."
"We will not be mock, Azimuth." A voice boomed from the crowd.
"Me? Mocking? *Wouldn't dream of it*." I raised an eyebrow, "Now... what was it you wanted?"
"Your head on a spike and your tyranny gone from this land!" The same voice bellowed.
"My good sir, I do believe you're drunk. Now, anyone sober, what do you hope to gain from deposing me?"
I walked up to the head of the crowd. I leaned in closer. Long black robe trailing behind, I paced. "Anyone?"
"War."
I spun. It was Hector. "War, Hector? Why? To what end? Because you of all people know it's never war for the sake of war." I rolled my eyes. "It's because people *want* something. So I'll ask again. What *exactly* do you people want?"
"Freedom." It was the boy, his sickle hung limply at his side as he shrugged, almost like he wasn't sure of his motivation himself.
"Ok, freedom. Good. But freedom from what, exactly? What oppression do you know in your day to day lives?" I returned to my throne.
"Freedom from your evil tyranny."
"See, you keep using that word... Tyranny. You think me a *tyrant*? I am no such thing. A tyrant is one who rules with an Iron Fist over a domain he has no claim to. I do Neither. I have not been harsh on my people. I have been a merciful, dare I say kind, ruler. And as to claim, I inherited the crown from my father, he from his, he from his and he won it in a poker game from a man who inherited it from his. The crown and land are mine, because their previous owner said so. Look it up, I have a legal claim to all this land. I own all your homes, all your businesses, all your livelihoods and I could evict you if I so chose. But I don't. I don't even demand excessive taxes. I offer social welfare and state subsidised education. Does that sound tyrannical to you? What about the justice system? A fair trial to be judged by an impartial judge and a jury of your peers. I'd like to say that sounds just and fair, right? We don't even demand military service in exchange for your rights. Dear Gods, I'm almost *too* generous."
"You are an evil and wicked man!" The boy's voice wavered.
"Am I? Sorry, must have missed a memo. But what exactly do I do, or fail to do, that gives you justification to call me that?"
"You levelled three whole streets on Riverside just last week." He cried out.
"The housing was no longer up to standard and a drake infestation made the entire area a fire hazard. The citizens have been relocated."
"To the bone orchard." One of them muttered.
"No, to a community housing area in the northern quarter." I sighed.
"You allow, no, *welcome* Alchemists and Necromancers into your court."
"*Scientists* and *Medics*." I corrected.
"They're experimenting on corpses!"
"How else are they to study anatomy? I couldn't very well condone letting inexperienced medical students loose on *living* citizens, could I?"
"What about the way you dabble with black magic?" Yelled the drunkard from the back of the crowd.
"Not magic. Science."
"Your jester made a joke at your expense a few days ago, no one's heard from him since." Another called out.
"He came down with a nasty flu. Doctor Leach can back me up here. He's recovering, which is just as well. Things have been so very dull without him."
"You introduce yourself as Dark Lord Azimuth of Duskbridge, Dreadmaster of the Midknight Guard. Come on, admit it, you are Evil."
"The Title came with the crown. There are seven Dark Lords under the High King, and not one of them is tyrannical. Each of the seven darklands has a democratic consil, a social safety net and free health care. That's why its a *Dark* Lord, by the way, because I rule a Darkland. I can't just change name of my position."
"You... you..." they struggled for a justification.
Finally, "You, uh, wear... an awful lot of skulls for a, ummm, not-evil Dark Lord? All the crown jewls are skull shaped too. Your throne is decorated with them."
"That," I said, nodding sagely, "Is becase Skulls look *Awesome*." | Green grass cropped short wiggled in the summer wind. Rosy children in a ring sang a rhyme of a ruler, "just and wise, or just wide". An optimistic din brightened every note, every breath.
As cheers erupted in the distance, their parents appeared, scooping up their children and carrying them to the source of commotion. Colorful and noisy, parade marched down cobbled streets, celebrating all bits of their life. The people cheered at their folk heroes, their entertainers, their musicians, their ancient battle dress. They cheered the most, however, at an effigy. Soon the whole crowd was screaming in delight, for as it passed the people they lit a strand leading to it, until the flames engulfed it: a fat king.
I jostled awake at the sound of wood breaking. "Well, that's new," I murmured as I finished off the goblet of wine resting on my throne. Their damned battering ram had been going for hours, and I actually was lulled to sleep slightly by the constant rhythm of it. I had been up for three days now watching the end of my kingdom, and hoped to catch a glimpse of sleep before the rioters took me. The bonfire I had my last loyal servants build, in the center of the hall, burned bright and strong. They had done a good job and so before they left, I gave them a few recipes and what coin I had left on me.
Even though I had planned this, I still felt a level of fear. While manipulating the social currents wasn't too difficult, I had no idea if the anger of the mob would get the better of them, if I would end up kneeling down with my head in a guillotine. It would all be worth it, either way. My gods have seen that I have stayed true, and promoted a better world for all. I would be rewarded in the afterlife. Not to mention, I still felt a level of pride for making this all work.
