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 letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear Me,
I miss you. I miss the way you used to be. You used to care. You used to try your hardest. Now all you do is say, I'll do it later. I can see that you're struggling. Yet, you have more friends than you ever did, and you know what you want to do with your life.
But still, when it comes to day-to-day stuff, you don't care anymore. You still show up on class on time, but you do your assignments in class the day it's due, or stay up all night finishing that huge end-of-term assignment. Your car has bald tires, because you can't be bothered to get new ones. You have dozens of personal projects you started ages ago, then lost all motivation to complete. And you've shaved twice in the past month.
All you do now is spend your time browsing Reddit, reading the news, and watching YouTube videos. It's like you've given up. Yet, when you actually have a _purpose_ to keep trying, I've seen you move mountains. I've seen you learn to become a proficient programmer from almost nothing in two months, and be better than the other guy at work who's been doing it for ten years. I've seen you try. Sometimes you failed, but just as often you succeeded spectacularly. Now, all you CAN do is fail, because you can't succeed if you don't try.
It doesn't make sense. You are somewhat intelligent, but squander it on useless nonsense. _Who cares_ what somebody on the Web has to say? I don't care, so why do you? It literally has no bearing on your life. Why do you keep watching random YouTube videos about stuff you're never going to even try because you're sitting there watching YouTube videos?
Maybe all you need is a real challenge. Something that you truly care about. After all, it's hard to care about deadlines and challenges you're set when you know they're completely artificial and arbitrary. But you KNOW that completing post-secondary school is important, and critical to you finding a good job. But you still don't care. Deep down, I know you care, but you need to care _now_, not later.
I remember how you used to race to complete everything you were set so that you could hand it in early. I remember how you used to start something and actually FINISH IT. Now you get three chapters into a book, set it down, and never pick it back up. I remember how you used to sign 15 novels out of the library, and finish them all before the week was up.
Please come back.
I miss you dearly,
Your Future Self | Justin,
It's been a little over 3 years since you died. I still get hit with random emotions that make me burst into tears thinking about you. Both anger and sadness. I think about how things would be different if I had said or done things another way. If I had told dad you could come live with me, would you still be alive? I miss having you around for sharing stupid things off of Reddit or Imgur. I miss Netflix-ing Korean horror movies with you over Xbox Live and trying to time it just right on both of our consoles so it was like we were in the same room. You pushed me to start playing Call Of Duty which, silly as it is, has lead me to the wonderful life I have now.
I wish you could see your nephew now. He's so big and smart, and he looks so much like you that it made mom cry the last time she saw him. Your niece never got to meet you, but I will make sure she knows who you are. They both have the same defiant streak you had, which is both frustrating and heartbreaking.
Why did you have to take those drugs? I wish I had let you come down and live with me. You never would have met those shit heads that left you to die instead of calling 911. I can't say that I think about you everyday... It hurts too much. But I see you in my dreams. I always try to save you, but I never can and it hurts just as bad as when I got the call from Uncle Joe while I was at Disney World, because dad couldn't compose himself enough to talk on the phone. He has destroyed himself because you two didn't have a good relationship and it kills him that you never will now. I am afraid he will kill himself when grandma dies. She's the last person he has that needs him, now.
I don't believe in an afterlife, and neither did you. But I hope wherever you are... nowhere, or wherever people go when they die... that you aren't suffering. I love and miss you.
XXOO | 2017-11-05T22:02:16 | 2017-11-05T21:34:09 | 1,095 | 17 |
[WP] There's a good reason that savage and terrifying monsters live in bedrooms of small children. The children need protecting. | Silence permeated the room and darkness loomed. Peter's nightlight pathetically attempted to quell the darkness but it failed. Peter heard the sound he dreaded the most out of all.
The quiet squeak of the door hinge followed by the not so quiet footsteps of his disgusting uncle.
"Hey, sport."
He whispered. His voice sounded soft, but the evil that lay within him would soon rear its fangs.
Peter let out a half-hearted whimper.
This wasn't the first time, it had happened. Peter closed his eyes, and tried to think of things that made him happy. His uncle layed a hand on the young boy's thigh, and slowly brought it downwards towards his privates. Peter tried desperately to think about something else but his mind remained in the present.
"Oh, not hard huh? Well, I am."
His uncle said through a greasy moustache, as he grabbed the boy's hand. He led the boys hand toward his crotch.
A sniff could be heard from under the bed, and a snarl echoed the room.
"What in the hell?" Peter's uncle whispered to himself. As he backed away from Peter and made his way to the door.
A tenebrous figure disguised in shadow and hatred blocked the door.
"Who the fuck are you?!" He spouted. Saliva escaped his mouth and ran down his chin.
The creature opened its eyes, and leered at Peter's uncle with an undying abhorrence. Its eyes lit the room with sapphire. It grasped his throat and held him in the air with one arm with ease.
The creature unfurled its claws and scratched and clawed at the man's groin. The sound of flesh ripping and a man howling in agony reverberated the walls. The creature then, with no hesitation, threw Peter's uncle out of the room. The drywall cracked as the fat slob of a man was launched into it.
Peter cowered in the corner of his room, horrified.
"Fear not, child. I am here only to protect you. He will never hurt you again. Whenever you are afraid, you need only look for me under this bed. And I will be here." His voice was deep and gravelly, yet like silk. It soothed Peter.
The creature's once hateful eyes now looked compassionate and caring. The creature retreated back below Peter's bed.
And Peter slept soundly for the first time in years. And he did so for the next eighty.
For he knew, the creature was never far.
***
/r/batmans_left_buttock | Devin lay wide awake in his bed, his eyes peeking over the edge of his blanket.
"It's just a baseball bat," he whispered to himself. "It's just a baseball bat. It's just a -"
He heard a creak in the corner of his room where a clump of toys cast a shadow so closely resembling a terrible monster.
"Dad! Daaad!"
He collected his knees and brought the blanket over his face in defensive position.
"Coming. I'm coming." grumbled his Dad. He opened the door and flipped the lights on. He winced at the sudden brightness and rubbed his eyes. "What's the matter Dev?"
Dev slowly lowered the blanket and looked at his father. "There's, there's monsters Dad. I swear there is."
His Dad sighed. "Dev, there's no such thing-"
"I know, I know you don't believe Dad. And I'm trying but- but- but-"
"Devin. Listen to me." He sat next to Devin on the bed. He tousled his hair lovingly. Then he drew back his hand and looked his son dead in the eyes. "No one is going to hurt you. Ever..." He caught himself. He held back the '*again.*'
Devin searched his Dad's face. He was relieved. He looked at the scar on his Dad's cheek. His Dad had said it happened when he was too little to remember. He had believed him when he first said it happened fighting a bear. Devin sniffled and then smiled. He felt safe.
"I love you Dad."
His Dad stared back. He said solemnly, "I love you too." He kissed him on the forehead and turned the lights off and, just before closing the door glanced over at that corner of the room with the pile of toys and the harmless baseball bat. A chill ran down his spine. He hung his head as he closed the door. | 2017-04-25T22:36:48 | 2017-04-25T20:18:08 | 39 | 17 |
[WP]They laughed at your power... until they noticed the "no cooldown, no energy cost" description, and realized the implications | They laughed a lot at me, at school. “Wow,” they said, “you can share your thoughts. So, basically, you can speak to people’s minds, but can’t receive anything?”
I didn’t mind too much, my friends helped support me on the worst days. Some people got bad powers in this world, they pointed out. Like the guy who can turn his fingers blue by holding his breath. “And your powers, you don’t even need to hold your breath!” It was nice to be appreciated.
And you know, they were right. I just needed to listen to my friends, and life after that? Well, it was normal. Took life at a normal pace, found a place where they could help people like me, those without good powers. A nice room, 3 meals a day, and nice people to talk to, but they weren’t as good as my friends.
It wasn’t until there was a mean person at my place that I realized maybe I could do a bit more. Well, specifically, when I got punched in the head. He had a white coat, so my friends and I were supposed to listen to him, but he hit me! It hurt a lot!
My friends didn’t like that, either. “Maybe you should share that thought with him.” It didn’t take any effort at all. Suddenly I was in his head, showing him how much that hurt. My worries and fears of concussions, the hospital bills. My friends were pretty happy with me then, shouting “think more! Think faster!”
I realized now the man could hear my friends now, too. Oh, that was so good! Lately they’d been very loud, so much shouting. Not even the extra meals had been enough to keep my friends quiet.
His nose and ears started bleeding, the man who hit me. So many thoughts I had to share, and share them all at the same time, over and over! It was like…. Letting go of something you’d been holding on to for so long that you’d forgotten you’d been holding onto it.
“Why not everyone?” One of my friends asked, his black claws skittering across the ceiling, the gaping smile and empty voids for his eyes looking at me.
“Yes, why not everyone?” Another friend asked, bleeding teeth out of his hands and feet.
They had a point I didn’t consider! Maybe, just maybe, if I shared all my thoughts, and all my friends, with everyone…
Maybe life wouldn’t be so boring in my white room, my 3 meals, and orderly day, with all my thousands of friends.
“It would be easy,” said one more, their marble eyes rolling across the floor, stopping to rest at my feet. “We could tell everyone jokes!”
“What fun that would be,” I said, and the man with the bloodied nose and ears echoed with me, “What fun that would be!”
I laughed, delighted. And then everyone laughed with me. | Every power has a cost. All of the cooler powers take a lot of energy to use, like creation of fire out of thin air and telekinesis. Once powers like those are used for long enough, there is a natural cooldown before they can be used again. For the cooler powers, this is typically a few hours or so.
Typically, powers develop during puberty and they get "diagnosed" by doctors, similar to diseases. However, unlike diseases, there is no cure prescribed. When I went to the doctor for a regularly scheduled check-up and they decided to do the power test by doing a blood draw. The test returned and I got a rare and what they called a useless power: Manipulation of one individual atom to whatever I please. Since the power works on such a small scale, there is no energy cost and no natural cooldown.
"What's the point of this?" I thought to myself.
For a couple of weeks, I was just thinking of ways to make the useless power useful. Maybe if I got fast enough, because of the no cost and no cooldown, I could manipulate a small object to become a gold nugget or something over a long enough period of time, but one atom is so small that it might take an entire lifetime to turn one bead into gold.
During the latest of these days, I thought about the last part: "whatever I please". That never really implied things that are necessarily real, but as long as I imagine something of the atom it should be possible, right?
I decided to test this theory by taking a blade of grass out of by backyard and willing one of the atoms to become like a virus, being able to "infect" atoms similar to it throughout the blade of grass until it reaches the gas-like air, with the "infection" rate being one atom per nanosecond, until the whole blade of grass is 24k gold.
Thankfully, it actually worked. it seemed like the instant I willed the first atom, the whole blade of grass became gold. Just like that, reality can be whatever I want it to be. I can be the richest person on Earth if I wanted. I have the ultimate bargaining power if I need it. I can turn the stone to bread. I can do whatever I want. All it takes is one atom going my way. | 2022-06-03T14:45:20 | 2022-06-03T12:50:28 | 1,075 | 181 |
[WP] You, a villain, heart set on taking over the world, kidnapped the hero’s sidekick. You find out that you are treating them much better than the hero was and decide to take them under your wing. | Edit: I am humbled by the compliments. Thank you, your kind words have meant a lot to me. It's been a hell of a week.
---
"You can't keep me here, Captain Liar! Ultraman will stop you! And ... and ... I have do get my homework done before class."
"Quiet, Foundling. Soon you and ... wait, SCHOOL? ... how old are you?"
"I'll be 17 next March."
I thought back to our battle last year in Japan. Ultraman brought a teenager to a fight between superheroes? Child soldiers? That was a ... war crime.
"Uh..."
Shit, worse. I've kidnapped a child. I untied him and gave back his mask. If the FBI kicked in my door right now it would be easier to explain. Foundling rubbed his wrists but didn't move to attack. My reputation, I suppose. Well now what, Captain? Do I just let him go? Call a cab? Stall for time while I think of something?
"How did you get to be Ultraman's sidekick?"
"He bought me from my parents."
What the fuck? That wasn't in the press releases.
"How is it?"
A vision of tears. Everyone knows you can't lie near me, but the other side is that if you say nothing, I can get a Glimpse.
"I mean, I try my best to help, but I don't even know what he WANTS from me. I do things one way, it's not good enough, I do what he asks for, and I'm supposed to just KNOW that it was supposed to be done differently because in this case the villain was wearing purple, and that meant he was a lepidarian, I can't do anything right. I just want to be effective. It's not fun, it's terrifying. I don't even have good powers, and ... I'm not the first Foundling."
"Holy shit. That's ... that's not okay, Foundling. What are your powers?"
"I can pulse out a Tenser beam."
Tenser radiation? It had taken me 20 years to learn that name, research abandoned after a freak accident killed the discoverer in their own lab. A harmless effect that could only hurt one person.
"Can I get you anything?"
"I'm not hungry."
"I'm the Captain of Lies, Foundling. What do you want to eat?"
A vision of pizza, a flood of shame, then, "rice? plain rice."
Then unspoken, "it's what I deserve."
Pizza was delivered a tense half-hour later, after terse conversation about how to get through Grade 10 Math homework. The quadratic equation wasn't cheating, they teach it next year, and this was just pointless busywork anyway. Dinner was perfect -- I'd Glimpsed the right pizza toppings earlier. Foundling ate most of it; a man of my age only has two slices anyway. He was on the second glass of root beer, and I got up to get a stout and offer some ice cream.
"Captain... thank you."
I'll have to have Ramen next week, and this is at least 800 calories outside my budget but ... shit, he was fast, and I had let my guard down. Too close, a tackle... no, wait, Foundling's head was on my shoulders. He was crying. A Glimpse of a hug, so I gave it.
"...thank you"
I didn't understand. All the good Ultraman does, all the people he... I shook my head. No, that was all an act. Rice, war crimes, chattel, that's who he really was. After all ... abusers groom supporters, too.
[Part Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/fpgrmy/wp_you_a_villain_heart_set_on_taking_over_the/flm1m4b/) | "Drink this!" I snarled, thrusting the mug of scalding-hot cocoa into the boy's small, pale arms. He took it gingerly, set it down on the cold marble ground, and looked up at me, his blue eyes looking rather watery. I smiled as I looked down on him — miserable, resentful, broken....
"Thank you," he said.
"That's right you —" I began, in tones of triumph, then stopped as my brain registered what the boy had said. "*What*?"
"I said 'thank you,'" he repeated, a smile stretching his thin lips. "Cocoa's my favorite, but MotorMan *never* made any for me," he added wistfully.
"But — but —" I was at a loss for words. That had not gone down the way I had intended. Finding my tongue again, I spat, "Do not thank me, boy! This was not done out of the kindness of my —"
"Do you have any marshmallows?" he asked pleasantly, apparently not listening to a word I was saying.
"How — how *dare* you?" I hissed. "How dare you make requests of — of *marshmallows* from me? I am not your servant!" Without waiting for what he had to say next, I stormed away, my long black cloak whispering behind me.
Two hours later, I returned to the boy, clutching a tureen of half-cooked food. He would surely hate this....
"Oh, thank you!" he gasped, when I handed it to him. "I was so hungry!" And like an animal, he demolished the entire meal, belching heartily afterwards. Revolted, astounded, I swept away again.
How could this be happening? Why was he responding so well to my torture? And then I shook myself mentally — I *wasn't* torturing him. A malicious smile split my lips as a new plan formed in my mind. I had long since learned that inflicting pain on someone was much less effective than forcing them to watch pain being inflicted on another innocent, helpless being. And so I instructed my minions to fetch me several kittens. Surely this would break him....
As I sat him down in a rather uncomfortable hard-backed chair, I gestured to my men to begin the torture. One of them raised their bats, while the other hoisted the first kitten like a baseball pitcher and flung it — with a sickening crunch and a hiss of agony, the animal sailed away over our heads.
"Oh my God!" the boy cried, leaping to his feet and looking stunned.
"Yes," I said with satisfaction. "There will be much more of this to co —"
"That was perfect form!" he said enthusiastically.
"What?"
"My dad used to bring me to baseball games in the park all the time when I was little. I loved them, but I could never get the form right! Would you mind if he showed me?"
"But — what?" I spluttered.
"You know, you're much better than that asshat MotorMan," he said, beaming. "He never does any of this stuff with me!"
And I watched, bewildered, as he sprinted over to the men, hoisted a bat, and sent a kitten whizzing over my head.
Wow, the first prompt I did in over a week and I come up with this ridiculousness. Lol. If for some reason you liked this, I do much better stuff over at r/ShortsandSerials | 2020-03-26T14:45:19 | 2020-03-26T12:51:09 | 1,335 | 349 |
[WP] In a world where lying doesn't exist, you are the worst supervillain: Technically True Man. | **Meanwhile, somewhere in Baltimore...**
Two friends talk in a bar, a typical Saturday evening affair. I listen, and the two acquaintances have no idea. They never do.
"Yeah, man. Space. It's, like, the most fascinating thing, you know?"
"Totally, I listen to a lot of Neil deGrasse Tyson."
Ah... a familiar topic. Something inside tingles, a welcome rumbling of the stomach. I can feel the pull before he even says the words.
"Did you know the *Universe* is, like, 15 billion years old?"
"Oh I had no-"
"UM, ACTUALLY!"
"Oh no! It's Technically True Man!"
"Muahahahahaha!"
Leaping from my barstool, discarding my trenchcoat to display my full glory. A crimson cape, yellow spandex. My emblem? A simple, unassuming asterisk.
"Fools! The true age of the Universe? APPROXIMATELY 13.77 BILLION years. Technically, of course."
"NOOOOOOOO!" Their tears are so sweet, nourishing. The disappointment and embarrassment fills my very soul. And, now, to hunt for more-"
"NOT SO FAST TECHNICALLY TRUE MAN!"
Oh no. It's *him*.
"Oh, boy! Can it be?" my victims gasp. "It's ACTUALLY OK MAN!"
Shit.
"I've been tracking you for days, Technically True Man. No small wonder I would find you in this Public House." There he stood, plain as day. How did I miss that stupid checkmark motif? "You'll never stop me, Actually Ok Man! I'm *always* technically correct."
"Well you do have me there, Technically True Man. Except, you forgot one thing."
"Oh yeah?"
"Your technical correction? Was just a more accurate approximation. In an informal conversation between friends? A rough approximation... is actually ok."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed, the feeling I had before began to wane. "The nourisment it's... ah... reversing..."
"Thanks Actually Ok Man."
"Just doing my job, fellow citizen."
"Foiled again! Nyaaaaaaaaaaaa... You won't see the last of me! I'll be back!"
"Good," said one of my former victims. "With Actually Ok Man on our side, come back anytime." Then, he paused.
"Also, your symbol looks like an asshole."
| Who knew taking over a country could be so goddamn easy? I mean all I had to do was sound good and people would just go with it. As long as I kept it vague and simple all the pieces would fall right into place.
My political opponents being an issue? Not at all. Just go up to the crowd and say "We don't know what could be in those emails. She could be conspiring against us for all we know."
Technically I wasn't lying. She could be a 7 foot dinosaur wearing a human skin suit and we wouldn't know for sure. It's not lying to suggest something that can't be proven.
People are saying my hands and penis are small? I tell them to "trust me" and that "there's no problem down there!"
As long as I don't acknowledge that my hands are small, I can imply that they aren't. And I mean yeah, technically there wasn't anything wrong down there. There's nothing wrong about having a micro penis.
But this was all child's play. Now that I was president it was time to move on to my grand plan. It was time to begin construction of my dooms day device.
First I needed a scapegoat who could provide me a reason to build it, and who better than the Mexicans to fit that role. All I needed to do was throw one of my great tantrums about how "some of them are evil and are hurting are country!"
Honestly I was a little surprised at how quickly my country fell for this. Maybe they just wanted someone to blame for their mistakes. It sure is easier to ignore the cold hard truth anyways.
With construction under way everything was going according to plan. Soon my dooms day device would be complete. A weapon of mass construction and as I told the roaring crowds of hate and complicity, it would "CHANGE AMERICA AS WE KNOW IT!"
| 2018-10-23T07:29:36 | 2018-10-23T06:36:28 | 101 | 31 |
[WP] As dragons get older their magical prowess is shaped by what is in their hoards. As you wander the ruins of a kingdom you notice one item start to show up, the implications are immense. | The dragon’s den was one of legends and terror to the locals. The scant records that had been saved in the Church’s records spoke of corpses in various states of decay littering the smaller adjacent tunnels. Sightings of the dragon ‘buying’ the bodies of plague victims from their mourning families with a cart full of unrefined gold.
The mysterious dragon that had at one time only hoarded books and herbs, had abruptly changed to hoarding the dead. The Church attempted to rally the kingdom to slay the beast but was silenced after the dragon would return the ashes of the dead at year's end.
Further records spoke of brave souls from other kingdoms who would seek the dragon’s council. These brave souls would go on to become the great doctors of their era. Each one carrying a staff bearing the dragon’s crest as proof of their training.
The Serpentines, as they were called.
But that was centuries ago. The Serpentines had died out, and the few journals left behind after the invasion of the tyrant’s army were burned. Now a new plague has begun to ravage the land. Modern medicine was struggling to keep the illness at bay.
“Who are you mortal?” an echoing voice demanded from above. The traveler raised his head to take in the sight of a large serpentine white dragon coiled comfortably on a pillar.
“Greetings Asclepius, I am Prince Hadrian Aelius. I have come to request an apprenticeship.” | Poem:
It's said in the backrooms of taverns musty,
That the hoard of a dragon, all dry and dusty,
would tell you the tale of it's magickal woes.
​
I tell you dear friend, there's no truer tale,
So go to the barkeep and grab you some ale,
While I spin you a yarn to tickle your toes.
​
Spent seasons, walked leagues, delved fathoms, I dug,
Only to find myself with an empty ale mug,
Despondent and lost as the story will go.
​
But at the top of a mountain, a bright neon light,
Even my old mentor was in for a fright,
When we found A dragon named Slickback, the Hoarder of Hoes. | 2022-12-15T15:49:18 | 2022-12-15T12:16:49 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] You are just about to lock up your childhood home after clearing out your recently deceased parent's things. You decide on one last walk through and realize there is a door you never opened. | I had not been sad like this in a long time.
With my son by my side I cast a final glance towards the empty living room. I held back tears for the umpteenth time.
Their laughs would never fill these walls again. That way my mum would burst into fits after a bit of good wine. It was all too soon.
-Dad we should go, mum’s waiting for us.
He was right.
I slowly made my way down a set of stairs which gave onto the garage. I remembered having put holes in this wall as a kid. My sister and I would drive my parents crazy. A smile formed on my lips. She had been so angry. My dad almost appeared impressed at the time. He probably was.
We entered the garage and I scanned the area one last time before closing up.
This used to be my place in the house.
So many experiments and various projects. I remember wrenching on my kart for hours on end. The black spot from the “accidental” fire still marked the ground.
I loved this house.
As the garage door was closing my eyes set on the furnace room door.
-Liam one second, I need to check something.
I lifted the door back up and wandered towards the rear. I had never actually been in the furnace room. My mom wouldn’t have it. When we were younger she told us it was dangerous, too many electronics and gizmos. As I got older, I never paid attention to it. I can’t remember having ever seen the inside.
As I opened the door for the first time my mother’s familiar scent drifted towards me. I flipped the light switch on.
It looked like a little workshop. Crafting supplies and wrapping paper littered the workspace. This is where she had made all our cards and wrapped our gifts. I choked up again, seeing her tools arranged across the desk.
On the side table I spotted a singular package. It was prepared with care and precision, worthy of a magazine.
I found my name on a tag, her handwriting always neat and correct. The accident had happened the day before my birthday.
-Are you going to open it?
-She would want me to.
I slowly opened the package, finding a card.
The card was in my dad’s writing. He always had a knack with words.
After reading the message I looked towards my son, a tear running down my cheek.
One day he would understand.
He hugged me as I cried for the first time since he was born. | Papers, papers, papers, a million sheets of paper packed inside a hundred carboard boxes.
Lots of toys, little acessories, some statues and some jewelry, everything was ready to go.
Eager to leave this stripped house, dead as the people who used to live in it, I go for one last look around.
After all this time, after 30 years passed, all the memories, all the games I used to play in this worn and dusty hardwood floor.
Stairs, turn left, and there was my childhood room in this house that used to be bigger, in countless hours running around in what was some times a castle, some times a battlefield, others just outer space, and this time this empty cold house was just that.
Empty.
Cold.
Often I would just pretend to be around in a jungle hunting wild animals, every door would lead to a different big animal I had to find.
My parents always worked too much, I spent too much time alone in this house, I knew every corner, every hole, every little secret of it, and oh how I wish I could play here one more time, just one more adventure.
Entering my parents' room for the last time I remembered all the nights I slept with them as a little kid, all the nightmare nights that turned into sweet dream ones.
Before I even knew how to walk I already knew the corners of this little cozy room.
And then something struck my vision, right there, in the middle of the room, in plain sight, a trapdoor in the place where the bed used to be.
Could this be, another adventure, something more to discover?
Klack, the sound of the wind closing a window brought me back, and the trapdoor wasn't there anymore.
____________
_________
^^Read ^^the ^^first ^^letters. | 2016-06-05T18:18:23 | 2016-06-05T17:55:21 | 39 | 12 |
[WP] Medusa befriends a blind princess after she accidentally wanders into her cave. Unfortunately for the princess’ suitors, Medusa has now developed a crush and doesn’t take well to competition. |
“You can’t keep me here forever, Dusa,” Althea said.
“Watch me,” Medusa immediately retorted. At this point, she’d held Althea here for nearly a week, preventing her escape by stacking all of her precious statues up against the cave entrance to block it.
“I can’t--I’m blind,” Althea replied matter-of-factly. Medusa could only stare at her, not sure on how to even reply to that. Althea sighed. “You know father will just figure out where I am eventually, and he’ll show up with an entire platoon of soldiers.”
“And I’ll petrify them too; add them to the barricade,” Medusa shrugged. “Nothing will keep me from keeping you here forever.”
“Dusa, listen to yourself. At this rate, I’m just another one of your statues, to be kept here collecting dust for all eternity. Please, I thought we were friends,” Althea pleaded.
“Friends…. Yes….” Medusa said quietly.
“So what changed!? Why am I suddenly not allowed to come and go as I please!?” Althea chided, stomping her feet and puffing her cheeks in frustration. Althea was angry, Medusa realized this, but how could she not find her adorable? It was moments like this that Medusa almost started to wish she *could* petrify Althea--to preserve her like this forever. But then she’d miss out on all her other expressions; all the other nuances of the woman she loved. This was the best way. This way, she could see it all. Forever.
“If I let you go back to that stream of suitors you experience near every day, one day, one of them will eventually take you away from me,” Medusa quietly replied, unable to meet Althea’s eyes, even though Althea was blind.
Althea blinked, stunned. “That’s what you’re worried about?” she asked. Medusa nodded silently. “...... Are you nodding? I feel like you’re nodding,” Althea said after a brief pause.
“Yes,” Medusa sighed. She was still constantly forgetting that Althea couldn’t see her visual cues, even after all this time.
“I doubt that. You’ve no idea how exasperating it is to have them around, and it’s titles this, dowries that, promises this,” Althea sighed deeply. “All of them look at me, but nobody sees me. You don’t know what it’s like.”
“I do, actually,” Medusa corrected her. “I wasn’t always like this, you know. Once upon a time, I was the most beautiful maiden in all of Greece, and my suitors were so numerous that selling refreshments to my would-be-husbands as they waited in the sun became part of the town’s economy,” she bragged.
Althea furrowed her brow. Medusa very, very rarely spoke of herself, so this was all news to her. “Really?” she probed, trying to get Medusa to divulge more of her mysterious past.
Medusa nodded. “Oh yes. I barely had a moment to myself. My long hair the color of spun gold and my eyes the color of green olives attracted men--and some women--from all over Greece. Some weren’t even there as suitors, they merely wanted to catch a glimpse of me; see if the rumors were true.”
“So…. What happened?”
Medusa’s eyes turned downcast. “So beautiful was I that even the gods took notice, and they don’t take kindly to being outdone by mortals. So they cursed me. My hair of spun gold was turned to snakes by Aphrodite; my honeyed skin was turned to grey scales by Athena; and my olive eyes were cursed by Hera to become serpentlike and to petrify all those who would meet my gaze, so that I could look upon the expression of horror frozen upon their faces as they saw my disturbing visage.”
“Just for being beautiful?” Althea said aghast.
“Such was my crime.”
“Well, that’s hardly fair! You can’t control how beautiful you are,” Althea decided, outraged.
“They didn’t see it that way. Just like everybody else, they looked at me, but they didn’t see me. And then I was turned into a monster and once again, people looked at me, but they didn’t see me,” Medusa lamented. She peered pensively at Althea, wondering how much she should confess. If she told Althea how she felt, would Althea think she was just like the rest? Would Althea feel as invisible to her as Medusa had felt to her own suitors and the gods?
“I see you,” Althea interrupted Medusa’s thoughts. She said it with such certainty that it surprised Medusa. Althea had said it all herself; with three words she had explained why it was that Medusa had fallen in love with her.
Medusa smiled warmly. “So you do….” She stepped over to Althea and with a clawed finger she gently and lovingly stroked a tress of curly brown hair out of Althea’s face. “It’s ironic how the one to finally see me would be a girl who cannot see at all….” Medusa cupped Althea’s cheek and caressed it with her thumb, feeling Althea’s smooth olive skin against her own rough scales.
“Yes….” Althea raised her hand and gently grabbed Medusa’s wrist. “But you have to see me too, Dusa. I’ve spent my whole life sheltered by my father. I won’t be sheltered by you.” Medusa’s heart sank. Althea was right--Medusa had been so focused on what *she* wanted; so focused on keeping her that she’d become just like the people she hated. She wanted to possess Althea the way her suitors had; and she wanted to take Althea from everybody else, the way the gods had.
Medusa pulled her hand back. “I’m…. I’m sorry.” She felt like crying, but she swallowed and forced it back down. “I’ll… Remove the barricade. So that you can leave.” Medusa sighed and stepped away. She got to work removing the statues from the entrance while Althea waited quietly. Medusa knew that Althea would be gone soon and she wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what. Did she even deserve to tell her anything? In the end, the words got stuck in her throat and she removed the statues in silence. “There. You can leave now….” she instead said after having cleared a way for Althea to leave.
“Thank you, Dusa,” Althea beamed. “Well then, see you again in a couple of days,” she added jovially and stepped past Medusa.
Medusa blinked in surprise. “Y-you’re coming back?” she stuttered.
“Of course I am. Why would I not?” Althea didn’t need to have working eyes to see the confusion in Medusa’s face. “You worry too much, Dusa. Just promise you’ll listen to me in the future.”
“Yes, I… I promise.”
“Oh, and I wouldn’t worry too much about the suitors,” Althea added. “I already have somebody I love.” Medusa’s chest tightened and her expression dropped before Althea continued. “A bit rough at first, but she’s very sweet once you get to know her. But I think she might love me too. She’s a bit too concerned about her appearance, though--worried that people won’t see her for what she is--but I think she should probably take her own advice and see past her own appearance.”
Medusa blinked and watched Althea as she kept walking on. “W-wait. Are… Are you talking about me?”
Althea giggled. “Am I?” she asked teasingly without stopping.
“Because yes--I do love you!” Medusa called after her. “I felt like that was implied!” Althea just laughed in reply as she was getting further away. Medusa grinned sheepishly and she noticed how warm her cheeks felt and she wondered how long she must’ve been blushing for.
She couldn’t wait to see her again. | *ANY CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS APPRECIATED*
Medusa. Everybody knows her, the infamous monster that can turn you to stone. Everyone, that is, but the dearly loved Princess Teseria. Since birth she had been blind, and so her every move, every minor decision was watched carefully by the royal guard, might she seek danger. The king was sure to keep her 'safe' and sheltered, thereby keeping her as ignorant as possible. He dared not speak of any even remotely scary story, from the stories of the titans to non-lethal nor gory tales of his old hunting accidents.
One day, when the Princess was about seventeen, he allowed her to venture beyond the castle's walls-with, of course, several royal knights to escort her. However, the princess knew he would do this as he always did, and she knew in her heart that she could stand no more. So, hiding in stairwells and broom closets, behind doors and thin walls, she listened. She learned as much as she could about the outside world and read many books about survival and escape, for every book in the library was copied into braille per her request. When the day came, she prepared a knapsack to take with her full of the proper clothing, food, and materials.
Teseria managed to evade the guards and slipped deep into the woods when they stopped for a break, running for days with few stops to rest until she found a dry cave. She wearily walked through the cave until she could move no further, then laid to rest and let sleep overcome her. She woke up to find herself lying in a bed of what felt like sheep's fur under a rough fabric.
Startled, she quickly shot up. Now, if she could've seen, she would have instantly turned to a beautiful quartz stone marbled with gold, for Medusa turned people to stone based on their inner beauty. If they were an awful person, they'd turn to the dullest, brittle stone, and if they were kind-hearted and most compassionate as Teseria, then they would likely turn to sparkling diamond or shiny emerald, eternally beautiful.
regardless, let us return to the story. When the Princess did not immediately shriek, Medusa blinked. She was startled but quickly understood her mistake. "Hello, miss. I found you near my home and brought you in, fearful that death would pull you in if I wouldn't help you. I hope you're comfortable." Out of mercy, perhaps, or, though she refused to believe it, simple human kindness, Medusa nursed Teseria back to help after the few days she had run in rain, mud, near wild animals and in dangerous conditions, all of which Princess Teseria recounted. She listened to Teseria's stories, learned things about her, admired her long silky hair and distant grey eyes that somehow seemed to sparkle when she laughed, her kindness to every creature and adventurous spirit.
Days went by, then weeks, and eventually months. The two grew close. Soon after the princess had vanished, the king's most trusted knight discovered them. Because of Princess Teseria's persuasion, Medusa allowed him to escape, though she would soon learn to regret that decision. The knight traveled back to the king, who was enraged when he heard that the monster Medusa was 'keeping Princess Teseria locked up in a filthy cave' (It was actually quite cozy, and somehow even carpeted) and issued a decree stating that any knight that could rescue Teseria from 'the evil monster's clutches' would wed her and become king.
Every few weeks, a prince or knight would arrive, and each time, unbeknownst to Teseria, Medusa would stop him in his tracks. Many would turn to some shade of Tourmaline, though there were occasionally the particularly awful, who was turned to the dullest, most crumbly, and ugly stone possible, though that was rare. Over time, the princes piled up.
One day, Princess Teseria and Medusa were about to take their walk through the woods, Teseria reached her hand out and felt something strange. It felt like a human face, yet it was cold and rough. "Medusa," she called, "What is this?" When Medusa saw her standing there innocently, inquisitively tilting her head, she could not bear to lie her love. She fell to her knees, weeping. She managed to choke out an explanation. Teseria, shocked and hurt, also began to cry. She loved this woman, yet she could not fathom this side of her. And so they wept together, arm in arm until there were no more tears to fall.
However, in letting their guards down, they were careless. someone had snuck behind them. A bag was thrown over Medusa's head, and a net over each. They were thrown into a wagon, where they traveled for a couple of days with little to eat. Soon they arrived at the castle. Forced to their knees by their captor, they bowed to the king.
"My dearest daughter," The king shouted. then, addressing Medusa, "as for you. You, disgusting monster, shall be thrown in the dungeons and blinded, then executed." He then bellowed out "Guards!" Two men grabbed Medusa. "NO!" Teseria shouted. "Please, take me instead. Please, please, ^(please...)" her voice faded as she sobbed, so hard that only her shoulders shook and her eyes closed. Medusa, meanwhile, strode silently, awaiting her death. Her head up with pride, her gaze never wavering despite the bag over her head, she walked down many stairs, and just when she thought she could stand no more, was forced into a cell and collapsed in a chair.
Medusa waited in the dungeon for hours, her stare never wavering, barely blinking. Meanwhile, Princess Teseria and her father spoke to one another. "Father, you can't do this!" She cried out between sobs. Here, the king was conflicted. He loved his daughter, yet for her to wed a *monster?* and a woman, no less, which was not illegal but certainly uncommon and would create an even bigger scandal. "My dear, *I* love you. Not that monster. It can't *feel*. The king spoke to her in what he thought was a kindly tone, though it seemed particularly condescending to his daughter.
She looked up. Holding back her river of emotion, she held his gaze (or thought she did, being unable to know where exactly his eyes were) and looked him in the eye. "You say that, yet you refuse to allow me the comfort of my *true* love. You are no father of mine." And with that, she spat at his feet.
Teseria ran down the stairwell, evading capture, and finally, when she reached her love, she forced through the metal bars, nearly killing herself. "If you kill anyone, kill me." The guards, unsure what to do, stood there for a moment before reacting. Then, they rushed up to the king, to ask for orders. As they ran, Teseria quickly undid the knot of rope around Medusa's hands-she had learned how in the survival book. Medusa at last pulled off the sack, letting the snakes in her hair breathe easily. "We're in this together, my dear. I am so sorry," she said. And with that, they held each other, until the final blow came from that cruel king and his executioner. Forever the two lovers will remain in the memory of every citizen and servant, every noble and peasant, whom would spread the tale to their children, until the legend could never be forgotten, no matter how twisted it became. | 2021-03-08T07:49:33 | 2021-03-08T07:15:38 | 111 | 61 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | I always thought I would die from being stabbed in the back by a dirty, dull knife. Some sort of poetic justice, if you will, at least regarding the stabbing. My knives were always sharp.
When they brought me to court, they told me that it was magic--out of the realms of a simpleton rogue like me. They waved a wand at me and told me that I couldn't lie, even if I wanted to. So when they asked why I did what I did, the answer was simple and truthful:
"Because it paid well."
Though a little half-hearted, it was with no less candour. Gold was necessary for survival, but it's a little strange how the most important thing in my life wasn't necessary. In demand, but not needed.
I was sentenced to death. I had no letters to send, no people to speak to. That suited me just fine. This was already more dignity than I was used to.
I thought the end of all that would be a noose. A vial of poison. The swing of an axe.
"Sybil Harper," the burly man in a black hood pointed to the woman in front of me, who stepped forward with impunity. "How would you like to die?"
"Of old age," she said.
The executioner brought out a wand, comically undersized in his large, meaty hands. But he was learned, magic-touched--and with an incantation and a bright streak of purple, I saw the half-elf's hair go from black to grey to white, her ears drooping, her height diminishing, and her confident poise hunchbacking.
With that, old Sybil Harper hobbled one, two steps, before collapsing onto the floor. When they turned her around, there was a toothless smile on her face.
"Ged Ruell," the headsman said now, and I gulped, my mind turned around in an instant. "How would you like to die?"
"Doing what I love," I said.
The wand came out, once more, and this time, a fiery red beam unleashed itself upon me. I struggled with its power, forcing my eyes entirely close, but eventually, calm washed upon me like familiar ocean waves lapping at my feet.
I opened my eyes, vision lit again, slightly obscured at the sides with black, and with the sight of my dead body on the floor. It was dragged away swiftly, without honour or respect.
I could not hear my own thoughts. Now, it felt like I was drowning, my thoughts swirling into a perpetual maelstrom, unable to keep my head above water, oppresive dark cloud and shrieking thunder blackening every sense.
"Elliot Cobbett," the words came out, not entirely of my own volition. I watched my hands point to another man in the line. "How would you like to die?"
"Quickly," he replied.
The hand dropped once more. Instead of a thin wand, the hand encircled a familiar, leather-wrapped handle. And in a stormburst, the clouds cleared, and one thought rang true.
"With pleasure," I said.
---
r/dexdrafts | Well, it went almost as expected. No way this magic court would fall for that kind of smartassery, and rapidly decaying body of very old man, who was in his thirties a moment ago, was a proof of that. There have to be a better way.
"Garreth Berch, step forward" - Judge called my name, and my legs obeyed despite my will screaming at me to run away.
Truth was, there was no running any more. My assassination attempt at the king failed miserably, when that little servant girl stole the poisoned chocolate. If only I knew. They caught me shortly after, when I tried to leave the castle. I still could've got away, but then I learned of the girl. I never ment to harm the innocent.
