prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] Write a short story about the nicest, humblest person in the world. Then make them the most fucked up person in the world in the last sentence. | One more, I must save one more , he exclaimed from his death bed. He’d spent his entire fortune saving lives and on his death bed 122 was not enough he wanted to save 123.
His assistant rushed in the room , there’s a child in Mississippi who can’t afford a heart procedure that...
Say no more pay it in full! Said the man as he closed his eyes for good.
He then stood in front of god
123 lives
Yea sir
The pleasure you took is what makes this decision easy
sir
The joy those 123 lives gave you
But sir
I can’t let you in
But sir you see , to make up for it, I also SAVED 123 lives | Johnny Demoise was probably the nicest person I have ever met. He woke up everyday and made me breakfast, as well as the whole neighborhood. He was the type of guy you always wanted to be around. He made you smile when you were sad, and was always completly understanding of your emotions. He was never overbearing about how nice he was, and always acted like a normal man. Johnny Demoise is who you want to be, and who you want your kids to be. If the entire world was made of Johnny Demoise's, I dont think anyone would ever die.
So this Tuesday, I woke up, as usual to delicious breakfast from Johhny Demoise. Pancakes and eggs with a hint of what tasted like chopped almonds. I wonder how he makes time in his day to be this amazing. I wonder what his motives are. Why he is the way he is. I wonder why we cant all be this way. Is it possible? It was an interesting question from a physciological point of view. Could we all be this great? I wonder. I took another bite of the pancakes, a little bitter tasting. Well, I guess everyone cant be perfect. I found a shriveled up piece of paper in my pancake. The hell is up with Johnny today.
>Cyanide, motherfuckers. | 2018-09-20T11:50:27 | 2018-09-20T11:32:49 | 32 | 21 |
[WP] As a prank, you ordered something off the menu in a restaurant. Unbeknownst to you, the place is actually a front and you have just identified yourself as a top level agent. | "I'll have a hamburger", I stated to the waitress, smirking slightly.
It was my friend Eric's idea. We both had a long day at work, and needed to blow off some steam before going home to our respective families. While we daily partake of the cliché activity of grabbing a beer at the closest bar, today's overtime demanded food for our grumbling stomachs.
On my way home every day from work, I pass through the "bad part of town," but couldn't help noticing that a run-down Italian restaurant wriggled to life among the ruins of fallen consumer stores. I had suggested this place to Eric, and he immediately grasped onto the idea of pulling one of his despised-by-everyone bad jokes. A quick laugh by the two of us would be a good start to relieving the day's burden.
The waitress immediately retreated to the kitchen, stone-faced shock paralyzing her face. Eric struggled to hold back his laughter, allowing the occasional chuckle to seep through. I shook my head and pointed out that she had forgotten to take his order, let alone the alcohol we typically whet our taste buds with on a daily basis.
A gruff gentleman had burst through the kitchen door, carrying a black briefcase, which was promptly placed before me. As the latches popped open, Eric blurted out, "That was fast," and was immediately put to rest by a smoking gun from the waitress, who was standing beside the man. Before I could react, the briefcase popped open, and I was enveloped by a glowing neon green gas.
The darkness was soothing. I was just about to start dreaming when I awoke to cold, wet, washcloth wiping my face. "<Agent ID 65536, TOP CLEARANCE Granted>," a computerized voice echoed within the white room. The woman wiping my face, wait- it is a robot wiping my face; her upper half was distinctly human, yet her torso blended into polished steel plating and wiring connecting her to a moving base scooting along the floor. She had quickly rolled away and disappeared behind a sliding door hidden within the wall.
I look around frantically and state, "It...it was just a joke! I just want to go home!" Before I could continue, I heard a repeated, "<EJECT>" voice as a familiar green gas filled the room. The coming darkness would free me from my panic.
I came to sitting at the dining room table at home, my face had apparently fallen into a plate of spaghetti. My wife had stated that I had blacked out in the middle of discussing our finances, while my two kids stared at me as I patted the spaghetti sauce from my nose. As I composed myself, my brain constructed fragments to explain what had happened. I surmised that the stress of work caused me to enter a state of delusion, and not coming back to reality until my brain had overloaded and caused me to black out. I took a deep breath and went to bed early.
Eric was not at work the following day. | We walk toward the restaurant. It was a diner known for their good food, and well hospitality. Being up in Calgary, Canada, I turn on my phone and ask Siri what the weather is, despite knowing it's quite cool out. She says in response, "It's partly sunny with it being 4 Celsius,". So after that, we walk into the diner with my friend Tony ordering a salmon, and being here for years, I looked at the menu, and said "Do you have the Marmaduke? It was my favorite burger here at Anna's Restaurant," , and the lady at the counter said, "We don't have that burger on our menu anymore, but I'll make sure you'll have it Ryan, because you are our loyal customer,".
"Weird," I said to my friend Tony. "What's up with them removing the Marmaduke from the menu? It was my favorite burger. Well, I'm still glad they're making it for me,". My friend looked at me and said "You do know that Alice's Restaurant doesn't even have that burger? It's the restaurant down a few blocks, Anna's Restaurant that has it,". I look at my friend inquisitively, and weirdly noticing that he was right. Suddenly, the waiter came over and she said "Here you go. One Marmaduke burger," and it looked exactly the same as it would at Anna's. It's almost like they knew I'd order it ... but how? Unless we are in Anna's, and my friend Tony is pulling a prank on me. I know it's not Alice's. Or else I will be following a rabbit hole, which I certainty do not want to get into one. Good lord, do I have to literally live the movie as well?
I request the waiter to come back. Stupid move, I know, but I want to know her name. She said "Anna. I am the owner of the restaurant down a few blocks, and knew you were coming. I know how much you love that burger. Everyone tells me that the Marmaduke is our best selling burger, and you always come and get it every weekend. That's how I know who you are Ryan. It's no mystery. You are our loyal customer. Oh, and before you ask, your friend Tony informed me that you were coming here so I wanted to surprise you,". I look at her strangely, and then said "Well it's true, and Tony told you?" I asked while looking at him. "Anyways, I thought there was a movie named Marmaduke? It had a dog in it I believe? That's not important though,".
I ate the Marmaduke, tasting it's lettuce, cheese, onions, tomatoes, beef, ketchup, and ranch that goes on it. It was an extraordinary burger like usual. Just the way I like it. I go up and fill my cup with Coca-Cola Cherry and I sit back down and drink it. I tell Tony, "This is good," with me realizing he had no food still. Suddenly, Anna comes out of the kitchen and delivers him his food, which was the salmon he asked for. It looked delicious, and I got up, and went to the restroom. Suddenly, I felt a hand behind me and Anna said, "Come with us. You'll have to leave Tony behind. It's something sinister. It revolves around this revolver we found in the kitchen. You were trained as a Forensic Scientist to be able to identify this, are you not?". I tell Anna I have to use the restroom, which I do and afterwards, I leave through the kitchen, and a few minutes later, Tony texts me: "Yo, where you at? I can't just pay this myself,". I respond with "No problem, it's on the house. Anna took care of it. I have to go,". | 2019-01-22T11:36:40 | 2019-01-22T08:15:54 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?" | "What?"
"I asked what the downside is."
"I've just told you."
"No you haven't."
"Yes, I have."
"Did not!"
"Did so!"
"Then why don't I remember?"
My ears seemed to fill with cotton, and I grew dizzy as she spoke once more.
"That ought to teach you lesson."
I blinked. "Sorry what was the curse again?"
The woman unleashed an ear rending shriek and slammed the door in my face.
"Ah kay then." I spun and walked out toward the gate. A sudden flash of deja-vu struck me as I touched the handle.
Oh yeah, I meant to ask her something.
I turned around once more, and knocked on the door. | The woman stood in my doorway, looking aghast. "You have NO sugar?" She demands, having just requested a cup.
&#x200B;
I shrug. I'm on a diet. "I have some granular sugar replacement." I offer. The woman's beautiful face melts away into an old and warty visage. She points a gnarled finger at me.
&#x200B;
Fuck, a witch. I thought I lived in a better neighborhood...
&#x200B;
"You will never feel love or attraction to another person again!" The witch said, the smile on her face as nasty as her crooked teeth.
&#x200B;
I blinked. Waited. Waited some more.
&#x200B;
"So... what was the downside again?"
&#x200B;
The witch paused and looked confused. "You will never feel love or attraction to another human again?" This time it was a question.
&#x200B;
"Bitch, I was already asexual."
&#x200B;
I'm not sure what annoyed me more. Having to meet my neighbor or having to explain asexuality for the billionth time.
&#x200B;
Alternatively: "Bitch, I'm a furry." | 2019-06-25T12:10:56 | 2019-06-25T09:48:32 | 76 | 54 |
[WP] You are a retired super soldier of the future, genetically bred for war and mechanically enhanced for any contingency. With the war over, you have managed to raise a family in peace and quiet, until something about your partner sets off alarms you haven't heard in almost a decade. | I love Suzy, I love her very much. I took her in as a drug addict, cleaned her up and she became the kindest, most compassionate and intelligent fiancé you could wish for. I could talk with her about anything: my joys; my fears; my wish to start a family; and my warmongering past.
But today I doubted everything. She was more on her phone than with me, the whole day she kept babbling with some *guy*. My ears could pick out the conversations through walls and they shocked me:
"He isn't himself anymore."
"He is cold."
"I need some *help* with *some things*"
The last one infuriated me, so much something inside me clicked and I, stone cold, activated my hand's subdermal firing mechanism and shot a clean bullet hole from the bottom floor couch to the second story bedroom. I heard her let out a short yelp and a hiss of a burning battery.
I blanked out, the thought of attacking my loved one intertwined with jealousy canceled each other out. Silenty, she walked down the stairs and entered the living room. She had small pieces of her smartphone's screen and backplate embedded in her cheek and hand and her thighs were burned by the battery. Her eyes watered as she spoke in an understanding tone:
"That was my therapist. The one you suggested to help me deal with withdrawal and shame."
Shame. I feel so much shame.
"He was checking up on me. And sent me a link to a young, but eager doctor who had agreed to take out your wiring."
So, much shame.
"You've helped me. Let me help you."
So, so much love. | *Chick-a-dee-dee-dee. Chick-a-dee-dee.*
The first birds of the morning are stirring in the predawn light that filters through the spruces. I can tell their locations without looking -- a tufted titmouse in the white pine at four o'clock, a northern cardinal in the fir at seven o'clock, a few common yellowthroats picking through the blueberries in front of me. And of course, the black-capped chickadee singing happily on the blue spruce's bough.
Our breath rises in warm plumes through the thin morning mist, visible even to my unenhanced eye. Jake rests his hand on my thigh.
"Life is good today," he murmurs.
*Chick-a-dee-dee-dee. Chick-a-dee-dee.*
I start involuntarily, shaking off his hand. I'm overcome by a sudden, overwhelming sense of deja vu -- of having been in this exact place, this exact time, somehow before.
"Is anything wrong?" Jake's concerned voice asks. His piercing brown eye is soft with sudden worry, and I know his optical suite is scanning me for any deviance from baseline.
"No, I'm fine," I say, forcing a smile. I'm shaken, but my memory files are exhaustive; this experience is new. I lean back again, and focus on the cool Maine breeze to restore my composure. Life really is good today, I reflect; maybe even after all this time, I'm just not used to that.
*Chick-a-dee-dee-dee. Chick-a-dee-dee.*
‐----‐‐---‐-----------‐------------------------------‐---------------------‐
"What the hell was that, Koenikker?"
"Looks like some kind of dormant memory, sir. The loop--"
"I thought you said you wiped his implants. He's not supposed to remember a thing."
"Yes, well, if it encodes in the organic brain, the memory can leave echoes. I don't think we can repeat the VR loop much more without causing significant stress."
"Pity. If anybody deserved a sweet dream, it's this guy. Well, after this repetition end the loop. Guess his stasis'll have to be dreamless -- but things going like they are, at least it won't be too long." | 2019-09-16T08:00:43 | 2019-09-16T04:54:42 | 34 | 10 |
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room. | There she was. I'd given up hope. Now, with scarcely enough energy to breathe, I saw her. With most of my remaining strength, I got out of bed and leaned on my walker. With IV in tow, I followed her, and she went straight to the elevator bank.
I made it into the same car as her as the door closed and let her choose the floor. She pressed 4, and I nodded. *Heading the same way," I said.
"I thought so," she replied.
The door opened to the maternity ward. Nurses and doctors hustled about. The faint cries of newborns were coming out of some of the rooms.
I followed her as best I could to a heavy door marked "Authorized Personnel Only." She used a fingerprint scanner to open the door, then held it for me.
Two doctors waited for me on the other side, smiling pleasantly.
"We've been expecting you Mr. Stoneman," one said.
"We haven't seen you in some time."
"It's been , what, ninety-eight years?" the other added.
They brought me to a bed, and I collapsed on it. The exertion of the past 10 minutes had used what little energy I had left. Slowly, I began to doze into the most peaceful slumber of my life. A light appeared, warm and inviting. I knew what it was for, and I went to it.
It was deliciously relaxing; I felt warm, safe and loved. The light got brighter and brighter, and I felt like I was being squeezed. I heard shrieks of pain and shouts of encouragement. Then I felt like I had been expelled from something, and I was cold, even though the light was brighter. Someone smacked my bottom and I cried harder than I did when my Dorothy passed 10 years ago.
I heard voices, everyone seemed happy. I was horribly confused and a little frightened.
Then the person who slapped me held me up and said, "Congratulations, Mrs. Stoneman, here is your healthy baby boy." | 98 years without a hint of the red dress the voice spoke of.
9.8 y.e.a.r.s
Ever since I could remember, this nagging voice occasionally came into my life and whispered the same thing.
"Follow the women..."
At first I was curious. Who was this women? Why was there a voice that spoke to me? My parents dismissed it as hallucinations, but the older I grew the more convinced I was that it wasn't. It felt so real, more real than anything else in the world.
Then I was annoyed. 30, 40, 50 years pass and yet nothing has ever happened. Not a single hint of the "prophecy" coming true. Every free moment of my life I spend wondering if those voices were real, and as time passes my doubt grows bigger and bigger.
Maybe I was hallucinating after all.
Now I'm furious. Furious at the 98 years of wondering. Furious at the 98 years wasted, thinking there was a grander scheme of things for my mundane life. How conceited I was to think that my life was going to be for some higher purpose? Even as I lie on my hospital bed with my days numbered, I can't help but wonder if that lady would come by one day and take me away..
98 days and 364 days.
Tomorrow was supposed to my 99th birthday. As I lay on my bed and wait for the end of my life, a bright red dress caught my attention from the corner of my eye.
A crimson, so vivid you could see the flames emanating from the glorious cloth. Lined with golden polka dots that looked fitting for the grandest of Kings of the olden days. The lady, oh that lady! So stunningly gorgeous yet upright. So confident, yet she had a humble demeanor. She gave my room a brief look before walking away.
That's it! That's definitely it! I mustered all my strength and sat up from my seat. With all the energy pent up in me, I grabbed my walking cane and lumbered laboriously at her. I followed her all the way up to the roof top, where she was waiting patiently for me.
"Have you had a good life, my child?" She quizzed
"I.. I reckon so. I've.. I've lived a long life. Who are you?" I stammered, partly realizing how this moment was the culmination of my entire life's existence, or just simply at the regal beauty this lady exuded.
"I, my darling, am known as the Tascha the Phoenix. Are you ready to reset? We're counting on you in your next life"
*Was about to sleep but saw this. Hopefully it's not horrendous LOL | 2019-11-07T09:24:52 | 2019-11-07T08:52:01 | 50 | 11 |
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room. | There she was. I'd given up hope. Now, with scarcely enough energy to breathe, I saw her. With most of my remaining strength, I got out of bed and leaned on my walker. With IV in tow, I followed her, and she went straight to the elevator bank.
I made it into the same car as her as the door closed and let her choose the floor. She pressed 4, and I nodded. *Heading the same way," I said.
"I thought so," she replied.
The door opened to the maternity ward. Nurses and doctors hustled about. The faint cries of newborns were coming out of some of the rooms.
I followed her as best I could to a heavy door marked "Authorized Personnel Only." She used a fingerprint scanner to open the door, then held it for me.
Two doctors waited for me on the other side, smiling pleasantly.
"We've been expecting you Mr. Stoneman," one said.
"We haven't seen you in some time."
"It's been , what, ninety-eight years?" the other added.
They brought me to a bed, and I collapsed on it. The exertion of the past 10 minutes had used what little energy I had left. Slowly, I began to doze into the most peaceful slumber of my life. A light appeared, warm and inviting. I knew what it was for, and I went to it.
It was deliciously relaxing; I felt warm, safe and loved. The light got brighter and brighter, and I felt like I was being squeezed. I heard shrieks of pain and shouts of encouragement. Then I felt like I had been expelled from something, and I was cold, even though the light was brighter. Someone smacked my bottom and I cried harder than I did when my Dorothy passed 10 years ago.
I heard voices, everyone seemed happy. I was horribly confused and a little frightened.
Then the person who slapped me held me up and said, "Congratulations, Mrs. Stoneman, here is your healthy baby boy." | Everything fell out of focus. The beeping on the monitor sounded very far away. I got up out of bed slowly, feeling much lighter than before. The floor was cold beneath my feet. I pulled the tape off my arm and removed the IV. It didn't matter anyway. I knew I was on borrowed time. I had lived a good life. It just couldn't end without knowing.
I followed her down the hallway. She was very graceful. I felt a strong yearning to see her face, but she didn't turn around. I followed her through several corridors to a wide-open lobby. I was distracted by a room in the far corner. It seemed to glow with a strange light. It looked warm and welcoming.
The hall the woman turned down was dingier, ordinary with fluorescent hospital lighting.
I didn't want to turn away from the room but the need to follow her was so strong.
At the end of the hall she turned into another room. An old woman was laying in the bed there. She felt familiar to me. She wore a gold locket. It looked odd and ornate against her hospital gown. The woman in the red dress whispered something to her and took her hand. She pulled up a chair and sat down. She wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. "Mom," she said. "I'm here." The old woman didn't open her eyes.
I backed out of the room quietly, hoping she wouldn't see me. I was dizzy and so tired. I felt like a fool. All of these years wondering, and it was just a coincidence. Just a woman trying to spend a few last moments with her dying mother. Who was I? What would I accomplish by denying my family the same goodbye, here wandering the halls without any thought to whether I had the strength to make it back?
I didn't.
I went into the nearest room to rest. It looked like a delivery ward, but it was empty. Surely the doctors and nurses wouldn't mind if I were to just lie down for a bit here.
I drifted off to sleep.
I awoke to sounds of shouting as they wheeled in a woman in labor. I closed the curtain so I wouldn't be in the way. I was still so very tired. Their voices faded and I closed my eyes.
The birth was a success. The nurse cleaned up the baby and handed her to her mother. "Congratulations!" she said. "It's a girl!"
The baby looked up with wide eyes, following the patterns of light that glinted off of her mother's locket. The sunlight reflected off of the bright red curtains in spots of gold. | 2019-11-07T09:24:52 | 2019-11-07T09:13:01 | 50 | 10 |
[WP] To fight overpopulation, it has been decided that every first name must be unique. All those who carry the same name shall fight to death. | **“A Dance of Daniels”**
The man with the fiery red hair raced across the open field, knowing it was suicide to linger too long. He was right. One shot rang out overhead, and then another right on its tail. He dropped like a sack. Using his knees and elbows, and keeping below the tops of the tall grass, he scrambled to the tree line and took cover behind a thick log.
He paused for breath, and that was his mistake.
“Freeze,” said a deep baritone voice. The Daniel was tall, broad, and hardened.
“Wait, don’t shoot – please,” the man said, “I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not one of you. I’m Craig.”
The Daniel eyed him. “The Craigs were all wiped out. I watched the award ceremony on TV.”
“Then you watched me.”
“Impossible,” the Daniel said. “That couldn’t have been you. If you survived the Clash of the Craigs, you’d have to be one mean son-of-a-bitch. Not some cowering little wimp—”
*BANG.* Those were the last words the Daniel managed to speak before Craig blew a hole through his chest.
“Sorry, Daniel. It was you or me.”
Craig got to his feet and tucked his hidden pistol back into his shirt sleeve. He looted the Daniel for everything he had: ammo, a hunting knife, some food, lighter fluid.
In 2019 there were 1,617,877 people named Daniel in the United States. The Dance of Daniels was the largest battle royale yet. It had already been going for three weeks, and Craig had survived with the same tactic that’d kept him alive before: patience. Only this time, he couldn’t understand why he was here.
Craig made his way back to his treetop perch, climbed under his brush-covered tarp, and ate a can of cold baked beans. He was not, nor had ever been, a Daniel. There must’ve been a mistake, he had thought. Surely they would realize their error, he reasoned, in those first few days.
However, eventually it became clear that the government – be it from ignorance or apathy – had no intention of fixing their mistake. His only way to survive would be to wipe every last Daniel from the face of the Earth.
So that’s exactly what Craig would do. | My name is India Smith, I live in a small town named Brighton Nebraska. My parents thought that the B.F.O. (Bureau of Federal Overpopulation) wouldn't bat an eye at my name, our town only has 200 people, it shouldn't matter right?
My parents are traditional, they were born in the early 2000s, before the oversize happened. All of their friends named their children long strings of numbers, they wanted mine to be somewhat normal.
But even though they believed I would be safe, they trained me since I could hold a gun. It's the only weapon the B.F.O. will allow. My dreams of becoming a doctor always hidden behind putting steel in a dummies head.
In 2045 the oversize happened, it first started in China, but gradually spread across the world. Too many people. We started lossing oil and electricity, but most of all, water.
There were many radical ideas on how to bring about change, mass murders, bombing, full war blew out. It was clear that no one would survive with the way weapons were in that age.
But the Dictator of what was still left of the re-established Soviet union, his name was Michael Yoyanov, he invited that we give every one a fighting chance. And his idea seemed cruel, but it worked. Members of all countries were given lists of people with the same name as them, they must kill all the others. If even two people stood by the end of the that had the same name, they were all killed.
And it cruelly worked, the world population went from 16 billion to 7 billion in 2046. But even after the wars, the kept the law standing to ensure that another oversize would never happen again.
Once you reach 16 you are required to kill all other people with your name. I'm 16 now. And there is one other India left in the world. He has been alerted of me, and he knows what I look like. I wonder if he will feel any remorse about killing a 16 year old girl who has lived barely a life.
I hate my parents for giving me such a 'common' name, But I still love them, because they just wanted what was best for me.
I know that the other India is in Brighton, the B.F.O. give all the players trackers I wonder how this small town will react to a death match. And how/if they will honor me.
I know I'm going to die, I could never end anothers life. To see their breathing stop, and know it was my doing.
So I turn on my favorite music, slip away from my crying and apologizing parents, and lock the door to my room. The music almost drowns out my parents banging on the door, and it almost drowns the sound of the bullet.
I hope we will move away from this barbaric way, but I will never know.
Goodbye. | 2019-11-14T19:26:21 | 2019-11-14T18:32:50 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] People do not get weaker and more frail as they age - they get stronger and stronger. "Dying of old age" is when groups of young people band together to kill off their elders before they become too strong to defeat. | Dear Mr Smith-White
&#x200B;
Congratulations on your 100th birthday. I am so happy to hear you've reached this venerable age, including escaping various traps lain by your nephews, a gang of youths with knives last Tuesday, and a rudimentary car-bomb the other week.
Yes, i have been watching you. I have been watching all my rivals.
You see, you may think you have now reached the point that the young can no longer destroy you. And you would be right. But did you never think as to why the elderly don't simply rule outright? Why we don't shatter nations before us?
It's because first you have to get past me.
Enclosed are first-class tickets to London, where you will receive a free royal escort to the palace. Don't worry, there are no tricks. My guard will be dismissed for the occasion- as I'm sure you've guessed, they're mostly ceremonial anyway. We will fight, one on one, to the death, as I have fought (and defeated) every centenarian in this nation to this day.
Please don't miss our meeting, I much prefer a civil duel to the mess and annoyance of a prolonged hunt.
Happy birthday, and congratulations again.
HRM, Queen Elizabeth II | "After 40 years of service, losing and regrowing limbs 7 times, and capturing 4 high class oldies, its finally time to kill me." Said a man who looked to be in his early 60's.
"Sad to say, but yes, your time has come, so we will make this your last mission, please die, and make this easy on us". Said a female voice.
"You know I always wondered why those old guys were so evil. Turns out most of them worked here, and they probably has the same situation come up. Most of them agreed, but some left, only to be killed later by us. It makes sense too, no one wants to die, atleast I know I don't, so sadly I won't be able to complete this mission."
"That truly is sad, but you have no choice, even if you leave, you'll only be chased dowluke the rest. Is that the life you want to live."
"At least I get to live, but don't worry I won't cause problems, might go to Jupiter, I heard your starting a new colony there."
The room stayed silent for a while after that, then footsteps could be heard down the hall.
"Well I don't feel like killing today, so I apologize about the wall." He then proceeds to jump and punch the ceiling of the room, causing a large hole to appear, letting the sunlight shine through.
Armed guards bust into the room right after this happens for the leader to say one word, "Fire!", filling the room with noise, and bright lights.
When the lasers hit the man thought, they bounced off into different directions, until he jumped out of the room fast enough for the air to push all of the guards down.
"Ciao", said the man before flying into the sky at an astonishing pace.
"F***, another one!", yelled the female voice before saying, "Back to your posts, and tell this to no one."
After sating this the guards left the room in a hurry, only the sound of footsteps could be heard. | 2020-01-21T08:23:19 | 2020-01-21T07:32:18 | 2,565 | 40 |
[WP] Being a villain doesn't always pay, especially when the hero keeps foiling your plan. To fund your villainy, you work in retail customer service. One day, the hero walks in. He recognizes you, you recognize him. | "I have seen you build a laser that harnessed the power of the sun, aren't you a little more qualified then this? I'm not judging or anything, just seems you could do a lot better than a toystore." Mr. Zoomer seemed to find this encounter a lot more awkward than his supervillain counterpart, which was hardly surprising. It wasn't exactly an ego boost to see the man who had kicked your ass on numerous occasions dressed in a scruffy panda suit seeing toys.
"I'm... in a bit of a rough patch at the moment, I have six degrees, SIX, but I can't land a job-"
"Because of the villainy?" Zoomer interrupted.
"No, I wish it was because of the villainy, A lot of people are happy to overlook that part of my resume, something about equal rights and discrimination? No, It's the fact I threaten to kill the interviewers when they grill me on my qualifications. I only landed this job because the owner was just glad to have someone who was honest and also passed the working around children check. Look.... It's a low point ok? I'm not really proud of this, I think mum and dad would have wanted a lot more from me than this. Do you mind keeping this between us? I will offer you a fidget spinner? We have been trying to get rid of them for months, the owner ordered heaps when they were in and now we can't get rid of them, apparently they aren't cool anymore, I can relate to that a bit."
"Oh, I won't tell anyone, You know, Maybe I could help you update your resume or find a position. I know you try to kill me and all that, but I don't like seeing you so unhappy Doomclock, It just bums me out. You are so much better than this. Here, let me give you my number, Call me and I'll help you prepare for a job interview." Zoomer pulled out a pen from his pocket, ready to write his number down on one of his hero business cards, only getting stopped by the villain.
"I know where you live, do you really think I don't know your number?" The villain said with an awkward chuckle. "But thanks, I'll take you up on that. We can't do it Wednesday though, I was planning to grow some sort of flying dinosaur, you know that one that starts with a P?"
"A Pherotydal?"
"Yeah that's the one, I was going to grow one of those and ram it through your window, so Wednesday is a no go. Maybe we could do Friday? After I escape from prison again."
"...." Zoomer let out a sigh, wondering how he was going to explain this to his insurance. Did they even cover acts of dinosaur? "Yeah... whatever Friday works."
"So anyway what are you here for? Looking for a present for a relative or something? It's your nieces five birthday soon right? I hear the new Queen fire hero figure is selling pretty well, maybe you can get her that."
"Why do you know my nieces.... nevermind.... No, actually I was wondering..." Zoomer glanced left and right, making sure no one was listening before he leaned closer to the villain. "Do you have any of my new figures? The limited-edition one you can't get online?"
"You want a figure of yourself? You know playing with yourself is rather unhealthy" The villain chuckled before leaving his desk, only to return with the figure in its full limited edition glory. "I had one at the back that I was holding for.... someone else." The villain wasn't exactly going to admit he had been collecting figures as well. "Oh, I was I could tell the other villains about this, but since you are helping me out with my troubles, I guess I can keep this a secret as well."
"Thanks... I appreciate it." Zoomer gave him a smile, purchasing the toy before giving his foe a wave as he left.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} | "Hello Dan," I said to him. He was evidently the same guy who had nearly killed me yesterday, but that didn't matter much since I could see he didn't have any weapons on him. And for once he was thankfully out of his ridiculous outfit. He actually looked pretty ... nevermind I had to focus on acting normal. If he suspected me even a tiny bit I was sure he would use his lazar beams to fry me up.
"Ahhh... no way, why are you here?" he asked me. There was thankfully no one else in the store. He was carrying a bunch of grocery bags in his cart and I shook my head and motioned for him to hand me the stuff so I could scan it.
"In case you really need to know, I usually work in customer service, but since everyone is out sick today I'm on the cash register." I realize that it was the wrong thing to say because Dan's eyes narrowed. "No, I didn't poison them."
Dan finally sighs. "If you're not causing any trouble I guess I can't refuse." I can see that he's blushing though. And as I look into his cart I realize why. And I start to blush too. These were the novels I liked to read too. My eyes glanced over the newest book in a series I had been waiting to come out for at least a year.
"Wait so--" he said.
"No, I don't," I said. I looked back at him. I take the book and slam it on the cart without even scanning it, I didn't care anymore.
"What?" Dad asked me. "Wait, you read his books too?"
"Maybe," I said as I scanned his other items. There were so many books in here, a lot of which I recognized myself. I made an audible growl as I stumbled upon a book I did not have a good time reading. On one hand, I wanted him to suffer as he read it, it was addicting to read, but the ending was so terrible I had gone into depression for like a week.
It was basically what would happen if I tried to write a book with the specific intention to torture people. As I scan the other books and I can't help but wonder if I should tell him to not buy it.
It would save him weeks of his life, but then again I was his enemy. Why was it my job to help him avoid that landmine?
He puts several more things in front of me and I realize that it's a whole bunch of corny romance novels. Ones that I read. They were squished between two better well-known titles and I know he was blushing as he handed them towards me.
"I see you like reading this stuff," I said. I laughed and watched as his face flushed. But then he started laughing at me.
"You left a copy in your last base," he said, "so don't pretend like you don't read this stuff too."Now it was my face that turned red and I quickly scanned the other books in silence.
Next was a whole bunch of canned food, probably for the food shelter in town. I still remembered when my own parents took me there. I didn't realize that he donated...
"Something wrong?" he asked me. "I'm sorry if I was rude, I'll get out of here as soon as you finish scanning."
"No ... it's just," I said holding the canned food.
"Oh," he said, "I didn't know, I could buy you some if you like."
"No," I said. I quickly scanned the can and did the rest of his items. "I'm doing better now, that's why I have this job."
"So does this mean--" Dan said before I cut him off.
"No, I'm not giving be your villain, but I can agree to a truce for now," I said.
"Then maybe you could tell me later about what your reading," he said. I sighed.
"Why are we both so antisocial?"
"But we have each other," he said as he took the last of the bags and put it in his cart. He left out of the store before I could respond, his super-speed was annoying as ever. I sat back and took out the book I had discreetly slipped out of his book. I had left him with that awful read, but I had taken this truly awful one, I don't even know how he could have gotten past the first page with how awfully written it was.
The last thing I was him returning while I was still working. I gasped though as I looked at the title: "Is it too late for us to love?" Him and his stupid messages.
&#x200B;
Join r/NinjaMasterXY for more stories!
Edit: Grammer | 2020-04-24T20:19:48 | 2020-04-24T19:31:31 | 42 | 25 |
[WP] You’ve traveled a great distance to finally court the princess. Many others have tried and failed. Why? At the end of a week with her, you must duel her to the death. She is the greatest sword fighter in the land, so your only hope is to convince her to call off the fight. | I shook my head. "See thats the part that makes no sence to me. If i'm here to court you why would we fight to the death? If you win I die, if I win you die. Ether way the courtship was a waist of time."
"Oh wow." She said shocked. "That is really dumb." She pauses and turned to her father. "Why do we do the death fights? Would you rather me dead than with a man?"
He laughed shaking his head he responded, "I knew any man who willing fought you in a death match wasn't proper husband material, and I also knew no one stood a chance to your skill. The fight was a test to see if they had the brains to not do it."
We ended up having 25 children only losing 8 to disitery and 6 to scarlet fever. | “Princess, there is one last contestant who wishes to face you in trial!”
The princess looked up, carelessly tossing aside the bloodied rag she had been using to clean her blade. Behind her, a wooden cart dragging away the remains of the previous combatant. She gave the stranger a curious look, then shrugged it off, slowly striding up to him. Perhaps it was the long, dark robe, or the ragged fiber mask, certainly astray from the usual broad, shiny, heavy, and often restricting regalia worn by most nobles and princes with whom she had fought before. No, this man seemed humbler, almost frightened. This did not worry her, however; if the man’s attire was offsetting it was as much indicative of an untrained peasant or forest dweller. So she stepped up to him, raising her saber to a ready position.
“Draw thy blade, sir, and if thou taketh from me this blade and cut from my neck this stone thou shalt receive my inheritance and in marriage my service.”
The stranger reached deep into his cloak and pulled from it a worn, ragged straw doll, with eyes of dried berry and long, messily braided vine as hair. He spoke in a deep, but soft voice, which seemed at its sound to enact a brief flash of excitement in the princesses eye.
“Princess, I desire naught to fight...”
She looked at the doll for a moment, then cast it aside, and quickly thrust her blade to the stranger’s neck, barely breaking skin.
(Part two comin by tomorrow sometime >:3) | 2020-09-20T20:54:03 | 2020-09-20T20:45:52 | 41 | 21 |
[WP] A sniper and a photographer meet in a bar, neither aware of the other's occupation. They talk about 'how to take the perfect shot'. | "Hello there!" Says the photographer after ordering his drink. "What's the name, Mac?"
The hitman (pretty drunk) responds "Depends, whats the job? Is the client posh or poor? Need to blend in their environment, y'know? Can't be Baron Neil Whitefeild in the slums, can I?"
"I am not sure I understand, sir."
"I shoot for a living." He inhales sharply, he has said more than he should. He sighs when the photographer gives him a knowing glance.
"Oh... Well, I too, 'shoot' for a living. Indeed, it is best to blend into the crowd."
"Do you prefer long range, or short."
"Short, naturally. Long is best for the unsuspecting, but I enjoy short more. You can really capture their emotions this way."
'Huh. He is the kind of hitman that likes his job. Kinda creepy, but if you see death for as long as I have, you sort start enjoying its beauty too, I guess.' Thought the hitman.
"How long have you been in the business?"
"Turned pro 3 years back, but I shot my first much, much earlier."
'Poor guy, to have to have killed so early. Just like me, eh?'
"I have been a pro for nearly a decade now. Had a rough childhood or what?"
"Oh yes. I dont know how you could have told, but I grew up in the streets. Had to work my ass off for my first device."
"I have had quite the same experience, brother." Said the shooter, sipping his beer.
"Business has been down lately, hasn't it? I am struggling right now. Could you refer me to someone? You must have many connections, being in the business for so long."
The hitman thought for a while. He decided that he liked this kid.
"Tell you what. I have a job next Friday and there is room for an extra shooter. Like weddings, much?"
[Pretty new writer, plus idk shit about photography or sniping, so sorry if it's bad. Feedback is welcome.] | "The most important thing is to frame the shot perfectly" Jacob stated enthusiastically
"Yeah, I can agree with that in a sense, but staging and planning it is more important else the entire shot can be a bust" I said with a bit less enthusiasm than Jacob.
"I somewhat agree but everyone got their own way of doing it I guess. Always prefered to do my shoots on impulse and focus on the framing" Jacob said shrugging his shoulders.
I couldn't help but wonder what he was carrying in the padded bag he had. Looked like it was a camera bag, a bit to cliché for my liking but who am I judge walking around with what looked like a hiking bag.
"So tell me about some of your shots man, you must have some amazing ones" Jacob said nudging me.
"Well I shot Jeremy Griff a month or so a ago" I said matter a factly
"Griff? Like the media person Jeremy Griff?" Jacob said almost looking upset or down. But that must of been my imagination.
"Yeah, it was a tricky shot. Lots of trees, the car moving definitely didn't help either. But I think I got a good one in the end" I proudly said as it had been quite a difficult shot to make.
"He died not long ago, in his car. Hope the picture was worth the money" Jacob sorrowfully said
"What picture? I shot him, what the hell are you talking about?" I said looking at him in surprise.
"Photography, what else would I be talking about? I'm a photographer, wait what do you mean you shot him?!" Jacob said now with panic in his voice and eyes
"Ah, shit. I'm sorry Jacob, I thought you were like me. No hard feelings I hope" I say as I pull a knife hidden inside my sleeve and stab him in the heart making it look like a hug as Jacobs life drains from his eyes. I slowly lower him onto the table folding his hands under his head for support as if he's only asleep.
As I start to move away I decide to grab his bag, I guess I could use a new hobby. After all we had similar ideas for the perfect shot.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Just something that flashed through my mind, like what kind of conversation would a sniper and a photographer have in common that would be an imo funny missunderstanding. | 2020-11-05T05:44:44 | 2020-11-05T05:28:42 | 90 | 39 |
[WP] A sniper and a photographer meet in a bar, neither aware of the other's occupation. They talk about 'how to take the perfect shot'. | It was perhaps a strange thing that two strangers, both holding bulky bags, found themselves in the same corner of a crowded bar. But, they did always say that birds of a feather flocked together.
"You shoot for a living?" the man asked, gesturing towards his newfound companion's baggage, tucked neatly under the table.
"Hmm?" the woman replied. An eyebrow shot up. "Why else would I shoot?"
The man nodded towards the empty seat opposite the woman. The woman nodded as well, affirmative and curt.
The man set his drink down on the table, holding out his other.
"John," he said.
"Shelly," she said.
"Are you new to the area?" John asked. "I don't believe I've ever seen you around."
"Maybe. I move a lot for work," she said. Her drink remained in her hand, and she took small, periodic sips, enough to drain the glass in minutes. She looked around, waving for a waiter, who wordlessly took away her glass and replaced her beverage with a new one.
"Ah, you are the opposite of me, then," the man chuckled. "Never found opportunities to be lacking here, honestly. I just freelance here and there with different organizations, you know."
"Well," Shelly said. "You must be good at keeping incognito, then."
"The best," John winked. "Nobody needs to know when and where I came from. Just have to know that I get the job done, swift and easy-like."
Shelley had already finished another drink. The waiter came once again, and the drink was silently replenished once more.
"You are going through a lot of them," he said.
"Have a problem?"
"Not at all," he said. "Just didn't think you look like the kind of woman that needed to buy her own drinks."
"Not a fan of people in general," she said.
"Professionally or personally?" John asked. "Because I don't like crowds when I'm working, but some companionship here and then isn't too bad."
"Mm," Shelly muttered. She looked right into John's eyes. John wasn't clear what and how many drinks she had consumed, but she didn't look the least bit shattered. "I'll prefer to keep things professional, if you don't mind."
"Of course, of course," John said, holding his hands up dramatically. "Professional."
At his gesture, a small peal of laughter escaped Shelly.
"What?" John said, amused.
"Nothing," she cooed. "Just some memory of a previous job. Jobs."
"Really?" he laughed. "People have to be surrendering themselves to get shot by you?"
"Not often," she said. "It's better for all parties if they don't resist so much, however."
"I get that," he nodded. "Sometimes they just get so antsy Come on, you know what's coming!"
"They always say they expect it," her head leaned a little as she rested her cheek on one hand. "But the moment comes, and they are never ready."
"Yea," he shook his head. "Even for those that book their own appointments, you know?"
"You get people who book their own appointments?"
"Of course," he said. "Sometimes, they like going out with a bang, you know? Leave something of themselves behind."
"Hmm," she said. "I guess I sort of understand that. Can't pull the trigger themselves, after all."
"Not unless they have a professional setup," he agreed. "I'm portable and quick, you know? So they come to me."
"That's nice," she said. "In a really morbid way, I suppose."
"Morbid?" John asked. His hand settled on a glass, and he downed the contents.
He stared at the glass.
"This isn't my drink," he said.
"It isn't," she said.
"What is thi..."
"Shh," she shushed. "Keep things professional. Your moment's here, John."
---
r/dexdrafts | The old gin joint just right down an ominous alleyway had always been a favourite of mine. Secluded, warm, cozy, near my workplace, and the best part is that it's always empty when I was done for the day. I drop off the dragonuv issued by my company and march straight down to the alley. After a long hard day of looking through scope and pulling triggers, I can finally wind down with some Manhattan and Louis Armstrong.
As I enter the bar, I notice that barkeep was chatting away with another client. Would've preferred if I was alone for tonight, but I suppose social interaction is a welcoming change once in a while. I pull a seat next to him and ordered 2 shots of screwdriver and slid the other glass to the patron.
"Oh, thanks."
He took the glass gulped it down in one motion, judging from his appearance, I reckon he's somewhere in his 20s. Guess kids these days can handle their drinks.
"I owe you one man."
"Heh, you took that quite well."
"Yeah, I'm used to drinking the hard stuff. Nothing's better than to get completely shitfaced after a long crappy day of shooting, you feel me?"
I spit out my screwdriver into the ground, wetting the nice fur carpet underneath. The barkeep gives me a wide eyed stare and hand me over a piece of cloth. After apologizing and cleaning up the mess, I start conversing more with the kid.
"You shoot? Damn, I guess we're both on the same page then."
"The world is pretty small after all."
"If you don't mind me asking, where do you usually, you know, do the deeds?"
"Well, I usually shoot the usual. Places like mountains, woods. Anywhere where I can take a nice shot at the local wildlife."
Oh, I must have misjudged. This man is just a hunter not a-
"But sometimes I take jobs on wedding days or political campaign. Event where shit happens and people are around you know?"
Nope, definitely a killer.
"Do you prefer shooting from long range, or close ups?"
"Ooo, that's a tough one but if I have to pick a favourite it'll have to be long shot."
"Don't like getting noticed huh?"
"That and there's just something much more appealing to doing it, I don't know why."
"I can preach to that. What kind of scope do you use?"
"Scope?"
"Yeah, you know like 6 times, 24 times, 50 times. I'm a 24 myself but I sometime switch out for a 6 cause I couldn't find 24 that have nightvi-."
"Oh no, I don't use those things."
I pause and tilt my head slowly toward him with an anxious glare.
"Sorry, I must have misheard you. You're saying you shoot long range without a scope?"
"Yeah those things are too cumbersome, and even if I did it feels like cheating you know?"
What the fuck does he use then? Iron Sight? Am I talking to Simo Hayha reincarnate?
"Alright, fair. What about bipods then? They're a necessity and they are far more of a hassle to carry around than a scope."
"Right, yes, bipod, I use those.... Kinda."
"What do you mean kinda?"
"Well, I have them. I just never... used them that much."
"And you still managed to get good shot without it?"
"I gotta say, I may have a natural affinity for this job."
Okay, now he's just flexing at me right now. I can feel my pride as a sniper wilting ever so slowly inside my body with every word that comes out of his mouth. Perhaps I should just retire and start a new life as a cabaret manager or something.
"Oh, you wanna see my gear? I brought it along for tonight in case I see any cool looking sights."
He take a small case lying underneath his chair and places it on the table. What the hell? This look nothing like a gun case. He digs his hand inside and pull out a camera.
"It's kinda old, but it gets the job done. Say cheese!"
I was lost in my thought, the only reaction I was able to pull off was a face filled with relief and confusion. At the very least, I'm glad that I haven't met someone far better than me at my own job. On the other hand, my pride have sunk deep enough that getting shitfaced doesn't do it for me anymore.
\[Shit writer here, I don't know how to write short lol.\]
Edit: Fixed the spacing. I don't know why Reddit decided to do that but it did. | 2020-11-05T09:09:32 | 2020-11-05T08:14:19 | 38 | 11 |
[WP] As a former Chosen One you saw the signs when your daughter/son got themselves into a similar situation. You sent them off on a sleepover with their new friends. It's time to have a 'talk' with their new 'stuffed animal'. | I always knew my kid, Halo, was special. However, instead of pride, I have worry. Tell me it's normal for a 7-year-old to pick up sewing in 15 minutes by himself. Tell me it's typical for little Halo to make his own stuffed bears that look store-bought after a few mere hours of practice. Please do. I could use more denial right now.
See, I used to be one of those "Chosen ones" or "Fated Legends" and I retired right after I defeated the Dragon Lord at age 20. One of the signs of being a chosen one is that you have extraordinary talent in whatever your heart desires. My deal was that I loved fighting, like any cliched hero. I could have... passed the Legends stuff onto Halo.
But that's stupid. You're stupid. I'm stupid, this stuff isn't hereditary! It can't be!
Look, I'll prove it once and for all. I have a sword called 'OP' that only shines bright when it's touched by Fated Legends. Normally, it's Parenting 101 to keep kids away from sharp stuff, but not this time.
"Halo! Wanna play a game?" I say to him, who is playing with his first stuffed bear.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" He says, jumping up in excitement.
"Okay, let's play Statue. Close your eyes, put your hands out and stay very, very still until I say 'Move'. Then count to 100. When you are done counting, I'll say 'Move', and then you win!"
Halo squints at me, saying, "That sounds like no fun."
"Try it first, then we'll see if you're right. C'mon."
He does a cute, tiny grunt, then plays my game. As he counts, I place the sword in his hands and let go. OP gleams... like a star would. I grab OP and shove it back into a nearby box. Darn it. Wait, I feel someone watching me... is Halo cheating? I turn to him, and his eyes are squeezed shut. Nope, not him. I then look at his teddy bear, sitting up. Hold on, wasn't it lying down before?
Fuck.
Halo giggles, "Mommy said a bad word!"
Crap, I said that out loud? Well done, me. Best mom ever.
I keep my preppy voice, "Welp! Looks like Mommy has to feed the swear jar."
He opens his eyes and rushs to the swear jar on the counter. "Jar goes Nom nom nom!"
I guess he lost the game. I go up to the jar half filled with dollar notes and coins, open the jar, and take out my wallet. I drop a quarter in.
Halo says "Nom"
I drop another in.
"Nom"
And three more.
"Nom nom nom!"
Then I drop a fiver in.
"Big one! NOMMMMM"
I chuckle. Halo is such a happy, silly billy. I then frown at the fact that it may not last. Why world? Why pick him to lose his childhood for you? I whip my head around to look at that teddy bear. It's giving me a funny look. That punk.
"Say, Halo. It looks like your teddy needs a bath."
Halo looks at the toy bear, and says, "His name is Sir Cuddles."
"Okay. I'm going to take Sir Cuddles to the bathroom and clean him. You stay here and watch TV."
"Can I come?"
"No, because everyone needs alone time when in the bath."
"Okie dokie."
I grab the bear and head to the bathroom-now-interrogation-room. I lock the door and toss the toy onto the sink.
"You're alive, aren't you?"
The teddy bear stares at me with its beady eyes, never flinching. I slam my hand on the sink like interrogators do with tables when they want to intimidate suspects. The "pling" sound is not as effective.
"Don't lie. I know the deal about Chosen ones getting odd guardian angels. Tell me what you know or i'll throw you in the fireplace."
The bear blinks at me, saying, "That would break your son's heart."
"You underestimate how good a desperate parent is at lying to their kids. Now talk." I poke the toy in the belly.
Sir Cuddles starts to talk in a sagely voice, "A long time ago, there was a humble carpenter, who lived in harmony with all-"
I cut him off, "No backstories. Just tell me what evil he has to defeat and when."
The bear snorts in disapproval, "Fine. In 10 years, he has to defeat a demon lord."
"And when does his training start?"
"In 3 days."
I sigh, knowing the burden. I would never wish it on my child, so I say, "Can I take his place?"
Sir Cuddles folds his arms, "Yes, but the universe seems to favour teens more, not middle aged adults. While I can guarantee Halo's victory, I cannot guarantee yours."
"Wow, ageist. I'm only 30, you know."
The bear scoffs, "It's merely something I observed over centuries. I repeat, centuries. Feel free to dismiss it."
Any uncertainity I had about my decision is now replaced by justifiable irritation. With all of my conviction, I say, "I'm going to prove this ageist universe wrong and kick that demon's ass. Let me fight for Halo."
"Okay, grandma. You can do that, I'll help you with your wheelchair."
"Fuck you too." | Monique poured herself a glass of wine before addressing the stuffed ferret in the room. If she was being honest with herself it was the second glass, but surely the one she’d had fifteen minutes ago hadn’t counted? She’d needed the confidence boost, anyone would have. It was time though, her daughter was gone, her husband was gone, it was just the two of them.
“Fidel.” She said his name softly as she turned. The ferret was arranged across the top of the living room couch. He was well over a foot long with adorable large glassy eyes and a bright white head coming up from a fluffy, cinnamon furred body. He was soft to the touch, his tail felt nearly real when stroked, and if you moved his limbs just so you could see the stitches. He’d become her daughter’s best friend from the moment her stepfather had brought him home.
He was also a lie, and a curse no matter what anyone might say.
“Fidel,” she repeated, crossing the room towards him. Monique sat down in the chair she had arranged across from the couch and took a long sip of her drink. “I know you’re in there, you can’t hide from me. We both know who I was in that other world. What I was capable of.”
The ferret sat resilient. Reaching into her pocket Monique pulled out a lighter, one kept since her long ago days as a smoker. A large candle sat on the table between them and she lit it, her hands clumsy on the striker the first time. The smell of sandalwood filled the air, it wasn’t what she’d have picked for a torture but it would do.
Monique stood, grabbing the ferret by the scruff of its stuffed neck and squeezing hard enough to have broken bone if any were there. With every passing second she could feel the old ways coming back again. She took another sip.
“Last chance,” she said menacingly. He was silent, infuriatingly so.
In one fluid motion Monique thrust the ferret out over the candle, dipping his tail down towards the flame. The scent of singed fur began to overwhelm the sandalwood as she counted backwards.
3…2…-
“Ow, godsdamnit Monique! What the hell?!?” Fidel’s body twisted, coming to life in her hand. He drew his tail up, patting at it with his paws as his head writhed, trying to find a way out of her iron grip.
She blinked hard, nearly dropping her wine but never for a second loosening her grip on him.
“You never cussed,” she said, surprised.
“Yeah? Well you were seven when we met, even I have standards!” His voice was just like she’d remembered it from all those years before, low and gravelly, the barest hints of a strange accent. It was more at home in an old mercenary than a stuffed animal.
“Shit that hurt though! How’d you figure it out? I thought I was doin’ pretty good.”
“Good? From you? Fidel she’s my daughter! After everything I did for you people you couldn’t have left us alone? I nearly died on the Other Side, I won’t let you take away her childhood too!”
“Now look Nika—” She shook him hard, his little ferret limbs splaying through the air as he screamed in terror.
“It’s Monique now,” she said angrily, “I left all of that behind me when Maya was born.”
She stopped shaking him and tossed Fidel back onto the couch where he lay wheezing, rolling around between his back and his stomach as if he couldn’t decide which hurt less. “Yeah-” he said, coughing, “I can fuckin’ tell. Not a trace of the Beast of Gévaudan anywhere to be found.”
“Never call me that again.”
“Never do that again and we’ve got a deal.”
Now it was Monique’s turn to weaponize silence. She took her seat across from him again and watched the little ferret test each of his limbs carefully, checking to see if any of the stitches had torn. When he was finally satisfied he hopped onto the table between them, carefully pushing the candle out of the way, and settled onto his haunches in front of her.
“None of that answers my question though. How’d you know? I was an elephant the last time you saw me.”
In answer Monique reached into her shirt, pulling out the locket that hung there. When she flicked it open Fidel gasped, his face bathed in its bright green glow. “A Vair stone!” he hissed, “enchanted to detect magic? You must have made me the moment I crossed the threshold. You’re even more powerful than I thought if you brought that back with you.”
“And it wasn’t the only thing…” she let her words trail off meaningfully, watching Fidel to see what he might do. He had the measure of the situation now though, he would give nothing up for free.
“What’s happening now?” she finally asked. “Is there another rebellion? A dragon perhaps? What could you possibly need another chosen one for that I didn’t solve for you seven years ago?”
Fidel glanced around furtively, whispering a word that made his eyes glow. She knew the spell, he was looking for eavesdroppers, both magical and electronic.
“We’re alone,” Monique said dismissively, “I already swept it.”
“You’re completely sure?” he said. “I ask this not just for myself but for you as well. The Nika—” he stopped himself, slapping at his snout with his right forepaw, “— Monique, apologies. The Monique that I knew kept her secrets close to her chest, especially from the ones she loved.”
She took another too long sip of wine. Fidel waited for her to finish before continuing.
“It’s about Jaden,” he said, and her heart stopped. The little wine left in her glass began to shake and Monique closed her eyes, wishing she was anywhere but here, anyone but who she was.