I started as a lowly priest charged with making the world a better place in the name of Bekhaim. He commands true justice and righteousness at all costs. As part of our training, we are required to travel, to see injustice manifest so that we might know what it is we truly fight against. And so, I came across these lands. The local lord was cruel to his people, but they accepted it. He was angry at the world, the gods, his land, his people, everything. But in his situation, I saw a chance. His anger was due to being grey in the tooth and yet not having an heir. He did not even have siblings or cousins to take up the mantle of his lineage. And so, I began to offer my services to him, to help him bear a child.
At first, I believed him having a child would make him a better king, but over time the plan changed. He neared the end of his days, and I learned how to navigate the intrigue of his court. I gathered support for myself, and fostered a network of both spies and criers to help me. When the king died, I made a bid for power. My reputation was a shining one, and though some local lords resisted, a few quietly-murmured curses worked wonders for sabotaging their attempts. The lords went back to their strongholds, angry at being usurped. As I began to feel out my role and powers within government, I set to making the people's lives better.
Then the Lord's Revolt happened.
I had decided to start a grain dole, to feed the sick and hungry. This dole would have come from part of the extra grain each lord was allowed to keep to sell to our neighbors, and would have been a fraction of their totals. But the lords convinced the serfs and craftsmen that I was stealing it directly from their table, and so led by their lords, soon my entire kingdom came knocking on my door. In response, I came knocking on the lords' skulls. The people viewed it as a brutal act, and it may have been, but I gave myself divine protections and strength and drove a hammer into their brains. I took direct control of things, and instituted my grain dole.
But the people hated me. They abhorred and despised me, viewed me as a tyrant. They said the grain dole was made to give me an army of undesirables to fight against them. I didn't sleep well for weeks, frantically trying to come up with something I could do to win back their trust.
I never came up with that answer. But I did come up with a way to use this.
I never mistreated my subjects, but instead I turned my system of criers into a system of agitators, clamoring for positive change. They would claim that the people were overworked by their cruel king, that the forced tithe to the local church was unfair to those who did not believe, that certain groups were treated wholly unfairly. All of these were to correct policies of the former king, or were things I wanted to put in place but would be poisoned if it came from me. And so I used this system to agitate for reform, and would "reluctantly acquiesce" to the people's demands.
Forty years I did this. I became fat due to a lack of exercise, called myself a just and wise king so my agitators could call me "just wide." After spending the last five years setting up unions, coops and other methods of self-governance, it has come time for my rule to end. It moved a little faster than I thought I would, I believed I would have a chance to abdicate and flee, but this evening they amassed outside my halls and blocked any exit. They smack the door again, and the door gives a little bit. I see an arm as someone tries to slip through, but it's not nearly wide enough. I sigh. The door isn't even barricaded, it's just well-constructed. I considered unlocking it a few hours ago, but that would have ruined their fun.
I get up and walk to the pitcher of wine sitting at the banquet table. The pitcher is nearly empty, but with the last few drops it fills to just above halfway. I lower myself onto my throne as I watch the door buckle again against the battering ram. This time the metal latch bends, and the door is stick caving in. I see two small women slip in through the door and with a piece of metal given to them, throw open the latch. I finish my wine as the now-free people of my nation storm my halls brandishing hammer, sickle, pitchfork and torch alike. | 2017-06-12T11:17:27 | 2017-06-12T09:45:08 | 29 | 14 |
[WP] You are the dark lord in a fantasy world however you rule a fair and just kingdom you just like to look evil while doing it. | "There, you each get half of a child" I said with a mirthful grin, spreading my fingers as I leaned back and eyed my victims.
"So...we can adopt?" Said Merigille, the fishwife.
"Yes, you have to share a squalling pile of human filth" I said with a leer, my heart nearly burst with their misfortune.
"Oh thank the nine!" Cried Fosriel the weaver as she embraced Merigille.
"And....she may never become a ward of the state, else you will both mine the salt coasts till your deaths" I said, what a beautiful idea, the child was already foretold to suffer a miserably normal life until she joined my personal guard out of guilt or something called "gratitude."
The two embraced in their misery, having to share such an intense burden.
"Next case!" I cried as the weeping couple was escorted out of the tomb of judgement. Let the next supplicant suffer my unjust ruling. | Rupert had a tattoo, long hair, and seemingly permanent eye liner. This made him the 'Bad Prince' in a society that was much too nice for it's own good. Everyone had their opinion on the him but he never payed them any mind. He figured he would resurrect the art of heavy metal and had been working for a few years to get his band off the ground. That is until suddenly he was thrust into power. His father had decided to step down to start a potato farm. When Rupert asked him what he needed to know to run the kingdom his father replied, "Just stamp the papers on your desk in the morning. Everything kind of runs itself." "This was the problem with society," Rupert thought. Everyone was just too damn nice. There hasn't been war for centuries but if there were they would be wiped out. They were just sitting ducks. So he decided to start the military back up. People lined up in a hurry to be a part of this great plan. This was the proof Rupert needed that there was something people were longing for. The people that signed up though this was part of a play and that it was about time the government got into producing plays. Other nations saw his actions as trying to start up a war that no one was prepared to fight. They tried to convince him otherwise but Rupert stuck to his plan. After months of bootcamp and training they were ready for deployment. They had one of the most stellar war reenactments anyone could ever hope for. From all the readings of the history books Rupert had the force he had dreamed of. And the play was a success. It wouldn't be long before other countries started their own armies and put on plays of their own. | 2017-06-12T06:26:55 | 2017-06-12T04:15:26 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] You die and go to Hell only to find out that you're the only person that has ever entered. Satan is clapping. | A voice boomed, "Kneel, mortal."