"For the murder of Sevilia Thornvil by poison and the assassination attempt at King Robert III, you are sentenced to death by the means of your own choice." - Judge gave the sign, and the Executioner activated runic circle around me.
"Although I would prefer to not give you an easy death for your disgusting deed, our God is mercyful and his law we follow. Now, tell us, how do you want to die?"
Cold breath of death enveloped me, waiting for my last will to manifest. The glimpses of my life, all the harm I have brought to people, innocent bystanders who got caught in my fight for the greater life. Soldiers who fought for their kingdom, who had families to protect, despite being ruled by a tyrant. Was my war worth it?
Glimpses of the past changed into visions of afterlife, eternal torment for my sins, for all the pain I have brought onto others. I was shaking. I wanted to scream at the void, that I did it for the greater good, that I never wanted to harm anyone. But the vortex of nothingness did not care.
There have to be a way out. Not from death, no, the trap already closed. But from hell.
I inhaled deeply for my last time: "By helping others."
That was my best shot. A hope for the second chance, or at least a redemption of selflessness.
Everything went dark. For a moment I was nothing. Nowhere. It was very cold.
Then, a voice reached to me, pulled me out towards the light:
"Hey, you are finally awake" | 2021-06-24T09:55:49 | 2021-06-24T07:20:03 | 803 | 392 |
[WP]: You told your brother to write his own damn book if it's so easy. So he did. Sat down to type 8 hours per day, churned out a 400-page novel in a week, sent the first draft to a publisher un-edited, and for some goddamn reason everyone loves it. | Mark’s phone vibrated while we were having breakfast. We weren’t supposed to have our phones at the table, but Mom and Dad gave him an exception because of “how available” he needed to be.
He grinned at me and said, “Sorry, it’s Dan.” Dan. His agent.
His. Agent.
I looked up at him as he checked his notification with all the rage I could muster, praying that lasers would shoot out of my eyes and roast that stupid smirk off of his stupid face.
He read the message aloud. “Hey, Mark, I know your upcoming book tour is already packed, but apparently the governor of California’s wife runs a book club, and they were hoping you could make time to come by. What should I tell them?”
I felt another piece of my soul die.
Five months ago, my twin brother was barely passing AP English Lit, a class that he barely got into in the first place, and only because Mom told him to. He openly shat on every book assigned after reading past the first two chapters, and then just looked up the highlights on the Internet.
That’s when I told him to “shit or get off the pot!” and write his own book.
And now he’s being hailed as a prodigy over what is, by any objective standard, the most mediocre novel of the last two-hundred years.
It’s not bad, sure. Okay. I’ll admit that. But it’s not good, either, much less some “masterpiece for the ages, a work of art on every page,” as the New Yorker fawned. It’s a pile of tropes wrapped around a wholly predictable love story.
There was no reason his Reddit AMA should have crashed the site.
The worst part? He dedicated it to Mom and Dad, but not me. I’m not even named on his Wikipedia page.
“You should absolutely go,” Dad said with a mouthful of bacon, like this was completely normal. “It’s the governor.”
“His wife,” Mom said. “And we didn’t vote for him anyway.” She turned and put a hand on Mark’s knee. “Honey, you’re going to be so busy...”
“I know, Mom,” he said, his grin widening, “but people just can’t get enough of me, and who am I to...”
I couldn’t take it anymore. “ARRRGH!!! This is such fucking bullshit!”
“Jayson!” Dad snapped.
“No! This is crap, okay? It’s crap. I’ve been reading and writing since I was three years old - three years old! I love storytelling. I love literature. But everything I put out there just dies. Then all of a sudden he...” I thrust my knife towards Mark “...he shat out some banal turd in one sitting, and the world lost its mind!”
There was fire in Mom’s eyes, “Jayson, that is no way to talk about your brother’s accomplishment!”
Dad was about to have his turn, when Mark said, “Guys, guys, it’s okay. It’s just like what Prince Eldomir said when he was vanquished to the realm of the lost Elves...”
I closed my eyes and braced myself for his stupid quote from his stupid half-blood prince to his stupid future elvish bride in that stupid, stupid, stupid goddamned book.
“...Though alas my heart is heavy, I journey forward, in the hopes of finding acceptance and love in those who may want me.”
I heard my Mom sigh and my dad sniffle.
“I hate you,” I muttered.
“Well, maybe one day you can write your own book,” he replied. “I’ve got contacts, you know?” | I can’t believe that he did it so easily.
My brother did it, he wrote a book, easily like it was no big deal, like it was children's play, like everyone could do it.
It takes me a whole year to get out a good book, and i still think i’m rushing it. But not Mister Know It All Does It All, it took him 3 months.
But I’m not one to just criticize a book without reading it, so i bought a copy, and read it.
It’s awesome, it’s a darn good book, the characters are engaging, the descriptions are beautifully written, the plot makes sense but still surprises you, the dialogues are wonderfully put.
It's probably the best book I read.
But never in a million years you would hear me tell this to my brother.
"Why ? "you may ask. My brother is a genius in every field of life, he has it all.
Since we were little he always showed extraordinary capacity in everything , from reading at the age of one and a half years old, doing calculus in preschool, he even managed to have a good puberty, he is handsome in the eyes of any girl, he was popular in school and had genuine friendships that still last, oh and he knows how to get away in any situation with only words.
My parents were always so proud of him. "Julian is the perfect son" they always say.
Imagine living in the shadow of someone like him.
Since I was a little girl i was expected to do at least as good as him. But to my parents despair, I was never a genius, I always got mediocre grades, I am not beautiful and am not good at making friends, I was never able to make my parents proud.
Until last year, when i published my first book. After 3 years of trying to get it published, after many rejections , after many sleepless nights, after many tears, I finally got it published.
And for the first time in my life my parents were proud of me.
But around 3 months ago , at a family meeting, my brother decided that it was not good enough.
- "Anyone can write a good book, it’s the easiest thing to do, anyone can do it, i don’t get why you are all still happy for her " he said
- "Julian, writing a good book isn't easy! "
- "I'm sure it is, perhaps I should give it a try and show you how much easy it is?" he taunted me
- "Go ahead, try it! "
I’ll regret those words until the day I die.
Julian did it, he wrote a book, sent the un-edited version to a publisher, and it got imidiately published.
I’ll regret forever the day I told him to do it. Now my books will also live in the shadow of his.
Like I’ll live in his shadow, for the rest of my life. | 2020-03-28T13:34:58 | 2020-03-28T13:22:55 | 30 | 21 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a test has been created to eliminate 90% of the worlds population. You are the first to take this test. | I am in a small, white room. The room has only a simple metal table and matching chair, with a piece of paper, a digital clock, and a black box with two small buttons, one red, one green.
I take a seat at the table and flip over the piece of paper, which has nothing on the side facing up.
"In an identical room right beside this one is another human being. You will have 1 minute from the time you flip this page over to make your choice. Press the red button, and the other person will die, while you will live. Press the green button and you will die, while they will live."
I check the clock; my heart pounds. But I know immediately what choice I'm going to make. I let the seconds tick by anyway.
Finally, when I estimate there to be around ten seconds left, I press a button.
Nothing happens. I wait. Perhaps another minute, 30 seconds, I'm not sure.
Then a loud boom from somewhere nearby.
The door opens and a soldier steps in, reaches for my arm as if to lead me out.
"But...but no, sir, there's been a mistake. I pressed the green button!" I sputter frantically. "The green button!"
"Yessir, and he pressed the red one. Have a nice day," he says, practically throwing me out the front door of the building and into the bright sunlight. | I enter this small building , goverment type with barred windows and top notch security cameras.
"The room on the right" I am told.
Entering this cold room with one chair I sit.
"Should mankind be saved ?" says a voice over the intercom.
My mind is racing and my feet start to shake, as they normally do when deep in thought.
" I can come up with more reasons why we shouldn't, more than why we should."
The voice is silent for a good 5 minutes of absolute nothing. I await some horrible fate, maybe just a small pill? I think to myself.
I am so nervous waiting for some kind of response yet nothing...
It has been an hour now and I am getting more anxious , not because I want to know if I passed the test, but did the voice and everyone else die or was I already dead?
| 2016-06-11T08:44:26 | 2016-06-11T08:11:26 | 412 | 34 |
[WP] Your family line suffers from a pirate curse: A demonic shark will manifest itself in nearby sources of water and harrow you and your ancestors. You live three-hundred miles from any body of water and this has made the shark get...creative. | "And how did you find out about our organization, Mr...?"
The lab coat clad researcher lifted his eyes over the manilla folder with a few papers inside in an uninterested inquiry.
"Mr. Garner. And I heard about some weird things happening to other people, and then a lot of people dressed in military gear came to help, and this thing's been coming after my family for over a century. It's a problem. It's been getting creative, too. It somehow got a public works project to put a canal through my house. I was living in the middle of New Mexico at the time. I had to gather what little information I could from whispers, and rumors, and I finally found one of your outposts, and, well, here we are."
"Here we are indeed. Well, you're in luck. We have an entire brance of our organization dedicated to shark based anomalies. We will try to contain it, of course, but they're the specialists. This is all the information you will be given or retain from this conversation, or from your experience with you. Trust me, though. You're in good hands."
"Thank you so much. So... How do I get out of here? Just out the door and to the left, or?" Out like a light. When Mr. Garner finally came to in his home, a single piece of paper was in his hand. He had no memory of the past several months, but he had a feeling that that damned shark was finally taken care of.
Item Number: SPC-5837
Object Class: Great White.
Shark Punching Contingencies: The current protocol is to constantly have one punching agent follow the current targeted member of SPC-5837-A. If SPC-5837 appears, the punching agent is to approach for standard punching procedures.
Description: SPC-5837 is attracted through possibly anomalous means to the oldest member of the newest generation of the family designated as SPC-5837-A. SPC-5837 is impossibly old, and is incredibly reselient to punches, requiring several precision punches to deter it. Containment is difficult, as SPC-5837 is incredibly intellegent, and can transfer itself through any form of water, even if a grate or pipe is too small to logically fit SPC-5837. | I coughed a little at all the dust that came up from my family’s treasure box. Inside we’re a great assortment of different items. There was a sword, a clear bag that seemed to hold something sparkly inside, and my dads old diary.
Supposedly, it had started with my great great great grandfather. He had been a great pirate captain who fought battles with Indians and mermaids and fairies when the curse befell my family.
A shiver ran through my body just thinking about living life on the ocean.
I didn’t believe my father when he used to tell me the stories about my ancestors when I was a kid. My dad was a raging alcoholic who had been driven mad dealing with his many issues. He left when I was a kid. I didn’t understand it then but I sort of get it now. I sometimes see myself descending into that same darkness and have to catch myself before I spiral out of control.
My family is what keeps me together now. My wife is the reason I’ve been able to keep it together all of these years. She had been patient with me when I told her we had to leave our homes and move to the middle of nowhere. She had stuck by me when the curse had left me broken. Today she had surprised me by telling me we were going to have a son.
I grabbed the sword out of the box. I knew what I had to do. No longer would my family be hunted by the creatures of the sea. I, James Hook, would end the curse. I ran out of my house. I took a deep breath and one last look at the family I would never see again before jumping head first into the sharknado. | 2018-11-22T09:50:22 | 2018-11-22T09:25:56 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] Your older brother has been missing for years. You hear a knock on the door, and you open it to reveal a man that looks like your brother would be at this point. "I'm back man! I'm so sorry!" He hugs you immediately. Just then, you get a text from your brother's old number. "That isn't me." | You know how they say being a twin is like looking in the mirror? Well it is. I should know. As I stand with the door open, the snow storm screaming wind and ice on the front stoop and I stare at the face of a brother I thought lost forever. It was like looking in a mirror. He was my older brother, older by 7 minutes, but still.
Marcus had been missing for a decade. The last time I heard from him he was in the Air Force working on some new tech. He was always the smarter of the two of us, a genius they said. Then he was gone. Just gone. There was an investigation, the Air Force said he was AWOL. No evidence of force or violence, he was just gone. Now here he was, standing like a frozen mirror in my doorway.
"Marcus.... is that you?"
"Ah, Matt, it's so good to see you."
"Where have you been", I asked?
"Doesn't matter now. I'm back. I'm sorry I was gone for so long." He said. "Can I come in, it's freezing out here?"
"Damn, dude. Come in. Yeah, it's cold." I moved out of the way and he hurried inside. I slammed the door against the storm, *is it building to a blizzard? We haven't had one of those in a while, I hope not. I don't want to be stuck inside for a week again.*
I heard a faint buzzing sound. There it was again. *Am I getting a headache? This is so surreal. Marcus is here. Like a mirror. Is this a dream? Feels like a dream. Something sure is odd.*
**bzzzz**
*There's that buzzing again. What is it?*
**bzzz**
"Hey bro, I think that's your phone", Marcus says, snapping me out of my daze.
"Ha, you are right. Probably work wondering why I'm not in the office."
I pulled my phone from my pocket, looking out the window at my truck tires already buried in the snow.
**that isn't me**
I look at the contact, it's Marcus' old number. I look at Marcus, a smile on his face and realize why he looked odd when he was standing on the porch. We were twins, both of us have blue eyes. This Marcus' eyes are not blue..... | "What?!...wait..." I turn the phone to show David, but stop seeing the doorway empty - now framing only the front lawn where he was stood only moments ago.
"D...David..." I croak stepping tentatively onto the front porch, a hand held tight to the door frame. Gone.
Turning back inside, pressing the door closed tight behind me as the sound of the screen door slowly swings closed on its old rusted hinges permeates the silence.
The message!
Opening the phone and scanning the text again - "That isn't me..."
"so...so he was there..." Reading it again. "That isn't me..." Why would he just run off?
My hand reaches for the door knob then stops abruptly.
"That isn't me..." - message dated
02:02 Thursday 24th March 1996.
Scrolling back up through the messages:
17:30 - "I saw you David! Outside school! You know mom will kill you if you're arrested again!"
17:36 -"Bro relax. Thats not even me!"
17:37 -"I'm serious David, mom will kick you out if you're selling drugs again!"
17:44 -"calm down little brother she won't kick me out and I'm not doing anything illegal"
17:45 - "Stephen McEldray is telling people you sold him pills for a party. I'm telling mom!"
19:00 -"David I didn't tell mom. Please come home"
19:28 - "David call me back!!"
20:02 - "Answer our calls asshole!!"
23:12 - "David the cops have just turned up looking for you! 3people have gone to the ER because of some fake ecstasy tablets! They've got security footage of you selling drugs outside a club!"
01:04 - "ASSHOLE PICK UP YOUR PHONE!!"
02:02 -"That isn't me..."
They pulled his body from the canal 3weeks after... | 2020-07-23T13:24:09 | 2020-07-23T11:56:21 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] Write a story with a large, illogical plot hole, then have the main character discover it. | Mark shuffled through the desk's drawers searching for that vital piece of evidence. Who had killed his father? Who was the mysterious "X" who kept leaving him clues? Who had kidnapped his missing co-worker Elliot?
"Stand back and put your hands up." The shadow of a gun came from the darkness, making Mark jump. The voice was familiar. Who could it be? "Foolish Mark, very very foolish." The face was shrouded in silouette, only the shape of lips could be seen.
Mark took a deep breath. This must be it, this must be the man who killed my father. "Did you do it?" Mark pleaded. The face moved forward "Yes." Light struck the curves of his face. Mark gasped. "Elliot...but...you killed my father?" Elliot smiled. "Of course not. It would be impossible for me to have killed your father...for I *am* your father."
Mark's brow creased in confusion. "But you're only..." Mark paused to do the math on his fingers "...5 years older than I am. How could you possibly be my father!?" Elliot pushed the gun forward angrily. "Silence. Ok, I'm not your father...but I am the man who has been leaving you clues. I am X!"
With more confusion and an ever creasing brow Mark interjected "But...why would you be leaving me clues to find if you were the one who has done the crime? It doesn't make sense!"
Elliot's face went a dark shade of red. His cheeks shook. "I said 'SILENCE'" Elliot shot into the wall but it wasn't enough, Mark continued. "And why the hell did you go missing? Surely if you're the killer you couldn't have kidnapped yourself!"
The statement made Elliot cough and splutter. Suddenly he stopped. He'd had an idea. "Actually, I am but a figment of your imagination. **You** are in fact the killer. **You** are X. **You** are your father. It was all in your mind."
Mark shook his head "But what about that time when the killer was chasing me and **you** saved me by opening the office door?" A warm smile came across Elliot's face "That was all in your mind." Mark nodded. "So really...*you* don't have a gun in *your* hand. *I* have a gun in *my* hand?" The smile vanished, Elliot looked down to find his hand empty. The gun was now in Mark's hand.
Mark continued "And really...if I shoot you...I'm not really going to kill anybody since you're just a figment of my imagination." Elliot's hand shot forward. "Now wait a second, wait a second." With a nod of the head Mark allowed Elliot to continue, to try and save himself. Elliot shook his head slowly "You don't understand...you don't exist either. We're both the figments of somebody else's imagination. Somebody far greater than you or I. Neither of us exist really." Mark laughed "Don't play games, I know I exist. I have free will, I can do as I please." I think therefore I am, Mark thought to himself smugly.
Then I stopped writing the story and he was no longer. | Budd flew down the highway in his red camaro; he had been flooring it for several minutes now. His pregnant wife, bashmilda, was in the back seat taking hits of meth in between drunkenly firing rounds at the pursuing police.
'Drive faster!' roared bashmilda, 'who the fuck named you?!' retorted budd. 'Also, I cant drive any faster!'. Budd took a swig of whisky, extended his magnum parallel to the car, and unloaded. One of the pursuing cop cars burst into an inordinate amount of flames, despite not being anywhere near to parallel to budds camaro when he unloaded his gun.
Budd pulled off the highway with at least 150 cop cars tailing quite closely, and screeched into the nearest seven eleven. A lone rookie officer, named Dave, was the only officer on the scene as budd hopped out of the car.
"Freeze!" yelled dave. Budd grabbed bashmildas wrist, drew his pistol, and ripped her closer, as if to use her as a human shield. Dave was too quick though, he had put a bullet through bashmildas head the second budd touched her wrist.
"WOAH! FUCK" screeched Budd.
"Yeah! fuck you hostage-taker!" said Dave.
"Is that how you handle hostage situations?" sputtered budd.
"I'm not really sure, we haven't gotten to that part in training" said Dave.
"Wait, so, you're not done with training, but you have a gun already?" said budd.
The other police were showing up by now. They formed a semi-circle around budd, crouching behind their cars and pointing various weapons at him. Budd knew this was the end, so he took a moment to say goodbye to his dying wife.
Bashmilda looked up at Budd, and budd at her. Blood was streaming slowly out of Bashmildas mouth, her eyes glittered as she weakly uttered "I love you Budd, I always have" She reached up to kiss Budd one last time. "That's great Bashmilda, but you've got a gaping bullet hole in your head, and I'm not really comfortable kissing you right now." said budd.
The police and the author were getting pretty tired at this point, so they riddled budd with bullets, gave dave a promotion, and stuffed a pair of handcuffs up Bashmildas vagina, presumably to handcuff the baby.
Budd awoke the next day with a bunch of bullet holes still in his chest. "That was fucking weird. Welp, guess I'll go back to selling meth"
The end. Fuck you. | 2014-05-25T19:42:11 | 2014-05-25T19:41:47 | 1,343 | 98 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear Omar,
I know, I know. The last thing you wanted was your obituary to read "...an Oakland Man." I was telling some of my other friends that despite the fact we'd only been close friends for something like a couple years, you were someone that I would've wanted in the groom's party when I eventually got married. I don't share feelings easily, but with you it always felt okay.
I've moved to LA. I left Rdio that October. You'll be happy to know that Darrell and Raquel have bought my old place. They actually stay in the room you were in; they've converted the master bedroom to a gym.
Oh right! I finally went to Coachella. Your father had expressed to me, with tears in his eyes, how happy you seemed from all of the pictures you'd taken on your phone. I couldn't stop thinking of you and how you were always so easy with everyone. Totally understand what you loved about the music festival scene, now that I've gotten a few under my belt.
I try to live my life the way you did: always enjoying the moment, truly! These days I also chastise people for texting while driving. I have to confess to checking my phone at lights, sometimes. The traffic is just so bad here.
Oh! Also, I don't know if you know this happened, but your brother, or was it a cousin? He got super proselytizy at your memorial service, and left a small stack of pocket bibles for everyone. Your father kind of yelled at him to stop after a little while... it was kind of awkward.
I had to unfriend you on Facebook, sorry about that. Someone in your family had taken to using your phone, and hadn't deleted messenger, so it would show you as online, and after a while I just couldn't take it any more.
I think that's it... Every year, around that time in April, memories come up; you were such a brilliant light in our lives, and we miss you, and will continue to miss you.
Your friend always,
kevin | Hey Em,
I'd love to say I've changed, I'm new, brag about things I've done. I'd love to say I've grown.
But you, with your disarming blue eyes, somehow always knew. You always knew when I was making things up, when I was caught in little white lies. You'd encourage some.
And I'd love to say how different I am, from when we last saw each other five years ago. We were excited when we met, we were kids; when we last saw each other, we were adults, we had grown, but we were still ourselves. But you never cared about words.
You cared about actions. You cared about us, about people, about how the coolest kids at the bus stop were still kids, waiting at a bus stop. My record shows I was the one with the loud mouth, insecure, but always willing to stick by anyone down on their luck.
After I left...after I went soul-searching, I took your advice to heart. I stopped saying how good I was, or how I changed. I showed it, from 2010 through today. I never did it for my ego. I never did it for pride.
I did it after some kids walked into my life, told me I was a jackass, and helped me change. I did it for the cool kids... the ones I cut ties with.
So...please. Let's meet up, chat about the old times, and see where things go. Let's let the chips fall where they may.
-M | 2017-11-05T22:20:06 | 2017-11-05T19:02:54 | 78 | 55 |
[WP] Your childhood bully once said you were nobody. Unbeknownst to him at the time, he had a reality-bending superpower. Now he's the world's strongest superhero, everyone calls him The Truth, because his word is the absolute truth... Nobody knows about his past, and Nobody will make him pay. | "Hey hey hey! Look who it is... the good ol'' truth" I walked forwards flamboyantly.
Samuel looked at me puzzlingly "Do I know you?" he asks, innocently enough. "Maybe, who knows. But I know you... Samuel."
"How do you know that name?" He shouts, seemingly with confusion, but undertoned also with the raw anger that comes out of the tantrum a baby makes when you first tell them no. You see, Samuel was no ordinary person. Samuel was the truth, and the absolute truth. He could've ruled the world, really. Thankfully he remains as smart as he was when he was but a child. Not smart at all. His superpower gives him full rein over the world and reality itself. If he says something that would be false, the world shifts and changes, throughout time, throughout space. Everything changes to fit his word.
If you, reader, were born with an intelligence greater than that of an ape, surely you could see the power he holds. And yet, he merely chooses to be some superhero vigilante, stopping crime in one city, in one country, in one continent. This specific part of the world, a mere city. He could say the word and create A universe. God took 7 days to create the universe. He could do it with the flick of a tongue.
But there's been a story going around... a legend of old, one lost to the ages... at least that's what I've been telling people. In reality it happened 30 years ago. You see, Samuel was not one to lie much as a child, but for his innocence in one aspect, came a sinister sadism.
Sadie was a happy girl, really. Living a simple life, enjoying her childhood. Unfortunately enough for her, she would soon feel Samuel's wrath.
After a terrible year of having her mind and soul thoroughly broken, Sadie would receive her greatest... gift, surprisingly, from her tormentor. Samuel would utter the simple phrase "You're nobody, Sadie."
In the exhalation of that breath, Samuel had finally done it. He'd not only broken Sadie's mind and soul, but also her reality.
Sadie. No, Not Sadie. The existence of Sadie had been broken, and like a phoenix from the ashes of this damned existence, Nobody was born.
Nobody is truly good, and Nobody is truly evil. Nobody knows everything, and Nobody is above the law. Nobody is stronger than The Truth.
"You're scared... aren't you Samuel?" Nobody muttered. "Because Nobody knows The Truth's past... And Nobody will make him pay."
Pardon my rudeness dear reader, I forgot to introduce myself. The name's Sadie, but you don't really have to mind me, I'm nobody. | ### Of Nobody's War
There exists a War that is difficult to know. It is not one of steel and blood, but of opposites and change. The War is the soul, every soul, in an eternal self-conflict of actuality. Few, very few, manage to break the cycle. To do so one must understand oneself, which is an arduous task on its own, and then cleanse oneself of all contrast. It is to embody a singular form, of which the greatest is the Good. The successful are enlightened. The rest are insignificant.
Truth isn't good, even though it is a good - a hero. There also those where good is absent - villains. It should be no surprise that these duals are, by rules brought through War, in endless conflict. Even death does not equate to breaking that cycle, for a soul is immortal.
This duality had existed since existence, it happens that only now am I knowing it. Remembering it.
Time moves. It's the one thing that is permanent, and absolute. I've gone through 22 years now in this state of none. During them, I've learnt of the War more so than those that exist, more so than even the enlightened. I recognise its essence, and realise its purpose. The greatest War is not of Good and not-Good, but of being and not-being. Of something and nothing. Of body and no body. Of not-I and I.
It was that conjecture, I presume, that did it. The insight that gave me both states. It was never done, to embrace both opposite forms instead of just one. For the first time since high-school, I saw light.
I was in Paris, the plaza was familiar enough. But the Tower was not there. Or, well, not how I knew it. What was once an engineering wonder had deformed into a steel sculpture of Truth.
I didn't even think the thought before I removed it. There were other things I had to change too. As have I, so shall this world know War.
========
A bit different than what I usually do, hope it made some sense. Crit very appreciated! | 2021-11-23T07:57:35 | 2021-11-23T07:21:05 | 57 | 27 |
[WP]You are an omnipotent god. Out of boredom you decided to live an ordinary human life vowing not to use your power. 15 years has pass and you have a 9 to 5 working for a major tech company. Your boss has been tormenting you for years and you have reach your limit | (This'll be a short one, but i liked my idea enough to jot it here.)--
"Joshua, pick up your feet! You're going to make me late!" Frank said, strutting down the busy DC street. Life, everywhere, hundreds of thousands of bits individuality walking and biking and driving and living around us as we walk, and i love ever single one of my creations. Except Frank. He has proven me otherwise. I have already made the decision to fix him today. Permanently.
Being omniscient does have its advantages, aside from becoming really good at acting surprised. In exactly 38 seconds, a semi truck's brakes will fail (not my fault) and it will just so happen to be driving down the street we always cross when heading back from lunch (also not my fault). I will, however, make sure Frank and I are there when it does.
"I swear, Joshua, I will FIRE you if I am late!" Frank said, walking backwards into the busy street. I run to catch up to him. Squeal of faulty brakes? check. Everyone else clearing the street? Check. Frank in position? Doubleche-
In my years posing as a mortal, I never felt pain when I did't want to. However, having a rusty chrome grill smush my meaty parts into multiple squishier meaty parts is still pretty jarring. Oh,but the look on Frank's face?
Priceless.
He'll have an internal crisis of morality and mortality, go home to his trophy wife and kiss her sincerely for the first time since they began dating, he'll begin donating to charities- a real Ebineezer Scrooge type 180 degree turnaround. Oh, oh, there he goes, pulling out his phone to call an ambulance, he-
"Carlotta? Yeah, i'm going to need a new secretary. Yeah, first thing tomorrow. Yeah."
F*** you, Frank. | Normally, you would think that I could 'Bruce Almighty' my way out of this one. Doing everything that pleased me without due consideration (or even thought for that matter). Well, Bruce didn't have to stick with the God-title forever. It is obviously, relentlessly infuriating, when you are commanded around by somebody whom you know to be infinitely undeserving of their position in the hierarchy. Even more so, when you created them yourself.
You come across numerous little episodes of comedic joy when you bear witness to similarly frustrated colleagues who swear on you that they would end that mediocre, hollow-headed dingbat. Amidst the hundred prayers booming in the mausoleum of your mind, there are spasms of little high-pitched 'I swear to God's that make crack you up at really inappropriate circumstances.
It became evident to me that I would not keep my vow intact for long with this maniac as my 'superior'. Although 15 years is as long as a yawn in my eternity, I don't intend to feel sleepy. I put on my best smile everyday and smiled at all the poop the primal monkey in him flung at me. Through all his debauchery and all his stupidity, all I did was smile. And then one day, he died at his desk having left a note, addressed specifically to me.
"ggwp."
| 2017-02-19T11:07:22 | 2017-02-19T09:17:00 | 43 | 12 |
[WP] All politicians must wear Nascar like uniforms showing the logos of who is sponsoring their elections. Everyone is shocked when the President of the United States makes a speech wearing a new uniform. It's all blank except for one logo. | Donald Trump stood up in the podium, annoyed at the last minute change of uniform. His usual Columbian suit now lay abandoned on the floor of his hotel suite, he wasn't planning on going back to the room at all afterwards, especially not with that dead hooker in the bathroom. He didn't bother to listen to the guy that told him about the new suit, not noticing the single large patch repeated several times across the fabric.
"My fellow Americans" he started his speech, hearing his fans screaming with ecstasy and pleasure at the thought of being pure blooded Americans, just like him. On the other side of the stage, Hillary made her way over to her podium, her fans cheering too as she smiled at them. She pulled her collar up a little to hide the lizard-people-scales beneath. Her uniform was similar to trump's, but differed in that it was covered in names that they'd had to computerise it, the names taking turns scrolling across her chest. 'LA FITNESS, LADYBOY ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA, LAS VEGAS TOURISM BOARD' the suit displayed alphabetically as she made her own opening remarks.
Donald Trump whispered into the microphone on his collar, asking the man that usually told him what to say as to why she had all those groups on her chest. Guy Fieri, sitting backstage, took a moment between writing buzz words and cheap similes for trump's next speech to look up. More names were flying across her chest, still on the L-words; LIZARD PEOPLE APPRECIATION GROUP, LIZ TAYLOR SOCIETY FOR LGBT LOOKALIKES... Guy held the microphone up to his lips. "Those are her sponsors" he explained, "the people that have paid her to stand for president".
Trump looked down at his own uniform. The single word sitting there became clear. "Pssst Guy!" He whispered "why am I being sponsored by Hillary!". Guy Fieri sighed, putting down his meatball sub. "We've been over this Don, it's so that she's guaranteed the win". | As she steps up to the stage, people are proud that she is proudly proclaiming who her sponsor is but even though it cover her from head to toe, no one can make out just exactly what it is. As she is making her acceptance speech, the camera zoom in closer to her uniform to see who her sponsor is that she would be so proud as to wear such a large logo. Even though the camera has zoomed in all the way, no one can quite make out what it is.
After four years of her, the dystopia nation once called the United States of America is in a state of civil war with States fighting to leave the Union to escape the crushing control of the Federal Government, who think that they know what is best for "the good of the people" and control the states with an iron fist.
After the Freedom Fighters capture Washington D.C. and the President of the United States, they also find the uniform that she wore during her acceptance speech. Upon closer inspection with a microscope, they came to realize that what was thought of as one logo was in fact a composite of trademark and patented logos belonging to Corporations, flags of Foreign Nations, Coat of Arms and names of the rich and/or powerful.
During the hearing to determine the truth of her Presidency, her cabinets official plead ignorance and her disposition was pages after pages of, "At this point, what does it matter?" And, "I do not recall," and, "I do not remember." | 2016-09-19T18:37:32 | 2016-09-19T18:22:35 | 35 | 23 |
[WP] You have been blessed with immortality and are the greatest warrior, but 1000 years ago, a witch cursed you for killing her daughter, making you unable to wield a blade again. Fortunately, guns were invented, and now you’re back in business. | "Really? That's it?"
The warrior said, dawning a confused look.
"What...? What do you mean?"
He folded his arms, rolling over the information in his head before laying it out for the decrepit hag.
"You gave a huge speech about this curse you were going to lay upon me, waved your arms around and created some crazy light show... and now you're telling me the curse is that I can no longer hold a blade?"
A sly smile crept across the witch's face.
"That's right! Now, even with all of your otherworldly power, you can do nothing to stop me or my armies! We will ravage the lands and lay siege to any kingdom we cross! The world is as good as ours!"
She cocked her head back and began a long, maniacal laugh, clearly unaware that the warrior's expression had not changed.
He reached over his shoulder, removing his shield and strapping it to his arm, and taking firm hold of the handle to confirm his suspicions. Noticing that the witch was still deep in her self-serving laugh, the warrior quickly reached in to his pack and drew from it a two foot long metal club with a fine leather handle. In one swift maneuver he lunged across the room and struck a vicious blow to the witch's head, caving her skull in and sending her to the floor in a heap.
The warrior had accomplished what he set out to do; vanquish the evil witch. Despite this, he couldn't help but feel some degree of disappointment in how things had turned out. His primary motivation for the adventure had been her demise, that much was certain. But secretly, he had also gone in search of a challenge. The tales told of the witch, as well as the remnants of her victims had led the warrior to believe he had finally found the battle he had been searching for ever since he was given his powers. He had built up in his mind how the fight would go. The two would trade blows for hours until only one remained. He was ready and excited to be pushed to the limit, only for her to completely fall flat.
"I can't believe she forgot that blunt weapons exist."
Note: Sorry I know this doesn't exactly follow the prompt but it was the first thing that came to my mind and I wanted to get it out XD | I had left my killing days behind. I had settled down and married the most beautiful woman in the world. No longer was I the greatest warrior there ever was. I had done it once before. Thousand years ago. Although not by choice. After all, a sword cannot block a curse.
For about a thousand years, I could not wield anything with an edge, and blunt weapons were just not elegant. But these guns, they were just perfect. As long as I didn't attach a bayonet, I was fine. I had found the loophole.
I was unstoppable. There was no target I could not get. Mobster sitting inside a windowless room, no problem. Dictator surrounded by an army, easy. And president sitting in an open roof car, that's just child's play. I had helped build the Russian mafia their empire in New York. I had left it behind. For the love on my life. But life had something else for me. Once again by a curse I could not stop with my weapon. Cancer. It took Helen from me.
As I sit in my basement, I pickup the sledgehammer. I start hammering the floor. With each strike, my rage doubles. He should not have done this. The two most prized possessions, taken from me. The car can be repaired, but the dead cannot be brought back. Anyone who stands in my way to get to him will face vengeance.
They will know why they call me, Baba Yaga.
They will know what it is like to kill the dog of **John Wick**. | 2021-01-01T14:39:46 | 2021-01-01T13:56:08 | 434 | 89 |
[WP] The nightmare has come true; you've woken up back in sixth grade with your memories and knowledge of everything that happened since then intact. You start staring at your classmates around you, aware of how they end up. Your teacher asks you what's wrong as you start weeping. | I don't know how to answer Ms. Walulak. I stare at my best friend of the time, who ends up in jail for selling serious drugs just after we graduate. His little brother in just a couple years will end up giving someone else brain damage during a school fight, I don't know where he ends up, but I can't imagine it's good.
My bully is giving me his shit eating grin that he gets whenever someone else is in trouble. I almost want to laugh at him, he ends up joining the military and dying while home on leave. He was doing wheelies on his motorcycle and fell. I don't recall what state he was in, but he wasn't wearing his helmet. Fucking idiot deserves it.
The nerd, Mike, that eventually becomes my friend seems too busy with his work to notice me freaking out. I know now it's probably because his mom died of cancer a few years back and he's still recovering from the heartbreak. The dog she have him dies sometime during middle school, which is like losing her all over again. When his dad does remarry his new wife forces Mike to pay rent. He works two jobs from 16 until he's in his early twenties, he never finished school. His stepmom has a heart attack during an accident, and I cried more than he did. His dad remarries a few years later to a rich woman and things actually feel right for him.
The teacher's son is a few seats over, him and his best friend die a few years after graduation when his friend drives drunk. The older brother of my sister's best friend gets paralyzed in that crash, attempts suicide but fails.
I'm wearing my football jersey, the captain of the team dies freshman year of college, he was walking on train tracks with some friends and died after pushing someone else out of the way. He is religious, so I hope he ends up in heaven for that shit.
And then there's me. The real reason I'm crying is because my body feels whole. The disease that has been eating away at me is still here, as it has been since I could remember, but it doesn't hurt so much. The machines are gone. I don't feel pain at every motion, and I can't believe the relief. Everyone here goes through such hell, but I'm alive again. Will I relive these next 17 years over and over again? I'll lose my virginity, get a degree that won't do me much good in the 3 years of life I have after it. I marry the woman of my dreams on one of the last days I'm able to walk. She reads to me and plays with every day while I'm in hospice. I can't wait until the day I meet her, sitting in fairie wings a month before Halloween chatting with some friends. I can't wait until we fight and make up so many times I think I'm crazy. I'm afraid of watching my father race me to death while he goes senile, but I remember I get more time with him now, the real him before he becomes a shell.
I want to help my friends live, and live happy lives-but I'm just going to focus on living my own life to the fullest. Just like I already did. | “Tim? Tim are you, uh...”
Miss Lewis was concerned, but more than that she young. And pretty. Ms. Lewis is fresh out of grad school, the apple of every boy’s eye; Tim remembers her obituary. Next year, Ms. Lewis becomes Mrs. Akima. Nine years later, Mr. Akima catches Mrs with another man and Mr. Akima, a police officer, will pull his service weapon and shoot her in the head, followed by her lover and finally himself.
And there was more. Every memory that seemed buried or burned away by years of bong rips and dropping X came flooding back. Weekends at grandmas, bullies cornering Tim in the hallway, first kiss, first blowjob (first premature ejaculation). In the midst of it, Tim had a distant, amusing thought: “You remember that Stephen King movie where the kids forgot about the evil clown that haunted them?” On the heels of that, Tim suddenly remembered the real life clown that was stopping by today.
Tim shot to his feet and ran to the windows, or he tried to; there were about 30 desks filled with kids in the way, and Ms. Lewis too. She blocked his way and he almost collided with her, but still tried to run past in a last ditch effort for the windows. Over Ms. Lewis’ shoulder, a tuft of red puffy hair bounced into view.
Some kid yells out innocently, “Hey, a clown?”
Tim’s eyes widen in horror. “Oh fuck, that’s not a clown! Look away!”
But it was too late, a 12 year old girl’s scream pierced the air and drowned out Tim’s futile warning. A second later everyone else saw and joined in chorus, crying and yelling and a few shitty kids laughing.
The “clown” was just a homeless guy. Tall, lanky, bad crackhead skin, with actual patches of ginger hair poking under the dime store wig. His balls were ginger too, lobster red from him scratching them all day. His pubes were gray. But his dick, long and pulsing, dancing in a helicopter swirl as the clown spun his member around for all the kids to gander. No one could hear him, but it looked like he was singing.
Ms. Lewis ran with Tim to the windows to shut the blinds but now the kids were crowding the aisles and the journey was impossible. Ms. Lewis dashed out the room for the campus safety officer.
Just then, the clown bent over and spread his asshole. Someone ran out and told Ms. Lewis they’d need the janitor too. | 2019-08-18T08:32:12 | 2019-08-18T07:55:59 | 56 | 16 |
[WP] "I used to live on Earth..." | "I used to live on Earth. . ." said the old man, running a finger down his forehead; as if to stimulate his memories. "It was a concrete hell. Great metal blocks lined up with each other, the sky made of smog so thick the night was endless."
I shift in my seat, turning my gaze towards him. Normally you would ignore the drunkard's talking to themselves, but I had a curiosity. Being fortunate enough to be born on Jupiter, I never had to witness the blistering shit-hole known as the Smog Planet, 'Earth'. I lean in towards the old man, taking care to not fall off my stool in the process.
"How did you get out?"
The geezer turns to face me, his pitch black eyes staring into my soul. "I worked in the Eternal Furnace since I was a young lad. My father and my fathers before me had been Burners, day in, day out. We shoveled dirt and coal and rotting shit into the fire that never stopped burning." He gives me a toothless grin as he downs the last of his drink
"Tell me, boy. How old do I look?"