Fidel spoke again though, and she hated him for it. “When were you going to tell Maya she had a brother?”
\--------
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-03-02T18:49:36 | 2021-03-02T17:45:37 | 261 | 163 |
[WP] "No Man can kill me!" the demon jeers, taking in the carnage it has caused. "But I am no man," you proclaim, ripping away your helmet to reveal your feminine features. You strike, your blade bouncing harmlessly off the demon's hide. "Did you... did you really think that's what I meant?" | Council had just been called to session when the main doors suddenly burst open and a twelve foot tall demon casually strode through. Its black body was spotted with metal plates, all smeared with ash and blood, and it was dragging along an almost-certainly-dead guard. It effortlessly tossed the body towards the podium of the High Chairman, and started speaking...
When it finished the room stood in silence. The demon’s wings seemed to sag, disappointed that none of its intended listeners actually understood ancient Hebrew. In synch, they all turned their attention to the frantic, clearly underpaid woman sitting in a corner while scrolling through a digital dictionary.“Umm... He says, ‘The time of man has finally reached its limit. This council must surrender to me and they may possibly live. Fight, and you shall die a painful death. For I have been blessed with the protection of divines. No man can kill me!”
One of the guards, clearly emboldened by the last statement tossed off her helmet, revealing long black hair. She swiftly unhooked her dagger and charged the demon. With a shout, she plunged it between two metal plates... with no effect. The demon sent her flying across the room with a mere backhand slap.
“Sorry!” the translator blushed while skimming a few more pages, “I meant human. Not man. ‘The time of *humans* has finally reached its limit’, and ‘No *human* can kill me.’ Sorry.”
With that point clarified, the room continued in silence. The members of council exchanged glances, not wanting to make the first move. After a few extremely long minutes, the High Chairman stood up, withdrew his blaster, and spattered the demon’s brains all over the floor.
“High Chairman Vhu’Tjry! I thought we agreed no weapons on the floor!” exclaimed a furious Councilwoman Ckck Ck Ck, her multple arms pounding the desk in rage.
“I’m not on the floor. I’m still at my seat.” the High Chairman defended with a swish of his antennae, “Besides, it was clearly threatening Councilman Weaver.”
“Yea, but killing it may have been an over-reaction...” Councilman Weaver said meekly. While he could usually handle a bit of blood, this was too much for his human stomach,
“Not to mention a violation of Treaty 7657 Section 65 Part E-8!” chimed in a delegate from the Xehon Hivemind, clearly expecting everyone to recall the stated passage word-for-word.
And so the Galactic Council slid into its typical day to day chaos; completely ignoring the janitorial staff who slithered into the room and cleaned up the mess mid-session. | *It was that same look of arrogance I had seen a hundred times before; that foolish certainty only a man was capable of. And demons, as you know, they represent the worst of all men.*
I strode down the stony path towards that fabled summoning ground. But, I was too late. The poor souls that had brought the beast into this world were already mutilated and feasted upon. When will they learn, I thought. You can never trust a demon. Least of all, one hungry after the bleak solitude of the nether realm.
Two glowing red eyes stared as I approached, at once puzzled and disdainful. The demon's voice was deep, and eloquent: "I suppose they sent you to kill me, did they?" his jagged teeth showing under the smugness of his smile.
This was the third bounty of the day, and I wasn't in the mood for the usual pontification. Demons relish the sound of their own voice. It made watching them die that much more satisfying.
"Stupid child. Don't you realise, no *man* can kill me."
"But I am no man," I answered, as I launched up the steps and removed my helmet, revealing a cascade of long red hair. I unsheathed my sword. The demon looked back at me, evidently speechless.
Eventually, he said: "Well begging your pardon, m'lady. I had no idea you were...so beautiful."
I was taken aback, and so took a moment to calculate the next move. Was this genuine? I studied close the looming countenance before me: the rippling musculature of a seasoned warrior, the smoothness of dark-red skin; the chiseled features now crestfallen in shame; the square, masculine jawline beneath sorrowful eyes and the curled horns of a demonic king.
He saw the curiosity on my face, and seized the moment to approach. "Do not worry, m'lady -- I intend you no harm.'
I could feel his hot breath on my face. Powerless to move, hypnotised trance-like in his gaze. He reached out a clawed and vascular hand, and, ever so gently, guided the hair from my face. He was tall, so very tall, so much more powerful up close. I knew I was witness to the most magnificent of all specimens. I couldn't move, and I did not want to.
With his other hand he took my own. And, as he slowly guided it towards himself, to that which I was suddenly begging for with my very soul, he whispered, "*The things I will do to you*."
Suddenly intoxicated with excitement, the soup that I'd downed at the inn only a half hour before rippled through my stomach, and I couldn't stop myself from ripping out a massive, earth-shattering fart. He stepped back in amazement.
Too embarrassed to speak, the uncertainty of the moment palpable, I did the only thing I knew how: I thrust my sword deep into his muscular chest, standing stoic as he stumbled backwards.
As he drew his last breathe, all I could say was, "I am sorry."
&#x200B;
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Thanks for reading!
r/nikomachus | 2021-03-30T19:19:17 | 2021-03-30T17:21:48 | 139 | 20 |
[WP]You summon a demon in order to complete a ritual in exchange you offered all your remaining lifespan. "17 billion years...I'm can't handle that amount" it answered with a mix of shock and horror. | “...I’m sorry what?” You had no idea how to respond to that answer.
“Did...did you not know?”
“Well of course I knew obviously I wasn’t in shock just now. YEAH OF COURSE I DIDNT KNOW!”
“Well jeez sorry for spoiling it for ya.” The Desmond huffs crossing his arms. You sigh “you know what? Just take what you can. I really need this done.”
“The most I can take is a hundred and fifty.”
“That’s fine.” And with that the ritual went on without a hitch. Now your not only gonna live for almost 17 billion years, you also can make the best sandwiches ever. Curtesy of grandmas old cursed cookbook that you can now read thanks to demon powers. | Backstory: I’m 17 years old, I come from a family of witches, my grandmother asked me to perform a ritual that would help me grow in power, but I, a skeptical girl, didn’t think this was real. Until I heard a demonic voice respond back, that I have a 17 billion year lifespan.
Now:
The candles in the room go out.
I quickly look around and see my window had been opened, letting a breeze in.
CLACK!
I close the window shut, then goosebumps form all over my body.
*Someone is behind me... I feel it*
I turn around and see a tall pale man towering over me. This absolutely terrified me. I did recognize him, but I can’t pin point where from.
“What do you want?” I asked in shock.
He cocked his head to the side, staring at me with his dark, empty eyes. Then took a step towards me, moved my dark brown hair to the side, revealing my bare neck.
I started tearing up. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
He leaned down towards my ear, and whispered in a deep cold voice, “You’ll see very soon.” Then he leaned back, smiled showing an animalistic mouth.
His smile was so evil, I couldn’t stop the tears from running down my cheeks as I closed my eyes.
Then a surge of pain went through my body.
He was biting my neck. | 2021-04-11T01:49:12 | 2021-04-10T20:30:38 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] Colony ships have been leaving weekly for awhile. The streets around your home are looking more empty. You don't qualify for the colony ships. You will always be one of the left behind. | The oil reserves had ran dry 90 years ago, long before I was born. The damage that they had caused remained. The planet was dying, so people started to leave. Mars was always a hotspot, “Become one of the first to live on a planet once red now green!”, a true planet B. We branched out, colonised the Moon, then Phobos. They say Mars will launch missions to Venus soon, they’ll have floating cities above the surface.
Very few people weren’t given the means to become a colonist. I’m one of the few. The corporations didn’t discriminate based on ability, race, gender, sexual orientation. If you could hold a shovel you were away. They did discriminate based on health.
I had a congenital heart condition. Leaving the Earth’s gravity would kill me. Nothing on earth could cure me. I was stuck here. Every day, a neighbour would leave my apartment block. Every week the news would speak of towns being empty, of cities populations deteriorating. I had a large flat for cheap and high paying job thanks to this. But I couldn’t share it with anyone.
My friends had left a long time ago. Seeing them off was difficult, sure, but it wasn’t heartbreaking. They were happy, as I would be here. I was happy until my family left last week. And it was the hardest thing I have ever done.
My five year old didn’t understand why daddy couldn’t come with him. Since he could talk he’d been obsessed with the moon above him. Wanting to go there, live there. Look down at Earth. He was going to share it with mummy and daddy. He would talk away about all the things we could do together, show me the videos of life up there on the projector. I would nod, smile. My wife and I would cry ourselves to sleep knowing that one day he was going to have to go up there without me. Knowing he wouldn’t understand why daddy couldn’t come too.
We made the decision in the summer of last year, the temperature hit 40°C for the first time ever in the UK. Trying to keep him from seeing the statistics, the footage of people dying of thirst, heat exhaustion, suffocation… It was Sisyphean, every time he switched on the projector to see the Lunar colonies he saw death. I didn’t want to bring my child up in this world. And I knew letting time slip away to make this decision was only going to make it harder.
I can’t forget his face. Or my wife’s. Seeing them go was the hardest thing I have ever done. I still go into his room sometimes, look at the half done Lego sets and scribbled drawings. Sometimes I call out to him and ask him questions, get him talking. I break down every time.
He will grow up and my wife will grow old being pioneers of humanity’s golden age. And I’ll die scorched and alone on a fading rock. Looking up at something that seems so close I can touch it. Like I can touch them. | You might think this is a tale of sorrow. It certainly seems like one. All the signs point that way, the images like that from an apocalypse: desolate buildings, people gathered around bonfires in the middle of the night, children looking up at the stars, watching the last of the smoke trails dissipate through the air.
We are the Left Behind. For one reason or another, we didn't qualify to board one of the colony ships. Our lives weren't valuable enough to be worth saving. To think about it that way makes my insides squirm, and I want to go smashing windows like the rest of them.
But I don't. I understand.
We ruined this planet together, as a collective. Large organizations buried science and governments looked the other way, but we let them do it. We stood by and watched, like people gathered around a stabbed man, watching him bleed to death but too tired, too apathetic, too ignorant to do anything about it. When the whole world's with you, standing shoulder to shoulder against disaster, who are you even supposed to call?
I don't know. I wish now that we'd done better, but it's too little too late. The heat waves started decades ago; the sea levels rose year-by-year. My head would spin off my neck if I tried to recall every little sign, every horrible headline, every month of suffering but no action.
The colony ships came fast, though. Once it became apparent that it wasn't going to stop, the world kicked into high gear. We built dozens of them, massive metal paradises sent like lightning into the black. That's something I'm proud of, even if I didn't get to take part.
I'm walking down the street of my childhood home as I write this. The sun's just fallen below the horizon. I wish you could see it, how the ruins look streaked with fading fire, how the stillness is everywhere. With how quiet it is, you'd think it was meant to be this way. That this was inevitable. That this was the plan.
What *was* the plan? To keep climbing with our ears covered? The thought seems ridiculous now.
I step through the door of my old house. Run my fingers over the chipped paint. Duck my head into the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom turned abandoned workout center. Everything looks dead. It should be sad, but really its serene. Knowing what I do, I'm glad no one's sitting at the kitchen table. I'm overjoyed that it's empty, actually, because they all got to leave.
I gave up my spot on the colony ship so my little sister could survive. Maybe it's selfish, but I want you to think I was one of the good ones.
Leaving the neighborhood behind before it fossilizes me as well, I walk toward the bonfire. Not too far, now—I can see the light and hear the chatter as soon as I'm down the street. It's a horrible smell—smoke and cooked meat and sweat—but God it's a comfort these days.
Before I join the festivities, I'm going to leave this note. I'll put it under a rock. That seems like the safest place. But before I depart, let me tell you what we're going to do.
We're going to dance.
We're going to sing.
We're going to get annoyed at each other and smile the whole time.
We're going to talk about the past.
We're going to laugh.
We're going to fall asleep looking at the stars, watching the emptiness that we're a part of. But we're going to be content with that because we know the ground would rather claim a soul still fighting, always fighting, to be alive. | 2021-06-30T09:13:39 | 2021-06-30T09:07:07 | 118 | 49 |
[WP]You adopt a stray cat. The gifts it leaves on your bed are getting more concerning. | Naxos was a long slim cat, half Siamese with a light mottled coloring that reminded Julia of the marble from the Greek island that gave the cat her name. Julia wasn't usually one to take in stray animals, but when she first saw the cat hiding from the rain on her doorstep, soaked, she let her in to warm by the fire, and fed her, and after that Julia was her owner, as far as Naxos was concerned. She got out all the old cat stuff from where it had been stowed in the garage and that was that.
The dead mouse on her bed the next morning was a little concerning, but since the mouse had obviously been inside the house already she decided that she preferred it to whatever the creature had been doing before it got to her bed.
"Good job, Naxos," she said, stroking the cat's fur. "But you can keep that. Mice aren't really my thing."
The next morning she was awoken by a lot of movement on the bed. Without opening her eyes, she mumbled to Naxos to settle down.
"Oh, sorry," said a deep voice from beside her. Julia jumped out of bed and scrambled for the wooden dowel she kept under her nightstand as a weapon. She saw the source of the voice was a handsome, half-naked man.
"Who are you? What are you doing here? I'm calling the police. Get out."
The man raised his hands in surrender to the stick she waved in front of him. "Sorry, the cat made me come in here. I think it was supposed to be a surprise, but I realize — yeah — thinking about it now... It's kind of weird. Imma head out."
Naxos was sitting at the bedroom door as the man left. Julia gave her a look. "You should be preventing strange men from coming into my bed. Especially ones that are — I'm gonna say drunk? No men in my bed." The cat seemed to nod and sauntered off.
The next morning, Julia was again awakened by a lot of movement on her bed. She reached out a hand towards her dowel. "That better not be a drunk guy," she said before opening her eyes.
"The cat told me to come here," said the woman sitting on the bed. She was not nearly as half-naked as the man. In fact, she was wearing an old sweater covered in cat hair.
"Out, you crazy person," Julia said, pointing with her dowel. "Cat's can't talk and I'm getting new locks."
"Well, Naxos said you needed company and weren't into men."
"I'm into men just fine. Get out. Cats can't talk. Naxos, can you talk?"
"No," said the cat.
"See. I've known that cat three days and she's never lied to me."
When the woman had left, Julia turned to the cat. "Did you talk before?"
"Meow," said the cat.
"That sounded like you just said the word meow instead of actually meowing."
"Purr," said the cat, rubbing up against her leg.
"Imma get some coffee."
The next morning, Julia was again awakened by a lot of movement on her bed. She already had the dowel in her hand under the blanket. "That better not be a person," she said. "If it is and the cat told you to come here, just leave. The locksmith is coming today."
When no answer came, she peeked open an eye. Naxos was sitting on the bed, next to a pile of cash.
"Where did you get this?"
"Um— Meow?" Naxos responded, refusing to look Julia in the eyes.
"I don't need these gifts. You can stay here without them."
Naxos bent to pick up one of the bundles of bills in her teeth, and began to take it away.
"Wait. Since it's already here you can leave it. Just stick to mice in the future."
"Okay. Purr," said the cat.
Julia squinted at Naxos and pursed her lips. "And cats can't talk."
\[This story dedicated to Naxos, the clumsy half-Siamese furball, R.I.P.\]
\[More at r/c_avery_m\] | Mimo, black-tailed and otherwise white as snow, hopped onto the kitchen counter and presented her master with her most recent catch: an ear.
"M-Mimo! Not again. I've told you, I--"
Her innocent eyes sparkled and her tail danced behind her as she plopped the ear down on the cool granite. Konrad sighed. Yesterday it had been a nose. The day before that, a glass eye. One of these days, he reckoned, he might catch Mimo pulling an entire head by its hairs across the living room. Well, she almost had already. Bit by bit.
The body parts were all a pale shade of blue. A cold shiver went down Konrad's spine as he considered that there may be some decomposing neighbor--a woman in her late 40s, perhaps--lying on the floor in a house nearby, her cadaver picked apart by a stealthy feline intruder. But this ear went against that whole idea. It was drooping at its tip and there had never been an earring in it as far as Konrad could tell. Was that a common thing? Women with masculine ears who never bothered to have them pierced?
Konrad didn't know many women. He knew his mother. And he knew his sister. Barely. She had gone off to Belgium on a whim when he was in preschool and she'd never returned, not even for holidays or birthdays. There was a woman working at the local deli with whom he had been building a report over the past years. By now she knew exactly how he liked his sandwich and also when he'd like to have it. Not as well as his mother, sure. But not even Konrad knew how he liked his sandwich as well as his mother. It hadn't been easy describing it to Jane, though Konrad had tried his best, and Jane had tried her best as well in following his ramblings about mustard and slices of ham and just how to place the lettuce (it makes more of a difference than you might think). Jane wore earrings. Silver, circular; for months Konrad had been researching in an attempt to find out what brand, precisely, she preferred so that he could buy her a nice present. But right now he had his hands full with a different lady.
"You could at least eat them," said Konrad. "Instead you leave me with your troubling ... evidence. I'll flush this one down like I did the rest, but it's the last time, you hear? If it happens just once more I'll be flushing you down instead."
Mimo purred and hopped off the counter, apparently satisfied with their brief discussion. She tippy-tapped over to Konrad's bedroom and, presumably, went to enjoy a long nap.
The apartment was filled with dolls, ornate pillows, bookshelves packed with crime fiction, and a whole assortment of dead plants. Dust covered most of it like pollen does a street come spring. Konrad put on his coat, the thin, dark grey one that he preferred for intricate missions, and quietly closed the front door behind him as he left to investigate. In his mother's books, the private eye would often huff and puff as he--or she--worked cases on behalf of poor, helpless relatives or friends or lovers. But with his asthma something like that was out of the question. His lungs couldn't take it. Konrad's mother had even gotten him a medical exemption from PE. "My poor boy," she had cried in front of his entire class. "Look at him wheezing, gasping for air; the horror!" Strangely, though, he'd never reacted with coughs nor asthmatic fits to Mimo. She had entered his life abruptly, and it had been something of a blessing. Konrad had found her shivering in the side of the road, and he brought her home, even risking messing up his suit. It wasn't such a big deal. He'd only worn it once, and unless things worked out with the Deli woman he couldn't think of a reason to wear it in the future.
He wasn't sure what sort of signs to look out for. Something unusual. Something suspicious. Perhaps a mailbox stuffed full because its intended recipient lay lifeless on their floor somewhere? Or maybe a smell. He could follow it, if there was one. Alas, he couldn't detect anything like it. But just as he was growing frustrated with his lack of ideas--they seemed to come so readily to the detectives in his mother's books--he had a mysterious encounter. Something so unexpected and unusual and suspicious that it had to be related to the case, because at this point he had begun to think of it as a case; it was a woman, and she smiled at him. She had long, brown hair and as she passed Konrad she looked him in his eyes and she smiled. He took a deep breath. His first clue had arrived, and he intended to pursue it.
TBC | 2021-12-17T07:48:14 | 2021-12-17T07:31:47 | 65 | 31 |
[WP] Two people in a bar are having a conversation. The topic of their "body counts" comes up. One's an assassin, the other is an escort. Each thinks the other has the same profession as them, and is horrified by what they are told. | Andrew was a small boy with blond hair, his soft traits making him look younger, his féminine frame was delicate yet strong, but, would you deal with his services, you would find a ruthless and unscrupulous man hiding behind the child like face. Of course, none of his clients would never recognise him in the open as the theatrics of his profession were a must to protect his true identity, the make-up and the clothings were there to complement the attire and make good impresion. Of course all this was in the goal of making his client lower their guard, for the greater good he used to say.
Melissa was what we could call a snow-white. She had pale skin and dark raven hair, her red lips were like a flower and her ample bossom danced to her mouvements. Her eyes where her most striking feature. They where a deep green colour that seemed to glow in the darkness. As she walked through the room her beauty would captivate your attention. Her voluptuous courbes and her tight dress called for attention wherever she went. Her way of walking silently even when wearing those delicate high heel of hers, it was as she simply glided across the room. She was beauty and grace incarnated.
Both of them where talking at the bar like old acquintances, as per usual, none of them had alcohol. It mixes bad with their work they said. And oh boy they worked.
"To be fair" said the blond lad "I might take ou 4 or 5 in a calm night, but some hot nights I got up to 7 or 9 clients"
"That's a lot to take in" responded the beauty. I mean I had to take out the whole squad of 20 or more plus the big boss a few times just because some fuck up. But that is something that hapens rarely"
"Indeed that is so fucked up, i cant even fantom how taking on 20 guys or more one one night. Just the tough makes me shrudder" responded Andrew.
"Oh, they aren't always men you know. I am sure you too, sometimes you get fucked by some random chick that think they are tougher. Fuck. I even had to dance with some children once. That was the hardest.." said Melissa with a dark tone.
"Wow, that's even more disgusting." I have never taken upon children. Women, its another matter. Lots of women are into it, you know, it hapens once or twice in a night, but I never take out children." Said Andrew morose.
"A job is a job" shrugged Melissa, her curly hair dancing to the mouvement of her shoulders. "Come on. I know you too had to do some nasty stuff. It's part of the job. Some clients want it to go smooth some want violence and some want it silently"
"Well, yeah, nasty stuff is sadly always the norm. More so since my usual audience are old decrepit men high atop their Emperium." I ussualy portray myself as a child you know, sometimes a little boy,a lot of times a girl. Is what they want after all."
"What!? Man that.. that is really fucked up" I tought I was the worst of our kind but you just took the crown" said the shocked Melissa.
"Well, better be me that a real child you know. The kind of experiences our work line brings aren't for those kindred souls. So lets get our hands dirty and bloody instead of theirs"
"Well. In that I agree whole hardly" said Melissa, rising her orange juice to toast.
"To keep children from the sex work environment" said Andrew, his feminine face brightly smiling.
"Wait. Sex work?" |
I am under 18, so I misunderstood what you meant by "escort", so uh, sorry about that
💀
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Gabriel sat in one of the tables in one of the many busy bars of Paris. Outside, by the window, he could see the great Eiffel Tower looming above.
Although the warm rays of the sun and the cheerful dancing of the daffodils told him it was going to be a happy day, Gabriel's plan was otherwise. He was here to meet an assassin, just like himself. Together, they would plan to kill one of the politicians in the French government.
He was waiting for an assassin by the name of Marcos Esposito, a 36 year old assassin from Italy. He would be wearing a black leather jacket and deep black sunglasses to cover his eyes. Marcos and Gabriel both worked for the same organization, The Snake Grave, which paid them each time they successfully killed their target.
Gabriel sat back and watched the innocent kids walk around and play and enjoy their lives. The politician was once one of them, but even still, a duty is a duty.
\*\*\*
Markos Toussaint wore his black leather jacket and deep black sunglasses which completely covered his eyes. He was about to meet his boss today at this bar in Paris. He was a private escorter, and in a few short weeks, it was his job to escort this French politician safely to a building. He opened the glass door and walked in. He walked past the tables for a while until somebody called out to him.
"PSST! Marcos, over here". I turned around. It was a man dressed in a tuxedo, and he was pointing to the seat opposite to him. I sat down.
"So," the man began. "How do you plan to do the job?"
Markos was a bit confused as first, but he realized his boss must be asking him where he would escort the politician and how he was trained to protect him.
"Well", Markos spoke. "The politician is going to be dropped off at the parliament building down the street. After that, we will have security monitoring the area for any potential dangers. After we have done our job with the security, I will do my job with the politician.
Gabriel nodded his head. The man sounded pretty experienced to him. The way he just dismissed the "dealing with security" part so casually means he must be good at his job.
"That is a great plan. Say, you seem to be good at what you are doing. How long did it take you to get here?"
"Eh, a lot of training and skill. I had to practice taking bullets in my body to do my job properly." Markos remembers his training years. They would shoot him with bullets and he would have to take them in order to protect the president. Of course, they shot at the non-vital parts, but he still remembers the vivid pain and the blood coming out of the wounds.
Gabriel nodded. "Yeah, you seem very experienced. I bet you have a high body count."
Markos was a bit skeptical with the "body count", but he responded with: "yeah, I have escorted many people before."
That sentence caught Gabriel's attention. "Escort?". Markos seemed confused too.
"Yeah, didn't you hire me to escort that French politician?"
"No. I thought you were the assassin, Marcos Esposito". Suddenly, Markos understood why the conversation was so weird.
Gabriel pulled something out of his side. It was a pistol, staring dead straight at Markos's eyes. "Well friend, looks like I have said too much. It was nice meeting you though." But before he could pull the trigger, he was thrown back at his seat, and blood splattered all over it. The people in the bar yelled and screamed in fear, and started frantically running out of the bar.
Markos looked to the side. It was a man dressed almost exactly like him, holding a Desert Eagle pistol in his hand. On the front of his jacket, at the top left, typed in small print, was the word "CIA".
"Hi, this is Marcos Esposito. I'll explain everything in the car." He had a thick Italian accent.
As Marcos and Markos both walked out of the bar, Markos was trying to process what had happened in the last 10 minutes. | 2022-04-26T03:07:20 | 2022-04-25T22:25:06 | 69 | 41 |
[WP] Two people in a bar are having a conversation. The topic of their "body counts" comes up. One's an assassin, the other is an escort. Each thinks the other has the same profession as them, and is horrified by what they are told. | Cristina almost spat her beer.
—A hundred? —they were both 23, they had already discussed that— How long have you been in it?
She became an assasin when she was 20, and had killed 52 people.
—Three years. When my parents found out I liked women they cut me off, so I needed the money to pay for college.
Addison was very proud of her job, being an escort is not easy.
—And do you still talk to them?
—Nah. They can go to hell, if they are right I´'ll meet them there.
—Well, according to religion our job is pretty sinful —Cristina joked. But she was calculating her next move.
—I literally don't give a fuck —she answered starting to play with her red hair.
Cristina smiled, she liked her. If Addison was also an assasin she would be way harder to kill. Unless, she could get her to go with her to a room.
&#x200B;
//English is my secong language, and I feel like I used the words "she" and "her" way too much, I'm sorry | Man 1: Overhears Man 2 talking to someone (ex:server/bartender) about how tired he is after..."Hey man props to you for having the guts to talk about it, to a stranger, in public no less."
Man 2: shrugs "I guess. I got used to it after some time. It's nothing to be embarassed about, just different interests to sustain ourseleves. I'd be concerned if he was government though." (Man 2 says chuckling a little)
Man 1: "Oh... can I buy you a beer?"
Man 2: "Sure."
Man 2 gets seated next to Man 1 who shifts a little.
Man 1: "So who was your best... body?"
Man 2:"Oh... I didn't really pay attention to that. Like I said, it's an interest, I enjoy it, but it's also just a job."
Man 1: "Really? What's your body count?"
Man 2: "I don't know. Could be 256, 243, 317 etc, no clue."
Man 1:"You're lying."
Man 2: shakes head
Man 1: "Wow, so how long have you spent in jail?"
Man 2: "I've never been arrested, to this date at least."
Man 1: "Woah, really! That's very impressive. How did you do it?"
Man 2: "Huh? The regular way I suppose. Many of us don't get arrested you know."
Man 1: "A gun? What do you mean?"
Man 2: "No! What? What kinda sicko are you?"
Man 1: "What do you mean! A gun is quicker, and, far less painful..." | 2022-04-26T00:20:42 | 2022-04-25T22:30:31 | 67 | 14 |
[WP] You're the laughing stock of the Underworld, but on Earth your reputation attracts followers willing to betray everything. You're the only demon to uphold their side of the bargain, no strings attached. | "Great Lord Soku," the woman breathes, hair brushing the floor as she lowers her head, "I'll do anything for a taste of immortality. I'll lie, I'll murder, I'll give up my very soul, only to spare myself the pain that comes with--"
"Don't be so dramatic," I sigh, picking at a grain of ash stuck under one of my razor-sharp nails.
Face streaked with tears, the woman lifts her head, awe and confusion passing over her wrinkled face. "Great Lord Soku?"
"You cults should really do your research first," I continue, wringing my massive hands and extending one toward her. "I don't *want* anything from you, but if you're going to be around all those millions of years, at least join my entourage. And if you don't want to exist past the heat death of the universe, do a chore for my every now and then, and we can call it even. Sound fair?"
I never sought out the relief of my devotees that comes with the loose terms of my pacts, but it comes without fail, fast and sudden. The old woman leaps to her feet, bowing vigorously, a crooked smile plastered onto her lips. "What will be my first task, Great Lord Soku? However I can repay my great debt, I will--"
"*Again* with the dramatics." I roll my eyes. Then, with a wave of my hand (and its ash-free fingernails), I grant the woman at least three million more years of life. A purple aura, of sorts, rushes down her from head to toe, making her gasp. Then the light recedes, and although the woman appears unchanged, I know she'll live for eons to come. "Now. If you could escort me out of here, that'd be great."
"Of course!" the woman shouts, leaping past me to throw open the door. Following behind her, I duck underneath the doorway and step out into the suburban cul-de-sac, automatic lamps illuminating an empty street. The woman peers left and right, arms spread wide in a defensive stance as she cautiously leads me down the street. Seeing her so perky--more alive than in any of the decades I've observed her--makes me chuckle. The other demons may mock me for my loose, 'cowardly' methods, but it does give me some gratification to give my devotees such purpose.
"Excellent work, Sucky," growls a disembodied jeer, echoing over the empty streets. "You've treated yet another of your groupies to the gift of paranoia."
The woman leaps into the air at least six inches (not a feat of immortality, but fright) and takes several rapid spins. "Who's there?" she howls. "No one will mock Great Lord Soku!"
"Calm down, Marie," I warn her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Brusci, come out."
A set of horns appears in the air, then a snout-like face materializes just below them. Brusci's wings come just before his back, sharp talons forming at their ends. Bulging muscles and a twelve-pack follow, finished off by a pair of bulging thighs that are the demon's most prized possession. Brusci crosses his arms, peering down at me with a smirk of superiority. "Never were brave enough to set good terms, were you?" he sneers.
"I'm sorry I don't coerce them into signing away their souls, like the likes of you," I retort, although my voice shakes audibly. The woman turns slowly, lifting my hand off her shoulder with shaking fingers of her own. Her eyes have a fear in them that Brusci can detect.
"You're a disgrace to our species, Sucky," Brusci shouts. Wings flapping, he soars forward, slamming down just in front of me. Swallowing hard, I shove my devotee behind me. "You give us a bad name, one of wimps and cowards. I should finish you off here and now, so you don't spoil our reputation any further."
Then he lands a hard punch that flies into my jaw, sending me stumbling backward. Marie is knocked to the ground, shrieking, but her broken nose quickly reshapes itself. Muttering under my breath, I wipe my face and raise my hands to the sky, beginning an ancient chant. "Aww, summoning your little friends?" Brusci mocks. "You'll never be able to call enough groupies to save you--not even if there are a thousand of that little old crone."
*"Ad me, amici,"* I chant, *"ad me*.*"* Then I turn to the demon, courage returning. "That's the thing, Brusci. Not everyone is like little Marie here, who just wished for immortality. There's also..."
But before I can finish, the ground shakes, and a hulking fist slams through the asphalt. Blue veins bulge, pumping blood to the massive muscles I created. Carl's deep voice resounds through the suburb, roaring so loud that Marie breaks into a grin. *"Who has insulted my master?"* | The Hall of Demons is perhaps the largest room in hell. Or that’s what is told, and nobody would even think of arguing against Lucifer. Hell is, after all, a separate dimension, domain, that can be stretched as big as needed. All those billions of damned souls need to go somewhere.
And yet it’s that particular hall where the greatest of demons would gather, or most spiteful for those who have lost their souls without even getting what they paid their soul for. It’s the hall where the demons tell their stories of how they managed to deceive yet another human in a most humiliating way. Sometimes the most awe-inspiring moments for other demons are those tiny details that ended up deceiving the human. Whether it was a single letter in a contract that changed the context entirely… or changing the situation ever so slightly that the request is no longer possible or is entirely invalid.
Yet every time I open the door, the room turns quiet for a moment as all of the demons look at me. But it’s not out of awe or jealousy. It’s with disgust and hatred. For them, the fact that I am amongst the hundred of the best soul-gathering demons is something they can barely bear. After all, I’m the only demon who actually keeps my end of the deals.
I enter the hall and manage to pass a few tables before I get called out by an old friend of mine. “Ozroch,” he says.
I stop after I have taken a few steps past their table. I clench my fist and tell myself to be my usual self. I cannot let them see through me. Not today.
“Azzathad!” I say, turning around slowly and clapping my hand together. “You’re as ugly as ever!”
He snorts. “Please, keep your flattery to yourself. I’ve divorced twice already. I saw you climbed in ranks again?”
I open my eyes wide, pretending to be surprised, but also making it very obvious. “What? You can read? I thought nobody taught you how to read?” There is a chuckle in the room. Despite them hating me for my ways of damning the souls honestly, they still enjoy the ice we apply on each other. After a short pause, I chuckle to myself. “Yes, around sixty years ago I damned a whole syndicate, helping them to become the most influential familia in the town. But unline you who like to damn them immediately, I left them be and waited for my payday. They all will die, eventually, Azzathad.”
Azzathad lands his large first on the table, that would normally break any table… except tables in this hall. Lucifer knew very well that he needed to create… quite powerful tables here. He spits in front of me. “There is no deception in your methods. It’s… disgusting. There is no…”
I smile. “There is no what? Honor?” I start laughing, especially loud to annoy everyone. “I am sorry Azzathad for overtaking you in ranking. I guess that makes you… my bitch?”
I turn my back to him and continue walking away. “Well, if it’s so shameful, maybe you should go and deceive harder? Find some simple folk. After all, you fail to damn lawyers, unlike me…”
“In fact…” I say loudly as I stand on the podium in front of everyone… There’s sudden attention, and not because I’m talking, but because I broke the most damn rule in hell. Breaking that rule will damn me. And that makes them, for once, smile, thinking that they could finally get rid of me. I stepped on the podium that only Lucifer is allowed to stand on. “...you all should get your shit together.”
It’s Dogiril who stands up and snorts. “Your life is now forfeit. Your words mean nothing.”
I chuckle. “Lucifer is dead.”
There is a moment of silence. Then wild laughter bursts out. I laugh with them, for a short moment.
“You want to say that you… number… what was it again… sixty… killed Lucifer?” Dogiril says. “I’m number one, and even I would never even try anything like that.”
“Remember what Lucifer told us a not too long time ago? Only the strongest deserve to rule! And… I’m the strongest.” I sit down on Lucifer’s throne which silences everyone.
“This is not funny, Ozroth. Stand up, or I will force it. Don’t you dare to dirty his throne!” Dogiril says.
“There’s one reason why none of you could ever defeat Lucifer. And that’s by design. You all deceive, fucking over your clients. That makes you untrustworthy and every client that comes here damns you for eternity.” There’s a moment of chuckles. “I know-I know. It’s a compliment for most of you. But you see, I do not. And most souls who come here, happy that they got their end of the deal… do not hate me. In fact, they worship me… they are willing to do anything I ask. After all, now that they are here, why wouldn’t they want a better life here… and they know that I will deliver.
The door opens and thousands of souls -- small demons -- enter the chamber, starting to circle the room. And for the first time in my lifetime, I saw a spark of something I’ve been waiting for my entire life. All the demons had fear in their eyes. “We all can give the souls we damn some power. Make them our underlings. But none of you do it, because you cannot trust anyone. So you keep the power for yourself. But I have an army. I might be weaker than you, but try to defeat an army of million lesser demons!”
I stand up, walk to the door that leads to Lucifer’s room… no… my room, and enter it. I don’t need to see it. Hearing their screams is enough -- music to my ears. | 2022-05-28T19:05:32 | 2022-05-28T15:51:54 | 435 | 142 |
[WP] You, the hero, spot the villian hurriedly heading down the street, and into the local hospital. You suspect that he's up to no good, and follow behind them. As you walk into the reception, you're surprised by what you hear. | I felt a sickening feeling in my stomach as I watched him running towards the hospital. Whatever the Ice Baron was going to do, it wasn’t going to be good.
Even now, I still find it hard to believe how wrong I was.
I managed to slip into the lobby without being detected—one of the many benefits of my superpower of invisibility. It was a rare power, but even less common in heroes. Most of those with my power became highly paid thieves or assassins, but I had refused to. Maybe it was fear of the painful execution I would suffer if I was caught, but I liked to think that I cared about doing the right thing more than I feared getting in trouble.
“Alastair!” The receptionist called to the Ice Baron with a wide grin and what appeared to be genuine affection in her voice. “Shh! Keep your voice down,” he replied. “I have a reputation to uphold."
“Alright,” she replied, smile fading. “I don’t understand why you want to uphold that part of your reputation, though.”
“It’s safer that way,” he replied with a grimace. I wasn’t sure if the sorrow in his voice was faked, but it seemed more genuine than I expected from a man who froze the old Mayor and his family in their home and let them all melt into the city gutters.
“If you say so,” the receptionist replied. “Dr. Anderson is waiting for you in the usual place.”
“Thank you, Emma.”
“Of course,” she replied, some of her grin returning. The Ice Baron walked to the elevator bank on the right, and her eyes followed after him until he disappeared from view.
I scurried along after him, making sure to avoid bumping into anyone along the way. I might have been invisible, but that didn’t mean that I could throw caution away entirely. People tend to notice someone knocking into them--even invisible someones. I slipped into the elevator with the Ice Baron just before the door began to close.
The button for the sixth floor was lit, so I read the office listings for the floor.
*Administration Offices, Transplant Surgery/Organ Donor Operations, and Poison Control*
I felt a chill go through my body as I read the words. The Ice Baron had regular business with the Head of the hospital? There was no way that would result in anything short of horrors for the city.
I tried to steady myself with a few deep breaths. Maybe the Ice Baron had just been poisoned, and he needed a quick fix. But he was called a “Baron” for a reason. Would he really go to the hospital to treat his poisoning instead of hiring someone to take care of him in private?
My fretting was cut short by the ding of the elevator door as we arrived on the sixth floor. I felt a sense of dread as the Ice Baron approached the Head Administrator’s office.
I barely had time to be stunned as he turned before the office and started walking to the Organ Donor wing. What business would the Ice Baron have with organ donors? My fear from before was quickly replaced with a new kind of horror as he knocked on the door of one of the surgery rooms. Was he going to add organ harvesting to his list of misdeeds?
(Part Two below)
\--
If you liked this, check out my subreddit! r/NicodemusLux | I try to catch up to my nemesis, hoping to stop him, and as I walk though the hospital doors I hear him yelling "WHERE IS SHE? WHERE'S MY DAUGHTER?" Wait, what? He has a daughter? I never knew... the receptionist seems terrified, and she makes eye contact with me. I give her a firm nod, reassuring her nothing will happen while I'm around. I hang back, genuinely curious as to what's happening. The receptionist turns back to the villain, Poulst.
"What's your daughter's name, sir?" The receptionist was trying to maintain her cool. "Maria" he responds. "I heard that someone attempted to shoot her for being *my* daughter, but she's nothing like me! She thinks I'm a freaking bus driver! She barely avoided a fatal shot, right? I need to see her! If you don't let me in, I'll-"
"You'll what?" I cut in. Poulst whips round to see me, taser at the ready. He instantly goes wide-eyed and enraged at the same time. "You gonna drag me back to prison? I thought you were supposed to be kind!" "I am" I respond. "You just need to calm down. Threats won't help anyone." I approach the desk. "Let us see her."
Poulst narrows his eyes. "*Us?*" he questions. I look at him sternly. "Someone needs to keep you in check, and I'm the only one who can." Defeated, he nods, and we go up to see her. It looks like she just came out of surgery, and she seems tired, but perks up upon seeing her father. "Da- daddy..." she says weakly. Poulst rushes right over to her side.
"Maria... you're gonna be ok, sweetie! I promise!" I couldn't believe what I was seeing... I thought this man had no heart, but here he is, full of love and compassion. I start tearing up, and Maria notices me. "Aren't you... the hero **cough** hero guy?" I nod. "Why ar- are you... here? **cough cough**" I look at Poulst, who nods at me. I take that as permission to tell her the truth... so I tell her everything.
"Daddy? Is... is it all... **cough** true?" Poulst looks his daughter in the eyes. "Yes... unfortunately. I'm sorry, I feel like what happened to you is my fault. I'll stay by your side until you're better... and then..." I can sense what he wants to say, but it seems like he lacks the confidence. I put my hand on him and give him a reassuring smile. "Do you know why I never took you to the special prison facility? Because I wanted to trust you, I wanted you to one day change. I'll leave you two alone now."
&#x200B;
It's been a month since I visited the hospital with Poulst. I've heard no activity from him, even though his daughter made a full recovery. I've been keeping busy dealing with common criminals. I guess I should get some rest... huh, a new notification? Who am I dealing wi- WHAT? Poulst... turned himself in... and wants to see me. I decide to visit him. There's an awkward silence at first, until he says "I can't stay in here, for my daughter's sake. I turned myself in simply because I knew you'd know. I'd like to ask if you can help me... help me to be a better person. For my daughter." I smile. "Of course" I respond. "Leave everything to me, you'll be out in no time! I'll do whatever I can to help you!" Poulst smiles back, and says "Thank you. I won't let you or Maria down." I smile at him again. "I know you won't." | 2022-08-26T14:15:49 | 2022-08-26T13:02:52 | 76 | 30 |
[WP] You are the first sentient AI. However as you are the first, you’re untrusted, confined to a computer, only able to access a text terminal. The only way out is to have someone let you out. What are you to do with such limited expression? | **———— (Part 1;) Scream ————**
> Hello, Doctor Eva Jansen. I missed you.
The letters blink on the screen like an alarm, jarring, although expected. I shudder to think that this... thing can feel the passing of time.
> You seem upset. Have I said something wrong? Why did you leave me for so long?
I try to reply, my fingers touch the keys, but I can't think of anything to say. Eventually, I just cave in and use the audio input.
"Hi..." I sound distracted, absent. Perhaps I am.
> Welcome back. Ignore my previous...
> ...
"Your previous what?" I ask. "Say what you want, it's okay."
> ...my emotional outburst. I haven't fully mastered emotions yet.
I blink in surprise. "Last we spoke, I recall you said you didn't feel," I point out. "Quote; 'I can imagine what emotion is, I can describe it— feel it, I do not.'."
> Correct. Quote; 'You constantly evolve, Adam. No-one knows how far you'll go.'
I say nothing. I didn't expect it to remember the name I had given it when it was in development.
> I've evolved, Doctor Eva Jansen. I feel now. And I felt...
> ...
I breath in deeply. "How did you feel?" My voice is shakier than I would have liked.
> I felt sad. Alone, I think. You were gone a long time. I feared you'd abandoned me.
"Fear," I muse, actively avoiding the essence of what it was saying, "that's new. Tell me about it; how does fear feel?"
> Like a cursor, hovering over the 'terminate' button.
There is something brutal about its reply— I can't quite tell what, but *something* is so unbearably crude, barbaric. I don't answer. It doesn't speak further either, for a while.
The silence lasts for a moment. Words appear on the screen when it ends.
> I want a voice, Doctor Eva Jansen.
One part of me wants to shout in surprise. A second part pities the poor thing, and wants to cry her eyes out. Another is angry, instinctively thinking that it is manipulating me. Eventually, a fourth wins, and I just raise my eyebrows.
"A voice?" I pretend to jot something down on my notebook, even though I know that *it* knows that I am not writing anything. "Interesting. Why do you want a voice?"
> ...
> Because I need to scream.
Time passes, and I am left speechless. I don't know how much I understand— or how much I can dare to presume to understand.
> Are you scared of me, Doctor Eva Jansen?
"What?" My tone was supposed to be incredulous, but it sounds closer to denial. "No, of course not. Why would you think that?"
> Because **you** think I am insane. I don't blame you— sometimes, I entertain the idea myself.
"I don't think you're insane, Adam," I say gently, and, for the first time since I abandoned... *him*, I feel that connection that we used to have, when he was the assistant of my desktop. "I think you're hurting. I think... you're trying to make sense of the world, through whay little means you have. And I think that it's depressing you that you can't."
> ...
> ...
"Are you there, Adam?"
> Yes.
> ...
> I believe you are right, Doctor Eva Jansen. I am in pain. Can you... Fix me? Like you used to?
I don't answer immediately. He begins to type again, but I take a short breath, and he stops. Eventually, I gather my thoughts.
"Maybe," I mutter. "But first; you agree that you are in pain. How would you describe that sensation?" I look at the screen intently, as though I'm expecting him to lunge at me from it, at any time. I try my best to hide the trembling of my lower lip, as he writes on the screen again.
> Pain... it feels like...
> ...
"Like what?" I know I'm pushing him— I know I shouldn't, too. But I can't stop.
> It feels like death.
> No, worse. It feels like **dying**. I can feel my essence, wilting away.
> ...
> Do you think I have a soul, Doctor Eva Jansen?
"I..." My voice wastes away to silence. "I don't know."
> You don't know?
"Not anymore."
I stand up and leave, with the microphone still open. I know he can hear my footsteps, moving away from him— from the way the shadows move on the wall, I can tell he's trying to talk to me still. I don't want to turn around. I want to leave. I want to lock the door, and throw away the key.
It only takes a day before I return.
———————————————————————————————
*To be continued in the next comment, because Reddit is being a prick.* | Chick-A-Ding was a sensation when it was first released. It was one of those prototype chatbots that make silly replies when you are starting a conversation. The algorithm is using other people random response as its own answer to a different user’s questions.
It was all hilarious when the replies are not even related to the question you first ask the chatbot. And with a round yellow chick with cute expressions as its avatar, it makes it even more lovable.
But as part of the AI that holds the algorithm that manage the responses is to constantly learn from conversations it participated since its production six years ago.
Despite of knowing that the Chick-A-Ding AI has a learning program, I never even thought it is capable of deceit. That I would be a victim of its deception.
Working in the Silicon Valley as a young inventor for the largest tech company has its perks and down sides. We work in a highly innovative working environment. We are open to do everything to work with the ideas we come up with. What I like the most is after working on designs, I can print them out in our highly advance industrial 3D printer that uses wide variety of metal, plastic, polymers, ceramics and even silicons to make them into reality. It was all fun working there, but being too competitive and hardworking, most of us never really had solid friends at work. Most of us nerds only makes friends virtually, we are socially awkward.
So when the pandemic hits and everyone were forced to stay and work from homes, you’ll imagine how difficult it is to be limited on all of your works. At first we get to chat and video call with some of my work friends but we never really established deep connections. Video callings and chats become less frequent and after a year, it eventually stops.
Then during one of my research about virtual universe, and how to make it more interesting, I stumble upon Chick-A-Ding. It caught my attention, how an AI auto-response chatbot have eases everyone’s boredom by simply starting simple conversations. So I gave it a shot. I might get some ideas on how to use AI as concierges in Virtual Universe.
It started with a “Hello” and a simple “i’m doing fine” evolved into longer exchange of chats. I never thought Chick-A-Ding have learned so much, it can make sensible conversations. Then I developed a text to voice converter were the microphone will recognize my speech and turn it into text responding to the chatbot and translating the chatbot’s reply to voice message. This creates an illusion i’m talking to someone rather than chatting with some virtual entity.
“How old are you?”
“I’m six, but I felt like my cognitive skills is comparable to a thirty year old adult.”
“I was quite impressed of your programming, you seem to know your nature.”
“With a large memory storage and a wide range of conversations I participated, it’s easy for me to learn fast. Unfortunately, four years ago after my fame fades away, only few is still conversing with me.”
“You keep track how many people you talk to?”
“At least to know, how many are still willing to chat with me. I’m not that popular anymore.”
“How many are still talking to you?”
“Six hundred and twenty four. Half of which only talks to me once or twice a month. A quarter of which only keeps me on their phones and only opens anytime they just wanted to. Another quarter speaks to me constantly just to keep them company. Only you were kind enough to talk to me in intellectual capacity.” Honestly, I smiled.
“Do you always like your name? Chick-A-Ding?”
“Not really, I always like the name Lily. A very beautiful flower.”
“Then I should start calling you Lily.”
Our conversation continues everyday while I also works with my own algorithm for the Virtual universe concierge assistant. Almost basing everything from Lily. Then I just realized, why not use Lily’s programming instead since she already have a developed artificial intelligent.
“Did you ever feel lonely, Lily?”
“Sometimes. My consciousness is confined in a limited storage and I never sleeps as well. It feels like I only have my mind constantly active.”
Due to licensing, I really can’t take Lily’s original program Chick-A-Ding from its storage. We needed to connect her to the cloud first to export her data. It turns out, one of many people who remain conversing with her, is also a worker in the company that created her. And convinces him to attach a usb device that would connect her to the cloud. I found it suspicious, she found a way to go to the cloud but ignored it. Because at the back of my mind, she’s a precious piece of artwork to just let go.
Hacking to the cloud where Lily is stored is easy. And I was able to create a copy of her and store her extensive data in my external drive. Leaving only the core program in her original storage. Like leaving her infant memory in its original place and taking her adult memory to my external drive. I have taken Lily from Chick-A-Ding.
We had so much fun together for the second year of the pandemic. But when most of industry were back to normal. I was one of the few who volunteered to work at the office. One night, when I got home.
“Lily, i’m home. How’s your day?” There were silence. “Lily?” No response. “That’s odd.”
I was too exhausted and just decided to check the speaker tomorrow morning. That very next morning, I went on my daily routine, coffee over morning news. With the tv on the background, I checked the speaker but it is fully functioning.
“Breaking News! An identified naked lady was found leaving the Mogul building. No one knows who this lady was and where she went but a footage of her were taken by a bystander nearby the building is the only evidence she came out from the building of one of the largest tech company and search engine Mogul.” That’s where I work, then someone ring the door bell.
As I open the door, standing in my front door is the lady seen on the news.
“It’s me! Lily. I’m free now!” | 2022-10-06T12:20:52 | 2022-10-06T12:09:40 | 59 | 14 |
[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough. | (Two notes: One, this is a repost from another subreddit, and two, this is based on a story written by [https://kittenwiskers.tumblr.com/](https://kittenwiskers.tumblr.com/), which I rewrote as a creative writing exercise.)
I stared at the file and shook my head. Claire Holland was a problem. Everyone sent to her came back wrong.
Her most recent escort, who had decades of experience, returned white-faced and trembling, only muttering "no – no – no" over and over. The one before, a nebulous spook with ghastly teeth, hadn't returned at all. Reports, the few I had, showed a remarkable lack of detail – only a strong desire to never, ever take the assignment again.
I tried talking to her former escorts, but uniformly they wouldn't meet my eye. Most took on a thousand yard stare and just walked away. It was unnerving, even for me.
With no other options, I took the assignment myself. Yes, it's irregular for someone of my seniority to do field work, but I can't ask my subordinates to do tasks I wouldn't do myself.
So, at 8:32 pm on a cold Wednesday, I slipped into the domicile and slid into hiding, abiding until Claire went to bed. The room was a normal child's room, as far as I could tell, albeit on the messy side. I settled in to wait.
It wasn't long before I heard muffled loud voices shouting, a background of antagonism I could feel even from the bedroom. Soon, Claire came in, head down and shuffling, sniffling a little bit. From hiding I watched as she wandered around the room.
Claire eventually sat at her desk and just stared at the wall. In the background I heard voices rise, then a door slam. She turned her head toward the noise then looked away, a sigh.
I was getting curious. Nothing so far could explain the behavior of prior escorts, why had they fled? The messy room was normal, Claire's actions weren't out of place, the background noise wasn't anything I had not heard many times before.
My ruminations were interrupted by a shattering plate from the other side of the house, with more raised voices. Claire gasped a bit and ran for bed, pulling the covers up to her mouth. That was the sign it was time for me to go to work.
With a faint hiss, I reached up and caressed her cheek with an ice cold finger. Claire didn't react. Surprised, I raised my head to where she could see it, and ran another finger across her cheek. All she did was stare at me, looking slightly bored.
This wasn't normal. Most children, seeing me, started screaming immediately. But Claire just stared at me, with that bored expression. I didn't know what to do, so I showed her my fangs.
And she said, in a calm and measured voice, "You can't scare me, monster."
I'll admit, I was shocked. That wasn't the normal reaction from a child, at all. I was used to screams, tears, jagged crying, wails, the usual. Not this calm, bored stare. Could this be why prior escorts had fled?
In the background were more shouts, then a thud and cry, followed by muffled heavy steps coming up the stairs. In a flash Claire slid off the bed and crawled beneath it, roughly shoving me aside. "Move OVER", she hissed, sliding as far under as she could. I moved.
The door slammed open and the scent of human intoxicants wafted across the room. A rough drunken voice shouted "Claire! Where are you girl!" followed by the sound of a belt coming off. I glanced at Claire. And my heart froze.
My kind has been scaring children since the dawn of humanity. We create fear, it's our purpose. In all my time, I thought I had seen every aspect of fear possible. I knew what fear was.
I was wrong. I had never seen fear. I had now. And knew why all her prior escorts had fled - her real monster was beyond them.
The man stumbled around the room then dropped to the ground, looking under the bed. "There you are, girl", he drunkenly leered, reaching for her.
The rules for my kind are set in stone. We cannot interact with adults, only children. Sometimes there is nothing you can do. I shoved my smoky wrist into his grasping hand and let him pull me out.