I was dazed, and more than a little confused. My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety and dread, although I couldn't quite remember why. My head darted left and right as I tried desperately to find the source of the voice, but as far as I could tell, there wasn’t one. Above me was a pitch black sky, devoid of all character and life. Beneath me stood a desolate rock, surrounded by lava as far as the eye could see. Sulfurous ash assaulted my nostrils and burned my lungs, bringing tears to my eyes.
"Who...?", I croaked, but could get nothing more out. My mouth was dry, as if filled with sand. My throat spasmed as I attempted to speak, and I gasped for air.
“You dare to defy me?”
Suddenly, my body erupted in searing pain. I tried to scream, but could find no voice in my throat. My skin was on fire, my head pulsed and throbbed, and a wave of nausea rushed over me. I fell to my knees and watched in horror as I began to uncontrollably vomit up my own blood.
A cackle filled the air, punctuated by what sounded almost like applause. The lava in front of me shot up -- an awesome demonstration of power -- sending small droplets raining down on me like fiery acid. I watched in horror as the lava formed itself into a giant, twisted facsimile of a man, towering over me. It grinned sardonically.
"You know, I've waited a long time for you." The figure boomed. "More time than you can even comprehend.”
I stared through terrified eyes, trembling, the taste of blood still fresh in my mouth. I dared not speak. I dared not move. I knelt in silence.
"When the Lord condemned me to this forsaken abyss, He promised He would send me those human souls that were beyond salvation. The truly condemned, so hopelessly forlorn that even He, in His infinite love and wisdom, could not save."
"And so I watched, and waited. I watched as God welcomed into His loving embrace murderers, rapists, thieves and harlots – all manner of debauchery and evil. So long as He could find a single shred of worth – a single seed of value and goodness – He welcomed them into His realm, as if to mock me.”
“For a time, I thought I understood. You see, I thought God was telling me that I alone was uniquely beyond redemption; uniquely cursed to suffer this terrible realm of darkness and hate.”
“But you…”
Out of the lava formed an arm, a hand, and then a finger, which slowly unraveled and pointed at me. I felt my body rise, of its own volition, and I slowly began to walk toward the towering figure, inching ever closer to the fiery magma out of which it had formed. Each step accentuated the heat on my skin, causing my body to blister and burn. I tried to writhe. I tried to scream. I tried to do anything to make the pain stop, but I had no control.
“Out of all mankind, you alone have been deemed so uniquely depraved – so uniquely hopeless – that even God has forsaken you. And now you have arrived in my realm, as cast off and isolated as you were in life.”
I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t blink. I couldn’t do anything. My whole body cried out, as my skin welted and blistered. My eyes erupted in agony, and the world went dark as I felt them crust over. I could see no more, but I continued to feel my body slowly advance.
“And for what? You committed no atrocities. You perpetrated no genocide and murdered no innocents. No, you are here not for the depth of your crimes, for which God always manages to find forgiveness.”
I felt a scathing liquid surround my left foot, then my right, as my senses erupted in new heights of pain. My body slowly started to disintegrate – melting beneath me – shooting searing agony up my legs. I could see nothing, but could feel exposed bone splashed by lava. The figure laughed, hate-filled, and mockingly.
“No, you’re not here because you’re evil. You’re here because the way you lived your life demonstrated such a pathetic worthlessness – such a miserable, aspirationless existence – that even God could not find anything in you worth redeeming. You were nothing in life, and you are nothing in death. And now God has condemned you to me like the worm you are.”
With so little of my lower body left, I lost my balance, and fell forward, face first into anguish. The pain consumed me, rushing throughout my body until my every sensation was torment and misery. I felt myself disappear, moving closer and closer to nothingness, my final salvation. I embraced the void.
But suddenly, I found myself formed anew, once again able to see, and centered on the same desolate rock, the same figure towering over me once again.
“And after countless eons of waiting, my worm, rest assured – we’re going to have so much fun.” | "Wakey wakey" snarled a voice, breaking up an eternity of silence. "I am just *dying* to hear your story"
I opened my eyes slowly, and my vision filled up with red. Red clouds swirled through a yellow sky, red sand stretched for endless miles in every direction, and red mountains jutted into the horizon in the distance. There was a stench of fire and brimstone in the air, and it was almost hot enough to melt the skin off a man's bones
"Where am --" I began to ask, turning to face the voice, and the words caught in my throat
"What's wrong? You look like you've seen the devil!"
The creature, grinning with fangs at his own joke, looked like evil incarnate. It was huge and massive, with two great horns emerging from its head and curving inwards and two glowing red eyes
I'd seen monsters like this before, but only in paintings and comics. Biblical ones, especially. But this couldn't be Satan, right? Those were just fairy tales!