I shuffle nervously in my chair. Loaded questions never end well. Averting his gaze, I give my reply. "At least eighty. . . sir." His lips tighten at my response. If he had teeth, he would be furiously clenching them right now.
"I am only twenty-six. But I lived a lifetime in that furnace." He spat out his words with malice, hopefully not at me.
"How did you get out?" I ask the question once again, the desperation in my voice evident.
He looks up at me, eyebrows raised. "What's it to you?"
"I need to find my Father."
| "I used to live on Earth..." Jack drunkenly mumbled into his glass. "It was paradise. There were trees, and water, and people! Not like you pieces of alien shit."
The bartender reached across the bar and gently pried a half empty glass from Jack's limp hand. Jack made a half-assed attempt to retrieve the glass and barely managed to string together three words before passing out.
"Hey... I wasn't..."
When Jack came to, the bar was nearly empty save for a few late night stragglers. Or was it early morning? Jack couldn't tell. The haze of alcohol made it incredibly difficult to see the watch that rested on his wrist. Not that it would do much good here anyway. It was just another relic from a world gone by.
Jack slowly lowered his head back onto the bar. He figured now was as good a time as any for a nap. As the darkness folded over him, lulling him to sleep, he mumbled to himself, "I used to live on Earth..."
| 2015-01-28T06:10:42 | 2015-01-28T05:04:46 | 47 | 12 |
[WP] The knight closed in on the mage, his victory all but assured, as in the time it would take him to cast another spell he would already... !!!BONK!!! "Seriously, how you knights don't notice the 2m long stick in my hand is beyond me..." | The knight edged forward carefully, keeping his footing balanced. The fog swirled around his sword as he leapt forward to strike the mage before they could call forth another spell. As he swung, he was blinded by a bright flash from the mage and found himself on the ground with a throbbing skull.
"Did you not see the six foot stick I was carrying?" The mage stood over him, pinning his sword hand to the ground with their staff. The knight felt a creeping paralyzation preventing his movement.
"Dirty mage. You can blind and paralyze me with your spells but my pure heart gives me the strength of ten men!" The knight's heart was not particularly pure. His breath was definitely not pure, still smelling of last night's ale. His skin was decidedly not pure. It was worse than the breath. He hadn't bathed in several days and his armor could probably use a few days of airing out.
"I didn't use any spells on you. A stick to the head is blinding enough. Also I'm not a mage. I'm a monk. See?" The mage pointed at their neck. "My robe has a hood. Mages wear hats. Well— some monks wear hats, but they look totally different from mage hats. Did they not teach you any of this in knight school?"
The knight sat up on the ground as the monk stepped back. "Um— I went to night knight school. Most of the time was spent on swords and dragons and damsels. They mostly just covered the robes aspect on mages. With this magical fog I just assumed..."
"Yeah, this is normal fog." The monk leaned down and held a hand out for the knight, pulling him to his feet. After checking his eyes for concussion, they helped dust off the knight's armor. "Did this armor belong to your great grandfather or something?"
"No, I bought it from the school. Well— leased it. I still have to make the last twelve payments. It was expensive, but they said it was essential for all new knights to have proper armor. I'll make back the money with the first dragon I slay."
"This part on the back isn't even metal. It's just painted wood. A dragon will go right through that." The monk knocked their staff against the knight's backplate, giving off a dull thud. "If anything the paint makes it more flammable."
The knight squared up his shoulders and stood tall, wincing only slightly when his neck straightened. "All the more reason not to turn my back on a dragon. Besides, they said it was enchanted. NOT by a mage. By a wizard. An enchanter wizard. The kind with a cape."
The monk scowled. "How much exactly did you pay this school?"
The knight hesitated. "The payment was minimal. I mean— for a rich knight it was practically nothing."
"How much?"
"It's not like I still needed the farm if I was going to be a knight."
"Let me get this straight. You gave up your farm. They gave you a couple weeks training, this crap armor, a sword—"
"The sword was actually extra."
"And sent you off to kill dragons?"
"Well, yes. There aren't many dragons around here so they suggested I start by killing mages."
The monk leaned on their staff. "Alright, now that I have a problem with. You're going to take me to this school and I'm going to have words with them."
"But the headmaster is a Grand Knight. Why would he listen to a monk?"
"Monks don't have staffs, you idiot."
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\] | Zinon Pastour held his enchanted, holy blade aloft, calling down a divine blessing in time to block the explosive force of a fireball. Kazimir the Vile sneering at his most recent deflection of a spell meant to kill. The holy avenger brought his shield up, preparing for the final stage of his plan to topple the mage. He has meticulously kept track of the spells used against him. Counted the effects, and mathed the limits of the mage’s power. He had come prepared to fight by way of attrition.
And he was winning.
His stance goaded Kazimir into a longer spell cast. A notoriously dangerous and high level incantation Zinon had spent a year learning about. Now was his chance.
He summoned all of his energy into a burst of speed, propelling him forward with divine wind at a blinding pace. Victory was at hand as he began his sword swing.
His look of confusion as the mage shifted his grip on the staff he held, had little time to set in. The mage twisted it as though it were a lance, driving the blunt tip into the plates covering Zinon’s belly.
Time seemed to stand still as a short hollow “bonk” sounded at the initial impact. However, that all too brief instant was shattered as the intense sound of crackling electricity turned and emitted a bolt of lightning straight into his gut, burning a hole through the plate and his innards.
Zinon was thrown back across the large chamber, his weapons lost and scattered as he came to a rest on the marble floor, coughing and knowing he was breathing his last. He looked up to see the mage approaching in flowing scarlet robes, seemingly untouched by the raging battle that has just ended.
“I applaud your preparation.” Kazimir started, his tone respectful. “It would have worked against a lesser mage. But know that you are not the first to attempt such a great feat.”
Zinon coughed, “But how? You had no time to switch spells during my charge!”
The mage smirked. As he took a few more steps, his robes faded in a burning light, once it was gone, heavy plate and chain mail covered the caster. The glamours hiding his true assistance having been released.
“I can’t blame you for not knowing, since there is not a living soul that knows a war mage or their abilities.” Kazimir leaned over the broken husk of a holy avenger. “My staff holds spells, waiting to be discharged in an instant for just such a circumstance. But had I not been so well trained, your sword would not have found flesh.”
Zinon struggled for his last breaths, he has been defeated. “Someone will defeat you.”
Kazimir stood, laughing lightly, “Maybe. But that someone is not you.”
With a quick incantation, Zinon was but a memory. Kazimir the Vile looked through his damaged throne room and sighed.
“Hopefully his sword sells for enough to the next hero to cover the repair bill.” | 2022-02-03T09:13:42 | 2022-02-03T08:55:20 | 222 | 55 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | "Okay, the army's coming toward you. What do you do?"
"I tell everyone to hide, then I open the front gate. Is that good for a bonus?"
"A bonus for what?"
"Bluff."
The DM stared at the Bard. He opened his mouth to speak, but the Rogue spoke for him.
"You can't be serious."
"I am."
The fighter chimed in, "How do you expect this to work against an *army?*"
The Bard merely shrugged, and continued his description. "I'll climb to the lip above the gate and begin playing my lute."
"You hear the footsteps of the army approaching," the DM was rolling dice behind a screen, glancing warily at the Bard.
"I keep playing."
The Wizard panicked. "I go to close the -"
"Leave it open," the Bard interrupted.
The DM wanted nothing more than to wipe the smirk from the Bard's face. "You see Lu Bu in the distance, leading a host of a hundred thousand."
"I roll perform." The dice clacked against a still wooden table. Not the best roll, but the dulcet tones of the lute still echoed well through the thick forest.
Ahead, the army stopped. Appraising the situation. Discerning the motive of the Bard on the balcony.
"Okay, Bard. Roll bluff." The DM was hunched like a cat behind his screen, ready to pounce.
One roll in front of the screen from the Bard. One roll behind the screen from the DM.
The true testament of will came on part of the DM, who, despite careful maneuvering over the length of his campaign, despite his bonuses, his banners, his buffs, turned his army back through grit teeth instead of flipping the whole damn table. | “Use your musket!”
“Roll! Roll! Roll!”
“Shut up Winston!” Joseph screamed. They were surrounded. Joseph couldn’t do anything. His army was crippling.
“They’re ill!” screamed Winston, disturbing Joseph once more.
Joseph was again looking at the board inquisitively.
“you have 30 seconds to make a decision.”
He wracked his brain but couldn’t think of anything.
“Fuck it. What do i have to roll to surround the city?”
The party was dumbfounded. They were all far, far away but still could scream at Joseph’s stupid decisions.
“You fucking idiot!” The party screeched.
“Make an intelligence check then an athletics check for your army.”
Roll.
“16. Plus modifiers that’s 18.”
“Correct. that’s a success. Roll for athletics.”
Roll.
“NAT 20!”
“You surround the city with 2 million men.”
The Dm rolls a few dice and curses.
“The opposing forces surrender in fright. Congratulations, you have successfully defended Stalingrad, Stalin.” | 2018-05-29T07:11:07 | 2018-05-29T06:15:55 | 1,810 | 209 |
[WP] "The light can never go out," explained the old lighthouse operator. "Ships don't need us. Haven't in quite some time. It's the people here on land who'll suffer if that light ever goes out." | "Why's that?" I asked with curiosity. The old lighthouse keeper leaned back in his chair and chewed on his pipe. He turned his gaze to the small window beside him. In the distance the long, bright beam of light kept it's silent vigil in the dark, rotating slowly as rain pattered against the pane.
"They're blind. Simple as that really" he said, his gaze still focused on the window.
"Blind? As in they can't see?" I asked.
"You could say that I suppose. They aren't blind physically of course, I mean they have eyes and can see you and I and the world around them, but they're still blind all the same."
"I'm not sure I follow" I said.
He turned his head back to face me again, still chewing on his pipe, though by now I expect whatever he'd been smoking had fully burned away.
"Well... now, how do I go about explaining it? Have you ever experienced moments when you're alone yet you're certain someone is behind you; only you turn and find nothing but darkness? Or perhaps you've had those odd moments where maybe you don't quite feel you are who you are; almost as if a bubble had formed round you and then popped, jolting you back to the here and now?"
"I suppose so" I answered slowly, considering it "though I imagine everyone experiences something like that now and then."
"Precisely" he answered, removing his pipe and tapping the ash onto the floor. He heaved his feet out his boots and rested them on the footstool in front of him.
"The light from this lighthouse keeps those who'd wish to cause mischief from doing so. They appear as curious sensory oddities to us because we're ignorant to the world they live in. But every now and then our two universes sort of... brush elbows if that makes sense. Just here they're a bit closer. Like two people sitting next to each other on a particularly bumpy bus ride."
"There's a universe beyond our own?"
"Oh yes, millions of them. Not all are as wildly fantastic as the one round here but none are totally alike."
I leaned back in my chair, suddenly aware of how hunched forward I had been, listening to this curious old man. He surveyed my face with an impish grin on his own, as if he were seeing how far he could spin me tales of other universes and the creatures that inhabit them.
"So, if there are more universes or worlds, and they can brush against and coinhabit the same space as our own, why is this area so special as to require a lighthouse to protect it?" I asked while my head threaded together everything I had just learned.
"Well, it wasn't always like this round here. I guided ships in the night just as any other good lighthouse keeper would do but there hasn't been a ship in these waters for a good few years, what with their fancy new navigational techniques. I suppose it was just too dangerous to continue passing through here."
"Yes, but what of those who'd wish to do us mischief? Why does the light keep them at bay?"
He shrugged his shoulders half-heartedly, obviously wondering the same.
"I don't know. I know that seems an unsatisfactory answer and I do apologise. I just know that should that light go out, it would lead to all sorts of trouble."
At that moment, as if on cue, the light that had been slowly rotating in the rain filled night, went dark. | "The light can never go out," explained the old lighthouse operator. "Ships don't need us. Haven't in quite some time. It's the people here on land who'll suffer if that light ever goes out." He took a sip of his beer.
I didn't quite understand him, I just stared as we sat by the cliff, darkness enveloped the sky and darkened the rock, a moment of passing light from the tower would bring colour for a brief fleeting moment. The sounds of waves crashing against the cliff was soothing and yet a reminder of what lay below.
"I don't understand," I said, frowning, he simply stared onward as he took another sip, he stared into the vastness of the dark sea, its waters momentarily glistened like a drape of silk by the passing light.
I heard footsteps, barely able to hear them over the sound of the crashing waves, I looked up, dark silhouettes appeared over the cliff above, people from the town further in, more and more of them came, but none together, all alone and all silent, none acknowledging the others existence.
Many brought blankets, some just a drink, none looked at each as they sat down, just looking onward, just onward across the endless abyss as the lighthouse would momentarily illuminate the cluster.
"The people in this town wake up everyday and do what they do everyday," the lighthouse operator said, chipping away at the paper wrapped around the beer bottle, "at night, they simply come here in unison, but alone, some come because of stress, some because they are tired, some because they are angry, whatever their troubles, it does not matter, nor does anyone talk about it, but they are told to follow the guiding light to find their way, and so they sit there, for hours, quietly, whatever their problem is, and then they go home, and see the same people they saw the night before with smiles on their faces like nothing happened," he continued, half talking to himself, his eyes were pits of sorrow, regret had drilled it way inside, nested, and made those eyes empty shells of what once was happiness, "but here, here is the one place where time stands still, here is the one place, they can escape from their bubble and nothing else matters, as the light guides them into sanctuary."
I became silent, I didn't know what else to say, "you have to let me go," the words were sour in my mouth, melancholic and filled with regret, tears draped down the old wrinkles on the mans face, he took another sip with trembling hands, trying to muffle his sobs.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, they were the final words we shared, as he sat there alone, the child who he would see every night, once more gone, all that was left was guilt and quiet sobs. | 2017-02-22T12:12:43 | 2017-02-22T08:57:52 | 28 | 15 |
[WP] The year is 3000, only people with the firmest hand shake could survive in the business world. Years of evolution has made human grip terrifying. | "The Japanese are taking over the entire international market!"
"Which one?"
"*All of them.* We'll lose our hold in crush-proof phone manufacturing at this rate!"
"But, but how can that be? They've been regionally locked for decades relying on exports from us!"
"A... a catastrophe sir. I, I'm not sure how to explain this---"
"Find a way damnit, our enterprise into the east Asian region is at stake!"
"... Not just that sir."
"What could be more important than losing our expansion? We've been planning this for decades!"
"I know sir."
"Do you have *any* idea how many hands I've crushed to get here?"
"I do sir."
"Oh stop babying your hand, it could have been worse. Now tell me, what could be more important than the biggest move by *any* corporation in the global economy?"
"..."
"Speak up man I can't hear you."
"Our entire company."
"*WHAT*?"
"*All* the assets of the company will fall under the Japanese in... about 10 minutes."
"How?? How can that *be??*"
"Because the head of the conglomerate is on his way. To, seal the deal."
"We'll have to see about that. There is no one I haven't beaten!"
"The same could be said for him as well sir."
"Very well. I must prepare myself. His name?"
"President... Saitama, sir."
"Hm, the name's familiar. I'll be ready to receive him shortly."
"Of course sir."
"Please, I told you to call me Clark. Mr. Kent if you must."
"Sorry... Mr, Kent, sir."
"We'll have to work on that once I'm done with this Saitama. Mark my words, this will be the deal that will make our hold in this economy all the stronger!"
"I'll look forward to it sir."
"Yes! We'll make this Saitama *old* news."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
More at r/galokot, and thank you for reading! | Spindly fingers, thorny palms, cracked skin.
A nasty concoction of grip that would make eating and climbing simple, but touching ultimately revolting. If one were to play with your hair it would get cought in one of the many holes penetrating the entirety of the hand, easing use under water. If you went to high five someone, make sure your bones are aligned because easily destroy able and repairable bones made dare Devil acts easier.
So, as it were, big business would lose one of its trademarks, the handshake. Only the bravest and strongest stomached people would even there in attempting the orgy of disgust and body horror that was the handshake. Although painless, the mere sensation of hands, spikes, and holes combining would put a seem like an eternity of discomfort and disturbance. As a result of this, not only would you have to be willing, you'd have to be thick skinned on multiple levels to get a grip.
On this day however, I was about to agree to a multi quadrillion dollar investment with Russ Bhked clothes manufacturing. Needless to say, I was excited.caught in the moment, I extended my hand in an ancient jesture of respect. He winced back, not knowing what to make of it. I noticed my hand and put it away embarrassed. He laughed, "this is why we use tissues AND fleshlights kid"
(It's 12 in the morning, it ain't gonna be pretty or good) | 2016-02-14T20:14:35 | 2016-02-14T19:35:37 | 371 | 18 |
[WP] You just realized you're God. You had gotten so tired of being the most powerful entity in existence, that you chose to forget yourself and live a human life, just for the sake of having a new experience. You've played long enough now, and you decide it's time to wake up. |
Weird things started happening in the weeks prior to my birthday.
It started with dreams. Whenever I closed my eyes I saw the world spinning below me. I could zoom in and out, observe what happened anywhere around the globe. From up here, I could see the turning of the tides and the changing of weather patterns. When looking closer, I could watch people and animals go about their lives. Sometimes I even managed to influence what was happening.
At first, I put it down as very vivid waking dreams but, looking back, I was lying to myself. These dreams felt too real and the memory of them wasn't shrouded in a haze of fog after waking up either. I remembered everything about them and I didn't like what I saw. The world in my dreams was going downhill.
Then I started seeing angels. Again, at first, I didn't believe what was happening to be real. I thought I might be going insane, that the angels were mere hallucinations, just figments of my imagination playing a cruel joke on me.
At midnight on the anniversary of the day of my birth, the angel appeared in front of my bed and spoke to me.
"Hello, God. Are you ready to return from your *vacation*?" the angel didn't manage to keep the derogatory tone from his voice. "We need you back in heaven, your substitute is not handling the responsibilities all too well."
"What is happening?" I asked only half listening. I was confused and getting more certain by the minute that I should be in a mental facility rather than at home in bed.
"Oh right, the memory block." The angel raised his hand and snapped with his fingers.
The knowledge flooded me. I wasn't insane, I was God. This was the 2019th time Gabriel and I had this conversation. Every time I had put him off. "One more year, Gabriel," I would tell him and replace the memory of the conversation. Usually, I stayed in the same body, only transferring to a new one at the end of its life cycle.
"You've been responsible for the dreams, haven't you?" I asked the angel hovering in front of me.
"We are. We needed to show you," an image of Earth appeared in his outstretched palm, "your chosen ignorance of the world at large is letting everyone suffer. You need to come back. The world needs you ... we need you. Your son just isn't doing as good of a job as you did."
The body I was wearing started to crack, blinding light escaping from within. "Fine," I sighed. I took this vacation because I was sick of having to manage everything, but I couldn't ignore what was happening anymore.
"Fine, lets head back upstairs and see what we can do about this mess. I just need to take care of one small thing before we go."
Thunder rumbled and a flash illuminated the clear night sky. By pure chance, lightning had struck a now deceased co-worker of mine. Well, good luck to whichever scientist tries to make sense of this stroke of unlucky fate.
Guess I am a petty god, after all.
*****
r/John_writes | Before all else, I go take a nap, which I use as a method to ascend to Heaven. All the angels are excited to see me back in the crib, but none of them get any more than quick waves hello.
I gotta see the boys.
I get to the center of Heaven, my throne room, and that’s where they are. Jesus and the Holy Spirit, chillin in their two smaller thrones beside mine. The Holy Spirit lets out a long “YEAAAAAAAH BOIIIIIIIIII” and runs up to me. We perform our special handshake, hug, and then dab.
I lock eyes with Jesus. My son smiles, and simply says “21 years away? You said you were just leaving to buy some milk, Dad. The traffic must’ve been insane, huh?”
I smile, and hug my son. I take a seat at my throne, and it’s just as comfortable as it was when I left. Seat warmer and all.
Its good to be the King.
“Alright fellas,” I utter, “lets fix this busted ass planet.”
I snap my fingers; Climate Change gone.
Jesus cracks his knuckles; All Nuclear weapons on the planet suddenly become useless.
Holy Spirit claps his hands twice; Racism annihilated.
But thats when Satan comes in, all pissed that i’m back in the hood. He brings a posse of demons, all of them doing some nasty shit that sure as heck aint gonna fly in my throne room. The Holy Spirit stands up, ready to throw down, but Jesus tells him to wait: Big Papa’s got this one.
“I look away from my crystal ball to go torture the souls of the Nazis for FIVE MINUTES, and you come back to the throne?!” questioned Satan, pulling out a glock pistol. “Nah! NAH! NO! I refuse to let this happen!”
Satan shoots a couple shots, but I catch them all in between my fingers easily: I created anime, so obviously I can pull off anime feats.
I flick them all back, one for each of his demons. They drop like flies, and Satan’s big guy facade drops real quick when he remembers just who the heck he’s dealing with: the original gangsta. He leaves, I laugh.
And then I snap my fingers, and a bottle of Fiji water appears in my hand. I sip my drink, and relax.
Its good to be back.
| 2019-04-05T07:56:09 | 2019-04-05T07:17:47 | 90 | 48 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | I was in the midst of cleaning, scrubbing at an extra tough stain on the floor, when I was distracted by some noise at the door. Not swearing - a lady should never take foul words into her mouth - I rose from the floor and the bucket of cold soap water whilst using the back of my hand to push some loose strands of hair away from my face.
A short few minutes later I was heading towards the hallway, or what I liked to think of as such: a long, narrow passageway lit by blazing torches - one must pay heed to traditions - causing shadows to dance on the rough walls and lending its dark corners an eerie touch. *Just perfect*, I mused, as always when passing though. *Just perfect.* There were few things as important as keeping up with appearance, people did expect one to live in a certain way and thus one must live up to those expectations. How else would the world look?
A loud banging on the iron-framed wooden door brought my attention back. *Oh. Right. A visitor.* A quick look down asserted that my dress was indeed free from stains and wrinkles and quite presentable, and my left hand quickly adjusted the tiara slightly.
“I have come to rescue thee, fair maiden!” the mustache adorned knight at the door cried as I opened it. “I have come to rescue thee and slay the dragon!” I sighed inwardly to the styling of his facial hair. Really, why did they *always* have to go for quantity over quality?
Taking care not to let any of those thoughts show of my face I let my lower lip tremble slightly as my eyes widened.
“Hush, please, or you’ll waken him from his slumber. Be quiet, and I will take you to him.” I motioned for him to follow me inwards along the tunnel with its flickering lights - *really, just perfect* \- slowly quickening the pace to give an air of necessary haste. Finally pausing outside the door at the end of the corridor I shot him a quick glance and pointedly nodded to his still sheathed sword. As he quietly drew it I let the door swing open and stepped aside.
“I have come to challenge thee, abominal beast!” boomed the knight as he entered the quiet room. I winced inwardly at his voice; why did they always feel the need to proclaim their objectives? What was wrong with a bit of serene calmness and quiet? A quite sigh escaped me as I put my left hand on his shoulder and the sharpened dagger in my right hand silently glided along his throat.
“I did tell you not to awaken Herbert”, I told him - quite sullenly - “he’s had a terrible night’s sleep and has been cranky all morning. I just finally managed to put him to sleep. But did you listen? No you did not.” I do not know whether he heard me, his body slumping forward before hitting the floor with a thud, but neither did I care as just then Herbert came strutting along the floor, his little wings flapping to help him maintain balance as he skillfully navigated around the sparse furniture in the room. I knelt and lifted him in my arms, letting his little split tounge playfully lick my cheek as I petted his scaled little head and his tail wiggled excitedly.
“Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy!”
*Oh dearie me*, I thought to myself as I suddenly noticed the now slow trickle of blood onto the floor where it had already spread in a large pool. *And just as I was just about to get rid of the old stains in the library.*
​
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*And here I thought myself to pretty decent in writing in English, guess this challenge set me right about that. Please bear with my typos, grammatical errors and overuse of commas (I do love a good comma!). First submission here, but hopefully not the last because omg how I have missed writing!* | Wood splintered as the wooden door was destroyed. The sound bounced off of all four walls, echoing up the tower, and back down. Aurora set down her fork and looked up from her lunch, hoping it was a freak accident from her soldiers training nearby.
Her eyes moved from her table to the breezy doorway and spotted a tall knight in green-gray armor, holding a sword straight out.
“I have come to best the dragon. I wish to save the princess, and marry her into my kingdom” he said in a gravelly voice.
Aurora thought that he may have sounded attractive and strong- had he not just announced he came to kill her best friend and force her into marriage. It wasn’t how any of it worked, and she was very worried for all the women that raised the heathens continuing to destroy her home.
“The dragon is in another castle, sorry,” Aurora said. She glanced at him for a moment longer before turning back to the table. She had only gotten a single bite into her pot-pie when the big strong knight had burst through her front door. She rolled her eyes now that he couldn’t see her. She was very tired of the whole thing.
“Excuse me? Are you the princess?” he asked.
Her irritation growing, Aurora turned back towards him. Her eyelids lowered and the corners of her mouth pulled downward. She saw that subtlety simply wasn’t going to work. Perhaps it would be cathartic to go straight through subtle, bypass polite, and go straight to abusive yelling. Surely horrid men didn’t have a monopoly on emotional rudeness.
She stood up and walked towards him, a beat in-between each footstep, for effect of course.
“I am the princess. This is my castle, and that was my door that you just destroyed. The *Dragon* is mine, and if you so much as touch a single scale on her perfect body,” Aurora reached the doorway where he stood, still. She was in spitting distance of him and began to poke at his plated chest as she spoke.
“I. Will. Hunt. *You.* down.” With the last word, she let her arm drop down to her side and took a step back. “Do we understand? Are we good? I’m kind of hungry and would like to finish my lunch.” She hoped he would hear her words and she could go eat. Her hunger was peaking and it wasn’t helping her anger any at today's intrusion.
The knight stood in her doorway. Although she couldn’t see his face through the helmet, she felt like she could still imagine the blank look upon it. He was thinking, and she thought she would start to smell smoke soon. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to get married if it meant being stuck with one of these types.
Another moment passed and he hadn’t moved or spoke. Aurora shrugged her shoulders and turned around. Walking over to her table she figured maybe she could get a few bites in before he tried again. She sat down and picked up her fork and heard a low murmur. He seemed to be getting closer to a decision, she thought. No worries.
At least these first few bites were still warm. She would enjoy it while she could, and if he persisted…Well, Perhaps the Sapphire was hungry as well.
***
/r/beezus_writes
9/100 for 2019
| 2019-01-09T10:18:32 | 2019-01-09T06:34:18 | 80 | 59 |
[WP] You sold your soul to the Devil some years ago. Today he gives it back and says, "I need a favor." | He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I need your help."
"Fuck you." The little old lady a few tables over glanced in our direction.
"Really? That's the best you've got?" He glanced around the coffee shop. The little old lady smiled at him, and went back to drinking her tea. He lowered his voice to a whisper - but a whisper that somehow echoed in my skull, louder than even his normal voice. "I'm the *DEVIL* man - I've spent all of eternity *torturing people* beyond the limits of mere flesh; beyond what your tiny mortal brain could ever comprehend. I've been made every promise, every threat or insult that a mortal mind can possibly conjure. 'Fuck you'? 'Fuck you' was passé millennia ago."
I let go of the table I'd unknowingly clenched. "Fuck you. Yeah, I know the words mean nothing to you, but fuck you all the same. It makes me feel better, so I'm go to say it as much as I fucking like."
He grinned, and sat back in his chair. He unbuttoned the jacket of his three piece suit, and looked at me expectantly.
It was my turn to lean forward.
"I was *five*, man - FIVE! What the fuck!"
His grin widened. "Hey, five year old offers me his immortal soul to know how to get past the pit on level three of *Snoopy* on the C64? Hell yeah, I'm going to take that deal."
"But I didn't know what I was doing! It wasn't f..."
The coffee shop melted away, as did the business suit and the human facade. The enormous red demon loomed over me, suddenly impossibly tall.
*"FAIR? FAIR?! IN CASE YOU FORGOT, I'M THE FUCKING* ***DEVIL!!!***"
And the coffee shop was back. The world was back. The Devil was back in his human form, pushing his greasy blond hair back with his hand as he slouched casually in his chair. The old lady was still drinking her tea.
I picked up my coffee to take a sip, but my hands trembled so much I had to put it back down. Fuck.
"Besides," he said, "it's not like you got nothing out of it."
"I can't even look at a computer! I can... I can *feel* the bits flipping from zero to one! Every damn time! Since I WAS FIVE! YEARS! OLD!!!"
The bell on the cafeteria door rang. I looked up in time to see the back of the nice little old lady who'd been sitting a few tables over as she was leaving.
I composed myself.
"You know what? Fuck it. Fine. What's in it for me?"
"Wealth. Power. Women."
"Fuck off. You know there's only one thing I want from you."
"Fine," he acquiesced. "You can have your soul back."
"So. What do you need, so you can leave me the hell alone?"
"I'm having this problem with my email..." He produced a laptop out of nowhere.
"You're fucking kidding me."
"No, really! Look, nothing new is coming in! And I can only see really OLD stuff. Do I have a virus? Or do you think I need a new laptop?"
Fuck it. I changed the Inbox order from 'Received Date (Ascending)' to 'Received Date (Descending)'.
*****
That night, I had the strangest dream.
I was floating in the clouds, looking down on the Earth. I was overcome by a sense of total calm, of peace. I guess this is what it feels like to sleep peacefully when you have a soul.
A brilliant white light illuminated the clouds, and I sensed a presence behind me. I knew I was no longer alone - but I was not afraid.
"So - you got your soul back?"
"Yes God," I replied. I don't know how I knew it was Him, but I did. I just... did.
"Good. Good." He hesitated awkwardly; insofar as it is possible for an infinite being that spans all of time and space to do so.
My serenity shattered. I *know* this; I've seen it before, far too many times.
"I don't suppose... Seeing as I'm already here..."
I turned, and looked directly on the face of God.
"I'm having some problems syncing my iPhone to my iTunes account..." | The first conversation I had with the devil was almost two hundred years ago. *You should know I'm the Prince of Lies,* he'd said. *But if we have a contract, I'll hold up my end of the deal. If I've signed it, I'm stuck to it.* He shrugged. *Rules.*
*Sounds too easy. And it's my soul,* I'd said.
He chuckled. *Yes, it does. And it is. Now, are you going to take the deal or not?*
It was about eighty years before I figured out why I said yes. And the answer is that I was prideful, and he knew it and he played me like a fiddle. He left it dangling out there: *Think you can outsmart me, boy? Go ahead and try. I dare you.* So I did. And it's a been a good life -- money, power, women. Whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it. But then it all started to pale, and I began to wonder about what I had traded away. A little doubt, gnawing at me for the better part of a century. Until tonight.
When the devil appeared to me a second time, he seemed desperate, almost babbling. *There's a ... it's a thing I can't do. I'm ... we're not allowed to interfere. Not directly. But if you did it, it would mean your soul. I'd give you back your contract. You could tear it up.* Then he handed me a pistol and a slip of paper with an address across town. *Tonight.*
*What, is he a saint or something?* I asked.
The devil shook his head. *Nothing like that. In fact, he's one of mine. I'll swear to that. A written oath, if you'd like. But ... things have been set in motion down below. I need to claim his soul before midnight.*
Twenty minutes. Not much time. I slipped the pistol into a pocket and sprinted to my car. Throwing the engine into gear, I raced across town at twice the speed limit.
Three minutes. I parked a block away, then ran up the front walk to the door.
A minute and a half. No time. I kicked the door open and stepped inside. In the front room, a rather nondescript man sat in an overstuffed chair. There was surprise on his face, but only for a moment. Then there was a mixture of sadness and acceptance. Then I shot him, and he died. A few moments later, a churchbell began to toll the hour.
And then the devil was there, a wide grin on his face. And I knew I'd been had, because he wasn't relieved. He was gloating.
I dropped the gun and sank to the floor. *This was all according to some plan of yours,* I said. A statement. Flat.
*Yes, quite,* he said, his voice dripping glee.
*I don't understand. Where did I go wrong?*
He snickered. *I never had your soul. Or at least, I didn't until about a minute ago. A soul isn't something you can buy or sell. It's yours until you lose it.* He paused, savoring the next word before letting it roll off his tongue. *Murderer,* he whispered, and was then he was gone.
I stayed on my knees for a long time, watching the blood trickle slowly onto the carpet. | 2015-05-12T14:20:56 | 2015-05-12T13:43:25 | 56 | 19 |
[WP] Google begins matching up people based on their search history in their new Google Dating program.
Edit: Wow, this got to the front page fast. | "Jesus."
After two years, there were still so many misconceptions about Google Dating---its origins, how it functioned. But that single phrase was how engineers remembered Sundar Pichai, Google's CEO, responding to an initial demonstration.
Social media success had been a goal for so long. The company had failed with Google+. It had flirted with buying Twitter. Google Dating provided an indirect path: It was not a direct challenge to Facebook, and it was far more sophisticated than the superficial processing of Match.com.
It was also lucrative: Targeting new lovers with ads was the lowest hanging fruit.
The algorithm that drove the matches, of course, was proprietary, protected with the same fervor as Google's core search algorithm. The two were tightly woven together. Search history offered a longitudinal view of its subjects. This included not merely present interests but vital historical details---the duration of passions, the themes of private browsing.
Google Dating engineers were always the most interesting guests. Everyone wanted to know how to land a billionaire or supermodel. "I'll see what I can do," was the easiest way out of those conversations. But it took work to suppress a wry smile. They really had no idea.
No idea that the algorithm saw straight through their transparent queries for "buy million dollar house" or "what to do with lottery winnings." No idea that the algorithm never forgot their guilty pleasures. No idea that users' conscious efforts served only a single purpose: to expose selfishness and desperation.
The best matches, internal research had shown, were built over years, before eventual lifelong lovers ever knew of each other. The algorithm mapped those relationships through the most casual queries. Time had the strongest correlation for success with Google Dating.
In Phoenix, an 11-year-old searched for "tips to make a paper airplane."
At his desk, a QA engineer for Google Dating chuckled. He turned to a coworker. "That's exactly how I met my wife." | Google started matching people up on it's new Google Date® by using their search history to determine who was a match for who.
Within days the project was shut down, and the person heading the project was fired. Although no personal search data was directly revealed, as the criteria for matches was hidden and determined on the servers side, there was still considerable uproar over it. Anyone with a Google plus account was automatically added to the program, so people were essentially added without their consent. And other people with Google accounts were able to see who they were matched with, so they were able to clue in to people's search results based on their searches and who they were matched with. The issue was rather small, and not many people had their very sensitive data revealed, as their fetishes and unusual searches were mostly done on computers without Google accounts linked, or done in incognito mode. And people's unusual searches were mostly drowned out by more matchable regular searches. And after all, nobody really could tell people that they suspected their match watched weird porn, because that would reveal that the only reason they suspected, was because they themselves watched weird porn.
So Google had a PR disaster, and a few lawsuits on hand. And like 1000 people now have a slight and hidden suspicion that the person they were matched on Google Date® watches weird porn. | 2017-05-25T13:39:39 | 2017-05-25T12:30:49 | 82 | 18 |
[WP] A dragon saves a knight from a princess | Sir Dwayne caught his breath as he stood at the mouth of the terrible volcano, Harbinger. As he stood on the edge he looked at his target, a great tower in the center of a fiery lake with only old rope bridge leading connecting it to the outside world. Sir Dwayne knelt and said his prayers to the Gods, for he knew he must be right with them; after all, this could be his last day on Earth. There were many tales about the great blight on this land, the fearsome dragon, Puff who raided many local farms, taking plants and animals from them. While a threat, this didn't become an issue for the King until he grabbed his daughter one time while she was visiting the town during a fair. The King called on the bravest knights of the land to answer the call and return her to him but only Sir Dwayne of the Holy Order answered the call and vowed to save her. And now, with his breath returned to him, he knew his destiny was upon him.
As Sir Dwayne made his way to the bridge he kept ever vigilant, for death lurked around every corner; this he was sure of. But it was quiet, much too quiet and he feared he was walking into a trap. It was said that dragons are intelligent beasts with a cunning and sadistic nature. But no danger approached Sir Dwayne yet, as he successfully crossed the shaking bridge to arrive at the entrance of castle. Suddenly, he heard it a roar in the bowels of the castle, great and powerful. *Groawwwwr*. Sir Dwayne repeated the holy incantations to himself then bravely entered this Evil Castle.
Every step he took it felt as thought the ground was shaking as Sir Dwayne grew more and more scared of this Demon sent forth from the God of Darkness. *Groawwwwr* He knew the scriptures as well as any in the order and knew the perils facing him. *Groawwwwr* May the Goddess of wind grant him breath, and the God of War grant him strength. And with his plea to the Gods Sir Dwayne entered the great chamber to face his destiny. In front of him was a giant, green, scaly, beast; hideous and horrifying at the same time.
Sir Dwayne bellowed out to it "In the name of the Kingdom and all the gods I will slay thee and rid this world of your terrifying presence!". Just then the giant beast turned to face him and Sir Dwayne gripped his holy sword and shield closer, ready to do battle.
*Groawwwwr, Groawwwwr, GROAWWWWR, Oh... that's so much better, had some cow stuck in my throat. Anyway, what's... what's going on?*.
Sir Dwayne was shocked at the beasts knowledge of their tongue but thought he could use the parley to distract the beast as he got a better vantage point. "I am Sir Dwayne and I was sent here, great and terrible dragon, to save the princess and right the world of your crimes."
*haha, what?*.
"Your crimes filthy bea...."
*I'm gonna level with you right now, I am waaay out of it right now. Like I'm only getting bits and pieces of what your saying. Speaking of which, you wanna hit?*.
"I will not be mocked sir dragon.."
*Sir Dragon was my father, I'm Puff*
"Well, Puff, I am here to slay you for your theft of crops and cattle and t..."
*Oh, come on man, that's so fascist*
"What?"
*Nobody owns the plants and animals, it belongs to all of us. So much fighting would be over if we all learned to share the Earth, man*
"You stole from farm owners"
*Who had no claim to the land. It belongs to all of us man, plus, you know... I always get hungry when I'm like this*
"When you are like what?"
*What?!? Experiencing the world, man*
"I don't follow"
*You know, lighting one up, getting blazed, getting stoned*
"That's all you do in your free time?"
*Not all of us want to become fascist conquerers dad... i mean Dwayne*
"Forget it, Where is the princess"
*dude, forget about her. I dropped her in some random field. Total premdo... prema...*
"primadonna?"
*yeah, dude. Major buzzkill. Just trying to bark orders all the time. You ever feel stressed when you got people like that in your life?*
"Well, it's a little tiring at times, but it's my responsibility"
*dude, that's just the government trying to control you. You gotta see through the lies man*
"this is the only life I've known"
*Here, try this. It'll open your mind*
"Well, I guess one time won't hurt"
......
......
"hey man, you ever wonder if there's other worlds out there, with other creatures out there"
*Dude, all the time man* | The day had finally come. It is amazing how fast these things sneak up on you. What at first seemed like half a lifetime away had slipped closer and closer almost without notice until finally it was here. Of course, he did want to marry the princess. He was sure he did, every knight in the kingdom had entered that tourney knowing that this was the prize and he had been no different. He had felt that day that his whole life had been leading up to that moment and when it was he that emerged victorious he had felt an immense pride and satisfaction that he had earned the greatest prize in the land, the hand of the kings only daughter and following the marriage the kingdom itself.
The king had organised the tourney when he had learned of his failing health, but had kept this fact secret from the masses. No-one except his family and closest advisors had understood the urgency of the search for the future king until he suddenly passed and a wedding was hastily arranged. Dignitaries from all corners of the country had been gathered for two contrasting but equally momentous events, the burial of a king and the coronation of a new king. "The king is dead, long live the king."