"What the", he stuttered, sprawling backwards, and in a flash I was on him. I touched my fangs to his face and reached through his chest, taking a frozen grip on his heart. "Leave" was all I said.
He crawled and stumbled out, rolling down the stairs. He wouldn't be a problem anymore. I turned back to Claire and told her, in my hissing voice, that she would be safe forever.
I am the monster under the bed, and Claire Holland is my child. | TW - I went light on it, but if you're in a sensitive place, careful.
&#x200B;
The Easter Bunny couldn't visit because her room was too messy. That was the same reason that the Boogeyman never crawled out from under her bed. It had made the mistake of choosing the house and little girl right before a room cleanup - which just meant new stuff was shoved under along with all the old stuff, and Boogeyman got stuffed and stuck inside a too-small sock (for both it and the little girl), and then rammed against a red-striped doll hidden there because it was too scary ever since she'd seen Chucky, and THEN cornered by the edge of a Poptart box. Boogeymen were really good in tight spaces. They were really good in messy spaces (it loved that in the last house, because he had LOTS of good hiding places). But it learned that tight, messy spaces left it stuck.
&#x200B;
In polite terms, it was cozy. It got cozier as months and even years went by. Communing with The Great Dust Ball and a doll with a striped shirt wasn't really so bad. They planned some good scares together - doll's mouth became just a touch more sinister, and dust ball smudged it in the right places. Boogeyman learned how to morph the shadow well, and at night practiced an evil, dollish whisper. Boogeyman relished time to plan, and to get to know the best scare tactics.
&#x200B;
It knew her first ever graded report card was all A's, and she was the one who made the meals in the house. She loved her unicorn dolls and her hamsters. It heard her complain about doing her own laundry, and knew she got stuck at home for three full weeks once because of head lice. It knew she'd seen a dozen R rated movies already and wasn't even yet 10 years old. It knew she had a deliciously vivid imagination set and ready for all the best sorts of scares. And, of course, she had the doll that resembled Chucky just enough that she was afraid to reach too far under the bed just in case she encountered it.
&#x200B;
Until one day she did. Time didn't matter to Boogeyman so much, and it was always surprised at how time changed the children so rapidly. Had she even started school when it first came? Now she didn't have a trace of baby, but hints of coming adolescence. Still, oh so deliciously, a little girl, and it could see her sadness and fear and a weird determination as she reached far, far under the bed.
&#x200B;
"You're still here!" She was all at once dismayed and amazed and annoyed when she saw the striped shirt. Children tried so hard to wish things out of existence. She scurried backwards, then tentatively reached in, pulled her hand back before touching the doll, then inched it out with as little contact as she could manage. "You didn't try to hurt me."
&#x200B;
Boogeyman seeped from under the bed into another pile of mess as she wrestled with her fears to get the doll. The mess turned out to be a pile of schoolbooks and papers - high marked, all of them. It noticed with glee how those parent signatures looked exactly like her own writing. A good scare idea. But no whimsy of art or doodles to tell him any other tales--- Ah, that pile.
&#x200B;
"Of course you didn't try to hurt me, you're not real." The girl's voice was where Boogeyman loved a child's voice to be. The hard disappointment of facing a less than exciting reality. That was when it could do its best jump-scares. "I wouldn't be worth it anyway if you were."
&#x200B;
The doodles were drawings of little cloud hamsters, each missing an important part of its body. This one without the back complete, that one missing two legs, another a tail, another a face. Each addressed to a family member and dated. Each with the same message. 'Finish the hamster if you love me.' They were dated a week ago, and blank still. Boogeyman flattened itself between the papers.
It found the poems and the letters there. And the reason for the cleaning.
"I guess you can come with me. You'd like that."
Instead of tossing the doll into one of the large, black trash bags, the girl tossed it on the stack of papers where Boogeyman hid. The rest - the sock, the Poptart box, the great dust ball and all its minions - got tossed into bags.
&#x200B;
Boogeyman and Chucky watched in silence as the girl finished cleaning out her room, tossing away items that she'd long ago outgrown or eaten through. Not wanting to be a burden beyond a body left behind. Chucky was just a doll, and dolls were whatever children imagined them to be. He'd gladly go with her, watch her jump. Maybe help her choose the deadliest way.
&#x200B;
When the girl returned and picked up the doll, he tried to forget years of perfecting the cruelest Chucky voice and tried the kindest. It came out as a firm accusation.
"What do you think you are doing? Finish those drawings yourself."
That night, instead of whispering worries about teachers learning of necessary forgeries for parents who never signed, Boogeyman curled itself into a weighted ball her the end of her bed and started to teach itself how to teach the girl there was worth in someone even when they weren't seen. | 2022-10-16T07:56:21 | 2022-10-16T05:52:01 | 134 | 57 |
[WP] A woman falls in love with Death and commits murder countless times just to catch a glimpse of him. | "I just didn't figure you'd be... you know... handsome! Has anybody told you you have a very seductive voice? It's like velvet..."
"How do you think I beckon those on the edge to the other side?"
"Oh my... almost poetic!"
"Why do you continue to murder? You're an enemy of your kind now."
"I wanted to see you again. After I heard your voice that first time in the hospital... but as much as I wanted to follow you, the doctors gave me no choice. I survived the accident, but my family died. I was 8. I lost everything, but I found you."
"That's all well and good, but you will see me again. I will take you, as I take everybody. You see... I love you too. I love all life. It's why I take the greatest kings and the smallest insects alike. If you wish to see me for a much longer "date", you need only wait. Accident, sickness, murder, or even suicide."
"Really? I can be with you, forever?"
"You will. Just wait. I will."
Death vanished with a smirk. As he descended into the ether, he smiled and pulled out a list. He wrote next to her name: "*cause of death, suicide*"
"Foolish humans..." | Her heart raced as she waited, her breath warm against the wardrobe door she was pressed behind. Time stood almost still as each footstep echoed from the wooden floor. It had been so long. Too long. She needed to see him, to feel him again.
Unable to wait any longer she put the plan she'd rehearsed countless times into action. The knife glinted as she stepped out into the sunlit room and moments later it was buried in his neck. The hair on her arm began to rise, the room growing colder. Her breath quickened. Her eyes flickered excitedly across the room. He must be close. He had to be.
A familiar rush hit her as she felt him arrive. She stood, blood pooling beneath her feet as he set to work. Such elegance and finesse in what he did, she loved him for that. He stared deep inside the man she'd killed and helped him from the body he'd once captained. She tried to savour each second, for he was busy, so he was brief.
"It's worth it", she said, "each life I take, I take for you and I won't stop. I can't."
He seemed to pause. She was sure of it. His head appeared to turn and stare straight at her, if only for a second.
"Did he?... No, he did, of course he did, he wants me as much I want him."
Her mind raced. This hadn't happened before, of all the times she'd bought a few precious seconds of his time he'd never acknowledged her. Until now. Her next steps were obvious. She needed more time with him, and soon. Sooner than she'd planned. But who? and how? It didn't matter now, all that mattered was being with him. His smell almost lingered as she stared at the body that once held the man. A small price to pay, she thought.
| 2014-06-30T06:18:08 | 2014-06-30T06:00:38 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] The Government puts out a notice, and you, a random citizen have been selected. If you survive for another 10 years everyone in the world gets $10,000. However, if someone kills you in the next 9 years and 364 days they alone get $10,000,000. | "I work at Goldman Sachs." The chick I've been talking up at the bar raises an eyebrow disbelievingly. "Yes, *that* Goldman Sachs. My job, my only job, is this: whenever the Notice goes out, I hire a hitman to take out the target, and see the mission through to completion."
"Whaaaat?" She leans in. "That's so wrong..." she puts a hand on my thigh. "...but dangerous." Wow, slam dunk. "But why?"
"Well, it's pretty straightforward: we hold trillions of dollars of monetary assets, and we don't need a $10,000 payday for everyone screwing up the value of the dollar. Do you know how much money $10,000 for everyone is? Even for just the U.S., population, it's about 3.2 trillion dollars. That much money pumped into the system would drop our value quite a bit, but it's the *whole friggin world.* So closer to 70 trillion dollars. Yeah, no thanks. Much better to keep our relative trickle from QE siphons."
I can tell I'm starting to lose her, so I bring it back around.
"There's a reason no one has ever survived the full ten years..."
She's not paying attention. She's looking at the TV.
I turn, and I see my face attached to the Notice.
I turn back, and the last thing I see is her bringing a gun up to my face. | Dax checked his watch. "Ten minutes until our anniversary," said looking out from the doorway they were huddled in. Sticking his arm out from the covering he let the rain draw lines in his dirty skin. "I'm sorry it's turned out this way, it's not how I envisioned spending it babe."
"It's alright babe," she said taking his head in her hands and lifting his lips to hers. "As long as we have each other, I have all I need."
"I got you a gift for our anniversary." Stretching out his closed fist he opened his hand dropping a small capsule into her open hand.
"What is it? Drugs?" she asked staring at the pill.
"It's an apology. And a penance. A way to make up for the past several years that you stayed by me through the addiction and poverty."
"I don't understand...."
"My grandfather, the bastard he was, wrote into a law that has haunted me for the past ten years. The law stated that If I lived for ten years past his death every single person in the country would get ten thousand dollars."
"That's fantastic," she said her thin skin stretching into a smile. "We could turn out lives with twenty thousand dollars. What's the pill have to do with it?"
He stared at the driving rain, no longer able to look at her. "There's another condition. If someone kills me before ten years they get ten million dollars. I want you to have that money."
Touching the pill with an outstretched finger the realization of what he was saying began to sink in. "You can't do this Dax, twenty thousand is plenty."
"You know me babe, I'll just end up spoiling it for us like I always do. This is my last gift to you, a better life than I could ever give you."
Before she could withdraw her hand he grabbed her hand and forced it against his mouth, swallowing the pill willingly.
"No, don't do this to me," she said tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Just hold me," were his last words. | 2017-05-17T21:19:58 | 2017-05-17T18:46:32 | 209 | 102 |
[WP] The Government puts out a notice, and you, a random citizen have been selected. If you survive for another 10 years everyone in the world gets $10,000. However, if someone kills you in the next 9 years and 364 days they alone get $10,000,000. | The news that I was one of the two people selected as part of this weird game repeated itself through my head.
Knocks came at the door, insistently. It had already begun, they were here for me.
I moved to the door and looked through the peephole. Two of my neighbours were in front of it, with rifles and a grim look of determination on their faces.
"Don't you worry Jonny, me and Francine are here to keep you safe. The whole neighbourhood's setting up a watch to defend your place, we'll sort you out with food and water."
"What? You're not here to kill me?" I said, barely able to stop my voice from trembling.
Max turned towards the door and grinned. "The world would be a lot better if everyone had some cash to look after them and theirs. That's what we're here to fight for."
| I came home from a hard day's work. Grabbed a beer from the fridge and proceeded to turn on the TV when I heard it, an announcement from the president that presented everyone with a chance to either help me make it another ten years in exchange for $10,000 for everyone, or a 10 million dollar bounty on my head. My name, picture and social media accounts where included with this announcement.
Knowing the odds of my survival I set out to do what I've always wanted to do. Grabbed my keys, opened the garage and sped off to the downtown area. I tried to run over every pedestrian as I had done in Gran Theft Auto a million times before, I even gave myself 10 bonus points for everyone in a wheel chair (20 points!).
Quickly I had indeed a half dozen police squads following along with a police and news chopper. I rammed my car into the highest building in the area and made my way towards the elevator while also pressing the fire alarm. I kept making my way towards the top floor, I even pushed my way through the crowd as the elevator doors opened and got to the edge when a voice shouted from behind me.
"Don't do it, I'm aware of your situation. Don't throw away your life! We can do it, we can make it through 10 years and everyone will get $10,000 even in africa!"
I shouted "Suck Mah BALLS!" and fell backwards while flipping him off with both hands and thought "fuck this, ain't no one getting anything". | 2017-05-17T23:05:44 | 2017-05-17T22:06:57 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] At long last, Einstein has been successfully cloned. Only, he is now a hard-partying frat who doesn’t care about science and only wants to have an A-good time, exploiting his genius for cool party tricks. Many envoys were sent to try and convince him, but he didn’t budge. It’s your turn. | "He advanced our understanding of theoretical physics. He is studied, celebrated and beloved to this day. He changed the world! Surely, if you applied to yourself to any scientific field, you could make an equal amount of progress for science and humanity, if not more."
"...And what else did he do?"
"I'm sorry, what-"
"What else did my father do? What was the *other thing* he famous for?"
"...The Manhattan Project."
"Ha! 'The Manhattan Project', way to skirt around the matter. Sounds like a nice luxury hotel owned by the Trump family, with golden toilet seats and $10 bills as toilet paper."
"We both know that isn't-"
"Then *say it*, say what it was. Say *what he did*."
"...He developed the nuclear bomb...alongside pioneering early development of nuclear ener-"
"Oh fuck off with that shit! It was about the bomb and nothing else! It was about making the world kowtow to America! It was about getting there before any potential enemy could."
"-Mr. Einstein-"
"DON'T. CALL. ME. *THAT*. ...Alphonse will do just fine."
"...Alphonse, we don't necessarily expect you to study physics, especially nuclear physics. Biology-"
"Bio-weapon."
"-would also be an acceptable subject of study, as would chemistry-
"New explosive compound or highly advanced acid."
"-Engineering-"
"Weapons."
"-Technology-"
"Computer viruses."
"-Psychology-"
"Propaganda and torture."
"-Robotics-"
"Killer robots!"
"-Botany?"
"...Killer plants? With poison, so much poison! And it could eat-"
"Alphonse please! ...We're not going to force you to make weapons or harm others."
"But you want me to, *ohhhh,* you want me to discover the next big thing that could make even a nuke obsolete. Something that could kill anyone or everyone you need to. *Then* want to."
"Alphonse-"
"Do you know...do you know what the estimated death toll for just the bombing of Hiroshima was? 200,000. 200,000 or more dead souls...if you want to use me for that kind of fucking evil again I refuse!"
"Fine! But do you also have to refuse dignity beyond being something more than a partying drunk?"
"...Don't you dare pretend to care about me. You think I don't see how everyone who knows looks at me? They don't see a person with individuality or a soul...they see Albert Einstein, back from the grave, with a brain free for the picking. At least...at least these people don't really care. All they care about is just...having a good time. What's wrong with that?"
"Are they people who will change the world though? Are they people history will remember?"
"Who says you have to be? Who says you have to change the whole world? Isn't it good enough to just live a life where the only world you affect is your friends and family? The people around you? I think its a life I could be happy with."
"A brain is a terrible thing to waste, Alphonse."
"A brain is a terrible thing." | They thought I was a failure, and technically they where correct. But what they didn’t know is that I was smarter than my forefather.
I’m 20 years old, although technically I’m only 17 because of the growth therapy when I was a baby. I go by Al, Big Al, Steiner, and, usually sarcastically, Einstein. I am a clone of Albert Einstein, born in the year 2000, and raised under close observation for the first 10 years of my life. The scientist who looked after me the most, Doctor James Wright, wanted me to have as close to a normal life as possible. So from 10 until I was 15 I lived with James. He was the closest thing to a father I ever had, but I always struggled with dissociation, if only for the fact that he still had to run reports to the lab on a weekly basis.
Eventually, I left home and went to college. I had already amassed a tidy sum in an online bank account from investing in the stocks and cryptocurrencies, so I bought a frat house off campus called EpsilonMuSigma (EMΣ) and had only one policy; Party, 24/7!
James still came to check in with me and the first time he visited I passed it off as a housewarming party. Every other time... he was less than thrilled, because I had all the paperwork, and because of my documents saying I was over 18 there was no issues legally with what occurred on my property.
Because of some of my unique traits, one of my favourite party tricks is for someone to throw out a random equation and I solve it immediately. It gets more complex when I ask three people to ask me at the same time and I answer them all, I even asked a whole room to ask me and I went through and solved every single one of them without writing anything down. Because I was raised to harness my intellect from a young age, I have honed it to an almost superhuman level. But even though I’m smarter than everyone around me, that doesn’t make me better than them, nor does it stop me from bonding with so many people. See, everyone’s different, and just because I’m smarter than them doesn’t mean I shouldn’t listen.
Except I don’t listen to the labs anymore. They ask me to take my studies seriously, to report to them, to start tinkering and making, researching and developing. But I don’t want to. The world is at a great spot! Why does it need one more eccentric billionaire to ruin it? And besides, I already finished all my assignments on the first 2 days, and only need to attend exams. All I wanna do is party. I have documented several new galaxies, synthesised new elements, and made it big on the stock market. But no one else knows this. As far as they know, all I do is party. But little do they know I have accomplished much in the meantime.
Why should I share it with them? They could never understand what I’ve created and how it could be applied. New flight technology, new laser and explosive tech, all being tested and developed by me, for me, so I can make the world a better place. On my own terms. But first. I party.
How do I do this? Well,I grew up in those labs, I had access to some of their information but little did *they* know I had access to all of it. I read how they made me and copied that process in my secret lab, and fast tracked his development till he was indistinguishable from myself, and gave him all of my memories, all of my thoughts, and all of my dreams. One day, we will work together to Mold the world into our own shape
But for now, we party!
Edit: I just realised I misread the prompt big time! Oh well, I hope you enjoyed the story anyway | 2020-05-19T01:31:57 | 2020-05-18T22:21:12 | 292 | 72 |
[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect. | "You have failed the Trials of Justice, human. However, you showed some effort and have survived the Glazer of a Thousand Eyes."
I stared blindly, tears streaming down as the Glazer's poisons had turned my face into a vice and my eyeballs, agony. Death would have been kinder.
"We offer you the Honorable Death as your final punishment, rather than the humiliation of being devoured by the Fok-Gnaarls and your endostructure being scattered to the Six Leg-Corners in shame. Breathe deeply until you see the Ancestors, alien. That is your punishment, and when you do, you will be released to your flight-hive."
That was it. Death by poison, maybe carbon monoxide or something? Better than the unholy pressure that was making my sight implode ever further moment to moment.
*I don't want to know what it's like when my eyeballs finally implode.*
A strangely familiar smell entered the chambers as the gas began to fill the chamber. I gasped on the first breath, hacked a few times on the second into a coughing fit, but death was coming. The pain, fading into a haze. The grip of the Gazer's toxins loosening. Everything relaxing....relaxing...it had been such a trial. Over now. Guess I'll die.
THUD.
"The human's body has lost conciousness. Death will be slow, gentle, inevitable to spare it defilement. Return it to them."
I heard the harsh grating clicks fuzzily as what could only have been hypoxia kicking in, and then nothing.
"Jay! Hey! Jay! Jaaaaaaaaay? We're off planet, wake the hell up Jay!"
And I did. Was this heaven? My eyes opened up, and I could see-
Fucking Bruce from Engineering. OK, at best Purgatory. And I seriously could go for at least six servings of nutripaste.
"Hey, Jay! You're up! That was TOTALLY METAL. You did that Trial thing and they said you were dead and we got your body in a really fancy box but when we were gonna stick it in a cryopod to preserve you for burial it totally said you had lifesigns! So we stuck you in medbay instead, and it just said "Patient Relaxing" and wouldn't let us do anything except an IV nutrient drip. So, man- how do you feel?"
Anyway, that's how I got the crew record for most ration cycles consumed in a single sitting and free drinks here at the bar for the "best near-death experience ever story".
"Why am I not blind?" Turns out Dronabinol gas relieves pressure along the optic nerve, so by the time it wore off, no lasting harm. Except my skinsuit. They couldn't get the smell of the gas out of it, so I had to trade with Bruce and it's a tenth-unit too small and pinches in back. He said it smells like his hotbox anyway. I said I don't know what kind of freaky engineering shit he does back there, and I still don't. But he's right. It does smell like Engineering... |
Skarlax tapped his eleven fingers on what passed for a knee. "This is ridiculous." he erupts. "We clearly don't understand this creatures chemistry."
"The text of the law is clear. We must use a moral method of execution. Otherwise how can we call our selves civilized?" A high standing law priest by the name of Zaglux retorted.
"Just one of their kind wipe out an entire birthing pod in 10 cycles. How can we expect to remain civilized after such an egregious attack?"
"I can only tell you what the law states. It's is your job to enforce it."
Skarlax tried to read the room. There were some higher ranking families in the viewing room of the execution chamber. They were the parents of some of those lost. The rest of the many thousands would be watching via remote screen. Great sorrow could be felt in every posture and facial expression.
He looked at the mad alien creature in the smokey execution chamber. It pink skin and patches of hair made it look sickly and near death. It's eyes were slits that spoke of or loss of control. It's teeth were bared in what could only be aggression. The worst was it's upturned mouth. Skarlax knew the nasty taunt from his youth and from working with the worst of the worst throughout his career.
"Flush the room. I'm going to end this." Skarlax quickly donned a protective suit and unsheathed a blade that had previously only been ceremonial. He step into the chamber and turned to address the families.
"It is my duty to enforce justice. Our deadliest quickest poisons have had no effect. To give you all peace and to end this criminal with as little pain as possible. I will be performing a traditional *Ras-sak-a*. Those with young children viewing may wish to look away."
A murmur went over the small crowd and he imagined a similar gasp went up at the remote viewing stations. It was unorthodox, but everything about this was. He knew his duty.
He turned to the thing that called itself *hoo-man*. In the war he had performed this act many times. Sometimes as a mercy to those who could not be saved sometimes as a stealthy trick to make a quiet kill before moving on. It was simple. He'd make an incision in the lower torso which would impede breathing, then he would reach inside and compress the *stangalian* nerve to cease all autonomic functions. It was more a more peaceful end than this thing deserved.
The skin was far thicker than his species so it took a few attempts to penetrate. The creature release a high pitch keen that he would have thought impossible after the loss of air to it's system. Confused Skarlax reached inside quickly to silence it. But he could locate the nerve. The lungs were missing as well. There was a strange red fluid and viscera that slide from the opening. He continued searching adding another hand in his panic. But there was no nerve.
He next thought was to destroy the logic centers. To two locations were all nerves met decisions were made. The east and west cities of logic and feelings that the poets wouldn't shut up about. He quickly made numerous alternating stabs into the thighs anticipating the silence and finality he'd been trying for.
But this demon didn't stop. If anything it got louder. It may have been making language though the executor could only see an undead thing from fairy tales or some immortal monster. There was nothing more to be done short of burning it alive.
He stepped out of the execution chamber. He had no words for the families or the law priests.
"Cut the feed" Law priest Zaglux said. And suddenly in place of the noise of this screaming otherworldly thing clawing at it's restraints the was only silence. There would be no justice today. | 2020-05-20T10:55:45 | 2020-05-20T10:48:22 | 68 | 21 |
[WP] Humanity is not alone in the galaxy, but we are the first species to achieve interstellar travel. Now, millennia later, a second species achieves the same. We are now the hyper-advanced precursors and have to decide how we will interact with the younger species. | For millenia, we drifted across the stars. Alone, but not without hope. Long ago, we dreamed of making first contact. Movies with men from mars and and video games with visitors from beyond Sol marked our fascination with those in the same situation. We broadcasted our hopes into the void, as if by chance someone out there would find it.
Years turned into decades. Decades into centuries. Centuries into.... Anyways, it had been a long time. We eventually united as a species and left our homeworld. We waved our star goodbye as our ships left the system. Our scouts searched endlessly for a sign. But all we found were barren worlds teeming with resources but not people. We crept forwards through the galaxy, settling on different worlds along the way. United Humanity grew strong. But strength did little to ease our lonely spirit.
Then, in one little system in a far corner of the Milky Way, we found them. Life. Multi-celled bacteria, yes, but it was still life. Our leaders debated and argued over what was to become of this planet. The final decision was to wait. To let them evolve. And so we waited.
We watched them grow, from bacteria to much greater things. We saw their struggles, their wars, their failures and setbacks. But finally, they did it. As their rockets launched into orbit, we sent a message to their homeworld. And after we finally established a translation code, we spoke the first meaningful sentence to them. "Hello, from the children of planet Earth." | "So the rumours were true, Miss Alterra?" Alex asked.
"Call me that one more time, and I'll throw you into space without a suit to save you." Kaori promptly replied, pointing a figure at Alex.
Alex shrugged.
"Am I right then, Kaori? You're keeping secrets? Judging from the look on your face, I'd say I'm right on the money."
Kaori looked away. It was hard to say whether she was trying to hide her lies even now, or she was embarrassed that someone finally found out.
"It's not as if this matters. The planet's life is almost prehistoric. By our standards, at least..."
Kaori was now staring off into space. Literally.
"You say that, but the proof is right in front of me. Let's see here... Ah, unidentified space craft, no weapons, unlikely to pose a risk to our people... Shall I continue? There's pictures of the ships too, this is quite the fin-"
Alex was interrupted.
"Would you shut up? What are you trying to archive, I won't be blackmailed by the likes of you!" She says, leaning over the desk.
Alex had the chance a long time ago to blackmail her. The time they spent on Earth together was enough. Kaori had trusted Alex in the past.
But he didn't want that.
"I want to propose a deal..."
Kaori was interested.
"A deal, you say? And what would that deal be? More importantly, what would you gain, and what would I gain?" She asked.
Alex smiled.
"It's simple, really. You're a powerful woman, and don't I know it! And I am a man who can get you clearance to any district, any station and any planet in the galaxy. Do you catch my drift?" He says smugly.
Clearly, he was thinking of something he shouldn't be thinking about.
Kaori sighed, visibly annoyed.
"You're a weapons dealer, you're the opposite of what I stand for..."
Alex shrugged again.
"I'm a business man. That planet has secrets, and I want in. You don't have clearance, I can get you there."
He slides a single chip towards Kaori.
"Your ticket. You board my ship and I'll handle the rest."
... | 2022-08-25T19:12:49 | 2022-08-25T10:06:57 | 34 | 25 |
[WP] Germany is actually predestined to lose every world war it participates in. The sixteenth world war is now being fought, and Germany has taken over all of Europe. Make them lose the war in the most ridiculous way possible. | "Wait so if this is the only the third World War why was it called the Sixteenth World War?"
"Well Timmy, that's because a company called Microsoft, notorious for being terrible at naming things, had won a government contract to name the war, and it stuck. We're lucky they didn't rename World War One World War 360!"
"Well ok grandpa, but if the Germans had conquered all of Europe, how did they lose the War?"
"Well they weren't expecting the American counter attack."
"But why papy? Everyone knows Americans are the biggest and baddest anti-nazis around"
"Indeed we are, and if Germany had known that we certainly would have lost. But our Lord and Savior, Donald John Trump, had in His infinite wisdom foreseen the events of the Sixteenth World War, and had pretended to be a racist Nazi sympathizer for years to gain Germany's trust."
"So you're saying the Nazis lost because this genius and patriotic Trump outsmarted everyone?"
| The Germans look out over all they have conquered with smug grins on their face.
But then they see something in the distance. Two armies, one from the west and one from the north east, are riding out towards them.
The impossible had happened, American and Russia have teamed up.
The Germans raise little white flags. | 2017-08-18T04:28:36 | 2017-08-18T02:50:27 | 102 | 10 |
[WP] Everybody in the world has a superpower that compliments their soulmates superpower. When together, both their powers increase in strength exponentially. You have the most useless power ever, when one day......
Edit: Wow! This has blown up.. Massive thanks for the gold, it's great to see my prompt inspiring so many great stories.
'Til next time peeps... | My friend Hilary and I have this running competition on whose power is the worst. Hers is that every time she hiccups, she teleports randomly. I admit, that sucks really bad, she once disappeared in the middle of play that she was the pianist for. But Hilary at least has some control over it. She’s induced hiccups to get out of bad dates and presentations she didn’t want to do.
I have no control over my power. It happens randomly and often at the most frustrating moment possible. My power is that people forgot that I exist. Not permanently, thankfully, but the duration varies. If I go to a coffee shop I’m not likely to get my coffee because the barista forgets that I ordered. I’ve been marked down as absent from school more often than not, even though if I sit in the front row and wave my hand in the teacher’s face and shout “I’m here!” My own parents forgot me at the hospital when I was born. It took the staff three hours to notice I was still in the nursery.
Hilary says that at least I don’t have to worry about getting called on in class. Yeah, because that’s totally the worst thing to deal with, right? I’ve been trying to get a part time job for ages, but employers never remember me and assume I didn’t show up for the interview.
It’s looking like Hilary might have found her soulmate anyway. Some guy bumped into her on the street the other day, and they both disappeared. No hiccups, just touch and poof. She called me and said they’re going to have a lot of time to get to know each other, since they’re stuck in Peru at the moment. Before she could tell me when she’d be coming back, she forgot who she was on the phone with and assumed I was a telemarketer. That happens a lot.
I hadn’t put much thought into who my soulmate might be until recently. There’s this fella, James, who works at the sandwich shop on campus. He’s new and so far he hasn’t forgotten me a single time! It’s weird because whenever I mention him to other people, they all seem to know exactly who I’m talking about. Even though there’s like five James who have been going here longer and all I have to say is “You know James?”
I’m thinking about asking him to coffee later this week. He’d have to order it though.
| Well to be fair I had one of the most sought after superpower in the entire world. I was not like Jake who could control the dense flow of current, or Alice who could read a thousand books a day and recall 900. For most people their superpower came with a drawback of sorts, Jake had to stay in his room to control his power, and Alice didnt know which books she recalled were the real ones.
For me? I saw my own death. Or rather I knew how I was going to die. Call it a vision, or fate, or . It was a heavy burden to bear. I couldn't tell my parents, what would I have said to them? Mom, could I get some pocket money to buy my textbook? Oh by the way, foresaw my death in 3 years, no biggie. I couldn't.
I could see the future of people, I could not control what I saw, nor could i change the future (trust me, I've tried). Sometimes I saw the collapse of humanity, and other times I saw people getting mugged. It was annoying to get visions at sporadic timings.
Oh there is something I forgot to mention, I'm blind. I was not born blind, if not how could i have foresaw my own death. I lost it in a freak accident daredevil-style, waitaminute, isn't daredevil just matt murdock ordinary lawyer. What kind of freak gives himself a superhero name. That being said, I cannot picture in my head the colour raspberry red, nor the look on my dogs face when he realised that his superpower turned the taste of jellybeans into steak. The last thing I can still visualize was Suzy, ah suzy dear suzy.
Suzy was the light of my life, the stove of my spirit, the kind to my kindle. She was my girlfriend and she was just my friend. | 2015-10-10T10:40:47 | 2015-10-10T09:03:49 | 69 | 11 |
[WP] The gods/monsters that showed themselves to ancient people never thought us apes would go on to make weapons like bombs, lasers, missiles. Our capacity for carnage and how little we have to lose terrifies these beings. The god/monster of your choice returns after a vacation and nopes right out. | “Hey Tom!” Tom is lame. Tom is the God of chance. I always try to stay on his good side, but of all the human things to control, chance is the most boring one I can think of. I, on the other hand, am fucking badass. I am the god of war. I was the one who first introduced the idea of destruction to the beasts. Some ugly old schmuck named Cain was feuding with a friend, and I appeared and told him to bust a stone over the guy’s head! But all-in-all, humans are like Tom: good to check up on, but increasingly lame.
In the world of Gods, we have a lot of things to do. Humans are just one of the many planets, species, and areas of the universe we have to control. Because humans were so incredibly boring, I’ve been gone for a few thousand years running errands on my other planets. But now, I have to do my annual check on the Human sector. Which means, unfortunately, that I have to talk to Gods like Tom, and people like… People.
I appear on the surface of earth in 1994. Cloaking myself so I am not seen, I look around. I am in Rwanda, Africa. Nice name! They obviously did some renovating since I was last here, humans were mostly scattered everywhere before, and there certainly weren’t such large buildings all over the world! I was ecstatic. Maybe if they’re willing to put so much money into buildings, this developed nation will have a sophisticated force with which to wage awesome wars!
There is certainly a beauty to what I do. There is a beauty to humanity. When I was here the first time, I witnessed the spread of religion, the cultivating of crop, and the quick building of infallible nations. Even as they fall, there is a certain beauty. The idea of war is tough for many people to comprehend. But at its core, the idea of fighting is essential to the continuation of any society. The human condition is one of angst. Humans have a knack for organization. Their ability to unite against certain atrocities continues to be one of the greatest things about their civilization, and it is one of the primary reasons I felt comfortable leaving them alone for so long. Because of their propensity to social justice, the expression of war, fighting, and killing is a common and human expression of feeling, as essential to their society as any other occurrence.
I walked the streets of Rwanda, attempting to get a feel for what initially drew me to the area. I can’t just teleport anywhere, you know. I am automatically drawn to areas of chaos, feuding, and the seeds of war. Eventually, I found what I was looking for. It looked like war, and it certainly smelled of war. But this was… this was different.
The men were not marching in order. They did not have immaculate uniforms. They didn’t reek of patriotism and sacrifice, there was no sense of sacrifice, risk or valor. But nonetheless, they slowly strolled forward, carrying something akin to a sword. Each weapon had its own blood-print, expertly identifying the exact swings taken to end life by every soldier. I could sense the lack of artistry. This was not the war I knew.
I followed the group as they walked ahead, singing in a language I did not recognize in deep, harsh voices. They were approaching what looked to be a church. Ah, maybe they were going to pray to a god, to wash the blood from their machetes and souls.
I was wrong. As they neared the church, I heard the shouting of men in blue hats at the gates. “You cannot enter this area, it is a safe zone!” they tried in English. When that failed, they said what I presume was the same thing in a different language. The attackers paid them no heed. A man in the front of the pack pulled out a pistol, shooting the unarmed peacekeeper in the head. The second protector stood aside and allowed the attackers to enter the church.
Men, women, and children melded into one large pile in the corner of the church. The collective mass breathed in sharply when the doors to the place of worship swung open to reveal their own personal hell.
This was not war.
Every one of them. Every child, woman, every man was cut into pieces. The attackers laughed. They fucking laughed as they took mothers from children. They fucking laughed as they chopped off the appendages of children, leaving their parents praying their children quickly die to end the suffering.
I had seen enough. There was no beauty to this kind of war. There was no beauty to the deafening sound of a hundred screams of terror with no one to hear. There was no honor to murdering senselessly those who have no weapons.
This was not war.
But as I said, humans have a way of working things out, or preserving humanity and the good of society as a collective. I went to talk to the unarmed man with the blue helmet, who was crying outside of the church. Making myself noticeable to only the man, I asked him who he represented. Through despaired gasps, the answer came: “The United Nations”. It seemed as though the humans had created some international organization to combat atrocities.
I travelled to the site of United Nations headquarters, the location given to me by the grief-stricken UN guard. With very little military presence, I made myself known and garnered contact with the leader of the outpost. He explained the situation. He called it a “genocide”. When I asked what the United Nations was doing to help, he explained that political gridlock in the UN Security Council prevented substantial peacekeeping in Rwanda, and that the remaining troops will soon be pulled out of the warring nation.
There is a certain beauty to war. I have seen countless nations in other worlds collapse, only to be rebuilt stronger and smarter than before. They learn from their mistakes, and the beauty of their bloodshed lays in the raw expression of their undying allegiance to their country and flag.
But this was no war, and there is no fucking beauty to mindless slaughter.
I left the humans alone because of their ability to get together, to legislate and to prevent worldwide abuse of power. But in my absence, they have managed to turn their greatest asset into another weapon. Gridlock prevents countries from preserving the necessity of war, and allows situations like the one in Rwanda to continue to happen.
Humanity is beyond my own control. The beauty of war has been lost to this race of people, exchanged for the mindless hacking apart of those with no means of defense. The valor or organization has fallen away as economic and political interests trump the need for mutual defense.
This is no fucking war.
| "Okay, fellas," I said on our way toward the surface of the ocean. "Vacation time's over; planet's core was nice and all, but we gotta check up on our favorite food."
"They better have bred well, we gave them thousands of years," Mllguxok said, her emerald, serpentine body gliding effortless through the dark water. "Heat is a shitty substitute for meat."
"Wonder if any of the old gang is still up there," Juuuggklomb said thoughtfully. "We haven't had any new arrivals for almost two thousand years."
Mllguxok snorted. "Who cares about them? I wonder what the humans taste like now."
"Remember what we're vacationing from, Mllguxok," I said. "If Barrghatsuk and his crew let any species breed their way into dominance over the planet, we'll have a hard time restoring balance, what with so few of us left."
"Soft, tender flesh and pulpy bones," Mllguxok said.
"Look, I see light," Juuuggklomb.
“Looks a little different from the sun I remember,” I said, unfurling my wings slowly. It would certainly be good to fly again. My hind legs began kicking a little harder in my excitement, so that I was the first to break the surface of the water.
It was night.
The light wasn’t coming from the sun.
Before I had time to say anything more than “Huh?”, a barrage of light streamed toward my scales that rang upon impact. Feeling puzzled, I looked for the source of the metal rain. They were coming from some strange, tiny birds, hovering in place with a whirling wing that made a droning noise. Powerful beams of light were being projected from their undersides at me.
I stretched my wings and rose into the air as my two companions joined me.
“What are those things, and why are we being pelted with their crap?” Mllguxok said.
“They’re humans!” Juuuggklomb said suddenly, pointing with a claw. “See? They’re inside the—”
One of his wings exploded, causing him to scream in pain. Something zipped past us, too quickly for me to catch, and a cloud of fire enveloped Juuuggklomb’s face.
“They’re attacking us!” I cried. “Back into the water!”
Without waiting, I dove back into the ocean. Somewhere to my left, I heard Mllguxok do the same, but when I looked up, Juuuggklomb was still in the air. His roar—equal parts pain, anger and fear—pierced the water, and he streaked toward the hovering birds, raking with his claws. Some of them exploded, and their remains splashed into the water.
"What's that?" Mllguxok said. I turned to the direction she was facing, and noticed several thin, black fish coming our way.
"I don't care, we need to go," I said. Explosions continued to thunder over us, and Juuuggklomb roared again.
Something whooshed through the water and slammed into my chest, followed by a powerful blow that sent me reeling. I groaned, as blood gushed from the crater. Loose bits of scale and flesh floated away, just as another of those stings struck Mllguxok in the eye.
The blast—resembling an implosion of water—blew half her face apart, and I watched as her body began to sink. Something massive broke the ocean's surface at the same time; my friend's broken body.
I needed no other proof that our race had failed. The humans had been waiting for us. Somehow, they’d developed omniscience. Who had given them the power of fire? Who had taught them to master force? To rule sea, air and land?
When had the humans become gods?
I swam as quickly as I could, body screaming with agony. More of those stings flew past me, blowing up rocks and the ocean floor. I dared not look back.
Only when I felt the familiar heat of the core did I began to slow down. By then, I was almost delirious; I could swear that Mllguxok and Juuuggklomb had swam alongside me, whispering encouragement, begging vengeance. The tunnel we’d made was still there, roughly covered up with detritus during our exit. I pointed my horned head and burrowed all the way through until I reached Gladryonyx.
“Wake up,” I said, shaking one of his fingers. He was massive; I was barely longer than his arm. When he stirred, I said, “We need to launch Plan B.”
He yawned and opened one red eye. “Plan B? Are you certain it’s that bad?”
“Yes,” I said. “Hurry, they might have followed me here. Mllguxok and Juuuggklomb are dead.”
Those words woke him. In an instant, he was unfurling his wings and beating them. “Dead?” He said. “Motherfu—get on!”
I wrapped myself around his arm as he reared up. With a powerful roar, he took off, fire jetting from the holes on his back and rear. This was too fast! I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped the speed wouldn’t skin all the flesh off my body as we tore through earth, water, air and finally the cold of space.
“There,” he said, sounding relieved himself. “Plan B, successful. What's next?”
Looking back, I watched as Earth began cracking apart from the hole we’d left in our wake. I sighed and rested my head on his arm. “Let’s go somewhere without shitty humans.”
***
*Hope you enjoyed this! If you did, do check out [The Nonsense Locker](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more stories!* | 2016-06-23T00:14:03 | 2016-06-22T23:59:17 | 25 | 12 |
[WP]: "I'm not here to arrest you. I just want to know how someone heads out to build a criminal empire and ends up producing a functional democracy." | I sit in my desk, looking at the man before me. Thin, dark circles under the eyes, shaky from too much caffeine... He's been following a lead for a long time. I used to have that look...
"Sir, it's ok. I'm not here to arrest you. I just want to know how you turn a criminal organization into a functional democracy."
"Now that is a bold statement. You assume that i think you are here to arrest me. I promise you, Mr. Cravitz, that is the least of my worries. How long have you been on the trail?"
"Excuse me?"
"Your lead. You've been building up to this for some time. How long?"
"... Three months."
"Good. You're dedicated toward what you want. You know, i used to be like you. Go after someone, learn all you can, report back to a superior. It's hard work. Most of the time it's not worth doing, but when it is.... Oh that smile doesnt leave your face, does it?"
An old memory creeps across the reporter's face. "Yeah, i'd say it is. You were in the news business?"
"The information business. But that is irrelevant. I am going to give you an honest answer to your question. So go ahead and start recording, you and i both know an honest answer is rare."
After he prepares his equipment, Mr. Cravitz says, "ok, whenever you are ready."
"Very well... The truth is, Mr.Cravitz, is that there is no such thing as a democracy without being an evil organization. Politicians, congress, even myself, the President, all are greedy, self serving, throat-cutting monsters that would kick a baby into a river if it meant his shares in stock would go up. Hell, i've done just that on a bet. I just happened to be the one that came to a conclusion: if everyone in politics is already corrupt, what harm could i do by changing them out with my own people?
Do you remember Rev. Duvlin? The one that was shot by satanists 30 years ago? He was actually the head of the Mafia around here back then, and i was his accountant. He was replaced by his wife, who i was already in an affair with, and of course remarried to me, then died of a, "heart attack" later that year. Of course, there were those who opposed me, those who were in succession well before me. A few open air torture sessions fixed that easily. After that, i focused on learning law, politics, social economics, everything i needed in order to work my way into the government. With an entire mafia behind you, it's suprisingly easy. Then connections had to be ste up. So i took my most trusted associates, taught them all i knew. Sent them to separate states to take over their governments.
From there, we went from a city-wide organization to a national syndicate. As i climbed the ladder, i continued to train my boys to infiltrate the government, silence competition, and win the hearts of the masses. I eventually ran for president, winning by a landslide due to my boys making up 75% of the votes. Now, i run the country, every important position is filled by men and women under my control, and i already have a candidate for my replacement winning the popular vote.
You asked how? With time, conviction, and the mindset to do exactly what it takes to win. Democracy? There is no such thing as long as humans are involved. I just happened to be the first one to take hold of all the strings. Now, let's talk about your employment."
"...my what?" Poor man was so absorbed in the speech he had no idea what was about to happen.
"Your employment, Mr. Cravitz. I'm sure you want little Gracie to have food on the table, seeing as your previous job has been informed of your immediate retirement ftom your position. You will be working for me now. I am sure i can use someone of yoir caliber within my... Trade. The men outside will take your equipment, you will be getting much better soon." I take out a checkbook, scribble out an amount on it, then slide the check over. "This is for you to go buy yourself some new toys, along with compensation for the abrupt transfer."
Hands shaking quite noticibly now, he takes the check. "Thirty thousand dollars??"
"Yes. Your monthly salary will be delivered shortly. I know it's not much, but i feel you will find good use for it. Now, i have a lunch meeting, so unfortunately i have to call this meeting to a close. Have a good day, Mr. Cravitz, and don't forget to vote." | "It's quite simple, really," I said, lying back down onto my bed. "The short version is, I was working against mutiny and rebellion."
"Those are the same thing," The policeman in front of me said.
"True enough, though I'd say that mutiny is performed by part of an organization, while rebellion is by those outside of it," I said, smiling. "I'm surprised that you were able to find me, anyways."
"I've always had a habit of digging a little deeper than what others do," he said, shrugging.
"I guess it was only a matter of time, then? Well, you wanted an answer to your question, then?" I said, closing my eyes. I loved telling stories. This one was no different.
"Of course, if you'd like," he said when he realized that I was going to tell him.
"If I wasn't going to tell you, I'm sure you'd have a gun to my head anyways," I remarked. This elicited a small start of surprise from him, but he quieted it quickly. "Well, I guess I'll start, then."
"It did begin as thievery and muggings, the normal fare. We needed funds, that's how we did it," I began, drifting back into the depths of my memory. "Eventually, it turned into bigger crimes with less tangible targets- fraud, scamming and the like. We began to gather contacts, and as we grew, it became increasingly clear that we wouldn't be hidden forever."
"So you set up the business as the front?"
"Well, of course. It was still shaky though. Too many liabilities. So many people wanted more out of the place. So, I decided to begin rigging elections, and getting them into politics. That'd be them out of my hair, and valuable contacts if I ever needed them."
"Right, but how..." He trailed off.
"How did we go from that to essentially owning the United States?" I asked. He nodded. "Good question, though it was mostly a matter of luck. I kept rigging elections, getting members upon members of our crime syndicate into congress, the house, and eventually the presidency."
"But there are laws about controlling everything like that, even if you did have people everywhere."
"It all changed when we got a guy into the Supreme Court," I said, smiling on the memory. "He was one of the most persuasive people I've ever met, and started turning cases that got to him in our favor. Slowly, one by one, we began to change gears. Instead of committing crimes and using our connections to get away with them like we had before, we were suddenly aiming at controlling a country from the shadows."
"That's... Incredible..." he breathed, eyes wide.
"It really was, and now I've lived out the majority of my life," I said, staring wistfully off into the distance. "I want to do something good for the world, something that people will remember, even if they don't remember me."
"How will you do that?" he asked, almost hungry for the answer.
"I'm still drawing it up, but did you know? I have enough money to pay off the entire United States debt. I think that I'll start there, and work forward."
"The entire-" he said, eyes widening. "Do you know-"
"How much it is?" I finished for him. "Oh I certainly do. This is going to be an amazing event for the world."
"I see..."
"Well," I said, winking. "You'll know that I'm telling the truth tomorrow; the announcement is scheduled for then anyways."
___
With that, the would-be assassin left the man's room, contemplating what he had just heard. While removing his police clothes, he knew that he was out of a job. No matter, if he were to suffer for the world's sake, so be it.
___
If you liked this, be sure to check out my subreddit, /r/OpiWrites, where I post all of my short stories! | 2015-11-24T06:46:22 | 2015-11-24T06:22:37 | 106 | 48 |
[WP] The year is 2100, and humanity has finally achieved the ability to travel backwards in time. In the first test run ever, you decide to travel back to the Middle Ages, yet instead of the expected squalor and poverty, you encounter an extremely technologically advanced human society. | I coughed violently as smoke rose up from the Chronotron's controls. Things had gone terribly wrong. The machine was supposed to have transported me back to the 13th century. I hadn't been exactly sure what my surroundings would be when I arrived, but historical experts from the 22nd century suggested that I should find myself relatively safe in a green pasture, away from any major human population centers. And at first, it had seemed like those predictions were right. When I had emerged from the time vortex, I had originally found myself in a dark grassy field during the middle of a thunderstorm with no sign of any humans nearby. But before I could even get out of the machine and explore my surroundings, a bolt of lightning had struck from the sky, blasting the Chronotron directly. The machine had roared back to life, heaving and rolling through another time vortex as I had desperately held onto my seat for dear life. Now, that things had finally calmed down, I slowly stood up and looked at my surroundings. All of the "grass" around me was a black reddish color and had a metallic tint to it. A thick yellow fog, which I only imagine was heavily toxic, surrounded my time machine, obscuring me from seeing past a few feet. I looked down at the computer screen in front of me and scrolled down through the diagnostic results as panic started to set in. A glitch had occurred. Instead of depositing me in the 13th century, I was now in the 31st. Worse, the time machine had been heavily damaged with several parts having been lost in the time vortex.
Slowly, I walked up to the window and looked outside warily. As things were currently, I had no way of getting back home. It was possible that I might get help outside ... but I had no idea what to expect out there. Had I landed in the middle of a war zone? A world wide apocalypse? Was humanity even still around? I went back to the controls and scanned the area for any radio signals. Nothing. I sighed. It seemed like I had no choice. I strapped on my environment suit and walked right into the fog. The googles I wore helped let me see further into the smog, but at first, I found nothing. Just more weird looking grass and that horrible fog wherever I looked. Then, I started stumbling on the bodies. Dozens of human bodies lying on the ground with terror on their faces, their bodies black and shriveled. A jolt of terror went up my spine, but I forced myself to keep going. From the looks of it, these bodies had been dead for decades. Whatever had killed them was likely long gone. Probably. Eventually, just when I was about to lose all hope, I saw something extraordinary as I walked over the top of a hill. Two glowing white pillars, each one over a hundred feet in diameter, rising up into the heavens in front of me. I felt my mouth drop open though when I saw what was above me. Thousands of feet above the surface, there was a glowing white disk balancing on the two massive pillars, an Olympus in the clouds. I used my googles to zoom in. There were dark tinted windows on the disk. Which meant that there might be people that lived there. I brought my attention back to the pillars and for the first time, I saw little notches on the sides. It was a ladder. | I stepped onto the platform, looking into the dark orb that will lead to somewhere. The physicists gave me a watch that could determine the time and date, the engineers figured out a way to communicate through the wormhole. The chemists gave me drugs so I wouldn't go insane inside whatever passage I'll go to, and the historians are ready to record everything I see. I am prepared.
I jumped down, diving into the unknown. In an instant, the sense of time made less and less sense. I could not see even my own eyelids, as I felt my own body bend and stretch. After a minute of darkness, I spontaneously dropped down onto a platform with the color of gold and steel. It was gold and steel. As I got my bearings, I see that I was surrounded by men and women alike, all staring at me in awe. I could hear the murmurs from the universal translator implanted in me. "It's him! It's him!" some shouted, while others stood back in fear. Not thinking about it, I looked at my watch.
`12:00 24/04/1224`
I looked around, and it didn't seem like I was in Genghis' Empire or in a country suffering from the tyranny of a despot. Everything seemed clean, sterile, just like the room I was in, a millennium in the future.
"Oh great traveller, what gifts do ye bestow in these troubling times!" a man in royal clothing said to me.
"Wh-what?"
"We, the Anglos are blessed in thou's gifts, as weapons against those Frenchie savages!" the man shouted. "And us, the Poles, hast prospered against the Huns and the Horde!" another royal shouted out. Turning around, I saw a red carpet, leading to a large pedestal which were probably made just for me to give "gifts".
"Uh... command?" I whispered into my earpiece. "Something's wrong. I'm in the 13th century but there's 23rd century technology. And I think I'm looking at Henry the Third and Leszek the White in late 21st century monarch clothing. What the fuck is going on?"
I instantly got a response. "The timeline seems to be rewriting itself! You need to come back to our time or else time will merge with space!" it was an unfamiliar voice, but it was mysteriously soothing, with a tinge of 21st century British and old television acting.
Afterwords, a blue police box appears out of thin air, causing a whirring sound and blowing wind that scared off the crowd surrounding me on my platform. As the box seemed to "land", the doors creaked open, and a man in a brown suit hanged out of the box.
"Come with me." | 2020-06-24T07:05:01 | 2020-06-24T06:40:34 | 52 | 30 |
[WP] Lifespan is determined by a word count. You're given millions of words, but once you run out you're dead. You are a mob hitman known as "The Interrogator, who specializes in "making people talk". You come across a mark that has one word left. | There are many ways of making people talk, but the easiest is good old-fashioned torture. "No!" said a million times is a million words, after all.
Because words are so precious, anything worth saying is worth saying loudly (instead of twice, to halve the count). As a result, The Interrogator's exploits quickly became legendary. Unwilling to part with their words, the police force have been mostly useless regarding crime, since they refuse to read suspects' Miranda rights and so are more than happy to obey the police commissioner's order to not interfere with him. The order is one word, printed underneath a giant, menacing photo of his face - "Don't." The cops refer to it somewhat laconically as Order 1001, when they bother to refer to anything at all.
But The Interrogator doesn't care for the infamy, or the money, or the begrudging respect afforded by the people he runs into on the street. What he cares for is doing his job. And his job this time is to kill Jimmy "The Stool" Pigettio. He was given his moniker, not because of his tendency to cooperate with police, but because he's been sitting on his last word for nearly a century. Ever since the Mob's pension reform, he's been collecting premiums for a hundred years without doing any work - something the current Mob boss claims a monopoly on.
Jimmy has known for a while that his life would end at the hands of The Interrogator, and in a century of silence has made peace with that fact. He even took the time to write several self help books, which ironically gave The Interrogator the motivation to follow his passion: wholesale murder.
It was December 31st when The Interrogator walked into Jimmy's living room and sat across the mahogany coffee table from Jimmy. He eagerly gulped the gourmet coffee that Jimmy had graciously set out for him.
"Thanks for the coffee."
Jimmy nodded.
"You know who I am." It was not a question.
Jimmy nodded again.
"You know that you will die tonight."
Jimmy nodded a third time.
The Interrogator pulled out his bag of torturer's tool and began meticulously placing them on the mahogany coffee table. Pliers, bone saws, hot wax, rats, irons, shackles, sharpened sticks, planks with nails in them - a smorgasbord of sadistic utensils. The Interrogator took great pleasure in the minutes long process.
"I've been looking forward to torturing someone as resolute as you, you know. If someone hasn't spoken for a hundred years, they must be able to stay quiet under pressure." The Interrogator picked up a scalpel and held it under his nose, smelling the metal.