I wanted desperately to get away, but I felt like I was fused to the scorching ground. And it wasn't just fear that paralyzed me - I'd slowly realized that I *was* fused to ground. And it burned...it burns even now just like it did then
"Don't just gawk at me, you must have so many questions" urged the creature. "Sure, you have an eternity to answer them, but...*damn*, I can't get over the fact that someone actually wound up here"
"*Where is here?!*" I finally yelled, out of fear, anger and pain. "*What the fuck are you and what the fuck is this place?*"
The creature stood up on hooves and sighed. "Guess I'm going first. I have many names in the mortal world, but I've always kinda liked 'The Devil'. This place has many names there too, but the one you're probably familiar with is 'Hell'. That's right, boy-o, you've died and gone right to Hell!"
I couldn't believe it. *Wouldn't* believe it
"You're lying" I croaked. The ground was so hot
"Don't believe everything you read in a holy book. Besides, you being here is so improbable, I wouldn't even bother lying about it. I'm honestly as surprised as you are"
"Oh yeah? So surprised I'm in Hell, are you?"
"Here's the thing, the bossman - you guys call him 'God' - had a lot of fun creating humans but kinda lost interest right after" the Devil explained. "Every time he finishes one project, he moves onto the next. Anyway, God was a little concerned about making humans as smart and powerful as he did because they could become a threat to themselves and his other creations. I suggested making up a *really* shitty place we could threaten the humans with. We weren't planning on actually having anybody here, God is a big ole softie and I don't really take initiatives myself
"So, if you're here, you must've fucked up bad"
In a panic, I rewound my memory, searching desperately for a clue as to what I could've done to get sent to Hell. I never believed in God, but it didn't sound like God was too concerned about all that. So what else could I have done? My whole life, I just kept my head down and coasted through life until the cancer got me, never aspiring to anything more than just being a dude
Is that really so bad?
"Come on, now, what was your sin?" the Devil insisted
"Nothing! I did nothing! All I did was live!"
The Devil scratched his chin with awful clawed hands
"Yeah, I suppose that'd do it"
"What?"
"Look at the universe that God has created - or however much of it you humans have managed to see. It's pretty fucking glorious. God takes pride in everything he creates, and he wants all of his creation to be at its best, 100% of the time. To simply 'live' is a waste of the life he gave you, you gotta take that life and do something with it"
"So what, wasting my life is a sin?" I asked angrily
"Really, it's the *only* sin. Tell ya what, though, it's not all bad"
"Can I get off the ground?" I asked, struggling still against to get off the burning sand
"No, but I'll release your arms" he replied. "Also, you can have one of these" he added, conjuring a notebook and pencil out of fire in his hand
I tried to raise a hand to reach for the notebook and had to tear my arm off the ground. I still remember the sound of my screams echoing in the dead air
"Since you wasted your time in life, you can make yourself useful in eternity" explained the Devil. "I want you to write. Write about what happened today and write the stories of God and his creations. Your work will be read by the humans still living. Hopefully they'll learn from your example and you'll be the only one in Hell"
"Will I ever be free?" I asked him, hating that pleading note in my voice
"No. That is one thing the holy books don't lie about - this, my friend, is eternal"
So here I remain, fused to the ground. There is no sun, so I'm not sure how much time has passed, but it feels like centuries. It doesn't make any difference, though. My body doesn't age, and I'm never gonna be free, so all I can do is write, write and write
---
If ya liked that, I write short(ish) fiction on my blog right [here](https://talesfrommachina.wordpress.com). Stop by! | 2017-06-22T08:36:19 | 2017-06-22T07:25:49 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] You die and go to Hell only to find out that you're the only person that has ever entered. Satan is clapping. | "Dibs." I cried out over the Devil's clapping and laughter. He didn't seem to hear me, so I screamed it again. "**Dibs!**"
The Devil stopped and looked at me. "What do you mean 'dibs'?" He blinked, a little confused by my reaction.
I looked around the vast vastness of Hell before turning to Lucifer once more. "Well, no one else has been here yet, right?" He nodded. "And that means there's no prior claim to Hell, right?" The Devil cocked his head at that. "I mean come on, you aren't actually in charge of Hell, you were just cast down here. Like, so we were told for millennia, all the other sinners. Hell isn't yours, it's just something you are watching over. Hence 'dibs'." I started off in a direction, figuring the conversation was done.
"Whoa whoa whoa, hold a second there buddy." The Devil spun me around, fire crackling in his eyes. "I'm the **Devil**! Prince of Darkness! Hell is mine! God had Micheal cast me down and, wait..." I nodded.
"See? You weren't actually cast into Hell. You were cast out of Paradise. So, once again I call dibs on Hell, and to further seal the deal," I undid my jeans and took a leak on the ground. "I've marked it. Bet you never did that, did you?" I zipped back up.
"I can't urinate, I lack the physical necessities for such!" The Devil whined.