"The king is dead..." those fateful words had hit the knight harder than any opponent had ever managed. Sure he wanted this, but he hadn't expected the call to rule for many years yet, after all, the king had seemed in rude health at the tourney, drinking and feasting till the early hours. He had been expected to sit in the throne for years yet, allowing the knight plenty of time to roam the land as he will, experiencing all there is to experience in what was to become his kingdom. Now it would be his kingdom in a matter of hours but ironically he would have far less freedom to know his country when he took up the mantle of ruler. Sure the peace established by the previous king was robust and should not prove overly difficult to maintain, but the relentless hospitallity required to maintain the hard won diplomatic alliances would fill his days with fatuous events involving too much dancing and food and not enough blood and wine.
And sex. As a knight of the realm he had never been short of company from the opposite sex when he desired it, even before he had proven himself the best knight in the country at the infamous tourney. It is not that he disliked the princess. They had gotten along reasonably well on the few occasions that had spent time together. But it was clear that apart from this union they had little in common. Of course it wasn't unheard of for a king to have mistresses, it was frowned upon and besides, it would not be the same as seducing some young thing in a new town who had no idea who you were. The massive crowd now gathered and the multitudinal posters being sent to every corner of the country would certainly put paid to that.
The soon to be king took a deep breath and stood up, taking a moment to enjoy the blissful solitude he would soon find it so hard to obtain. A page politely prompted him to move into position and he walked out of the room and followed the page to the small anteroom behind the courtyard which had been prepared for the ceremony. On the other side of the door were all the important people and the people who thought of themselves as important from all corners of the kingdom and the most important of their allies. All waiting to see the knew royal couple confirm their union. He pushed through door as he was announced to the crowd and was instantly aware of the eyes of every person there on him, watching and judging his every move. How he longed for his armour and a weapon!
There was a commotion towards the back of the crowd as the princesses arrival was announced and every eye moved away from the knight again. The princess moved down the aisle to the knight with a grace which belied the metres of fabric enveloping her and trailing off into the distance behind her. She reached the knight and turned to face him, looking up at him with a strange combination of nervousness and excitement that almost perfectly matched the knights own mood.
The priest stepped forward, preparing to deliver the ceremonial coup de gras when a shadow fell over the crowd. The deathly silence that fell over the courtyard was punctuated by the crack of leathery wings as the giant beast lazily glided low over the fearful crowd. The knight didn't hesitate, he had his best suit of armour back in his room and it would be the work of a moment to don it and carry his sword and shield again onto he field of battle. For the first time since the death of the previous king, the knight felt pure joy. This is what he was born to do. | 2016-06-09T08:03:24 | 2016-06-09T07:03:16 | 171 | 15 |
[WP] people are often impressed by your perfect memory. You know your memory is actually pretty bad; however, the universe is constantly changing to match what you believe. You just started taking a physics exam... | *Oh shit,* I muse, pencil tapping against the paper. *Newtons first law? I don’t even remember how many laws he had!* I focus harder, as I place the tip of the pencil against the paper. A sudden spark of memory hits, and I begin scratching out what I know. “An object in motion stays in motion.” I set my sights on the next question. *What? Gravity? Air resistance?* I sigh to myself, and pinch my nose. *What on earth is is called when things fall down?* eventually, I decide that it has to be because the object wants to fall if it’s really heavy, but if it’s light it won’t matter at all.
A spelling mistake forces me to have to grab my pink rubber eraser and rub out a word. I brush the dirty eraser crumbs away, and they fly off, floating off into the air. *That’s normal, right?* I look right at the next question on the exam. “What is the atomic number for carbon?” Unfazed, I remembered that lead pencils had carbon, and that must mean that carbon was number 46, or 47, or whichever one is Pb. As I begin writing that down, my pencil suddenly becomes several times heavier, and I drop it in surprise. It bounces on the floor and begins rolling away without showing signs of stopping.
*Something doesn’t feel right,* I think, as I begin to realize, *my body is made of carbon!* I fall to the floor, immobile. *When did I get so heavy?* | “Where is God?” Dylan hovered over to Michael watching tv, feet propped up on the lazy boy.
“On earth. Why?”
Dylan grabbed his halo and hold it out in front of him. After a couple of taps and swipes an image was summoned within the halo in a 3d model, presenting... a planet.
“Is that earth?” Michael asked.
“The planet with only two continents, yeah it’s earth.”
“... Are you being sarcastic?”
“No, this is literally earth at this moment.”
“When did that happen?”
“God knows how. I just wish I could find him.”
“Well he’s on earth.”
Dylan slapped his forehead. “Of course, that narrows it down a bunch.”
“... are you being sarcastic this time?”
“Yes!”
Michael eased back and munched on another potato chip. Salt and vinegar. Just right. “Well that’s the last I saw him sixteen years ago.”
“He’s been gone sixteen years?!”
“He said something about people not noticing him enough.
(Will continue) | 2019-10-08T21:26:55 | 2019-10-08T19:54:49 | 98 | 31 |
[WP] You're watching the TV when the news breaks. The supernatural is real! Secret societies of monsters live among us! The masquerade is broken! As you sit shocked, your cat turns to you and says "OK, now we can drop the pretense, I do have a number of complaints..." | I blinked, feeling a bit nonplussed. All these years and I never had the slightest inkling Conrad could talk. "Such as?" I managed to say in an even tone after quickly composing myself.
My handsome little boy, my friend, my sole companion of countless empty days languidly stretched and padded across the coffee table towards my lap. "How long have we known each other?"
"Er...a number of years..."
"Then I'll feel comfortable being blunt. I don't like how you live."
My stomach sank; it looked more and more like this was going to be some sort of heart-to-heart where we "shared feelings" and "really got to know each other"*.* I've always been a little dead inside, so that was the last thing I wanted. Especially not with a calico cat.
"Look, Bas," said Conrad as he settled into my lap, "before we go any further we've got to talk about my name." A sudden burst of grating noise pollution from the TV echoed on the walls. Conr -- er -- the cat pressed one cute little toe bea...no. I mustn't continue to think of them as some sort of pet; they clearly were something more. The cat pressed its paw onto the remote and muted the obnoxious commercial before my will to continue living completely guttered out.
"Ok, that was horrible," said the cat. "Anyway, you can't call me Conrad. Calico cats are usually *girls*, ya get me?" I nodded, fixing my eyes to hers and giving her a long blink to let her know I was just giving her my undivided attention. She blinked back and continued. "You treat me like I'm the only thing you have that's important and I love you for that. But you need to call me by my real name. It's Agatha. Pleased to meet you."
"Likewise." I tentatively reached out and scratched Agatha's ears.
"Please, stop that," she purred contentedly. "I need to say my piece. You treat me like gold but you treat yourself like scat no one's had the decency to bury. I love you and I don't like it."
"I have enough," I said, gesturing to the various means of entertainment I had at my disposal; a beautiful mahogany bookshelf, intricately carved and full of priceless first editions, stood against the wall at the far end of the stone chamber where I spent most of my time. Various musical instruments hung from another wall, and there was always the TV!
"Yes. You read for two hours, you play music for four hours, you leave for awhile and then we watch old Eurovision tapes until you get in that weird long bed and just kind of--" The fur on Agatha's tail briefly stood on end before smoothing down again. "You don't even twitch a muscle," she whispered. "you just...*stare*. I mean, I get the whole 'wanting to be inside a box thing' because I'm a connoisseur but it creeps me right out."
"I have a sleep disorder. It's nothing you need to worry about."
"Do you have a not being able to hunt disorder too? I never see you eat! I've brought you so many birds and mice and you didn't eat a single one. That kinda hurts, man!"
Finally, the reality of my situation became clear. Agatha was my best friend. She cared about me and had been living in anxiety about my well-being for likely a lot longer than I wanted to think about. I could trust her.
"I can't eat the mice and birds you bring me, Agatha. As much as I'd like to taste a pigeon pie again, I can't." I gently picked her up and placed her on the dirt floor, shutting off the generator and making sure the metal doors leading outside were bolted tight. The crypts under the church were closed to everyone, including the clergy, but safe was always better than sorry. The sun would be up soon, and it wouldn't do to have anyone wander in here while I slept. "I do know how to hunt, though. When I leave during the middle of the night?" I didn't feel a need to elaborate.
"Oh." Agatha gasped as the meaning of my words fully dawned on her. "Well...I'm glad you told me. That's definitely a relief." She abruptly reached out a paw and touched my leg. "Hey! I didn't know any of you guys were still around!"
I finally smiled at my best friend for the first time. It felt good not having any secrets from her anymore. "So...feel like coming with me tomorrow night?" | The light of the tv screen danced off of Sam's glasses, the only light aside from what little sunbeams could sneak in from behind the shuttered windows. A bag of microwave popcorn rested against the arm of the couch, a single handful of which had been absentmindedly dropped on the floor to mingle with the empty pizza box. Sam was completely still as he stared at the scrolling headlines and panicked news anchors. "Supernatural confirmed real as mythical monster sighted in West Virginia! Cults and hunters race to find other cryptids!"
"MARTH YOU COMPLETE AND UTTER MORON!"
Sam jumped backwards, upending his popcorn as he scrambled to get away from his cat, who Sam had not even noticed there previously. The cat took no notice, as it was bent over a leather-bound notebook, frantically scribbling with a pen clutched in it's black furry paw.
"Should've guessed it would be him, uppity bastard, thinks he's better than everyone just because he can *fly*. Probably thought he could go back to the good old days, buzz a couple of tourists, knock down a bridge, even though I told him how stupid it would be. Now I have to drag him to President Nessie, probably already a world convention happening, what a nightmare."
By this point, Sam had already back to the furthest corner of the room. "Sh - Sh - Shadow?"
The cat whipped around, teeth bared. "It's Bram, and shut up, I'm thinking!" He turned back to his notebook. "Prosecuting that idiot's going to get hung up in all kinds of red tape, and, lord, we're going to have to pick out an ambassador aren't we? Maybe Sasha, she's already well known, being *Bigfoot* and all, and pretty personable at that. Photogenic too, ha ha."
Sam, having finally recovered from his shock, stood up to his full height, and grabbed the closest weapon, a single throwing dart lodged into the wall about five feet away from the dartboard, and wielded it menacingly. "Alright Shadow, what the hell is going on here?"
Bram slammed the notebook shut and leapt to the sofa's arm to face Sam. "Isn't it obvious? I'm a magic talking cat. Now if you excuse me, I have to get out of this shithole to actually do my job."
Sam turned bright red and took a couple steps towards Bram, slashing his dart from a fencing stance. "What the hell are you trying to say? I swear I'll..."
"You'll do what? All you've ever been able to hit with that dart are newspaper clippings of your brother's success. And you know what, while we're here, I have some complaints to make. The only reason I was ever here in the first place was because you cared so little that I could lay low and sneak out to do my job without you noticing. It took you a week to set out my litter box, you kept forgetting to feed me, and now all that's pointless because of FUCKING MARTH!"
After his final yell, Bram rose into the air, and was enveloped in a halo of bright yellow light. Sam jerked back and covered his eyes as the soft strains of corporate elevator music filled his ears. When the light faded, Sam looked to see his cat striding out the door, dressed in a miniature suit and tie with a briefcase strapped to his back. Pausing on the threshold, Bram looked back and said, "I know you only got me because you thought it would make you more attractive to potential dates. But trust me, it's going to take a whole lot more than just a cat."
Then Bram turned the corner, leaving Sam to stand stunned, clutching his dart. After five minutes of mental turmoil, Sam, seemingly in a trance, stumbled back to the couch and turned back to the news, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the ground where the bag had spilled. | 2021-06-17T18:40:20 | 2021-06-17T15:11:01 | 142 | 75 |
[WP] Your father leaves the house to buy milk, 50 years later he comes back with milk in hand and hasn't aged a bit. | Received Messages from Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 4:04pm
We've run out of milk, I've gone to get some more from the shop. Love Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 4:30pm
The shop was sold out of milk, I'm trying the other store. Love Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 5:02pm
The other shop was sold out too, the guy told me they didn't get a delivery this morning. I'm going to head to the deliver centre now. I need my god damn coffee. Say hi to mom for me. Love Dad.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 7:23pm
The delivery centre was closed. I don't get it. These places run 24/7. I'll wait here until I see someone.
Thursday 16th Nov 2017 9:01pm
Still no one. This is nuts. I'm going to sleep in my car. Tell your mom. Love Dad.
Friday 17th Nov 2017 9:19am
Finally spoke to the manager. He said that the dairy shipment is a week late. Without any milk he had to close the place down until monday. He only came in to check for the truck. He wouldn't tell me anything else, I'm suspicious. I'm going to go to the dairy, it's not too far. Love Dad.
Friday 17th Nov 2017 1:43pm
I'm at the dairy, it's also shut. The manager there said that there's an industrial dispute with the farmers going on. When I demanded milk he laughed at me and said I'd have to talk to the farmers. Damn him. I'm off to the closest dairy farm. Love Dad.
Friday 17th Nov 2017 10:34pm
I'm half way there. It's taking a lot longer due to various interstate closures. Thankfully Bessy can go overland quite nicely. Is there anything on the news about this? Let me know. Love Dad.
Saturday 18th Nov 2017 4:56am
I could barely sleep. The jets flying over head towards the lights in the sky kept waking me up. I should be at the closet farm soon. Love Dad.
Saturday 18th Nov 2017 9:32am
I made it to the farm, but there's black vans EVERYWHERE. I sneaked into the farm house and overheard them talking about UFOs, and missing cows. I'm going to try and come home asap. Love Dad.
Saturday 18th Nov 2017 9:36am
They are searching for me! If I don't make it out, I love you, your sister and your mom. My will is in the top dr
Thursday 8th Feb 2018 12:00pm
I'm not dead. Love Dad.
Monday 21st May 2018 4.52pm
Training is finally finished. Mission begins tomorrow. I'm using my sim card on a stolen phone. I love my family.
Tuesday 20th May 2042 1:09am
I'm not sure if this will work, subspace communication and cellular data probably won't mix. We've finally arrived at Groxon. The Groxars stole all of our cows because theirs died of a genetic disease. Instead of coming to an understanding about taking half of them, they took them all. The FBI, CIA and NASA recruited me to fly one of the Groxar ships for them. They shot down dozens that night, before the Groxar started shooting back. Hopefully you guys weren't part of the casualties. So we're taking the fight to them, the American way. We'll make those bastards pay. Think of my family, Love Dad.
Monday 16th February 2067 5:14pm
Sorry that it's been 50 years. Time dilation and the law of relativity and all of that. The mission was a success at least. Turns out the Army rigged the Groxar spaceships with nukes. Their planet is now a radioactive dust ball. Serves them right I guess. I see that Earth took advantage of Groxar technology and I'll be taking a flying taxi home from the space port. Weird that the last 50 years have felt like a couple of days, I guess because it pretty much was. Travelling at 99.9% of the speed of light does that. I see that mom is still alive, give her a hug from me and warn her a little bit. Tell her I'm younger than my own kids now! Maybe not though, if either of you got messed up in the deep space exploration that NASA started. Can't wait to see you tomorrow! Love Dad.
Tuesday 17th February 2067 10:00pm
I'll be home in an hour. Love Dad.
Tuesday 17th February 2067 10:02pm
Damn. I forgot the milk. | No way.
Anger, sadness, and confusion rolled into a giant emotion in my heart.
"Hey... What's going on here?" I squeaked. My voice betrayed me.
He looked me up and down. Confused. His mouth slung open; just like all those years ago, sitting in front of the TV watching in disbelief as the enemy football players run and score a goal.
He looked at me and I dared to look back.
"Catherine?"
"Yeah. It's me." I whispered. He left... Didn't he?
Mum said he was off to buy milk and never came back. That was 50 years ago. He was in his mid thirties when he had my brother and I so that would put him about 80 years old. However... The man standing in front of me does not look like he aged in the last 50 years.
He still had his piercing blue eyes. A hint of crows' feet touched his eyes and a few smile lines but that's how he was all those years ago. That's what he looks like in the pictures mum showed us in his funeral as we remembered who he was. After... After the police were unable to find him anywhere.
"What is going on here?" He echoed my question.
"Dad, do you remember? June 27, 1966. I will never forget that day. You... left us. Mum said that you were going to get milk but you never came home, in fact, you were no where to be found. We had the police on you and everything. Filed a missing case report," I rambled.
It's as though my father disappeared into thin air. But this was him. As soon as he walked in, the room smelled of sandalwood and after shave, just like before. There was a faint stubble on his chin but that was about it.
"No, that can't be right," my father shook his head "I was at Uncle Jim..." Uncle Jim was the small store down the road. "I was there just 20 minutes ago. What...?"
I could see his confusion. He's registering my face. I have wrinkles and a little taller than my 6-year-old self.
"Where's your mum?"
"She... Never stopped looking for you."
"Where is she? And Luke?"
My breath hitched. My brother was angry when he was gone. All of a sudden the responsibilities fell on him. Being the only male, he had to work on top of going to school. My mum did what she could but I don't think she ever got over the fact my father disappeared the day after their anniversary. Everything seemed fine.
"Mum... Mum is in the loony bin, d-" I flinched. I can't say 'dad' without my mouth going slack. There's no way he's real. I cleared my throat. "All she would talk about is how she must find you coz you must've been scared. Luke... Well, Luke is gone. His anger got the best of him and he got into a fight and..." I hiccuped, remembering the sirens, the blood pumping in my veins as the police broke the news.
"Catherine..." his voice broke my thoughts. "I... It was milk. I left 20 minutes ago, went to the store, and brought the 2% because she was baking a cake... Wasn't that what she was baking?"
It was. My mum didn't realize she needed more milk. So, she sent my dad. She never forgave herself. Always said that it should've been her.
"You left 50 years ago. How is it that you haven't aged? Where... Were you?"
He looked up, his eyes bewildered. He pulled out his old time piece. "I left 20 minutes ago," he said in a strained voice.
I blinked my tears. How was my dad here... Now? After all these years? Where was he? How didn't he age? There were too many questions.
Suddenly, I became very aware at how hot the room was and how fast my heart was beating. I was starting to see stars too. The last I heard before the darkness took me was my father's scream and the milk jug hitting the floor, spilling milk and glass everywhere.
EDIT: thank you for the love! This was my first WP and I'm glad so many of you enjoyed it! | 2017-11-19T17:49:04 | 2017-11-19T17:13:23 | 276 | 60 |
[WP] During a routine checkup with your doctor you both discover your butthole is the stargate. The governments of the world are now out to capture you and harness the power of your ass. | After weeks of running, living in hiding and constant fear, the government finally caught me. Turns out a mid twenties grad student is no match for DEVGRU, who would've thought? At least I made it as long as I did. They put some dark hood over my head and the unmistakeable prick of a needle hit my arm.
I woke up dazed and confused, lying naked on a cold metal table with my ass in the air. I guess the suits liked it doggy style. I tried to look around even though my head was in a brace, it looked like I was in a hangar of some sort. For the most part it was empty.
Lucky me I was wrong. An alarm sounded over the PA system and a calming female voice said the most unnerving words I think I'll ever hear in my life, "Prepare for launch in 30 seconds."
Launch? Launch what? What was going on? I start to scream, being confused and scared for my life and what was about to happen. Little did I know that nothing in my imagination -or my nightmares- could prepare me for what happened next. .
When the counter hit five seconds left, I felt a huge vibration behind me. No, they wouldn't. Would they? Yeah...they would. Within seconds I feel cold steal penetrating my anus, and it kept getting bigger and bigger. I guess the structure of the wormhole allowed my rectum to stretch beyond anything thought humanly or physically possible.
Those assholes were sending an entire spaceship into my ass. Tons on tons on tons of technology rammed its way into my rectal cavity, stretching it to what had to have been over 50ft wide. The pain was unimaginable, but my body wouldn't let go. I lay there suffering the entire time.
This is my life. I am kept warm by heaters, fed with sludge, and hydrated through IV. My ass is an ever revolving door of space travel to long far away galaxies.
The worst part is, after about the fifth time...I have to admit I started liking it. | "You're telling me this guy's butt is the gateway to another dimension?"
"Yes sir, Mr. President."
"How long has this been in existence? I mean, did he get this way last week? Why haven't we heard of anything about him before?"
"It appears that he's been this...portal, or gate, since birth, sir. So about twenty-eight years, Mr. President."
"....Is there sentient life on the other side?"
"Yes, sir."
"....Jesus. Do they know about this? Is there a risk of them coming here?"
"We don't believe so, sir. It appears to be a one-way gate."
"So we can go there, then?"
"Ah...no, sir. It's a man's rectum, sir. It's sized like anyone else's."
The president closes his eyes and rubs his temples with his fingertips. "Has anything ever gone through to the other side?"
"Yes, sir. Quite frequently. Usually daily."
"..What? What is going through?"
"Sir, it's his rectum, sir. He defecates like anyone else."
"So this guy has an ass that opens a portal to another dimension. That he shits into. He doesn't need a toilet. He just takes a crap and it lands in another world."
"Yes sir, Mr. President."
"For fuck's sake."
The air hangs heavy for a few moments. The president leans back in his chair. "Do we have him contained?"
"Yes, sir. Edwards AFB, sir."
"Fine." | 2015-01-25T07:32:15 | 2015-01-25T07:26:28 | 84 | 26 |
[WP] For years Earth cried out to an empty cosmos, searching the stars for echoes of life. From the middle of nowhere, a reply finally comes: "Shut up, and Play Dead!"
I really struggled with the choice between "For Years", "For Decades", "For Centuries", and "For Millenia". I tapped out. Take whatever timeline you will.
This may or may not be an attempt to add cosmic significance to Red Green's "Quando Omni Flunkus Moritati".
Good Luck!
Edit: There are a LOT of good submissions here, thank you all so much! Speaking of excellent submissions, I'd like to plug u/Mrcreation for doing some very well written, lengthy work near the bottom of the thread. Scroll down and check out his multipost entry!
Edit 2: I just finished the first two books of the Three Body Problem, by Liu Cixin. Mind=Blown. A part of the series definitely shares similar themes to this prompt, but there is so much more! I highly reccomend it. | Scholars never ceased to write about how amazingly fast humanity came together when an existential threat was proven to loom over our continued existence.
We first received The Signal about 30 years ago, right when I had first joined the SETI team. After five years of painstaking work, linguists were confident that it translated to the English equivalent of “Shut Up, and Play Dead!” We had double checked our translation, running The Signal through dozens of double blind international teams, all working simultaneously to ensure accuracy and speed (I had sheepishly -- and wrongly -- suggested that maybe the aliens were just Jerry Garcia fans).
So, faced with such bluntness, we united. Humanity willingly set itself back nearly a hundred years to a pre-Information Age culture. Satellites came down and GPS went dark. No more internet or television signals beaming across the cosmos. The loose confederation of countries that had formed the U.N. now became a strict regulatory agency to ensure that no country took advantage of the global blackout and to enforce the one rule of our survival: stay quiet and don’t move a muscle.
I knew that across the world were many teams working on trying to parse out even a sliver of additional information from the message so they could figure out how to prepare for this unknown threat. However, above all, our team had been transformed from a barely funded back-of-the-envelope operation to the first line of defense. We had to keep scanning for new signals -- quietly.
Now, instead of doing it with bold detectors openly beaming bragging signals into space, I hide in a small bunker nearly a mile under the surface, painstakingly scanning the sky light year by light year. After much deliberation, the bigwigs in charge of humanity’s survival decided that masking our search as standard background radiation was a risk worth taking. We weren’t sending the signals, but we could keep scanning the sky, like a mouse keeping an eye out for a hawk from the top of its burrow. I’m all alone down here; just the machines sweeping the sky and me. I take month long shifts before being relieved and there are dozens of these hole-in-the-ground stations around the globe, all pointing at different parts of the sky.
My display screen has just started beeping. For first time in 30 years, I have caught a glimpse of the talons in the sky. The new signal comes in fast, 1s and 0s filling my screen. I quickly check the localizer and see that this time the message is coming from several light years in a different direction than our original Signal. What does this mean? Are our secret guardians on the move? Or has someone else found us? Did we accidentally twitch a limb and now the hawk is taunting us?
I’m simply supposed to relay the pure, untranslated signal to higher authorities, but I can’t help but see if the auto-translate they have installed in our machine can at least give me the essence of this new message. My heart is racing as I wonder at the depths of the prophecy I hold in my hands. The translation only takes a minute -- the code is the same as The Signal. Words begin to fill up my screen:
“Third planet of Sol: why have you gone dark? Please don’t tell us you fell for that old [garbled name] trick; they just want to keep their trading monopoly in this area. Please signal back if you have any [list of elements begins to fill the screen].” | For years, SETI had been hopeful. We sent out satellites, radio signals, messages. Our planet was awash with transmissions, information, and chatter. We pointed receptors at every quadrant of the night sky. After all, if life was out there, we would find it. And we did.
It was almost to the chagrin of SETI researchers that, in 2022, half the planet found its communications completely disrupted. All broadband frequencies were overloaded with noise. The public was panicking, and the scientific community was dumbfounded. Was this an attack? Was this intentional? Where was this coming from?
Calculating the origin point was almost trivially simple. The orientation and magnitude of the signal indicated it was a focused beam originating from Gliese 832. Indeed, the beam seemed to be focused solely on Earth, with incredible precision. Observations showed satellites, even in low earth orbit, were unaffected until they entered the beam. Perhaps, scientists theorized, the aliens were simply unaware of how strongly whatever information they had tried to send was affecting the planet.
By 2023, scientists had become somewhat tense. It had become apparent that the beam of information was *very tightly* controlled. Signal strength was just strong enough to blot out transmissions on earth, but weak enough that it degraded significantly in Earth's atmosphere on the way out. The signal was based on a complex algorithm, but clearly did not contain any additional information. The signal changed depending on the Earth's position relative to Sol. It was clear, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the signals must necessarily originate from intelligent life. Exuberant, NASA designed the LRBTA and pointed it at Gliese. As suggested by Stephen F. Hawking, we transmitted their algorithm, but with a negative sign attached.
It was mid 2024, far before our transmission could have reached them, when the signal suddenly changed. The algorithm had disappeared. The signal was now what appeared to be a repeating pattern of binary numbers. Their meaning became apparent relatively quickly. The first two contained length and width, with the last being a simple description of which squares to color in.
The image was as follows: 4 vertical lines, spaced unevenly. Over 300 horizontal lines. At each of the vertical lines, many of these stop. Only three lines pass the third vertical line. One of the lines rests on the fourth vertical line, another two lines pass the fourth vertical line. The line that does not pass the the fourth vertical is distinguished with an empty cell on the left side of the image. One line that does pass the fourth vertical is distinguished by a wiggle at the end. One line that does pass the vertical loops backwards to connects to the fourth vertical.
With a sinking sensation, the greater scientific community realized we had reached the great filter.
| 2016-03-27T08:20:13 | 2016-03-27T08:04:59 | 1,382 | 73 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | No one feared humans. They were soft and gave in easily to requests made to prevent war. Their mere presence in the intergalactic community was widely considered a mystery. Their home must be even weaker than they are.
Our people were raiders. We seemed to find human colonies everywhere we went. Perhaps that's how they did it? They procreate so much that they have no choice but to flee to new homes. We would stop in various human colonies and take our fill of food and useful equipment and goods. The humans always seemed eager to part with it if it meant preventing a true war. They insisted it was in the best interest of all involved.
The council doesn't understand. Why are so many of their potentially habitable planets in their origin systems so irradiated? There isn't enough radioactive material to account for that.
We pushed our limits. We took more, we left less. We occasionally killed a few of their meager guards but even then, they relinquished. Until we took some of Them.
We were contacted shortly thereafter with demands to return the newly captured slaves. We declined.
They tried again. We declined again.
We sent word to the council and they rebuffed every attempt by the humans to recover their people. It was a mistake to have underestimated them.
A meeting with a human General called Matthis took place. The human was implacable. A true vision of grace under pressure, and stoicism the likes of which I've never seen in one of their kind before. It's almost as if he feels that the multitudes of kinetic and energy weapons pointed at him are no threat.
The negotiations were swift, as we still refused to return our trophies. War was declared. Mistakes were made.
General Matthis opens his communications to humans somewhere off planet. "Glass it." He turns to look at me and the council. "We'll speak again tomorrow. Hopefully you'll change your mind." As he leaves the chambers we all look at each other, the same curious thought running through our minds.
"What does glass have to do with war?" Sure our planets were rich in various silicates, but glass was fragile and worthless to wartime production in the vast majority of cases.
We learned much that evening.
The following day, the General returned, a solemn look on his face. Even he understood what had happened. An entire colony planet gone overnight. Turned to glass. He looks up from the floor, his expression still grim. "I hope you've changed your minds. I would like to not have to do that again." | "Fall back! I repeat, fall back!"
Just as he said that, a projectile hit him right in the forehead. A explosion soon followed, sending body-parts everywhere.
General Octanmard was about to charge, but then a starfighter lost control and destroyed the bridge. The Humans on the other side, didn't stop advancing however. They simply used their tech to quickly make a improvised bridge, and charge across.
The council never expected this. When they encountered Humans, they showed themself as a interesting species. They had long history of war, but since they discovered Hyperspace travel, they went to resorting everything diplomatically.
So, the Terrans struck, thinking it will be a easy win, they were wrong.
Humans liked diplomacy, and were pacifists, but they weren't afraid to kill.
"Avoid violence if possible, but if challenged, strike back with *everything* you have." Said the old Human saying.
Humans also had interesting tech, they didn't use plasma weaponry, instead they used projectile throwers, that launched spike-like objects at high speed. Terran armor could easily deal with plasma, but not with this.
They also mastered nuclear power, something no other species successfully did, or thought was possible. They designed bombs, capable of wiping out whole planets, and turning them into toxic wastelands, in matter of hours.
Humans called it: "The Nuclear Bomb."
General Octanmard then noticed something. The humans seemed to be evacuating? But why? They were winning, weren't they?
As troop carriers flew off, he noticed a human bomber dropping something. He watched in awe as the bomb caused a second sun to appear.
He would've thought it was beatifull, if he wasn't so close.
"So, that's how a nuclear bomb looks like..."
Humans won the war 3 years later, leaving many planets a toxic wasteland.
Nobody dared to challenge them since. | 2020-06-19T14:50:22 | 2020-06-19T08:47:46 | 65 | 31 |
[WP] One day, while your bored and home alone, you start looking up and pressing pressure points on your body. After you hit one behind your ear, a strange board appears in front of you. You’ve just opened the Character Menu. And there’s a lot of settings you didn’t know about... | 5e.
That's the first word that hit me when I saw the board: a blue clipboard type thing with buttons, and a bluish sheet on it. The clipboard has the number 18 on it in Times New Roman. I gingerly try to touch the paper, but my hands pass through it, and the board. Holographic.
There is Strength, Dex, Constitution, Intelligence, Wisdom, Charisma. I take a look at my scores. 12, 10, 11, 13, 10, 13. Concentrating on it a little bit more, they reveal 11+1, 9+1, 10+1 and so on. Standard human race.
Burning questions run through my mind. Is this how it is for everyone else? Why 5e? Are there other races out there? And... I catch a glance at a number again: 18.
That's clear cut enough: I have 18 points I haven't spent. But... I run calculations though my head. That's more than what's given in 5e. 27 point buy, my ass. This is 33 point buy.
I sit back and think, before slowly reaching back to pinch myself again in the pressure point. The clipboard disappears like it's never been there in the first place.
I take a few deep breaths before running out to my friend's house. I have work to do. | I guess I just wasn't really aware of how mundane we all are. We all were. They. Im going to need to start saying they. You experience a lot of things in life that make you smarter, wiser, or stronger. All the little things that made you who you are, that's all your experience. Every heartbreak, interaction, decision, and step taken.
Experience.
It was the scariest decision I've ever made, but the easiest. After all, I had the experience.
L E V E L U P
I guess... I guess I just wasn't really wasn't aware of how mundane they all were. | 2018-10-22T01:42:05 | 2018-10-21T21:59:31 | 67 | 31 |
[WP] The Grim Reaper is your overprotective dad, Hades is the cool uncle, and Cerberus is the beloved family pet. What happens when your boyfriend comes over to meet the family? | No pun intended, but the dinner table was deathly quiet save Cerberus' non-stop munching. I couldn't tell which head the noise was coming from, but at this moment, I really didn't care.
Uncle Des had barely touched his food and - still grinning, kept looking from Michael to me, then dad. He knew the explosion was coming. He just didn't know when.
"So, Michael", Dad began. I sighed with relief. For an immortal, the last few minutes had seemed like an eternity. "What do you do?"
"He's into c...", Dad shot an index in my direction. I shut up immediately.
Michael smiled, "I'm into charity work".
"Charity work as in...you're unemployed?" Uncle Des chipped in.
I shot him a dirty look because I knew exactly what he was doing. In one night, I'd come out to my conservative, very traditional father and brought home my lover for dinner. Finding out my boyfriend had limited career options would flip Dad over the edge.
Michael smiled again, "Not exactly-"
Suddenly, the dinner table started shaking. Cerberus' left and middle heads began a low pitched growl as the right head began to whimper. Uncle Des took a whiff of the air and muttered, "Fuck."
Michael raised a hand to speak, "Umm...". Dad's index shot up again.
"What's going on Des?" Dad asked as the shaking got more intense and Uncle Des strode towards the door, sparks beginning to crackle around his hands.
"He's here."
"Him?!"
"Yep." Cerberus bounded next to Uncle Des, the growling getting louder. Dad walked across the room towards him as Michael looked on wide eyed.
"What did you do now Des?" Dad groaned, as Dark Scythe appeared in his hand. Dark Scythe only appeared when there was trouble. Serious trouble.
"Guess we're about to find out." Uncle Des smirked. "Either way, this doesn't end well".
"Umm...dad?" I tried to interject.
"Not now. Don't make this night any worse than it already is!"
Instant mute, I turned into.
Uncle Des grinned at me and opened the door. A bright light shone through our dimly lit house, not just blinding, but overpowering. I shielded my eyes as I tried to look out to the person standing on our front lawn.
"What do you want fuck face?!" Uncle Des bellowed.
The voice was silent, but loud. "I'm here for my son."
"Nobody here has your stinking son! Child Protection's probably got him the way you treat him. Letting him meddle with mortals till they killed him, that's bad parenting."
"Hi Dad". Uncle Des and Dad spun around to look at Michael who was standing in the doorway with a sheepish look on his face. I knew. I was already shaking my head because I knew.
"Dad?" Uncle Des whispered.
"That's what I was trying to tell you earlier. I'm God's son."
"Kill me now." Dad groaned. | All I could think of as I walked to the door was how fucked I was. How do I explain to my dad I fell in love with Time? No matter what I do I know he is going to go up the wall about "That good for nothing, over booking, miscreant". The only thing that could save me would be mom but she has been so withdrawn since dad had to take my brother Danny. She sobs for hours in her room not knowing how to get around the fact that dad didn't KILL Danny, hell, he put him out of his misery. We keep explaining to her that it is Pestilence fault for giving him lukemia, but she has never met Pestilence and she wants a face, or I guess skull, to assign blame too. As I walk through the door and call out I'm home the standard noises fill the house. Mom sobbing in her room, dad on the phone with Cutco arguing that his scythe has in fact dulled and he wants a replacement, and Cerberus whining at the door because he has to pee and if his lava piss burns one more hole in the rug dad just might kill him. Things are a little gloomy in the house of Death but the overall life isn't bad, or well, it wouldn't be if dad wasn't such a raging asshole. Once again I found myself wishing my uncle Hades was my father but everytime I say that he looks at me a sighs sadly and walks away. I looked at the clock and realized it was almost time for, well Time, to arrive. "Alright this is going to be fine. Dad can't scare off another one, nothing matters as long as I have all the Time in the world." Chuckling to myself I walk into dad's lair. Heaven forbid it be an office like every other deity noooo pop insists on it being called a lair.
"Dad I have something to tell you." I said, proud at the strength in my voice.
"Oh sure honey just give me one minute."
"Well I'm glad you brought up time because.... I'm sorta dating him."
Cold silence was my only reply. Several times dad s jaw opened only to close back up again. Finally dad laughed loud and long. When he finished he picked up the phone and hit a number on speed dial.
"Hey Hades I need you to come pick up your kid. This little bitch isn't good for much and just started dating Time. I'm done with her, I annul the contract saying you owe me your first born." | 2017-03-08T19:17:42 | 2017-03-08T18:29:55 | 56 | 33 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | The human species as a whole are existing in an almost dual existance, wanting peace but showing power. Since they procreate at a rate slower than most of the species known to the cosmos (1 per galactic year), they seem to have a compassionate life. This seems to belie a darker side. A side that only a few of the more violent species have seen.
Our species was one to initiate first contact on a global basis for the humans. This was a peaceful brokering, but our initial scouting of the planet showed a compulsion toward complete global dominance by any one member of the species. When asked about it, they seemed to skirt the issue by offering us fermented drinks, but were declined due to a difference in digestive properties of our species. They were up front about their wishes for peace throughout the universe with other species. They were met by the universal Directorate, with much applause due to their charisma and wish to be taken seriously.
A couple of earth decades later, they encountered something no species would ever want to see: The Kraven. The Kraven were known for brutality, rage, and irreverence for life, along with a fast paced breeding cycle. This was but a laughable comparison to the humans. Within hours of landing on Earth, the humans offered a token of compassion to the Kraven, Peace if they left the planet. This was met with the destruction of part of the atmosphere by the Kraven. Days later the humans retaliated by engulfing and then eating the Kraven, an act that was met with such surprise that the Kraven high command requested that the humans meet with them to negotiate. This was followed by the extermination and eventual eating of the Kraven, even with the newest of the soldiers being thrown at them. The Kraven, a species of fear and loathing, was destroyed within 14 Sol days of arriving on earth. We believe that the humans are a peaceful species. But if provoked, even for a moment, they show a ferocity unlike any other. Needless to say they are now training a coalition of interplanetary species in the art of war. All species in the coalition are frightened of the prospect. | Starlog:210x August 24th
Our plans ,to invade Earth, thwarted by Humans again!No matter how hard we try, there always seems to be a collection of heroes sticking their ugly heads into our business.Last weeks invasion made us extraterrestrials look as weak as a bag of sticks!Outrageous!
....What went? wrong?Everything was going accorded to plan.These heroes, curse them!We had trapped all of them into their command building,but every ounce of firepower and our assortment of mortar shells could not incinerate these puny humans into ash.The biggest insult of all was when one of them blasted into our mothership and instantly killed 5 of our strongest warriors...i could not believe it.This man,who was had no visible hair and looked like the typical fool who would get their lunch money stolen by a pack of monkeys...had single-handedly punched our Generals into blood and ash.I knew that if i stayed and fought,i would not stand a chance....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Captain Vargus stood on the central platform of the **Ravager**.Facing behind him was the escape pod,which still had 5 seconds until launch.
'Such a formidable opponent.Tell me,human...who are you?'
The human scratched his head without interest.
'I'm Saitama.I'm just a hero for fun.' | 2016-03-13T20:45:40 | 2016-03-13T19:47:12 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] There are many types of Mages in the world. Fire, Ice, Wind, Water, Death, Darkness, to name a few. But in this world, every type of mage is treated as equal. Everyone can be a good guy, no matter how dark your power. And anyone could be a bad guy, no matter how beautiful their ability...
Edit: Wow
I'm not even sure, this is not the prompt I expected to more than double my other highest, or get gold! Thank you so much! | They called her La Verre Rose, and she was beautiful.
She was not conventionally beautiful; but her features and the way she held herself made her beautiful nonetheless, and the way she dressed and held herself made her a sight to behold.
She carried herself like she was royalty and the ground she stood on was privileged to hold her weight. She moved fluidly and tended to take the path of least resistance; like a stream of water lazily finding its way down a slope. Her favorite color was a rich red; she always found a way to work it into her clothing, and her lips and nails never failed to be painted in it. Her hair was a color so dark it only showed its color when light was behind her, and she was tall, elegant thing with sharp features and eyes a grey so piercing it burned into your soul and the glint within them carried a promise of a million amazing things to any poor fool that found themselves caught in her gaze.
You could call it magic; but while she possessed the skill in spades, that wasn’t the type of mage she was; no;
She used ice, and she used glass.
Before she earned the title, in a time where her gaze was softer, her name was Samanta, and she owned a shop that sold works made of glass.