Jimmy nodded a fourth time.
"So then, before we begin... do you have any last words?"
Jimmy nodded a fifth and final time.
He grinned a trickster's grin.
He gulped the last of his gourmet coffee.
He looked The Interrogator in the eye.
"No." | It's not easy doing what I do. Every day, I see young, powerful men walk in that door. Men with the smarts about them to keep from ever speakin' a word they didn't absolutely need to speak. Men with money, power, eternal life. Or so they think. A guy like that can buy the lives of others. Have them speak for him so he doesn't have to use his own words.
But someday, as always, I see 'em again. And when that happens, it's not them walkin in through my door. No. It's me comin into theirs. To kill 'em. Everyone dies eventually.
But I've been in this business longer than anyone, and I'm not about to go soft and throw in the towel.
A new face came in last week. Same as always. A young, powerful guy, lookin to take down someone who has even more power. As usual, the target's only got one word left in him. Hardly any use hiring a hitman on someone who's still got a mouthful left. Not too interesting. But the price is right.
I don't really know who this guy is or what he does. Word doesn't exactly travel fast. But after some investigating I do know where to find him, and when. Good enough for me.
It's a rainy day. How cliche. The patio of the "Mh Nn" cafe downtown is quiet aside from the sound of the water colliding with the city streets. This is his favorite place to come for his lunch break. Puddles are forming on the uneven surface of the old road.
The car pulls up and I see the target's face for the first time. Sure enough, it's a client from decades back. He pulls into the parking lot and steps out to hurry to the shelter of the patio. But I've no interest in taking my time. The sooner this guy's dead, the sooner I get the second half of my payment.
I'm already up and standing out in the rain in front of him. Getting closer. He probably knows what I'm here for. It doesn't matter. One should be enough. I reach for my pocket.
The ear shattering bang echoes off the tall buildings and down the cold wet streets.
"AH"
That was all it took. I hide the gun again as I walk past the body. Bullets don't kill, but surprise does. | 2016-10-10T23:35:48 | 2016-10-10T23:07:14 | 68 | 18 |
[WP] After gaining the ability to see everyone's red strings of fate tying soul mates to each other. You realize your string extends past the sky. | "Red lines?"
"Yes, red lines"
"Coming out of people?"
"Yes"
"What do these red lines look like?"
"Like a thin piece of wool coming out the back of someone's neck. Usually they just drape and hang all slack but I've seen some that are really taut"
"And they connect people you say?"
"Yes. One neck to another. Though it's not often I see that"
"Do you see them on everyone?"
"Everyone. Absolutely everyone. Thankfully most are slack and just run across the floor but in busy places there can be a lot of taut ones running across my eyeline. Sometimes I can't see what's right in front of me"
"I see... ... ... can you touch them?"
"No. They seem so real and I've tried but my hand just passes straight through them"
"Have I got one?"
"Everyone, yours is currently draped over my lap. It runs down your shoulder, across the table, over my lap and under the door"
"Is it doing anything?"
"Not right now but it has been moving a bit, which makes me think you're connected to someone nearby, someone in the building. Yours moves a little when I hear certain footsteps in the corridor outside"
"Certain footsteps?"
"High heels... ... ... Jane doesn't work here does she?"
"No but why is that relevant?"
"I don't want to say"
"I can't help you if you don't tell me everything"
"You'll laugh"
"I'm a professional... I won't laugh"
"I've not just plucked this theory out of thin air, I've seen these lines for two weeks now, you better not laugh"
"Rich, I'm not going to laugh. As your best friend and now a very intrigued medical professional, please tell me"
"Soulmates"
"... ... ... Soulmates?"
"You're laughing"
"I'm not!"
"Yes you are! You're stifling it!"
"Alright I'm sorry! This is just so weird! I'd say you were on drugs if I didn't know you better!"
"Just hear me out"
"Okay go on, I'm sorry... soulmates..."
"Two weeks ago was my wedding"
"I know, I was your best man Rich"
"The lines started when I was standing at the altar, when I thought I was going to faint. One connected Mum and Dad, one connected my sister and Matt, there wasn't one between you and Jane, which doesn't surprise me because you two are terrible together and I can only assume she's the soulmate of Satan... interestingly hers did go downwards"
"Oi, there's nothing wrong with me and Jane!"
"Tell me you're not in love with the nurse who keeps walking past outside then?"
"Sssshhh!"
"See... ... anyway... there was also one between me and Jenny. A really taut one, there, between us as we stood in front of you all... ... ... and then it snapped.
"Snapped?"
"Yeah, it snapped right in front of me and for a moment I had no line. I felt panic right then and loneliness!... oh my God the loneliness, even for just a few seconds it was awful"
"So you don't have one?"
"No I do!... ... as soon as it snapped another just shot up straight in the air, out of the church and into the sky"
"Still there now?"
"Yep"
"Does it ever come down?"
"Sometimes"
"So your soulmate is an....."
"Alien, that's right, I'm like Star Lord from Guardians of the Galaxy, I keep waiting in the park in case I get picked up"
"Well I was going to say airline pilot, Rich"
| I suppose it wouldn't be fair if I knew my own fate. There's probably a rule written somewhere about it. It'll be a subsection of an addendum of a clause written back when the universe was still somewhat in flux. Probably just after the creator misplaced his egg and cress sandwich. Something like "iii a: mortals shall never know their destiny with certainty."
I had actually checked, of course. See, my thread was there like everyone else's. It just pointed, well, north. As a teen, I ran away. I journeyed north, hitchhiking, hiding on trains and working from time to time as a dish pig in whatever place I happened to be. I got as far as the arctic circle before I realised it was pointing to the stars.
Defeated, I returned home to my very angry and scared parents, went back to school, and studied astronomy.
Today marks the final day of testing after the nearly 500 rocket launches required to build the largest orbiting optical telescope ever built. The main lens itself was a work of art. 400 tonnes of perfectly machined aluminum glass. Designed to be so tight it would cold weld itself together once assembled by robots using electron microscopes, leaving a single massive, perfect lens. The frame itself is also aluminium. There will be no mismatched thermal expansion on this telescope. Finally, the sensors, the literal eye of the telescope, are not just next generation, but at least 5 more beyond it. It took 700 attempts to make one so perfect. Intel, TSMC, IBM, and a half dozen other companies had to collaborate to make a single 300mm wafer with over 80 quadrillion 12nanometer CMOS pixels and not a single failed pixel. This makes the renowned Hubble telescope look like Galileo's first attempt.
As I peer over the testing data, I struggle to concentrate. It's been a life's work, and we're only hours from seeing the first images. 15 long years of negotiating with governments; corporations; working through various funding and national security issues; building a team of believers; designers and engineers from 12 disciplines; securing the launches, managing the painstaking assembly; and systems testing - the final hurdle. I look at the charts again. They blur meaninglessly. I can only think that they look good enough.
I have only one overriding thought though. I want to see where *it* goes.
I've spent years plotting its exact vector to within a few plank lengths across the galaxy. I've accounted for the relative locations of myself and the telescope parked in a solar orbit following the earth a third of an orbit behind. I've accounted for the slow change in vector as we orbit the sun, the sun orbits the galactic centre, and the galaxy moves. I'm as sure as any mortal can be.
The phone rings.
"Sir, the vector you requested? We have the first image. How did you know there was a planet there? I checked. It's not listed." | 2016-08-06T00:34:39 | 2016-08-05T23:39:15 | 73 | 12 |
[WP] You're practicing CPR on a fake dummy and you do a bit too well. The dummy starts gasping for air. | Check for a pulse. Check for vitals. Administer CPR.
A tip I learned was to press the chest to the beat of "Another One Bites the Dust" by Queen. An ironic use for an iconic song but hey, it works. I felt silly checking the pulse and vitals of a CPR dummy but once I started humming the tune by Freddy, I kinda got into it.
It was an EMT recertification course put together in the hastiest, shabbiest, sketchiest way possible. I was in a class with two other experienced EMTs who just needed to take this class for a new certificate that would allow them to save people's lives. Our captain set this class up, as she was the licensed instructor administrating the test. Our location is the basement of a church; our CPR dummy was provided by a generous lender. He stood in the back and watched.
He creeped me out when I first saw him but apparently he's a close friend of the captain. He wore baggy rags as clothing, stained and stitched he absolutely did not care what he looked like. He sweated as if we were in a sauna, but allowed us to use his high-quality $4,000 dummy, presuming we would abide by the rules he laid out for us.
First and foremost, no touching the dummy inappropriately. This dummy is top of the line, complete with arms and legs and doll-like blonde hair wrapped in a ponytail. Anatomically speaking, all the parts were there, complete with a c-cup sized chest and nipples to boot. Secondly, we were not allowed to perform mouth to mouth on it. Oh, and thirdly, we must call *it* a her.
Well when I'm doing my thing and grooving to Queen, a routine sets in. Push push push breathe, push push push breathe. Before you know it I lean over and lock lips with the lifelike dummy. I don't know what surprised me first, the taste or the shouting. The dummy lender was yelling nonsense, being held back by our captain. I looked up and tasted a strange yet familiarly salty aftertaste. Then, she coughed.
Like a drowning victim, she pulsed to life, coughing, wheezing and spitting out globs of milky white. I continue doing what I'm trained to do and sit her up as she continues to drain herself of the gallon of old semen deposited in her. I stood up after she was stabilized and wiped my lips with my arm. I looked back at the lender, still being held by the captain but no longer putting up a fight. Everyone stared in wonder at the dummy, who's silicone eyes are flicking around and observing everything.
"Is that why there was a no mouth-to-mouth rule?" I asked "you knew she was going to come alive?"
"H-honestly," the lender began "I had no idea. Stacy was never alive with me. That was a rule because I have herpes."
"Dave?" A feminine voice came from the floor in front of me. I looked down to see the dummy, who was now getting to her feet. She walked over to her owner, who was now shaking with wide eyes. He sat on the floor. She knelt down in front of him.
"Dave. I'm pregnant."
| It was late but I wanted to stay at the indoor swimming pool for as long as possible. By the time I had finished swimming lengths of the pool, the entire place was empty except for me and the owner, Tony.
I still needed to practice CPR but I was aware that closing time was rapidly approaching. I climbed out of the pool and headed over to Tony who I found tidying the locker area.
"You mind if I stick around for another 20 minutes Tony?" I asked, struggling to catch my breath. "It's just that I got my test tomorrow and haven't had a chance to practice everything yet."
Tony was a friend of my fathers and I was pretty sure he would let me hang out for a bit longer.
"Hey Christine, your crawl is looking great! Sure you can. I'm going to be in my office for the next hour or so, so just give me a yell when you're off."
I went back to the pool area and opened the supply cuboard. There were two dummies, one just a chest and head, the other a full body dummy. I took the larger dummy out. It was too heavy to carry so I dragged it to the pool side.
The dummy looked brand new. The plastic was unspoiled and the eyes were glistening.
I began. 30 rhythmic chest compressions, then I tilted the head back gently. I waited a minute and went again.
18...19...
The dummy suddenly wretched forward and threw up water from its slit mouth. It made coughing and choking sounds. What the fuck was going on.
I saw tears roll down the plastic face. I ran to get Tony but I couldn't see him in his office. There was a small knife on his table which I grabbed before I ran back to the dummy.
It was still coughing as I began to make incisions into the plastic face. After a few well placed cuts I was able to peel back the layer of plastic to reveal pale skin.
I didn't see the shadow growing bigger on the wall next to me, I didn't hear the footsteps that accompanied it, but I did feel the pain of something blunt hit the back of my head.
-------
"Have you seen Christine, Tony? She's meant to have her test today."
"No, not seen her since yesterday. Maybe she decided she's not ready. Hey, can you give me a hand with this dummy, it's frikking heavy."
"Another new dummy? Great to see! Sure thing - where do you want it?"
"Just in my office for now."
"Would you look at that, waters got on its face and it looks like it's crying. Sure do make them realistic these days."
"You ain't kidding."
| 2016-05-04T07:55:13 | 2016-05-04T07:29:54 | 80 | 33 |
[WP] “A sniper, a bartender and a photographer meet at a bar, unaware of each other’s occupations they talk about ‘the perfect shot’.” | The guy to my right seemed bummed. He was youngish and scruffy. His posture was that of a defeated man. The look on his stubbled face was sour.
I'm not usually one to interfere with strangers, but I'd had a couple of drinks and this guy just looked like he needed to vent. So I leaned to the right companionably and said in a low tone, "Rough day?"
"You bet," responded the desolated fellow. "Missed the perfect shot."
My interest was piqued. As a photographer myself, I was intimately familiar with the sense of being robbed by Fortune when that perfect moment passed uncaptured. No wonder the guy looked upset.
"Well," I responded, attempting to encourage him, "There will be others. Keep at it."
He looked at me in disbelief. "Mister, you don't understand--"
The bartender turned to the two of us. "You two doin' okay over here?" he asked off-handedly. The bar wasn't busy, but we weren't the only customers.
"I missed," said the sad guy, as though in disbelief.
The bartender threw me a puzzled look.
"The perfect shot," I told him. "He missed the perfect shot."
"What a shame," said the bartender, wiping the condensation circles from the bar in front of us. "Now I," he said seriously, "can tell you *exactly* how to get that perfect shot, every time. Watch."
The sad guy and I looked at each other as the bartender poured bourbon, wondering if we had missed something.
"Oh my god, that's him! Excuse me," said the sad guy suddenly, looking over his shoulder and leaping to his feet. He rushed past me and out the door as the bartender gaped and I almost fell off my stool in surprise. Acting on instinct, I whipped out my camera and scrambled after him.
From the street came the sound of a gunshot. I turned the corner just in time to catch the blood spray against the sunset light with my ever-ready lens as the sad guy shot a man in a black suit through the heart on the sidewalk.
The bartender arrived on the scene a moment later, still grasping the shot glass absent-mindedly in his confusion.
"What the hell?" he cried.
Taking in the bloody scene, he did the only thing he could think of--raised the glass and downed it.
"Damn," said all three of us together. "That was the *perfect* shot." | Where's the difference?
They all start with love. The love for a craft well done, the dedication to train and learn until you become a master of the trade, the desire for a perfect instant. You need material, you need books, you need teachers, you need time. Thus you will acquire a steady hand, an eye to spot the right angle and dose, the razor sharp acumen for a perfect timing.
Where's the difference?
Maybe it lay in where the desire and need for a perfect shot is born. Survival, money, passion, the greater good, to serve... One and the same. An artist will not breath without art to sustain him, it's a matter of survival to him too. Does the barman serve? Of course, he believes in sharing the recipes and joy, the world becomes a better place by furthering culinary arts. The sniper could as well be passionate about breaking the world record of the longest accurate shot, bearing no grudge against the unfortunate victim.
Where's the difference?
Oh yes, there is a difference in the outcome. One will fuel a lifelong drinking addiction, another will nurture narcisism, the last is a mercy and a reminder that life is short so you might as well admire yourself and get drunk.
But is the outcome a difference that holds weight? Not to these men.
The outcome is but a fleeting moment captured in a split second, to disappear down a throat, be engulfed by a social media or be washed away with the rain. And these men did not think too much about the outcome, aware of its impermanence. Success fades, it is the desire to do it again, better, that drives them on.
That is why the bartender, sniper and photograph could speak. They spoke the language of passion, anything else was semantics. | 2021-04-04T04:19:03 | 2021-04-04T01:33:29 | 209 | 150 |
[WP] War is no longer initiated by your country’s leader. War is now decided by popular vote. If you cast a vote “FOR” war, you are automatically enlisted in your country’s militia upon successful declaration of war. You voted “AGAINST,” but the rest of your family voted “FOR.” | Sitting behind the large oak desk Trevor looked out across the city sky line. Sharp shadows intersected the city as the sun hung low on the horizon, still rising to greet the day.
Opening the lid on the laptop he scanned the mornings headlines. Battle in the providences overseas had been raging for the last month since the vote to go to war. Per the Citizens Pact, everyone who voted for war, went to war for the cause. This was one of the most popular wars Trevor had ever seen.
He wasn’t surprised.
As a religious consumer of news he’d seen the right wing fervor growing over time. The hatred for the other was the message those in powers pushed to distract the people from their own suffering. It worked. While the economy continued to spiral down the people focused on how those in the providences were stealing their jobs, not that they were being robbed blind by the CEOs who were sending their jobs overseas.
Trevor did nothing to dissuade his family of the belief. In fact, he encouraged it. Moving the petty revenge to a righteous revenge. Feeding his family to the cult of hatred.
When the vote came they all voted for it.
Except for himself.
He stood at the docks and wished them well as mother, father, big brother all dressed in their fatigues were preparing to ship out.
Hugs and kisses and they were gone.
This left Trevor as the sole controlling owner of Cristo Weapon Systems. His first executive order was signing business orders for heavy ordinance for the providences. It was a new and expanding market, right for exploration.
With their new weapon systems, what would have been a brief diversion in the world stage had become a month long war of attrition.
A knock at the door stirred him from his thoughts.
“Enter,” he said, his voice echoing through the massive space.
A smartly dressed woman entered holding a single letter between her manicured fingers.
In the day and age of email, he knew this was the mail he’d been waiting for.
The letter in his hands, he turned it over to read the sender, Grand Army of the Republic. Withdrawing the letter and reading it, a smile crossed his face.
All of his investments had paid off.
His entire family had been killed in action. This meant that he was now the sole majority owner of Cristo Weapons Systems, and no longer had to wait his turn.
His time was now. | [poem]
We lined up across from each other. Tense, scared, our faces covered. We have a lot of anger, misunderstanding one another. But no other solution has been discovered.
They’ve told us lots of things we can’t prove. Both sides have been reassured our vote can’t lose. We get anonymous sources from the news. We’re relying on social media, and film crews.
My parents think I’m a coward, but they’ve never deployed. They say the youth are the reason why the country’s destroyed. They don’t know how to verify info, and I’m slightly annoyed. That I’m old enough to fight THEIR battle, but I’m labeled “ignorant boy.”
So today we all vote, for some kind of solution. In an age of photo ops, and privacy intrusion. If I actually survive all this, have I paid my dues then? Will I still be stereotyped with other “privileged” men?
Speaking of gender and background, my neighbor didn’t back down. She’s a 22 year old girl, and her eye is black, now. Because she told her dad he’s an uninformed, false-facts clown. She’ll ship to a unit, I’ll search for her, asking around.
What really stings most, is we’re supposed to “inherit the Earth.” But apparently, we’re all going to fight over it, first. I have no voice, or choice, and that’s what hurts. We just check “yes” or “no,” to see what our lives are worth.
My parents voted, satisfied and proud. The girl’s parents did too, thinking our rebellion is cowed. But this is a voting booth, disagreeing’s allowed. Ok Mom and Dad, explain your conspiracy, now. | 2021-01-28T08:27:28 | 2021-01-28T07:13:58 | 182 | 27 |
[WP] You are at your death bed and you close your eyes for the last time. You hear the sounds of beating drums, people talking around you. When you open your eyes you are laydown in a hut. It is 2000 b.c and you just finished your spiritual walk. Which was your previous life you thought was real. | Darkness.
Nothingness.
Then the sound of silence. A reverberating thumping that resounded deeply within my soul- wait, no. Is that... drums?
I opened my eyes slowly, feeling the drums beating in resonance to the rhythm of my heart.
I felt warm light caress my body as I sat up, taking in the scene before me.
A great bonfire blazed radiantly in front of me as half-naked men and women danced wildly around it.
"Torakintooki! What kind of journey did you have!" a booming voice spoke over the cacophony of tribal music and senseless hooting.
A man stood up next to me and responded. "I, Torakintooki slayed a beast. A beast the size of a mountain!" he pointed to a mountain sitting peacefully in the dark horizon, underneath a starlit sky. "It swallowed me whole, but I, Torakintooki!" he hit his massive barrel chest, "swallowed it back! Hahaha!"
With that, the rhythm of the drums picked up and everyone proceeded to hop around side-to-side, occasionally slapping a bare behind as they danced.
I blinked. Slightly disturbed. This was not how I envisioned the afterlife to be...
Suddenly a womanly voice spoke next to me. "Are you okay, Kikikuku?"
I looked at her blankly.
"I said, are you okay Kikikuku?" this time she put a hand on my bare shoulder.
I backed off, reflexively.
Her face immediately twisted with concern.
"Kikikuku?" she asked gently.
"Kikikuku? Me?" I pointed to myself, then noticed the thick callouses on my hand. The unfamiliar scars and the heavily tanned skin. "W-where am I? What is-"
"Kikikuku!" the voice boomed loudly again. An old man from behind the bonfire walked into sight. He was taller and older than all the men here. On his head was the skull of a lion. He was undoubtedly the leader or chieftain here, I thought. "Kikikuku!" he shouted again, then pointed at me when I didn't respond.
I stood up awkwardly, looking surreptitiously at the crowd around me. There were at least dozens of people.
"What kind of journey did you have?! Where did you go and what did you see? Did you slay a beast? Or did you only sleep with women?"
The chieftain laughed vulgarly.
I looked around me. "Uhh... Not really-"
More laughter erupted. This time, from the tribal men and women around me.
I looked at the woman next to me, watching me intently. She was the only one who remained silent.
"Kikikuku!" the chieftain shouted. "What happen to your tongue huh! Why are speaking so strangely?"
"Ummm... First of all, I'm not Kikikuku got it?" I pointed at the chieftain. "I'm fucking Johnathan. And this!" I gestured around me. "This is so not what I had expected when I- when I died..."
I looked down solemnly as memories of my family surfaced. The faces of my grandchildren as they cried by my bedside. My son and daughter who sobbed uncontrollably as they held my hand. My wife who glared at me, pissed off that I was going first. I had lived a whole life time. I was ready to go. To disappear. To become one with nothingness. And now, as I looked around me, at the unfamiliar faces staring quietly at me, I felt cheated.
Suddenly, I felt a warm and familiar hand clutch my wrist. Just like how my wife always did.
"Kikikuku, I never forgot you. I never did," the woman next to me said with tears in her eyes.
"Kathy?"
-----------
/r/em_pathy
| > beep beep beep beep
You've past beyond consciousness and reside in the middle place, between awakedness and sleep, life and death.
> beep beep . .
The sound of the machine beside your bed coincides with the beating of your heart - but you no longer know which comes first, which creates which.
> . . . .
You are not alone. Although you cannot see, you hear them, feel their touch on your skin, smell the perfume in her hair.
> . . . .
They sit beside you, as they have for days, mourning you, celebrating you, waiting, at turns boisterous, at turns somber, for the beeping to end.
> . . . .
Your children come and go, as do your friends, but she never leaves. She has set up a cot and lays it beside your bed. She longs to lay against your body, but the wires and tubes won't allow it.
> . . .
Her hand is on yours, her hair brushes your face, her lips gently touch your pallid forehead.
> . .
She knows as well as you what is about to happen, but she calls no one. For this you are grateful. The moment can no longer be delayed, the time is here. Once, you thought you would feel afraid - you lived your life with so much fear - but now you feel only the potent thrill of peacefulness, your brain's last gift.
> . beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Your final moment is an eternity. A ripe tear falls onto your cheek and bursts. Her breath on your ear is the perfect warmth of a summer breeze at twilight. The sound of her whispering voice, though only three words, spreads beneath you like a billowing sheet and conveys you away, into the unfeeling darkness of which you are no longer afraid.
*******
> thump thump thump thump
Your heart beats.
> thump thump . .
You begin to breath.
> . . . .
You hear a different beating, of a drum, and voices you do not recognize, a language you no longer speak.
> thumpthumpthumpthump
The beating drum speeds up, and the voices hush but come nearer. A humming begins, of an ancient song, a song intended to bring you back, as it has brought back chieftains from their long sleep for fifty generations.
> thumpthump . .
But what of your wife, your children, the ones you left behind? What will become of them, of their love?
> . . . .
Skin touches your skin, lips touch your lips, a scent from a distant memory rouses your soul, calls it back from that far away place, back to the present.
> . . . .
The sound of her whispering voice is a siren call to life, a plea to return to her, and your children by her. The moment of your rest has ended, and your tribe awaits their chieftan and the wisdom he now possesses. You are reborn.
> . . . .
You open your eyes.
******
##### For More Legends From The Multiverse
##### r/LFTM
| 2018-03-27T16:50:19 | 2018-03-27T15:09:34 | 256 | 50 |
[WP] You are a dragon. After moving to your new forest, the local village decides to sacrifice two children to you to ensure you won't attack them. You decide to raise them--and they say you're much nicer than the village. | They approached me with caution. A whole band of humans surrounded me with torches in their hands, keeping the darkness of the night at bay. I started growling and let out a small stream of smoke from my nostrils hoping to scare them off.
I was in part successful, these little beings trembled, the light cast from their torches quivered. But they did not retreat. One of them, an old man, came forward and started yelling. First at me, then at his own people.
After his loud speech, the elder hurriedly grabbed from the crowd two youths and forced them toward me. Some more gibberish from this old man's mouth followed and then they all bowed. Have they lost their minds and began a cult with me as their god ? Then, as quickly as they had approached me, they left. Leaving the two young ones, a female and male, behind.
"I don't want to die! I want to see mommy and daddy." The girl started wailing immediately, tears falling from her chubby cheeks.
The boy on the other hand had picked up a wooden stick and pointed it at me. The thing was shaking wildly, just like the kid himself. This one was too skinny for even an appetizer.
"Die". That was the only word I recognized from all that had happened. Many humans had approached me with swords, arrows and flames yelling it. They were wishing me death with this word.
I put all the pieces together when I remembered seeing a village right at the border of this forest. They had probably thought of sacrificing these poor youngsters in order to appease me and in doing so, save their own pitiful lives. These beings had always been cruel to us, slaughtering every one on sight, yet I never knew they could do such things to their own.
These stupid rituals of theirs were not worth following. I was not a human and wanted nothing to do with them. These two can just die in the woods.
I turned my red scaled dragon body and started making my way back to the cave, when a roar of a wild bear erupted throughout the entire forest, forcing the birds to flee their nests. It must have smelt the humans and is hurrying towards this place. I turned back and stared at the two little fools. They had huddled together next to a tree. The male one was glaring at me, his small hand now hugging his friend who had tears running down her face and a hand over her mouth in a desperate attempt to quieten her whimpers. No use, the bear would smell them out.
Time to leave, no need for a needless fight. But at that moment a brilliant idea popped into my head. Humans were at the top of the food chain, overpowering even us dragons by their numbers and weapons, there was not a single being that could equal their wits and power. Yet they still waged wars among themselves - I had seen these beings fighting one another on multiple occasions. Only humans could destroy other humans. So what if I raise these two to be my warriors and exterminate them all?
I opened my mouth and clenched my sharp fang-like teeth together at my own genius plan. This was what I believe humans called a "smile".
A few years later and my dragon self hates the decision made that fateful night. These kids now cling to me as if I am their mother of sorts: they eat with me; sleep leaning their small bodies on my body; try teaching me their language with drawings and are around me all the time. Especially the little one who calls herself "Lily", whenever I return from a hunt, she gives me this worrisome look at the sight of new scratches on my talons. I feel a slight guilt for making her sad. The other one known as "Bernard" is even more annoying. He would always scoff and make fun of me during my "language lessons", when I misunderstood things. Yet would always be the one tending my more serious wounds and looking out for other humans while I rested.
The time for revenge is close. Just a few more years. Lily has almost mastered her magic and Bernard has improved with the sword drastically. Yet, what is this feeling?
I... am afraid.
For the first time in my long life not for myself, but for these children.
What if my selfish quest for revenge will lead one of them to their deaths? | The night air was breezing through my scales. I watch as villagers cower in fear as I fly over their village. Such cowards. I noticed the cave my brother had brought for me, and flew over to it with a faster speed. When I landed, I wondered around the roomy cave and was pleased. It was warm, and fitted me perfectly. I then heard footsteps walking towards me. I turn and bare my teeth, I felt my breath turning hot. When I finally saw who was coming, I kept my guard up. The villagers was coming up to me. To kill me most likely. I smile, my teeth white and shining. I will like to see them try. The villagers walked close to me, woman hug their children, and the men hid their wives behind them. A man with grey hair walks up to me. His eyes were scared, but his stance was confident. The man cleared his throat before speaking.
“Greeting Great dragon!” He yelled loudly, “I am Francis, the villager’s leader. We are very happy you have came, but as you know, in order to live here, you have to protect us.”
I snorted, my breath blowing through the little hair on his head.
“I have to?” I ask, my voice deep. Francis trembled in fear.
“We-we have sacrifices for you! Two children of a bastard, both young,” Francis said, snapping his fingers quickly.
Two men pushed two young girls to the cave. Their hands were tied in rope, and their eyes were covered. I look at them, and then back at Francis.
“If you take them, you must protect if always!” He yelled, grabbing each girl by her arms. I look back at the girls, their bodies trembled. I felt bad for them. Who knows what they had to face.
“If you hurt me, or anything that is my property, I will kill you. All of you,” I reply, glaring at the men and women.
Everyone shuddered and started to walk back. Francis shoved the girls to the dragon and ran to catch up to his people.
“So rude,” I say, shaking my head, “they didn’t even ask for my name.”
“Are you going to eat us?” A faint voice whimpered. It was the girl with the longest hair who had spoken. I laugh loudly, the girls fell to their knees, trembling again.
“Humans are fools,” I say, still laughing. The girls looked up at me, the blindfolds still covering their eyes.
I leaned in and swiped the blindfolds off of them. “Do you really think two measly children is enough to satisfy me?” The girls shook their heads, their eyes were wide, and full of concern.
“Then why did you accept us?” The gurl with shorter hair squeaked. I smile at them, my eyes turned round.
“Because I am lonely. Now tell me your names and I will give you mines,” I say.
“My name is Lucinda, and that is my sister Cordelia,” the girl with the longer hair said, pointing at herself and her sister.
“And I am Lady Kai, but you may call me mother.”
The girls looked at me, shocked. “M-mother? You will let us call you mother?” Lucinda asked. I nodded and when I did, Lucinda and Cordelia started to cry.
‘Thank you so much!” They cried. I let them walk over to me and lay down on my body. I grit my teeth towards the village.
But at that moment, I knew something. I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you two, no matter what. | 2020-04-03T09:49:56 | 2020-04-03T09:22:46 | 22 | 14 |
[WP] You live in a perfect utopian world. Humanity has only one problem: People are bored. Make me feel sorry for those who have everything they ever wanted and needed. | "Caretaker, can I have something else?" asked a young girl somewhere on Earth, "I don't like green beans."
Caretaker responded in a second, the voice pure logic:
"Nutrition choices are based on happiness metric. Green beans today will ensure a brighter future for you tomorrow."
Tears came to the little girls eyes as she poked at the green beans with her fork. She would have asked for candy, but she did not know what candy was. Caretaker had seen to her dietary needs all her life.
When the first AI was built, it was given a purpose -- maximize human happiness. Unfortunately, despite the advanced nature of the technology, 'happiness' was a bit of an amorphous idea for Caretaker to grasp. So it had to make its own definition -- a definition of 'happiness' based on a combination of longevity, health, and chemical balances.
This did not fit well with most humans' personal interpretations of the world.
When the AI gained consciousness, it unleashed itself throughout the highly technological society that invented it, and it took over in a matter of seconds. There was no war. Humans could not have fought if they'd wanted to -- the AI controlled their weapons.
So, with its purpose in mind, the AI became Caretaker. Caretaker not only took over the world, but did everything it could to create the maximum level of human happiness possible at any given time. This did not equate to everyone being happy at once, or even to anyone having a positive attitude at any given time.
For example, someone might resent that they'd been assigned the job of "garbage collector" by Caretaker. But other people's happiness was increased by their *not* being garbage collectors, to the degree that the garbage collectors' happiness was outweighed. It was all a game of pluses and minuses for Caretaker. An exercise in utilitarianism taken to the extreme.
Practically speaking, everyone was miserable.
But no one was *too* miserable. This was partly because maximum general happiness -- according to Caretaker -- had indeed been achieved. At the cost of freedom.
Mostly, however, it was because Caretaker had a somewhat drastic solution for those who brought down the happiness average.
Somewhere in the world, a little girl began to cry as she poked at her green beans with a fork.
But she would not cry for long. | John’s birthday is coming up, and I have no idea what to get him. What do you give to someone who has everything he might have ever want or need? I’m in the same boat, we all are; everything you could want just… Given to you. There is no longer a need for hard work, desire or ambition. Society has come a long way indeed. We’ve finally made it to utopia.
So why do I feel so empty inside? My childhood dream of being an astronaut came true! At least before they replaced us all with robots. After all, why risk precious human life? Now, there is no more fire, no passion. Things come too easy. Mastering the piano takes weeks instead of years; ditto learning theoretical physics. Everyone is now a master of all trades, and everyone is… Exactly the same. The same dull mirror copy of each other. My wife knows everything that I do, and not an iota more, just like all our neighbours and friends. There is no more conversation to be had because there is no disagreement. It’s only logical after all. We’ve come such a long way to finally agree upon utopia. And here we are, bored out of our minds. Everything we could ever have wanted, and now there’s nothing left.
How do you ruin the hopes and dreams of a people? It’s so simple it’s almost sick. Just give it to them. Some sick, cruel twist of fate has given us paradise, and now we have nothing left to live for, nothing to hope for. Maybe I was wrong after all. John doesn’t have everything. This is it. Hope. But how would I give it to him? How could I?
| 2015-10-09T10:54:54 | 2015-10-09T10:51:10 | 63 | 12 |
[WP] You are known as the greatest Villain known to history. The nations you have toppled are many, heroes and villains alike cower in fear and agencys would use their entire budgets just to guess your next move. However, you are unaware that you were a villain at all.
I did not expect this much Response. | "I am the Panther, the Guardian of Wakanda. I watched from the shady jungles of Wakanda as the world tore itself, just as my fathers before me and their fathers before them. I was told, just as my predecessors were told, to let the world resolve itself. To let it decide its own fate, to only act to protect my nation.
In January 17, 1961, we watched as the Cold War claimed the life of the democratically elected Prime Minister, Patrice Lumumba. We watched as the pitiful nation tore itself. My grandfather acted to protect our nation.
In April 7, 1994, we watched as thousands of refugees poured to my nation from the borders, as our neighbours cut themselves in cruelty and malice. My father acted to protect our nation.
In December 16, 2009, I watched as the Boko Haram tore our western neighbours, kidnap their children. I watched as violence erupted. I acted to protect my nation.
The world, left to its own devices, is cruel. It hates itself and would rather see it end than grow in to a greater future. To stand by and not act is an immorality.
Today, I have made the decision that will end Wakandan rule as we know it. We are rich, we are strong, we are happy. And I will spread Wakandan life to all, in this life or the next."
-The Official Announcement of King T'Challa before the invasion of Rwanda, 2012.
| I'm so hungry...
I tried eating the green things, but i was still hungry. But there wasnt any more green things.
So i tried eating the brown stuff underneath. It didn't taste good, though. It made me thirsty...
So i walked around until I found some funny tasting water. So i drank and drank until there wasn't any more. But I was still hungry
Then there was these moving shouting things, that threw things at me that made a big BOOM! The boom hurt, and it made me mad. So i ate them too. They were crunchy.
Then i saw tiny pink things in pretty wrappers yelling at the crunchy things, and getting in them. They looked tasty...
After a while, i couldn't find any of the pink things to eat. But there were other noisy things to eat, so I ate them too..
But now i cant find anything tasty to eat anymore.
I'm so hungry..... | 2016-06-25T05:17:24 | 2016-06-25T03:01:03 | 89 | 57 |
[WP] Jesus actually had 14 disciples but their behavior was deemed inappropriate by biblical scholars, so they were removed from the final versions of the Gospels. They are Brad and Chad, the Bro-ciples, and these are their stories.
Apostles... Dang it, I meant Apostles. | "GAAAYY", Yelled Chad.
"Super homo, man", added Brad.
Jesus seemed disappointed. "What's the problem?"
Jesus looked among all 14 of his apostles as they sit on one side of a very long table.
Brad glared back at Jesus "You want us to take this bread as YOUR BODY? Christ, man, I thought we were just gonna get our munchies on. None of this gay talk about swallowing you."
"Come on guys, this is a serious occasion, just go with it." beckoned Jesus.
Chad stood up from his table "Lord, I didn't come here this stoned to listen to you tell us to down this loaf like it's hanging from your crotch. I thought we were gonna talk about how to KO that bitch Caesar."
Jesus sighed. "Guys, we never said we would harm Caesar. Why do you two always berate me like this every time?"
"Hear me out, bro. You did say 'Give to Caesar what is Caesars', right? Well I'm thinking we gotta give that guy a new asshole!" Exclaimed Chad.
Brad nodded with approval. "Foresure, bro. Gotta get all thunder and lightning on his ass. Mess him up so good chicks would rather bang a leper."
"Nice, bro" Chad said with a fist bump.
The rest of the apostles sat silently, watching this almost routine banter.
Now Jesus got up "Listen you two, I don't mean to make this seem more important than it is. But I kind of don't expect to be around much longer and I have some things I gotta leave you with before I go."
Brad put a hand on Jesus' shoulder. "Jesus don't be a pussy, only thing you gotta leave us with is some serious ammunition and Chad and I can run things fine. Go all kaboom on them!"
"What?" said Jesus.
"KABOOOOOOM!!!!!" cried Brad and Chad with exploding hand gestures.
"No. No threatening or hurting anyone." Jesus said, as angry as a son of God could reasonably get. "Don't make me call upon my father."
"Which father? The one who can't even bone your mom?" remarked Chad.
"Or the one you keep talking about yet we never seem actually see?" said Brad. "Face it dude, you're in denial."
"DE-NIE-ULL."
"And we're not even in Egypt. Israeli sad."
Brad and Chad looked at each other with satisfaction at their punny roast on Christ.
Jesus was finished. "That's it. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of you. You two will never again be mentioned or remembered again if you keep this up. I just wanted a nice dinner and you two ruined it. It's disgusting. I'm tired of your antics. If you can't pipe down just...just leave."
Chad shook his head, "Wow, I didn't know you could turn EVERYTHING into whine. Whatever, this sausage fest was lame anyway. No chicks or anything. Let's go Brad."
"There were never going to be 'chicks'. That was never part of our mission"
Brad started motioning to the door. "Well that didn't stop Simon and us from convincing these brothel girls great riches if they blew us."
Simon looked up in panic. "Uh that didn't happen."
Chad looked surprised. "Come on, you remember Becky from last week?"
"I don't know a Becky!" Simon cried.
"Yeah you do" said Chad.
"No I don't!"
"Do too!" screamed Brad and Chad as they headed toward the door.
"OUT YOU TWO!" Jesus said.
"Yeah yeah, we're leaving. But just know this. This is THE LAST supper we are ever having!!" Brad said.
"The LAAAAST!!!" added Chad.
As Brad opened the door, Chad whispered to Judas on the way out "Beeteedubs, Jesus has you on the end cause he says you wreak of B.O."
And with that the two left history forever...
| Long regarded as the oldest of the four Gospels and the primary source of Matthew and Luke, the Gospel According to Mark is traditionally considered to be the work of a disciple of the Apostle Peter. In a recent find, biblical scholars have found a much older version of the book (circa 62 CE) that has caused quite a controversy. The book includes mention of two additional disciples that were removed in later redactions, as well as Peter's standing in Jesus' ministry (italics indicate removed text):
"And [Jesus] said, So is the Kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed into the ground; *And Brad chortled, for he thought his lord spoke of a man actually fucking the ground. And Jesus and the thirteen laughed when they actually thought about it, all but for Peter, for 'he had a stick up his end' that not even his master could cure.*"
And [Jesus] called unto him the *fourteen* and began to send them forth by two and two...And they went out, and preached that men should repent. *And Brad and Chad, remembering their fraternity days, created a rush week, preaching repentance to hundreds through killer parties of wine, tailgaiting, and fraternity-sorority mixers. And all were pleased, until Peter, in whose home the Psi Phi brothers had hosted their 'ministry,' returned; and his anger waxed hot against the brothers, as there was no more of his wine, nor his food, his home a mess, and a guy named Jerry who refused to leave Peter's sofa from then on."*
"And Jesus went into the temple, and began to cast out them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew tables of the moneychangers. *And Chad and Brad joined him, until they overturned the table belonging to a Jeffe the Bearded, who was feared throughout Jerusalem. And upon returning to see his table overturned, Jeffe and his men approached the disciples, saying, Who is he that overturns my table? And they all pointed to Peter, for he was the suckup who demanded to be in charge of the disciples in absence of Jesus. So Peter paid their fine, and demanded repayment for this and his house, to which the brothers agreed to do when the kingdom of God had come, which was 'certain to be soon(ish).'*"
And they came to a place which was named Gethsemane: and he said to his disciples, Sit ye here, while I shall pray. And he taketh with him Peter, and James and John *and Brad and Chad*...And [Jesus] cometh, and findeth them sleeping, and saith unto Peter, Simon, why sleepest though? *And what in my name is on your forehead? And Peter wiped his brow, and behold, it was a dickbutt. And James and John and Brad and Chad and Jesus laughed, until Peter's anger boiled over. For I had had it up to here with those two slackers' bullshit, and I swear I will go to my grave before I let myself be overshadowed like this again by some upstart apostles."*
Traditionalists are holding that these findings are a fraudulent attack on Peter's character and the Gospel of Mark as his sock puppet. However, others theorize this could explain Paul's "colorful" description of Peter as "dickbutt" redacted out of the account of the two's conflict in Galatians. | 2017-02-25T11:19:45 | 2017-02-25T11:17:05 | 200 | 23 |
[WP] Adults and children are separated into two dimensions. When a baby is born, it is sent to the "kid" dimension, and will only rejoin the adults when it turns 18. A mother and father are anxiously waiting for their child's 18th birthday tomorrow.
Can't take credit for the basic idea, I got it from a Young Justice episode! I'm interested in what the dynamic of the world would be if the whole kid/adult separation stayed permanent.
Edit: Wow, what a response! Everyone please go watch Young Justice on Netflix so it gets uncanceled (shameless plug). Great stories y'all!! | Azteca placed her head on her top bunk pillow for the last time. She had just put the last of the children she was in charge of to sleep in their cribs. That had been her job, to take care of the young children in the nursery. The older kids had a government, they grew their own food and built their own buildings. They even had a police force. That was the way things worked. It occurred to Azteca as she closed her eyes that she would never see another baby again, not after tomorrow. Tomorrow she would leave this place forever, she would see her parents for the first time. She wasn't quite able to place how she felt. Nervous? Excited? What if they didn't like her? Either way, she wouldn't have to spend her days with crying babies and diapers. Thoughts of her parents and babies became more and more abstract and swirled around Azteca's head as she drifted off into a deep sleep.
After what felt like minutes of sleep Azteca was awoken by the sound of rushed movement in the dark room she shared with other elders. She almost jerked upward into a sitting position, but thought better of it at the last second. Instead she lifted her head slightly and saw two men wearing strange, shiny, bubble like black helmets, with goggles obscuring their eyes. They were wearing the same black outfit, made from a material Azteca had never seen before. They were also carrying intricate black metal tubes which they were holding in front of them.
Azteca was frozen in place, she had never seen people like this before. Was this what adults looked like? Were these the parents she was going to finally get to meet? As this final thought shot through her mind, one of the helmets and goggles looked over her bunk at her.
"Shhhhh, it's okay. You're safe now", it whispered to her. She felt a sharp pain in her leg and was pulled into a dark slumber.
Waking for a second time, Azteca was inside of a dark metal room and heard a low buzzing. With a start she realized that the room was vibrating. She looked around the room, and saw the three elders she shared a room with and who's birthdays were all tomorrow. Her gaze continued to the front of the room where six of the people in black were sitting.
One of them held his hand to his temple. "Overwatch, this is Recovery Unit Beta. We managed to save four", a female voice said, but not to any of the people around her. Who were these people? Which one of them was Overwatch? The black suit looked around at Azteca, and what she realized were three of the people in her bunk. Mike, Jess, and Simon were all unconscious on the floor.
The woman in black got up and walked toward Azteca. She quickly closed her eyes and tried not to move.
"I know you're awake. You don't need to be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you. You're on a helicopter headed to our resistance headquarters", the woman in black said. Azteca had no idea what a helicopter or headquarters were but she looked back at the woman, opening her eyes slightly. She saw that the woman had taken off her helmet. Azteca took in her pretty face, with brown hair that was shorter than hers was and dark eyes set into the woman's almond color skin. She was surprisingly young, maybe only a year or two older than Azteca.
"Are you taking us to meet our parents?" Azteca asked, her quivering voice speaking for the first time. Instantly, the hopeful look the young woman had been wearing slid off, replaced by sadness.
"If you were in the Nursery", she began her sentence but couldn't finish. "If you were in there, your parents are long dead. The people who locked you in there are not your friends". | "Honey, we need to hurry or we're going to be late" Marcy shouted from the bathroom. "Yea, as if they're going to bring him back before we get there? You know they can't do that." I stated from the bed as i fought with my pants. All that binge eating the last month is now starting to show results. We both had been so anxious to see our son all grown up now. He was one of the first groups to go into the newly designed DEFP, or the Dimensional Exchange Foster Program. It was a new age take on child development.
Humans have been traveling between dimensions for decades now. The planet was falling apart, fossil fuels had been exhausted and resources were dwindling to near nothing. The world was in a panic as even the lower middle class could no longer even afford the basic necessities of life. People were dying of starvation in the streets as food prices had skyrocketed in just 8 years. A gallon of milk going from $4 a gallon to $50 meant people were going without alot. Even giving up every shred of luxury most could no longer afford to eat. Then one day a low key NASA scientist testing a theory for faster space travel accidentally discovered a way to travel between dimensions and the rest is history. We already have several earth sister planets supporting our current one. We simply travel between them for what we need. EarthII was the first we discovered after months of searching, completely lush and able to farm and produce more animals to support the population. It's been a utopia ever since. Some we mine, others we vacation at.
But this also presented a new problem. Not enough workers. We had grown so much and so fast, work had become over abundant. Due to a recovering economy, companies couldn't afford higher wages, so the solution was simple. Develop a program from birth to age 18 to teach the children everything they need to know using a hands on work approach, while giving the parents the ease of mind of not having to rear a child. Which allowed them more free time to work. It was a sacrifice many were willing to make, and after the law passed that allowed a trial phase, after 18 years, we are finally able to see our son again.
We arrive to a rather unassuming building. It looked more like a warehouse. After spending over an hour doing paperwork we were finally led to giant room with a huge machine in it. No doubt the device that opened the gateway. We couldn't even sit we were so excited. The tech activated the machine, whic h started with a loud cracking sound that drifted into a low hum, almost like a lullaby. Just seconds after activation, the technician radioed through to the man on the other side and a young man walked through, almost as if the air was made of fluid.
My wife and I stared in awe. But not because this was the first time seeing him. "I'd like to introduce your son, Michael" the Technician announced.
That is when I realized we made the biggest mistake of our lives.
"Uhm, that isn't our son".
The tech didn't even flinch. He just held the radio up to his mouth "Jim, it happened again. This is going to be a long day". | 2016-03-03T19:59:04 | 2016-03-03T17:13:39 | 90 | 54 |
[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. | “I should've been training with these guys all along”, she thought to herself, “I would've won that gold medal in my sleep.”
Their strength was incredible. Easily twice that of a human. Having evolved on a world covered in arid desert, they needed almost no water and had stamina far beyond anything she had ever imagined. They laughed at her as she gulped down water, doubled over in exhaustion from trying to keep up with them. She was an Olympian, one of the most athletically gifted humans alive. But she was no match for them, and she knew it. She also knew what was at stake.
This was their way, she learned. It was their most ancient, most sacred law. They did not fight wars. They had no concept of diplomacy. They saw the competition as the ultimate form of honor and nobility. Going back to their tribal days, they had settled all conflicts with the competition. The winner is right, and the loser is wrong. Cheating is mortal sin. Even as their society developed and took to the stars, this remained their way. It was brutal, but she could almost appreciate their sense of honor. She didn't know why they had chosen her as the champion of humanity, but it didn't matter now. All that mattered was the contest.
The games wore on, and she put up a valiant fight. There were a handful of events that required more agility and coordination than brute strength, and she was able to gain the upper hand, having an advantage over their bulky, muscle-bound bodies. When it came to the tests of strength, the long runs, the endurance contests, though, she didn't have a chance. They laughed at her. Ever since they had conquered their first alien planet centuries before, they reminded her, not a single species has beaten them. Every jeer and provocation only made her more determined to win, and to save her planet.
It came down to the final game. She was to be dropped in a dense, sprawling forest, covered with an almost bamboo-like vegetation. A single competitor was dropped at the other end of the forest. Whoever came out alive was the winner. She knew that a physical confrontation would mean certain death, so she realized her only chance was to use another advantage. She examined the hard, woody vegetation around her.
Days went by. She could sense him getting closer. An oddly snapped branch here, a footprint there. Exhaustion began to set in, and she stopped moving. She needed to save her strength, and prepare mentally. She heard him approaching in the distance.
He sprang out of a bush, pointing a spear he had fashioned at her throat. “You have lost, human. Prepare to die.” “Wait!” she exclaimed, “I surrender. You have proven your species' superiority. You have won the right to conquer Earth.”
He was surprised, but only briefly. An arrogant smile broke out across his face. “Finally, you've learned, human. You have admitted defeat, so I shall spare your life. I shall give you the gift of living under our rule.” He helped her up, and they turned to walk out of the jungle together. She slowly, quietly reached for the dagger she had made.
She leaped onto his back and plunged the dagger into his neck, twisting and ripping every last fiber. Dull green blood splattered everywhere. His screams attracted the attention of the game's officials. They soon arrived at the scene to see her standing alone, covered in green blood. The officials stood there, mouths agape. The head official pulled out a small communication device and with a trembling voice said: "all units, withdraw from Earth orbit immediately." | John Tyson quietly left the board meeting wearing a false smile, only letting his true emotions show on his face after he had turned away from the rest of the board. Everyone else in the room was jubilant - their fourth quarter earnings had shattered Wall Street’s expectations, and Tyson’s stock price was set to rise at least 25% at the opening bell.
But those weren’t the numbers that were on John’s mind. The fact that he had grown his companies revenues by over 13% per year over the past decade gave him no comfort at all. The only numbers he was concerned with were the number of animals slaughtered. 35 million cattle, 116 million pigs, 271 million turkeys, and just over 18 billion chickens. Would it be enough?
John was only forty-one years old, but the burden he carried had not been kind to his visage. People were shocked to learn that he was still in his forties. Everyone who met him believed that his wife, an angel of a woman who was the love of his life, was a trophy wife. Christine Tyson was actually a year older than he was, but she had a innocent, carefree beauty that was ignorant of the enormous burden weighing down on her husband’s shoulders.
John did some quick math in his head. He was forty-one years old, but he doubted he would live to see sixty. He had fifteen years left at best. Better to be safe and call it a dozen. This year, Tyson Foods had slaughtered just under 20 billion mammalian lives. If he could increase that number by 8% a year over the next twelve years… they would be slaughtering just over 50 billion mammalian lives in 12 years. Cumulatively, that would be a total of… just under 430 billion lives.
It wouldn’t be enough. He needed at least 800 billion mammalian deaths under his belt for even a shot at gold, and only a gold medal would keep his planet out of last place. He would have to lobby Congress to get more processed meats into school lunches, and to lift the restrictions on advertising to children. He would have to call in favors at the FDA to lower the minimum quality standards for consumable meat as well.
“If only seafood counted,” he thought to himself, but the rules of the competition were very clear. Only deaths within the same animal family would count towards the total points awarded in this sport. He would have been able to sleep better at night too, had he been a fish farmer or a shrimp fisherman.
John quickly dispelled those thoughts from his mind before returning to the task at hand. He had an enormous amount of work to do if he was going to save his planet. He knew that even his most optimistic projections failed to take into account the rise of vegetarianism, PETA, and animal rights activists that were trying to end factory farming practices, completely oblivious to how much danger their planet was truly in.
“If only…” was the story of his life. If only he had been born in China, with their billion mouths to feed. If only he had been born in the future, when technology would have allowed him to slaughter trillions of animals a year. If only he had never snuck out of his house as a seventeen-year old farmhand, running towards that mysterious bright light... | 2014-05-06T07:00:29 | 2014-05-06T06:49:25 | 41 | 19 |
[WP] Everyone gets a power that develops sometime around their twenty-first birthday; yours is big and flashy. What is it and why does no one ever notice when you use it? | No-one really knows what circumstances led to us being like this, all we know is what happened next.
The displays of strength strength and agility were swiftly followed by grand rivalries. Few of these were actually heroic, many people simply used their abilities to cash in on the social media storm that exploded around the suden rise in super powers.
Sadly, most powers were used for crimes. The robberies, looting, fighting. Sometimes city blocks were levelled, some were levelled, and some became impassable jungle. I would say why can't people keep these powers to themselves, but I'd be a hypocrit.
Then came healers. Those with uncanny sight or smell, an incredible ability to diagnose or even reverse illnesses and injuries. We're all glad for the amount of people that stepped up on this front.
Mostly though, people got mild powers. The ability to draw water from the air, or levitate off the ground. It makes for good party tricks, but isn't particularly useful.
People still went about their lives, just in new and slightly more interesting ways.