I shrugged and began walking again. "No my problem, not my fault. Now, let's see what I can with my new place." As I walked I envisioned a castle, a palace fit for my rule. The power of Dibs was only further enhanced by marking my territory. Turrets erupted forth from the ground, and in moments my castle was done. I crossed the moat and made my way to the throne room. "Hmm, this isn't right." I looked around, then snapped my fingers. "Let's make this bad boy fly." And with just the though, the castle floated into the sky. When I finally sat down I found the Devil right on my heels. "What do you want?"
Lucifer toed the rich carpet sheepish. "First off, can I crash here? I haven't actually had a place to sleep in all this time." I rolled my eyes and sighed, but finally nodded. Lucifer practically beamed. "Awesome! Also, I gotta ask. How did you do *that*?"
I looked down at the Devil. "You want to know? Okay, I'll tell you the story of how my soul got flipped, turned upside down. It will take a minute so sit right there and I'll tell you how I became the prince of Hell's Air." | The bright light starts to fade as I unshield my eyes to appear in a white void. There's a glossy white floor, and a dirty white colored degrading building. Other than that, it's just a void of white.
"Wow, heaven looks pretty boring."
You enter the building and go to the reception where you see someone sleeping, but it's hard to make out who exactly with the book on his face. As you go closer, you see two red horns out of the top of the book, it's the devil! It's Satan himself!
But why is he behind a reception table sleeping? Why is hell so.... empty? Why am I the only one here?
You gather up the courage and ring the bell.
"Youwillbefloggedtilltheendoftiiiii-uh" Satan wakes up startled and the book falls down. You stay motionless and quiet as you see this unfold in front of you.
"What? You made it to hell? How?" Satan stares at you confused, and pushes button on his ancient telephone.
"Hello? Dude, what the hell? How did this guy end up here?"
"Yeah but- So what? Can't you just- Fine."
Satan slams his telephone back, letting out a frustrated groan, and looks at you.
"Normally at this point I'd let you know all your sins and I'd tell you what punishment you'll have to endure, but I literally have no equipment to torture you with."
You stare at him confused. This isn't what hell is supposed to be!
"Here's a log of all your sins. Go ahead and take a look."
You open up the register, and flip past the old pages to the one with your name on it, written in fresh ink and clean paper.
**Hasn't made mark on world**
"Wh-what?" You say as your eyes widen. There isn't anything else written here, just that one sin. All the others had at least a hundred sins.
"That's not even a sin! Where's Hitler? Where Ivan the terrible? Where are the politicians?"
"Look dude, you literally haven't affected the world at all, you haven't shaped society, haven't changed the way people think about a certain topic. Hell, you haven't even bothered to say something dumb!"
"How is that even a bad thing? Hitler killed thousands of people! Henry the Eighth beheaded his wives! And still I'm above all of them?"
"They all committed crimes. But all of the crimes changed the way our society is. Had they not done such things, someone else might have, but because they have, now nobody will be able to do that thing again since history won't repeat itself. Even God can't change the fact that horrible things will happen, so if someone helped reduce the chances of that thing happening, that's good enough for him. You haven't done that."
"Th-that makes no sense. I demand to get into heaven this instant!"
"Listen, I opposed this too, and God took all my shit. What's more, people keep almost everyone make at least some impact on the world before they leave, so hell hasn't been getting a lot of people in it anyway. It's not fair, but nothing ever is."
"What's more, I think I came up with a punishment that suits you."
Your eyes widen as he states your punishment.
You're fast asleep, a book over your face, your feet up over the table. You have nothing to do and nothing you can do. All you can do is sleep.
**RING** | 2017-06-22T09:17:47 | 2017-06-22T06:26:05 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] Write a children's poem that slowly devolved in an insane persons chantings. | Jack, Jack the silly rabbit
Took my hat just to say he had it
And when I asked for its return
Jack the rabBIT MADE IT BURN!
IN MY ANGER, IN MY SPITE
I HAD TO KILL HIS KIDS AND WIFE
Jack, Jack the broken rabbit
Finally kicked his thieving habit | "And now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
And if I die before I wake
I pray the lord my soul to take."
"Again" he said softly.
"And now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
And if I die before I wake
I pray the lord my soul to take."
"AGAIN" he repeated.
"And now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
And if I die before I wake
I pray the Lord my soul to take"
He stared at her lovingly for a moment and then calmly said:
"And now I lay you down to sleep
Your body is mine and mine to keep
And you will die make no mistake
Your soul is mine and mine to take."
"Please..." she pleaded.
He had no reaction to her cries for help. He just slowly walked closer to her, repeating:
"Your soul is mine and mine to take.."
"Your soul is mine and mine to take.."
"Your soul is mine and mine to take.." | 2017-07-13T21:08:15 | 2017-07-13T20:33:29 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] Write a children's poem that slowly devolved in an insane persons chantings. | Im here baby
Don't you fear
Don't you cry
A single tear
Remember the fields
Of grass so green
Of flowers so bright
And colors so clean
Remember your mother
And her smile so kind
Holding you tenderly
Even though she was blind
Her eyes were gouged
And bleeding too
See, I had just beat her
Like I will to you
My precious baby
You're like the sunrise
But you'd look better
Without your eyes | "And now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
And if I die before I wake
I pray the lord my soul to take."