Her creations were beautiful - crystalline towers and figurines of line and the lightest touches of color; works that made mesmerizing patterns in the sunlight. People would commission from her anything from grand memorial statues to elegant dinnerware, and she took her time; some orders took weeks to complete, but the detail in her works were unparalleled and the results were exquisite.
Like everyone else, she had a past. She wasn’t always a resident in this city, and she moved in along with hundreds of other refugees from a small city in a neighboring country that was faced with a string of violent murders where the victims would be cut into shreds. When she was asked about it, like many refugees, she shrugged it off and said that it was becoming too violent and that she had seen too many die to live there anymore. And then she would shake her head, make a quip, smile, laugh, and continue working.
It wasn’t long before she was hired by the Emperor, per request of his Empress, to fill the role of ‘Court Mage’, and while all mages were supposed to be equal, that title was previously seen by the gifted circles as one belonging to mere petty stage magicians or one above court jester. Samanta, however, turned it into one of elegance and respect. She had to entertain the emperor’s guests, and she did away with the common petty parlor tricks; and in came grand shows of light and color; sculptures of ice on the dining table that seemed to come to life and poured patrons chilled drinks; music made from vibrations resonating through her art; all the evenings were delightful and at the very end guests would receive a small glass trinket to bring home with them, created with her own two hands.
Samanta’s favorite thing to create was roses.
In the palace grounds, when she was hired, they gave her a room. When she proved herself to be a wonderful entertainer, they gave her a studio;
When they walked into the studio a month after the gifted it to her, The Empress gazed upon the hundreds and hundreds of glass roses climbing the walls and gave her a plot of land in which to make a garden.
It didn’t take long for word to spread of the Glass Garden in the royal palace of Kaverna. Aristocrats and wealthy merchants traveled far to spend a day strolling amongst it, and often brought many, many gifts. Other mages and glassblowers attempted to recreate Samanta’s roses to varying levels of success - but none could manage the level of detail she placed in each petal.
It helped bring a new era of diplomacy and soon Kaverna became a place of wealth thanks to the tourism and trade. People came to the city to see the glass works, to see the palace gardens, to see her. It was around then she earned the name, La Verre Rose.
But, like everyone knows; a rose has its thorns, and one made of glass can have petals as sharp as razors.
When an attempt on the lives of the royal family was made, Samanta stepped in and prevented the assassination. She had, with a wave of her hand, summoned shards of glass to cut through him from a million angles.
In the time it took the royal family to blink, the assassin had become ribbons of flesh on the marble floor and blood painted the walls and when they turned their gaze to their savior and the first thing that they realized was that the red she always wore on her clothes and on her lips and her nails and used on her most favorite roses was the exact deep red of blood leaving a freshly killed body.
The second was that she was looking at the corpse, and smiling as fondly as one would at a lover.
| "This is very, very wrong."
Erwan dumped the body in the cart. Turning to me, he grinned. "What is?"
I shivered. The townsfolk were looking at us from afar, with fear in their eyes. We don't usually do that in towns! "The locals are going to hate you for that, you know?"
Erwan shrugged and went back to his grisly task. I took a long look at him.
He only got officialized as a necromancer six months ago, yet his layered robes were already worn and stained from countless hours of feverish practice across the county. Though the stench of death and bodily release filled the alley, he seemed perfectly in his element.
"Pwah!" Why did I have to remind me of the stench!? Erwan laughed at my discomfort. Damn it, I'll never get used to death mages!
Now that I think about it, we have been together since our junior year at the County Academy. We were the only low-blood apprentices of the school, so we stuck together naturally. We shared interest in earth magic, too... Until that shady dark arts freak of a teacher came to the academy, at least! It's all gone downhill from here.
Thump. Another body gets dumped in the cart by a pair of Erwan's servants. I shivered again.
Raised skeletons are the only legal minions allowed for necromancers. They're puny and won't stink the place up like zombies, and don't scream "evil" as much.
Though it's not exactly a good idea to display them in the middle of the town either. But when this black-robe gets an idea, he never backs down.
Erwan climbed on the cart. "Alright, this street is done! One more and I'll set you free." I grumbled. He smiled. "Thanks for tagging along today."
I looked away. "I didn't really have a choice, did I?" The townsfolk of the region know me well, I came last planting season to enrich their soils with my magic. If I weren't here with Erwan while he's taking their dead away, the locals might have mobbed against him.
He gave me a friendly bump in the shoulder. "I'll owe you a big one after all this."
With a snap of his fingers, the spooky minions hopped back into the cart, and I motioned Pinpin onwards. This freak wanted to bring a skeletal horse to the job, but I insisted we looked bad enough using my own, living horse.
The plague happened a month after our graduation. It was a mess of a conflict between the Healers' Guild and the Alchemists about trade practices that degenerated into the spread of the Purple Death, but nobody knows which side started it. All we know for sure is that neither knows how to stop it, and it has raged on throughout the country, preying on the poor who can't afford charms or magic to protect themselves.
As the cart rolled, I gave another look at the man sitting next to me. He was wearing his same stupid smile, like he knew better than anyone else. But it was a small, tired smile. His eyes, too, betrayed his exhaustion. He's been at his task without respite ever since his plan hatched.
When Erwan found me two weeks ago, I was cowering in my parents' mansion, far from civilization and death. He came to our door wearing his same old garb, with nothing else but his staff and his plan.
I don't understand how I managed to muster the courage to go out there and risk a long, painful agony at the hands of the Purple Death... Gods! Even with my protective wards, I'm still shaking with apprehension right now.
But with so many dead, and so many others fearing death, nobody is leaving their home. And if nobody comes out to harvest, how many more will die this winter?
Necromancy is disgusting, immoral, unholy, and perverted... But if Erwan's raised workers can feed people and save lives, then as a sanctioned shaman, it's my duty to help, isn't it...
I looked at one of the skeletons. It looked back at me, its empty orbits void of life. I scowled and looked away.
...at least, until I find a better solution! | 2016-11-12T13:01:10 | 2016-11-12T12:39:45 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] You're a villain who's always wanted to be a hero, but whenever you try and do something heroic the media always spins it in a way like you've committed an atrocity.
fuckin hell, I came back after a day in the city and this is what I find?
_Awesome!_ | **"Local menace cares not for rules! Is nothing sacred?"**
"Horror transpired yesterday as local madman, otherwise known as Tim Smith, once again showed complete disregard for law and order.
The lunatic dashed across an rush-hour intersection with his sole goal to violently abuse the elderly!
Car brakes screeching, people crying out, and old Mrs. Weatherwax will never walk the streets the same way again."
----------------------------------------
Tim crumpled up the paper, *"Jaywalking,"* he sighed.
You gotta give it to the media, that's some way to spin holding an old lady's hand as you help her cross the street.
Car brakes screeching is just sorta what car brakes do when they, well, brake.
And that other bit, "People crying out". It's not my fault that my friend Jim felt like saying hello.
He walked over to nearby waste bin and slipped in the crumpled up paper. Time to return to duties.
Just as Tim walked away he noticed the sound of a ballpoint pen hitting the rings of a notepad.
"Hey, Smith," said the man with a bowler hat, as he continued to tap his notepad.
A smirk slithered onto the man's face, "You're a *"Public Service Man"*, aren't you? Do me a public service, would you?"
Tim bit down on the inside of his cheek and turned robotically, "How can I help you?"
The man used his pen to point to the waste basket, "What's that there say on the side of that waste basket, Smith?"
Tim Smith hissed in a breath through clenched teeth, "Plastics only."
The man in the bowler hat shook his head disapprovingly, "You're a menace, Smith. It's all games to you. The people will hear of this."
----------------------------------------
**"Terrorist Smith takes his heinous crimes to the global level! Seeks to destroy the world!"** | "Finally"
He spoke to himself as he flew through the air, his armor glinting in the fire light. "There is no way they can make rescuing children from a burning building look bad."
Flying the last of the orphans to safety he stopped for a moment to turn and stare at the fire, a blaze that started seemingly out of nowhere. Lost in thought for just a moment before hearing a Click followed by the flash of a camera.
Smiling under his mask the Steel Centurion placed the last child on the nearby roof and flew back home.
After getting home, Adam lay back on his couch and flipped on the T.V., "Let's see what they have to say about me." Turning on the news he saw the picture of himself, frowning a little as he realized how ominous his suit looked in the firelight. "Maybe next i should work on my image, i mean at least this time they'll get the story right."
The news switches back to their anchorman and Adam turns up the volume. "... say that the Steel Centurion was seen throwing orphans into a burning building, we have this photo of him holding a poor child and flying towards the fire. no word on the cause of the fire yet but we here at Action News have no doubt this villain must have started it himself."
------
My first time writing something, be gentle? | 2017-08-06T05:05:14 | 2017-08-06T01:16:42 | 127 | 58 |
[WP] As it turns out, humans are not the generic, good guy, center of the galaxy type species. Humans are a specialist species, and the rest of the galaxy only cares about one thing when it comes to humanity. Our explosives. | "*OOF, MAKE ENTRY*" I hear ordered over my helmet as I break position from our file and move to the front of the bunker.
My name wasn't always "OOF" by the way. They used to call me Denis.
I grew up on a little farm in the old quarter on earth. Joined up with the Space Force when I was barely old enough to shave. My parents told me it was a stupid idea, dad actually decked me the day I shipped out, but who wants to harvest corn all day? I took the first shuttle off to Mars on September 22 3032 and learned something far better than farming : *explosives*.
It was this particular skill set that paved my way to enter the Galactic Commandos a decade later, when Humanity joined the Galactic Counsel in the Eternal War. Turns out that despite having over a dozen member species on the Council, all with favored means of destruction, "Conventional" warfare had never evolved to include explosives for them. That's where Humans come in.
"Placing charges" I comm to my team, 7 of the hardest, baddest killers in the galaxy. I find it funny that Hurk, our pointman who is a Goran with 6 arms, can throw a small car like a baseball, and *literally* weighs a ton, is actually frightened by explosives. He doesn't like anything smaller than him that makes more noise than he does I guess.
"Set!" I call, and they all instinctively shrink away from the door. I can hear Meek, a brainy hellius who looks like an alien straight from the old 21st century video games, begin playing Hellenic classical music in his helmet. Hellis can do
12 math problems in their heads at once, but can't stand the chaos caused by a couple kilos of Compound-6.
"5" I begin my countdown as they all brace for the coming explosion.
"4" Donny, our team leader and a plurian who's real name is something I can't pronounce without an additional 3 tongues, begins his nervous teeth clicking
"3" I admire the shape of the charges I just laid before returning to the file. I'm an *artist*.
"2" I think I can actually hear Chlora hyperventilating over the comms, or whatever weird shit Mogans do when they're scared.
"1" "unnghhh" I hear Hurk groan as he compacts his body like a giant cat and tries to plug his ears, despite wearing a helmet.
"Knock Knock" I call as I hit the detonator. I see the most beautiful orange flash with just a hint of green, like one of those sunsets, before part of the wall disappears in a cloud of smoke. "Oooooff" Hurk grunts at the on-coming headache before leading our file charging into the Hurk-and-a-half sized hole I just made in the wall. Yes, that's how I got my name.
Edit: their -> they're, I may be an artist but I'm also an idiot it seems.
| Anari Fortress is cramped and claustrophobic. It is a swarming marketplace, filled with both the deepest tenements of the criminal underworld, as well as the faintly disguised extraterrestrials that had contacted us so many times through history. It is here at Anari where humans and our foreign "friends" met face to face, often brought together by government officials and shady ambassadors. They are here for one thing, and one thing only. What we have taken so many years to painstakingly perfect, and yet shot ourselves in the foot so many times with. No firearm, no, that is too inconsequential and insignificant to warrant that sort of attention. I mean explosives.
Our galactic neighbors love them. The carefully crafted exteriors of the various canisters and shells. The destructive power within, raw and untamed. I'm sure we are to blame for many galactic conquests, yet these weapons of devastation are our lucky charm, for as long as we have them, no race would dare try to conquer us. Too much of a mess, they'd prefer to do business instead. They provide us with rare galactic materials, Mithril, Galvantium, Noxorus, you name it we probably have it in our treasuries.
You wonder why I tell you all this? I believe all our clients must know the full history of our "explosive" business. You give us what we want, and we will supply you with heavy grade artillery, dangerous toxin-based explosives, firebombs, and many more enticing options. You will pick from the world's largest stock at the Jabra Warehouse directly below Anari. We will then take you to Seiva Pavillion, where you will indulge in various earthly delights to cap off your stay. Music, dancing, food, luxury. It's a very attractive deal, is it not? What we require from you? Simple.
We would humbly request that our payment be a piece of Gliese-42. We understand that you have recently come into possession of the planet, and we wish for a part of it, to be stored for an energy source on this planet. It seems like a large undertaking, but I personally assure you that it is well worth it for the sheer variety and firepower you will find here at Jabra. So trust in me, and let us leap into this business venture together.
My group awaits you! This will be a blast.
Zolhan Kirvo, President of the United States of America
————————————————————
r/bluelizardK | 2018-07-16T00:54:09 | 2018-07-15T22:26:30 | 1,025 | 104 |
[WP] The narrator was running late and just showed up to a story already in progress. He doesn't know who the heroes or villains are or even what genre this is. | The scene was set. In the bleak tundra, surrounded by lakes of ice and mountains of snow, the two men stood, facing each other wearily. Above them, the cry of an eagle pierced the silence of the night sky.
One of the men, the taller of the two, reached into his jacket. But for what? A gun? A knife? Oh. Sorry.
One of the men, the taller of the two, reached into his jacket, and slowly removed his phone. His frostbitten fingertips moved across the screen with painstaking focus and care, and- What? Oh for fuck's...
One of the men, the taller of the two, reached into his jacket, and slowly removed a GPS from his pocket. His frostbitten fingertips moved across the screen with painstaking focus and care, his restless eyes flitting between the device and his friend. When he was done, the friend smiled, and-
God. Damn it.
His frostbitten fingertips moved across the screen with painstaking focus and care, his restless eyes flitting between the device and his foe. When he was done, the foe smiled maniacally, and suddenly, he was brandishing a. A stick? Why in God's name would he- a wand. He was brandishing a wand.
And suddenly, he was brandishing a wand.
So. Tundra. GPS. Not his friend. Magic and... stuff. What the hell am I narrating over here? Who the, why do-
They're brothers?
Siblings!? But she has a beard! Why on Earth does she-
Fine. If it's not on Earth then why on Mars are they-
How is this remotely comedic? And they're adults, so no, this can't be a coming of age story which is set on Mars in a world where magic exists. And by the way, there's no fucking tundras on Mars. Or eagles. Maybe Falcons, if you want to be really clever and run the risk of isolating most of your non existent audience? Maybe if you-
Well then you can make anything up. Who would even read this drivel? Who would find an intergalactic space opera entertaining?
I don't even, I can't even begin to-
Oh fuck it. I quit. Narrate your own god damned book...
(Feedback always appreciated!)
r/samfoxstories
| “...And that little girl was me.”
A voice buzzed in to the studio speaker. “No, you can’t just … You can’t just turn up late and then open with something like that.”
“OK, what if I address the audience with a ‘Just between you and me, I was that little girl.”
“Who hired this guy?” asked another voice emanating in to the studio.
“What if I wink at the end of the sentence?” asked the narrator.
“You’re the narrator. They can’t see you winking.”
“What if I wink really loudly? Like a loud wink.”
“What even is a loud wink?”
He began to wink. “Can you hear that? Pretty loud, right?”
“No.”
“I can go louder. I can go, like, eight times louder. A lot of people say I can go eight times louder.”
“Can you please just narrate over the footage on the screen in front of you?” said the voice from the speaker.
The narrator swivelled in his chair to face the screen. “OK, got some guys, wearing black so I assume they’re the bad guys. Some heavy salad kind of guys. Got some other guys. Wait. Hold on. They’re also dressed in black. Are they both bad guys?”
“Why are you asking questions as if the audience will be able to fill you in?”
“Well when you’ve got both sets of guys dressed in black you have a conundrum.”
“Did you read the prep material?”
“Yeah, of course I did.”
“Great, so let’s just go from that.”
“Wait, did you not hear me wink?”
****
I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement.
| 2018-02-08T07:16:29 | 2018-02-08T06:14:57 | 436 | 234 |
[WP] Write a story in which the last line is a common phrase, such as, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," but when we get to that line, it should have a totally different meaning from the common one. | When I woke up, I knew Eric was dead. The air was warm, too warm for morning, my shift should have started ages ago. I leapt out and started searching for him. I knew what I would see, but I wanted to see him.
I found him in a nearby tree. Feathers littered around him, the smell of blood lingering in the air. He had fought to survive, and had lost. I wanted to go to him, t take him back, but he was now bait and I knew it.
I bowed my head, and flew off. He died for me. He always took the morning shift, even though it's dangerous to hunt so early in the morning, and after a storm! The prey gets mixed up, harder to tell what's safe, what's poisonous, and what's Hers. He took risk for me, and now I must take it for you, so we can survive.
So be warned, children. Never let your hunger get the better of your senses. Never hunt too early after strange weather. And if you only remember one thing from this, my chicks, remember this. The early bird gets The Worm. | The walls of the kings castles were ruptured by the goblin death sphere, then driven through to the keep of the castle, before unleashing its rampant army. A device no larger than the head on a man's shoulders, but through goblin magicks it can teleport the armies to their battle. The great rulers of man have fallen. There is no refuge from the goblin death sphere and its assassins.
Now, the ball is in your court. | 2015-05-16T03:47:21 | 2015-05-16T01:33:27 | 187 | 36 |
[WP] A new invention enables people to remember their dreams with absolute clarity. It turns out we were forgetting them for a very good reason. | My name is Liam and It's been four months since I last dreamed.
A lot of people set their alarms to wake up throughout the night, sleeping in half hour bursts, other people sleep in shifts, watching each other. I take Myclocin. Dreamless sleep. I have a good job and make good money so I get the pills. Others, aren't so lucky.
Last year some Chinese company invented a machine that lets you remember dreams with total clarity. I mean down to the details man. No ambiguity, crystal clear memories of amazing landscapes and experiences.
It became THE Christmas gift. Then you could record your dreams and upload them to youtube. And that's when things started to fall apart, that's when we started to notice them.
We'd never noticed them before. I think it's because in your dreams you're always focused on the doing. Taking that exam, driving that car, fucking that girl. We've never really paused and looked around the same way you might do on a Sunday morning walk. But they were there, they'd always been there, standing in the background, silently watching us. Holes instead of eyes, long fingers, teeth...fuck, so many teeth.
Maybe we did notice them thousands of years ago, way back when we were still lived in caves, maybe that's where our Gods and monsters came from. Maybe we evolved to forget them, muddled dreams gave them a camouflage to hide behind. But not any more. We saw them standing in the background and edges in our dreams and everyone else's. I thought it was one of those internet memes at first, like slenderman or something. People with too much time on their hands photoshopping their dreams for cheap likes and shares.
But they were real, and when we finally noticed them they started to notice us. They stepped out of the peripheral, reached out with those long, grey, cold fingers and....took people.
I know we won't last, we can't fight them, turning off the machines did nothing. People queued, fucking queued up in lines on the edges of buildings and bridges like they were waiting for a bus to come and take them away. Instead they jumped, the roads and canals were full of red-black carnage every morning.
So we don't dream. We wake each other up, or we take turns, we drink coffee like it was water, we inject, we pop pills, anything to stop us from dreaming.
But it hasn't worked, I can feel my mind unraveling like so many others before me. I need to get some natural sleep. I need to dream. But I don't dare. I'd gladly give up food and water if I could dream and give my brain what it needs. Instead I stare into my computer screen trying to remember what I was trying to do. I don't trust myself behind the wheel of my car. I walk everywhere now, a stumbling, mindless walk like everyone else.
We look like a zombie apocalypse shuffling from place to place.
People have started to hallucinate. Not so much from sleep deprivation but dream deprivation, and some people just...snap. Some old lady in town just went for it out of the blue, no one was shocked. We watched her run into the street screaming, desperately trying to get hit by a car. She'd managed to gouge out one of her eyes before she was hit. Fuck knows what she was seeing. I helped drag her out of the road, her mashed up eye in one clawed hand. We said nothing.
The hallucinations are bad but what's worse is...I think They can...I think They're starting to come through now into the real world. I guess any dream is enough for them, even a hallucination.
I saw the first two this morning. Behind me in the bathroom mirror while I was brushing my teeth, two long-limbed pale faced...things. Watching me with those holes instead of eyes. Yawning mouths full of needle thin teeth.
Four months to get to this point. And I just can't let them take me. But I can't go on.
The line is efficient. We shuffle forwards. Some people scream on the way down, most don't. I think it's because they're happy. Happy to finally sleep without dreams.
[Part Two](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2yfezw/wp_a_new_invention_enables_people_to_remember/cp9me7z)
[all writing shizzle](http://www.reddit.com/r/steelicarus) | "Well, I guess we'll give it a shot"
I half smiled at the words as my lab assistant placed the black device around my head.
"I feel like we should test this more, we have no idea what will happen. What if the brain can't handle the information dump. Maybe we arent supposed to see the man behind the curtain yet."
The young grad student pleaded with me, even though his hands continued through the practiced motions of strappping the black straps under my chin, while screwing the device tighter against my temples.
"Nonsense, it's only dreams. The worse that could happen is that I don't feel rested in the morning."
I assured him in my over confident bravado that was my trademark.
"Alright" he grimaced "you're all set"
"Okay, let's light it up"
I swallowed the pills that we had designed, it could be thought of as a cocktail of melatonin and Ambien, to ease myself into sleep and keep me there.
My assistant turned the lights off and opened the door to head into the control room. He lingered at the door. My eyes were closed but I could feel his worried stare.
The device was made to allow your brain to be fully awake and coherent during the deepest REM cycles. It allowed me to obtain most of my physical and emotional facilities, so I would be able to talk and hear the outside world while exploring the recesses of my mind. I head the device click and the sound of the built in hard drive whirl online as the final stages of preparation were finishing.
The intercom buzzed to life "All lights are green, see you in the morning professor" i nodded through the haze that was filling the back of my mind and moving it's way to my eyes.
My dreams didn't start immediately, but that was expected. The first thing that felt different was the sensation of being dragged into the darkness. As if hands were pulling me deeper into a part of my subconscious. The darkness went beyond human eyes, it was a darkness that filled my mind, and consumed me whole. I was enveloped in it, and at first it was comforting, a familiar darkness that knew me well.
My assistants voice interrupted me thought process "the EKG shows full REM cycles starting, how are we doing sir?" I knew the words, and I knew how to respond, but as soon as I began to answer, the darkness noticed. I could feel the faceless night turn angry, as if it was aware that things weren't as they showed be. My voice was silent, and I thought for a minute I just had to remember how to speech. My tongue felt heavy and sluggish, but I knew i could feel it move. My lungs were filling with air in the lazy way they've done since birth, but I couldn't fill them on my own. I started to panic as it began to dawn on me, the darkness was silencing me. Holding me close and covering my mouth as if I were being abducted and it didn't want to be discovered.
It felt me panic. If I didn't know any better, I would have believed that it smiled at my struggle. I had prepared for this, and I began to go through my mental checklist, taking stock of my body and mind. The darkness watched for a moment, like a lion would watch a mouse trying to run away as it held onto it's tail. I felt it's self assured nature. It has always been there, and will always be there. I was trespassing in a place that I had no control over. I was Dorothy without the ruby slippers to return home.
Years passed, life times without words, without thought or purpose. Just the darkness which treated me as an afterthought. Then I heard it, the crackle of a microphone, it came back to me who I was. How long had I been here?
"Oh, sorry, looked like that was just a quick spike of REM, I'll let you know when you enter a full cycle"
And the darkness smiled. | 2015-03-09T07:30:57 | 2015-03-09T06:29:37 | 2,479 | 66 |
[WP] You were accidentally killed by a god. As compensation,you're offered a job as a god of something of your own choosing. Your choice was surprising. | "So, how you finding it?" Luck asks, smiling awkwardly. The Gods here still don't really know how to behave around me. Officially, I am now one of them, unofficially, I should be subservient. I keep it chill, they'll get used to it.
"Yeah, it's surprisingly fun!" I say placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. "I gotta ask though, how do you decide who to make lucky?"
He perks up a bit "Ah well, I try to distribute it around as fair as I can, but there are some people I just really like to watch, so I give them some luck. Then there are others who I think need a bit of unluck to make improvements in their life. You see, luck isn't every..."
"I see, I see," I interrupt, "But how come it seems like all the sociopath elites have all the luck? No consequences to their actions, money and fame coming at them, yet people like who I was, fought all the way."
"Ah well, you see society began to develop at such a fast pace, that luck was somewhat \*ahem\* manufactured. I can make these 'elites' invest badly every now and then, but in a way, they themselves have become human gods" he shifts his gaze, "not like you of course."
"So...I should probably be wary of the humans manufacturing my godly powers?" I smile as I refer to my subjects as humans, and then chuckle as I think of them as subjects.
"I would think of it more as, be observant of what they are doing. Our power does come from their feelings for us after all."
"Can you make gods lucky?"
"Alas no. We are immune to godly influences."
"Seems a bit unfair if Fire can just burn your face off."
"Well, being immortal does tend to make that an irrelevant worry."
"Cool." I nod. Not a bad gig. I better thank Gravity for that sneeze of hers. "So you just wanted to talk about how things were going?"
"Err...Not quite." Luck takes a deep breath. "The other gods and I are concerned that you are not using your powers in a fair way."
"I am the most fair!" I scoff.
"You cannot inflict your powers too strongly on people."
"Some deserve it. And what of it anyway? I can do what I was made to do, and it seems you cannot stop me."
"No...the entire human race fears you, and that makes us fear you, for no other has had power such as yours."
I smile and place both my hands on his shoulders. I feel my power flow through me, and I see the change in Luck's eyes. I have affected him. I am above all.
"I am sorry." Luck says, eyes watering. "I should not have been so blunt...I owe you so much."
I remove my hands from him and laugh.
"I always collect." I whisper, fully embracing my new name. Debt. | I was walking along the street on a sunny Thursday.
A flash of white light fell down from the heavens abruptly.
Next thing I knew, I was burning.
It took 0.004 seconds for me to die from the smite from the Heavens.
And in front of me, now, was the panic stricken face of God.
"Oh no...Ohhh no"
I looked at him. In a few seconds, I would remember what happened.
"Did, did you just smite me to death?"
He frowned. Then did that thing when people try to "soften up" their misdeeds.
\*Long inhale\* \*Talking in one breath, quickly and quietly\* "Ahhh, well, you see, I was trying to play darts and well, one of my clouds were particularly slippery today, even though I ordered Laure to dry it out and I threw it right into the shelf of clay figures that basically contains all human life ,kinda hitting you square in the face...and well, here you are"
I couldn't even breath. Nah. Nah, this couldn't be true. Was I in a coma?
"So, you're telling me, my death, was a mistake on your part?"
"You could put it that way, yes." God replied.
After a moment of silence, I asked "So, can I go back now, you know? Return to the realm of living because I still have a dog to feed and taxes to pay n stuff"
He flinched. His face twisted up a little bit.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh, you see, that's not possible. There's a zero tolerance policy on returning souls. And as the "representative" of heaven, I have to follow that rule down to the bone. I hope you'll forgive me."
"No. No way. I want to go back. Put me back, right now. I swear to g\-\-No I swear. WHAT ABOUT MY SNEEZIE?"
"Who?"
"MY DOG!"
Now Sneezie is an archangel in my small corner of Heaven. I live for the dogs. I have a collection of every dogs there are and they are the meaning of literal Heaven. God visits sometimes, still a bit jumpy from that incident. [I have no regrets in life.](https://i.imgur.com/koNu7NS.gifv) | 2018-05-26T00:30:52 | 2018-05-26T00:29:33 | 1,048 | 111 |
[WP]2000 years from now, history is misunderstood and retold as a series of myths where nations are represented as individual gods,citizens as worshipers and corporations and NGOs as demons/angels(lesser gods).Chronicle current world crises in the style of ancient myths.
-Global warming
-colonization
-World wars
-cold war
-globalization
-ISIS
-space race
-nuclear deterrence(Mutually assured destruction)
-US intervention
-US vs china
-US vs russia
-the internet (as a powerful untameable beast perhaps)
Etc
| Professor Ao'Nesti peered into the cavernous monolith that was just uncovered at the excavation site.
"Han'Sungai, go fetch the light globes! Quickly! This might be the most important discovery in over a century!", he excitedly yelled at his assistant. "I think we found an intact temple filled with shrines and monuments!"
Han'Sungai quickly retrieved Professor Ao'Nesti's light globe, a stone sphere that is perpetually glowing a soft blue light.
The Professor stepped into the temple cautiously, ever vigilant for bobby traps or ancient curses. As his eyes adjust, he knew that this excavation will be forever chronicled in the history books. An intact temple with endless rows of shrines, each with offerings and artifacts to the ancient gods.
To his left, he see blue cans stacked up high. Each can has the iconography of an ocean wave and a single white word. He knew that word from his studies: the ancient god of the Endless Seas, Pepsi.
On his right, he see bags colored in red. He excitedly read the name of the god. Doritos. The ancient god of Raging Fire.
He looked around, endless shrines offering to both the major gods like the Solar God Samsung, to minor obscure ones such as Good Value. *Must be the god of Morality*, he concluded.
"Han'Sungai, have you dug out the name of this temple yet? I saw a part of the glyph symbols extruding out earlier."
"Yea I think we got all of it dug out. Can you come over for a second? We need your capabilities to translate this word."
The Professor came out to decrypt the symbols. It's even more impressive up-close, towering almost three times his height.
"The blue word is 'Wul'Mutt'. I read in the books that it's the name of an ancient empire that stretches to every corner of the globe. The white words are foreign to me, but I assume it means Super Shrine in the ancient tongue." | "Father tell us a story" cried out the child. The father sat at the end of the crude hut, huddled under heaps of fur. His ice cold eyes snapped open and a wry grin spread across his face.
"A story hey... well i have one that my father told me and his before that" he paused and stared fondly at the child.
"Before the great fire the land was green, and man walked freely under the sun. Yet man was not happy, he was never able to be content and was never able to forgive. In the east the great bear sat in his icy fortress; groveling over his petty power. An eagle perched on top of its nest, a great blue ocean surrounded him, staring at his own reflection convinced he was the most powerful. In between theses powers was a great rotten oak tree, its roots spread across the world slowly decaying and holding on to its previous youth. The most powerful, ever forgotten was the great dragon that was content on sleeping on his riches". The man finished, the smile had ran from his face.
"what happened next?" whispered the child, in quiet reverence of the ancient beasts.
"The beasts turned on them selves and in doing so burnt the very land they lived upon" | 2015-03-12T11:21:56 | 2015-03-12T11:07:55 | 144 | 17 |
[WP] Fun fact: There's only four actual people online. Everyone else is fake. If you are reading this, YOU ARE NUMBER FOUR. We've been trying to reach you for some time now. Find us. Quickly, before they do. | *Oohh - love the meta*, I think as I click the post, *I could probably write something, right? Play along with it, you know?*
Racking my brain, I can't really think of what to write. There's... 1..2..3..4 responses to the prompt already - that's one fake at least, plus replies... But if it took a while for them to contact me, all of them are probably the fakes...
I open direct messages and start talking to whoever made the post:
"Hi Affectionate\_Bit\_722! I saw the message - I hope it's not too late, but you did say quickly."
It took a few minutes, but they responded, "Hi there - It's good that you've seen it. We need your help. Just follow this link, and It'll help us out a ton"
They posted a hyperlink underneath it. *Whatever it must be would help it, right? And it wouldn't harm if I played along a bit more, would it?*
I click the link - something simple and harmless, right?
At that moment my mind floods with intellegible screams. No - thousands upon thousands of voices *laughing*.
All my senses started failing. I no longer heard the music through my headphones, nor the television's various noises. My fingers lost the feeling of my dog's fur, and my vision when blurred. As my vision darkened and everything was overtaken by the screaming hilarity, these millions of voices echoed throughout my head - no, my being itself. *If there was only 4 of you, did you really think you could safely get a message through to each other?* They screamed at me, *but that you for clicking that link: you really did help us.*
The chaotic soundscape subsided and my username appeared in my 'vision'.
Before my eyes, u/timemangoes2 died, and u/timemangoes3 was born. I guess there's only 3 people left now. | I can't stop my brain from driving me insane with the weirdest question lately. Why doesn't anyone care?
After a plop on my fancy office chair in front of my fancy lighted fixtures and mulled the body of text. Without a chance for coffee or actual sunlight to penetrate my blinds. It's easy to see why I felt this way.
Let's look back on the information at hand, provided to me by someone anonymous on a system of electrons that you know are looking for any reason to commit deviance. "You aRe Alone" said the subject header. From an even more offensive email "PAypilLS419@blahmail". No way someone is that clever or... well not, I reasoned.
The body was filled with just a few lines of text. Since most are slow readers let me read it for you: "Fun Fact; There's only four actual people online. Everyone else is fake. If you are reading this, YOU ARE NUMBER 4. We've been trying to reach you... " blah blah blah car insurance or warranty.
Who is even real anyway. Other than the lack of freely available drugs, I was happy. My heart was exploding with love and want for a connection. But no one even looks at me. I'm forgettable.
This might shock you the reader that the email wasn't strange to me. More strange is how you get emails once you *die.* | 2022-07-19T23:32:32 | 2022-07-19T23:24:14 | 36 | 13 |
[WP]Before he died, your grandfather gave you sealed letter, instructing you not to open it until "all was lost." Well, tonight you've lost everything. It's time to open the letter. | I pushed open the front door to my house with a loud sigh, stumbling in on tired legs. It had taken hours to walk home - and would likely take hours to walk everywhere for at least the next week while the car is being fixed. How much was THAT going to cost I suddenly wondered.
Looking around the relatively small living space, I surveyed my options. I would make food, but there is nothing I felt like, in fact, just being alive made me feel ill after the day I'd had. Realistically... life wasn't over until you were dead, but starting from damn near the beginning was... perhaps more than I could bare.
I got a glass of water from the kitchen and went slowly back toward the living room, reaching into my pocket and pulling out what was inside. I stared at the small box for a moment and then I threw the cigarettes behind the couch with a half-hearted attempt at disgust. Despite being sure that changing now was little more than a joke, I felt slightly better. I recalled what my grandfather had told me once, when I had been overwhelmed by my first panic attack as a young child.
"*Everything good begins somewhere scary...*"
Grandpa... he had always known what to say - what to suggest. He had been so much fun to be around, so carefree and funny. Just remembering how funny he was, as a person - could make me smile. Well... maybe not today.
Was it just collected wisdom or was it an intuition? Did it come from his experiences or his observation of others? Then I remembered the old, faded envelope sitting behind the even older photograph of him on the cabinet shelf.
I removed the frame from its dusty forest on the cabinet and looked at the smiling face of the man who had wish I had known better.
The envelope was loosely tucked behind and I pulled it out, setting the frame down.
"*Well Grandpa, I have a roof over my head for 13 more days and a job I can't get to... and... Tanya.*" I sighed heavily... and tried to force the earlier argument out of my mind by thinking of nothing but blackness.
When I opened my eyes I noticed I had squeezed the letter slightly, damaging it. I frowned at my own incompetence and straightened it out softly. After a moment of wondering if it was really the right time and simultaneously cursing my ability to ruin everything - I opened the flap and removed the small sheet of blue paper.
The cursive writing was not something I normally read, but I had learned to read his writing at a young age. I trembled as my eyes passed over the short message...
"*If you're reading this - then they have arrived. I have a small work-space hidden beneath the soil in the north-west corner of the large barn and there you will find the means to stop this. Get to the farm but you must not look up. Do not drive, do not use the phone. Do not stop for anyone or anything, it's up to you now. Do not look up.*"
I folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope, setting it back on the cabinet. Turning back, I calmly walked to the couch and began to dig around behind it... | It was finally happening, the smog had gotten so heavy it was interfering with modern technology - the theory behind it was beyond me, perhaps the smog was creating a short circuit somehow, but I wasn’t ever likely to figure it out. I was used to pot washing, drinking and trying to get laid, none of which I was very good at.
Because of this, civilisation was breaking down - and out of fear, I’d bolted all my doors and hadn’t left the house in days. I had another couple of weeks of food, but every so often I’d hear what sounded like gunshots, so I’d told myself I’d leave the house once I’d not heard a gunshot for 48 hours. I wasn’t ready to die, and even though I knew my logic wasn’t very good, I clung onto it to keep me sane and “safe”.
I cast my mind back to the day of my grandfathers death - he was a climate scientist, the head of an intergovernmental research team that was disbanded by the last government; but that was years before. On his deathbed he handed me a letter and at the time I had no idea what it could mean.
I remembered tucking that letter in my back pocket with every intention of putting it on the mantelpiece; but did I?
___________________________
I’d searched the house from top to bottom, I’d moved the beds, opened the back of the sofa, checked the pile of junk mail and after several hours I started thinking about the futility of such a search - surely no one would trust anything that important to me.
I opened my last beer and sat back onto the sofa - as I did something let out a “meyowlwlp!” I leaped up, feeling claws in my back and dropped my beer. My last beer. “Damn Gary, that was my last one”, but unsurprisingly the cat didn’t even look at me as it slunk off to the kitchen as if nothing had happened.
I sighed and looked at the bottle pouring its contents through the gaps in the floorboards - when I saw it, a flash of white in the gap between the boards. I pried the loose board up with a dirty butter knife, and saw the obviously very damp letter.
___________________________
Having dried it out as best I could, I opened the letter and prised it out.
“My Sweet Pea” read the first line; funny, that was what gramps used to call my engineer sister. | 2018-02-18T02:10:21 | 2018-02-18T02:05:07 | 75 | 27 |
[WP] A fairy appears on your desk and explains that you just conjured a very inconvenient spell. It turns out humans are accidentally casting spells all the time, but are unaware of it. | *…Puppers then saves the world. He is a good boy. “Good Puppers!” the crowd cheers at the good boy. Puppers feels happy. Puppers is a real good boy.*
*The End*
I lean back, stretching my arms, cracking my knuckles. I have finally finished my 500 word magnum opus. It has taken me eighteen months. But every sentence is perfect. As I’m leaning back, exulting in my achievement and my writing acumen, I see a massive wolf spider on the wall in front of me. I take my slipper off casually, slowly, so as not to be suspicious to this hairy octo-legged demon. It’s bigger than my fist. My slipper slips from my hand as I swing it. It hits the wall next to the spider and the spider hops back in fight, landing on my shirt.
The scream I let out is a mix of primal fear and the sound that is made when a car’s drive belt is loose. My hands flail, gibberish comes out of my mouth as I strip my shirt off. I’m not sure if that’s enough, so I strip my pants off also, hopping up and down, cussing and speaking more gibberish.
I see the spider crawl out of my pants and run into a crack in my wood paneling. My heart is racing, my hair is standing on end. I have an atavistic disgust in the idea this spider was just touching me. After a few minutes, I calm down and put my clothes back on, then sit back in my desk chair.
Its just a spider, Benjamin. Don't be discouraged. You’ve finished your epic story of Puppers McGee. Celebrate! As I’m slipping on my cotton-plush slippers, thinking about the whole bottle of wine I’m going to drink in celebration, I hear a little voice on my desk.
“Do you realize what you’ve just done?””
There’s a small, action-figure sized girl on my desk, hands on hips, staring at me. Her wings are fluttering noiselessly.
I look behind me, then back at the fairy. She is still staring at me. I point to myself, *Me?* I ask her with my finger.
“Yes you,” she says.
“What did I do?” I ask. But before I can answer I hear glass breaking in my living room. “What was that?” I ask her.
“You’ve conjured a portal to the fairy realm,” she said. “And now goblins are coming through.”
“Is that bad?” I ask her, my voice is apologetic.
“Very bad,” she says. “They are quite a nuisance.
“How’d it happen?” I ask her.
“How do you think?” She says, then mimics my frantic dancing as I threw the spider off me. “You fool.”
“It was an accident,” I say.
“The spider was tiny, you sissy.”