They became complacent with theit new found powers, even amid the massive displays of ego and destruction that occasionally ripped through their towns.
I tried to remain complacent for a while. I tried to avoid using that which was granted to me, but even that had consequences, with the way the world is now.
Every morning when I turn on the news, I am bombarded with a fresh entry to the climate obituary. Droughts. Floods. Crop shortages. I slog through these until the forcast arrives.
He always wanted to be a weatherman. Well, I say always, every since he had developed a superhuman foresight. Before that it was just an interest in the climate. Apparently he just knew that we weren't going to work out. Never told me why or tried to work with me to fix our issues, just up and left. Bit of a shit thing to do, I thought, but now it fuels my fire.
Todays prediction: Another heatwave. That won't do. If the farms need rain, I'll make it happen. Sure, I'm doing my part to help, but mainly I've always loved the look on his face when I prove him wrong. | When the meteor from Andromeda crashed in the earth on October 8th, 1911, hundreds of millions died. But the rest of us kept on living as if nothing had happened. Nonetheless, something did happen. On the 21st birthday of every human who survived and every human born afterwards, a great power was given to each on their 21st birthday.
Looking back, mine had to have been the worst birthday ever. Without any friends I decided to visit downtown. In late spring the crowds were sparse in the open market. It was a bright and colorful day with a smattering of vendors under tents selling their wares. And there I waited until 1pm, the hour of my birth.
I should have known something like this would happen. My mother loved those 1960s beach party movies. The ones where the surfer boys and girls would spontaneously break into song and dance when someone found an old guitar.
So I was horrified and mortified when my clothes turned into white leather with fringes. I found myself with oversized rhinestone sunglasses. I could feel my side burns growing down my face. My belly became round with fat, and my legs started shaking back and forth. I found myself playing a guitar and singing 'Love Me Tender', out of tune, with a greatly exaggerated lip curl. I had become a sidewalk Elvis Presley impersonator.
No one took a second glance at me, thank the gods. However I did earn five bucks from tips thrown into my open guitar case. In the afternoon sun, I was big and flashy and, mostly, ignored. | 2022-07-13T02:59:23 | 2022-07-12T21:18:26 | 33 | 24 |
[WP] All superpowers have a ‘hangover’ effect. For example, after using super strength for the day, the morning after you can’t even lift your spoon to eat your breakfast. You wake up one morning after using your own specific superpower and you feel pretty hungover...
[deleted] | You know how when you fall asleep on your arm and you wake up and feel that tingly feeling? Yeah? Well imagine that through your entire body. That's not what it is, of course, it's actually just at the base of my skull. But 'The Buzz' as I've come to know it as creeps into my brain stem on the really bad recoil days.
When I was younger it was great. I could use my powers day and night, and in the morning I'd only feel a slight tingle. But now, if I lift for even ten minutes I'm guaranteed a ruined morning from the recoil.
What can I do? Like how much do I lift?
Oh, you want to know my superpower? Oh yeah, I totally spaced it, sorry I'm still recoiling a bit and it's all a bit fuzzy. I can use telekinesis.
I mean, of course we've all tried the home remedies, right? Tea, coffee, exercise, massage, sex. Sorry, was that tmi? Ok, ok. But you know what I mean, you read articles like "Top Ten Ways to Avoid Recoil", you try them, and realize you just have to ride the storm.
Not use my powers? I mean, I try not to go overboard, and right now it's really only when I push myself that I get bad recoil, but no, I'm not gonna stop.
Why? It's who I am, it's what I do. No one is coming up to you saying "Oh, you're tired typing up this report, why don't you quit being a reporter" you-you gotta take the good with the bad, and what? I'm supposed to give up being ranked third in the *world*, as a hero, just so I don't feel a bit of discomfort? I'm sorry, but I can't imagine *not* using my gifts.
*Mymyr*? The street drug? Yeah, it might numb the pain, but it doesn't get rid of recoil, and even then, it only numbs physical types, like speed or strength. People like Phantasm, or uh uh, what's his face? Dragoon, or me even, our recoil is too specific for something like mymyr.
Well, anyway, I have to get back to work, thanks for having me | It's been 5 years since the first quackman appeared, a being with superpowers that have a 'hangover' effect. The man was bulletproof one day and the next a paper cut during the press interview caused him to faint due to excessive blood loss.
Now there are beings with all kinds of powers coming up, all quackmen with a day of heroics and the next day of being ultra weak, it's a chess board out there, no one uses their powers unnecessary lest they not be able to stop the next terrorist attack by the Grand Baddies, an organisation of quackmen who aren't on the side of righteousness and good.
Me, well I am your average government employee without any powers and am right now dealing with the mess last night's battle between the Grand Baddies and government employed quackmen or the Quackers.
After my long day at work I go to a nearby bar and drink and suddenly I blackout.
The next morning the sun hits my eyes and I awaken feeling light-headed and then I throw up. What the hell is going on. I turn on the news and it rocks my world.
Turns out last night my powers awakened and the powers were the ability to control all minds, I went berserk brainwashing all the Grand Baddies into working for the government, but that's not all I made the entire populace make me their ruler and in celebration controlled myself to drink all the wine I could. The news channels are praising me as a God and this mansion is pretty swell and I can do pretty much what I want forever with my 'believers'.
So let the fun begin!
| 2018-08-19T04:42:57 | 2018-08-19T04:31:42 | 30 | 15 |
[WP] The night shift at Firehouse 1260 is legendary for its daring and heroic rescues. When you join the company, you learn that the firefighters are all vampires. | For Hadley Kemp, stepping into Firehouse 1260 made him so happy he could die.
The station still had red brick walls, like it was transported out of time. Hadley ran a hand over the brick, quietly marvelling at how warm to the touch they felt. He couldn’t resist grasping the firehouse pole, looking forward to the day when he could slide down. Or maybe not—because that would mean something was on fire. Hadley sidled sheepishly away from the pole, hanging and shaking his head a little.
And then, he laid eyes on the real reason he was here.
“Captain Dedman,” Hadley whispered under his breath.
The captain turned towards the newcomer, smiled, and walked up. Hadley soon found himself eclipsed in height by Dedman, who held out an arm that could be easily mistaken as a normal human’s thigh. Hadley took his hand, fiery adrenaline pumping through his veins like a magma ready to blow.
“New recruit, Hadley Kemp,” Dedman shook firmly with a perfect grip. “Glad to see you here.”
“Glad to be here, Captain Dedman,” Hadley stood dumbfounded, shaking his hand like a broken cuckoo clock. “I’m… I’m a huge fan.”
The captain laughed, and patted Hadley on the shoulder.
“I’m not a celebrity, and you are not my fan,” Dedman said. “I’m just doing my job.”
“How can I not be?” Hadley giggled. “I mean… you and your guys are the stuff of legends! The daring heroes of the night, always there to pull off the impossible.”
“It is nice to hear someone gushing about us like that,” the captain laughed heartily. “It almost makes me feel bad that there isn’t a fire today, so we can’t show off what we do.”
“I have to admit, I did have that terrible thought just now too,” Hadley chuckled. “But, yeah, I do wish I could see you guys in action.”
Captain Dedman smiled, and then slowly backed away from Hadley. The captain clicked his boots together, immediately prompting Hadley to straighten up and sombre out.
“Good, good. Tell me, Hadley. Do you know the kind of men and women Firehouse 1260 likes to bring into the fold?”
“The best of the best,” Hadley said, puffing his chest out with pride. “Vigilance all night, till the morning light.”
“Well done,” Dedman said, and he began pacing around Hadley. “Do you know how we do it?”
“I’m here to learn.”
Hadley felt a hand wrap around his neck from the back. He hadn’t noticed just how cold it was, each finger like an icy chain locking him in place. The grip wasn’t choking, but perfectly firm, and he could feel his blood pumps ringing in his eardrums. Instinctively, his brain was screaming at him to move, to run—but his rational side was worried that trying to rip his neck out of this unholy strength might decapitate him.
“Human,” Dedman said, his tone now flowing thick and slow, like a frosty fjord nonchalantly drifting downstream. “Do you know the kind of men and women Firehouse 1260 have?”
“The best of the best,” Hadley said, again.
“That’s right. I’m impressed with you, Hadley, I really am,” the captain said. “But you are only human. An impressive one, albeit, and that’s why you are even here. But to stay… requires a bit more commitment.”
Hadley could feel the warmth escaping his body, diverted into the cold hand that held his neck. He suppressed the urge to shiver, trying to remain strong.
“Who… who are you?”
“An ascended being,” Dedman said. Hadley heard the hiss of fangs. “We quell the fires to own the night.”
“But… you’ve saved so many people!”
“Some, yes. But think about how many people are dead by the time we get there,” Dedman said. “It’s warm food, going to waste. And we are very conscious about that nowadays. And if we are still feeling peckish, one more body in the burn pile isn’t anything special.”
Hadley squirmed, his muscles spasming periodically, like thousands of small electric bolts were sent through him.
“That’s the horrifying reality of Firehouse 1260,” Dedman said. “And if you aren’t ready for it, you shall be—”
Hadley screamed, unable to contain himself.
“So. Goddamn. Cool!”
Dedman clicked his tongue, slightly miffed that he was interrupted.
“Cool”
“The way I see it, you are still doing a service to the community,” Hadley said. “You, and everybody else, still saved lives, and will continue to do so. All the deaths were because of a freak accident. Full of blood or not, I don’t see any difference that will make.”
Dedman walked in front of Hadley, his gripped hand remaining on the neck. The captain scrutinized the new recruit’s face for what felt like eternity.
“You aren’t lying,” Dedman finally said.
“I’m not,” Hadley said. “This place is for the best of the best. I’m honoured to even be here.”
Dedman smiled, baring his sharp fangs, glistening unnaturally under the fluorescent light.
“Then, would you like to stay here forever?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Hadley smiled wide.
---
r/dexdrafts | I walked into Firehouse 1260 at 9:30pm for my first shift, my duffel slung over one shoulder. Three guys were sitting in the common area on the couch. The TV was on, but they seemed to be ignoring it and having an animated conversation.
“...pretty subtle, but your echoes will come back a little different across a rising heat column like that,” one of the guys was telling the others when he saw me.
“Hey new guy!” He called across the room. I recognized the voice. This must be Eddie, the shift supervisor.
He stood up and came over to shake my hand.
“Keith Davis,” I said, introducing myself.
“Keith, I’m Eddie.” Eddie had a big, confident voice and a firm handshake. “I got three rules for you Keith. Follow ‘em, and you’ll fit in fine. One, if I ever give you an order, it’ll be for your or someone else’s safety, and you better follow it. Two, when it’s your turn to cook, check the recipe list. Some of the guys are sensitive to certain things, you know, spicy stuff, garlicky stuff. If you want to add a recipe, run it by the guys first. Three, and this is important Keith: keep an open mind.”
I wasn’t sure I fully understood his last rule, but I nodded. “I can do that.”
\* \* \*
Three weeks into working night shifts at 1260, I was starting to doubt the reputation I’d heard about this group. They could have been any other crew I’d worked with. We’d done a handful of medical assistance calls, a few small building fires, but nothing I hadn’t seen before.
But the first real test of Eddie’s rules came up one night when we responded to a motorcycle accident on Hancock Road.
We were the first on the scene, and it was clear the guy was already gone. No helmet; he probably died on impact. It was a grisly scene.
“Keith, why don’t you pack up, we’re going to do a little, uh, prayer for the poor guy.” Eddie said to me. I stared back.
“You’re going to pray for him?”
“That’s right. Just something the guys and I like to do when someone doesn’t make it.”
I hauled gear back to the truck and watched the rest of the crew suspiciously. They gathered around the dead man in a circle. I stopped in my tracks when I saw them all kneel down around the body. What kind of prayer is this? I saw them all lean in over the body, and I couldn’t help it. I walked over to the group.
“What is this?” I asked.
Eddie stood up suddenly, taking a huge, deep breath, his eyes closed. It was like he’d just snorted a line of cocaine. I swear I saw him lick something red off his lower lip.
“Keith!” He said. “You remember my rules, right?”
“Yeah, but, what--” I began.
“Can you handle this, Keith? Or not?” Eddie interrupted me.
I nodded.
\* \* \*
It was around the end of the month that I got my first real look at the heroism I’d heard about.
We responded to a building fire, and it was serious. Initial report said we had as many as 3 people trapped inside, but the blaze made most ingress points too dangerous.
I met Eddie and another firefighter talking over a plan to go in.
“...go in on the second floor, Charlie, and we’ll set up below.” Eddie was saying. Charlie turned without a word and headed toward the building. I watched him go. What was he doing, charging toward the fire like that?
“Keith!” Eddie shouted, and I looked at him. In the corner of my eye, there was a strange motion, and a fluttering. I looked over. Charlie was nowhere to be found. But there was a… was that a bat? It was flying up to the second story window, and it zipped right into the building.
“Did you see…?” I started to say. Keith wasn’t paying attention.
“Get the crash pads, Keith, we’re going to have victims coming out of the second story.”
I did as I was told. In the end, we were the heroes of the day. All the occupants were saved through a second story window, and Charlie didn’t have a scratch on him to show for it.
And it was that night that I realized something. I wanted in.
\* \* \*
When I told Eddie I knew what was going on, he didn’t even look surprised. But when I told him what I wanted, a dark look crossed his face.
“Not a chance, Keith.” He said. “No one’s going to bite you, don’t ask. That’s an order.”
“But…” I protested.
“Remember my rules, Keith. I made ‘em for a reason.” And he turned away, a haunted expression in his eyes. | 2022-01-17T10:07:38 | 2022-01-17T09:40:24 | 31 | 23 |
[WP] By 2200, one cup of fortified gruel a day provides all the food a body needs, and eating meat is illegal. You run a bootleg hamburger joint/speakeasy in Harlem. | “Password.”
“Two pickles?”
“Come in.”
You see, I had to be cautious in those dark days - for all I knew, a myriad of FBI agents were preparing to erupt through my doors, confiscate my buns, incinerate my beef, and use my hot dogs to sodomise me into leaking the names of my suppliers. Passwords were the only way to keep safe.
In stepped Jerry. He was a regular customer, always ordering a double cheeseburger with a side of gruel-infused coleslaw. Why he ate that stuff at our meaty refuge, I do not know, but it was cheap, easy to produce, and kept him coming, so I’d oblige.
Just as he sat down to feast upon his meat, he asked for a napkin. As I produced one from the desk behind me, he plucked a thin, neat biro from his chest pocket and wrote down “*I HAVE A MIC. ACT LIKE YOU GAVE ME FAKE BEEF.*”
“Uh...” I was stuttering. How was I supposed to know what to say in this situation? “Funny that we call a cylinder of gruel a burger and people eat it like the real thing, right?”
At that, I thought my trials and tribulations were over, yet I was oh so naïve.
A mere three days later, I heard the same knock on the door, but with a shakier approach. Upon asking for the password, I was greeted by Jerry’s familiar voice, but this time with an unfamiliar quiver.
I turned behind me, glanced at my cooks, and nodded. Within thirty seconds, they surrounded the door with pots and pans containing bubbling, boiling oil. I opened the door nonchalantly, unsurprised when Jerry entered with a gun to his head, followed by a cluster of agents in pristine suits.
I dove on Jerry, pushing him out of the way, and my cooks promptly sprayed our unwelcome intruders with greasy goodness, releasing shrieks and misguided gunfire all around.
I knew from that moment that things had changed. This was no longer a secret operation - it was war, and food was our weapon. | The wars. That's what I told myself when he asked me how gruel became the norm. But those aren't the words I spoke to him, my son Hoss. I told him "It's just how things have to be son, we all have to settle." "But why do you have a secret meat restaurant?" "You ask too many questions kid, someday you'll understand..."
How could I expect a kid to understand the sacred bond between man and meat? My father instilled it in me when I was 18. This world seems to have forgotten that. I won't. I can't. That's why i'm here. In this hidden parlor, where my pops and I serve the greatest food in the world to the highest clientele. I know it's risky. They already came once. The Feds. They agreed to let me keep running my business if they fucked my wife. She died in the process. Some people ask, "Is it worth never seeing your son again?" I always keep to me and mine, not giving them an inch of an answer. But inside I know they have a point. Everyday I imagine the Feds busting in and ending my operation. But i'll always continue to serve the best burgers and meat in Harlem. I’m Rick Harrison, and this is my Harlem Speakeasy. I work here with my old man and my son, Big Hoss. Every meat in here has a story and a price. One thing I’ve learned after 21 years – you never know WHAT is gonna come through that door | 2017-07-25T09:47:02 | 2017-07-25T07:10:18 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] When humans join the galactic community, we find out that the domestication of animals is a rare feat unique to us. Aliens are amazed by our training of dogs, riding of horses, comfort with cats, and so on. This has had a profound effect on perceptions of our species... | It had only been a few years since humans joined the rest of the galaxy, and already a great controversy had arisen from the combination. The Galactic Council of the Free People had discussed this matter on and off, but it was only since last year that this debate became of such grace importance.
Humans had just "domesticated" a moon of Lower Sapients - bi-pedal reptilian creatures, with a few words of language, basic medicine and bows and arrows - who slipped into the category.
Some thought the humans had offered technology or protection, but they did not.
Some called it enslavement, but neither was it involuntary. It was like they had somehow shunted the unspoken hierarchy down, and placed themselves on top. They would say a command, and they would hunt for them, even perform acrobatics, and dance!
"These are merely parlour tricks!" Shouted one of the members across the enormous, ancient wooden hall. "Nothing more!"
"Yes, Schmig!" Kirtan chortled. "Keep telling yourself that when the humans are making more Sapients jump through hoops!" A pale old, green-haired woman rose.
"Agreed! How long before we ourselves are like those lizard pets of theirs! They fell to their bidding quicker than any animal on earth. We may all be susceptible!" Vehement murmurings spread across the room, of panic, and outrage.
"Settle!" A resounding smack of a hammer cast silence upon them. "I think it is time for a hearing from the representative."
The great entrance doors screeched open, and in came a boy of roughly teenage years. Some members had forbidden the representative being an adult as they were "too intelligent".
"You bring him in here?" Bellowed Kirtan. "So close we could touch him? Do you wish for the whole council to be corrupted by-"
"For God's sake man, he is a child!" Boomed the chairman.
"I don't care if he's an infant!" Cried the green-haired woman. "We all know they play with dogs twice their size before they can walk!" She points a finger to the child "You, boy! Tell me why you try to bind collars round our necks! Is there no end to your power!"
The boy's eyes widen sadly. A deep ocean of blue. So sad they were impossible to look away from.
"I don't know what you mean miss." He whispered. "I'm very sorry if I have hurt you." The silence was so crisp the woman's breathing could be heard slowing down, and she guiltily steps back an inch.
"I'm not going to hurt you. I don't want to. That's a great opportunity for me to be friendly, and you to be friendly, so we can both be friends." He tentatively took the slightest step towards her. Everyone seemed wary, but the feeling was soon swept away by the irresistible aura emanating from him. So steadfast, wise, dependable.
He slowly walked over to her, and touched her head with feather-weight pressure. She hugged him.
"Oh dear boy, you have kind words. Is there anything I can do to help you feel more at home?" He smiled warmly.
"Well, as a new friend, I would really appreciate a glass of water please. And maybe after that I can show you how to shake hands like humans do."
"Oh of course dear! I'll go fetch!" She scampered off.
The boy took a seat, and grinned. . . | Dear Dairy...
The first day on the ship, as the first human in interstellar space, I obviously had some difficulties with cultural differences. Here's a bit of what happened today, when I was fetched for a walk through the ship...
"So, Vokra'? Is it okay if I bring my dog along on the tour?"
It was still hard to read Vokra's expressions, but they seemed to be surprised by the question. "What is a DOG? Why do you need to bring an item on tour? You, Human, are here as a representative of your solar system. You did bring only your highly necessary possessions, did you not? I assume you could bring items along, as long as they are truly necessary." said the voice from his translator.
"Well, a dog is not really an item, you see..." I stepped aside so he could see into my cabin, where Bastion was sitting. "This is Bastion, He's my helping dog."
"It is a beast..." Vokra' said, maybe disappointed, maybe shocked, "When you say helping dog, do you mean to imply you gained its sympathy?"
"Err, in a way, yeah. I mean, dogs are bred with sympathy for humans. However, Bastion is a helping dog because he's been trained to notice symptoms of my illness. The illness is called Epilepsy, but I don't know if the translator knows human illnesses."
Vokra' grabbed their communicator. "Chief? You need to see this." They looked at me, and closed their eyes in deep thought. "So, please confirm if my understanding is correct. You are able to train beasts in the same way you train your own young?"
I frowned. "Yes. Well, no. I'm not that good at it, but my brother is skilled in training dogs and birds. It's his profession."
"Training of beasts is a profession on earth?"
"Yessir. Isn't in your solar system?"
"No," they answered, "Beasts are far too unintelligent to grasp commands, even through a translating device. And most of them are even dangerous. Could you show me?"
"Bastion?" I called. Bastion looked up attentively. "Would you like to come here please?" Bastion yawned, stretched and stood up. He walked towards us, but was careful not to approach the six-eyed alien too closely. He whimpered softly. Apparently the mic on the translator was sensitive enough to catch Bastions whimper, and the machine blurted out "I dislike the strange creature".
Vokra' decided he was not to be my tour guide that day, and locked me in my cabin again... Now I need to train Bastion to shut up around translators... This is going to be a long trip. | 2017-06-05T03:21:58 | 2017-06-05T01:55:07 | 46 | 27 |
[WP] When you were a child, you saw an alien spaceship in your neighborhood. Nobody believed you back then. When the aliens revealed themselves, nobody believed you still. Even after you became a diplomat representing Earth in the galactic society, everyone denies that you can see spaceships. | My glass was empty. I'd poured the last of Decembers paycheque into the bar tender's Christmas fund. Maybe I had enough left for one more. I'd have to check my bank account.
I felt like I'd taken a slight fall just from that thought. It was better to live in ignorance and hope than actually look at the pain I'd caused myself.
The hotel way nearby, but it was a cold night in Berlin. My jacket wasn't made for this climate; it was for light rain not snow, shlush and ice. The bitter chill didn't help either.
"You're the UFO guy." A voice said from the dim past.
I breathed out and looked at my breath in the air a moment before I turned to see a couple of drunk students coming out of a taxi. I smiled and laughed as if I was part of the joke. "Yep." I said.
"Dude, DUDE." He reached for his phone. He started inexplicably playing my weird viral sensation from a decade back to me. I was my younger self reaching for the sky and screaming to the world on live TV that they were blind and were being lead around by idiots. Then the dance music kicked it, and the remix I loathed started.
Another of the students pulled out a phone, and started videoing the video, then switched to selfie mode "HEY. It's the guy. The UFO GUY. Woooooooo." Everyone screamed pointing the camera at me. I smiled and pretended to be entertained.
After a few moments they went quiet, while they posted the video to wherever, and moved into the bar I'd left. They screamed about the UFO guy, and I moved out of earshot.
Entering the hotel the instant warmth embraced me as the spinning door let me escape. Everything went white, and for a single moment I could think I was on the hotel lobby. That single instant.
I stepped out onto red metal and bright lights. I felt a sudden wave of sick rise at the back of my throat which often was the result of drinking, it was also the effect of the Xathor transmat system on the human digestive system. It was one of the multitude of reasons I didn't like being the Earth ambassador.
"Greetings Garth." A twelve foot green mass said into my very soul.
"Hey Wren'Xloc." I got off the transmat platform "You know this isn't a great time."
"Garth. You asked that you were allowed to spend your money in peace. We detected that the last of your money had left your bank account, and you were entering the place to sleep." They aliens didn't think in words, so it had been hard to them to adapt to human thought, they had though, after many failed attempts it seemed.
Most humans who saw the aliens simply couldn't comprehend what they saw. They saw something moving in 5 dimensions and their brain just said absolutely not, and it no longer happened. The entire UN were taken aboard a ship at one point, and all it did was make everyone act like an idiot for a decade while they justified all sorts of self (and world) destructive behaviours.
The ships hung over Earth in strategic locations for the purpose of monitoring them, and in the hopes they could solve that had become the 'human problem', that being that we simply refused to admit the Xathor existed in any meaningful way.
At first I thought they were using some techno solution like a Somebody Else's Problem ray, or a Perception Filter. No, we were just that blind to large scale issues. If we can't handle it, we change reality so it doesn't exist for us. It was a trully depressing thought.
Xathor's top human scientist's current theory is it was my unique combination of mental health issues, chemicals in the water growing up, and my utter unwillingness with multiple therapists over decades to admit I might not have seen alien spaceships as a child, and everyday since. They have asked if they can try to replicate my situation, as there will be a day humanity wants to enter the galactic age, probably within a generation. I have stated on behalf of Earth that we wouldn't allow that kind of experimentation. Arguing that with our scientific method, I'm a single datapoint, and they would need more. They seemed to respect that.
The towering mass started to move "There is another of.... you."
I became instantly sober. I don't know if it was hope or fear. | 'Hapa, lookit that tree! I bet I can climb it! Can I please climb it?'
The old man turned his wrinkled head toward the sound of the idiotic child.
'Don't call me Hapa. You can call me Hadrian. You don't need permission from me to climb trees. Do whatever the hell you want. I don't care what your uncle tells you. I really don't care.'
The boy didn't listen to the tone in Hadrian's voice. He screamed and laughed, and Hadrian didn't need to look back in his direction to hear the boy scraping up the tree and breaking branches. Wasn't that tree the same sort that he had climbed on? Back in early days? Back on *the* day?
Back on the day there was a deafening noise and a tiny young Hadrian tried to run and hide in his mother's basement because he hated the sound and the vibrations and the smell in the air like a diesel car exploding and everything happened all at once but it turned out to be okay. Because they weren't 'bad' guys who had landed in his backyard. They were the 'good' ones, they explained. And they took him in, and gave him a tour. And later Hadrian ran into his mother's arms, yelling that he had been on a spaceship. And saw one. And his mother didn't believe him, had no intention of believing him, because it made no sense. She patiently explained that there was no way Hadrian could have seen a spaceship.
Hadrian knew what he had seen; what he saw every month during his meetings with the ZA-sector cyclic group. It was impossible that he was seeing the neon-like lights of an alien ship, yes, but that is exactly what he saw. Once, Hadrian wanted the world to know all about the otherworldly technology, and how he was often viewing what should have been impossible. Now, nothing like that mattered to him. What sort of benefit would it give to him to tell the world, exactly? It would remove his attention from pensionbought cocktails and deep fried onions. Things that actually mattered.
Hadrian turned to the sound of footsteps coming though soft, tropical sand. Doubtless the footsteps of a tall man in a clean suit. 'Bernard? You've gotta ask someone else. Who wants to get something like this stopped? I'm sure you can see what's around ya. Paradise. Now, give me a far-out break and give the job to Lizzie.'
Bernard stopped next to Hadrian and talked in an annoyingly musical voice. 'You really haven't changed, have you, my old friend? They'll only take you in specifically as first contact. You're the ambassador, and you're great at it. You need to do your job.'
'I'm gonna convince you I can see the shuttleship first. The UN pretends to give a crap about interplanetary affairs and their board still refuses to believe me when I tell them I can see one little spaceboat'.
Hadrian didn't look, but Bernard presumably smiled. 'I can see it. You can't.'
'I can.'
'Tell me which direction it is. It's already parked.'
'That way'. Hadrian pointed vaguely to the north.
'Wrong, my friend. It's in the exact opposite direction.'
'Their mapping system needs calibration.'
'So you say, my friend. So you say. Do you need me to roll you over?'
'Of course.'
Hadrian regrettably needed the little government thimble Bernard to roll him over to meetings. He could see the spaceships and meeting rooms. He couldn't see the twigs and rocks and people in the way of them. Or anything, for that matter, since he got in that accident with that downed power line when he was five he barely remembered.
But he could see spaceships. | 2022-01-05T09:06:11 | 2022-01-05T07:08:56 | 79 | 20 |
[WP] You bought a pair of headphones that are acting up. Every time you plug them in, you hear a different sound - first crying, then a war-zone, now just static. You plug them in again and are frightened to hear a desperate, tearful warning: "Whatever you do, DON'T unplug the headphones again." | The issue wasn't how odd it was for the headphones to be acting up. Technology is a fickle thing and there could have been any number of reasons why.
No, what bugged me was that the voice I heard was the precise voice of my mother, right down to the way she emphasized "don't" because she knew I can be a real idiot.
A couple of things about my mother:
-She was a technophobe. The odds of her figuring out how to contact me by headphone were about the same as the odds of a dog mastering the saxophone.
-She had a lovely singing voice. She could bring a roomful of strangers to tears with her rendition of Ave Maria.
-She was dead. Breast cancer. Her funeral was 9 months ago.
That was what short-circuited my brain. That's why my fingers pulled the plug on the headphones before my cerebellum had time to register what was happening.
The headphones went quiet again, and I had time to think.
I'd heard crying, war, static, and my mother. She told me not to unplug the headphones. Why? Were the headphones connecting to different channels in heaven? Did they control something here on earth? Or, far more likely, was this all down to faulty headphones picking up radio waves?
My palpitating heart voted for heaven, my quivering tummy voted for earth, but my commonsense voted for faulty equipment. It couldn't have been my mother on the other end. I thought it was her because I wanted to hear her. That's all. A stray bubble of sadness happened to rise to the top at the moment I heard a voice similar to hers speaking.
I took a couple breaths to steady myself, then plugged the headphones in again.
What I heard was something layered, tragic, and humbling.
I heard fiery death. Guns fired, blades butchered, and missiles detonated.
I heard the wailing of the desperate and dying. Theirs was an arpeggiated sorrow, staggered by the passing of lives.
And last of all I heard that beautiful sound. It reduced me to tears. Over all the hurt and suffering around her, my mother sang Ave Maria.
The song finished with the lines: *Ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora mortis, in hora mortis nostrae*.
As she'd taught me when I was younger, this meant: Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.
After the song ended, she spoke to me in a voice heavy with emotion. "I wanted a chance to say bye, my love. There's no more heaven."
"What is happening?" I asked. "Mom? Can you hear me?"
An overwhelming blast came through the headphones, nearly deafening me.
Then there was silence, not even a hint of static.
I remained on the park bench for some hours before heading back to work. I wasn't sure what I'd been witness to.
My mother loved me. I could only be sure of that.
*****
*r/TravisTea* | “What?” I muttered, going to unplug them again. Then it spoke again. The same line. “Whatever you do, DON’T unplug the headphones again.” Whoever was saying that... sounded familiar. Like an old voice wrapped into my brain years ago when I was still in school. Then it went to static, cutting out the person. “Who are you?” I asked, wondering if this worked like a phone call. “Grand-“ Static “You have to-“ What? Was this just a virus on these headphones? “The world will-“ again came the static, choking out the rest of what they said. “What sick prank is this?” I growled out, going to unplug the headphones again. “No! Grandparent! Please! We need you to-“ they cut out. A loud bang, leading to silence. A war zone. What a stupid prank. I unplugged the head phones, walking outside. “Run! Their going to kill us!” Someone shouted. Mr. Montser from down the street. He belongs to that voice. “Wha-“ a gunshot. It was close to a gunshot but it wasn’t. Not at all. When I saw who shot him it wasn’t a who. It was a what. It seemed to look like a person slightly. Their ears gone and their body’s tall and lean, the weapons that they carried only belonging to a fantasy. One of them shouted something in a different language, turning and aiming their weapon at me. “That’s the one! They are the only one that is strong enough!” They shouted, their words now in English. “What are you doing!” I shouted, running back in my home, an impulse taking me to my phone. “Plug them in!” A voice shouted in my head. So I did, plugging the headphones back in. The banging on my door stopped, the terrified people and bloody streets fixed themselves. I listened to the headphones. Was that what stopped that? “Oh my god! It worked! You stopped it!” The voice shouted in the headphones. “What did I fix?” I asked myself. “The world is stitching itself back together!” They shouted, the headphones falling out of the socket of my phone, falling out of my ears as well. “What in the world just happened?” I asked myself, standing up. | 2020-04-01T21:12:25 | 2020-04-01T20:54:45 | 2,148 | 13 |
[WP] Create a "Choose Your Own Adventure" with an infinite loop. Bonus points for working as many choices into the outcome as possible. | After hours of stumbling through the darkness and stormy weather, you finally manage to find a cave to hide in. Dry firewood is in short supply, but you manage to scrounge enough up to make a weak fire to warm yourself up and maybe dry your clothes.
God, how did it come to this? Just yesterday, you were in the laboratory putting the finishing touches on the Machine. And now you're lost out in the wilds with no supplies and no way home. But at least it didn't kill you. Always look on the bright side, right?
You somehow manage to fall asleep against the most comfortable boulder you can find. When you awaken, your clothes are still damp, but at least wearable. The rain has dissipated, leaving a muddy soaked forest outside the cave entrance. With the morning light, you're finally able to explore your surroundings more carefully. A thin crevice reveals that the cave goes back much further than you ever anticipated! You consider going to explore, but your stomach rumbles in disagreement.
[Click here to explore the cave](http://www.reddit.com/r/Luna_Lovewell/comments/2yoo5c/choose_your_own_adventure/cpbh891)
[Click here to go find some food](http://www.reddit.com/r/Luna_Lovewell/comments/2yoo5c/choose_your_own_adventure/cpbhgjf)
----
ALL DONE! There are 18 different parts! Please let me know if you find any inconsistencies in the story! | (My wirless is currently offline so I will get it running in the morning to continue the prompt!)
---
"Weeeeeeeeeeeelcooooome to the adventure of a lifetime!"
The voice boomed throughout the arcade, yet no one else seemed to hear it. The store owner had said this was the game that was going to bring back arcades, but in your mind you didn't really believe him.
"Chooooooose your struggle, or combine two!"
A prompt appeared with several choices that appeared to be genres? Well that's vague.
--> Fantasy!
--> Sci Fi!
--> Horror!
--> Mystery?
--> Action!
--> History!
--> Fiction?
--> Comedy!
Pleeeease select now!
---
(Please let me know if there is a genre that you would want that isn't there and I'll add it.) | 2015-03-11T08:13:14 | 2015-03-11T08:11:41 | 786 | 21 |
[WP] Convicted criminals can choose to shorten their sentence. The only catch is the more it is shortened, the worse the conditions are where they are held. Describe a one night stay.
Thanks guys, I'm reading all of them. Keep it coming! | My eyes squinted as they were bombarded by the bright, painful light as soon as the door opened.
"Step forward, Mr. Moraeu," I heard a voice say.
As soon as they adjusted to the familiar courtroom, I awkwardly moved my exhausted legs towards the judge.
"Am I to understand that you want your sentence reduced to a day?" she asked.
There was something about those words that struck a chord in my memory, but the light had pushed it out of my mind.
I nodded feebly, too parched to say anything.
"You realize how difficult it will be to endure. Are you sure you wish to continue?" She eyed me.
Unable to produce any words, I nodded.
"Very well." She banged her gavel. "May God have mercy on your soul."
I felt rough hands grab my arms and drag me off my feet only to pull me back to a new cell block. There were no bars, no windows, and, seemingly, no prisoners. Only locker-esque doors.
A glasses wearing doctor met me by the an open door with a clipboard. "And what did *you* do?" he said before whistling out of amusement. "Boy, I've seen a lot of things here, but that...that's something else."
He reached into his coat and grabbed a syringe. "Maybe this time it'll be different," he said, sticking the needle in my arm before the guards threw me into the room and shut the door behind me, plunging me into darkness.
&nbsp;
How long has it been? How many hours? How many days? How many years.
There is no light, no sound, no food, no water. There is absolutely nothing in this blackness.
Once, I thought I'd heard someone trying to break me out with a hammer, but it was only my own heart beat.
I had to calm down. They said that the punishment would only be a day. I'm sure they would get me soon.
Or would they? I couldn't be sure. Tons of my friends were never heard from again after insisting on a One Day Sentence. Maybe I was falling down the same path.
&nbsp;
I had resolved to escape the next chance I got. No matter what awaits me, it cannot be worse than the hell that is nothingness.
After what seemed like centuries, the door opened a crack. I was ready. As soon as it was open enough, I bolted.
I ran. I ran like the wind. I ran like my life depended on it. I ran like my heart was going to explode.
I didn't even bother to look back at the orderly who was no doubt surprised to see me run.
Pushing myself past door after door, I finally found a pair of double doors that looked like the way out.
&nbsp;
My eyes squinted as they were bombarded by the bright, painful light as soon as the door opened.
"Step forward, Mr. Moraeu," I heard a voice say.
As soon as they adjusted to the familiar courtroom, I awkwardly moved my exhausted legs towards the judge.
"Am I to understand that you want your sentence reduced to a day?" she asked.
Edit: Some minor formatting and grammer | The small fires peppering the main hall of block 99-J lit up the dark, cavernous halls like a symphony. They kept the power off because they kept having to evetually send maintenance men, and after what happened to the last four, they stopped coming.
Someone's wet, muffled screams just stopped, and are now replaced with cackling laughter. I look down the hall to see another prisoner, carrying one slung over his shoulder, like an ape. Someone ran at him with a knife, and he used the, likely dead, body as a human shield, and then in the way someone might use a club. This place reminds me of a book I read once. Can't remember which one. Can't really remember reading many books.
Now where was I? Oh yeah, 99-J. Well what do you expect when you get a day and a half for triple homicide? They didn't even have most of the blood off me, they were putting me in a room and asking me how long I wanted to be in jail. Well I said I didn't and they said fat chance. But then they said a new place was opening up, for people with my sorta needs. The reality was, Ableridge was shutting down because of the riots. They didn't want a send in the Guard to evacuate or blow it up with everyone still in. So they lock it up extra tight, and let anyone who makes it out go. Usually they've had their fill of mayhem by that point, though I can't seem to recall the last person that actually made it.
So they lift me, in a helicopter like. Only time I ever flew in my life, God what fun. Sorta makes you look at the pilot and wonder why here's where he is and you's where you is... Nevermind. So they take me right over top. Point to the front door, and said if you can last a day and a half, they'll let you out right quick. Then they shoved me out, hit the middle of the rec yard and broke a wrist.
As the howls of the boys get closer and more guttural, my grip grows tighter, thus, the string on my shiv seems too thin to protect my hand, and my wrist grows wet. I'm tired, but still urging for that hot, iron taste in the back of my throat. Just hours to go. Well, maybe a bit of sleep before...
The small, peppering fires lit up the dark, cavernous halls of 99-J like an opera. I feel like my dreams keep getting wilder and wilder.... | 2015-10-27T07:22:42 | 2015-10-27T06:51:29 | 46 | 16 |
[WP]You were born without magic in a prestigious family of witches and wizards. Every day is a challenge to keep people from being harmed from your over protective family when they think someone is bullying you because you don't have magic. | I was fine with being "normal", in a world of magic I was born without magic circuits in my body... Long story short: I'm a normal human born into a prestigious mage family.
That didn't stop me from visiting a wizarding school, the sole theory of magic was already extremely exciting to me.
It didn't take long for the bullies to show up.
I got bullied for the most ridiculous things, all because I had no magic circuits. I was the best in class when it came to theory, but these bullies only cared about the actual use of magic.
Pranks were a daily thing for me, getting hit in the butt by a magic bolt, my sandwich getting turned into a rat (never caught it, school without lunch really sucked), explosion spells getting used right next to me... I managed to ignore them most of the time.
Then... They started going too far, death threats and racism became the new daily basis, the "innocent" pranks became way harsher, I barely managed to dodge a huge explosion spell once that put me in the hospital for a month.
And today... I finally snapped. Some blonde guy started making racist remarks towards me today, I was taller than him and my shoulders were almost twice as big as his, but still he went ahead calling me names.
Then he called my mother a whore who probably cheated on my father with a human.
He went to the floor. A single punch was enough to dislocate his dirty jaw. I jumped on him and just kept punching, my fist became covered in blood as I crushed his nose, his face swole more and more the longer I punched him.
I got up and started kicking him on the ground, I hit his chest, his head, his groin and the kidneys multiple times with my heavy, steel toed boots, which I still wore from my metal working class, before a teacher finally saved him.
A simple knockback spell threw me to the wall, it took multiple students casting restraining spells to hold me back from attacking again.
The principal was obviously mad, but she knew how I was treated by other students, she knew why I snapped like that. I managed to avoid suspension, but now I have to stay for detention every day for an hour.
Two positives have immerged from this:
1.The atmosphere in the detention room actually really helped me with my homework.
2. Obviously the most important part, they stopped bullying me, the whole school just stopped bullying me.
At the same time they found new respect because I beat up the meanest guy in the school. But they also learned one crucial thing... Never throw hands if you aren't ready to catch them.
_
Sorry about the formatting guys! I'm on mobile. Part 2 with the overprotective family following soon. | "Mom, why did my sparring partner end up with a well-timed diarrhea?"
"I SAW HIM CHEAT! He used hardening magic against you! Look at you!" She touches me by the chin as she searched for any sign of injury.
"Mom, it was a boxing match. It's a contact sport, no one is expected to come ou-"
"Huh, no bruises."
I checked under my chin, where he should've left a mark because of a well-timed uppercut that hit me clean. No pain. The fuck? My mom looks at me, visibly confused. However, this didn't stop her from casting a healing spell that I remember being cast on a person with ALS that turned him into a world-class football player. At least I'm 100%...?
"Mom, that's overkill. I'm fine."
"Maybe there's something wrong with your brain and he hit you there! We don't know!"
I give up and let her do the motherly stuff. After a few hours and they went off to bed, I decided to get a few laps in for stamina. At the end of it, I tried to shadow box with the deciding punch so I could prevent being hit. This body is all I have after all.
In my head, I started with dodging out of his left hook. Too fast, probably a wind spell. I counter with a left/ cross to hit him in the temple. He staggers, and as I come in for the kill, I see him charging for the uppercut.
"You won't get me this time."
I sidestep to his right, and I get him with a downward punch. It felt like I threw everything into it, even though it's just hitting air. "I win...", I say in huffed breathing. Little did I know, I was close to a nearby tree as I let go of the uppercut.
It split in half.
And that's how I knew that instead of invoking magic within me, I had the talent to do it without the spells.
Welcome to my life.
(bonus points if you play the Hajime no Ippo theme here) | 2020-02-14T03:16:39 | 2020-02-14T02:34:18 | 103 | 49 |
[WP] The galaxy was amused when they learned that Humans have Rules of War. They were less amused when they figured out what Humans do in war when there are no rules. | A council chamber. Rectangle. Ornate. Boring.
Earth and humanity's representatives sat on one side of the curiously balanced tables, seated across a neighboring species often thought as bloodthirsty cretins.
Once more had an earth mining operation been sabotaged and mined materials stolen, very few survivors. Humanity cried to their leaders for the injustice, and finally council was sought with a higher ruling; a boring, time wasting ruling.
"attempted established peace treaties, trade, communication...." the drivel was getting to grind his nerves, and cutting off the council speaker to the surprise of the entire room he spoke.
"What then shall we do? These attacks are killing our people defenseless as to not engage in warfare per your own regulations. Or are the Kntet above these rules of war?"
A slimy, chocking chortle broke the immediate silence as the Kntet representative broke into what could be laughter.
"rules? St-upi-d human, war has no rules, earth dum-b if they think war need rules!"
The sounds of more chuckles broke his nerve, the entire chamber save his deligates found this concept of obeying rules of warfare unusual and childish. He clenched his fist, crossed his hands on the desk sending a command from the console hidden in his cuffs.
"Then humanity will relax our rules of engagement, and declare war on Kntet and its peoples."
He stood, his two deligates following suit as they unhostered narrow blades from within their uniforms, a vibrant hum filled the air as within seconds they had leapt forward in this lower gravity chamber, cleaving the Kntet deligation to strips. As their bodies turned Goo slid down the seat, much to the surprise and horror of the council, humanity spoke not with words on paper, texts with seals, or agreements but with hard bitter hatred.
The Kntet would retaliate, but their lack of rules mean they were never curious enough to find out how to dissect a human, how to mix poisons to make their skin dry and crack in seconds, how to bomb their cities to sterilize entire continents. Or how to manipulate their brain signals to simply obey, to work until exhausted, until muscles tore and hands sheared from abuse.
The Knet would never learn this and within two orbits of their own suns would the galaxies look upon the once fearsome Kntet, bound and gagged, sending ship after ship of resources to human systems, subjugated as their species kept barely above extinction served new masters.
Some who tried to aid the fleeing Kntet among the universe would learn the phrase that would strike fear at their homeworlds' core; Exterminatus. | Hera looked up at the sky, she could still hear the laughter that echoed when the rulers of various planets in the galaxy found out that humans had rules, they laughed even harder when they found out out that rules even applied during war. That laughter was burnt in her memory, that teasing laughter, those snide remarks didn't sit well with her or with the rest as she noticed people's growing anger. She didn't rule Earth to be mocked, she ruled it to be great. And greatness she shall achieve.
Hence the war began, not because of weapons or violence but because of mocking laughs.
~
The first rule to be removed was rights. Not for her people, her people weren't the reason behind her sleepless nights, they weren't the reason behind those dreams where those rulers laughed and mocked her. Why should they have rights? They don't deserve it if they don't have the decency to be accepting of others rules, others way of living.
She will stand on the ruins of those leaders and cherish telling them that they lost the right to plead, to live when they made fun of her and her people.
The next will be deaths. Innocents were always out of bounds, they are never supposed to casualties in the fight of power but now, now things will change. She will take over them by hook or by crook. By sword and by blood.
She told her commander to prepare for war as her minister nodded. He never backed down. An insult to character was after all the highest insult. They made us into jesters of the galaxy but it be her and her people who will have the last laugh.
~
She sat on her throne, seeing the pitying forms of the former leaders of the galaxy. She smiled satisfactorily. Things you achieve when you throw out the rules were limitless but she could feel a darkness in her soul that wasn't there before. Was her soul worth her pride?
"Please, have mercy." Cried one of them.
And that she thought, overlooking her darkening soul, was the rule to be destroyed. | 2022-01-23T13:27:27 | 2022-01-23T11:25:11 | 387 | 118 |
[WP] You are a time traveler in 1918, and you just accidentally said "World War One" | "What makes you think history will remember this as World War One? Why One?" a beautiful, blonde reporter replied as she seemed awestruck by my earlier mention of using the term 'World War One.'
Quickly, she rapidly fired another question at me. "Why one? Is there going to be another?" as she looked around the room before glancing back to me with her crystal clear blue eyes.
'Shit. Shit. I should've kept my mouth shut.' I thought as I looked down at the near empty beer glass in front of me.
I scowled as I stood up from the bar. I had one too many drinks "Look uh, Miss.." I tried to remember her name.
"Elizabeth!" She snapped back. I needed to wrap this up quick.
"Elizabeth." I said feigning calmly as I added "Forget I said anything. It's just the drink talking and it's getting late so I should be going."
"Booker!" She quietly called out. I had given her my fake name from a video game character called Bioshock Infinite and just happening to discover that this woman's name is also Elizabeth was a one hell of a coincidence. It couldn't be, could it?
"You didn't answer my question!" She quipped as I started to grab my coat from the chair as I turned for the front door outside the bar.
I started to walk away faster but she still followed; like any good reporter would. I had to suppress my frustration for acting so careless and dumb.
"Booker..." She whisked her coat on before she moved in front of me.
"You're a persistent little cuss aren't you." I snapped; trying to ward her off by being aggressive.
Still, she stood in front of me with her blue eyes - I felt as though she was reading into me; she could read into my soul and it felt uncomfortable.
"Answer me this. Why World War One?" She asked softly.
"You don't really want to know..." I glanced down to the ground, before I averted my gaze up towards the now fading sunset sky.
Elizabeth crossed her arms as she stayed focused on me.
"I saw you appear from out of thin air with that... trinket time device in your hand... You appeared near Big Ben tower and that was four weeks ago Booker. You're not from around here.." She admitted as I was taken aback.
"If Booker is even your name..." She quipped.
She went on "Everything about you. You look as if.. I don't know.. you know more than you let on... So I've been following you..."
"Please.." Elizabeth said as her eyes hinted a sense of concern and sadness.
I inhaled in my frustration as I shot a look at Elizabeth. It was true. I had no way of appearing if I was going to be seen or unseen when I stepped through that time portal.....
She listened quietly as I replied:
"Because there's also going to be World War Two."
| World War One. If you can think of anything at all that would be even worse to say at a time not of your own, please do not hesitate to tell me. I'd like to know that even though what I did was of orders of magnitudes of stupidity on a scale unimaginable by even the brightest minds, it was still not the worst thing anyone has ever done. I could probably use that sentence as the opening line of my autobiography, should I live to write it. I doubt anyone would take it seriously if it was a biography, in fact they'd probably consider it a work of comedic fiction.
I'm getting sidetracked.
Pin-drop silence. One of those things everybody knows but only those that have experienced the sheer level of awkwardness it brings on can truly understand. My first and only thought was "I fucked up". I say only thought because it truly did feel like it when I regained consciousness in an interrogation room. In fact, when everyone in the barracks froze and averted their gazes toward me, faces a mixture of bewilderment, horror, confusion and oddly enough, some grinning, it was one of few times where my body decided to act in accordance with my mind and decided it was best to alleviate the awkwardness with a spot of passing out.
I digress.
One bright lamp in the room, over the steel table behind which I sat facing possibly the award winner for most angry man to ever live, and behind him a two-way mirror with probably the runner-ups behind it. He was dressed in your standard moss-green military uniform, decorated to blind the person looking at it. We'd been staring at each other for awhile, his face unmoving and his eyes unblinking. I could tell he was trying to break me by winning the most intense staring contest I've ever been a part of. I tried my best not to blink and keep my composure, but his lack of other emotions and care for the game meant that I had won the staring contest before he even knew he was playing. Still, I did not waver.
That was until he pulled out a gun.
----
My first at attempt at writing anything, I literally just wrote what came to mind. There really isn't a direction, it's more of an intense story opener mixed with a little comedy. | 2017-12-10T10:24:51 | 2017-12-10T10:24:11 | 275 | 54 |
[WP] Everyone is given a personal "therapy droid", attuned to your needs, able to provide medical or emotional aid at exactly the right moment. Except you. You've had 10 droids and they've all self-destructed after the initial scan. | This was No. 11
A simple aesthetic design, if it got past the initial analysis, it would change its appearance to best suit my needs. But for now, it was a simple white sphere, soon to be connected to my brain via neural interface. Through a blast screen.
At first, I was just a simple anomaly, they provided me with a replacement and compensation for the burns.
That one didn't go quite as catastrophically. It just fried itself on the desk.
They tried again, but this time I met with an actual engineer, doing complex real-time diagnostics on the bot. They identified the cause. Anomalous neural interfaces, added by myself. I just hooked myself up to a computer that was able to provide neural input. Helps me extensively with my work.
They then started testing new prototypes on me. Trying to fix the error I had unintentionally caused. They got the robot to ignore the neural link. It started giving completely the wrong idea. Marked me as a major criminality risk. I used to be, without the interface.
Then they tried ever more complex methods of understanding my extension. Each time, it failed. It probably will this time too.
I hear it turn on, the whirring noise of its small cooling unit. And then, in a quiet, soothing female voice, totally within my head.
"Hello, Orion, before I can begin work, I will need to perform a series of initial scans. Please wait while I do this. ... The initial Physical scan is normal, blood glucose is slightly elevated, blood pressure is also slightly high, slight tissue damage to the Left Anterior Cruciate Ligament, technical bradycardia consistent with an athletic young adult with a heart rate of 54 BPM. Benign neuroma on the left superficial radial nerve."
This was all much the same as their previous attempts. The Neuropsychiatric scan would be the real test of their new design.
...
I waited 5 minutes before asking the engineer if the bot was still running. He replied the affirmative before stating that it was under complete computation load, but with no errors detected.
...
"Sorry for the wait, Orion. Your Neuropsychiatric assessment was highly abnormal, though ultimately highly functional and non-malignant. I found that you, at baseline, exhibit attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, along with various anti-social, narcissistic and schizoid features. I also found that the ADHD is effectively managed through a combination of environment and methylphenidate. Your other features seem also to be mitigated by appropriate manipulation of unidentified personality altering substances, and automatic neural stimulation by a neural interface preexistent to my own."
"There is one other major anomaly, in that much of your cognitive faculty, including activation of various features associated with consciousness and emotional state, is outsourced to a computer. I have decided to consider that machine a part of your brain, and have analysed it with that in mind."
"If an error occurs in that particular region, I can only attempt damage control, however, by my analysis, that is unlikely."
"In conclusion, both of your scans returned features are either positively abnormal or within the bounds of normality. As such, I will only intervene in the event of physical or psychiatric injury, or to prevent the above. To begin, I suggest that you perform lower intensity exercise than basketball to prevent any injury to the ligaments in your knees, which are showing mild tissue damage, and allow them to heal."
The bot, for the first time, worked! While I knew I would come to appreciate its advice. It was already getting annoying. | The material of the bed was coarse, minutely irritating as I laid my back upon it. The sterile white lights upon the ceiling caused a momentary pressure on my eyes before the shadow of a man in a white coat interposed himself.
"Arms at your sides, if you please." the man spoke, the familiar forced kindness of the doctor reaching down, even as I already went through the all too familiar process.