"Again" he said softly.
"And now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
And if I die before I wake
I pray the lord my soul to take."
"AGAIN" he repeated.
"And now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
And if I die before I wake
I pray the Lord my soul to take"
He stared at her lovingly for a moment and then calmly said:
"And now I lay you down to sleep
Your body is mine and mine to keep
And you will die make no mistake
Your soul is mine and mine to take."
"Please..." she pleaded.
He had no reaction to her cries for help. He just slowly walked closer to her, repeating:
"Your soul is mine and mine to take.."
"Your soul is mine and mine to take.."
"Your soul is mine and mine to take.." | 2017-07-13T21:55:57 | 2017-07-13T20:33:29 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] When you kill someone, their remaining life span is added to yours. Archaeologists have just found a cavern, apparently sealed off for thousands of years, with a single person living inside. | He looked about twenty five years old. Handsome, in a classical sort of way. The kind of person around whom statues get carved.
She’s never seen anything like him.
Nor had she heard anything quite like him. His language was guttural, something long dead and forgotten. Assuming, of course, it was a language. No one had ever lived a thousand years, let alone thousands. Whatever it might do to a mind, it probably wasn’t pretty.
She broke the phonemes down, and started mapping them. It made her life a little easier that he only said one thing over and over. But it made it a bit trickier too. Not a lot of hooks to bait.
She went over the notes from the archeologists. The pictograms showed what would have been a vast nation. Armies upon armies. Bushels of wheat. A big deal.
He never looked at anything but her. Repeating himself over and over.
She tried a bit of Greek. But there was no recognition. She worked her way through Sumerian, Abyssian, and a couple dozen minor tribes. But he didn’t show any sign he understood. Every answer, every reply, was the same set of words.
After a couple hours she noticed some patterns. Bits of what a dead language might sound like had anyone heard it in a thousand years. A language more about ideas than words. Emotions and intent made into sound.
He stared at her with eyes black as night as she worked. Repeating himself.
In the end it felt easy. The pieces that were missing slotted into place. The ancient young man spoke again, and to her new ears he said "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!”.
He looked unblinking. And then he said it again.
| *To whom it may concern,*
"Greetings. Although you probably don't see me, I am most definitely here...somewhere. My name is Xavius au Titus, and I am a remnant from a lost age.
I was born in Rome, in the glorious days of Trajan, where life was undoubtedly simpler than it is now. In those days, unsolved murders were common, and that is where I made myself. You see, I was born with a peculiar trait...those which I killed had their remaining lifespan added to mine. My first kill, young Claudius, was an accident. I was carrying a pot of boiling water through my home and dropped it on the maids baby, searing it and burning it beyond repair. I, well, put it out of it's misery and hid the body.
After the deed was done, I felt...reinvigorated. I could *feel* his life, his memories, his future becoming mine. I lusted for that feeling for the rest of my life. Soon killing evolved far beyond my lust for extended life. It became a game, albeit a deadly one, that I loved to play. I loved the feeling when my knife sank deep into an unsuspecting pair of ribs or the back of some simpleton's head. I was unstoppable.
Soon, my kill count reached enough that the gods could not bear to see me butchering their own so mercilessly and easily. I had amassed enough human life to last for thousands of years, and the gods decided that was enough. They took me in the night and locked me in my cage of earth, cursed to live until my life ran out. I awaited in solitude for someone to unlock me from this hell, to free me from the stone that entraps.
I have grown old. I can feel the life of uncountable dead seeping out of my limbs. I need a new source. And that, my good fellow, is where you come in. You see, you have freed me unto the world, a new world, where gods do not control men and society is so fractured that I could kill and kill and kill and nobody save your inadequate policemen would stand a chance of stopping me. I will repay you by making you the first of a new age of terror, of blood, of the screams of millions as I take their lives from them. Thank you. Now let the new age begin."
A blur of grey and black flew at me, and all turned red, then slowly black. | 2017-11-16T18:09:31 | 2017-11-16T18:02:29 | 580 | 208 |
[WP] You are a SpaceX astronaut on Mars. The earth as you knew it was lost to a nuclear war between NATO and China/Russia. Luckily your mission was to construct the colony and you have enough supplies to survive indefinitely. It’s been 25 years since loss of contact. You hear a knock on the door.
Edit: Wow thanks for all the upvotes!! My inspiration for this was a picture of the earth exploding and an astronaut looking at it from the moon. I love all of the submissions! Everybody has a different take on it! | "Hello, neighbour; I can't help but notice that you've built a colony on our planet." The thing was nine feet tall but so spindly it looked like it could fold up into a suitcase. "It's just, this is our planet already and you haven't got a permit."
"A permit?" I said, too bemused to express my shock.
"Of course a permit - you can't just go building colonies on other people's planets."
"But I've been here 25 years!" I said.
"We decided to give it a couple decades and see if you were just visiting but you really seem to have settled in, haven't you?" it said, stooping parallel to the ground and pushing through the airlock. It picked up my teapot between two fingers-like-spider-legs, and held it at eye level. "Settled right in."