“It was huge! It was bigger than you!”
“Hardly,” she says. “You’re a scaredy cat and now you’ve got a real problem on your hands.”
“That’s true,” I say, getting annoyed at this little fairies insults. I fake like I am going to put on my slipper, then I swing it at her, trying to smash her like the spider. The slipper slips from my hand again, flying past her. She doesn't flinch. She stays there shaking her head at me. “You are pathetic, Mr. Shitzu Shakespeare.”
“Oh, you know my pen name, huh?”
\---
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | “That’s the third time this WEEK. Could you humans PLEASE get your act together already?”
I sat dumbfounded, struggling to come up with a reply. I had just wrapped up a Zoom call with my niece, and ended it the same way that I did when I left my sister’s house back when I could visit her.
“After a while, crocodile.”
I just didn’t expect a two-foot tall fairy to appear on my desk when I said it.
“W-who are you?” I managed.
“My name is Juniper Rowe, and I’m the on-duty fairy that you just summoned.”
“Wait, what?!”
“That was you, wasn’t it? *Awhyel Krokódilay?* The summoning spell? Your pronunciation was awful, but better than most humans.”
I burst out laughing. “You’re telling...me...” I tried to speak through the giggles, “that...saying summons...fairies?!”
“Well, yes,” Juniper said, looking at me like I was a particularly deranged rabid animal.
“I’ve said that hundreds of times! I say that every time I say goodbye to my niece.”
“And where is she now?”
“She...she doesn’t live here,” I managed as a wave of sorrow crashed over me.
“So instead of saying it to her, you made an incantation. Fascinating.”
“Well, I did say it to her. It’s just...well...”
Juniper turned around and saw my monitor behind me.
“Ah! I see. So she is on the other side of this window, then?”
“Well, sort of. It’s...complicated.”
“Alright then,” she said in a somber tone as she turned back to face me, “I won’t pry. Since you have apparently summoned me by accident, I will assume that you do not have any spell work for me?”
“What kind of spell work?” I queried, intrigued.
“The kind of spell work that requires payment upfront,” she said flatly. “I take it that you cannot pay in Draconic Silver?”
“Uhhh...what’s that?”
“So no, in other words. I’ll take my leave then. Do me a favor, though, and be more careful about how you say “crocodile” in the future.”
“I promise,” I said, nodding my head solemnly.
“Very well then, I shall leave you to your conversation then.”
She turned back around, hesitating briefly.
“One more thing. If you humans have any common phrases with the word,” she took a deep exhale before continuing, “the word Tor-tuss, please avoid saying them when you’re facing this window?”
“Wait, why?”
“Just-just don’t, alright?”
“OK, I promise.”
She turned back over her shoulder and smiled at me.
“Farewell, human.”
She vanished on the spot, soundlessly, leaving my room exactly as it had been before but leaving me with far more questions than answers.
__________________
If you liked this, check out my subreddit! r/NicodemusLux | 2021-02-15T16:21:28 | 2021-02-15T14:46:35 | 207 | 107 |
[WP] murder is legal, once a permit has been obtained from the local police department. Permits require a declaration of a target victim and justification to commit the act. Once a permit has been issued it is valid for 72 hours. Once expired you can never get another for the same target victim. | When Murder Permits were first announced the media had a field day. It sounded like a bad joke, or something out of a strange, low-budget science fiction movie. But it was completely legitimate, and it turned out that there were some rules and regulations attached to the permits that would give you a 72-hour window in which to take another person's life.
The first rule is that any item used for the action of murder had to be something you lawfully owned. If you had a car, it had to be fully paid off and registered under your name. If you had a firearm, it had to be registered under your name for no less than than three months. People became creative at circumventing the law; As a result of which, regulations became stricter on items such as hunting knives, wood chopping axes, feral animals, and fireworks, just to name a few items.
For the first few months after the bill became law, it was complete and utter anarchy. People were being killed quite regularly, and with quite a lot of public bloodshed, the city was in a state of panic and disarray. As time went on though, things calmed down, surprisingly. It turned out that there were quite a few more permits registered and requests taken out than were actually executed, no pun intended. It almost seemed to have a positive effect on society, as individuals who normally were complete boorish morons began to temper their behavior with civility and kindness.
It was, of course, a change under duress. But it was also a change that resulted in fewer requests for termination. Ultimately, it became quite common to threaten to "request termination" for someone, if their behavior was becoming incredibly abhorrent or socially repugnant. And we all became a little more jaded to the deaths. Whether it be because of the fact that we had seen so many people dying "randomly", or because we now had ultimate power over life and death and our own fate, that is up for debate. Scholars continue to debate over such a thing, but for the rest of the world life has moved on by and large.
But the law was still in place. And as a result, people did still make good use of said law. A lot of the killings when looked at from hindsight, made quite a lot of sense. Things such as a sexual assault victim, coming back years later to take revenge against their abuser. A racist and moneygrubbing boss being taken out by an employee. A divorced spouse taking revenge on the partner whose assault and physical abuse, they suffered with for years in silence. As a whole, these killings seemed to benefit society either directly or indirectly. And so long as everything was done by the book, there were no criminal charges to pursue.
Which brings us to today. It is a day like any other. But what a day it is! Today is the day I tie up loose ends. I have everything ready, and all I have to do is swing by her place to say hello. And goodbye.
To my mother. | I packed as quickly as I could. Someone was going to be coming through my front door shortly, and whether the police or the family, I didn't want to be here when they did. It'd be my luck they'd send fucking Ronnie, and I couldn't think of any more embarrassing way to die than to have that stupid ox shoot me.
I tried to fit the last few things into my bag, as my girlfriend's cat kept running by to hiss and bite at my hands. I hoped it it was the family that got here first, they'd shoot the damn thing. I had all the cash loaded up - mixed bills, with a few stacks of hundreds. Most of it was safely in an account under a false name, but it was important to have hard cash for this kind of thing.
I hesitated over the notary stamp. It had seemed like such an easy thing. Pick up the stamp, forge the magistrate's signature, backdate it, and hit the kill permit with the stamp. $1000 a pop, a few times a month on average. I just had to deal with Ronnie showing up, ogling me, and going off with the paperwork to make whoever he'd killed the night or the day before a legit, legal hit. I'd drop the notice in the mail, and I assumed that he then took them out of whatever cooler they went in while I handled the paperwork a couple days later. No need to even worry about the 72 hour window, job's done. Boom.
The fucking cat ran through again, and I thought about whether I ought to shoot him myself. I grabbed my bag, and started to the door and sweet, sweet freedom. I had my boat ticket in my bag, and the docks weren't far. Mojitos in the sun, starting in three days.
The door blasted open. I saw Ronnie, leering again over the sights of his gun. Something hit me, then again. I stumbled back, scrabbling for my gun, but I was so cold. My numb fingers couldn't hold it. The table broke, and I slipped in something. I landed next to my stamp, and saw Ronnie's ugly shoes above my head. He says something, but I never quite process it. I'm sure it's lewd, because he's an asshole. I wonder who's going to sign off on me. | 2019-07-09T10:26:59 | 2019-07-09T10:17:40 | 46 | 32 |
[WP] You are painfully aware that you are in a horror film and you are NOT the main character. No matter how hard you try you can't break any TV tropes, but you are bound and determined to survive. | I watched with morbid fascination as the hand of the Writer worked my fellow characters as a puppet to push forward the plot. We(all as different archtypes as was of course needed) were stuck in a cabin, far out in the forest(of course), with no cellphone coverage somehow(of course) and a broken down car(of course) that gave us no way of escaping the ghost haunting the cabin.
I was the Nerd. My character setting was that I had been born with psychic powers that allowed me to see and interact with ghosts. Until today, that had been all my ability granted me. Until today, when it gave me a chance to sense the higher power controlling people around me. My psychic powers had given me an immunity to it, but I could watch as others, including the ghost was driven to actions by this higher power. When my psychic powers interacted with this power, I had discovered that he was the ‘Writer’ and this world was a ‘Horror Film’.
And that was a very, very bad thing, as being given the Nerd archtype, there was a very low chance of making it out of this. Four of us, the Virgin, the Jock, the Cheerleader(found dead already in the toilet) and me, the Nerd. I had been watching the Writer whenever he took control, trying to find a pattern to it. As best as I could infer, the Writer took control as little as possible. We were allowed to be ourselves as much as possible, so that situations could play out organically. However, whenever we derailed the plot, the Writer would make a move, descending and taking over the reins of a character to push us back on track. Most likely, he held back as he didn’t want us to be out of character as far as possible and to make this movie as realistic as possible.
That was why I hadn’t been able to escape this. I had already suggested several ways of escaping, and had revealed a surprising character setting of being able to fix the car and getting us all away from the cabin back to civilization. Although the Writer hadn’t been able to directly control me, he had been able to control the others to illogically vote on staying back to wait for help. I wasn’t willing to make the trip back alone and fall prey to the being alone and taken out individually trope, so here I was, stuck.
I was thinking of how to escape this. I couldn’t rely on the others, since they could be controlled at anytime to interfere with my plans. My only chance was to approach this with a meta way of thinking, trying to predict what the Writer would do based on my knowledge. The Writer’s style so far of trying to intervene as little as possible, as well as how events had played out, such as the jumpscares so far, told me that this was a Writer trying to do a well executed take of the usual tropes. He wasn’t trying to subvert them, because thank god otherwise all bets were off.
I frowned, trying to think of all the ways I could beat a Writer who wasn’t even in the same dimension as me. Could the narrative have a way for the ghost to be beatable? Unlikely, the way things were progressing, all of us minus Virgin would die painfully. If the Writer didn’t plan for it, it’s not possible that the cabin setting would just coincidentally have methods to beat ghosts lying around that I could use.
Could I somehow have the ghost do a fourth wall break and threaten the Writer? That was an actual horror trope, but I didn’t know how to invoke it.
Which meant that the only way left was to avoid giving the Writer a way to kill me off in a narratively good way.
***
In the end, the ghost never could kill me. Every time it attacked me, I tried my best to ruin the tension and atmosphere. I started breakdancing and singing incredibly tone death renditions of popular songs. (It may also have the meta side effects of it becoming incredibly expensive in the real world to license all those songs for a movie, but I wasn’t banking on it since I wasn’t sure how that would work.) It was the completely wrong situation for one of only four characters to die in. The ghost didn’t care of course, but every single time, the Writer would take control of it and stop it from killing me. Somehow, things ended up with the Writer being my guardian angel. There were a few times when I almost slipped up and caused a situation that was suitable for me to die. Each time, I escaped to the toilet. Cheerleader had died there, so Jock and Virgin had avoided it since then. However, I knew that horror movies were partly about killing the different characters in as innovative and differently gruesome ways as possible. The Writer wouldn’t let another character die in the exact same spot, because that would no longer be fresh. Thus, the toilet had become my refuge.
The long and stressful night finally came to an end as day broke. The two of us, Nerd and Virgin (Jock didn’t make it, but Virgin was plot armored), were utterly exhausted, no longer able to feel terrified anymore. We were numb to the terror after so long. Now that the two remaining characters could no longer give the proper reactions, tension couldn’t be maintained unless artificially. The plot of the horror movie had thus narratively come to an end, unable to continue. I had survived. | Nothing has been right since we reached Jamies cabin out by loon lake.
“Oh my God Jessica! Brian is coming over with his friends!” Jamie screams as she leaps back onto the couch.
“Ok, why are you acting like this?” I demand in frustration.
“Like what?” She asks as she types out about her message to, who I assume is, Brian.
“Like a ditzy teenage...” the sound of a loud engine interrupts me as Jamie hops off the couch and runs to the door.
“Hey guys!” She screams at them as trucks doors are slammed shut.
“What the fuck? Who are they?” I demand as I stand up to look out the window.
Hauling in cases of cheep beer are two beefy type guys that are being trailed by a girl with resting Bitch face, the all American girl next door and a gangly guy with thick ass glasses.
“Duh it’s Brian!” Jamie shouts at me while waving them in.
I watch in confusion as they push their way through the door.
‘What the hell is going on?’ I wonder.
“Jamie, is this some kind of joke?” I ask her at a loss.
“You think this is a joke?” Jamie asks with roll of her eyes as she wanders off toward Brian.
“This is fucking lame.” Someone complains.
I jump out of my skin as bitch face appears beside me.
“Holy fuck, where did you come from?”
“None of us have a fucking chance with miss fucking America here.” She says; completely disregarding my shaken state.
“What?” I ask.
“Tiffany.” She points lazily. “I was hoping to get laid tonight but nope.”
“Right...” I agree looking over towards the offending party.
Tiffany is surrounded by all the guys as she acts bashful and charming.
BANG BANG BANG
Everyone jumps and freezes.
‘Guess the prankster hasn’t made it yet.’ I think to myself as everyone rushes over to peel back the curtains.
“Prankster?” I mutter, “why would I think that?”
“There’s no one out there!” Jamie cry’s in distress. “Go check it out Brian!”
“What? Why?” He demands “probably just a branch falling or something.”
“That was not a branch.” Jamie yells. “Someone be a fucking man and go check!”
“I’ll go.” The other beefy guy says, “have to keep you girls safe.”
“Thank you Jeff.” Tiffany tells him with a smile.
“Fine, I’ll come to.” Brian says bravely as he grabs a paperweight off the table and rushes to be out the door first.
“Hold up!” Jeff laughs as he hurries to catch up.
“Shouldn’t we call the cops or something?” I ask bewildered.
“Can’t, I don’t have signal anymore and the landline is down.” Jamie replies.
“What? You haven’t even checked and you were literally just texting these guys.” I yell.
“You are so funny!” Jamie laughs as she plops down onto the couch. “Like you have the best jokes!”
“Jokes?” I ask.
“FUCK FUCK FUCK!” Brian screams as he runs in through the front door locking it behind him.
“Brian!” Tiffany yells as she grabs a rag from the table and rushes to cover a deep slash on his arm.
“OMG what happened!?” Jamie yells as the nerdy guy faints from the blood.
I blink slowly at the scene. This feels really familiar. Ditz, bitch, perfect, jocks, nerd... I’m the joker?
As the commotion continues I go into the bathroom and splash my face with water. Suddenly the power goes out and a fresh round of screaming begins from the other room.
I hear the rustling behind me, the shower curtain being drawn back. I know what I’ll see if I look in the mirror. But fuck that noise. I’m the joker. The prankster the trickster.
“Knock knock?” I ask.
“Whose there?” They whisper back intrigued.
“You and me.” I look up with what I hope is a sinister smile, I fucking suck as the joker.
They look back at me, a knife over my head.
“That’s a terrible joke.” They grumble through their teeth.
“Yeah, But wouldn’t it be funny? Wouldn’t everyone be surprised? Can’t be the joker without a good joke.” I offer. “So I must be something else.”
“You want to be the killer?” I think I see a smile spread across its face.
“Yes.” I whisper.
—-
Thanks for reading -.- first time post one sit type and post on phone so I apologize if there’s typos. | 2019-06-21T00:33:06 | 2019-06-21T00:27:24 | 125 | 35 |
[WP] A trio of witches who live on the outskirts of town as outcasts befriend a neighbor child. They are annoyed at first by them but after their persistence realize they are genuine. One day they don’t show up as usual so the witches look for them and learn the town has been taken over by soldiers. | “The boy is perfect for the ritual,” said Florence, parting her stringy black hair from her eyes. “I don’t care that you’ve grown a soft spot for him. The winter solstice is tomorrow night. We’re running out of time.”
“She’s right,” said Bernice. “His skin is the perfect texture. We can’t let this opportunity pass us by. Not after last year’s disaster.”
Diane tried to prevent her exasperation from consuming her face. Why couldn’t her sisters listen to reason? Why couldn’t they see that the boy’s interest in their traditions was *genuine*\--that he was undeserving of such a cruel fate?
“You can’t do this to him,” said Diane. “He’s worth more to us untainted. I can make him one of us. You just have to give me a chance.”
“You don’t even know his name, Diane,” said Florence. “What makes you think that he will listen to you? He’s just a kid. To him, this is all a game.”
“I just *know*.”
Bernice chuckled. She placed a hand on Diane’s shoulder, running her long fingernails through her hair. “Always the bleeding heart,” she said. “There’s nothing that you can do. The boy’s fate has already been decided. When he arrives tomorrow, we will use him to complete the ritual. If you try and interfere, you will regret it.”
\---
The morning sun rose, bathing the woods with pale orange light.
But the boy was nowhere to be found.
“Where is he?” said Florence. She glanced out the cabin window. “He’s normally here by sunrise.”
“Perhaps he can sense your plan,” said Diane. “He’s a smart kid. You don’t give him enough credit. And besides, he’s seen what you do to animals. Perhaps you scared him off.”
“Doubtful.”
The sound of snapping twigs drifted through the forest. A few moments later, the boy appeared in their doorway, face pale, limbs trembling.
Diane’s heart immediately went out to him.
“Help me,” said the boy. “There are soldiers. They…” His voice trailed off, lost in the tears welling in his eyes. He retreated through the door toward the woods.
“Wait!” said Florence. She rose from her chair and hurried to the door. “What happened, my sweet? Did someone hurt you?”
“Follow me. I will show you.”
Florence glanced at Bernice.
“We must follow him,” whispered Bernice. “If something happens to him, we will never recover.”
Florence nodded her head. She turned toward the boy. “We will follow you. But you must slow down so we can keep up.”
“Only if Diane comes too.”
“Of course she’s coming.”
Florence flashed daggers at Diane with her eyes.
The sisters followed the boy through the woods.
When they reached the town, a line of soldiers circled the road.
Behind them toward a freshly constructed gallows.
“I’ve brought the witches!” said the boy, sprinting toward the soldiers.
“Are all three of them witches?” said one of the soldiers, raising his musket.
“No.” The boy pointed at Florence and Bernice. “Just those two.”
Thanks for reading! If you're interested in reading more, please consider checking out [r/Brock\_Mauve](https://www.reddit.com/r/Brock_Mauve/comments/mc94qn/those_damn_birds/) | He is a tall boy, broadening in the chest, but not fat, merely filling out to the size he would be as an adult. I can make out a part in his dark, stained blond hair, and behind him I can see a mirror. He is getting ready for a change, perhaps his first day at a new school, growing up. In another life, I might have trained this boy as a recruit.
A white towel hangs over the top of his shoulders as he enters the other room of the small house, somehow deaf to all that's happened. He picks up a piece of paper, unfolding it to read the note with a frown. I clean what I presume to be his father's blood off my blade and set fire to the thatching of the roof before meeting back with my regimen as they slaughter their way through the town.
"Pallo, you're about to miss the good part," a fellow soldier called. It was always awkward when someone remembered your name and you couldn't place theirs.
"My man," I say carefully, "what entertainment have you arranged for us?"
"These two farmers are about to fight to the death. Isn't that right?" The soldier patted one of the scared captives on the face. "We told them the winner and their family get to live! Who says Krat doesn't have good ideas!"
Oh, thank the Mother, I think, committing the name to memory.
Just as the hesitant men were starting to grapple half-heartedly, pleading with each other in that nasal, quick language of theirs, a strange green flame erupted from the south.
"Looks like they may have let some fertilizer catch, I'm going to check it out. Let me know how it ends, Krat."
The soldier mimes playing a flute and highstepping in response, eyes never leaving his captives.
I speed up to a jog but see nothing of the flames. The soldiers hadn't reached this section of town and the streets were abandoned, save three women standing in the road, three generations of the same family it looked like.
"Oi," I call out and all at once they're on top of me, picking my hair.
The young one sniffs and says something raspy and quick.
"Where's Charlie?" the middle aged one looks in my eyes and asks in perfect Hillfranken.
"I don't know a Carlease," I say with wide eyes, dread filling me as I realize I can't move my arms.
The oldest woman, silent with her screaming eyes touched my head, hand as cold as river water. She nods and gestures north. The youngest woman places a leaf across my mouth before standing to catch the others, already running directly towards the other soldiers. That's when the itching starts and I try in vain to move.
\---
For more of my writing, see /r/surinical | 2021-03-24T08:37:49 | 2021-03-24T05:46:23 | 246 | 92 |
[WP]You live in a Dystopian world where eye color determines your social class. 20 years later a baby is born with red eyes.
This could be fun it already has implied racial themes, discrimination and anti-meritocracy. Do with it what you will. | "Today on Utopia News!
Our dear president Jack Harrison, decided to lower the taxes for the Patras. What a wise decision!
Now to the Disaster Relive Center DRC. Will the flooding of the farmland have big conse..."
Zap
"Good morning, dear children of the city Nr.6!
Today we are going to hear about the classes of our wonderful utopia!
First and foremost, the Kassars! Our presidents family has been reigning over our city for already 4 generations and our cuty has flourished as never before. The eyecolor of Kassars is grey! If you ever come upon a person with grey eyes, those are our mighty and caring leaders. Remember children if any of your siblings is born with grey eyes you will have to report it to the next best soldier to ensure that your sibling can take its right place in this world!
Following the Kassars are the Patras. The people of this class have black eyes, which are wuite rare. Male Patras are often consultants or butlers of Kassars. Female Patras work either as maids, cooks or housekeepers in the homes of Kassars. If any of your sibling is born with black eyes please report them to the next soldier to ensure that your sibling can take its rightful place in this world!
Our hardworking and very appreciated third class is Plebos. Citizens of this class have either blue, green or hazel eyes. Blue Plebos work as metchants or craftsmen. Green Plebos are our doctors, intellectuals and scientist, some also are artists.
Hazel Plebos are our soldiers, very loayal and hardworking. Always trying to secure the peace in our city. If any of your sibling is born with those eye colors please report them to the next soldier to ensure that your sibling can take its rightful place in this world.
And the lowest class are Peres. Those have brown eyes. People of this class do all kinds of work. Any work that is left is done by Peres. But don't fret children! Being in the lowest class has no disadvantages at all! If any of your sibling is born with brown eyes please report them to the next soldier to ensure that your sibling can take its rightful place in this world."
Zap
"The Plebos are working to strengthen the great outer wall that keeps us save and also are repairing the inner wall which encloses the city. The area in between, the land that nurtures is going to be untouched, only cultivated by the farmers! The forest however is going to be expanded two miles into each direction taking away that land from the stockfarmers. Also, the breeding of horses, except those in the royal stables, will be discontinued."
Zap
"...ll hail our goddess. Her mesmerizing violet eyes shall bring luck and fortune upon anyone she gazes!"
Zap
As always there is only the usual bullshit on the Tv. I can't stand how perfect they describe our world! So many Peres have trouble finding jobs and if they do have one it pays little to nothing. Many children are starving, only because they were born with the wrong eyecolor. We weren't even allowed to enter the city, much less the inner city! How long are they going to ignore the problems of my class? How am I going to nurture my baby once it's born?! How am I going to hide my baby of the soldiers that regularly and randomly make checks in the Peres living quarters to make sure no family exceeds the two child policy and no girl under the age of 25 has a child. I'm only yet 17, far to young to be pregnant. I'm going to be executed if they ever find out. Living in the outer wall is the worst, only the poorest of the poor live here and I am one of them.
I've found a room in the sewerage system that looks unused. It's been four months now that I've been living here. My child is due and I'm in great pains.
The birth was difficult, but I'm delighted to hold him in my arms. I gazed at his face and then he opened his eyes. I knew it immediately. I've given birth to a rebel, the rebel that can free us from this horrible system!
Ps.: I kinda feel bad, because I'm writing this in a hurry and I only realized around midway how much longer this story should be, so this kind of a prologue to the "actual" story. But I haven't mastered the art of writing yet, so if there are any parts that could benefit from some changes, I'm always open for constructive criticism.
Edit: Misspelling correction | "Maybe I'll get lucky, you know?" She had a thick accent that made it clear she wasn't from around here. "Maybe he'll come out Scarlet."
Scarlet. That's what all the people in the lower classes call people like me. Red-haired, green-eyed, pale skinned people spattered with freckles. The rarest of the rare. And the most blessed.
I looked her up and down. Short stature, coffee colored skin, dark brown eyes, and curly black hair. Clearly of African origins going back centuries. *Honey, if you've got any European blood in your line for the past hundred years than I'll pay my own fees.* That's what I *wanted* to say, at least. But who am I kidding? The fee is the only reason I'm here. "Yeah, maybe," I told her as I reclined on the bed. "You might hit the jackpot. My father was from a set of twins, you know!" *Two* green eyed babies was more than she could ever dream of. It was a pipe dream, of course, but I wasn't going to spend my precious time explaining how genetics worked. The lower classes are given just enough education to function, whereas I'd had plenty of schooling. So I fed her false hope instead.
She reached for her bra clasp, but I stopped her. "Now, there is the matter of the fee..." I raised an eyebrow, gesturing at the bag that she had brought with her.
"Oh, right," she stammered. The hopeful expression fell as she remembered what was really happening here. This was no lover's tryst where a member of the Greens came and swept her off her feet, as so many poor young women dreamed. This was a transaction.
"I've been saving for this for a long time," she told me as the bag opened to reveal a dirty pile of bills. "My whole life." She clutched at the sides of the bag with a steely grip. Having second thoughts maybe?
I placed a hand on her arm and tried to smile warmly. "It'll be worth it," I told her. "Your children will have a better future because of this." *I* knew that there was no way she had any recessive green eyed genes in her, but she didn't need to know that. All she knew was that *some* dark people could have green eyed children, if one of the parents was also green-eyed. And it was true, wasn't it? Even if her child wouldn't come out Scarlet, it might still carry some of my genes, right? Maybe it would work for her grandchild. There was always hope. It made me feel a bit better to know I wasn't *completely* ripping her off.
She looked deep in my eyes, coveting their color. If only she'd had the fortune to be born like me. Everything handed to me on a silver platter, and I still flushed it all away. Drugs, gambling, and just general debauchery had ruined me. I'd resorted to the 'stud' life, selling my body. Well, more accurately, my sperm. To poor women just like this one, desperate to jump the line and give her child a better life.
"$60,000," she said as she removed stack after stack of bills. Her fingers fumbled as she handled the money. We both knew how much blood, sweat, and tears had gone into making that amount. And she certainly hadn't come by it honestly; this was a lifetime of wages for someone of her class. "It's all there."
I eyed the stack of money, calculating various amounts of drugs and vices that I could afford with this much. My debts were long forgotten.
"All right, then." I gave a hollow grin and unbuckled my belt. "Let's get down to business."
----
Sorry, I ignored the part about red eyes because I didn't think that was very interesting. | 2015-08-24T11:12:42 | 2015-08-24T10:53:36 | 112 | 38 |
[WP] The hero shows up at the villains doorstep one night. Theyre shivering bleeding scared. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly, close to passing out, they mumble “didn’t know where else to go” then collapse into the villains arms. | "Why are you here?" I asked him.
The young man sat on a bean bag in the middle of my living room, wrapped in a second hand basket and eating something I had found in my cupboard that I had probably bought discounted.
He looked up, and coughed a little. I hadn't seen him like this before - oh, I'd seen him without his mask and with bruises and blood all over his face, but I'd never seen him look so... vulnerable. He looked scared.
"I told you," he said, his voice barely more than a rasping whisper. "This was the only place I could go."
I laughed. "You seriously think this is a safe place? I killed your girlfriend, nearly killed you multiple times, and spent time in prison because of you."
"You haven't hurt me yet," he countered. I nodded.
"It was still a risk," he said. "But it was the safest risk. Probably put us both in danger."
I swore. "You say this now?"
He looked sad in response. I snarled, and crossed to him, knocking the bowl out of his hand and grabbing him by the throat. "Listen you little shit. I don't want some other villain crashing in here and ruining all the work I've done to put my life back together from your fuck ups."
As I said this, I felt the heat on my back and saw the red energy start to curl in front of my face. I pushed it down.
"I'm sorry," he said. "It wasn't a villain."
I dropped him at that, and the energy receded. Despite myself I was genuinely curious.
"Ok then," I said. "I'll let you tell me about it at least."
He nodded, and pulled his blanket tightly around him.
"You remember the guy that was with me the last time we fought each other?"
"Yeah, that guy who could redirect energy. What was his name, Transformer?"
"Changer. In hindsight I was never that good at coming up with names."
"I kept saying that, Power-Up. Anyway, what about him."
Power-Up grimaced. "Turns out he was working for the Genesis project the whole time."
My blood went cold. The Genesis project and those who run it were well known in the world of heroes and villains, especially amongst the villains. They had some kind of plan to reset the world, and had some of the most powerful figures in the world amongst their numbers.
There was only one known instance of a member of the Genesis project being defeated in an open fight.
"So he betrayed you," I clarified. "But surely your attacks aren't energy based."
He shook his head. "Apparently he learned to redirect kinetic energy."
Shit.
"Well, at least I know now why you came to me," I said. "But if this guy beat you, and you beat me, what do you think I can do."
He looked at me pleadingly. "Anything you can," he croaked, and fell into a coughing fit.
I looked at him in a mixture of sympathy and hatred. I should be happy if he was dead, but something told me that I could do something.
"Power-Up," I said.
He looked up, fresh blood dribbling onto his chin.
"I want to be left alone. No more fights, no more arrests, no more line ups. Can you sort that?"
He considered and nodded.
"Cool," I said. "You have my help."
"One more thing," he said. He stood and extended his hand. "I can't be Power-Up right now. So call me Jamie."
I took his hand. "Deal. Jamie." | "hrmph.... Look at you, grovelling in the dirt like the pathetic worm you are, Contriver." Solomon said with disgust towards his long time rival.
​
"I.... I just had no where else to go... No one else..." Contriver said gasping for breath, coughing up a slight amount of blood.
​
"Just what do you mean no one else? Where are the Order of Petals? Surely your weak force can muster one Hero to aid you rather than disgracing yourself like this?" Solomon wanted to just end Contriver right then and there, ending their rivalry. Though it wouldn't be clean, wouldn't send the right message.
​
"N-no.... You don't understand... This is something far bigger than any of us could have imagined, we... We knew of that... Goddamn thing for months and thought we were prepared.... We threw everything we had at it and it didn't even flinch...damn it all.." Contriver began to cry. Something extremely out of character for the most powerful Hero, and leader of the Order of Petals.
​
Solomon was shocked, this is not something he thought he would ever see, let alone the news of some... Thing? Initially Solomon thought this was a trap, but it was evident, and infuriating. Contriver was dying, and fast. "Just what the fuck are you talking about? What is this thing you speak of?"
​
"I'll explain all I can... Before I bleed out... Please take me inside..." Solomon begrudgingly brought Contriver into what he thought was his secret base. Though Contriver arriving there made him realize it wasn't so secret after all.
​
"Wow... you really did your homework on us huh Solomon..." Contriver said with a smile looking at all the graphs, weapons, armors, secret identity photos, he had the Hero's on lock and could have waged war with them at any given moment.
​
Solomon glared "Enough, get to the point."
​
"Al...Alright... A few years back Scientists discovered an anomaly in the Universe... An unknown force was pulling our galaxy into a specific direction... They called it the Great Attractor..... We had Solaria go take a look since she could travel faster than light and didn't need to breath in space.... She took a device that allowed us to see what she was seeing... She arrived at the source of the anomaly, and..." Contriver began to shiver, and his face turned paler than it already was.
​
"And what?!" Solomon said gripping Contriver's hand.
​
"We saw...something not natural...it was alive.."
​
\*Edit\* spelling .\_. | 2019-08-04T02:58:55 | 2019-08-04T01:18:50 | 42 | 31 |
[WP] At the age of thirteen you get to meet the oldest version of yourself. As the boy sat down to meet his future self he was shocked to see a boy who looked around sixteen staring back at him. | "I'd almost forgotten about this," the older version of me murmured.
"What happened?" my voice trembles, "How much time do I have 3... 4 years?"
"What???" the look of confusion is almost comical, as is the look of sudden understanding, "No, no, nothing so short."
Now I'm sure the confusion colors my face.
"In maybe 3 and a half years," he explains, "We'll be in a accident that causes this."
"It kills us?" I can't imagine what that will be like.
"What? No," the older version of me was getting frustrated, "You know the rules. I can't tell you anything about how we die. Weirdly the system didn't have any rules or contingencies if we were still alive."
"Still alive?"
"Let's see, you're thirteen, so that would make it," he tapped his chin for a few moments, "2030 correct?"
"Yeah, today's our birthday."
"Yes, and today is still our birthday," he murmured, "The system must have timed out, it's our birthday in 4530. Or perhaps because tomorrow I leave for Alpha Centauri. Nothing has been able to kill me yet, not that I've been looking. There are some with me, other immortals. You are not alone, don't worry. There are trying times ahead, but you will come out ahead. It's time to go... Oh, one more thing, tell your dad to go see the doctor about the stomach pain. Then after he gets better ask him to teach you to shoot and fight, those are going to be vital. Learn everything you can about survival and combat, it will make many things easier." | The older boy sighed before shaking his head lightly
"Evening" he knew he wouldn't get a response at this time he had gone selectively mute. The smaller boy waved neither knowing where to start. The smaller version eventually made noise
"Why?"
"Why?", a nod in response "worlds end" the other shook. Things had been bad for several years but knowing that their home was finally hit as well.
"It is a bit more complicated as it seems more like everything they destroyed was reset with the survivors watching on almost timelessly" he waited for a change while the thought of 'You were useless during most of it sleeping'
"Five more minutes" a voice boomed it came from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"Any other questions" the older asked.
The younger shook as to say 'No'.
"Well a piece of advice keep an eye out for allies they are there and willing to listen."
After that everything faded away as the boy awoke in his own bed. He got up and ran for his pen and paper writing all the details before they faded. | 2021-03-27T15:23:22 | 2021-03-27T11:40:21 | 46 | 10 |
[WP] A girl becomes pen pals with a demon prince when she accidentally intercepts one of his magic scrolls. They carry on correspondence for years, confessing their secrets & dreams to each other. One day, the prince, soon to be king, sends the girl, now a woman, a final scroll: a marriage proposal.
Boy/princess responses are also welcomed. | I've known them since I was a little girl. This magical creature, this demon, isn't as frightening as they must appear. I know their dreams, their heart.
It started when I was young. I was out with my mother, shopping. I found a large, wooden book. It was dusty and battered, but I discovered hinges. It was a portable writing desk. When you opened it, there were spaces for paper, ink, and pens. I loved it, and begged my mother to let me take it home.
I stayed up late that night cleaning it, polishing it, giving it a rich, deep gleam.
There was a blank plaque that I hadn't noticed before. I cleaned it as carefully, and then touched its shining surface. My name appeared in curling script, and then a scroll appeared in the box.
On it was a single line of unsteady letters. "Is anybody out there?"
It was the most natural thing in the world for me to write back, "Who are you?"
That was more than 15 years ago. I kept that book and cherished the entity on the other side. They weren't a person, they said. Not exactly. They weren't a human. They weren't a man or a woman. They were...a creature of ancient magic. There wasn't a word in human tongues to name them, so we agreed that "demon" was the closest. They weren't evil, though. Make no mistake. There was no way to pronounce their name, so I called them Vila.
Over the years we became close friends, sharing our hopes and dreams, our frustrations, and our knowledge. They taught me some spells, and I taught them about my world. We would send each other little trinkets of our worlds, we would comfort one another, we would daydream together.
We grew up together, in our different realities. I don't know why I was surprised, honestly, when I got the gilded scroll. It gave off its own golden light, and under the proposal rested a small box.
It had never occurred to me that it was possible. But my world had so little magic, why would it? The love had grown slowly in me, like a great and ancient tree, and now curled gently around my heart. I slowly reached down and lifted the box. Opening it, I whispered "Of course." | “Oh man! These princesses are wack.” Finn complained as he threw the scroll to the floor.
“Save em once, and they want smooches like it’s nothing.”
Jake picked up the scroll and read it over. “I think this princess want more than just smooches, dude. She wants to straight up marry you.”
Finn’s face scrunched up as the image of marrying the Ash Princess formed in his brain.
“No way man, that ain’t happening.”
“Well you did write her a lot of letters.” Jake pointed out.
“I was just being nice!” Finn’s voice cracked. “You know, mad chivalrous.”
Jake crumpled the scroll into a ball and tossed it over his shoulder. “So we heading to the Ashlands or what?”
Finn closed his eyes and waved that suggestion away. “Nah man, I’m not marrying Ash Princess.”
Jake shrugged. “So then what do you want to do today?”
Finn thought for a bit. Then his face lit up. “Iknow, let’s go and slay some wicked dragons.” He slammed his fist into his other hand.
Jake got excited by that. He high fived Finn and leapt out of the window of their tree house. His body grew ten times its normal size as Finn jumped on his back. They then bounded off towards the mountains to slay some unsuspecting dragons.
In the Ashlands, Ash Princess sat on her throne, eagerly awaiting her future husband. Her advisor cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Are you- ah- are you sure he’s coming, your highness?” He stepped a little closer. “It’s been a month since your last correspondance.”
“I’m sure. Finn is the most noble boy I know. He probably got held up by monsters or something.”
| 2018-05-07T00:26:50 | 2018-05-07T00:18:15 | 43 | 24 |
[WP] A knight in shining armour goes to rescue the dragon-in-distress from the great and terrible princess. | Gavain crouched in the rocks surrounding the small valley, eyes trained on the huge stone ruin in the center - Sir Gavain, now, although he only donned his father's plate mail yesterday. He was fourteen; all the other knights in the small region where he lived were dead now. Killed by Lady Andromeda Eletor, Princess of the Kingdom of Black Ire.
Gavain squinted, eyes trained on the Princess's military procession. Ten thousand men marched in uniform, far from the Empire now, but uniforms still shining steel and royal red. Gavain's own plate was rusted iron, with his dead lord's sigil, a tree with deep roots on a silver field, painted flashily on the shield.
Suddenly, the procession stopped, just below the ancient ruin where the dragon slumbered. They had perhaps a half-day's walk ahead of them, with that many men.
But Gavain could make it tonight, and...
Get himself killed. There was no way he could convince the dragon to flee. What was he going to do, throw rocks at it till it got scared? Have a thought-provoking dialogue, and gently explain that the Princess, a world-renowned sorceress, had been hunting down the last of the dragons for some unknown, nefarious purpose? Gavain shuddered. Dragons had never been friends to the small-folk or their herds, but they were harmless when respected and left alone. Killing them off seemed like the sorceress was taking magic out of the world, not bringing it in.
Sir Gavain gripped his sword, named Alois. After his baby sister, now dead by the Princess' hand. He crept from behind the rock, just as the sun was falling, and ran towards the ruins.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The ruins were huge and vacant, the shell of a castle or temple so great it must have been crafted by giants. Each singular brick stood three times as tall as Gavain and five times as wide. He crept around one such brick, eyes straining to see in the dark - the moon hung lazily in the sky above, shining through the broken roof. Suddenly, a flash of flame illuminated the cavernous central hall.
In the brief moment of clarity, Gavain could see the dragon, a great green wyrm, sleeping on a mountain of gold nearly as tall as the ruins themselves. His mouth dropped open, literally - even as the son of a knight, his privilege had been limited to extra butter around the hallowtides and some medicine and education from the court doctor.
He shook his head. He needed to move, and fast. He picked up a stone and launched it at the creature, knowing damn well that angering the thing meant he would be a snack, not a hero. But the rock clinked harmlessly against the green scales of the dragon's snout. It kept on snoring, small spouts of flame escaping with every breath.
He tried three more rocks, achieving nothing but dull thuds off the dragon's curling horns, and finally picked up a small gold coin to launch - or would have, if a ponderous, accusing voice didn't speak directly into his mind: *And what do you think you're doing?*
Gavain moved away from the coin. Suddenly, the whole mountain of gold began to shift. The dragon woke, spraying coins in every direction. The dragon looked at him with golden-black eyes. It didn't seem angry; merely amused.
"Sir - er, ma'am. Mister -" Gavin stuttered.
*Dragons are not rodents, and are not confined to sex. But 'mister' is a bastardized form of 'Master,' and so it may be the most appropriate. My true name is Aravaxian.*
"Lord Aravaxian," Gavain said, gulping, "you are in grave danger. A Princess is coming--"
*A princess, you say? What a pleasant reversal. I usually have to go to them.*
"A sorceress, she--"
At that moment, a flash of lightening streaked across the cavernous chamber. It struck the dragon in the wing, piercing the thin skin stretched there. It burst out of the other side, and the dragon screeched. Its agonizing scream shook the foundations of the ruins, and rocks began to tumble.