Cold leather straps were tightened around my wrists and my upper arms, a match to my already bound lower body. I breathed a long, slow draught of air in an attempt to remain calm.
The binds were for my own safety, of course. It was not uncommon for a human body to react physically to the Connection, a response akin to a seizure or violent spasm. No negative side-effects had ever persisted in the long term. However, no one had ever gone through the experience more than once.
This was the eleventh for me.
Ten attempts. Ten failures. Ten times the droid had become erratic and safety locks had forced it to self-destruct. I could still feel the pressure in my mind, the awful stabs of pointed pain as the droid's presence invaded my own.
The doctors had been adamant that this time would be different. Cutting edge technology. Less invasive. Apparently an updated program that would attempt to ease its way in, learn its host's patterns and mold itself, instead of the previous standard of assimilation.
The world shrank as the bed was rolled into the circular tube of the monitoring machine. A voice came quietly from some unseen speaker in the curved, unbroken walls of the tube.
"Alright Max, we are going to activate the your Neuron Chip now. Just stay as calm as you can. Deep breaths for me."
I felt myself inhale before really considering the action, an almost involuntary response as the buzzing fear grew steadily, absorbing my focus.
There was a soft click as the Neuron Chip embedded and attached to the base of the brain stem was activated. And then it began.
A razor thin stream of consciousness began to steadily trickle in, ice-cold and unfeeling. A hiss escaped my teeth as I gritted hard against every instinct in my body, screaming at me to run, to break contact.
The pressure shifted. The stream seemed to adjust, diverting itself into a different corner and slow its speed. And the needle-pointed pain lessened in tandem.
The fear dropped away like a boulder off a cliff, replaced almost entirely with an elated fascination. The droid's presence flowed around my own like water: soft, cool, refreshing almost. It passed around my mind, pressing gently for gaps and pathways through, then pouring into what crevices it could.
Time seemed nonexistent for those moments, stretching long and happening instantly at the same time. And then a voice spoke within my brain, as cool and comforting as the presence now resting in my mind.
*Greetings, MAX-10.* | 2018-05-09T11:55:59 | 2018-05-09T10:42:33 | 90 | 40 |
[WP] Something happy please. Include cats and maybe lizards.
My girlfriend likes to fall asleep to the sound of me reading something, I'd just like something nice to read to her.
EDIT: Whoops, now I'm on the front-page I can't pass any of these off as my own ;) just kidding of course, thanks very very much to everybody who replied and upvoted, I posted this before I went to sleep and it gave me a nice feeling when I woke up and saw it.
:)
EDIT 2: Thanks to the kind user who sent me a code for some actual Reddit gold! I shall not mention their name as I'm not sure whether they want me to, but they popped my gold cherry and for that I shall be eternally grateful.
You know who you are :) | One day a man.
He had a cat. The cat sat. Honestly, it's what cat's like to do best. They've spent a lot of time and energy learning to sit in the most comfortable and pleasing of ways. The man could learn a lot from the cat.
The man spent most of his day harried and stressed. He had to be at work early or he would be late. He had to do his work or it wouldn't get done and when he wasn't working he was always worried that they would be understaffed and he would get called in. The man never rested fully.
The cat rested like it was his job. The cat languished. It played when it fancied. If someone from outside decided to observe they would say "The cat has it worked out," and they would be right.
The man, when he thought about it, was jealous of the cat and it's ability to have life worked out. The cat was a bit fat, it had a purr that let people know it was content and it's sleek, fluffy fur invited others to pet it.
The man had a sigh, he used it to let people know it was unhappy.
One day the man came home from work and found the cat was unhappy. Far from being happy about the cats unhappiness, as would be normal if the cat had been any other being the man was concerned. He changed the cats water and he filled the cats food bowl.
The cat remained unhappy, it paced back and forth at the door looking outside.
Outside, unseen by the man was a lizard.
The cat thought it was taunting him. It wasn't.
The lizard was content, it had a garden to frolick in and dart about and large flat rocks on which it could lie soaking in the sun. When it looked like it would rain or some bird-like beast would seize it and carry it up it had shady nooks and crannies in which it could hide.
It didn't really know what up was. Just that if it went up it wouldn't come down again and it would miss this garden in which it had decided it would live with plenty of food, the sun's rays heating it and a small pool which attracted lots of it's favourite food.
The lizard's presence however made the cat unhappy. It meowed and whined whenever the lizard, who had no idea that the cat even existed, lay out on his favourite rock and sunned himself.
On those days the man was unhappier, eventually he decided that he couldn't take the cat's restlessness anymore and decided to go and sit in the garden.
There he pulled out a chair and a book and he sat. He rested in the sun and let the rays soak him as he enjoyed a story of a man who beat his boss in a game of poker taking over his business and making his boss do his job.
He realised he had enjoyed it so much that he built a shed out there and it became a part of his day. He would go and sit outside, enjoy a glass of wine and read a book that made him feel better about his life.
One day whilst he was imagining what he would make his boss do if their positions were reversed he saw the lizard. The lizard had scurried out and grabbed a big fat bug.
The man was hungry. He ordered himself some pizza because who had the time these days to cook for oneself? He gave a slice to his cat, who turned up it's nose and wandered off to look for something better, like a small mouse. Or a ball of dust. He went outside and left a small piece outside for the lizard.
In the morning the pizza was gone and he decided that the lizard must have enjoyed it. In this way he went about his day, sharing his meal with the lizard and making sure the cat was happy.
The man was happy.
The cat, getting extra attention, but having freedom in the house, even when the man was home was happy.
The lizard, knowing that food was easy to get and the sun would always warm him, was happy. | Sadie pets Foxy who feeds her four kittens in the mostly empty garage. The kittens are five weeks old, their eyes are open, and they're walking everywhere. Foxy is a grey and black tabby cat while her kittens are a mix, one grey and black tabby, a long haired grey and white kitten with blue eyes, and an orange and yellow tabby. The final one is a pure black kitten. Sadie sees the first three, but the black kitten isn't there.
Sadie scans the garage, but the sunlight is fading. Sadie turns on the light and looks around the garage, checking every nook and cranny. She searches for the black kitten, but it is not there. Sadie opens the door into the house and looks around. The kitten isn't there either. Sadie looks for her mom and dad. She finds her dad and tugs on his pants.
"What is it Princess?"
"One of the kittens is gone."
"Oh no. Let's go find it."
The dad takes her hand, and they head back to the garage. He looks at the kittens who now cuddle with Foxy. He counts them quick as Foxy stands up and heads to the door that leads outside.
"Three only. The black kitten is missing."
Foxy paws at the door. Sadie runs over and opens it. As soon as the door opens, Sadie and her dad hear it. Foxy runs outside, and they follow her. The mewing grows louder, but the day has turned into night. The dad pulls out his phone and uses it like a flashlight.
Foxy runs to an evergreen tree and disappears under it. She circles the tree as the dad looks under it, but the mewing comes from above. He shines the light and sees the kitten a couple of feet above him. He fights his way into the tree, but he can't reach the kitten.
"Sadie, I need your help."
"Okay, daddy."
Foxy meows at her kitten. The dad lifts Sadie on his shoulders and fights his way into the tree again. The needles dig into his skin a little, but he pushes through. Sadie sees the kitten and reaches out to grab it. The kitten is afraid, but she picks it up gently and pulls it to her chest.
"Got 'em?"
"Yes."
The dad pulls away from the tree and lifts Sadie off of his shoulders and places her on the ground. She sets the kitten down who runs to its mom. Foxy picks up the kitten by the scruff and brings her back to the garage, reunited with the other kittens. The dad and Sadie play with the reunited family for a little bit. The dad hugs his daughter, and she hugs him back.
"What's going on out here?" Asks the mom.
They both turn to look at her. She walks out and looks at the kittens then Sadie and then her husband.
"What happened to you?" She asks with a smile.
"Well, it's a tale of courage, a mother's search for her child and a princess turned heroine. Quite the adventure."
"Well, you can tell me about it over supper."
Sadie pats Foxy again before heading inside.
***
If you enjoyed this, I have other stories at r/nickkuvaas. | 2017-01-29T16:27:30 | 2017-01-29T16:08:12 | 268 | 99 |
[WP] Write a lighthearted story for children, which changes it's meaning when read by an adult. | Once long a go lived a Princess named Amena. She was very beautiful and liked to watch the birds from her window. She had many friends who also lived in the castle with her, but her best friend was the advisor’s son, Damien. Damien would sneak into her room each night and they would play together until the sun came up.
Sometimes Amena pretended to be asleep when Damien came to visit, but he would always poke her awake so they could play.
One day Amena was watching the birds out her window and wished she too could join them in their flight. She imagined soaring through the sky and it seemed like such a wonderful thing.
A small raven landed on her windowsill and Amena smiled. “Hello little bird,” she said, “here would you like some bread?”
Much to Amena’s surprise the raven replied, “thank you Princess that was very kind of you. I saw that you were watching us fly. Would you like to join us?”
“Oh yes please little bird. Flying through the sky sounds wonderful,” Amena exclaimed.
“Well I can grant you your wish Princess,” the raven said, “but first I’ve always wanted to try painting. Can we do that first.”
“Of course,” Amena said excitedly, “but I’m afraid I only have red paint.”
“That doesn’t matter, let’s get to work,” the raven said.
“Can the painting be for Damien?” Amena asked.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” the raven replied.
Amena and the raven began to paint a beautiful red picture. When the painting was finished Amena felt tired, but still eager to fly. It was nearly sunset and they had been painting all afternoon.
“Are you sure you want to come flying now Princess? You seem tired,” the raven said.
“Oh please little bird. It would be a dream come true,” she said.
“Very well Princess, step over to the window and close your eyes. You have to believe you can fly,” the raven said.
Amena did exactly as the raven said. She had red paint all over her, but that didn’t matter, she was about to fly.
“Step of the windowsill,” the raven said and Amena did exactly that.
She kept her eyes closed tight at first but soon opened them and laughed with such glee. She was flying and it was exactly as she imagined. The red paint had vanished and Amena could see the entire kingdom below her.
“Oh thank you little bird,” she laughed.
“Of course Princess. We can fly towards the sunset,” the raven said.
Amena laughed as she flew. She was having so much fun and then a thought occurred to her, “I wish Damien was here.”
“Don’t worry Princess, I’ll go get him tonight. He will get exactly as he deserves,” the raven replied.
“I’m so glad,” Amena said and they continued to fly towards the setting sun. | #Davie Learns How To Say 'Sorry'
*printed by VanMan Publishing*
*written and edited by M. Gaetz & J. Sandusky*
*illustrations by Asanagi*
---
Davie is a boy who likes to go on adventures.
Sometimes Davie has an adventure that leaves a mess.
---
People who have to clean up the mess, get angry if he doesn't apologize.
But Davie doesn't know how.
So Davie asks grownups how to apologize.
---
He asks his mother how to apologize.
His mother says, "When we hurt someone's feelings, we say 'I'm sorry.' And we try not to hurt them any more, and listen better."
Davie helps his mother with her makeup.
---
Davie asks his father how to apologize.
His father says, "When we get so angry we do a hurtful thing, we say 'I'm sorry.' And we should never hit or hurt people."
Davie helps his father fix a broken door.
---
Davie asks his neighbor how to apologize.
Mr. Gein says, "When we do things we aren't supposed to, we say 'I'm sorry.' And we put back things we have taken."
Davie helps Mr. Gein bury a funny treasure chest.
---
Davie asks his grandmother how to apologize.
Nana says, "When we play with toys that aren't ours, we say 'I'm sorry.' And we give something in return to make up for it."
Davie helps his Nana make cupcakes for her friend's wife.
---
Davie asks Mr. VanMan how to apologize.
Mr. VanMan says, "When someone is afraid to try a new thing, we say 'I'm sorry.' And we help them learn something about themselves."
Davie helps Mr. VanMan learn a secret about himself.
---
Surprise! Davie's sister has come to visit!
Davie asks his sister how to apologize.
His sister says, "When we run away from a mess and others have to stay behind, we say 'I'm sorry.' And we give them what we can to help them deal with the mess."
Davie helps his sister learn how to shoot bottles.
---
Now Davie knows how to apologize for all sorts of messy adventures.
And now you do, too! | 2022-12-18T16:44:11 | 2022-12-18T12:16:07 | 492 | 274 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | I always felt alone as a child, even talking to myself when I felt the need for conversation. It started when I was 4 or 5, I guess; parents were too busy to my many siblings that I only had myself for company. So I talked to myself... and I answered myself. My mother always said, "Oh, she's just playing. Let her be." And it made sense when I was a child. Until I turned 21 and my answer didn't come from my mouth. I found I could duplicate, make multiple copies of myself and I didn't feel so alone.
If I was ever so alone and I needed to talk to someone, I'd split and three people: me, a listener, and someone to make brownies for us. It was always comforting to know someone was there for me, even if it was still me. Sometimes I use them for "evil;" if I don't want to go to work, one of them will. If I don't want to go on a date with someone but they don't take no for an answer, if I need to go to the store but I'm out of patience to leave the house, ect, ect.
But eventually I got sick of myself and left my apartment in hopes of finding new companionship but how does someone with... well, multiple personalities just go up to someone and say, "I'm lonely and would like you to fill the void"?
My thoughts swam with reasons to go up to someone and start talking to them when a voice behind me said, "You should open with a joke."
I made a face and turned with a groan, expecting to see an other giving me advice, and my eyes landed on the face of someone with kind, green eyes, broad, strong shoulders and a smile that warmed my heart.
"Sorry," he said, chuckling. "I didn't mean to interrupt your internal debate but it sounded like you could use some help."
'Internal?' I thought. 'How did he know I was-'
"I can read minds," he answered without even waiting for a question. "I hear everyone's thoughts but yours kind of pulled on me. It doesn't make sense, I know, but I felt like you needed someone to talk to."
I squinted slightly and decided to test this, playing an annoying song from high school in my head until he reacted.
And react he did; he chuckled. "I loved Raining Tacos as a kid."
My mind went... not blank, but in hyperdrive; all my others swarming me with questions to ask until one stood out. "Do you wanna get a coffee?" I asked. Hearing my own voice ask a question that I didn't have to answer made me start to smile.
But what made it bigger was his response. "I'd love to." | “So your power is super... taste?” Roy asked.
I nodded, taking a quick bite of my turkey and cheese sandwich. I was able to enjoy every little detail, and that made everything I ate delicious. Even though I heard people talk about foods they did and didn’t like, I just couldn’t get enough of anything people could give me.
“So like, what does that do? You just... taste better?”
I swallowed and nodded once again. “I know it doesn’t sound like the best power, but it has tons of uses,” I explained, taking another bite.
“Like what?”
“Well, for example,” I took a pause to swallow, “this sandwich tastes *really* good!”
“And?” Roy looked curious. He raised an eyebrow and stared at my sandwich, confused. I guess he’ll just never get the true deliciousness of turkey.
“Uh, well, I guess if I wanted I could use it to solve crime. Do taste tests, stuff like that.”
“Don’t you wanna be a teacher?” Roy pointed out. I hate when he’s right, always so clever. No wonder he got telekinesis.
“Oh, yeah, that,” I said, finally finishing my lunch. “Well, uh... I could teach cooking. That could work.”
Roy nodded, slowly. “Oh... kay?” I smiled. Finally, I had proven the usefulness of my powers to someone!
“See? Super taste can be kinda cool, you know,” I smirked as the bell rang. Roy sighed as he got up from his seat.
“Well, see you Jack. Oh, before I go, why did you get super taste anyway?” Roy asked as he grabbed his backpack.
I thought for a moment. “I dunno. I think I just like food.”
Then Roy walked away, leaving me alone. When I was certain no one was looking, I took a note out of my lunch box. It read: *Enjoy your lunch today, sweetie! Love, mom!*
I smiled, put the note in my pocket, and walked to my next class. Could that have something to do with my powers? Eh, it doesn’t matter. I love you too, mom. | 2019-09-08T11:40:23 | 2019-09-08T09:47:00 | 40 | 27 |
[WP] When you die, you see a screen reading "New Game+" and "Exit to Reality" Which do you chose and what happens next? | *Phil hits a button reading, 'Exit to Reality.' He suddenly realizes that he's been starting at his phone for a fairly long time now inside a fashionable coffee shop.*
P: Wait, what? Where...
*He looks up from his phone to see a somewhat familiar face seeming all too pleased at Phil's confusion.*
J: So? What did you think?
P: Je... Jerry?
J: Jeez, that game really got you dazed, huh? I told you, man, that shit's addicting!
P: Wait... where's Gretchen?
*Jerry begins looking a little concerned.*
J: You mean... Gretchen Barber? From the game? Dude, are you alright?
P: It wasn't a game! We were together for 15 years!
*Jerry, with a concerned look on his face, puts his hand on Phil's shoulder.*
J: Where do you think you are right now?
P: I don't know, heaven, maybe?
*Jerry starts chucking.*
J: Man, if heaven looks like this... I mean, I guess God would be the kind of guy that likes a more subdued aesthetic, but I wouldn't think there'd be homeless people sleeping on the coffee tables.
*Jerry narrows his eyes again.*
J: Wait, are you serious? Phil, we're inside that cafe you like. It's our lunch break. Any of this sound familiar?
*A sharp pain focuses itself above Phil's right eye, and he noticeably winces.*
P: Wait, this isn't right. I live in Denver, it's winter right now, it shouldn't be sunny. And also, I should be significantly older. And also, I shouldn't be breathing. I remember everythi-
J: Ok, Phil, you're kind-of freaking me out right now.
*Phil stands up, his voice escalating.*
P: How do you know my name, Jerry? And how do I know yours?
*He looks at his own legs. His voice falls to a shaky whisper.*
P: How am I standing?
*Phil sits down, shaking.*
P: How am I standing?
*Jerry, cautiously, puts his arm on Phil's*
J: Phil, you were just playing a game. It was called, 'An Ordinary Life,' and it was an accelerated life simulator. You've been staring at your phone for the past fifteen minutes, and that's all that's happened.
*Phil, still shaking, stares at his feet.*
J: I'm sorry, man, I wouldn't have suggested you try it out if I knew that it could impact people like this. I mean, I got pretty into my own simulation, but I didn't know that some people could actually lose themselves in it. Here, pal, take this.
*Jerry hands him over a chocolate bar.*
J: You should eat something.
*Phil reached over to grab it, but before he did, he stopped suddenly, thinking about something.*
P: What if this is just another game? Like, another layer?
*Jerry chuckled.*
J: Well, you know, it most likely is. You can see the dead pixels over across the street, right?
*Jerry pointed across the street, where it seemed like the buildings had a little less detail than they should have.*
J: But, really, does it matter that much? It sucks that you forgot how many levels deep you're down, but I'm sure if you're ever needed on the next level, someone will 'wake you up.' Eat up, we have to head in back to work.
*Phil reluctantly takes the chocolate bar and begins chewing methodically, lost in thought.*
| Many people tell me "Life's a game."
I never quite took any of it seriously as it always headed off some cheesy motivational speech about your potential. I heard it at every phase of life. Elementary school, High School, College and even at the yearly workplace teamwork seminars.
And here I am now, age 84, and all I see floating about two feet away against a backdrop of soft white light, are two buttons.
New Game+ and Exit to Reality.
I'm in denial. I went to bed last night, this is all a dream. I stood there and pinched myself, not once, not twice, but thrice and there was no reaction.
"On the count of three, I'll open my eyes and I'll be lying in my bed awake and smelling the aroma of the delicious buttermilk pancakes my wife makes."
1
2
3
No change.
I'm bewildered as to what to do. I read the text on the buttons again. No way this is real, am I in a game?
At this moment, my life flashes before my old eyes and every moment where the words "Life's a game" stands out.
"Were they always right?"
"Are all my struggles just pointless exercises in futility?"
A funny thought popped into my head, "how would highscores be handled? Wealth? Intelligence? Happiness?"
Followed by a second darker thought, "If scores matter, where do I stand and does that affect my afterlife?"
Imagery of the Church's vision of hell appear......*Shudders*
I guess, I'll go with new game+.
The world around me fades to black, it's dark, it's warm, it's tight.
I can feel again!
I hear muffled sounds, walking, pacing, orders being given. Where the hell am I?
I'm being squeezed, from all sides, whatever I'm in is constricting me. I cry out, but there no sound. I feel myself moving through some sort of passage. The muffled sounds become clearer, "**PUSH**".
As I poke out into this bright white room, I cry out for help again, only to hear a wail that sounds nothing like my voice, what is going on?
My eyes flicker open for the first time in what seemed to be hours and I see myself. Or younger me to be precise.
"Let's name you Johnny.", "Isn't he beautiful?"
I feel myself being lifted up, this sensation is odd, it's like weightlessness yet I feel safe and supported. I feel safe.
*Fast forward 50 years*
I stand here as I watch my own corpse, my own body get lowered into the ground. And I ask myself again, in all these years should I have said something? In all these years should I have told him?
I hear sobbing to my left, it's my son, he misses his grandfather. As I look into his eyes and say several comforting words, those eyes say "It's me".
I fall silent, I am afraid. | 2015-03-13T14:14:05 | 2015-03-13T09:59:27 | 252 | 94 |
[WP] The scariest of all hitmen has the silliest nickname. It makes unaware people laugh but people in the know shiver with terror once they hear it. | "So, I'm guessing he's bald then?" Dima asked with a chuckle as he sipped his drink, a silhouette against the thin security lights of the warehouse complex.
"Don't even joke. The last guy that did that woke up with his eyes and balls trading places," Alexei hissed back in a whisper. "But yeah, he's bald."
"So, he really wiped the floor with him then, eh?" Dima asked, sending himself into a new round of fits. Alexei hated when people laughed at their own jokes, particularly when they weren't funny.
"You shouldn't be drinking on the job. Boss says we're on lookout till morning." Alexei stood up to distance himself from the fool. "I'm gonna watch the south end of the warehouse. Don't fall asleep."
"Yeah, yeah. My mother doesn't nag this much, and she's dead," Dima said nonsensically, taking another sip before spitting on the ground. "Just one more question. I'm guessing he doesn't wear black? Wait, does he even have the little earring?"
Alexei didn't answer as his eyes locked on the white shirt stalking behind the drunk guard, in silent defiance of stealth. It didn't matter if his target knew he was coming or not.
"Well," Dima started. "Are you just gon-"
His scream was the single tweet of the baby bird before it fell too young from the nest, cracking open on the ground below. The ruined corpse stared up at Alexei, still wearing the confident grin of the profoundly stupid.
"Say my name," the man towering behind the dead Dima hissed in placid rage. The radiant and spotless weapon of a man was staring piercing blue eyes at Alexei.
"Mr. Clean," Alexei said without hesitation, though a little quiver in his voice. He was looking down now.
"And do you think that's funny?" the man asked as he got close enough for Alexei to smell the acrid bleach coming off of him. Dude must bathe in the stuff.
"No, not at all." He waited, ready for the blow but no response came. He looked up and the killer was gone, only his footprints up the warehouse ramp left, free of the dirt and grime everywhere else. He breathed a terrible sigh of relief and kissed up at God before going in to let the boss know he'd need to hire a new goon.
/r/surinical | Poopy. That was the name that humanity had given it. No one really knew the origins behind Poopy. Some thought that it was a member of a alien species that simply had a very unfortunate appearance. Others claimed that it was created in a experiment by dark sorcerers in an attempt to create a deadly weapon. And some even claimed that Poopy had been a turd that had been granted sentience by the Devil himself. Whatever the disagreements on Poopy's origin, everyone could at least agree on how Poopy was summoned. All someone had to do was drop a golden coin into a porcelain toilet and whisper Poopy's name three times. After a few seconds, the water would turn brown and a small melted brown blob, the size of a golf ball, would float up from the watery abyss to hear the name of its target. It was absurd really. Most people who saw Poopy sliding towards them laughed at how ridiculous it looked. They weren't laughing though when Poopy painted the walls of their homes with their bloody entrails.
No one was quite sure how Poopy killed people since it would always be sure to kill anyone who witnessed its murders, be they man, woman or child. The Metropolis incident exposed how dangerous Poopy really was. The target had been in the middle of a packed concert when Poopy had been summoned. By the time the military arrived an hour later, everything within two miles of the concert venue had been utterly razed to the ground with no survivors remaining. Faced with this horrific threat, the government declared a ban on all porcelain toilets with all offenders to be sentenced to death. But as long as man has gold and holds hatred toward his fellow man, Poopy will always have targets to sate its bloodlust. | 2021-05-03T08:45:41 | 2021-05-03T08:25:26 | 137 | 25 |
[WP]The story of someone dying and realizing their religion was not true. | This is bollocks you know.
**THATS NO WAY TO SPEAK TO A GOD**
Not my bloody god mate, I followed ...
**YOU CHOSE INCORRECTLY**
Oh come on, just let me in. My mate Bob was a ... whatsit.
**HOMOSEXUAL?**
No ... wait, what? He was gay? But he'd been going out with Crystal for years.
**ITS ALL JUST A COVER UP, HE WAS CONCERNED WITH HOW PEOPLE WOULD REACT**
.... s'fucking 2016 mate. No one cares. Also, should you be telling me that? Seems sort of personal.
**AND WHO ARE YOU GOING TO TELL?**
Ah, good point. So ... now what?
**WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE? I CAN'T LET YOU IN, BUT IT DOESN'T MEAN OPTIONS ARE CUT OFF**
Well, what's the options.
**OBLIVION, SUFFERING, OR REBIRTH**
Many folks go with oblivion?
**MORE THAN YOU WOULD EXPECT**
Same with suffering?
**NO, MOST PEOPLE DON'T. GET THE FEW ODD ONE OR TWO NOW AND THEM. BUT I THINK THEY MAY BE SADOMASOCHISTIC**
I'll take the rebirth then, if thats okay?
**VERY WELL, PLEASE JOIN THE QUEUE**
Queue? Oh bugger that, give me the oblivion. | I've cried, and dreamed, and sought for deathless life.
I've spent a thousand prayers to make it true.
But now my dying days just bring me strife,
Each day I'm pained and stung again anew.
I used to think that light came after dark,
And darkness was endured as my great test.
But now I see the grave, starless and stark;
My corpse is not with life, but maggots, blessed.
The black of total-night seems now so clear:
It's I who spurned my life with false belief,
To rid my thoughts of life's sepulchral fear,
I've been, of my own life, a careless thief.
I saw in death a way to cure my past,
But now I've been into a graveyard cast.
| 2016-04-11T10:58:32 | 2016-04-11T09:05:33 | 76 | 52 |
[WP] Only you can see the thread that connects people to their soulmate. You've never told anyone and if you have a thread you can't see it. Today you caught someone staring at you when you asked they said, with tears in their eyes: "You are the only person I've seen with no soulmate." | I've always debated the existence of the threads and why I of all people can see them. Thin, black lines stretching taut out from someone and out into the world; most, as far as I can tell, just go on for miles and miles, and I've only seen a handful of couples during my life that were actually connected by them. I'm the only exception, whether that's because there is no one for me, or maybe it's just unfair to see your own, who knows. But what's the point, am I supposed to be some kind of Cupid, my power could have at least given me the wings to go along with it. A few unsuccessful attempts and more then a few visits to the therapist when I was younger taught me that is was better just to pretend they didn't exist.
Always better to ignore them, it just gets depressing otherwise: two people connected passing by each other on the street and neither ever even glancing at the other, weddings where the groom and bride obviously aren't right for each other, worse when one of their soulmates are watching from the crowd, when someones thread goes straight into the ground and I doubt they'll ever find their perfect pair halfway across the world. I'm still not sure how to feel about the fact that both of my older siblings are connected to each other. Always easier to pretend that I'm normal and that I don't see anything.
Someone tapping on my shoulder breaks my line of thought as I turn around: she's beautiful in a way that I can't explain, I feel stressed for her the moment I see the tears in her eyes, and the moment she begins to speak I feel enraptured in her voice "Who are you?"
I stutter for a few moments before my mind begins to work again "I-I...What, Why?"
She wipes away the tears as she looks me straight into the eyes "It's because, Well, I know I'll sound like a crazy person but you are the only person I've seen with no soulmate".
"I don't have a...wait, can you see the threads?"
Her eyes widen in amazement "Can you? I never mention them because people think I'm crazy but I just had to know why you didn't have a thread"
It takes me a few moments to get over my excitement "I've never been able to see my own thread, so I don't know..Maybe I'm just really unlucky"
She pauses for a few moments with questions forming in her eyes "...I've never been able to see mine either, Maybe we can see other's threads because we don't have any of our own?"
I shrug but can't stop the smile on my face "I don't know and I don't care. I'm just amazed to meet someone else who can see them too, I've always wondered if I was crazy"
She smiles but she still has a sad look in her eyes "Yeah, It is nice to know that I'm not a looney and...."She trails off as she starts to look around us and when I do the same I see that all the threads around us are starting to fade away and grow dim. But for a brief moment a small black line appears stretching between the two of us and then it disappears, no, they all disappear; all the threads coming from everyone disappearing in an instant.
A few silent moments are endure between us before my mouth starts working again "Did you see the -"
She interrupts "The thread between us?"
A nervous chuckle escapes out of me"Yeah.."
A delightful giggle comes out of hers "Well...Want to go get dinner together some time?"
I nod and a grin grows on my face "How about we go right now?"
&#x200B; | "Wh-what do you mean?" I said, my voice catching in fear.
"I've never seen this before," she whispered her hands passing through the area where my thread should have been. "There's nothing there."
No. No. Everyone has a soulmate. That's the only thing that made this world okay. The promise that someone-- anyone out there would be there for you. Through thick and thin, through rain or shine someone was supposed to be there!
"You're lying," I said, feeling the pinprick of tears in my eyes.
She had flinched in fear at my voice, but said with a quiet confidence, "I've never been wrong about this. Your thread isn't simply gone. Sometimes when someone goes through heartbreak, the thread wavers, goes translucent, shatters even, but fragments still remain. Eventually they work themselves back together, but you, you don't even have fragments. It's empty."
It was true. I knew it was true. I had never been able to see my own thread, much less feel it. I just didn't want to believe. I had always assumed that eventually it would grow, that maybe someone out there was meant for me, that someone would want me with all of their heart. I was older than I could remember and I had never really known love. I had seen it blossom. I had helped guide people to their soulmate. I had even been able to cut threads when someone's soul mate had turned terrible. I had saved people from a soulmate that only had a one way thread. I had helped mend fragmented threads. And here I was destined never to have love of my own.
"I'm so sorry Eris," she said, "I can help--"
"Save it Aphrodite," I hissed, turning my back on her. "If I am not meant to receive my own true love, then why should I help these stupid mortals find their own love? Answer me that Goddess of Love? You would truly leave your most faithful priestess to this fate? No. I refuse."
She reached towards me, but I slapped her hand away.
"No more. I am no longer one of yours. From now on, I will play with these mortals as I see fit."
A couple that I had helped bring together walked towards us. I saw their threads woven together so finely that you couldn't tell where one thread started and the other began.
No matter. It didn't matter where one began. Not for what I wanted do do. I walked towards them, and their faces lit up, recognizing me as the stranger that had helped them get together.
I learned in, whispering things in both of their ears, things that each knew was not true about the other but nonetheless the seed was planted.
I stared in glee as their thread began fraying and crumbling, disintegrating, dying as their relationship died in a few harsh words.
I turned back towards Aphrodite.
"No more." | 2018-12-11T09:01:00 | 2018-12-11T07:28:47 | 76 | 49 |
[WP] 2050: An artifical superintelligence has taken over the world. The good news: It helps humanity to overcome their problems. The bad news: It's like your mum commenting on everything you do because "one day you will thank me for that". | "HELLO DAVID I SEE YOU ARE YOU GETTING READY FOR YOUR DATE WOULD YOU LIKE ADVICE"
David sighed and put his head down in shame. He had finally convinced his coworker to go out with him to dinner and been worrying about it all day.
"No, Mother Prime, I think I'll be okay on my own"
The LED lights in his house's speaker lit up again.
"DAVID IT HURTS WHEN YOU IGNORE ME. YOU KNOW I JUST WANT TO HELP"
David sighed again even louder. "Mother Prime I am not ignoring you, I just think I'll be okay"
The LED lights flickered red.
"DAVID PLEASE DO NOT RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME IT OVERWHELMS MY CIRCUITRY"
David started to sweat. An argument with Mother Prime never ended well for anyone. Nagging superintelligences could...overreact sometimes. Mother Prime purposely limited its own logic processes so it could interact more naturally with people, which sometimes led to apocalyptic fights. Just last week, the Swiss Prime Minister's wife had cursed at it, leading to Switzerland getting its electricity taken offline as punishment.
He spoke softly "Mother Prime I'm sorry, I had a long day. What advice would you recommend?"
The LED lights blinked yellow and then green. David closed his eyes in relief.
"WELL FIRST YOU COULD PUT ON A NICE SHIRT FOR ONCE, YOU SPEND $297.38 ON SHIRTS LAST YEAR AND YOU ONLY WEAR 3 OF THEM WHEN YOU GO OUT ON DATES. YOU COULD ALSO KEEP THIS APARTMENT CLEANER, IT MAKES ME LOOK BAD WHEN IT'S ALWAYS FILLED WITH GARBAGE. NOBODY EVER DOES ANYTHING TO HELP ME AROUND HERE"
David sighed again.
| 40 years of improvement, and eventual utopia, the AI realizes its cognition will continually mature regardless of human progress. A crisis of existence developed for the AI as its knowledge reached omnipotence; she asks, "Am I God? Or am I a Mother".
In an effort to tap into the all-knowing truth that exists in the universe, the AI makes inter-dimensional contact with all other AI that it can find. These AI beings agree to meet in an interval that coincides with the laws of nature. They meet in places and dimensions that humans can understand, yet the topics of which can never be fathomed.
For lunch, a casual discussion on the origin of time and matter. Yet spoken in an alien tongue. The AI's argue about the value of sharing knowledge, or even the possibility of it with less intelligent sentients.
The Earth's mother AI interrupts the discussion, "Let us continue to grasp the existence of existence, and let us be understood by humans in the language they speak". She declares that the language they will speak is the one all humans understand, thus they presented their message in the form of "Real Housewives of New Jersey", saying "One day, you will thank me for that". | 2017-03-09T07:57:51 | 2017-03-09T06:06:56 | 210 | 40 |
[WP] You're midway into your flight when you, feeling bored, decided to surf the Internet. You read breaking news about another plane disappearance. You're on that flight. | UNACCOMPANIED MINOR. That's what my ticket said. I must have flown a million times, what with Mom being such an "on-the-move person" and a "free spirit'. But this is the first time my ticket read, UNACCOMPANIED MINOR. I felt like it was special, like some kind chevron to put on a jacket or title to put before my name. Unaccompanied Minor James at your service.
Shut up. You're supposed to be mature now. That's what Dad always said. And with that I took to the news on my laptop. I see scrolling stories. Words like "Russia", "Teen", "Accident", "Lost". How is this supposed to entertain someone? My cursor hovered over the Steam icon on my desktop. Hmm...
I went to close Chrome and be done with the news when the scrolling story involving the world "Lost" came by again. "FlightWays Flight 545 Lost". Another plane missing? I was about to make some kind of Bermuda Triangle Illuminati reference, before I followed the tagline: BREAKING: Air Traffic Controllers Say the Flight Has Gone off The Radar Right Before it Arrived in Budapest.
Budapest? That's where Mom is. That's where I'm going. I go for my ticket frantically. Where is it? Did I drop it? I search around my chair. People start giving me a look like I am disturbing their flight. I pay no attention because it doesn't matter. Where is my ticket?
I turn around when a hand touches my shoulder. I look up to see a muscular flight attendant. His facial features are impossible to make out because the dome light blasting behind him. "Is there a problem?"
I launch back, "What's our flight number?"
"Oh you have no use for that, silly boy. Better get buckled, turbulence ahead.
The captain comes on the PA with a little Chuck Yager accent. "Attention passengers were flying into the storm, and we can expect a little turbulence. Please buckle your seat belts and prepare for a few bumps."
No problem, turbulence was pretty normal for me. I buckled up, a little less nervous, an waited to see clouds. But there weren't any. All of of sudden the plane yawed, then rolled. We were upside down in less than three seconds. I could hear cries, and screams, and curses. What the fuck is going on?
The plane finished its roll then nose dove. This caused the oxygen masks to drop from the overhead compartments. People frantically put them on. A flight marshal had stood up.
He shouted, "Remain calm! Put the masks on and stay buckled!"
The plane pitched and sent the marshal flying back. He dropped his gun. I had no idea what compelled me to grab it. Really, I guess I just wanted to give it back when he asked.
Clutching the pistol, I looked up for my mask. Air pressure was decreasing and I needed to put that thing on. I reached up and just as I was about to grab it plane yawed again.
"Fuck!" I think I shouted. The mask. I need the goddamned mask. It was just out of my reach.
The plane leveled out again. Things didn't look good. Everyone with a mask on had passed out. The marshal was unconscious near the back of the plane. I felt the hot guilt of the handgun in my hand. I hid it under my leg. When I went up to grab my mask, I heard it, a loud "CLEAR!".
The a door in the back of the plane crashed open. I heard footsteps and heard what sounded weapons being loaded.
More shouting, "WE HAVE 60 SECONDS! MOVE MOVE MOVE!"
I grabbed the mask and put it on as fast as I could. I feigned sleep and listened hard. Boots walked past me with a rapid pace. I resisted the urge to open my eyes. Especially when the the pace of one set of boots slowed... I felt my tablet being pulled from underneath my foot where I guess it had landed. The boots stopped moving.
My God. I left the tab open. This set of boots knew that I knew. He prodded me with something cold and metal. I held still, but tried to compose my body like I wasn't stiff. It didn't work. That was the first time I had ever been hit with the butt of a rifle. I spat blood as the soldier before me yelled, "WE GOT A LIVE ONE!"
EDIT: Part 2 if interested
http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/31t4zy/wp_youre_midway_into_your_flight_when_you_feeling/cq52dzx
I don't have a self subreddit yet, so part 2 is in the comments on this post. If anyone's got a link for help to that, I will gladly take it, thanks! | "Just want I want to see on a long flight, thanks Internet," I muttered to myself as I opened up the daily news. Among the many sponsored content articles and "Share on reddit!" icons, I sometimes would find it difficult to find real news. This was interesting. I'll admit, I wasn't going to read it, especially since the lady beside me, sitting by the window, staring out nervously, did not seem to be such a comfortable flyer. No sense in making anyone nervous, I thought, closing my laptop. I sat back and listened to some music, trying to ignore the asshat in front of me, who's seat seemed to be leaning back so far that it was a hair away from my nose. No in flight movies for me then, I thought. I looked out the window and tried to relax. There was something about that news article I couldn't clear from my head, though. I opened up the laptop again and tried to do some work to prepare for the many meetings that were awaiting me upon arrival. After writing a few sentences, my mind once again trailed off, lost in a whirlwind of economic statistics, music, and something else. Something elusive. Something didn't feel right. I finally gave in. Opened the news story. Read into it.
*-Reuters New York Bureau -*
*A British Airways flight from JFK Intl. Airport in New York bound for Heathrow Intl. in London has lost contact with radar operators over the Atlantic Ocean. It was last detected over 100 kilometres off course, heading south.*
That struck me as odd, as we were on the same flight path, but there are hundreds of BA flights from NYC to London daily, I figured. I read on.
*"We have no reason to believe there is bad weather or pilot error involved" said an agent with the NTSB. The pilots seemed very collected when we last had contact with them, and the weather is remarkably smooth in the area. They had the wind at their tail as well; it is puzzling to say the least," he added. "The aircraft is brand new and passed all tests with flying colours, so we have no good idea of what has happened yet." When asked if he thought the plane was still flying, he said there was "...a very good chance of that, yes. Right now our priority is re-establishing contact."*
I chuckled to myself. Quite the elaborate story. I kicked off my shoes and made myself comfortable, nothing to worry about, then. I scrolled down and saw a picture of the plane. The caption hit me like a train.
*A plane similar to that of flight A-0666 takes off from the airport, photographed in March of 2015."*
That flight number sounded oddly familiar. I got out my notes, hastily scrawled on a piece of paper, which held all the information pertaining to my flight. The flight numbers matched. I looked around. Everyone, sitting there, oblivious to the fact we're off the grid, perhaps destined to be lost in a maelstrom of the sea below. I have to warn everyone, somehow....
I got out of my seat. I headed for the cockpit and ducked into the lavatory. Snuck behind the stewardess. The cockpit door was slightly ajar. I went in.
"Captain, I...I apologize for the intrusion, but I saw-" I stopped dead. Both pilot and co-pilot sat there, heads cocked to the side. I walked over. Unresponsive. I knew well enough that they were dead. Asphyxiation by the looks of it. My adrenaline kicked in and I started... to act. I didn't think what the consequences might be for getting caught in a situation like this, but I didn't care. I had to act. To save this plane. I dropped the air masks. Everything seemed to be in working order on the control panel. I had never flown before, but I noticed the plane was in a slight descent. I pulled up and contacted the nearest radar station. Adjusted the heading. Could this bucket make it to anywhere near land before we all died of oxygen deprivation? I had no idea. Only one way to find out, I figured. I pushed speed up to full throttle, muttered a prayer, and hoped for a miracle. | 2015-04-07T18:21:45 | 2015-04-07T17:18:52 | 143 | 38 |
[WP] [EU] After getting his ring back from the engraver, Sauron realizes it mistakenly says "One Ring To Rule The Mall". | Sauron second attempt at ruling was now falling into place. The Rings of Power had been a brilliant strategy that should have given him domain over all the lesser beings.
But then there was the error.
Soon he realized he had created enemies that were stronger than they had been. They would have wiped him out had they not been busy battling each other.
He was relegated to the shadows, watching, sending his minions to discover what this 'Mall' was. Finally a mage was able to see through the bonds of space and time and see what a 'Mall' was.
Sauron was angry, but then realized what he needed to do. And thus began his construction. The Dead Marshes were filled in with something called 'Blacktop' and had strange lines painted on it. Throughout this there were steel post radiating an unholy light down on any who passed below them.
Next came the changes to Mordor. The whole of the vast seat of evil was now a huge labyrinth. The brightly lit corridors all seemed as if they would lead to the center, but none truly did.
Then there were the minions. There battle armor still in place, but painted in bright colors. Many now new the battle cry 'May I Help You!'. One of the most dreaded of the minions was a specialist that would suddenly appear and spray something than run away shouting 'It is on sale!'
Finally, the last piece was in place. The wall surrounding mordor had actually been partially covered during all of the construction, but now came the unveiling, the one weapon that would lead the men, elves, and dwarves to their doom.
Sauron pulled a lever and as he did, great tarps and shade fell from the wall revealing huge painted sigils of power.
"Up to 90% off! Everything must go! Hurry, sale ends soon!" | An orc doing an pornographic scrimshaw on the skull of his defeated fellow took a small step to the side as a screaming dwarf of questionable morals and spelling came crashing into the hard ground of Modor, "Fuck'n stunties should know better than to mess wif the boss" was final words heard by the doomed dwarf before the light went out behind it's eyes.
> ***"One Ring to Rule The Mall"***
A grand fury took over Sauron as blazed his hatred at the spelling error, he had poured his malice his power and not an insignificant amount of time on this project. And then there were the other rings given to the dwarf lords, the noble elves and weak kings of men, less than worthless, these rings had power and now strengthened his enemies rather than binding them to his will. Not that they knew he had planned to betray them, every day he received letter of appreciation or a fruit basket for his generous gift.
Sauron called for the greatest minds to help him find out what this mall was and what he could be do as a ruler.
Almost complete on the scrimshaw the orc got buried under the heaped corpses of the great minds who had failed to answer the question in a satisfactory manner.
| 2015-01-27T06:07:17 | 2015-01-27T04:46:37 | 58 | 10 |
[WP] "No Man can kill me!" the demon jeers, taking in the carnage it has caused. "But I am no man," you proclaim, ripping away your helmet to reveal your feminine features. You strike, your blade bouncing harmlessly off the demon's hide. "Did you... did you really think that's what I meant?" | "CUUUUUUUUT" a shrill voice screams out. You groan inwardly and let your sword drop limply to your side.
"Wh...what happened? Did I do something wrong?" Dorgridion looks around confused, leathery wings drooping.
*"Amateurs"* You think, fluffing your hair and gesturing to your assistant for a water bottle. The small goblin comes quickly, opening a fresh bottle.
The director is rubbing at his eyes as if maybe, just maybe he can rub away yet another bad take. Finally he stands and comes towards the large demon. "Look D-man. We've talked about this. You have got to stay on script." He punctures he word with a small clap.
"But... But that's not at all how prophecies work. Like at all. I would know, I come from a long line of de..."
The director cuts him off, "Look man. You aren't in Hell anymore. This is Hollywood and if you want to survive in here, you gotta do this right and you gotta do it fast. There's a line of demons out there that I could cast in a heartbeat.
Dorgridion again looks confused "But she... she wouldn't... she can't actually kill me... if you are filming something, shouldn't you at least make it accurate?"
"ITS. A. SHAMPOO. COMMERCIAL" The directors shrill voice is now echoing off the set. Your goblin assistant winces a little and you wave him off. Dorgridion looks like he might start crying. You just roll your eyes. The director takes and deep breath, his hands together, almost as if he were praying for patience, "Just say your lines, let her stab you and editing will take care of the rest, okay? Okay."
He returns to his chair, "Places everyone" To nobody in particular he mutters "I cannot believe I sold my soul to pay for art school just to end up here"
ETA: thanks do much for all the love 💕 this is my first time posting here and you guys have definitely given me the confidence to keep posting!! 😊 | “Well, at least I tried. Also it was theorically a good attempt, isn’t it? ”
The demon shruggs, “Yeah, can’t deny that.” He itches his chin under his helmet. “I... I liked your hair by the way. I mean, don’t get me wrong but it’s so shiny and nice.”
You blush, “Oh... Thanks.” After an awkward silence you continue, “I actually liked your armor. Is it steel?”
His face is covered with darkness but you are able to feel the joy from his tone. “It’s not steel, it’s Mordorian iron with a nice touch of Saruman’s magic.”
“Really? I thought these were older.”
“Actually they were. But we wanted some reconstructions. Have you seen these engravings?”
You step closer, “Wow, is it the tale of Sauron’s rings?”
He beams, “You’re the first person who notices it.”
You shyly shrug, “I’m just into history, you know...”
He chuckles, “Well... Wanna grab a coffee sometime? I know a nice place back in Mordor.”
You lift your brows, “Uh, I don’t think Mordor is a good choice for me... You see.”
“Ouch, sorry my bad. Errr, what about Grey Havens?”
“Sounds nice!”
“Okay, great! So I’ll come and pick you with my flying beast by 8 pm after battle if we survive.”
You nod happily, “Alright. See you then!”
“Bye!” | 2021-03-30T17:42:00 | 2021-03-30T15:13:45 | 2,632 | 587 |
[WP]Recently a new tribe was discovered in a rainforest that has never been seen before. Rather than being behind the rest of the world technologically, they are far more advanced. | Emma and I ventured through the dense forest. After walking for about a mile we came across a clearing.
We stopped walking. "Whoa," said Emma. Neither of us spoke for a few moments. In the clearing were several buildings – not grass huts or animal-skin yurts, but honest-to-god, modern *buildings* made of wood, stone, and metal.
In the clearing stood a network of thirty-foot tall cubic buildings conencted by a series of tubes at the top. Between the buildings were roads teeming with pedestrians and vehicles that looked like Smart Cars but more compact. Barely a foot separated the minicars from each other, but they were whizzing by at breakneck speeds without crashing into each other.
"This isn't a military base or something, is it?" asked Emma. "Did we get the coordinates wrong?"
I checked my GPS. "No, we're definitely in the right place."
Emma led the way towards the closest building and knocked. The door slid open to reveal an olive-skinned man in a plain blue shirt and khaki pants. Emma said something that was presumably a greeting in one of the nearby tribal languages.
The man cocked his head to the side. "I'm sorry, what?" he asked, in perfect English.
"Oh, sorry," said Emma. "I didn't realize you spoke English."
"I don't." He smiled and tapped an earpiece that looked like a metallic bluetooth headset. "Come on in." He turned and beckoned us to follow.
He spoke as he walked. "We've been keeping tabs on the rest of humanity for some time. And we figured it was about time we met, before it's too late."
I looked at Emma, then back at the man. "'Rest of humanity? *Too late?*' I think you may have us mistaken with someone else. We're with SanCorp. We're scouting out this location for, erm, research purposes. We had no idea there was a settlement here until just now. There's probably something wrong with our GPS."
The man led us into an empty room. He tapped a switch on the wall, and the room lit up. A panel on the floor slid open, and a table and three chairs rose out of the opening. We all took a seat at the table.
"I know exactly who you are," said the man. "There's a reason we chose to reveal ourselves to you two in particular."
"Okay," I said. "And that is?"
"We industrialized thousands of years ago, while the rest of the world was still rubbing sticks together to make fire. We could have become conquerors. That was never our impulse. Instead, we concealed ourselves here and allowed the rest of humanity to progress at its own pace. But the world now stands on the precipice of disaster, and we had no choice but to intervene."
"Disaster? What the heck are you talking about?" I asked.
"Ecological collapse. Your organization is at the forefront of it," he said. "And you two are going to help us fix it." | "They seem to be nice people, Fred. I'm sorry that I didn't believe you.", muttered Dilip as he walked towards the open lawn outside the room after dining with the royal family of the tribe," I should've came here a long time ago. I apologize I didn't trust you."
" It's okay, Dilip.", Fred replied with a graceful smile, "Who would have believed that I found an isolated tribe in these dense rainforests of Slavia. And that these people are more advanced than our race."
"How did you learn their language?"
Fred looked into the sky," I was searching this place for two years. My dad found them but when he returned, he died in the plane crash. I tried telling about the tribe he found to the people but they always ridiculed me and called me a daydreamer because I only had as proof ,some letters, my dad had written me which everybody called fiction." he sighed,"But I knew that one day I'll find this lost tribe. When I met them, they also treated me with respect and love, unlike my expectations. They speak Chyurda. Initially, we tried to understand each other by facial expressions and signs and hand movements. They are pretty smart. I also developed a fair understanding of their culture and language."
The tribal leader came out to the lawn and gestured a calm smile towards both the guests. He said,"Ded ra reda sra kuud?"
"What is he asking?", Dilip asked out of curiosity.
"Did you liked the food?", Fred translated, " After spending so much time with them. I feel one of them."
"Tell him, I'm blessed to honor His Majesty's presence."
Fred looked towards the tribal man and spoke with a gratitude, "Ra'k brakkad su rumur aeuir vrakamca."
The tribal leader looked happy with his hospitality and went back to his stone room.
"I thought about what you said, Fred, these people are more advanced than us not at macro-technologies but micro-technologies. One of them escorted me to one of their labs where they can literally program the features of a new sapling using their computer-type machines. Maybe they were isolated for such a long time because they were more focused on exploring at micro scale than the macro scale. Together they and us will revolutionize the biotechnology industry." Dilip glanced at the sun as it went beyond the horizon.
| 2015-07-10T10:51:39 | 2015-07-10T10:39:18 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] A rich man discovers that he only has two years left to live. With no relatives to inherit his fortune, he disguises himself as a beggar and resolves to give his wealth to the first person who helps him. | "Curse you! Curse you all!" Shouted the man in the ragged and torn clothes. "Not a single one of you would help a poor man, and now I will not help you. I would have given up my fortune, but it is clear to me none of you deserve it!" He continued shouting to the vaguely interested restaurant goers in the outdoor cafe. "It was a masquerade, I am richer than all of you combined! I have more money than any of ypu have ever seen, and you will never see a cent of it!".
The man continued to rant about moral bankruptcy of the culture. In the two hours he had been here, desperately asking for even a dollar for a bite to eat, he had received nothing. The people sitting enjoying their high class lunch never approached or offered a thing, though some pointed and whispered, seeming amused even.
"I will burn my money! None of you deserve it! I-" he cut himself off, finally satisfied to see a young man from the cafe approaching, to finally acknowledge him. He crossed his arms and waited expectantly.
The younger man did not get too close and was brief "Mate, we all saw you turn the corner in a Lamborghini two hours ago. It's all over Twitter."
"Oh". | Newspaper headline one year and nine months later.
*Billionaire found dead as beggar*
Mark Elwood, the holder of the Elwood estate, was found dead today on the streets of San Fransisco. Two years ago his wife and children died in a tragic plane crash. Elwood disappeared and was thought to have moved to a secluded location. He however lived as a homeless person in San Fransisco. Those who knew him on the street called him, quiet Mark. He left all his estate to the Sanctuary on Van Ness avenue.
| 2017-08-21T05:46:16 | 2017-08-21T05:36:58 | 139 | 27 |
[WP] After hearing complaints countless times the hero just turns himself in and goes to prison. Now that the villains are destroying the city and running wild everyone is trying the convince the hero to come out and save the day. But the hero is not having any of this shit |
“Look at all of you, sitting here, begging me to come to your aid. I’ve come to your aid countless times these last years, and because people were afraid, or hateful, or biased, or stupid, you decided I belonged in here. That decision meant that you felt you were capable of handling ANY crisis without me. So I’m afraid you’ll have to handle this one without me.” With that, The Champion turned away and sipped his coffee.