I spent a moment in bemused silence as it peered with an unimpressed expression around my cluttered hovel.
"I've been alone, you see," I said.
"Have you?" it replied, head pivoting sinuously towards me.
"And I haven't had any visitors until now so I've not really kept it in a presentable state."
"I can see that. Not that it matters, you'll have to go back to your planet if you don't have a permit."
"But my planet has been destroyed!"
"What? Which one, Mercury?"
"No, Earth!"
"The blue one?"
"Yes the blue one, third rock."
"Third rock," it said, contemplating. "Yes, very wet, isn't it?"
"Yes very wet."
"You're mostly water, aren't you? I hear you can leak to death, is that right?"
"Not under most circumstances!"
"Anyway, what destroyed your planet?"
"Nuclear holocaust."
"You're still at the nuclear stage? How antique. Well, you'll have to go back. We'll fix it up for you."
"Fix it--do you understand, you gangly Martian, I am saying it's been annihilated by nuclear weapons."
"Yes you said that, how bad can the damage be? There were no antimatter munitions? You didn't expunge the atmosphere? Any dialithic spacial inversions? Is the xband constant destabilised?"
"No I don't think so..."
"Fine then, a little nuclear winter won't be any trouble. Do you want us to restock it?"
"Restock it...?"
"With life. Uh, 'Earth life'. We've samples going back quite a while I think. You are a *chim-pan-zee*," it said, carefully enunciating the word, "are you not?"
"No, no - human! Chimps is close, though, I suppose."
"Ah. Well, I think we have some human filed away. Ok, come with me, this will probably take a few hours. Bring a sandwich."
It stood impatiently by the door as I frantically made my last Martian sandwich and joined it hesitantly as it shooed me through the door. | It didn't occur to me what it was at first. Maybe the generators vibrating or rocks falling onto the roof. The second time I realized; there was someone at the door.
Dropping my lukewarm coffee on the floor, my head snapped towards the large steel door 10 meters to my left. Silence.
Three knocks this time, louder, more impatient. Whoever it was knew I was in here, and they wanted to join me. My mind started conjuring and dismissing ideas of who, or what, could be trying to gain entry. Aliens? No. Mars couldn't feasibly support complex life. Besides, I would be the alien in this scenario. It must be a human, or something created by a human. But who? Did some survive the war? Perhaps it's one of the new androids? There was no one else on mars, to my knowledge.
Calming myself I stood up from my desk, and walked slowly and deliberately to the circular window in the steel door. It was possible to see outside through the pressurization lock, so I took care not to be visible from the window. Reaching the door, there were four more knocks, louder, almost desperate this time.
The small monitor to the right of the door showed a single space suit standing outside the outer door. The sun was low on the horizon and behind the suit, limiting visibility. It was quickly but errantly shifting its upper body, seemingly to change its gaze between the window and the camera looking down on it from the left. It stared into the camera and waved.
I ran through the possibilities. Worst case scenario whatever was out there intended to do me harm. More likely, a human looking for refuge. Maybe it's a woman... After weighing the guilt I would feel should I deny life saving refuge against my odds of being able to defend myself against a single assailant, I decided I would let them in. It was half loneliness, half horniness, but I made sure I factored in the unused but hopefully functional ion propulsion rifle to my right.
I spoke clearly through the intercom; "stand by, I'll disengage the outer lock". There was instant joyful movement in the suit, its arms flailing pointlessly while bobbing up and down in apparent celebration.
After the few seconds it took for the door to disengage and open, the suit stepped inside, the door slowly closing behind it. "Pressurizing lock". The now rare to my ears hiss of the cabin pressurizing bore down on me, prompting the realization that I could soon be speaking to the first human I've seen in 25 years. My mind was racing. The loneliness had nearly killed me in my first years here, and I had had to come to terms with the fact that I would die without ever seeing another face or speaking to another person. That I would never again sleep next to someone... The only thing keeping me going was the increasingly small chance of making contact with another person. It was a situation I had played in my mind countless times. I expected perhaps finding a radio broadcast or something on the sub-net. To have a person standing barely 4 meters away, it was overwhelming. I felt tears trickling down both sides of my face, an overwhelming sense of relief creeping through now shaking my body.
The hiss slowed, then stopped, then came the first words I'd heard spoken to me in 25 years.
"Matt Damon".
What?
"Matt Damon".
No.
The inside door had opened, and in stepped the suit. Bringing his arms up to his helmet he awkwardly twisted it to one side, then slowly pulled it upwards, revealing his face.
"MATT. DAMON". | 2018-03-05T07:14:27 | 2018-03-05T05:46:03 | 73 | 13 |
[WP] A girl becomes pen pals with a demon prince when she accidentally intercepts one of his magic scrolls. They carry on correspondence for years, confessing their secrets & dreams to each other. One day, the prince, soon to be king, sends the girl, now a woman, a final scroll: a marriage proposal.
Boy/princess responses are also welcomed. | I shuffled my papers. "This clause about the owning of souls is completely absurd."
Archaeoblix grinned. "Ah, you read that bit. I thought you would."