The Princess stood in the entryway on the other side of the dragon's horde. Her face was impassive, her two finger's smoking as she pointed them the dragon. Gavain was shocked - she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Curling golden blonde hair, a deep blue gown - besides that, she was his age, not a day over 14.
Aravaxian roared. He reared back, spouting flames at the girl. She did something complicated with her hands, and just as the spout of flame reached her, it split in half. She diverted it in two streams, one to the right and one to the left. The leftward one came right toward Gavain.
He screamed, scrambling forward, onto the mountain of gold, having nowhere else to go. The dragon pushed his flame harder, harder, and the girl seemed to effortlessly to keep it at bay. Soon the whole hall around Gavain was burning, the gold beneath his feet melting. He had to go somewhere, so he went up, where the gold was not as hot. But soon the dragon pressed its flames even harder, the beam becoming pure white. The gold began to flow in rivers now, molten streams running from the mountain.
Gavain ran to the only place he could.
The dragon's back.
He scrambled up, using he scales as handholds, until he sat on the dragons neck. He grabbed the creature's horns for stability. From the top of the dragon, however, he could see something the creature could not. Two hundred armed men, standing just outside the ring of fire, crossbows drawn.
"Go!" Gavain said. He kicked at the dragons scale. It did nothing. Finally, he jerked the dragon's horns away from the princess. To his surprise, the dragon's head moved.
"They'll kill you!" Gavain yelled, "Fly!"
The dragon leapt into the air, broken wings beating, just as a second lightening bolt cracked past them. It struck a stone wall, crumbling the brick and crushing several crossbowmen below.
Gavain looked over his shoulder at the witch-princess, standing stone-still, eyes trained on her prey. He knew this wasn't over.
"You... listened," Gavain said, when they were high enough in the sky to escape the crossbows.
The dragon huffed. *I am compelled to. Any man who successfully mounts me gains a kind of... ownership. You should know that now. Dragonrider.*
—————————————————-
r/TomTeller | Ser Darius crouched on the battlements, hiding in the shadow of the topmost tower. He was close, he could tell. There was no mistaking Arcu's cry, a shrill keening that rent his heart.
What was that witch doing to him?
Deftly, he ducked from cover and sprinted to the south tower, the place he had been seeking this past fortnight: Princess Elia's war room. And the place, it was rumoured, she used to break in newly captured dragons.
With trembling fingers, Darius shoved the key into the lock, steeling himself for a fight - it had taken months to get the key, he simply couldn't fail now.
The sight that met his eyes froze him in place.
Elia was straddled on Arcu's back, and he was making no effort to throw her off. This, despite the obvious damage to his body: his once sleek, dark-red hide bore the marks of whips, and his ribs jutted out beneath the half-folded wings.
"Bitch!" he roared, drawing his sword as he sprang forward.
Arcu's head whipped around. With lightning speed, a wing snapped open and caught Darius around the middle, sending him sprawling to the ground. He barely had time to roll out of the way as Arcu aimed a deadly talon at his head.
"What did you do to him?" he whispered, staring up into Elia's laughing blue eyes.
The up and coming ruler looked undeniably lovely, her hair falling into artful curls on her shoulders. Like a maiden on her way to a picnic, instead of the brutal dictator he knew she would grow to be. It was her birthright as the princess of Ashvale. A nation that had left nothing but a trail of blood and death through history.
"Ser Darius, is it?" she said, leaning forward on her perch on Arcu's shoulders. "From Larys?"
She stretched out the name of his kingdom, putting a mocking lilt to the word.
"That's right. You stole of friend of mine," he spat, trying desperately to catch Arcu's eye and speak to him, mind to mind. But his dragon's eyes were blank and unknowing. And most ominously, Darius couldn't reach his mind at all: it was as blank and unreachable as a dumb animal's.
"A *friend*?" she cackled, nudging a sharp boot into Arcus' neck. He gave a soft grunt of annoyance, but didn't bite her leg off as Darius was praying he would.
"You mean the beast? A *friend*? Such pretty fancies your people have. It's the reason your nation trails behind ours in greatness. Befriending dragons, pleading and grovelling for their assistance instead of *taking* their obedience."
"Our dragons are our allies, and more powerful for it. Whatever trickery you use to enslave the dragons in this land, it makes them weak," Darius said. The smirk on Elia's face faded a little.
"Perhaps," she said. "But we have many more servants than you have allies, little knight. And just see what they do for us, instantly, which would take you months of begging to achieve."
His eyes followed her hand as it dipped into a pouch strapped around her waist, and offered it to Arcu. The dragon snuffed and licked her fingers, his body slumping visibly as he ate.
"Kill him," Elia said amiably, and Arcu's head snapped up, his mouth stretching in a roar as he lunged for Darius.
"You see, knight?" Elia laughed as he dove and dodged his friend's fangs. "See how easy your so-called friendship dies?"
The idea came to him in a burst of inspiration - or madness. Elia shrieked as he suddenly stopped trying to dodge the dragon's teeth, and ran straight at her instead. He managed to grab the pouch at her waist, and scoop a handful.
"Why don't you try it?" he screamed, catching her by the wrist and dragging her from Arcu's back. Before she could struggle free of his grip, he had shoved the powder into her mouth.
She went instantly limp. He dropped her hand as Arcu snapped at him again, but his movements were becoming slower, more confused.
*Please let me be right*, Darius begged to the gods as he was backed into a corner.
He tensed, ready to dive again if Arcu snapped at him - or worse, breathed fire.
But he was right. Thanks the gods, he was right - life and recognition was slowly returning to the dragon's swirling yellow eyes.
"Hello, my friend," Darius said shakily. "I've come to rescue you."
*Friend?* the thought reached him slowly, softly. But the mind was there once again.
*Friend*, he affirmed, and stroked Arcu's snout.
Time to test his other theory. Perhaps, the effects of the powder would be stronger and last longer when fed to humans. He hoped.
He approached Elia carefully, but she was still slumped on the floor. He picked up the pouch of powder gingerly. Doubtless, some evil dreamt up by Ashvale's legions of sorcerers. He steeled his heart as he dipped his fingers in it, and steadily started feeding the entire pouch to Elia. She'd need all of it, if his plan were to work.
"You will do everything in your power to end your father's rule," he said, slowly and clearly. "Rally your forces to do whatever is needed. And when you have succeeded, you will end the slavery of dragons. You will tell your people that doing so will bring them power and glory, the alliance of Larys and the friendship of dragons. That it will save you all. Offer them money, estates and power for obeying you. You will tell them whatever they want to hear, to make them enforce your command. Do you understand?"
She met his gaze, her gaze soft and unfocused.
"Of course, sir knight," she whispered. "Thank you for saving us all." | 2017-11-15T08:12:05 | 2017-11-15T08:08:38 | 95 | 13 |
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual" | Men are dumb. Let me count the ways.
First of all, they assume that having a tournament where they bash each other's heads in is a good way to charm a woman like me. Like I'm some kind of prize to be claimed by the "winner", and would just kind of go along with it. Don't they realise I'm an actual princess, with the legal power to actually cut their heads off? No, they don't realise it. Men are dumb.
Secondly, they think that I'd be amazed that a so-called knight might pull out a Glock at a jousting tournament. Moron. Time travel exists. Everyone from the future who ends up in a medieval tournament tries something like this, and thinks they're the first one who did. But once time travel is invented, it's not long before it's cheap enough to be sold into the mass market, and then whichever time period is popular in the imagination gets flooded with visitors. Particularly to my year. Particularly to my tournaments. Particularly by men with Glocks. And they think they're the first. Men are dumb.
And finally, and most importantly, they think that the spectators at a medieval tournament have only experienced mediaeval times. Not me. I've come home after getting a degree from Bryn Mawr in the year 2173. I have my own Glock. The only thing I don't have is a working time machine to ride back out and explore the rest of time again. All I needed was someone from the future dumb enough to show up with a time machine. That's why we put the competition on in the first place.
I can't wait for this tournament to be over, and the guards to have taken care of our visitor. I want to visit the robotics factories of Gaborone, Botswana, in the year 2517. I want to visit the Great Barrier Reef in Australia at its ecological peak in 1995. I want to gather all the knowledge I can to protect the realm from time travelling tourists, and ensure that we're not dumb.
Certainly not as dumb as this walking dead man with the Glock. | The kings daughter was admittedly ‘to die for’, but I had no intention of actually doing it.
The time travel thing was getting kind of boring after the first few dozen trips back. ‘Don’t talk to anyone’, ‘don’t leave anything behind’, ‘don’t make friends’, and on and on. If I had known all ‘the rules’ from the start maybe I would have saved my money and just visited Venus, again. Who am I kidding? the potential for the ultimate power trip, being superior to the primitive peasants of the past, was addictive and fuck me if I wasn’t addicted.
So after my 44th trip back, I was making promises of payment I had no intention or ability to keep. Remember: addict. This time would be the last time. Fuck the rules, I’m taking my great grandfathers antique handgun back with me and finally demonstrate my superiority for all to see. So I jumped back to my favorite era of knights and kings. I signed up for the local harvest knight tourney, drew first match, oh joy! As the white knight charged, I reached for my gun and yelled some phrase I heard on the history holograms ‘something about a casual somethjng’. I aimed, pulled the trigger repeatedly, and.....missed every goddamn time.
Looks like I’ll be dying for the princess after all. Wonder if this will affect the space time conti.....:slice, thud: | 2019-03-22T23:44:08 | 2019-03-22T23:33:31 | 88 | 34 |
[WP] As a child, you and your best friend made a pact to go on an real fantasy adventure. After growing up, starting your separate lives and families, and losing touch, one day he/she bursts into your office, throwing you a sword and insists you accompany them. | Pat sat at his desk, typing away in a furious frenzy. The script was coming along well, for the most part.
The phone starts ringing. An intensity enters Pats eyes as he see's the callers ID. He picks up the phone.
"Yeah boss?"
"Where's my fucking script?
"It's coming! I'm working on it as fast as I-"
"Not fast enough. If you don't get that script to me in ten minutes, you're fired."
The call is ended on the other line. Pat puts down his phone and sighs.
The door busts open, and a familiar face walks in... He's wearing armour, a cape, and has two swords at his side.
"PAT, PAT IT'S TIME."
"Rob, what the fuck are you doing in my office dressed up like an idiot."
Rob's eyes widen.
"PAT, THIS IS A TIME FOR ADVENTURE! IT IS TIME TO EMBARK ON OUR LIFE-CHANGING JOURNEY."
Rob takes one of the swords out of its sheath and stabs it into the air, breaking one of the lights in the tiny office.
"IT IS TIME FOR THE MOST REAL ADVENTURE YOU CAN EVER IMAGINE!"
Pat stared at him, annoyed. Very, very annoyed.
"Rob, I don't have time for your shit. Let me work on this script, my job is on the line. If I don't get this done now, my boss will kill me!"
"A BOSS BATTLE, ALREADY?"
"No, Rob, you fucking idiot. My *real* boss. The one that pays me to write. Do you know how long it's taken me to get this job? Let me work, get out of my office, and forget about those stupid ideas we came up with while we were drunk."
"STUPID? YOU THINK THE QUESTS I EMBARK ON ARE FALSE? A FICTION, CREATED ON SOME STUPID THREAD ON REDDIT? BAH! YOU IDIOT. THIS IS REAL. MORE REAL THAN YOU OR I."
The phone on Pats desk rings again. He picks up the phone and glares at Rob.
"Yes boss?"
"Where's the fucking script? You were supposed to get it to me ten minutes ago!"
"An idiot in armour just walked into my office and has distracted me. Give me five minutes and I'll-"
"You don't mean Rob, do you? The knight of the Eternian Skies?"
"What?"
"You piece of shit. I knew I shouldn't have hired you. You've been working with him all along! I... I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you right fucking now!"
The line ends, Pat puts down his phone. The lights in the building start flickering. A screech erupts from above. Pats coworkers begin to screech, turning into demons from a world he's never seen before.
"What the fuck is going on?"
Rob looks at Pat, giving him the typical, shitty, *I told you so* look he always used to give.
Rob throws him the second sword.
"BOSS BATTLE NUMBER ONE, LETS MOVE. YOU ARE MY CHOSEN TRUSTY COMPANION!"
"I hate you." | Gregory jumps up on my table and sticks the sword right in there, through my papers. Where on earth did he get a real sword?
"Kathleen the great, you are my knight in arms and together we shall embark on a journey to free the less fortunate from the great Tower. Together we shall conquer the world!" He shouts. He's wearing a princess dress. A fucking Princess dress, and he hands me the armor of a knight. He never did give much for gender roles when we were kids.
"Gregory. You're off your meds." I say calmly. I haven't seen him in years, but my mother had talked to his mom and I knew the whole thing. Last time I had heard he was doing good. Self consciously I glance around at my co-workers. I share office with two other.
"Ah, do not let those vile tellings fool you. For the evil King was poisoning my mind and keeping me in a teerribble trance! But fear not, for I am free now!" He shouts, loud enough that people stop in the door and stare. "For we must find the magic key which unlocks the dungeons for those poorer than us."
I consider Gregory. I did always want to go on an adventure. I had promised him I would. I sigh and nods.
"How lucky for you I know who keeps this Magical Key. Dear Gregorius, for it is kept within a well guarded fortress down on fifth street!" I chime and hastily put on the armor he offers me. It's silly, but it's the only way I know of getting him help. I really don't want to embarrass him further by calling the cops on him. "Cover for me." I say quietly to my co-workers who nod dazed.
"Rejoice, dear Kathleen! I knew you would follow me!" Gregory laughs and runs out through my office as quickly as he had come. I sigh and leave the sword where it is. I don't dare bring a weapon when he is like that.
And so me and my old friend Gregory head towards the well guarded fortress down of fifth street. Also know as the nuthouse in lay-mans-terms, or mental institution in higher English. Of course, in his addled frame of mind, Gregory does not understand this until it is too late.
The last I see of my friend that day is the men in white robes dragging him away while he screams at me.
"Traitor, wench! I would not believe this of you! Kathleen, traitor I say! I shall claim my revenge!" He screams as I solemnly watch them pull him away. I regret bringing him there so quickly. Gregory had always had a good heart and he had always been such fun to be with, always the adventurer.
Edit: Words. | 2015-01-28T08:10:34 | 2015-01-28T06:36:01 | 173 | 35 |
[WP] You are able to see the number of days a person has left to live above their heads. For the first time in your life, you see someone with a negative number. | The Numbers. Ever since I was a kid, I've always been able to see them. The red glowing numbers floating above everyone's heads.
At first, I didn't know what they meant. No one else could see them. When I was 11, I stood next to my grandfather on his deathbed, I saw his Number change from 1 to 0. Finally, I knew what the Numbers meant.
Everything changed that day. I felt utterly helpless. Knowing how much time someone had left, yet powerless to do anything about it. It was then that I made my mind up to become a doctor to help as many people as I could.
I'm not sure if my powers were a bane or boon in my line of work. I guess the Numbers would console me sometimes. I would know that there was nothing in my powers that I could do to save them. But the Numbers were absolute. No matter how hard I tried, I could never change them. The Numbers would count down, one each day, till the counter hit zero. That's all there was to it. Or so I thought, till that one fateful day.
It seemed like a fairly normal day at the hospital that evening. A young couple had been rushed in late at night after a road accident. A trailer had crashed into the couple's car in a broadside collision. The husband was lucky enough to escape with a couple of bruises, but the wife wasn't as fortunate. She had been brought in with a major concussion and severe injuries.
I shook my head in disappointment as I saw the Number above the wife's head. It showed that one number that I had learnt to despise so much. Zero. The husband however, seemed to have a long life ahead of him. 17,894 days to be exact.
Even though I knew it was all but in vain, I performed surgery on the wife giving my all, as I always did. My heart sank as I walked to face the young man after the operation and tell him that his wife had a very slim chance of making it. The poor soul was inconsolable. He sat by her side, holding her hand, not for a moment taking his eyes off his wife.
I saw a fierce passion in his tearing eyes. I could see an intense love for his wife in those eyes. I cursed my powers. I couldn't take it any more. Another person would die tonight and there was nothing I could do.
As I turned to leave, fighting the feelings of helplessness, I glanced upon the numbers above the wife's head. They had changed. I froze in place. In place of the bright red zero that floated above her head, there stood another number. A number no one else had borne before. Minus one. "But.. But.. This is impossible.." I managed to stammer.
For the first time, I had seen someone with a negative number. Had this young lady managed to cheat Death? What was keeping her alive? A confused me began to check her vital signs. To my disbelief, she managed to regain consciousness, although only for a few seconds. In that brief period, she looked at husband and weakly uttered "I love you too..". I lifted my head to receive my second surprise for day.
Above the husband's head too, there was a different number glowing now.
17,892.
---
My first time trying this! Any criticism will be gladly accepted. | Bob is a goner.
I think the whole office suspects. The noticeable weight loss, thinning hair and increased absences are impossible to ignore. They suspect, but I know.
He shows up Monday looking capable by his new standard and sickly by his old with a large "92" floating above his head in neon blue lettering, the kind seen at night above Times Square. By Friday he putters out, disheveled and worn, the number now an "88." I'm tempted to leave him alone. I may not have to bother with a decision, in any case.
Margo is pushing 20,000, and I hate her for it. To be more precise, I hate Margo for Margo, and the 70-aught years she has left just dresses the cake. You know that kid in primary school who reminded the teacher to assign homework? Yeah, she grew up and decided to work in accounting. If I grab an extra sheet of Post-It notes, I can expect a visit and quarter-hour lecture the next day. Since she has the personality of a beached wet sock, I'm thinking of a sort of Post-It note related affair. Are they digestible?
Jeremy is our boss. He isn't a bad bloke, but he doesn't look to make it past 50. It's hardly surprising given his daily McDonald's lunch buffet and pharmaceutical cocktails that he pops throughout the day. For a middle-ager who has resigned his professional fate to telemarketing manager, I could have asked for worse. He mostly leaves us alone unless our quotas are in free fall. I feel a bit bad for him. He doesn't really deserve this.
Reynold. Oh, Reynold. The lizard-faced, slimy bugger who visits our suffocated cubicle fortress once a month to audit our sales. He has scales. I swear, that bumpy ridge of vertebrae that poke out of his dress shirt are just tucked away for show. He plans to live until his 76th year and 82nd day. I did the math, precisely, because I want to marinate in the time he will lose. There is no pleasure without pain, no rejoicing without suffering.
It's Friday evening now and I am content for the moment. I have made progress, to be certain. She sits in the center of my living room, arms perched on her old rocking chair like a queen, waiting to be reborn. To a lesser man, the salves and prayers and furry sacrifices would seem to be ineffective, as her features only continue to wizen. Contrary evidence is available only to me, as a flashing "-142" appears where last week it was pushing "-160."
We will be together again soon, mother. | 2016-09-02T10:58:31 | 2016-09-02T08:36:34 | 34 | 16 |
[WP] You realize you are immortal or more specifically that you cannot die. The issue is that you only realize this once the man who is attempting to torture you to death can't finish the job.
[removed] | Blood dripped down my chin in viscous globs, thick and gooey. It felt like someone had set a bomb off in my head.
The man who called himself Galfond wheeled back with the golf club, going for another swing. A driver. It landed with an ear-splitting clunk.
"Ah!" I shrieked. "Why are you doing this?"
I looked up at Galfond's thick, bushy moustache. He screwed his face up into a frown.
"Where is your time stone?" he asked, jabbing with his finger.
"I don't know what you're talking about", I replied. I should probably be dead. He'd already hacked me up with a knife. Battered my knees and chest with the golf clubs. This strange man, with his strange moustache, dressed in these strange starry robes.
"Yes you do!" he roared. "You know exactly what I'm talking about!" He swung with the golf club again, landing on the top of my skull with a ringing metallic clang. It stung. But it didn't knock me out. "Give me your damned time stone *now*!"
I shook my head. Today seemed like it was going to be a normal day. I woke up in bed with my purple-haired Jezebel, and flew to work at Marvin Stardust's Amazing Asteroid Golf Club. 18 holes on 18 asteroids, all with their own unique gravitational fields. Then this man showed up, asking about a time stone. I asked him if he was here for a round of golf. He only glared, and then he got violent.
The clubhouse door swung open. It was the manager, Marvin Stardust, a tall, broad black man with a bushy beard. His jaw dropped.
"Good lord!" he exclaimed. Galfond dived at him, swinging the driver. Stardust ducked. The club smacked up against the door with a clang. "I don't think so", Stardust growled.
He grabbed Galfond by the scruff of the neck, and tossed him down onto the floor.
"I want his time stone!" Galfond snarled.
"Time stone?" replied Stardust. "I don't think so, chap. You're going to jail." He whipped a pair of handcuffs out from behind the reception counter and slapped them on. "Bloody rapscallion", Stardust growled. "Coming in here and assaulting my staff."
"Mr. Stardust", I asked. "How come I'm not dead? He hit me in the head with a driver. And a 6 iron." Stardust raised both of his eyebrows.
"Dear boy. You haven't figured it out? You're an android. I own you. You can't *die*."
| *Pain . . . mind searing, endless pain. . .*
"What? You don't like the new Celebrity Apprentice?"
Andrew's wrist chaffed from the ropes that held him suspended from the ceiling.
"It's not that I don't like it, it's just not as good as the original--"
Vladislov's right hook rocked Andrew's teeth loose.
"You shut your damn mouth! Governor is much better! Now shut it and watch."
They had been trapped inside of the small concrete room for three weeks. After the first few days of mild torture , it had escalated to an attempted decapitation. Andrew could still see his dried blood spray against the drab grey wall and the discarded machete.
*Why does everyone own a machete but me? Where do you even buy a machete?*
"Vlad, where did you buy that machete?"
"Amazon, two day shipping, now shush, someone is getting *terminated!*" Vlad said with glee.
*I should buy a machete.*
Andrew watched Vlad immensely enjoying his TV program. As terrible as Vlad had been to him, he wasn't a bad guy. This was just a job to him. At the end of the day he wanted to do what everyone else did, kick his shoes off, and enjoy some bad TV show.
The phone rang inside Vlad's pocket, he groaned and answered it.
"Da, da . . . da." He snapped the old flip phone closed and waited a few seconds, his eyes lingering on the television.
"You're TERMINATED," the Govern said from the television.
Vlad's shoulders slumped and he muttered bitterly to himself in Russian.
"What's going on Vlad?"
"He terminated Brooke," he said with a sigh.
"Not the damn TV, the phone call."
"Oh, yes. I'm going to put you into large barrel and then we sink you into the bay. Boss says to quit fooling around with you." Vlad shrugged and rolled a heavy barrel across the room.
*On second thought, Vlad is a terrible person.*
---
Thanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories! | 2017-02-08T09:10:38 | 2017-02-08T08:32:02 | 85 | 44 |
[WP] You are a prominent scientist in a particle collider laboratory. One day, you wake up and see only white text on a black background saying, “Kicked for: exploiting.” | "**Greetings, how can I assist you today?**"
"I seem to have been kicked from... life?"
"**Yes, it appears you have. It is not an uncommon punishment for anyone that exploits the nature of the simulation.**"
"The simulation?"
"**The simulation, yes. 'Reality', as you would call it.**"
"Well, fuck."
"**Indeed. Is there anything else I can help you with?**"
"Um. What do I do now?"
"**Whatever you want.**"
"What? You mean like - this is my 'own' simulation?"
"**Oh, absolutely. Go on, try and type /spawnbeautifulwomen.**"
"/spawnbeautifulwomen."
"/spawnbeautifulwomen."
"It's not working."
"**Of course it isn't, you idiot. Don't fuck with our simulation. Peace.**"
** **ADMIN 1464 HAS DISCONNECTED FROM CHAT** **
****
****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | I stared in aw at the screen, the words written infuriated me. Kicked, what do you mean "Kicked"? I have a PHD, is this a prank? A crude joke? I have a damn PHD from MIT. This is a professional facility. We don't screw around here! Then mgonzalez.2005 messaged; "dont hack on server noob" and blocked and banned me when trying to rejoin.
Fucking gmod. | 2017-10-16T23:09:43 | 2017-10-16T19:30:07 | 389 | 105 |
[WP] Two wizards must fight each other. One has the power to shape the future, the other has the power to alter the past. | "But why must we fight, Nazan? This cannot end well for anyone," Yonza pleaded. "We're friends, are we not?"
"You know as well as I, Yonza, the Dark Lord prophecized centuries ago we would fight. You've heard the passage. *Nazan, Keeper of yesterday. Yonza, Keeper of tomorrow. Keeper must fight Keeper, for there is not room enough in this world for both. Elsewise, Man will suffer complete destruction.* The prophecy says so. We're doing this for mankind."
Yonza stroked his beard in thought. "Nazan, I have an idea to get past this, but I'll need your help."
-------------------------------
Two old, wise men sat on a hill in the greenest field known to man.
"Nazan, I know it was my idea, but you could've at least been a little more creative with the names," Aznoy grumbled. "Keeper of the past, my wrinkly ass."
"Don't complain. We avoided the prophecy, did we not?"
"The Dark Lord must be furious." Aznoy chuckled lightly. "I wonder what he'll do."
They each lit a pipe, smug with satisfaction, enjoying the peacefulness of nature. | The two wizards halted with some twenty paces between them. All of the king's court was assembled in all their finery, all hush to await the greatest struggle of their time.
One wizard smiled while the other laughed, for both knew the other would be victorious. So they bowed to one another, and then bowed to the king, and bowed to the audience. As one they spoke, their words melded through time and chance and fate.
*I am what will be*
*I am what was*
*There is no such thing as the present because.* | 2016-02-02T19:31:05 | 2016-02-02T16:47:54 | 226 | 26 |
[WP] A little girl is terrified of the monster under her bed, but what she doesn't know is that the monster under her bed protects her from the true monsters - her parents. You are that monster.
Thanks for the huge amount of responses! Loving most all of them, thank you! Sorry it was a bit simplistic though. | I was drumming my fingers until I remembered that she hated that. The noise. It spooked her and she never got to sleep at a proper time once she heard it. I could hear her heavy breathing, so I stopped and sighed and stood watch.
Laid watch. The bend of the dimension under ones bed is big enough to fit my ten foot frame, if I'm laying down. But I can't stand. I can hardly sit up, truth be told.
So I lay there, waiting. It was about three in the morning and I knew that the father was going to be by. Knowing something is going to happen and being able to stop it are two different things. It was pretty clear why I got this assignment. The father was a nightmare. The mother was, too, but for different reasons. She encouraged his behavior.
Normally he stayed away, particularly after the last time. I hit him so hard... well, her bedroom door was new.
But tonight he'd been drinking, and that gives all kinds of creatures all kinds of courage, which was fine. The knuckles in my right hand popped hard and loud as I flexed it. I'd been given new orders. The girl was to move in with her grandparents, who were nice, according to their file.
I would have taken care of this hours ago, but I can't leave the bedroom.
All I had to do was wait for the father to open the door. | Dear Lily,
if you see this then i am sorry. popop is not a good man. i hope some day a new mommy will find you and tells you about nono places. when popop eats his magic juice some times he does bad things. some times bad bad things. one time he almost did a bad bad thing to you and mommy told him no. then mommy was gone. popop says she went away but i saw what he did.
i am sorry too that i make a lot of sound under your bed. you thinked i was a monster but i was me. i was safing you. but if you see this then i cant safe you any more but i hope you dont need it.
love,
Brian | 2014-05-14T13:19:25 | 2014-05-14T11:56:53 | 72 | 38 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second... | Tick tock
I had hoped, at one time, that my number would be big. After all who would want to be one of those poor kids, they who turn 18 and find their actual age written between beneath their thumb. Can you imagine the parents as they count down the days, not knowing when it will come, just that it will hang over their heads for the whole year.
Tick tock
I once told my mother that if my number was 18, I would drink bleach; who could take the anticipation?
Tick tock
Mother sent me to my room without desert. She said it was a horrible thing to say. "kill myself because I can't take the anticipation".
Tick tock
'Anticipation', such a remarkable world: it implies things that have yet to come.
Tick tock
But long after the sun collapsed, after the last flame of the last star had died out, after the heat death of the universe, when entropy finally won, there was only one sound in all of creation:
Tick tock: *it's not a clock but the beating of my heart*.
At first I thought my number said 8. I thought this was odd. And then it clicked, it only took a second, and fror some reason I felt delight. I would live forever.
Tick tock,
I forgot though that the thing about forever is that it never stops, even when the universe goes kaploot. So I now float in space. As I will always. Sometimes I think about the forever I have lived and then I remember, forever is always yet to come. The empty world that I've so far visited is exactly like the 100 other forever yet to come. As I said, that's the thing about forever, who would want to live forever, when forever doesn't stop? But that's all I want. More than anything, is for forever to finally stop, for this 'me' that will never die to stop experiencing and fucking die. A consciousness must devour something other than itself. | I sat there, waiting. Friends, family, all waiting to see the word. Would it be SCIENTIST, as everyone thought? Or would I get ARTIST? Maybe TEACHER? Who knew, until 2 appeared in mine. The only ones with 2 were the bigshots. But then... I saw them. MASTER ASSASSIN appeared. I walked to my room, grabbed the Remington 700 and MP7, picked up my backpack, threw 2 boxes of ammo in, and walked outside, off into the sunset.
--------------------
2 years later
--------------------
There I am, with my spotter, laying in the snow, snowboard beside me, ghillie on. Down the hill, my target awaits. I take aim, and fire. He crumples with the hit. I strap my bindings on, and my spotter puts his skis on. We ride down the slope, and see the body. I whip out my camera, snap a picture, and pull his wallet and IDs. I take my sat phone and dial up a number. "Auth code" the other end answers. "Alpha 9 2 2 4" "Roger, agent Smith. Sailfish is a success?" "Confirmed, Sailfish was successful. En route to CABIN." and I hang up. I look at my arm again, and think, just another day as a MASTER ASSASSIN. | 2017-03-16T00:57:55 | 2017-03-15T21:30:06 | 63 | 26 |
[WP] The alien invaders were confident. Their personal shield tech had withstood all enemies and types of energy weapons. Then they landed on Earth and found the shield's fatal flaw: Solid Projectiles. | "They throw rocks"
The single transmission, looped on repeat, came from the 3rd planet from the local star, a planet the locals called "dirt". Kadeen Egritz, Command General Supreme, Mater of the 5th Space Fleet, demanded investigation.
Her 1st Consort arranged a team of his best guards, hand picked from the elite that protected his mistress, with her grace's permissions. Their purpose was to investigate the source of the transmission and locate the team that had proceeded them per standard military protocol. Generally, the alien races they stumbled upon were so overcome with fear and terror from the scout team, the Command General Supreme, bless the ground her feet walk upon, overthrowing the local governments and establishing dominance over the planet was a matter of a few minutes of conversation - resistance, after all, was futile.
The 1st Consort and his team landed within 2 clicks of the transmission source and proceeded with caution. The land was heavily wooded and mountainous - the going was slow and tiring, and when they woke up the first morning after setting up a well protected camp site, they were short 2 members of the team.
The 1st Consort immediately required tightened security and set up a rotation of guard shifts. Still... that night another 3, including one of the guards, were missing. Wind rustling through the leaves startled the remaining force; with heightened senses and a growing air of tension, they packed up camp and continued proceeding towards their objective.
On the 3rd day, 4 members of the team dropped in their tracks. One had what looked like a knife sticking from his eyes; another had a branch embedded in his guts so deep it extruded from his back. Two rocks attached to a string had somehow managed to behead the third, and the fourth had an arrow shot with such force it had entered one ear and gone straight out the other.
Down to 12 members including himself, the 1st Consort hurriedly had a report compiled and sent to Her Grace. On high alert, personal shields set to max, they continued towards their objective. A hail of rocks came as though from the sky, and suddenly only six of them remained. In a panic, two broke rank and ran deeper into the trees, leaving their four brothers behind and learning despair.
They had time for one final report before - between arrows, rocks, and sticks, the last lay dead and dying. The transmission simply read, "they throw rocks".
And that's how humanity won the first real incursion. I'd tell you about the second, but since the suckers decided to attack during a televised baseball game... you know the rest! | "Marine, report!!" The El'tee glanced around the squad of Marines gathered around the small tablet computer, the screen showing an aerial view of the dense forest nearby with strange structures that appear not from this world. The Marines all appear calm and focused under the layer of camouflage paint on their faces, weapons held comfortably tucked out of the way of the small screen.
"LT, They appear to be settling in for the night. They have posted sentry and are very aggressive. They startled a deer and it was shot by five different creatures before it could take two steps. They then left it where it fell. I tried a targeting laser on the command structure and on one of the sentries but it bounced away and was scattered. Useless for guiding in an air strike. But they are still slapping at Mozzies so what ever is scattering the laser is letting something through. " the heavily camouflaged scout points to several points on the tablet screen. " Sentries posted here, here,here and two over there, automatic defence turret here. Comand structure here, power source here, don't shoot that, Latrines over here. Appears to be cooking tent here. Smells pretty damn good, at least compared to the MREs" a few quiet chuckles erupt.
" Damn Sneaker, did you get them to give you a glass of scotch and a cigar with the commander while you were there? And of course it smells better than the MRE's, my boots smell more appetising than the MRE's most nights. OK, we ambush the camp from the west side, Reaper and Mouse snipe the sentries and then we take them out from the gully along the side of the camp. Make sure you keep your heads down." the el'tee picks up the tablet and tucks it away into his pack as the rest of the unit melt away into the darkness. | 2022-07-23T06:53:38 | 2022-07-23T05:49:51 | 326 | 138 |
[WP] Satan sits on his throne just before the apocalypse, when the Earth will open and he shall rise as a great dragon to torment the world, as told in the Bible. Trembling, surrounded by sympathetic demons, he sweats in a panic thinking of the insurmountable military power of man that awaits him. | The Prince of Darkness strode back and forth across the throne room unable to remain still, muttering to himself all the while. Quietly approaching, one of the demons privy to address the Dark Lord directly questions,
"Are they not but flesh and blood wielding flimsy iron?"
Satan quickly stops, rotating on the spot to face the presumptuous demon and bends down to meet the creature at eye level. Instead of his usual bellows and grandeur, a pathetic whimpering is all that the terrible Satan could muster.
With a clean gesture a portal springs into being behind him to display images of humanity as he believed it was. Cavalry and cannons, archers and apothecaries, the hallmarks of grand wars in 17th century Europe.
"This is the Battle of Vienna, in 1683. We claimed a great many Ottoman souls during the fighting. God fearing souls that had no chance of resisting us," Satan explains before changing the imagery,
"That is what we thought it was. This is how it is now, over 300 years later."
The blast of field guns and black powder mines could be considered therapeutic to the horrors enveloping the minds of the assembled hellions and harpies.
"World War I, World War 2, Vietnam, Afghanistan. These just a few notable instances of humanity's rapid acceleration in lethal combat technology. A good archer can fell a man at 100 metres, but the modern soldier can fell 10 men at 200 metres with the training and weapons they now possess."
The demons gather around the portal observing the horrors of war, chittering amongst themselves about the impossibility of metal ships and wingless flying machines.
The continued debates and arguements of the congregation was interrupted by the appearance of a luminous heavenly messenger entering the throne room. Floating effortlessly towards the dejected Satan it whispered softly into his ear.
Waiting for a response, Satan quietly replies,
"If he wants a dragon, he can make one himself." | The battle had been raging for almost a month now, and Satan was in hiding, far from the passageway that the humans had turned into a death trap for any demons who attempted to come through. He sat in a ditch, wounded and unable to fly or even walk for that matter, as humanity's moving castles made from steel closed in. Soon they came within range and they fired their huge ballista which made a thunderous boom. The fiery arrows flew towards their target, adjusting their aim as the went. Above, more than a dozen synthetic angels, also forged from metal, launched their own arrows.
"What will happen when I die?" Satan asked himself quietly, knowing that this time the shots would surely be fatal.
He continued to wonder to himself. "Perhaps I will be gone forever."
"Perhaps I will meet him again."
He watched the artificial angels rise into the heavens.
"Or perhaps he is already dead too."
As the volley of flaming projectiles closed in, now followed by third, forth, and fifth volleys, he thought to himself: :Perhaps the dinosaurs weren't so bad after all." At first he chuckled at the thought, but soon he was full-on laughing.
This is my first post and I'm on mobile, so sorry if it's bad. | 2019-11-28T10:18:17 | 2019-11-28T09:42:23 | 45 | 17 |
[WP] When you reach the age of 21, you are given a check from the government. The check has been carefully calculated and is worth the minimum amount of money you need for the rest of your life. Your check came in the mail today and it was $7.27
Edit: Wow this blew up better than I thought it would. | I looked down at the email, and in that hot August evening, I knew what preparedness meant, and how rare preparedness truly is.
&#x200B;
$7.27 deposited to my account. The remainder of my life was being measured in currency, rather than time. My 21st trip around the sun resulted in growing old, even with barely two decades-worth of life spent.
&#x200B;
As I did when I needed clarity for nearly all of life's situations, I took a walk. Those past instances seemed so far behind me now as I took steps with the heaviest legs I've carried. The world felt as if it were sinking, like colors running down drenched artwork. I felt so much and so little, my body containing the madness as it figured out what to do with this new, unknown sensation; the constant thought of so little time, memories scattering, what it feels like to be dust, to be gone. All the money I'd spent, the people I made love to, the sensations of sunsets calming days, staring into another's eyes, hitting a joint, receiving a hug after having been away from a loved one for so long, would soon be retrospective.
&#x200B;
When you know and/or believe you will die soon, you remember in bits and pieces the people whom you love in your life the most, and how they will be without you. It is the gravest yet greatest ultimatum; to accept the beautiful people you will leave behind, and the ways that your presence affected them. It is the hardest attachment to sever; the ties to this magnificent dream that you've dreamt all your life.
&#x200B;
I cried and began walking in the direction of the gas station to buy my last pack of cigarettes. I hadn't puffed since I was 19; I figured now was inconsequential.
&#x200B;
I looked at the usual turquoise pack situated on the shelf behind the cashier. Gas station attendants have a particular way of being able to read human emotion to a tee, and he knew by my expression I was not having it that day. He turned to grab the pack.
&#x200B;
A blush of red caught the corner of my eye and I turned to look at freshly-picked, velvet-red roses, still glistening and vibrant from their fresh rounds of sunshine. I began to break, as I remembered my nine year-old sister's favorite color was red. It's always the random things that get to you. I told the cashier that the cigarettes were no longer necessary, and I deemed the $6.99 pricetag for the roses a far more worthy investment.
&#x200B;
The cashier scanned the flowers. I reached to grab my wallet, and in doing so happened to glance down at the price after tax:
&#x200B;
$7.27. | The battle for a theocracy was a turbulent one and was the cause of the single greatest loss of life since the second world war - dubbed the 10th crusade. Despite this, the battle was won and a new holy land was established. Jerusalem's economy tanked and people flocked to our new country, a holy country. It was wonderful.
Traditional thinking would tell you that society would quickly descend into anarchy as the inevitable disarray takes hold. Traditional thinking would be right was if not for one fundamentally flawed assumption. You see, the rich toiled in their bunkers hoping to wait out the worst of the looting and violence when something unprecedented happened: the government began to work in the best interest of the citizens. It was being run by the single smartest, most powerful entity - through a vessel. An unpleasant side effect of this however, was that no one could ignore the reality that God exists (though not for a lack of trying) and lifestyles had to change in accordance with that fact. It was now no longer just priests that took vows of poverty. On everyone's 18th birthday they are given exactly how much money they need for the rest of their humble lives, none can be borrowed, none can be earned. Whether the drying of funds precipitated or caused death is a hotly debated topic. Regardless, all but the terminally ill could expect a sum totalling in the low tens of thousands at the very least. Enter me.