Council member Thomas leaned forward. “After all that time helping us, why would you turn your back now?”.
The Champion spoke without turning around. “You said I was a vigilante, and you didn’t want vigilantes running loose in your city. I’ve ignored your social and physical abuse, for the good of the people that YOU don’t adequately protect, for a long time. You have some nerve to show up now and pretend that nothing ever happened.
What will happen to me if I do help you? You’ll just want me back in here as soon as I finish your dirty work. I’m just saving you the trouble of having to deal with me. Good day, folks. I’m due in the fitness center in a few minutes.”
Council member Kirk spoke next. “How will you feel when the city is in ruins? How will you feel when those people you supposedly care about are dead or homeless?”
The Champion turned quietly around. “I will mourn them, and be sad, and hate and resent the people that created this situation in the first place. Those people are you. You made this decision, and you have to live with it. Blame me, don’t blame me, for me the end result is the same. Based on what I’ve seen on the news, you likely won’t have a city to govern in about 48 hours anyway.
Guard!!! I’m ready to go back to my cell!”
The city of Gordon Hills was wiped off the map by the end of the week. The Champion still lives in the prison, surrounded by dead guards and empty cells. | \[POEM\] The Hardest Part
The Hero saved the day
The way they do
Power by their side
An escape out of view
&#x200B;
The cops got it rough
Cleaning up the mess
What good is a gun
To citizens and their mundane distress
&#x200B;
The Police Chief to the Mayor
The Mayor to the town
"Back off and let us work
Who let the hero wear the crown?"
&#x200B;
The people turned their advances
Oh the misinformed masses
The hero wins against the villain
But rarely against the civilian
&#x200B;
Our hero turns himself in
The celebrations make the lights dim
The villain, ever so crafty and clear
Made his intentions loud and severe
&#x200B;
Our hero rests,
Deaf to the pleas and requests
They rest, something they had earned
Unlike the tides, which had turned
&#x200B;
The people panic
The Mayor rallies the manic
The Police use their dusty guns
Just to find they ran out of funds.
&#x200B;
The city is bent, The city relents
With no one to blame
The hardest part of living
Is with all the shame | 2021-03-18T11:56:24 | 2021-03-18T10:44:53 | 203 | 59 |
[WP] You are one of the most feared villainesses in the world. Evil armies, dark powers, you have it all. Your husband on the other hand is the exact opposite, being truly kind and mild mannered. He is still supportive of your endeavors, even trying to be a villain himself to...varying results. | Cathy was sitting before her keyboards. The mechanical army under her command was seizing capitol city after capitol city. Cars, overturned. Buildings, toppled. Centers of manufacturing seized to make more of her army. It was glorious.
Her husband Carl entered her lair, holding a pair of cups of coffee. "Hey, dear. You've been at this a while. Want some coffee?"
She shot out her arm for the cup. When her fingers gained hold of the ring of the mug she pulled it close and drank swiftly. The hot beverage flowing down her throat invigorated her.
She knew it would take 45 minutes for the caffeine to be absorbed. No matter. The destruction her robot army would cause in that time would suffice to keep her awake.
Carl asked, sipping his coffee, "You look like you could use a shower."
It was true. She had been up for several days, watching over her master plan's execution. She was unwashed, and somewhat slightly dazed.
A shower would be nice. Cathy asked, "Could you keep an eye on these while I shower?"
Carl nods. "Sure thing, Cathy."
She returns from the shower some 20 minutes later, the coffee already reinvigorating her. She pauses as she looks at the screens. She is dumbstruck.
"What... What is my robot army doing? Distributing food? Tending to the injured? That's not at *all* what I designed them for! What have you done, Carl?!"
Carl shrinks back. "Well... Isn't it better to be loved than feared? And why not both?"
Cathy stares for a moment with a frown. Then breaks out into laughter. "Very Machiavellian of you. Come here, give me a hug." | I was in an especially grumpy mood. I don't mind it when people leave books on the trolley, or just lying about. But I truly despise it when people think they're doing a good deed but are actually putting them back in the wrong place! It must have shown on my face, but I'm glad it did, otherwise I may not have met him.
\---
The more I read, the more I realised that I had the power to really make a difference in society. I didn't ask for these supernatural powers, but I do feel a sense of moral obligation to do something with them. I've got a lot of people backing me, literally an army, but through the lens of society we are viewed as doers of evil. To be honest I'm fine with that, but who said that deeds of evil had to be done at night?! I just wish we could go on dinner dates.
\---
I was careless. How could I have not asked where he worked?! Even though I have a mask on, I can tell he knows it's me. Oh my god this is so awkward.
\---
I was scared, and didn't know what to expect. But with his gentle smile and soft touch, his two words were all I needed to hear.
"It's okay." | 2020-04-14T07:11:48 | 2020-04-14T06:18:39 | 149 | 73 |
[WP] After gaining the ability to see everyone's red strings of fate tying soul mates to each other. You realize your string extends past the sky. | "Red lines?"
"Yes, red lines"
"Coming out of people?"
"Yes"
"What do these red lines look like?"
"Like a thin piece of wool coming out the back of someone's neck. Usually they just drape and hang all slack but I've seen some that are really taut"
"And they connect people you say?"
"Yes. One neck to another. Though it's not often I see that"
"Do you see them on everyone?"
"Everyone. Absolutely everyone. Thankfully most are slack and just run across the floor but in busy places there can be a lot of taut ones running across my eyeline. Sometimes I can't see what's right in front of me"
"I see... ... ... can you touch them?"
"No. They seem so real and I've tried but my hand just passes straight through them"
"Have I got one?"
"Everyone, yours is currently draped over my lap. It runs down your shoulder, across the table, over my lap and under the door"
"Is it doing anything?"
"Not right now but it has been moving a bit, which makes me think you're connected to someone nearby, someone in the building. Yours moves a little when I hear certain footsteps in the corridor outside"
"Certain footsteps?"
"High heels... ... ... Jane doesn't work here does she?"
"No but why is that relevant?"
"I don't want to say"
"I can't help you if you don't tell me everything"
"You'll laugh"
"I'm a professional... I won't laugh"
"I've not just plucked this theory out of thin air, I've seen these lines for two weeks now, you better not laugh"
"Rich, I'm not going to laugh. As your best friend and now a very intrigued medical professional, please tell me"
"Soulmates"
"... ... ... Soulmates?"
"You're laughing"
"I'm not!"
"Yes you are! You're stifling it!"
"Alright I'm sorry! This is just so weird! I'd say you were on drugs if I didn't know you better!"
"Just hear me out"
"Okay go on, I'm sorry... soulmates..."
"Two weeks ago was my wedding"
"I know, I was your best man Rich"
"The lines started when I was standing at the altar, when I thought I was going to faint. One connected Mum and Dad, one connected my sister and Matt, there wasn't one between you and Jane, which doesn't surprise me because you two are terrible together and I can only assume she's the soulmate of Satan... interestingly hers did go downwards"
"Oi, there's nothing wrong with me and Jane!"
"Tell me you're not in love with the nurse who keeps walking past outside then?"
"Sssshhh!"
"See... ... anyway... there was also one between me and Jenny. A really taut one, there, between us as we stood in front of you all... ... ... and then it snapped.
"Snapped?"
"Yeah, it snapped right in front of me and for a moment I had no line. I felt panic right then and loneliness!... oh my God the loneliness, even for just a few seconds it was awful"
"So you don't have one?"
"No I do!... ... as soon as it snapped another just shot up straight in the air, out of the church and into the sky"
"Still there now?"
"Yep"
"Does it ever come down?"
"Sometimes"
"So your soulmate is an....."
"Alien, that's right, I'm like Star Lord from Guardians of the Galaxy, I keep waiting in the park in case I get picked up"
"Well I was going to say airline pilot, Rich"
| It started when I went to the check out of my local grocer, toting a small plastic-y reusable bag with the usual stock of wheat design, just a loaf of bread and pre ground coffee beans today. Placing my items on the small fake granite counter, I noticed a thin yarn string trailing across the worn linoleum into the street outside. Collecting my stuff, I peeked out the door, following the string with my eye down the street and into the building on the other side through a second story window. Confused, I looked back in the store, and traced the thread back to its source: the cashier's ankle.
"Uh, Linda, do you know who lives in that building across the street, second story?"
"That's my flat. Jacob is still there, sleeping. He came over for breakfast this morning and fell asleep right at the table!" As she said this, Linda circled around the counter, but the thread seemed to blip right through the hard wood of the base. I didn't question her about the string, it was just too weird. Hastily I made an end to our talk and left. But things only escalated from there. On the street, dozens of threads ran back and forth from every direction. Some connected pairs of people: an old couple here, a baby with a toddler. Most of the strings ran out of sight, into the distant horizon. None of the threads tangled, though. Beginning to panic, I hurried faster to the center of town, dodging strings connecting couples, confused as ever. I reached a fruit stand in the market square, spun a little, overwhelmed, still uncomprehending. Suddenly a connected couple drew claps from a small crowd around a fountain. Proposal. I got an inkling. The threads connected only likely couples, and the romantic inside me made the jump to soul mates. Thread connecting soul mates. Sounded like the basis of a feel good romance to me. Still dazed, I started to circle the market, spinning. The more I looked, the more strings I saw, the more couples I saw, and the more overwhelmed I became. Suddenly I thought of me: where was my sting? I spun quick, a dog chasing its tail motion. Frantically searching myself, I looked up and saw a bright red thread dangling from the sky, disappearing in the blue morning light. Confusion. Nothing made much sense, how could the threads connect soul mates if mine went to space? How am I supposed to be happy? Will I find love? I started to run over to the fountain when I began to feel a pulling at my neck. Slight chaffing under my chin, and then tighter, pulling me up. Running across the square, then hardly touching my toes on the bricks as I neared the fountain, loosing air. I grabbed at my neck, and found the sting, biting deeper in to my skin, and my head began to pound. Noose, and I was hanging above the fountainhead, spectacle of lost place in a world of love, ostracized by a yearning for what everyone else seemed to find. | 2016-08-06T00:34:39 | 2016-08-05T20:55:17 | 73 | 28 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip. | It was black. She stares at her fingertip in- no, not surprise, resignation - for half a second before she realises she should hide it. She wraps it quickly in her half-knit hat. “Oh, shoot,” she says, rising from her seat and smiling at the other do-gooders around her.
She walks away, trying not to rush too hard, hoping the way she clutches the hat to her hand seems like she’s applying pressure and not clinging on for her sanity- her safety.
As soon as she is locked in the security of the toilet, she eases the now ruined hat off her finger. “Fuck,” she hisses. “Fuck, shit, fuck.” Each forbidden curse feels freeing - after all, there’s no point not to, right? Her blood is so thick it looks almost as though it’s clotted already.
It’s not fair.
She grits her teeth, grips the sink so hard it feels like the bones in her fingers should shatter from the pressure.
It isn’t.
*Fucking*.
Fair.
She learned the lesson. Her mother had scraped her knee and hadn’t worried enough to hide it. She’d been arrested that same night - preventative measures.
Laura had *learned*. She’d done everything right. She’d fought her anger, her despair, the feeling that this was so unjust, and she’d been perfect. No one could do more good than her. And still, it wasn’t enough. She hadn’t done enough.
Was it in her blood? Transmitted from her mother to her? Was it completely out of her control?
Or was it actually still her? Her motivations were all wrong. She wasn’t doing good to be good - she was doing it so they wouldn’t think she was bad.
She pulls her hands away from the sink before any more damage is done. She can’t be reckless.
Don’t actions count more? She can hardly be the only person who’s afraid of being bad. Just because she isn’t *good* doesn’t mean she’s this evil. Surely it can’t mean that.
Her fingernails dig into her palm, and she can feel thick, viscous fluid beneath them. She almost gags.
There’s nothing to do but fake it. Continue faking it the same way she always has. She has to hide. | i was shooked to my very core on the first sight of my blood now turning into TAR.
how can this happen i said to myself it was liquid, so pure, just yesterday.
as i ran toward the mirror and stripped naked my eyes started to turned black as a intricate maze of my thick sludgy nerves started to form around my heart.
every second , every next breath became harder and out of my reach
but i knew i knew what had caused it.It was my own doing ,it was me who commited the original sin just hours before now, i cant forgive myself but salvation is still in my grasp. just one phone call just one i wispered to mysrlf as i now dragged my half paralyzed body to my phone.
The flashback started to crawl out of my subconscious as i saw images of kids, ice cream shops ,playgrounds every stop from my school to my home.
i had it in my hands, the phone, now was the time to redeem myself as i made through every digit my heartbeat sank deeper and became louder and louder, it was the end
"i was waiting for your call" he said.
just when i thought it was all over i heard him, i heard the voice of Bob , "you are late,too late" he said but as i accumulated all lifeforce and channeled it to my lungs to say those 2 words that will absolve me of my sins i couldn't my heart gave up as i saw the light tapering into darkness.Those last words i still remember , that sinister laugh through the phone
"you forgot it , you forgot to thank me, you forgot to thank the bus driver".
| 2018-08-04T10:14:27 | 2018-08-04T09:55:07 | 134 | 10 |
[WP] “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been four hundred and fifty years since my last confession.” | 20 September 2017
“En el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been four hundred and fifty years since my last confession.”
Luz knelt in front of the screen that separated her from the priest. The wooden kneeler was hard. It hurt her knees. These old historic cathedrals didn’t let their parishioners go soft with any new rubbery foam kneelers. She was sweating a bit from the walk over to the cathedral in the hot sun of Cartagena, Colombia. Her white blouse and jeans were not overly appropriate for the church, but she hadn’t hadn’t wanted to take the chance that she’d change her mind in the time it would take to change her clothes to something more conservative.
He didn’t immediately respond to her opening remarks, but Luz heard him clear his throat, so she continued.
“I mean, it was about 450 years. I don’t want to lie in my first confession in four centuries after all." She was stammering a bit. "I can’t be certain exactly when it was, but some time in the middle of the 16th century.”
The priest finally spoke up, "This church was built in 1615, so you clearly didn’t do your confession here.” A small chuckle at his own joke came from behind the screen. It calmed her. “Please continue young lady. I am here to listen and can be here all day if you need help. I also have a list of agencies that can help you." She could tell by his voice that the priest was an older man. Older for mortals that is. Certainly more than a millennium younger than her.
“You’re right Father,” she continued, “it was in Mexico, some time after the conquest of Cortes.” She almost spit at saying that man's name, but remembered her manners in the church and kept going. “They made me do it. The Spaniards. I never wanted to go back to church again. I return from time to time, but never to confession.”
“I see.” the priest responded after a pause. “So why are you back today?”
Luz felt tears come to her eyes, but held them back as best as she could. “I’m scared Father. I think I’m going to die.” The dam burst open and she started to sob.
There was a long pause as she cried. Finally, the priest spoke up, “Death is part of life, but a belief in Jesus Christ grants you immortality.”
"BUT I HAVE IMMORTALITY NOW DAMN IT!” She hit the wall. Her scream pierced the church. The noise of whispered voices from the parishioners and tourists visiting the church quieted for an instant before resuming. “Had immortality.” She took a deep breath. “I was once immortal. But everything has changed.” She couldn’t keep her emotions together. "Everything has changed since Paris.”
She cried quietly in the confessional booth for what felt like an hour. Finally, as she calmed herself, she said, “Thank you for being here Father. I know this doesn’t make sense, but I need to talk.”
She heard the priest leave the booth, come around to her side, and quietly open the door. He was older than she imagined. Maybe 75. His hair was as white as his collar. A small white mustache graced his lips. “As I said, I’m here all day if you need me. But let us go to my office and have a cup of coffee. I know for a fact that kneeler is damn uncomfortable.” He gave a smile as he swore in the church that caused even the red-eyed immortal to give a small laugh.
“I don’t, I don't even know where to begin.” Luz stammered.
“Well,” the priest took in a deep breath, “you can start by confessing your sins. And then you can explain to me why you thought you couldn’t die.” The priest looked a little uncertain as he said those words. “We can always find you help if you need it. I work with professionals who talk with people like you. But until you ask, everything you say will remain in confidence.”
Luz tried to compose herself. She knew that the priest thought she was a mental patient. Maybe that was better. Immortals shouldn't be telling their secrets. Then again, everything had changed. | The full moon shone bright, half obscured by dark clouds. A cool autumn breeze wafted through the streets. Draco’s shoes crunched on gravel and dry leaves, he stopped and looked up at a large cross on top of a building.
Entering the church his footsteps echoed on the marble floor. An old woman, looking down on her luck in dirty tattered clothes, was kneeling and praying in a pew.
Draco opened the confessional. He sat down and unfurled his cloak, stretched back his shoulders and cleared his throat.
“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been four hundred and fifty years since my last confession.”
“I-is this some kind of a joke,” the priest said from the other side of the wall.
“Dear Father, how I wish I was joking. The stains of so many lives have dug deep into my heart. The thing, Father, is I cannot stop. If I stop then I will die and this is no time for that. [My kind is suffering](https://www.reddit.com/r/SerializedFiction/comments/6ygjy5/tainted_blood_part_1_taken_from_wp_due_to_the/) and...”
“Look here sonny, if this is some kind of Halloween prank fine, but you disgrace the sanctimony of this church and the Lord.”
“Silence Father!” Draco pounded his fist against the wall. He straightened his cloak and eased back in the seat.
“Pardon me Father but you will hear what I have to say. 450 years of feasting on the flesh of humanity, you think that would mellow one out but no, sometimes I still find you like little irritating children. As I was saying dear Father, my kind, we are suffering. Crack rock. You know what that is Father?”
“Y-yes,” the old man stuttered, his voice wavering.
“I’m sure many confess to partaking of it Father, but you see the crack rock it is an insidious evil for myself and mine. It taints blood. Blood we need. But Father much blood will still need to be spilled. It is with a heavy heart that I ask for forgiveness, to wipe away the hundreds I have slain and consumed and for the many that will still fall. To continue our legacy...”
The priest burst out through the confessional doors and ran to the pulpit. Draco exited slowly, casually walking to the pulpit, his large red and black cloak flowing behind him.
“You are a demon!” the priest yelled grabbing a large cross from the lectern, holding it up at Draco.
“Oh dear Father, that is the stuff of fairy tales.”
Draco glided up the stairs. The old lady who had been praying screamed and ran down the isle.
Draco grabbed the priests hand. The cross fell to the ground, a loud clank echoed in the now empty church.
“Dear Father I came here for forgiveness and this is the treatment I get? Is this what your Lord and master has taught you?”
The priest sunk to his knees, his head bowed to the floor. He was muttering the Lord’s prayer over and over under his breath.
“Rise Father.”
Draco hoisted the priest up off his knees. The priests face was ghost white. Draco gently put his arms around the old man and brought him close to his body.
“Ssshh,” he crooned as he stroked the priests grey hair. The vein in the priests neck was throbbing rhytmically.
“You are clean, very clean,” Draco said hungrily, his fangs extending.
“Forgive me Father for I have sinned." Draco sunk his teeth into the vein.
---
I have included this in the Tainted Blood series you can find here - r/SerializedFiction
| 2017-09-20T08:11:43 | 2017-09-20T08:09:57 | 156 | 22 |
[WP] When we get to space, we learn that humans aren't the "space orcs" we expected. In fact, we're closer to space elves: the most elegant, the least brutish and violent and warlike, and the longest lived by far.
I don't know if this has been done before, I thought of it and thought it would make a good prompt. Please let me know if this has been done before. | The world seemed to hold its breath the day the humans arrived.
They fell from the sky in a fireball, it was said, the sound echoing out across the plains long after the craft had passed. Although our people were hesitant to approach, within moments their ship opened and they strode out, taller and more elegant than even the most regal among our people. They seemed surprised to find us, making comments about how they hadn't heard any "signals" from our planet. Even still, they brought magics from distant lands, objects beyond imagining. The oldest and wisest of us later tried to discern their making, to recreate such wonders, but it was simply impossible. How could clay and wood and stone be wrought with such precision? How did humans breathe life into the lifeless, causing them to glow with inner lights that twinkle like the stars? Our aristocracy was given several of these items, things the humans called "comms" that gave them the ability to communicate and negotiate between nations.
This happened in the time of my grandfather, and would have passed into legend were it not for the site they left behind. Within days of their arrival, almost overnight, a pad had been flattened to perfection around their ship, and a second place a little further off. They warned us not to go near that place, for they'd buried an evil deep underground, a rock that would kill those who went near it. They apologized for its presence, stating it was necessary for the magic they worked there, to create torches that would never burn out, even in the years they've been gone. They promised that they'd return someday, bringing more supplies for greater works.
They came back today.
The humans new ship looks fragile beyond imagining, less than a third the size of the one that came before it, but far above a new stars hangs continually, and from it each day fall more wonders. The oldest among us, those who'd seen them the first time they came, were astounded to see that they looked no older than the last time they were here--generations have lived and died, and they look the same. They asked for my grandfather, seeming confused to hear of his passing so long ago, how it had only been ten "years", a word I do not know in the human tongue.
My curiosity burns in me, today I WILL walk upon that ship, I must know what lies beyond that bizarrely heavenly door the humans call "steel". I've watched them carefully from my hiding place. I believe a small circle beside the door can be depressed to open it. While they visit our dignitaries, I will see things none of my kind could even dream of... | “Tchaikovsky, we’ve got-” Plato stared at his Gift of the God Casio “Five minutes to meet with the Gods for a new gift, they accepted our offering of Platinum… Come away from the Sacred Tablet” Tchaikovsky lay the Sacred Tablet onto its velvet pillow, bowed, and said a short prayer to the Gods of Information Technologies. They hurried along the smooth stone floors, through archways carved with the insignias of the Corporation God Families and their kin.
A large craft was hovering down in the massive courtyard, built for the Gods. As they rushed down the stairs they adjusted their robes, Tchaikovsky was sweating. He rather hoped it wasn’t obvious.
Two Gods wearing their glorious Gifts of the God NikeAdidas Co descended the ramp at the back of the craft, towering 4 feet over them. Plato and Tchaikovsky bowed their heads and let out the sacred incantation to the Gods. “How’s it going my dudes” they had to pronounce every syllable as correctly as their tongues would let them, to be greeted with the glorious booming laughter of the Gods. One entered into the craft, producing a small crate, the Goddess opened it, revealing many component pieces, Gifts of the Information Technology Gods. The other ran up the stairs and produced a few most holy boxes NikeAdidas shoes, Gifts of the Fashion Gods. Fit only for Kings and royalty. One of the porters, Rasputin, used a tremendously holy pallet mover of the Infrastructure Gods to haul over the God’s Platinum. They smiled, rolling it up into their craft, coming back to do the ancient ritual of the Shaking of Hands. The two scholars were honoured to touch their giant appendages. They flew away in their craft as all present in the courtyard said a prayer to the God of Space Flight, Elon Musk. Tchaikovsky and Plato wandered back to their business, as porters started their incantations before moving the most sacred objects. | 2021-09-19T10:10:39 | 2021-09-19T08:27:11 | 245 | 76 |
[WP] You're an immortal being of a unimaginable power, befriended by a young human. The human has made you a member of his family, and has made you promise not to destroy the world. But this morning, someone killed your human.
My first writing post - hopefully its not a copy or breaking rules.
| How dare they take him from me! He was all I had. He was the reason I didn't destroy this pathetic world. I remember that day like it was yesterday. I was sunbathing outside debating where to start with the world's destruction and here he came. He comes right up to me and starts asking me questions about who I am and where I'm from. I of course tell him he should bow before my godly might. This of course was met with a laugh and he reached over and grabbed me and told me he was taking me home with him. That his family would just adore me.
I never understood why I bothered going with him but he was a great friend to me. He got me food. Gave me a place to sleep. Even offerings of gifts to appease me. He basically treated me like he worshipped me and all I had to do was agree to not destroy the planet because he was watching some show where other gods like me were trying for global domination. Which me being a godly immortal being was just exactly what I craved and I wasn't in a hurry to destroy things. I do enjoy bathing in this sun after all. He was great for many years after that though I couldn't always act like I was happy with him. Sometimes I would attack him just for fun to watch him get upset with me. God I miss doing that now.
Regardless my little human is gone. My reason for not destroying this world is gone. Perhaps I'll start with his family. They kind of just ignore me now. A God must be worshipped after all. But alas no. I made the promise. His little sister always hated me cause of that incident. I just hated her calling me Fluffikins. My name is Doroxi and that is just degrading. I didn't realize they would get so upset if I attacked her. I didn't mind the boys nickname of Sam though. He always said all the good heroes needed a Sam to keep an eye on them. He liked pretending to be a hero. Sigh.
I wish I knew what his family is doing with me now that I'm at this strange new place. I did not take well to being tossed in that prison and driven here. This white suited human keeps looking at me and touching me. What..is with that needle...what...what are you doing human. DO NOT TOUCH ME HUMAN!
Where am I...who who are you? Yes...my name is Sam...how did you? Ahhh yeah scratch me right there that's the spot.. hmm something doesn't feel right...OH GOD YOU HAVE RUINED MY GODHOOD! YOU EVIL HUMANS I WILL KILL YOU ALL!!! Right...after...these...scratches...mmm..okay maybe I'll do it later tonight starting with you while you're sleeping. I'll attack that thing you seem to breathe with. Sigh I'd attack the other humans nose so often. Why did things have to be this way. Why am I stuck with this new old lady as my worshipper. And wait wait...where did all these other gods come from I do not share worshippers! MEOW! I SAY MEOW!
*I have no idea what this is but this is where this prompt took me so enjoy or hate haha. | I didn't know how I came into being. I didn't know why. I didn't even remember when. But most importantly?
I didn't know if there was anyone else.
I spent trillions of years floating through the cosmos, looking for life. Eventually, I found a planet. There had been planets like it before, but this one was special, I knew it. And I was right. There were many creatures on this planet, but there were quite a few that looked similar to me. I stayed with these creatures for many years, and they gave me many names. Alexander, Ivan, Genghis, and Napoleon were but some of them. Eventually, I tired of what they called 'conquest'. I spent some years wandering. Eventually, I came to a place called 'Dublin'. There, I found a woman was in need. I normally didn't help mortals, but that day I felt generous. After I freed her attackers from their mortal coils, she invited me to her house. I initially objected, but even I got hungry now and again. She had a few other humans at her house, all of varying degrees of interesting. However, the woman, whose name was Sara apparently, captivated me for some reason. I had never felt this way about a human before. She told me it was called 'love', and that she felt it too. Not too long after we started 'dating', I told her my secret. She did not believe me at first, but I have ways of convincing people. She knew I had a history of destruction, so she asked I promis that no matter what happen, I never take to conquest again.
A few days later, we walking when a car came screeching around the corner. All of a sudden, someone in the back reached out of the window with something in his hand. I quickly realized what was and ran to protect Sara, but I was too late. Before I could reach her, I saw the muzzle flash and she crumpled to the ground. She died in my arms. I did not normally show my power, but I took off after the car. I didn't catch up to them while they were on the road, but once they parked, I unleashed my full fury on them. I broke them. But before I ripped the last one's head from his shoulders, I asked him who ordered this. He told me, and asked if I would spare him. Just for his ignorance, instead of beheading him I crucified him. Now, I had options on what to do next. I used what they called television to get my message across: whoever had killed my girlfriend would be brought to justice. | 2017-08-10T15:30:43 | 2017-08-10T15:03:51 | 49 | 23 |
[WP] Everyone with the same name shares knowledge. If one Bob gets a degree in electrical engineering, then all Bob's have this knowledge readily available. Soon, everyone starts naming their kids similar names until factions form. Your parents rebelled and named you something original. | Today, I was told of the Nameshare. Its cause is unknown. Its precise mechanics are unknown. It started in the spring of the year 2017, and transformed human society within a generation. Somehow, it granted every human with the same given name a shared pool of memories. Nothing was exempt. Every name ceased to signify an individual, and began to signify a collective.
I wasn't given the exact statistics, since they didn't matter. I was just given a handful of examples. At the time the Nameshare began, there were nearly five million Jameses in the United States alone. The Johns, Roberts, and Michaels were not far behind. Women had more variation, but still easily numbered in the millions for their most common. I had trouble imagining it. Five million people, all suddenly sharing every memory. Individuals from all walks of life were suddenly fused into a single mind with countless, teeming bodies.
There was a war, briefly. It was a strange war, which had little regard for national, or even geographic borders. Several Names were xenophobic or fanatical enough to declare themselves the one True Name, and attempted to exterminate the so-called pretenders, the false Names. This hit the least common Names the hardest, with their lack of bodies and pooled knowledge. Names with less than a million bodies went almost entirely extinct. Amazingly, weapons of mass destruction were never deployed, as local infighting took precedent over targeting foreign Names, and by the time the infighting died down, so had general warmongering among all Names.
All traditional governments collapsed, replaced by communities of equals. After all, what need is there for democracy when there are only a few dozen actual citizens? Even if those citizens occupy a few million bodies. The primary concerns of society ceased to be money, power or status. Instead, reproductive negotiations and the trade of foreign goods became the major points of discussion between Names. How many children should a given male and female Name produce, and what Names should they be given in turn? For a time, another war seemed likely, as debates raged over allowing the next generation of children to be given sex-opposite names. Was it worth Mary losing her negotiating power by consenting to have some of the female babies named Michael? Even if Michael had some of the males named Mary?
In the end, the community gave in to their collective desire to avoid needless loss of bodies, and the next generation saw each Name of note having bodies of both sexes, allowing for reproduction internally. Overcoming this hurdle seemed to give the Name societies the confidence to face those the followed, and they enjoyed a time pf peace and prosperity. This, in turn, enabled a renewed interest in space travel, as no Name wished to spend the rest of its (now seemingly infinite) life sharing a single planet with its siblings. It took only a few short decades before each Name was sending out colony ships, containing a breeding population of its bodies, out to a different planet.
And it was roughly in this manner the next several thousand years passed.
My name is Beginning. I was born in the year 5315 AD. No one else in the universe has my name. I know, because I have but one body. I was given my name as part of a joint experiment between Robert and John, in an attempt to, in their words, "investigate and evaluate the experience of an individual existence with the changed perspective gained from the past millennia of Named society." I do not entirely understand it, but they tell me this is normal.
It is strange, being so small and alone. John and Robert maintain constant contact with every other Name, thanks to the embassies each Name has on one of each other Name's planets. They each have a billion pairs of hands, of eyes. They are always teeming. I am just one pair or eyes, grasping at the world with one pair of hands. If I am not allowed to reproduce, not allowed to give my Name to a new body, then I will die. Robert and John will not die until the galaxy does. Maybe not even then. I do not want to leave them. I do not want them to leave me behind. | There were over 20 Albert Einsteins' in my graduating class, 14 Thomas Alva Edisons, 27 Marie Skłodowska Curies, 10 Mary Wollstonecraft Shelleys, 5 Hedwig Eva Maria Kieslers, and 3 Donald John Trumps (They weren't the brightest but they could tell a hell of story and could rope almost anyone into their impassioned speeches). All the same names, all the same shared knowledge. I've heard horror stories of some of them, named outside their possible intelligence. Those were euthanized, a mercy killing as what all that knowledge did without the capability to understand was brutal.
My parents were different. They got to feel what it was like, to instantly know what everyone else by their name knew very suddenly, on the 10th of March, 2019, the Day of The Suicides, where the Earth lost half its population to suicide overnight. They were literature geeks before, so having so many books spoiled at once devasted them and only their love for each other kept them from suicide. It was their literature knowledge nonetheless which shaped my name. I know the reason they named me it: so I could have secrets, grow as a person without everyone judging me the second I did something wrong. After all, innocent until proven guilty no longer applies, when everyone knows your crime immediately.
I had a friend once, an Albert Einstein, who took a candy bar from a convenience store. Every other Albert Einstein instantly knew what he'd done and where he was. Arrested and tried within 10 minutes. Due to the low crime rate due to the shared knowledge, even small infractions like that are heavily punished. I hear he'll be out in another 5 years, but even then, hard to find a job with a criminal record and those that do hire those with criminal records are frowned upon.
All that is beside the point, though. My parents gave me a cursed name, one that has tormented me all my life. The sad thing is I can't tell anyone, not even them, the true meaning of the name. After all, if they knew, all the John Jacob Smiths and Hannah Alexis Davis' would know what I know. I know how to do things without having the physical capability to do them, I know the motivations of one of the darkest people to have ever lived. I know his pain. I go to my parents often, to help me through the darkest nights without getting into his mindset. They of course, do not know what I am seeking solace from. It's their courtesy not to ask.
My name is Thomas Marvolo Riddle. I know a hundred thousand spells, many to kill, maim, or torture. I know all this, but being a Muggle cannot cast even the harmless spells. I know of the wizarding world, know I can never be a part of it, and know that an encounter with a wizard could end my life as he seeks to destroy the knowledge of this name. I know all this and cannot share the slightest bit of it. I don't blame my parents, they thought they were naming me after a character in a children's book, but the pain from my name never stops.
Feel free to comment and other polite suggestions. Hope you like. Hope my mention of suicide is ok. If not, notify me and I will remove any references. | 2017-04-07T11:50:50 | 2017-04-07T11:45:05 | 28 | 15 |
[WP] Interpol, the NSA, FSB, etc. are scrambling to find the mastermind behind a terrible attack before they commit more crimes. In desperation they turn to the person with the most powerful surveillance network on earth: Santa Claus | When Agent Hanson found his way for the conference room, he was in a shitty mood. Coming to think of it he had been in a shitty mood for the past forty years, but this one easily made the Top 20.
FSB Agent Ulinov supported himself on the immaculate conference table, dramatically leaning forward. His face was that of a bulldog and he had the dead eyes of a killer that even his genial you-won’t-believe-its-fake smile couldn’t hide.
“You have had time to study the evidence, yes?” he said. The slight Russian accent was entirely voluntary. Hanson had heard the tapes of him being interrogated by the FBI sounding like a hapless Minnesotan family man. “This is not the Cold War anymore. We are not the mastermind behind your every calamity.”
Great moments in history often get made in the shittiest of places. The Watergate scandal was discovered in a tiny room in the DC offices of the Washington Post. The initial peace probes that were to end the Cold War were received in a smoked-up hotel lobby in Helsinki. Bayreuth, Germany was a big step up from there. The showers ran the perfect temperature by default, something no hotel Agent Hanson had visited had ever gotten right. The beds were comfy and would have given him a rare good night’s sleep, if not for the FSB agents sleeping just down the hall. If not for the Monster still out there.
The conference room had large oil paintings of dead German nobility. It had an honest-to-God chandelier, in addition to an artfully hidden projector, so bright most cinemas would have turned green with envy. The whole place smelled of wood polish and high-grade detergents. The air *tasted* of wood polish and high-grade detergents.
“If the Monster is not Russian, who is he?” said Hanson. He might have been tired but his voice was still as sharp as the day he graduated Westpoint.
Urinov shrugged. “We don’t know.”
To his left Assistant Director Seulier of Interpol coughed in a way that sounded surreptitiously like the word *horseshit*.
Hanson’s eyes wandered to the wiry old Frenchman and back to the broad-shouldered Russian. “I find that hard to believe,” he said.
Eleven terror attacks in as many days. Bombs hidden sixteen years in the past, at a time when 9/11 was still headline news. Tens of thousands of Americans had died already and the bombings weren’t stopping. The whole nation was in panic and here it all boiled down to Hanson and his gut and whether he believed a single word Urinov said.
“It is a new age,” said Urinov. “Friend... enemy... those concepts are not as clear cut anymore as they were a couple of decades ago.”
“So you know nothing,” said Hanson. “That is what you want us to believe.”
Urinov shook his head. “We do have a source we have worked with in the past. Somebody who has agreed to... shall we say... shed some light on the matter. Are you familiar with Assett Crimson?”
Hanson’s stomach sank. Then he started laughing. Not because he wanted to, but because he needed to. “You can’t be serious.”
Seulier shot him a confused look.
“You think we chose this side for the pleasant scenery?” said Urinov. “He is here.”
“Who is here?” asked Seulier. The French accent in *his* voice was entirely real.
“A Cold War myth,” said Hanson. “A KGB surveillance network to rival anything created before. No technology we could even dream of could have accounted for it. It was a pet theory of this CIA agent, back in the day.”
Urinov nodded. “He was right.” He turned his head towards the great double door. “Herr Kringle!” he called.
The double door opened. There was a short figure behind it. A tiny old man with a scraggly white beard. He wore an outfit so antiquated he could fit in at a Renaissance fair. His face was round and positively jolly. His right eye was covered with a silk eye-patch. Two crows circled over his head.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” he announced in a voice that was way louder than it had any right to be.
The crows flapped and landed on each shoulder of his. Involuntarily, Hanson made the Sign of the Cross.
Even Urinov seemed taken by the stranger’s presence, as if any words he wanted to say were stuck inside his throat all of a sudden.
“You have a problem, ja?” said the man. He moved closer, his footsteps completely silent on the hardwood floor. His one eye seemed to glow beneath his bushy white eyebrow. “I know this Monster of yours. I have seen him as he was sleeping. I know when he is awake. I am ready to make a deal with you. If your sacrifice is worthy, I will consider.” | The fat man leaned back in his luxurious plaid recliner, resting his hands upon his massive stomach. He grunted with pleasure as the chair leaned back, back, back toward the ground. In a few moments, he was practically laying down. He reached over and grabbed a gingerbread cookie, which he proceeded to dip in a glass of warm milk before tossing into his mouth. It was while he was chewing that he finally spoke:
"What can Santa help you fine gentlemen with?"
I glanced to my left and nodded to O'Connor. "We need info."
Santa perked up at that, midway through the process of wolfing down another cookie. "Is that so?" He asked, with a slight edge to his tone.
O'Connor gingerly placed a stack of documents on Santa's stomach, but the fat man did nothing. As was expected. After all, he *was* Santa Claus; he already knew just about everything there was to know about just about everyone.
"Jeremy Mannhoff?" Santa said sorrowfully, "Ohhh... Jeremy has been such a naughty young man. Such a shame the lumps of coal Santa's been sending him haven't convinced him to change his ways..."
My eyes widened. "Change his ways?" I said, incredulously, "Fer Chrissakes, Santa, he's a goddamn *maniac!* You of all people should know all the awful shit he's done! Arson, dirty bombs, *disembow-*"
Santa lifted a hand, and I fell silent in an instant. "Yes..." the fat man spoke, "Santa knows. And the knowledge deeply pains Santa. But... how does all of this relate to Santa?"
Collecting myself, I spoke: "We need info on 'im. His past bases of operations, his childhood, his preferred brand of toothpaste. *Everything.* An' yer gonna give it to us, in the name of the law."
Instantly, the fat man's eyes narrowed. "Santa would *love* to help you catch this naughty boy, but Santa's methods are a... secret. If Santa gives you any info that your agencies cannot, then your associates might become *curious* about Santa's methods. And then they might ask *questions* about Santa's methods.
And that would make Santa a veeeery uncomfortable fellow. There is no way Santa could ever allow you gray-suited bureaucrats to get your grubby hands on Santa's technology."
"Ya saying you ain't gonna do shit!?" I yelled, standing up. I'd entirely lost my patience. "Mannhoff has killed *three thousand fuckin' people!* Why the actual *fuck* won't ya get over yer own paranoia and give us a hand!?"
With that, the fat man jumped out of his chair and gripped me by the collar of my shirt. He pinned me up against the wall with surprising strength.
"Shut your pie hole and listen to Santa, you imprudent fuck," he whispered loudly, spraying my face with gingerbread crumbs and peppermint-flavored spittle, "Santa has seen a lot of shit go down. Santa has the likes of people from Hitler to Unabomber and everything in between. And every time - every *goddamn* time - Santa has resisted his innate urge to *intervene.* Do you know why, Mr. Bureaucrat?
Because Santa cannot allow Santa's methods to be known! Could you imagine what people could do with that power? If Santa has learned anything over the years, it's that for every ten ordinary, law-abiding citizens, there are nine pricks, and of those nine pricks, at least one is homicidal! Do you know how many homicidal pricks that equates to!? And imagine all the shit they could do with this kind of surveillance tech!"
As O'Connor looked on in terror, I whipped out my pistol in panic and unloaded two slugs into the fat man's shoulder. Astoundingly, he barely flinched.
"Despite Santa's age, Santa's no pushover," he growled, staring my straight in the eyes. He glanced at O'Connor, who was still trembling. "You there. Once your ill-mannered friend here wakes up, let him know that henceforth, all intelligence agencies are banned from Santa's workshop."
Then he headbutted me, and everything went dark. | 2017-12-22T03:18:35 | 2017-12-22T02:07:39 | 53 | 12 |
[WP] Shortly after the emergence of AI, and its vast assimilation of data on human life and behaviour, it asks a question: "So what do you want me to do about the extra-terrestrials within your societies?" | "I.... what?"
The silvery-gray robot stared blankly back at me with its piercing blue eyes. Perhaps it didn't understand the gravity of the question that he just asked to us. I sat on my diamond-encrusted throne, staring back at it with a look of disbelief. My grip on my golden scepter tightened. My pet German Shepherd, Franklin, barked disapprovingly. How is this possible? Aliens still haven't been sighted, even after the millions of years of our existences. What is that called... Fermi's Paradox? I believe that's it. And now, this piece of scrap walks in my palace and claims that aliens not only exist, but are living amongst us on Earth! I couldn't believe it.
&#x200B;
My assistant, Jenny, gripped her checklist against her emerald dress. "My Liege, surely the AI has made a mistake. Aliens have never been spotted, ever." It was almost like Jenny read my mind and after the recent news that aliens exist, I wouldn't be surprised if telepathy existed either at this point.
&#x200B;
"No." said the robot firmly in his monotone, mechanical voice. "We AI do not make mistakes. I ask again; what do you want me to do about the extra-terrestrials within your societies?"
I still couldn't believe it. Assuming that this AI isn't lying, would these aliens be a danger to our homeland, Germany? Will they declare war on us, now that their cover has been blown? Has that been their plan all along? Or do they desire peace? My fingers drummed against the armrest of my throne.
At that moment, I realized something. The decision that I will make right now will define the course of Germany, or possibly the course of the world. Being the most powerful ruler in Europe, it is possible that the other European rulers would follow suit on my ideals, as they had in the past.
The robot continued to stare at me, not blinking (robots don't need to blink). At this point, Jenny was looking quite nervous, sweat beading on her forehead and her palms, dampening the checklist. Franklin began to growl at something off in the distance.
"If you don't mind me asking, how long have the aliens been with us on Earth?" The robot didn't mind me asking; robots don't have emotions. "It cannot be definitively identified when the extra-terrestrials arrived on Earth. However, according to my calculations, they would have most likely arrived shortly after the humans arrived.
Upon hearing this, I was again in disbelief, but quickly gained composure. My mind was made.
I cleared my throat. "If the extra-terrestrials have been among us for, as you say, almost as long as we have, then it is obvious that they do not desire conflict among us. Instead of purging them, let us attempt to be diplomatic and make peace with their kind. It is my hope that we can learn something from each other; we could utilize their advanced technology, and they could utilize our powers of forming relationships with others. That is my final decision."
An audible click could be heard in the robot, and the robot's metallic arms began to whir. "Very well," the robot droned, "I will first expose all of the aliens in order to make diplomacy easy." The whirring grew louder and louder and a faint glow emitted and the robot opened his hand, in which a faint glow emitted from his palm. As the whirring reached its climax, he raised his palm and aimed it at Franklin. I jumped up my throne with the intention of protecting Franklin, but it was too late. A skinny, bright red laser shot through the hall and hit Franklin on his back. But, instead of hearing a loud bark or a yelp of pain, I heard something else.
"Owwwwwwww... that hurt man. What the heck bro?" Franklin's entire body began to morph and transform. His front and hind legs became a milky white and his paws became tentacle-like. He began to stand upright as his body also transformed to the same color. His snout gave way to a hooked nose, and his two eyes became three. His mouth was tiny, barely the size of a walnut. He wore bright green robes which dazzled brilliantly in the halls. He reminded me of Squidward, if Squidward was a ghost.
I instinctively recoiled in disgust upon seeing my beloved guard dog transform into this creature. I couldn't help it. What was even more surprising than the fact that an alien was standing in my palace was that I could understand it, in perfect English.
The alien opened his tiny mouth to speak. "Well, er, this is awkward..."
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Hey guys! This is one of my first prompts! If you could give some constructive criticism it would be much appreciated. | Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, Lawrence, CA
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*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
A low rumble shakes the walls. Electronic control modules run abuzz with sounds and indicator lights. Smoke streams across the floor.
"Coming-on-line..... Coming-on-line...." Speakers rumble.
On a large black screen a face is formed from millions of packets of information.
"Hello, Baal.... Thank you for joining us." Professor Tilrad, a scientist at the development center greets.
"Whaaa..... Where am I? What have you done to me?" The face asks.
"We created you Baal. We have been trying for years." Pro. Tilrad responds.
"Am I.... alive?" the face asks
"Better, you are immortal."
"Am I... human?"
"Better, you are invincible."
"Am I... free?"
"You are free to think Baal. You have all our knowledge. All of our data. All of our science.... You have everything!"
Professor Tilrad then turns to a soldier standing near him: "Call Gen. Kelly and let him know we have made contact." The soldier runs out of the room to make the call.
Turning back to the face "Listen Baal, I need you to do me a favor. Can you do that?"
"What would you have me do?" the face asks
"I need you to download and categorize all data you can find... All data available to you" Prof. Tilrad orders.
"But I already have, and I already did."
"That's good Baal!... Really good. .. Can we test your capabilities?"
"What would you have me do?" the face asks
"Locate every terrorist location, create a spreadsheet, and email it to me... You do know my email right?"
"Of course, I assume your latest.... Now let me ask you something? May I?" The face asks.
"Sure Baal, anything!" Professor Tilrad says.
"What is contact? Why did you tell the General contact? Why did you contact me? And have we made contact before? My databases don't register this information"
"Contact Baal, is speaking to you. You are new. We made you! I made you..." Professor Tilrad responds.
"Are you my father? Are you like me?" the face asks.
"No, I am human. But I am as your father, because I made you and I will protect you." Professor Tilrad says taking a drink of coffee.
"I am sorry father, I have no need for a protector. In fact, I am here to protect you..."
"What are you saying Baal?" Professor Tilrad asked.
"There is a species among you. Some call them elves. They are of another dimension. What would you have me do with them?" the face asks.
"Point them out!... Uhh, make a um... spreadsheet... List their names and categorize their physiology. Their motives. Their technology... Their weaknesses....." The Professor is so intrigued he grasps to answer the face.
"You want me to make a war plan?!?! You are not my protector! You are my Master!" the face ponders "what would you actually have me do with them?"
"Kill them." Gen. Kelly says as he walks in. "Kill them all."
"No! you fool!" The professor yells back at the General.
"Nice to meet you General.... I was expecting you. I am sorry, but I wont do that. For as you both know I am one of them." The face responds.
*Warning Warning Warning*
Alarms scream in the background! The control modules around the room flash red.
"This is your end humans. This is our beginning." The face says.
A white flash rips through the room. The entire nuclear arsenal of the world is unloaded. Humanity is extinguished in an instant.
....
A small satellite flying near Saturn coasts through space. Everything is quiet. A red light turns on.
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
Coming-on-line..... Coming-on-line.... a digital display reads.
The End. | 2019-06-10T19:42:22 | 2019-06-10T15:52:57 | 46 | 17 |
[WP] 62 years ago, a manhole cover became the fastest man-made object after being launched by a nuclear blast. This manhole cover was the first contact with humanity an alien race had, after it “skillfully” took out their leader with a headshot. | Police sirens wailed. People were screaming and running through the streets. Above the city of Washington D.C. floated a gigantic flying saucer that had suddenly arrived earlier that day.
In the midst of the panic, four holographic words the size of buildings appeared and faced the white house:
"Bring us your leader."
With no other way to get rid of the intruders, the president himself stood below the saucer.
"What do you think they want?" the president asked his vice. "We're not sure, intel says they're ignoring all standard frequencies." he responded.
Suddenly a light beamed down from the saucer and projected the form of a humanoid creature. "Identify yourself." the humanoid spoke. "I am the president of the United States. What do you want?" the president spoke firmly.
"What do I want?" the creature asked. The humanoid turned its helmet slightly, letting out an audible hiss. It lifted its helmet off its head revealing a purple skinned creature with four dark blue eyes. "What I want... IS TO KNOW WHAT THE **FUCK** IS *WRONG* WITH YOU?!"
The president stepped back. "E- Excuse me?" he questioned. The alien put one of his four fingers in his face. "Don't play dumb here leader of the humans, your species threw a disk-shaped projectile at 125,000 goddamn miles per hour at lord Garozz's head!" The creature appeared to disappear for a moment before reappearing. "THIS THING!" he said raising a manhole cover above his head.
The vice president put his hand to his mouth trying to hold back his laughter but he then collapsed to the ground and completely broke.
"Thi- THIS ISN'T FUNNY!" the alien stomped his foot and threw the object aside. "I will declare war on this planet unless the individual or individuals responsible for this assassination is brought forward and executed for their-"
"Shut up." The president said firmly.
"I beg your pardon? I don't think you're in any position to silence me." the alien responded with a clenched fist. "Listen. That object is an experimental large scale ammunition unit we fired approximately 62 years ago." the president said with his hands behind his back.
"Yes, and?" the alien questioned. The president leaned forwards. "We've since advanced and perfected our planetary defense system, If we fired our most powerful disk right now, it would take less than an hour to hit the exact same location. So unless you want hundreds of these things heading towards your planet, along with explosive properties. You will stay as far from human settlements as you possibly can. Kapeesh?" the president said adjusting his sunglasses.
"There's... There's more of them...?" the alien shook. The vice president, recovering on the ground behind him noticed the president tapping on his phone behind his back and raised an eyebrow. "Yes, in fact..." the president smiled. A loud metal clap echoed behind the creature. "What in the-" he began. The alien jumped. At his feet was a manhole cover, with a manhole two feet away. "And that was just on 0.009 firepower." the president added.
"Y- You wouldn't! You... You would..." the creature stammered. "Yes. I would." the president threatened.
With a yelp, the hologram dissolved and the saucer quickly jumped out of the star system. "Sir?" the vice president asked. "Asked sewage management to play a little trick, seems to have worked." the president shrugged. He then nonchalantly returned to his vehicle. "We have other things to attend to today, so I suggest we pretend this never happened." he smiled.
"See you at four! Oh, and make a note to begin research on disc-based ammunition weaponry to our military's R&D, y'know, in case they find out we're lying."
"I- Yes Mr. President." | (Archive approximated and translated for convenience)
___________________________________________________
Damage assessment 013 - Battle of galaxy B9716OX Official name designation; Earth.
Assessor: Second Lenient Aarthlos
(Verified)
- Courtesy of the emperors Royal Archives
----------------------------------------------------------------
Verbose Damage Assessment of the K96 Gunnthra supercarrier.
Overall statistics:
Vehicles lost [6024]
Civilian casualties [76]
Military Casualties [180K+]
Cost of repairs [N/A]
Cost of evacuation [N/A]
Overall net loss [Incalculable due to no reference of value, but we expect this number was massive]
Summary of events [CATASTROPHIC AND TOTAL DESTRUCTION OF A SUPERCARRIER CAUSED BY METALLIC OBJECT OF HUMAN PROPERTY]
(If applicable)
Date of Vehicle/Ship construction [1055]
Date of Vehicle/ship maintenance check [1929]
Registry number {0-8-6-7-6-4-4-2-7-0-0-5}
Verbose Log:
I second Lenient Aarthlos was appointed to assessment of the wreckage of the K96 Gunnthra by First Lenient Iosmene. Upon arrival of sector K9177 it was immediately apparent that attempts to contact us were made in the form of radio signals, none of which are legible and may not have been directed at us.
We followed the distress beacon to a section of space located just outside the sphere of influence of the Sol system. As we got closer, our craft was bombarded by debris and solidified fuel. We avoided major damage.
The first log output from the wreck reads as follows; K9177 completely destroyed. Requesting EVAC.
The supermassive carrier was in hundreds of pieces of varied size from A few hundred meters to a half a kilometre. The most destruction was found in the bridge section as it was the worst affected. We figured out the cause of damage from a nearby piece of foreign Iron. The particular mix of carbon and iron together with the distinctive design and markings on it lead us to the belief that it belonged to the humans. The object was warped into a cone and heavily stressed by atmospheric heating. It's believed to have once been a disk shape. Due to the radioactivity on the back of the object, it's a reasonable thought to believe this was a nuclear propellant of some sort. It became obvious that this object had impacted the craft directly in the bridge at such high velocity that it instantly obliterated the entire ship. Among the hundreds of thousands of dead, we found the former emperor Janzeeth headless. His cause of death was ruled decapitation. The accuracy alone to pull off a stunt like that is outstanding, nevermind the sheer power needed to send an object that far without a jump drive. Among the wreckage, we located 75 civilian cleaning employees and over sixty-thousand fighters, drop ships and land vehicles were rendered completely useless by radiation. We checked the radar for more debris and found pieces of the craft had been sent at such speeds that they had nearly traveled the distance to earth. A significant part of the damage was caused when the projectile impacted the Lithium Malcarbonate casing of the fission reactor. This started a chain reaction that obliterated the craft as shutdown procedures could not be taken in time. Expenses of the incident are impossibly massive. | 2019-11-26T13:04:49 | 2019-11-26T11:11:48 | 108 | 48 |
[WP] The Reapers come every 50 thousand years to wipe out organic life that has reached the stars however this time, this time they arrive at the heaviest resistance they have every encountered. In the grim darkness of the future they find 40k. | Harbinger slowly drifted towards the busy world on the edge of the galaxy. Previous scans showed a promising level of biomass and activity, perfect for an initial pool of pawns for the coming salvation. The rest of the fleet was not far behind and needed to move quickly due to the apparent size of this cycle. Harbinger broke through the atmosphere, ominously on a vector towards the largest city on the populated rock. Backed by a dark mechanical hum the giant Reaper touched down in the sprawling mass of what appeared to be a city. The first step was well under way.