"And the bit in invisible ink? About ten thousand years in the lower planes sf hell? Not happening babe."
"How about the bit about-"
"-Devouring my unborn child? That would also be *your* unborn child, so that would be inadvisable."
"It's just a tradition. While we're at it, I noticed you snuck something into your side about me doing laundry for all eternity."
"I can't stand the folding!"
"We'll have a servant do it. And the bit about daily foot rubs until time dies?"
"...Yes?"
He smiled. "We'll leave that one in." | Tears welled up in his eyes. He never thought this day would come! Who would have thought a boy like Raven would one day marry the Demon prince, Vinzty. He dropped the letter and shouted “Iyt tu-rzno” in his best Demonic tongue, which roughly translates to “I do.” The letter combusted, and the adorable groom-to-be seemed to evaporate.
In a burst of flames, Raven found himself in the largest room he had ever seen. With black walls, chandeliers lit with purple fire, and two thrones in the back, Raven couldn’t help but smile. In a burst of green and purple flames, the demon prince arrived. As if they were already there, the room was suddenly filled with pews of demons of all colors and knights in blue armor.
Raven’s clothing was changed into a beautiful dress made of purple flames. He couldn’t help but stand there astonished, but he soon realized they were waiting for him to come stand with his groom. He walked towards the smiling demon, as the knights on both sides on him saluted, swords in hands. It was a little weird being the only person with clothing on, but Raven didn’t mind too much.
Vinzty was smaller than Raven. He had brown hair that raised up into flames, and he had purple eyes and green skin. They greeted each other with a long kiss, as the crowd howled and awed. Raven finally got his happy-ever-after.
(If you actually read this, please assassinate me.) | 2018-05-07T00:38:21 | 2018-05-06T23:39:22 | 114 | 24 |
[WP] After you die, you're handed a book about your life. You open it, expecting a novel. Instead you get a "Choose your own adventure" book with all of the decisions you ever made, and every outcome they could have had. | I had fun reading the book until I got to page 428.
I mean, my life was pretty great. I married Jodie, the love of my life. We had three beautiful children that I loved with all my heart. I got to meet my grandchildren, and even one great-grandbaby before I passed away at the ripe old age of 92.
But then I turned to page 428:
*"Maybe we should see a doctor," you say. "We've been trying for a year, Jodie, and nothing. Nothing at all."*
*"No, no, let's just try a little longer," she says, pulling me into a kiss. "I've been drinking this herbal tea. It's supposed to make me more fertile."*
*Do you go to a doctor? Turn to page 537.*
*Or do you listen to Jodie and leave it alone? Turn to page 619.*
In real life, I'd chosen the second option -- and a few weeks later, Jodie was pregnant with our first child, Michael. Curious what the other option led to, I flipped to page 537.
*You walk into the doctor's office. "Have a seat," he says, his face grim. "David... we got the test results back."*
*"What do they say?" you ask, feeling your stomach tighten with worry.*
*He puts a hand on your shoulder. "I'm so sorry. You're sterile. There's no way you will ever have children of your own."*
*You drive home, miserable. When you walk in the house, you feel the tears burning the corners of your eyes. Jodie, however, is beaming with joy. "Guess what?!" she says, leaping into your arms. "I'm pregnant!"*
The book falls out of my hands and clatters to the floor.
r/blairdaniels | A dark room. A pedestal in the middle, illuminated by a pillar of light, upon which sat a thick book, pages uneven and frayed at parts.
As I took it into my worn hands, I could feel the density of it. The importance. All of the sadness, the fear, the excitement, anxiety, joy, love, ambition, heartache, fulfillment, failure... This was me.
Fingering the spine with one hand and the edges of the pages with the other, I closed my eyes, and opened to a random page.
Child. Love. Graduation. Immense joy.
To another page.
Pride. Overcoming. Achievement.
Another.
Misfortune. Selfishness. Greed. Passion.
I opened my eyes. The pages wordless. All of them. I turned to the first page.
Emptiness. Stillness.
This was the beginning. I understood. I thumbed a part of the page where I thought I might find her. The one beside me who never made it out. Never saw light, felt the coldness of the world. Never experienced love, grief, joy... I focused on her. I saw her. She was radiant. Beautiful. We had the same eyes.
I turned ahead.
There she was. She was so pure, innocent. Even at a young age, she emanated compassion and kindness.
I flipped to around the halfway mark.
She was a scientist. No, a philanthropist. No, a political activist. No... she was all of it.
I turned several pages more.
Peace. So much happiness. Not only within her, but wherever she went. Pure, innocent. Joy.
She was good. The world was good because of her. Not better. Good.
It was then that I knew that she was the key to bringing the world together. If only she had been born... How many others had this happened to? How better off could the world be...?
I could at least help.
I closed the book, laying it gently back down onto the pedestal. I looked up to the source of the light. Its warmth flooded over me. I knew that I could bask in it forever if I chose to.
Instead, I gazed one last time at the book, as I backed into the shadows from where I had entered this room.
The world needs Her.
And I was unborn, She in my place. | 2018-07-03T23:46:35 | 2018-07-03T23:38:29 | 2,218 | 138 |
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