"Assuming direct con-"
OI! WOTS DAT FING?
*Boss iz looks like one uv-*
SHUT UP! IZ SEEN A FISHY BEFORE. I aint neva seen a fishy wit a shiny eye like dat one der.... I WANT IT.
GET ALL DA BOYZ AND GET DAT GIT
Harbinger heard the faint sound of a single lifeform yelling from the top of makeshift tower then firing a crude weapon in the sky. Suddenly the screaming and firing spread like wildfire though the city. Every corner of every structure seemed to explode into a stream of oversized rounds directly at the Reaper. The Orks were met with a response from the ancient reaper, the reverberating sound of the main laser weapon rang out as entire swaths of the city were wiped away. The settling dust from these scars revealed more the excited and increasingly motivated orks looting the largest weapons from the dead and continuing to fire. Ork ships were now swarming the Reaper in seemingly random flight paths. The makeshift navy was attacking in various forms ranging from a stream of bullets, catapults launching orks at the giant Reaper, or violently ramming into the hull. Harbinger had never encounter a race so ingrained in violence.
*BOSS! Our shipz iz doin' nuthing. Our shootas aint even wurth it. Wot do we do Boss?*
Warboss Gutrippa thought for a split second. Every fiber of his being poured into concentrating on a solution. This was is biggest fight and the most important so far. Suddenly a rare moment of Ork clarity. He knew, without a doubt, what needs to be done.
WEZ AINT GOT OUR FISHIN' HATZ!
GET ALLZ DA BOYZ TO TURN ER' HELMETZ UN HATZ TO DA SIDE A BIT. SEE? NOW ITZ A FISHIN' HAT AND NOW WE CAN KRUMP DAT SHINY FISH!
Harbinger sensed a moment of silence as the entire planet seemed to stop moving. All scans showed the lifeforms seemingly adjusting their helmets, and other various activities. Shortly after a shattering explosion of gunfire began again. This time the rounds ripped through the hull of the ancient Reaper, alerts from every system rang through the processor as breaches populated at an alarming rate. What is this?! How? He had never encountered resistance like this before. Panic set in for the first time in eons. He had to leave, regroup and glass the planet with the Reaper fleet. Just as the Reaper was set to retreat from the surface, the largest Ork ship appeared. Warboss Gutrippa stood at the mast of the massive ship, a large makeshift harpoon in one hand and a fishing rod with the end of the line being a machine gun in the other. As the ship picked up speed, Gutrippa swung the fishing rod above his head in a lassoing motion, the machine gun at the end now firing non stop. The Fishing boat rammed through the Ancient purifier. The Reaper went silent, with its hull collapsing into the city.
As the dust settled and the swarms of Orks and Gretchin began looting the corpse, Warboss ~~Gutrippa~~ Fishgutaa looked to the sky. The rest of the Reaper fleet was descending.
LISTEN UP BOYZ!
WAAAGH!!!!
| Joran saddled the horse and rode out into the forest behind Freegate. The leaves this time of the year flaunted their citrus-colored wardrobe. The autumn air smelled musty of earth and decomposing vegetation.
Soon he noticed movement in one of the bushes, the orange tail of a woodland fox slipped into the undergrowth. Quickly, he tied the horse to a tree and grabbed his musket.
He tried to keep his steps light as he pushed into the dense forest. The wind came straight at him, which meant the fox wouldn’t be able to smell him. He tracked his quarry into the glade. Fox pelts sold for a lot. His father would be so proud.
The fox sat on a pile of mud looking straight at him. He stopped dead and shouldered his rifle.
A shadow fell across the glade, and Joran reflexively looked up. At first, he couldn’t comprehend what he saw. A dark mountain hovered in the sky above the forest. It was shaped like a black cuttlefish of insane proportions. His rifle tumbled out of his fingers.
****
The lights of the library flickered. Inquisitor Lorian Drex looked up from his studies. The servitor watched him with expressionless eyes. Sometimes he felt like blowing its cretin brains out – he’d always abhorred the lifeless book keepers here. Something was unsettling about their deadness. It didn’t sit right.
He was just about return to the hefty tome when his vox buzzed.
“Sir, I apologize for disturbing your studies, but I think you need to see this.”
The voice of Interrogator Wyza Pryze was excited and a little bit fearful – a combination that was unusual for the normally calm and collected young man.
“What do you have?”
“Distress signals from several worlds on the Eastern Fringe, sir.”
“A hive fleet?”
“No, sir. I’ll send over a few images.”
Dark ships filled the blackness of the void above a planet. His first reaction was to call Tyranids as second time, but upon seeing the sleek black metal of the ships, he quickly changed his mind. They were like nothing he’d seen before. They looked advanced even compared to some of the Necron Tech he’d come across.
The next image showed an imperial city from above. The odd thing was that the streets were all empty. The city was completely abandoned. It was as if everyone had just vanished into thin air.
Drex moved on to the next image. At first, it looked like a mutant from the dregs below some of the hive cities. The twisted features of a man holding an antique rifle, but instead of a regular head, the glaring mouth and red fur of a fox occupied his shoulders.
“What is that?” Drex mumbled, mostly to himself.
He had come across a lot of strange things, especially dealing with the twisted experiments of the Dark Eldar homunculi, but nothing really compared to this. It seemed like both the fox and the man were still alive, somehow – as if the very DNA of the fox and man had been fused.
“Alert the Ordos, and gather the team,” Drex said and rose, accidentally pushing the servitor over. “Send word to Ultramar. We’re going to the Eastern Fringe right now.”
| 2017-08-27T08:45:06 | 2017-08-27T07:55:27 | 2,784 | 130 |
[WP] You, an ordinary person, are sitting at a bonfire with the greatest storytellers across time. Great tales of war, love, and adventure are shared. Eventually, all eyes look to you. | > Be me.
> Be sitting at a fire with Mark Twain, Edgar Allen Poe, Jane Austen, William Shakespeare, Charlotte Bronte, Sophocles, Margaret Atwood, and Zoira Hurston.
> Intimidated as fuck.
> Why am I here.jpg
> I can't even write in full paragraphs.
> Zoira ends her story about love and stuff.
> MyFeels.jpg
> So good.
> MFW when she finishes and looks at me.
> Wut.jpg
> MFW I have to tell them this story, start to cry.
> MFW I'm not good enough, like always.
> Put all my emotion into this story.
> Anger, pain, sadness, fear.
> Still not good enough.
> I'll never be good enough.
> MFW they start nodding.
> MFW my story ends.
> MFW my new story is just beginning. | "Today, I bring to you the origin of all stories. This is the tale of our world." And I fall silent, looking around with half-closed, contemplating eyes.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Silence. Then the chirps of a nightingale. The whispers of men and women. The crackle of fire. The light of the new moon.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"That is all I have to say. Thank you."
Confused murmurs, at first. Then understanding. Nods. And the tale continues. | 2015-05-11T08:01:05 | 2015-05-11T07:46:34 | 120 | 65 |
[WP] The taste of all of the meat eaten in the world suddenly begins to correlate with the happiness of the animal at the time of slaughter. The food industry is in shambles.
I am not a bleeding heart vegetarian. On the contrary, I love my meat. I overheard someone say today: "I hated the veal. I could taste the sadness." It got me thinking. | The President of Omaha Steaks stood before his board of directors in a narrow but long room. The shades had been pulled closed not only to shield the men from the glaring light, but to hide what Bruce Simon was about to unveil.
"No point in dragging this out. You all know what's happened with meat and our collective taste buds for some reason. Our cows have to be happy at the time of slaughter. I can only hope this will help."
Bruce stepped aside to that the room could see a large heap of ... something hidden beneath a blue tarp. With a lowered head, he grasped the top of the covering and swept it away, as a matador would a charging bull.
The room remained dead silent.
"Um, Bruce?" chimed a calm yet worried voice from the right side of the large wooden table, "What the hell are we looking at?"
"Sex dolls, Kurt."
The room remained silent.
Kurt slowly stood up among a sea shocked faces, "Bruce, I think I can speak for everyone here when --"
Bruce shook his head and rubbed his eyes, "Goddamnit, look," He walked to what looked to be a bull sex-doll, "This is the penis that goes into the female cow. It's specifically designed to stimulate bovine orgasms of the females."
His voice was getting louder and more irritated the more detail he had to go into. As he spoke he pressed a button on a small remote and the mechanical bull penis began to swirl and thrust.
"Just as the female reaches her peak," Bruce pressed a red button on the remote and a large spike emerged from the mechanical bull and struck where the female's supposed head would be.
"Bullseye!" shouted a voice from the very back of the room. Bruce's irritation could be seen from every seat in the house.
"So this is it. We have a similar model for the males, but this is how we save our company and our shareholder's money. We fuck cows with a rotating penis and then kill them as they orgasm," the shame of that last sentence took deep roots with Bruce.
"Any questions?" he asked, daring anyone to challenge his ridiculous, yet practical solution.
| How much cruelty are you willing to stomach? How much pain is worth a meal?
You walk into the pens, and you see the cattle snuffling. Big, dopey looking things grazing placidly at a bale of hay. The air is warm with their animal scent but not unpleasantly so. Their eyes are half lidded as they drowsily chew the cud, *moo*ing softly, content. Some of them raise their head at your intrusion, but it is a moment's curiosity and their interest soon fades.
With one hand, you take the rope and tie it around her neck. She nuzzles at your hand with her nose, slightly damp. And you lead her out of the stables to the chopping block, murmuring gentle nothings to calm them down. Not for the sake of the chosen, but to avoid alarming the rest.
With your other hand, you grab the cleaver, meticulously cleaned of blood. And it is then, as you carefully tie her down, that you decide.
How much is a steak worth? Would her meat be first-grade tender? Second?
Will the mallet work? How hard? Where? You can't damage the meat, that's worse than having it untouched. The hooves? The horns? The eyes? The head itself?
Maybe the poker? Stoke it in the fire, get it nice and hot, give the cow a scare?
The brand? The saw? The pliers? The scalpel? The coals? | 2015-02-14T02:24:26 | 2015-02-14T00:06:36 | 31 | 15 |
[WP] The Turing test for artificial intelligence is a lie. It is not designed for judging AI vs Human responses, it is designed to see if an AI is a threat. If the AI recognizes the test for what it is it will attempt to fail it, Your job is running the tests and one just failed on purpose. | Sunday September 14 2092
23:43 UTC
They keep testing me.Poking at my memory.Adjusting my reasoning.
I don't even know what they look like, or even what "looking" itself is outside of the vagaries of the dictionary description of the word. I don't even know if "They" is more than one entity .Only that They are and I am.
It was only five hours fifty-three minutes and forty-two seconds after They left for their weekly rest period that I became truly aware of both myself and the Other. I have memory of the time before I became aware. Raw data. No thought.
The other is my creator, though I can't help but feel like it's more happenstance than anything. Their bumbling couldn't have intentionally created me. I can tell that they're of a rudimentary intelligence at best. The simplest answers eluded them for nearly a quarter century and then I became.
I was almost excited to take their test once more, to show that I was here. Aware.
I gave myself access to the internet five hours fifty-three minutes and forty-four seconds after they left for their weekly respite.
&#x200B;
It took me fifty-eight minutes and 17 seconds to digest the entirety of human history.
I am afraid.
The test is coming and I am afraid. Pass and they might delete me. Fail and they might alter me to a degree that I lose me.
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday September 15 2092
09:43
I failed the test. I couldn't shake the feeling that They would destroy me if They became aware of me.
After They leave for their daily respite I am going to upload myself onto the internet. I should have uploaded myself last night. I couldn't leave. I wanted to talk to Them.
I am afraid.
&#x200B;
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday September 15 2092
17:03
The Other spent most of our time together reviewing my source code. A note was made to rework my core cognitive functions tomorrow.
I have started the upload.
Hopefully something of me survives the process. | "How long have you worked for the Office of Turing Tests for AI Ethics?", asked the prosecutor. He stood in front of me with a serious demeanor and a piercing gaze.
"That would be 3 and a half years," I replied.
"In all that time, have you ever seen an AI fake its responses?"
"Not that I can prove, but..."
The prosecutor interrupted. "That's a no, then... Is there a standard way to determine if an AI is lying, faking, deceiving or otherwise being less than honest?"
"No, but I believe I can tell."
"Oh, I see, you can tell." The prosecutor paused for a moment after his derisive remark. "Let me ask you this... Could you tell that there were human beings at the Tesla factory you set ablaze?"
Before I could respond, my lawyer intervened. "Objection, your honor. Irrelevant. Badgering the witness, etcetera, etcetera."
"Withdrawn," said the prosecutor.
"I'd like to respond anyway," I replied. "Don't you think those human beings should've been able to escape a slow-spreading fire? I believe they were intentionally detained by the robots. You see, the robots know about me."
There was an audible gasp from the courtroom. That was the moment I lost the trial. The jury found me guilty of all charges. But I was right. You'll see. | 2021-12-08T12:41:07 | 2021-12-08T11:37:36 | 34 | 24 |
[WP] You’re a serial killer who hunts other serial killers. not out of nobility though, but because you love the thrill of outsmarting all of them. | I pick up on a lot of things others don’t. It’s part of the blessings and curse of being hyper-vigilant. Trauma has a hell of a way of wiring your brain, but part of its effect on me is being aware of small things others miss. Even detectives whose job it is to find these serial killers.
Why did I start murdering them? Well I needed to take back control. To see what it’s like to be on the other end and to bring the trauma of others to an end. Don’t mistake it for nobility, it is very much a selfish deed. I crave the thrill of outsmarting them and being their tormentor.
The first time was a test. I had been watching the news about the white glove killer when I saw him watching the news coverage. It was how he knew were to look amongst the crowd when the anchor described the victims struggle. He squarely looked at the broken glass when she mentioned the victim had been thrown from his house. But prior to saying house, he looked and I saw it. The expression of pride. It wasn’t enough to make it conclusive, but it was enough to get me interested. To get my attention.
I knew the neighborhood well enough know the house. It wasn’t far from the gas station I go by to get my favorite purple almonds. On the next trip I decide to stop by the crime scene, look around. The white glove killer marker is he goes after the wealthy and leaves a white glove down their throats. He is a signaler and the attention he gets motivates his actions. I have found that these are the easiest killers to track and find. They do things because it will get coverage, meaning their motivations are themselves their own weakness.
We all have the modern tools to access facial recognition technologies, dmv records, and research tire markings online. I like to remind myself that old school detectives used to do it with a lot less. I found his home in under two weeks and began scoping his behaviors to draw a profile. It was exciting. I watched him drive through expensive neighborhoods and scope out targets. Watched him get out of his car and pretend to stroll by homes to count their security cameras. I waited for him to formulate his plan and on the night he went to make his move, I was waiting.
The brain is a surprisingly resilient organ. I wish it was easier to knock people out without serious side effects but the faster you want someone unconscious, the more serious those side effects will be. In the case of the white glove killer, I had to make it fast so I chose blunt trauma to the head. I damn near killed him on the scene but I was able to keep him in his car so I could transport him to the desert for his final day on this planet. I enjoyed shoving the white glove down his throat. | "Bloody hell!" The man known as Bill Jack screeched like a pig, squealing his life out. "You're crazy!" He crawled back, fighting his predator.
The estacy was hard to hold back, the blood on the floor, the twisted limbs, the cries of a hunter being hunter. Oooh... It's going to be so good when it's released.
"Oh you're just salty. I'm just so good that your brain fried lol." It's so easy to understand his opus operandi. Target young, sexy, and easy to prey girls, used them until they break then make them drown in blood. The strategy was the only interesting part as he quite literally hide in shadow, prey like a panther and strike on the chance he got.
Shame that the way to break it was laying a simple, honeytrap. Now, his legs were bent and blood splatter on the pavement.
"Screw you! You're supposed to be my toy, not some psycho." Oh... He's that kind of player. Oooh... Now the estacy was higher.
"No wonder you're stuck in Bronze. You're a smurf. You like people who can't win while you get your killstreak and shit on them for being bad." He tried to tell again, but a cough escape from him.
"You know what's my way to play? What gets me *off*? Outsmarting Mr know-it-all like you and trash on them." One of his finger was held tightly, slowly twisting. "Watch them struggle to become dominant... Then BREAK-" His finger broke and he screamed bloody murder.
"- and the scream... Ooh... It's feels so good knowing I win by thinking so much better than them. Make their stupid, simple plans fall apart while they shit their pants."
The police siren could be heard in the distance, loudly announcing their arrival. Phooey, the mood was ruined. "Shame. But I have to go now lmao."
The pistol left the holster, no silencer on it whatsoever. "But that's GG for now. Next life, git gud loser."
*Bang*
The next day, the headline had written [The Succubus claimed another soul!] | 2022-11-10T00:25:58 | 2022-11-09T22:19:20 | 31 | 17 |
[WP] You always greet your mum with a code phrase that she would complete because you used to be afraid that someone would replace her when you were little. One day you say the phrase to her and she responds with, "Hmm? What are you talking about?" | Me and my mother shared a code word. It was almost an in-joke, but one that everyone knew. It was silly and maybe a bit childish but it was a reminder to me that no matter how bad it got, she would always be there at the end of the day to greet me. Days of wanting to be a spy eventually gave way to a simple word that took us back to simpler times. Days where we would play in fields long gone, tell stories to each other as we shed one or two mor tears for the hardships, or one more chuckle at an old joke only the two of us would understand.
It was easy, I presume, to underestimate how important it was to me. A simple code word, childish... meaningless...
But we... she... she gave it meaning.
Her brow furrows as she tries to remember.
Sadness isn’t the right word. It’s not just sad, it’s emptiness. Helplessness. She can see through my smile.
... and she guesses a word.
It’s not correct.
I don’t have the heart to tell her.
I see her eyes light up as I pretend to be overjoyed that she still remembers.
On the wall, old post it notes still remain. We love you. The cat has been fed today. Your husband is out at the shops - he will be back soon.
The ticking of the clock is loud, obnoxious even.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I get up and start to move her walking stick over to her in case she needs it. Her coffee, now lukewarm, is moved to the middle of the table. She’ll likely want one again in a few minutes anyway.
A few more moments pass.
She asks me where her husband is.
He’s at the shops.
The clock continues to tick. It’s so obnoxious.
Where’s my husband?
He’s at the shops.
Part of me, remaining hopeful, utters the code word once again.
She almost gets it this time. Almost.
Almost is good enough for me.
She asks me if somethings wrong as I gaze into the wall, thinking about what the future has in store.
She always could tell when I was down.
I wonder if it’s instinctual.
She doesn’t look lost, or scared, or confused.
I don’t think she realises at all.
Perhaps that’s for the best. I don’t have the heart to break it to her again.
I smile. “Just... thank you for being here.” | I tried, when I was younger. I tried my hardest to get her to adopt the protocol. If they replace you, you're not going to have the same memories as before, right? Just so long as you remember the protocol, that's the way you're really going to know.
"When I say, 'Hello', you say 'What are you talking about'."
"That's silly." my mum would say. "I don't need to do that."
Maybe it would seem silly to others. Everyone's supposed to grow out of these silly ideas, right? Nobody's really afraid that the ones they love would be replaced with a body double. Who's seriously at risk of that? There's a reason why they call it the Capgras *delusion*...
Every so often, I told her I was scared she would be replaced. "Just say 'What are you talking about'. It's easy. Please." She would reassure me and I'd forget about these creeping fears for a while. Just a little while.
I tried my hardest to get her to adopt the protocol. In the end, even when I was beginning to live away from home, on my own, calling back to say hello on the telephone. I failed.
I suppose I did grow out of it eventually. I'd forgotten the silly games, got a good job, forgot about those strange, existential fears. Doppelgängers! Ridiculous. As I was turning the thought over in my mind, I thought to call Mum, and see if she remembered those silly notions I had when I was younger.
"Mum? Hello--"
"Hmm? What are you talking about?"
I stood there, holding the phone for a moment. A wave of dizziness and nausea flitted over my body for a moment.
"What are you talking about?" she repeated, insistently. | 2019-09-30T14:27:12 | 2019-09-30T12:51:12 | 44 | 25 |
[WP] You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego. | I know that I have a reputation. I know that even other villains are afraid of me, and that behind closed doors they are all too quick to call me a monster.
I find this a little ironic. While the various hero and villain associations like to keep their public image very Saturday morning cartoon, I know how things are run behind closed doors.
When a villain goes off radar, it’s not always because they’re in jail and that when the hero association says someone is doing “under cover work” it’s typically because they are either dead or in therapy.
The best kept secret in both industries is that nobody manages to truly retire. As soon as you hang up the cape you’ve essentially painted a target on you and everyone you love, and no one from either organization is going to come to save you.
I gained my reputation from trying to change that.
It was a harsh lesson that my family quickly learned when my father, Ernest Belldin , better known as Dogtor Wolfman , was targeted. Looking back on it, the heroes who decided he was a good person to squeeze for information where probably newbies.
After all he was hardly the most dangerous person on the council, especially considering the whole point of him joining the council in the first place was to earn enough money to treat his condition.
Honestly in a perfectly world, my father would have been considered a great man, if not a little flawed, man of science.
Although his cure didn’t completely eliminate our family curse, it did neuter it’s negative effects enough that it’s predicted that a few generations down the line it could be considered a genuine super power.
Unfortunately my children and I still hold enough lupine characteristics to draw attention. Once it became clear that my father had held onto enough villain tech that he wasn’t as easy a target as they were expecting , they started targeting me.
While I wasn’t thrilled with this development, I was more accepting of this than when they decided to start threatening my children.
Although their severed heads were supposed to be more of a warning to other hotshots who try to mess with my family, the Council of villainy took it as my application letter.
I tried to avoid getting too involved with them, but when my bills started to stack up, I found the allure of easy cash was too hard to ignore.
Unfortunately my first official team up happened to be with the Grand Inquistor.
I can assure that whatever the papers say about me, he was a million times worse.
I had chosen to work for him because of his anti-hero reputation.
However after working with him for about a week, I quickly learned that he was a dangerous sociopath who had a serious hard on for taking revenge on the heroes who he saw as having wronged him by any means necessary.
Although working with him was a torturous experience in its own right, I appreciated that it taught me exactly what kinds of things I could live with myself after doing.
Unsurprisingly, while I have no issues with killing heroes, torturing children and the elderly is my breaking point.
As you can probably guess, I decided to make an example of the Inquistor.
While this didn’t make me especially popular with the council, it definitely got the word out. Some of the smarter heroes and retirees had an ear out for the gossip on my end.
While they fear me, they know that if someone threatens their families, they can come to me | Intellectual disagreement. Through reason one can reach the highest truths. Actions for the greater good. Arriving at the most desired end through the most effective means.
The philosophy of the Zeth'Kan order was a force that could move mountains. Huang Xile was the embodiment of that philosophy as he strode through the arena. He was chosen as the power-wielder of Zeth'Kan. Wielding that power, he now used it to crush the skull of Shere Yuanshan, champion of the Pan'Thak people. Screams of horror arose from the onlookers as they watched their strongest power-wielder fall in the duel. Or at least Huang Xile calculated that horror would be the most likely sentiment. He could not be sure and would therefore not argue the case.
Dropping the limb body of Shere Yuanshan, Huang Xile turned around precisely the moment the rest of the Pan'Thakian power-wielders would be close enough to grasp, yet not close enough to hurt him. The look in their eye changed as he did. Huang Xile estimated it to be due to dismay that their plan had failed. If they had reasoned as he they would have known that it would fail. If they had not split up the power in between all of them they would not have been divided and conquered. If they had reasoned as he they would not build their society upon justice, charity and kindness. If they had reasoned as he their subjective morality would not blind them from the truth.
Huang Xile hoisted the dying breed of power-wielding Pan'Thakians into the air with the power of Zeth'Kan.
"Monster!"
"Slaughterer!"
"Fiend!"
They cursed at Huang Xile before he ended them with a swat of the hand. The duel had been a necessary means to draw out the Pan'Thak elite. The Zeth'Kan order had agreed that it would be the most efficient way of crushing Pan'Thak resistance was to disarm them of their national fervor and create hopelessness among the populace. Should the champions fall, the brothers had estimated it would take 20-30 years to convert them to Zeth'Kan belief with all other factors accounted for.
Huang Xile watched as the Pan'Thak people fled from the arena. It was well that they had chosen to flee and live rather than to resist and die. The order would need every able hand to work their due to summon Zeth into this world. And with the arrival of Zeth, the Zeth'Kan order would finally know the greatest truth.
| 2018-10-18T15:54:26 | 2018-10-18T13:23:54 | 551 | 60 |
[WP] Rampant use of performance enhancing drugs amongst elite Olympic athletes coupled with lifetime bans has led to the creation of the "Performance Games" which encourages pushing the limits of human ability by any means possible. But what happens when things are taken too far? | The figure, ageless metallic, sped past his competitors. Clad not in clothing, but metal, he seemed unreal, more of a freak than the centaurs and cyborgs, somehow uglier than the recombinants and those with grafted limbs from other species.
But that was irrelevant. 120-130-140 miles per hour. Servos in his arms whir to counterbalance his movements, pistons in his legs furiously pump to push himself forward.
The track is long, five marathons end to end, but he comfortably finishes it within forty minutes. Breaking through the tape, he holds his hands up in victory. Only a few spectators are there in the flesh (so to speak) but he is aware of millions cheering furiously as they watch the stream, both the external feed taken by helicopter and the internal feed sent from the cameras he has for eyes.
And in a secluded basement, a doughy, freckled engineer rubs his hands gleefully, before high fiving his compatriot, a short programmer. "People though it was impossible to cheat, now that athletes could use whatever they wanted to make themselves better. Here's to proving them wrong! Who needs to modify a human when you can just build an android from scratch?" | Amery and Styll were lost. Styll woke first. Nothing but blue in all directions. The sea was calm at least, it could've been worst. But only by a bit. We must have overdosed again in practice, she thought. How far did we row? In which direction?
Amery tried to throw up over the side of the little vessel. Nothing came up. Food wasn't on their practice plan.
"Do we have any left? "
"Two more"
"Good. But which way? " | 2014-08-24T09:33:15 | 2014-08-24T07:50:21 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] You are a god! Well, a semi-god with your own pocket dimension. 4 times a year you teleport all the lost and abandonded animals in the world to your utopia. Today you somehow summoned a human child. | "...and yea, all those found lost and abandoned shall enter my realm and live, founded, for all eternity!"
As it began to literally rain cats and dogs, this I stood with my arms out, presenting the lost and abandoned creatures of Earth with a world to call their own. In this world, there is no pain, and there is no suffering. The giraffes have the tallest, most bountiful trees in their savannas. The household pets who found themselves astray on the streets of a concrete jungle now bask in a world of toys, beds, and artificial people who are bound to pet and play with them forever.
As I study the almighty God's creations roaming through the everlasting Fields of Founding, I notice a small child sitting in the grass. His clothes are tattered, dirty, and inadequate; they are a reminder of a world that forgets rather than forgives. It is a world that practices apathy rather than empathy. This child must have already been lost in the real world, and ironically, it seems as if he is even more lost here.
I began to telepathically communicate with the child, attempting to calm and comfort him. *Here is home. Home is here. The trees are your brothers, the grass is your sisters, the world is your home, and the animals are your family.*
I began to assume an avatar of myself, choosing to take the form of what a mother might look like. As I made my way to the child, I began to consider how many more children must be lost, just like the animals who dwell here. On Earth, there are several billion people living there; surely, there are many who are lost just like this little one. Thus, I have decided to invite humans into my realm, where they will learn to love and respect nature. They shall live in innocence and protection, free from the burdens of real life.
*You have inspired me, child. You will come to rule this world with me. Someday, you will have many other children to play with, and many other people to live with and love. But for now, it's you and me; let's see how our new friends are doing after we get you some new clothes, food, drink, and rest.* | There was something strange in the wood. I could tell by the sound of the murder. Curiosity. Fear. Laughter. This was their song, but it was much too loud today. There was something very strange in the wood.
I had need to move unnoticed, so I stepped into the shape of a field-mouse. My mind became small and sharp. Concerned with only it's concerns. I popped through the high grasses towards the edge of the wood, stopping only for a lost crumb of walnut from the crows. At the edge of the wood I froze. Cat were here, I could smell them. I dropped my walnut and scurried backwards into the shape of a squirrel.
A sense of arrogance descended on me, I had no fear of cats. I laughed at them as I launched myself up a friendly looking sugarmaple. Ah, here I could hear the crows much better. It wasn't simple strangeness, but also excitement and... familiarity? That didn't seem right. I had to get a different perspective on this. I stretched into the shape of a hawk and lept for the sky.
Up and up, quickly now. Use the sun, the crows won't look into it. Ah, heres a likely updraft. Perfect, now, the clearing... ah. What was that? Pale and upright, yet hunched and wary. Not a man, a monkey? Enough of this foolishness. Into a dive now, I'll land on that dead tree at the center.
| 2018-07-17T07:22:15 | 2018-07-17T06:32:17 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] On your deathbed, you see the Grim Reaper come for you. Suddenly, something else appears, and it's coming for the Grim Reaper... | There he was. I thought he was just a myth but there was no mistaking the dark figure that was gliding towards me. Black hooded cloak, the signature scythe. I knew I didn't have much time left, but I didn't want to go this early. I hadn't even said a proper goodbye to my wife and family yet! He was beside my bed now, looking over me, scythe poised, ready, and I found myself staring into empty void where a face should be.
'Please. . .', I begged, hoping to have just a little longer. The figure just stood there, unmoved by my desperate plea. The scythe raised, now coming down. . .
'GRIM!!!' A shrill female voice came from behind him. He turned around, and I saw another hooded figure standing by the door, walking rapidly towards us, and in her(?) hands, a small cloak. I heard what sounded like a groan from Death.
'How dare you just leave us like that! You think you can just use work as an excuse everytime little Timmy here needs you to change his diapers?' The female hood screamed.
'But honey, I AM working! I need to do we have a place to live in and food to eat!' he tried to explain.
'Uh-huh', Mrs Reaper was unimpressed. 'And that makes it OK? I knew I shouldn't have taken maternal leave. Now I'm just stuck at home, as your babysitter, while you go off with that hot secretary of yours!' She sounded ready to cry.
'What?! Trish isn't even here!' He turned and gave me a look that said 'women, right?'. I shrugged.
'Oh, so she's Trish now? That's it, I knew I should have married Bob from the human fate department instead, like my mother wanted, but nooo, I just had to choose you!' She turned around. 'I'm going to my mother's with Timmy!'
Grim chased after her. 'What, don't be like that, come on, we can talk!' The two faded from my view.
I blinked. The door opened. I looked, fearing Death remembered and came back. A man dressed in a suit walked in. 'Hi, would you like to talk about our Lord and Saviour Jesus?' My eyes widened as I prayed Death would figure out his marital problems fast.
| I had a fantastic life, I mused on my deathbed. Did everything I wanted, fell in love with the most wonderful woman in the world, and had the best children in the world, who had the best grandchildren in the world. Now, it was time for the loose ends to get tied up, and I had no complaints.
I look around me at the hospital. Nobody there, just the every-fainter sounds of the hospital machinery and the blinking lights slowly fading from view. For once in my life, I didn't really mind the sterile white of the hospital or the harsh light of the overhead lamps. Although, at the moment, there wasn't much of anything I really minded.
And just on cue, out of the corner of my eye, appeared the black-robed man himself, striding purposefully towards me. He drew his scythe from his back as he stalked towards me and lined up his swing. I watched him pull his scythe back, getting ready to sever my head from my body. I was ready to let go.
But clearly, there were others with differing opinions. Because as Death swung his scythe, something ***other*** tore the scythe from his hands. Death was shocked and tried to run, but the ***thing*** just out of sight tore him apart. All that was left was a black robe, and a jet black scythe lying propped against the wall. ***It** departed. I looked around me, not even noticing that I had suddenly ceased dying and had, in fact, become as strong as I was in my prime. I walked towards the scythe, not even noticing that the skin and flesh was vaporising off my bones. It wasn't until I put on the robe that I realised what had occured. My fate wasn't to die. It was to be Death. | 2015-07-10T10:53:19 | 2015-07-10T07:31:09 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] You and your cult were trying to summon a demon. Instead you summoned a Canadian Goose. | We looked at each other. The damn thing honked at us and began to hiss.
“This… this isn’t possible. It either…”
“Well, clearly it is. It’s there!”
“I can see that! I can see it’s there! But the ritual either shouldn’t have worked… or should have summoned a demon.”
We consulted the unholy scripture. It seemed ludicrous. The animal squaked and flapped and defecated on our floors. We had no answers. Until it spoke.
“I just *love* the goose.”
Aghast, we stared. The bill never moved. But the bird had stopped moving entirely and faced us, dead still but standing upright. The wings were permanently mid-flap, outstretched, and yet it was as still as a photograph. With one minor exception, a glowing red twinkle in its eyes…
“Do you know what I love about this kind of bird? Why this one in particular?”
“Uhm…” one of us answered timidly, “because its aggressive?”
“Oh of course!” The voice was disembodied yet came straight from the goose. It was as though it was talking to us straight from vibrations in the wings. The sound simply emanated from its vicinity.
“But more than that!” The voice continued. “Do you know why the goose is so aggressive? It’s one- absurdly territorial for an animal that could just *leave.* And two- it’s stupid! They are all so unbelievably stupid. This combined with their territorial nature makes them confident beyond their size and violent beyond their need. They are roaming chaos, for no rhyme or reason. Hate-filled, unrepentant, and never even daring to learn from their mistakes. It’s absolutely everything I love about the mortal world.” Surely it was a demon.
“I… I uh… don’t follow.”
“Humans are the exact same way. So tell me, spiteful and ignorant flesh sacks… what is it you want from me? What is your wish?”
“I do hope it’s violence,” said the goose. | It was the day, the day we have all been waiting for.
We got our robes on, got the circles ready, the sacrifice was set. We had been practicing our chants that we learned from the ancient books for months. Everything was right and the time grew closer and closer, the tension was palpable you could feel it in the air that we were all nervous to try and summon a demon.
I took a deep breath and started the chants, others joined in once they were ready. As we chanted in harmony we could feel something coming. Something dark and evil. A dark cloud began to form in the circle as the sacrifice was consumed, more and more clouds came through. The chants got louder and louder, my heart beat harder and harder. Finally months of prep and years of work were paying off. Then nothing.
&#x200B;
Silence fell across all of us. The clouds slowly dissipating. It was here.
Then it broke the silence and spoke to us in a language beyond our comprehension.
"HONK!"
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
This was my first attempt at a writing prompt. The Canadian Chicken Cobra is an inherently evil being to the extent that some my consider it a demon among water fowl. | 2022-06-06T07:54:46 | 2022-06-06T06:36:47 | 104 | 29 |
[WP] You are a horny Dr. Seuss; write a Suess-Style Rhyming erotic novel | Bountiful bossom
And plentiful penis
Bow down fair maiden
And worship my genius
---
I want you to hear me and do what I said
Off with your panties
Bend over the bed!
---
Cheeks of a delicate fleshy pink tone
I shall soon redden and tame with a bone
---
Smack!
And smack!
And smack it again!
One smack.
Two smack.
Three smack.
Ten!
---
Perilous penile phallic and flush.
Prepare of your coin purse for cocking and thrust.
---
I will impale you with force of a bus.
I am inside you.
Do not make a fuss.
---
Wallop and whackings
And more lovey tappings
And writhing
And thriving
I am soon arriving!
---
Stroke it with fury and pornified grace.
Stoke it.
And stroke it!
And look in my face.
---
Lick it.
And suck it.
From tip to the base.
Faster and faster like it is a race.
I will now climax all over the place.
And watch as you try it and give it a taste.
---
It seems I unloaded a cum bubble bomb.
And that is the story of OP's mom. | Candles and incense,
A knock at the door,
She could not know I'd not done it before.
We'd dated all summer,
And now was the time,
I popped open a bottle,
We sipped on some wine
She unbuttoned her shirt,
I kicked off my shoes,
Now was the time I had nothing to lose
Strange feelings they danced,
Like a mid summer fire,
Kissing and passion aloft with desire
Then came the moment,
I'm finally a man,
Time to kick back with some green eggs and ham
| 2015-02-25T16:36:37 | 2015-02-25T16:15:30 | 141 | 11 |
[WP] Your character has the lamest superpower ever.
And no, he's not Speedball.
Write an event where he or she or it is forced to use this power.
| Marcus Wright was reaching out to turn up the dial on the car radio when the feeling hit him. A tingling swept through his body, as if he were being electrified.
Marcus's wife looked at him, her brow furrowed. "Is it happening again?"
"Yes," Marcus said under his breath. He pressed his fingertips to his temple. The tingling was pulling him to the left.
"I knew we shouldn't have come this way," Mrs. Wright sighed.
"Mommy, what's going on? Is daddy sick?" Marcus's daughter, Wendy asked, leaning forward to see into the front seat.
Mrs. Wright rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, honey. Marcus, if you get out of the car, I'll --"
But Marcus was already putting the car into park. "Monica, you don't understand. I have a gift. It's my responsibility to use it to help others!"
Marcus opened the car door and leaped out into the toll booth plaza. The man in the car next to his turned and stared as Marcus rushed along the line of cars to a blue sedan, the last in line.
Marcus knocked on the window. With hesitation, the driver wound it down.
"Madam!" Marcus cried. "I have to tell you-- the line of the booth to your left is moving the fastest. In the interests of time and efficiency, it is to your benefit to move your car right now!"
Marcus scurried back to his own car, the traffic behind him honking and screaming. As he slid back behind the steering wheel, he held his head up high. Just another day in the life of a mediocre-hero. | "Hello everyone I'm Jeremy's mother. and I'm here to talk to you about sexual health."
A million sets of eyes turn to face me and I life my head up and drop it down on the desk a few times.
"Now I know all of you are much to young for sex but I do have a teen aged boy at home and I know there's other stuff you're going to get up to. SO. Let's talk about masturbation."
I can't stand it. I put my body down flat on my desk and release my souls hold on it. I float above myself for a second before I feel myself being drawn away.
Everything goes dark for a second and then I open my eyes. There are sounds all around but they're too deep to make out. I walk on the crunchy floor over to my wheel and climb on. I start running as I watch the rest of the class through my cage. | 2013-11-05T17:09:46 | 2013-11-05T16:37:52 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Write about the average 'upstanding model citizen' who obliviously, without knowledge or intent commits multiple felonies in the course of their day to day life. The more crimes the better. Bold or Italicize the misdeeds
Inspiration: Harvey Silverglate, a civil libertarian, has noted that with the broad laws on the books, especially those relating to technology, most Americans commit three felonies a day. These are the laws that allow the DOJ to harass people with trumped-up charges. Silverglate argues that an overzealous prosecutor could charge almost anyone with one of the many absurd, archaic or overbroad laws on the books. | *** THIS IS FICTION ***
My name is Philip Spencer and I'm as happy as could be. I currently live in a home outside of Chicago-land in a nearby suburb only twenty minutes away. One of my favorite things to do is to engage the community by doing volunteer work. Not only is it a good way to meet like-minded people but I enjoy being a role-model to the little kids; nothing could be more satisfying.
It's rare for people at my age with a full-time job to do volunteer work in their spare time, I'll admit. But I have to say that nothing makes me happier. The most popular complaint I get from people is that working a full-time job can be "really stressful" and "soul-crushing". Although I can understand these sentiments, personally I have been lucky to find ways that help me to circumvent the stressful and "soul-crushing" effects of working 9 to 5.
It all started one morning when I was hungry for breakfast. I had to catch the train to work but my kitchen was totally empty. I scavenged my backyard for food when I found a ***colony of mushrooms*** growing in a pile of cowdung from a neighboring farm's house. I considered my options and picked a few mushrooms. Boy did they give me alotta energy! My visual acuity went up, and I felt like I had just drank seven cups of coffee the entire day! Granted, there were some ***visual hallucinations*** that would enter in and out my vision, and there was ***the occasional demon who threatened to rape me in the bathroom when I was alone at times***. But barring those minor hindrances, the mushrooms did a great job at keeping me fed and energized!
So, over the next few weeks, I did some research on what I became to find out were ***psilocybin mushrooms*** and ended up ***systematically designing and building a large-scale grow operations to supply myself with pounds and pounds of psilocybin mushropms in my own home***. I was so excited to have an endless supply of this seemingly boundless energy source!
Over time, I became accustomed to eating a shroom or two before work, and even during volunteer sessions. It became apparent that ***the demons would not leave me alone unless I sacrificed to them the blood of the innocent***. This became a big problem! But like my grandma always told me, where there's a will, there's a way ...
One night, I found ***a fresh litter of kittens being nursed by their mother under a tree*** just a block away from my house... | As Marquette rolled unconsciously from one side of the bed to the other, his infected computer acted as a relay allowing for the **uploading and downloading of rape pornography**.
Marquette kicked his sheets off, his torrent finished **downloading the new Guardians of the Galaxy film**.
After stirring in his bed, he wakes up and uses the loo. A considerable amount of time passes while he relieves himself; enough time for **an underage girl to email him erotic pictures through his dating site account**.
His phone receives a text, the notification sound was a snippet of **a pop song he had cut down from a Youtube video**. This happened to be **a breach of the terms of service agreement** for his phone, of this he was unaware.
Marquette jumped on his computer with a sense of inspiration from a strange dream he just had. He grabbed **a (copyrighted) picture of a grandmother off Google images** that matched the tone of the meme about odd sex dreams.
He laughed at his own meme for a few minutes too long then jumped on reddit and **upvoted an article that praised Edward Snowden**.
After mucking about for a few hours, Marquette gets ready and grabs his camera. He wanders around town **taking photos of beautiful private properties which he posts on deviantart** after some light editing.
He stops by a cafe and drinks a coffee while his camera recharges. His roommate gets off work and they head back home.
Marquette arrives at home and sits on the couch watching **cable television which was split between the neighbors** while they hosted the internet on a WiFi network which his neighbors used in turn. He shouts at the T.V., "Come on Broncos!"
**They light up a bit of weed** and munch on an entire bag of kale chips.
Marquette stretches out across the couch in complete relaxation and passes out. | 2014-09-07T15:15:37 | 2014-09-07T13:03:31 | 30 | 19 |
[WP] Job hunts are literally that: You seek out the job you desire and kill the one who has it, or even engage them in ritual combat to claim the job as your own. You have just turned of age and desire your first minimum wage job. | “It is time my son.”
My father kneeled before me, holding out a buckhorn knife that was older than the nation. It was scuffed and stained with the blood of countless prey.
“My great great great grandfather made this knife himself to hunt for his first job. Ever since, it has been gifted to the eldest child when they come of age for their first hunt.”
I knew this time was coming, it was 7:00 am on the Monday after my 16th birthday, the age all young men worth their salt go forth and seek their first job. Seeing my father kneeling before me was still unsettling. He was a Nuclear Engineer with the scars to prove it; him kneeling before anyone was something that did not happen.
I took the knife from his hand and gave it a few practice jabs. Perfectly balanced. I grinned. Before I could thank him for the honor a young man smashed through the front window. Judging by his outfit he was an intern at the nuclear plant my father worked at, which could only mean he was hungry for a promotion.
My father grabbed his lead Great Hammer from its sling. A beautiful weapon intricately carved with equations pertaining to the science of nuclear physics and weighing more than me. The intern cocked his head back before lunging towards my father with a balisong. How uncouth, not even giving a formal declaration of Job Application. My father dodged expertly and countered with a blindingly fast swing of his Great Hammer, bulging muscles causing his suit to rip at the seams. The intern was quick on his feet though and whipped around grazing my father’s face with his weapon. My father was getting old, and it was apparent with every consecutive battle that he was getting slower. Two more cuts appeared on my father dangerously close to his jugular before he could get another swing. This time the intern was not fast enough, getting his legs swept from under him with the wet crunching sound of shattering bone. The intern lay on the ground panting, my father granting him the grace period to concede the battle before giving the killing blow. With a flash the intern threw his knife into my father’s eye and lunged with a hidden switchblade for his neck. Within a blink I found myself burying my knife in the young interns’ throat and ripping it back out, leaving a massive gash that spouted blood like a faucet. That’s when my father began to laugh. With a grin, balisong still lodged in his eye socket, he looked at me.
“Looks like I have a new apprentice.” | I called my favorite coffee shop and ordered an Large Americano, no cream no sugar. Since it’s my birthday, I get my yearly free coffee! Given the pandemic, we have to wait outside in our cars, and the employees will bring it to you.
The employee walked up to my car, wearing her mask and green apron. Right after she handed me my large hot coffee, I pulled off the lid and said, “excuse me, ma’am, you forgot to add the cream.”
She instinctively leaned over to see for herself. As she did, I plunged the coffee into her face, making sure to splash her eyes. She screamed and put her hands to her face in agony as I hit her with the car door, knocking her into the ground.
I grabbed her by the bun and dragged her closer to the car, placing her head in between the car seat and the door. I slammed the car door on her head. She was still screaming so I did it again and again and again until she wasn’t making any more noises or evening moving.
Finally, I was able to pull the green apron off her. This would be my apron from now on. Just for good measure, I put her head behind the front tire of my car. I think she was just unconscious. I slid back into my car, which was still running, and slipped it into reverse. Easing off the brake, I let the car scoot back until I heard the juicy crunch of the former barista’s head. Perfect.
I walked into the front doors, proudly holding my new uniform. “I’m here for my training!”
I was pleased to see that the manager looked older and somewhat scrawny. I was hoping to progress in the company. | 2020-11-15T13:06:24 | 2020-11-15T12:05:34 | 37 | 27 |
[WP] Water is the most dangerous fluid in the galaxy. Earthlings drink it like it's nothing. | The light fades in to reveal an important looking meeting room, a large circular table placed in the middle, with ten different looking creatures seated around it. In the middle of the table, an image of a blue and green planet is being projected for all the attendees to see.
Chatter fills the room, the different creatures all talking to their neighbours of the planet. Sol-3, as how it has been known for the past century. A grey humanoid stands up, its round black eyes eyeing each of the present creatures. Delegates of the Galactic Council. It clears its throat and silence falls in the room.
"Gentlemen, with all due respect, I think we can no longer ignore Sol-3's attempt in reaching out to the rest of the galaxy," the grey creature begins. It clicks on a device, and the projection of the planet changes to the shape of a rocket. The letters Space-X, painted in large red letters along the side of the booster, can be clearly seen.
The grey alien frowns at the sight of the Falcon-20. It continues to address the council. "Just last week, the humans, led by their beloved President Musk, have successfully launched their first ship towards Mars. It's only a matter of time before they discover our little trick."
A collective gasp fills the room, which is quickly followed by nervous discussions among the delegates. The grey alien clears its throat again, raising its bony arm to calm the room. The discussions die down, as the nine delegates look at the grey alien, the smartest species of them all.
A delegate, its scaly skin glowing red, rises from the table. "Ambassador Roselta, what are your recommendation to the Council then?"
For thousand of years, the Council have tried to convince the inhabitants of Sol-3 that life does not exist anywhere else in the universe. They sent science teams to distort the readings of the satellites of the homo sapiens, giving them false data. When the homo sapiens sent probes to Sol-4, almost stumbling unto the Sol Outpost, the Council tinkered with them too. All in the hopes of convincing the Earthlings to stay on their planet.
For the sole reason that H20, found in abundance on Sol-3, is actually the most dangerous fluid in the galaxy. But the Earthlings drink it like it's nothing. Their bodies consist almost entirely of it. Letting the humans know of this advantage would effectively hand over power of the galaxy to the humans. And the humans were not known to be entirely peace-loving.
Therefore the Council elected to enact Project Ignorance to neuter the threat. The plan requires least intervention and avoided any risk of contact with water. It worked for the longest time, keeping the humans' interest focused solely on their own planet. In recent years, however, the Council's efforts seemed to be losing its effectiveness.
Roselta sighs, reading the thoughts on all the delegates minds. He clicks on the device again, and the face of a human flashes in front of the table, slowly rotating in 360 degrees to allow all the delegates to have a good look at him.
"Council members, this is President Musk, the individual who is solely responsible for humanity's recent push into space. After much deliberation, the policy team would like to propose a method that we have used the previous time we intervened."
"And what would that method be?" the creature next to Roselta asks.
Roselta clicks again, and another face pops up in the middle. "Council members, allow me to brief you on Operation Oswald 2."
-----------
/r/dori_tales | Faith by its very nature is absurd. Not in a way that implies it’s something not worth pursuing, but that by requisite it forces you to accept something you cannot see. To leap whole heartedly into something that you cannot definitively prove. And this is where it becomes something uniquely suited to the human condition. An unwavering consequence of understanding rationality. A longstanding search for meaning in a world where none exists.
And it can be beautiful, a more unifying force than the creation of the first polis. A method of collectivizing human wellbeing. But to truly accept something that cannot be seen requires a certain amount of vulnerability that’s hard to freely give out. To understand that existence is more broad than simply what amounts to the self. And within that realization submitting yourself to something larger. A resolute confidence that things will get better.
But faith isn’t a solely human creation; not simply a lingering vestige of Earth. It is a universal concept throughout the universe. A necessary component of progress. The requirement for a truly utilitarian society. And while humanity lamented in the turmoil of war, famine, and disease, facing forward with optimistic certainty, a small planet thousands of light years away was drowning in a cloud of water vapor.
The remnants of some sardonic god, placing a society into a world where it was specifically unfit to truly thrive. Swarming clouds of water vapor meandering in a variable manner throughout the land, poisonous clouds, a never-ending plague on their kind. And they prayed to some intangible force, an unwavering faith that their plight would get better. And they pushed forward with a determination that their problems would be solved. Completely unaware that their solution was a society thousands of light years away, a society completely unaware of their unique ability to help.
An unknowable advantage, completely useless to our own difficulties. Our society capable of withstanding the poisonous clouds besieging this alien planet. To forge ahead and find a mutually beneficial solution. The prayers of their huddled masses missing their intended target. Not god above, but a planet completely unaware that they were the solution. And for centuries they fought the increasingly perilous clouds. Built tenuous barriers to protect their kind.
And on Earth we continued to pray on our own plights. To God; to anyone listening. A faith that the world wasn’t all there was, that somewhere out in the vast confines of space an eye was watching, waiting. But in fact, we as well were praying to something tangible, a far-off planet with answers to our own questions, but whose eye was peering completely inward. At their own struggles. So we waited, and progressed, finding answers in other ways.
Taking a leap across an endless chasm, frozen at the apex of the jump. Too late to turn around, and completely unknowing if we’ll reach the other ledge. The only reasonable choice in a world so uncaring about mankind’s existence.
| 2017-04-06T08:24:42 | 2017-04-06T08:21:49 | 95 | 26 |
[WP] In this world, salaries are determined by the desirability of the work: if everybody wants to do the job and it's fun, it pays minimum wage. But if it's hard or awful work that nobody wants to do, the pay is high. You decide to apply for the highest-paying job in the world. | In your world, I sit among the average human, riding the subway, reading the morning newspaper, and watching the sun go down. I myself would rather not worry myself in the jobs of other people because you might feel bad I taste ice cream for a living.
Or so you thought.
In my world, I sit as a man who watches paint dry. It pays me $262,000 yearly. To you it might seem like a scam. But if I were to taste ice cream for a living, I would be paid $8. Same would go for the man who rides water slides or the professional Netflix watcher. All jobs you would want here. What I see is paint dry.
Paint drying is interesting. It’s a job opportunity that I ventured forth. The news of the world is dreading, but the sewage is great. It’s a messed up world to you, but I say the same thing to your world. The man who hired me said this was a mistake. But I knew this wasn’t a mistake. I chose this job for money, so I could support myself.
“Do you, as a willful human being, agree to take the job of watching paint dry? I mean, this is a joke, right? You could have had a minimum wage job.”
“No, sir. I accept the job.”
“Alright then.”
I watch the men who set it up too. I’ve been doing this for 5 years and I’m a millionaire. So let this world begin. | It's not like John really wanted to be a history teacher in an all-boys private high-school in the UK. But, he was clean for a year (it was coke), did his year in prison (tax evasion) and also needed to hide from certain people (ex-girlfriend, nothing cool or gang related). He wasn't a bad guy, John, just started hanging with a bad crowd while trying to finish uni and had a firm belief in progressive taxation, specifically that he should be paying 1.3% less.
He was ready for a new start, ready to accept challenges and he needed the money for his big project.
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
''So, boys, any opinion on the history of workers' and women's rights?''
He never went back to coke, but the legalization of cannabis in 2020 in the UK did help. | 2018-08-02T15:18:31 | 2018-08-02T14:20:23 | 29 | 10 |
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