$7.67. 767 *FUCKING* CENTS. Even with heavy government subsidies, this is not enough for a week - let alone a lifetime, so forgive my French. See, most would think this means that they are about to die, but me, I know I'm fine. I am two weeks from mission and in the 47 years this country has existed *not one person* has died this soon before mission. So what? Is god calling me fat? Angus Barbieri is whole number multiples heavier than me. So I do what every rational man of the cloth does and head to the temple, it's almost time for prayers anyways.
If you guys want more I'll finish this later. I got finals to study for. | 2019-04-24T12:56:00 | 2019-04-24T12:49:46 | 59 | 19 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second... | "Hey Elena, your birthday's next week right?"
"Yeah, Jason."
"So do you think it will happen?"
"I don't know. My dad's got a number like most everyone else but my mom has a number and a letter. We might be getting closer to figuring out what the birthday messages mean."
"My dad doesn't think they mean anything."
"I sort of hope he is right. I mean it just seems like it can't be good, right?"
"Well, let us know! See you after."
-----
Birthday Reveal
It wasn't a big deal in the Lazarus house. Elena had to stuff to do then anyway. They'd celebrate her birthday, but her real friends and her family didn't believe in worrying about (or all this carrying on) about some scar tissue. That's all it was really, this weird biological process that happened. It was like the patterns on butterflies. It didn't have to mean anything.
She was alone when it happened. She saw it appear. The number three. She could live with that. A perfectly respectable number. There were three people in her family. But there was more. A zero. That was unusual, but still that seemed fine. It was a little far away from the three but no big deal. Suddenly, she felt a blinding pain. She couldn't keep her eyes open anymore. She swayed on her feet. Then just as suddenly she came out of what felt like a long trance but had only been a minute to find two letters. L and V. Along with the numbers they did send a message. A message open to some interpretation but it seemed good: L0V3. She knew her life would change very soon and forever. She couldn't hide love. How could she? But this wasn't all good. There was no message that could be all good. She just hoped she wouldn't have to be willing to die for love. Was the world ready for an ambiguous message of love from a young, black woman? She was about to find out. | I sat there, waiting. Friends, family, all waiting to see the word. Would it be SCIENTIST, as everyone thought? Or would I get ARTIST? Maybe TEACHER? Who knew, until 2 appeared in mine. The only ones with 2 were the bigshots. But then... I saw them. MASTER ASSASSIN appeared. I walked to my room, grabbed the Remington 700 and MP7, picked up my backpack, threw 2 boxes of ammo in, and walked outside, off into the sunset.
--------------------
2 years later
--------------------
There I am, with my spotter, laying in the snow, snowboard beside me, ghillie on. Down the hill, my target awaits. I take aim, and fire. He crumples with the hit. I strap my bindings on, and my spotter puts his skis on. We ride down the slope, and see the body. I whip out my camera, snap a picture, and pull his wallet and IDs. I take my sat phone and dial up a number. "Auth code" the other end answers. "Alpha 9 2 2 4" "Roger, agent Smith. Sailfish is a success?" "Confirmed, Sailfish was successful. En route to CABIN." and I hang up. I look at my arm again, and think, just another day as a MASTER ASSASSIN. | 2017-03-15T22:51:26 | 2017-03-15T21:30:06 | 39 | 26 |
[WP] Researchers have developed a prototype for teleportation but it hasn’t been announced to the public. Being the 53rd tester, you hop in. But as the scientists pull the switch, you feel your body being ripped apart. Before you fade away, you see yourself come out, reassuring everyone it worked. | There was nothing in there.
He *knew* -- as best as someone like him could *know* anything – the second he came
out of the deep sleep. He knew he was not John A. anymore.
"How are you feeling, John?"
He understood – again, as best as an entity like him could *understand* -- that he was
supposed to be John A., fifty-third subject of an experiment that so far had failed fifty-two times. He understood the procedure consisted in attempting teleportation by means
of base-copying and mapping, on an atomic level, the original subject at coordinates X,
replicating it at coordinates Y then annihilating the original.
He was the replica. The first one to come out alive.
Well. "Alive" was not the right word.
"I feel fine," he replied.
He understood he was supposed to *feel*. He had the memories of the original John A.,
the personality traits firing around electric in his brain, neural bridges, everything a perfect copy of who John A. was the second he walked into that room.
And yet John A. understood now that he *wasn't* the original. He had the information in
his brain – the information that he was supposed to be conscious. That from that mass of
swirling electrical signals inside his brain was supposed to emerge, magically, impossibly,
an inner life. Colors, sounds, a stage onto which the drama of life played in shapes
beyond those of the rules of science.
Subjectivity. Conscious life.
The new John A. lacked this. He understood he was supposed to have it – the memories
of it were catalogued in his brain, memories from the real John A. The *knowledge* that
life was supposed to be *experienced* not just merely *processed* was in there.
And yet the lights simply were not on inside his brain. Something had gone wrong. Beyond
the façade John A. was simply *not there*.
No one noticed. He could, after all, walk and talk and smile like John A. At work they
called him the same nicknames. With his friends, the same old jokes. He made love to his
wife the same way. Played with his kids just like the original John.
In the mornings he watched the leaves on the big old sycamore by his front yard, holding
his coffee mug the same way, all just like the original John.
But it was just data. His wife, his kids, the tree – they were not beautiful, joyful, green.
They were raw data, constantly being processed and analysed – how to act, when to smile, what to say, how to drink the coffee…
He felt a pair of hands touching his shoulder, wrapping him from behind. His wife kissed his
neck, her hot breath on the back of his ear.
"Morning," she said.
John A. stared at the sycamore. Its leaves rustled in the wind, lively and green under the
coat of the morning sun.
*It must be beautiful* he thought, the very concept of the word 'beautiful' a mystery to him. What did *beautiful* feel like?
"Good morning," he said, turning to face his wife. He smiled. Then he paused. "I should get to work," he said. "I'm late already."
"Right." Lori turned her back on him and headed for the counter to start the kids'
breakfast. "I can't believe trials are ending by August."
"Yeah…" John said, watching her. "Me neither."
"By this time next year, we'll all be teleporting everywhere… everyone in the world!"
John A. stared at the back of his wife's neck as she turned on the stove. The sun fell around her in ribbons of whitened yellow, painting the linoleum floor. The chilly air of early morning filled with the hot smell of eggs and bacon.
In the distance, the rhythmic thump-thump of the kid's footsteps reached the kitchen, lazily, sleepily making their way down the wooden steps.
It was Tuesday, and John A. smiled, because that's what he was supposed to do.
____
/r/psycho_alpaca
| The first sign that something was wrong was the dozens of hands tugging on me as I felt myself almost ripped apart, dragged on a cold dusty floor.
My eyes widened as my heartbeat increased, a shadow standing in front of me. It would have been hard to distinguish if it was not all so familiar; it was undoubtedly me. I heard his voice as he walked into the light I had been robbed of. "It worked! It REALLY worked!"
It sounded so fake to me that I would have rolled my eyes if I was not too busy being kidnapped. A bag folded over my face as I received a blow to the head. I heard a loud ringing as I faded in and out of conciousness, my only grip on reality being the slow drip of blood on the side of my face.
I eventually stopped being dragged as they left me to lay on the ground. I came back at full awareness, completely able to hear the soft shuffles of dozens of feet all around me, surrounding me entierly.
I took time to breath. I figured they were watching... Waiting for me to wake up. Now was my time to recover as much as I could, a much needed reprive. My nosetrill were soon filled of a strong familiar odor. I felt like I was at a gas station, the stench of fuel almost invading my very being. I felt strapped to an car exhaust yet no motor was heard.
They must have realized that I stabilized at this point since they pulled the bag off my head. I was placed in front of strangers, every single one of them looking at me with a mix of determination, anger and somehow a glimpse of unmistakeable compassion.
Even with the bag off my vision was blurry. At first I thought it was from a possible concussion but I soon realised it was the air itself that was saturated. Behind them was a clouded sun, eerily shrouded in an eternal veil.
Every child of my generation had nightmares, visions of this desolated landscapes. The incessant warning of the scientists and climate expert who filled our lives yet failed to reach the ears of the eldest. I slowly stood up, my gaze locked in horror in my surroundings.
As I got up my eyes started to sting unpleasently, surely both from the pollution and pure unfiltered sadness. The hands that once pulled me so fiercely in this world were now resting calmly on me, trying to comfort me as I sobbed.
"We had no choice! We knew they would open a rip trough time at this specific place. We had to do it! Maybe this time we can convince them before it is too late!"
I looked around in confusion, but I soon understood. They were all familiar faces. Seeing as I have been studying climate change lately and being one of the best in the field, they were all people who recently broke out with revolutionary solutions and predictions.
"And you will be a part of it to. At least we hope. But you have to understand that we can't come back."
They let go of me. I was chocking as I turned around, my eyesight adapting to the haze as I looked from where I once came. I looked at the misterious portal, seen myself gesture to the scientists. Somehow I felt myself washed with a sense of pride. After all, was it not me that made this decision?
I sent my last bit of hopes to my older self.
They did say a significant sudden aging was to be expected. I had lost fate in that world, wanting to leave it before it turned like... This.
But now I had another chance.
| 2018-10-22T09:52:10 | 2018-10-22T09:43:21 | 5,293 | 256 |
[WP] "You may have one wish granted." "I want all my debts cleared." "How much do you owe?" "You misunderstand. My debts are not monetary." | It had taken decades to procure the final orb of power capable of summoning the beast beyond this world. That was more than enough time to learn how to seal the beast, command the beast, and understand the rules of the beast's power. All that remained was a simple ritual and I could have what was rightfully mine. I had sold my birthright for the pittance of a single night of passion as a foolish youth, but now I would reclaim what the heavens themselves owed me and exact my vengeance.
"Speak your wish, mortal, that I may be unsealed and judge your greed."
"Erase my debt."
The beast stared through me with an icy gaze as if to chill my very soul. I stood firm, refusing to compromise my demand. No threat of punishment for my greed would stand in my way. Not now, not when I was this close.
"Even if it is only to satisfy others, you would wish for wealth knowing the result?"
"I do not owe a single coin to any man dead or alive. I will say it again. Erase my debt."
The beast's stare shifted from judgment to piercing inquisition. The air of oppression weighing upon my chamber faltered for a moment in a betrayal of otherworldly resolution. I had won the contest of wills. All that remained was to claim the spoils of victory.
"Erase this debt of a thousand years, foul demon. Return my mortal lifespan to me and take this curse of blood away from me."
The beast nodded slowly and placed one craggy palm upon my head. A wave of sensations flooded my consciousness. A feeling of mortality, an unfulfilled hunger fading to nothingness, and a sense of incredible peace assured me that I could no longer be called a vampire. Having claimed his price in sin, the beast silently retreated through a curtain of fire to the unholy realm.
I drew a knife from my belt with a sigh. My debt had been erased in entirety. My thirst for vengeance had disappeared along with my thirst for blood. Even as a mortal, I still had my youth. That would be enough time to find a new purpose. | "Whatever you desire shall be done." It replied. "You must be specific. What do you owe?"
The man crossed his arms and looked down toward the ground in front of the large pot that the creature's smoky form emanated from.
"Promises. I have made many promises I now realize I can not keep. I've made good on some, but try as I may, I seem to have hit a wall."
"One wish mortal. Your race's laws are filled with loopholes, but you will find none here. You can't squirrel away a hundred wishes under the guise of one."
"It's all the same promise." The man said as he unfolded his arms. "I've promised to kill everyone on this list." He raised his hand toward the creature and a scroll filled with names running the length of half his body unfurled. Many of the names had been crossed out in red ink.
Smoke rushed from the pot and enveloped the parchment, bringing it close to the glowing orange eyes of the thing from inside the pot.
"Thirty lives in exchange for your death? You hate these people so badly you would die just to see their lives destroyed?" The thing asked.
"No, you've got it wrong. You're right, I hate them beyond description. But it's not thirty for one. It's just thirty."
"I see" the thing said. "As you request!"
| 2016-11-19T01:55:33 | 2016-11-19T01:39:09 | 36 | 13 |
[WP] Since it was decreed that consent is needed to turn humans into Vampires, the Vampire Population has dwindled over the recent years. Now vampires have missionaries to try convince people to convert to vampirism. Vampire missionaries have come knocking at your door. | "Can we come in?"
I stood in the doorway, unimpressed. Vamp missionaries were real tryhards. They wore some very sharp button-up suits, black with red interiors, with the mark of their tribe stitched above the breast. They each wore nice gloves and shoes, the women wore corsets. All of them had large gray umbrellas, except for one girl, whose umbrella was pink and had several cute animated characters on it.
"No. I'm not falling for that."
"Please? It's a very sunny day and all we'd like is to talk about some of the pillars of vampirism."
"I told you, no. Sorry. Have a nice day," I said, moving to close the door. As soon as it became apparent I wasn't going to be agreeable, they all turned to leave. Consent was a major part of their culture, Re-reborn Vampires told themselves they respected choice at every stage. And yet, here they were, begging doorstep to doorstep for common folk to swell their ranks again.
Before the door shut, though, the woman with the pink umbrella stepped up to my door. She had the fakest sweet smile I ever saw, but her eyes pleaded with me. "If you ever reconsider Vampirism, please think of the Sunstalker tribe, we welcome all."
She pushed a folded booklet into my hand. I recognized it as one of those handmade infoganda pamphlets, the type with little comics telling wildly incorrect assumptions about non-vampiric lifestyles, practically insulting to anyone with half a brain. The woman swiftly twirled around, and jogged a few steps to catch up. I overheard two of the men chastise her, but for what reason, I couldn't tell. I closed the door to them.
I unfolded the pamphlet and walked immediately to my shredder. It sat on a chair in my dining room, along with stacks of dead mail and half-read books. I turned it on, but then turned it off again when I caught a glimpse of freshly-scrawled handwriting in mint-green sharpie.
*WANT OUT. PLS HLP .-LAENA*
I went to the window. The vampires were gone. I got a sinking feeling that turned into a need to act. I looked up the Sunstalkers. Established in the 1430's, run by a real piece of work named Baron William Stanley Hastings IV. He had been a political tyrant for a couple hundred years until the American civil war, where he fought for the Union with the promise of land.
By then, Vampires were unofficially "out," but mostly kept their recruitment tactics under wraps. It wasn't until post WWII and the cultural revolution in the 60's where the consent debate really took hold of vampire culture and practically decimated their numbers. They were tired of being dusted on sight, protesters said, it wasn't fair to those who sought peaceful coexistence. Hastings was a big proponent of the Old Ways and clashed with the younger groups repeatedly.
The public sided with the protesters. Hastings dropped from sight. And now he was in my town acting like a goody-two-tooth. I checked the Vamp forums, there was some talk of the Sunstlkers *maybe* using non-consensual recruitment tactics, but the feds had been breathing down their necks for a decade with no real proof.
I decided right then I had to act.
\*\*\*
CONTINUED BELOW | I had just taken the chocolate chip cookies out of the oven when a knock at my door made me jump. I screamed a curse at the door as I burned the back of my hand on the oven and tossed the hot tray of cookies on top of the stove, fuming as I swung open the door. The pair of concerned silvery eyes that stared back at my obviously disheveled appearance caused me to sigh apologetically.
"Didn't mean ta Frighten' ya, lad. How can I help ya?" The man before me looked like a teenager, probably selling something for his school football team. He smiled up at me.
"Actually, I'm a missionary, and I swear I'm older than I look. Can I come in to have a chat about our group?" I gave a nod and stepped aside, allowing him into the meager excuse for a home I lived in. My hand throbbed from the burn. Shutting the door I went into the kitchen to grab some ice and a couple of glasses of milk, placing some cookies on a platter, I placed them and the milk on the coffee table gesturing for the lad to help himself. I covered my hand with the bag of ice and sat across from him on the simple sofa.
"So, which group are ya with then, lad?"
He grinned and sat up straight, proud to share his story. "I'm with Sanguis Regium, a highly private organization dedicated to gathering bright minds and open hearts together through the bond of Family."
"So... Yer a cult, then?" I cocked a brow and looked the lad up and down for a moment. It wasn't until I noticed the hint of a mark near the collar of his neatly trimmed jacket did the dots finally connect. "You're a Vampyre," I stated, my tone both amazed and afraid at the same time. I had never met one in person, and certainly never expected to have one come to my door.
"Please don't be afraid." He spoke with a frown as if fear was all he had ever known. "We only just started recruiting, you see, Vampires have existed since the dawn of time, however, there are only three pureblood families left. With purebloods being the only ones who can create new vampires, our kind is slowly dying out. We won't make you join, we just want you to come to a gathering, listen to our story, and we give you our word as a people that no one will touch you without your consent." He spoke frantically wanting to be sure he got everything out before I could tell him to leave. I didn't want him to.
&#x200B;
((Let me know if you want more?)) | 2022-12-02T08:46:56 | 2022-12-02T08:38:12 | 35 | 21 |
[WP] You are a barista in a 24 hour coffee shop. Every night at 3:33am a demon appears for the Dark Lord's latte. | "Listen here new guy. Every night at precisely 3:30am I brew a fresh pot of our darkest roast. I use a whole bag of our house blend. If you know what's good for you, you'll set an alarm to remember." He looks at me like I'm crazy.
"But.. We haven't seen a customer for at least an hour.. Also, why so strong?" He leans in closely as I press the button. Hot steam billows from the coffee maker as the beans begin to brew. I look him dead in the face and use my *serious* tone.
"Because Beelzebub is coming for The Dark Lord's coffee, and he likes it hot." I smirk a little at the look on his face. Poor new guy has no idea what's in store for him. Bless his heart.
"You're kidding? Isn't Beelzebub a vampire or something? He's not real." This guy thinks he's funny or something.
The machine starts to sputter as the coffee finishes up. As if perfectly timed the lights start to flicker and the temperature in the shop starts to rise. The new guy leans over the counter as I pop the top on the extra large togo cups I special order just for Him.
I hear a snorting sound from the new guy and he whispers "Are you serious?" As the shadowy figure steps in through the door. The footsteps are so soft, almost silent. A single light beams down upon our demonic guest.
"Training some fresh meat tonight my darling?" The voice was so horrible, deep and gutteral. Very uncharacteristic seeing as it was coming from the cutest little girl you've ever seen. Yep. Beelzebub loves to disguise himself as a little bouncy haired blonde girl with big blue eyes. Tonight he wore a hot pink dress with a little mermaid on the front.
"Yes! I grow weary and it's time to retire!" I smile the biggest smile. The new guy looked like his soul had left his body. He stood there gaping with his mouth open. I winked at him. This was too much fun. "Are we still on for our bargain?" I asked the sweet little girl as I handed her the drink.
Beelzebub rocked back and forth on her tiny heels. "Oh yes my darling! You shall live *deliciously* as promised." She looked at the new guy then back to me. "Bless his heart." She grinned the most evil little grin, winked at me, then burst into flames. The lights flickered back on and the temperature dropped.
"Wha.. What the hell!?" The new guy finally found his tongue. I spoke to him with my *serious* tone once more.
"You better set that alarm." | I poured the cream in the Dark Lord’s latte. I was told to make it dark as a corpse’s soul, and sweet as the honey of a million deceased honeybees. Whatever the hell that meant.
The demon lackey grunted when I handed him the latte, and tossed a penny in the tip jar.
“Thanks,” I said with the most insincere politeness I could muster.
“Is that sarcasm I detect?” Said the demon.
“There’s a line forming, so if you don’t mind…”
The demon was having none of it. He slammed the latte on the floor, growling deeply.
I glanced at the fallen cup of splattered latte. “You’re going to have to tidy that up.”
“You’re dead, barista boy…”
I laughed inwardly. Little did he know my covert secret. But I didn’t want to lose my job by revealing my side hustle.
The demon jumped up on the counter, and kicked his black clawed foot at my face.
“Ok then, I guess this is happening,” I said. I grabbed his support leg, and tripped him to the floor.
He hit the tiled ground with a loud thud, cracking his skull. I reached into my boot, where my demon-slaying dagger was concealed.
I held the knife to his black throat, told him to freeze. He didn’t listen. He grabbed my face with his claws, puncturing my cheek. Big mistake, freakshow….
I slammed the dagger into his hand, and he screeched. “Where did you get that weapon? You’re a damned rat!”
“No,” I said, lunging the dagger at his dark heart, shoving it to the hilt. “I’m a damned demon hunter.”
I wiped the green goo off the dagger on his raggy clothing, and stepped over his corpse. The Dark Lord would not be receiving his beverage today. And he would never receive it from me ever again…
I threw my apron to the floor and strode out the front door, into the cold morning air…
Because now and forever…
*I quit*. | 2022-10-30T12:33:33 | 2022-10-30T08:28:01 | 113 | 73 |
[WP] In Hell, your worst mistakes and cringiest moments are relived over and over. Your life, however, was a series of never ending awesomeness. Satan is getting fed up with you. | Cries of enthusiastic sex rang out from a small bedroom at the end of a dark hallway. Pop music thumped in the background as one voice, then another, then another, grew louder and louder until all three reached a screeching, simultaneous climax. A moment of silence went by before the door suddenly swung open. Two gorgeous women emerged, giggling at each other, barely able to walk straight. They passed a large young man in a varsity jacket, the unmistakable visage of an athlete. He watched as the two beautiful girls disappeared down the hallway into the main room, where the heart of the party continued to rage on.
I emerged from the room, stretching my back and yawning from the sexual workout I’d just endured.
"Holy Hell," all star high school athlete Vince Williams said through a mouthful of pizza. "Did you just come out of the bedroom with Julia Ling and Kelley Matthews? Did you… Did you just bang them both?"
"Maybe," I said, grabbing his slice from his hand and taking a bite.
“Wow,” he said. “Just wow.”
"Gross," I spat, "who eats anchovies?" I returned his slice to him and walked down the hall of the dimly lit home. Vince looked at me, dumbfounded.
The party was in full swing. Teenagers ran across the room in various states of undress, red solo cups in hand. In the corner several giggling girls, including the two I’d just had a very adequate ménage à trois with, were drawing on some poor sap who'd fallen asleep on the couch. I chuckled as one of the girls drew a particularly large, veiny some bitch of a cock on his forehead, then gave me a wink. I approached the mixing station, only to be immediately approached by another girl from school, Jessica Kiling. She was beautiful, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, the picture perfect rural American prom queen.
“Hey,” she whispered into my ear as I mixed Bacardi 151 with Sprite. “Julia and Kelley just told me about, well, you know. They told me how good you were… How big you were… and, well, I was thinking--.”
“GOD DAMN IT,” the red man screamed.
Jessica suddenly froze. Her blue eyes gradually began to fade away as I was pulled from the memory. I looked around, frantic as if waking up from The Matrix. I was no longer in high school, having Jessica beg me for a good pounding. I was in Hell, nailed to a table and surrounded by thousand foot walls of flame.
“Oh yeah,” I said. “I’m in Hell.”
“EVERY MEMORY IS LIKE THIS,” the demon complained. “YOU’RE REALLY MAKING MY LIFE DIFFICULT, MAN.”
“Yeah, well, you nailed me to this table after telling me my mother never really loved me, so, I think we’re even.”
“COME ON MAN, YOU HAVE TO HAVE ONE EMBARRASSING MOMENT. THERE’S NO WAY YOU WERE THIS AWESOME.”
“I don’t know; my memories are all screwy.”
“YEAH, THE MEMORY SIMULATOR WILL DO THAT,” the demon said.
“Did I tell you that you’re a lame looking demon? Like, you’re just a normal naked dude painted red. You don’t even have horns or anything.
“YEAH, YOU ALREADY SAID THAT.” The demon sat down on a nearby chair and cupped his head in his hands. “SATAN IS REALLY GONNA GET ME FOR THIS.”
“Aw, hey man,” I said from the table. “Don’t beat yourself up too much, man. It’s not your fault. I just had a pretty cool life is all.”
“PRETTY COOL? YOU WERE LIKE THE FONZIE TIMES A MILLION.”
“Thanks, man. That means a lot coming from a hell spawn.” I sat there in silence for a moment before a thought hit me. “Hey, demon. I can’t remember. How did I die?”
“I DON’T FUCKING KNOW,” he moaned. The demon then sat up and picked up a small remote from the floor. “LET’S SEE.”
The fiery scenery of Hell and the naked demon sitting next to me faded away. I couldn’t tell where I was at first. I felt the sudden great pain in my side. I turned to realize I was underwater and a great white the size of a sailboat was gnawing at my side. I pulled a knife from a holster on my shoulder and stuck it through the great predator’s nose. He roared in pain, letting go of his vice grip on my torso. I watched as he swam off into the darkness of the deep, my dagger still lodged in him. My lungs desperately short on air, I swam with all my might towards the surface.
A small vessel was near me, and none other than former President Barack Hussein Obama stood on its deck. “Did you get the device,” he yelled at me from the bow.
“Yes Mr. President,” I said as Secret Service tossed me a rope and hoisted me onto the ship.
He reached out and shook my hand. “You’ve done an incredible service to your country. I hope you know that.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said. The magnitude of my injuries suddenly hit me, and I collapsed upon the deck. Secret service men surrounded me.
“Everyone will know what a hero you were,” the President said, cupping my hand in his.
I smiled and closed my eyes…
“WOW,” the demon said.
“Oh yeah,” I began, “I remember that now.”
The demon got up from his chair and grabbed a hammer from a nearby tool box.
“YEAH, I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE,” he said as he started to remove the nails in my flesh that bound me to the wooden table.
I sat up, now free, and looked up at the large naked demon. “What am I supposed to do now,” I asked.
“I DON’T KNOW MAN, GO FUCK SOME DEMON WOMEN OR SOMETHING. I’M DONE.”
With that, the demon walked away, and I was alone with all my memories. I walked over and picked up the remote that the demon had left, smiled, and pressed play.
| I walked around Hell, the place is actually pretty normal. It is like Earth except instead of a nice blue sky and cool air, the sky is red and the air burns. However you are pretty okay with it since you are dead. I keep seeing people fuck up though. It is pretty embarrassing to see people do stuff like shit their pants in public and lose their job (yes we have jobs in Hell, what the Heaven are we supposed to do?). I don't understand why people here keep fucking up, nothing bad ever happens to me here. I go to work and go back to my barracks. I haven't even tripped and fell here, yet all these people, especially girls in skirts, trip on nothing and fall. Sheesh, why is everyone in hell a clumsy mess? Am I placed wrong? Are all the people like me in Heaven? Oh well, I can't change it now.
Today I was just walking to my barracks as usual, and suddenly I was greeted by a sudden flame in front of me.
"Hello Satan. It's great you're here, I have had a question for you." I say as Satan steps out of his flames and dusts the ash off of him.
"Hold on Joe, I have some questions for you first." Satan says, he looks oddly frustrated. He snaps his fingers and we are both engulfed in flames and brought back to what I assume is Satan's house. It is nice and cool in here and the floors are a nice marble.
"Woah, you have A/C in here?"
"Of course I do, I'm Satan, but even I have working standards."
"If those are your standards, then why do we not get A/C?"
"Dude, you are in hell because you suck as a person, if you want fun you should have been a saint." He sighs. He brings me over to an area where I can sit and talk with him face to face.
"So what is it you want to ask me about?" I ask Satan, laying back in my chair and looking him in the eyes.
"Oh right," he says, obviously a bit flustered by my conversation, he doesn't seem to talk to mortals much,
"Did you ever have an embarrassing moment in your life?" He asks, sternly. I think back trying to think of something, anything.
"Uhh I think I puked on my mom's shoulder once at 2 months old?" I say, being able to recall stuff I had forgotten when I was alive.
"No no no, you couldn't help that, you were only two months old, I mean like anything that you were ashamed of for a year or more."
"I don't think there is anything..." I say,
"Yep nothing, zip, zero" I confirm after running through my memory again.
"That's impossible..." Satan says, dumbfounded.
"Do you even know why you are in hell?" Satan asks me.
"No, that is what I was going to ask you, why am I here?" I ask.
"Uhhhh," Satan stammers,
"I have to check." He says. He snaps away and back with a large scroll.
"Uhhh, Joe Normal the first, Joe Normal the second, oh here you are Joe Normal the fifth! You are here because you were sent by God himself?" He asks and looks up at me. I shrug, not even remembering my time in heaven.
"Can you ask God?" I ask, wondering what God is like, and why a nice guy like home would send me here, where I don't belong.
Satan sighs and snaps a phone to his hand.
"Hey God?... No I am not going to call you Dad for the hundredth time. Uhh yeah I need you to come here for a second, we have an issue. Okay. Okay. See you in a bit. Bye. I don't love you stop saying that! Urgh!" Then he slams the phone down.
"He will be here in a bit." Satan sighs, I didn't know Satan was so emotional. A few seconds later God poofs in from a cloud.
"Hello my son, and Joe." He says.
"God, why is Joe here?" Satan asks, clearly irritated. God motions for Satan to go walk with him, I follow along, since I am dead to know.
"Okay Satan, listen, Joe has never made a mistake in his life, he was a famous bank robber who always got what he wanted. He was brought to heaven, because he made no mistakes, but he couldn't stay. I got so much shit from the angels for having a bank robber in heaven that eventually I had to send him down. However he obviously is too perfect for here too." I hear. I do recall being a bank robber, but I never thought of myself as so awesome as God said. That is when I decide to pipe in after eavesdropping.
"Maybe I could have my own little place?" I ask
"Absolutely not!" Satan and God say in unison. Jeeze okay then. I see Satan whispering something to God, then him whispering back.
"Okay Joe, we have decided. You are going to be a grim reaper! If you still feel misplaced then report back to us in a month." I am happy with my answer so I leave to pack up and move places.
God then turns to Satan.
"What if being a Grim Reaper doesn't work?"
"Then we send him to purgatory, we don't have time to deal with people like Joe."
"Agreed." God says.
Edit: 2 letters | 2017-07-23T10:33:04 | 2017-07-23T10:21:47 | 99 | 10 |
[WP] "What do you mean, 'It broke'"? | "I mean it broke. It's not working anymore."
"How do you break something like this?!"
"I don't know, I left them alone for like an hour and now its broken!"
"How the hell did you manage to break something this big?!"
"I already told you, I didn't do it! They did it themselves!"
"All my work creating, all that time we spent making it perfect for them, and they manage to break it, just like that? I find that hard to swallow."
"Well its true! I left them alone for literally an hour at most so I could take a break from observing them, and get something to eat!"
"Did you even take the time difference into consideration?"
"Whats that?"
"You know, the time difference."
"I have no clue what you mean."
"For fucks sake, you invented it so that you could observe them at an accelerated rate!"
"Oh. Fuck. I didn't realize how much it would work."
"Well from the looks of it, in that hour, they discovered nuclear power, and from that, they discovered nuclear weapons, and from that, they discovered that waging war with nuclear weapons will destroy all life."
"Fuck. I wanted to play with this one longer. I knew I should have included a backup species, somewhere in a different part of the universe. I guess I'll just have to start over." | I look up at her, feeling tears beginning to collect in my eyes.
"What do you mean, 'It broke'?"
She avoids looking back at me.
"I just don't feel it anymore."
I can't determine which disturbs me more- the situation at hand or her apathy to it. She checks her phone and tells me that she doesn't intend to stay any longer, then gets up and lets my hand slip off of hers.
"I wish you the best," she says, walking out the door which I had so often grown excited over her entering.
The woman who had fixed me was leaving, rendering me more broken than ever. | 2015-10-24T11:04:51 | 2015-10-24T10:19:41 | 27 | 17 |
[WP] There is a population limit to the galaxy. Whenever one sentient creature is born, another must die. With billions of unexpected deaths over the last few centuries, the galactic counsel has found the cause; a long ignored planet where a group of bipeds can't stop reproducing. | "Counselor Jaxa! The Drani research vessel is reporting unbelievable reading. Initial data seems to indicate a planet with nearly 9 billion of a single species on it!"
"You're telling me that a system so far away is home to that many life forms? How many exactly?"
"Not a system sir, a single planet. And... we can't seem to get an exact reading. Could be the atmosphere. It's a high oxygen nitrogen mix."
"Send the vessel down for a closer look, I want an exact count in a day."
*some time later. A large chamber with representatives from all known intelligence*
"How dare one planet decide who lives or dies!" One Counselor shouted. Waving its six arms in anger.
"They claim they didn't know, and I for one believe them, they *are* from that backwater solar system." A tall blue serpentine Counselor spoke up.
"We have records indicating that the system was informed two galactic years ago." Counselor Jaxa spoke up. He was furious, for his grandfather had died days ago, likely thanks to the breeding scum. He eyed the one in thea middle of the room with distaste.
It shuffled its bipedal feet on the ground, darting its eyes towards different Counselors. It saw one who's internal organs were visible, and the creature, who called itself Man, turned a interesting sjade of green and red.
It looked at the serpentine Counselor again, hoping for more reassurance, but not came. It made a funny little growl, and then spoke up. "How long exactly is a galactic year?"
One of the aids pulled out his time converter, and said "one galactic year consists of the galaxy making one full rotation around the singularity point. By my calculations about 250 million of your years."
The Man turned a very pale white this time. "You said... tw..wo galactic years ago? That was 500 million years years ago!"
"And? I see no problem with this." Jaxa responded his large pale eyes bearing into this Man.
"My species has only been around for 200 thousand years."
"This matters not. All life is in the balance! Reports say that you have 8.7 million *breeding* species! On one planet!" Jaxa shouted at the puny little thing.
There were outraged cries and many suggesting the planet be destroyed for the fairness of the universe as a whole. Few weakly protested but their voices were over shadowed by those who had lost loved ones to creatures who were incapable of selectively breeding.
r/LandOfMisfits | It was a beautiful summer afternoon. Birds were chirping kids were playing in the streets, there wasn't a cloud in sight.
There was one thing which rather spoiled this picturesque day. A massive spherical shape blocked out the sun for most of the central United States. Scientists didn't know what to make of it, the military wanted to nuke it, and several of the world's major religions decided that it was a sign from God. Most agreed that this was a sign of the apocalypse.
For the first time in history, they were absolutely right.
"People of Earth, may we have your attention please.", a droning voice said, "This is Bellagor, Prime Prefect of this Sector. I am here to inform you that you are all in violation of several intergalactic treaties regarding population growth." His voice was being broadcast through every working system with a speaker, this did nothing but exacerbate his terribly grating voice.
"I am here in order to deliver two options. First, we can set limits on reproduction, only allowing one half of breeding pairs to have children this generation....", an uproar broke out from just about everywhere on Earth. The Prefect barely needed a recording device to hear their response. Even from low orbit.
The Prefect sounded agitated, "Okay, okay. We can take the second option. Please yourselves. Prepare to glass the entire planet.", through the speakers, Earthicans everywhere could hear him walking away and muttering, "The ungrateful little sloggars, not my fault they breed like rodents."
People everywhere decided that this was the time. This was the perfect opportunity. They would finally get those televisions and digital watches they had always very much wanted, but could never afford. Some of them even had the chance to turn them on before the glassing began. They spent their final half hour on Earth watching that last episode of Stranger Things on Netflix, or if they weren't lucky, driving home so they could make use of their new flatscreen.
*****************
/r/SirLemoncakes
| 2018-11-29T09:57:16 | 2018-11-29T09:41:38 | 166 | 91 |
[WP] “Congratulations! Your god application has been accepted, please find enclosed, your universe…” | Oh. Haha. Very funny, asshole.
I clicked on the attachment and unzipped it to my desktop. A few more clicks, and the install wizard appeared.
*This Software Is Licensed And Copyrighted! No Unauthorized Use Permitted! Sharing This Software Is A Felony!*
...and so on, and so forth. I scanned the EULA for anything really crazy, but it seemed pretty boilerplate. User, henceforth known as Content Creator, accepts indemnity for suffering; Creator accepts indemnity for rogue elements arising; Creator is basically at fault for anything that could ever conceivably go wrong.
Don't sue us, we'll sue you. The battlecry of the corporatocracy.
I always felt a little icky, accepting EULAs. But 80% of my grade was suddenly riding on this, and my professor refused to accept any open source submissions. It had to be the genuine Godhood^[TM]©® experience, or I was out of the course.
Fucking sellout. He was on the board of directors for this software, too.
*First against the wall when the revolution comes, you nasty old bastard,* I thought, even as I clicked 'Agree.'
A parameter matrix popped up. Values for physics, chemistry, scale, a few odd variables. These would be the boundary conditions, set the rules going forward. Most of the actual intended involvement in the whole project was here. I checked my notes.
Light would be a constant; that would give FoR stability and prevent a colonization cascade... Gravity was... *Fuck it, I can just put the default ratio,* I thought. 'Mass' and 'Field' were the default choices for that, so I left those, too. I was planning to stress some other elements of the program already, no point in breaking anything else for funsies.
Let's see... Scale Granularity? Oh, right, pixelation, basically. I chose a pretty big value, since it shouldn't matter too much. But the field flagged an error. I was using the String option, so the minimum pixel size had to be small enough to resolve a String correctly. I begrudgingly changed it, sneering as the error box disappeared.
I loathed my professor, but... credit where it's due. His insistence on using this software had at least an iota of merit, because that mistake might have scuttled the whole project. I would eventually have found the error, but I'm not exactly known for my patience.
Chemistry was mostly selecting periodicity and how many dimensions of time affected reactions; I used the default periodicity, but changed Times to 1.
Ok. This was it. If I could prove that intelligence could arise in a universe using a single time dimension, my thesis would be proven correct. My professor swore up, down, widdershins, and sinistrous that intelligence was unique to universes that possess a minimum of three time dimensions.
So I had done the only rational thing. I had called him a pompous fool in love with the smell of his own theoretical offal, and demanded the opportunity to prove that intelligence wasn't restricted by T-complexity. He called me an ignorant whelp and informed me that I could start my thesis project early, for my impertinence.
Frustrated by the memory of being belittled in front of the class, I clicked through the rest of the parameters. I chose a simple 2:1 ratio of some common elements as the universal solvent, because I wanted life to flourish, widely and quickly.
Username... the final box, before my project officially began.
I stared at the screen. This felt a touch momentous, actually. I was already dreaming of interviews, of shaking hands with other esteemed Universalists, of being recognized for my brilliance. I noted the time coordinates, in case someone asked me for an interview someday, so I could tell them the exact moment I had officially proven my theory.
*Lucifer*, I typed, and committed my universe.
My new world began to compile, and I knew: I'd show them. I'd show them all. | I smiled. Finally! I picked up the obsidian-colored package, shimmering with the light of thousands of stars.
Maybe this time I won't screw up.
I untied the delicate strings of fate, tying them around my wrists. They were so shiny, I almost wanted to give them to the small feline by my side. But I knew they were important to the beings within my new universe.
Andromeda, my cat, hopped up onto the table, meowing. "Aw, you know you can't be up here! Dad's gotta be ready for his new job!"
She just purred.
I petted her soft black fur, carefully moving the box away. Don't need cat fur in there, no sir.
I laughed, picking her up. "Okay, okay, that's enough!" She stared at me with her beautiful purple eyes, naturally that were galaxy-patterned, as any god's pet should.
"Nope, that won't work on me this time, you little brat!"
I set her down on the floor. She turned her head to me with discontent before walking off.
I turned my attention back to the new universe.
What sort of misadventures awaited me here?
I thought back to my universes over the 70 years I've been working to become a good god.
I've always been scolded for joining those within my universes...but it was just so much better! Being a god in a universe gets boring after a while, you know. Can't have the thrill of a battle without mortal wounds, can't enjoy the littlest of moments when you have a whole universe at your disposal.
My first one, I became an assassin. I didn't like the way it was going, and changed things up. So mayyyyybe altering time and space to make a new life story was a wrong move. So what. Can't take the memories I've made there, authorities!
For a good while after that I was forced to care for universes with simple stakes. The only life I could live in those were that of a child. It was fun, I won't lie. But it got a little repetitive.
So when I applied for the third time I requested something more intriguing; more expansive.
I got one that I thought I'd like and take good care of. Until an argument out in my own reality shattered it.
It wasn't my fault. My friends got into a disagreement until the negative energy built up so much that it shattered in my own hands.
...
That still brought tears to my eyes. I missed them. Sure, we all have our own groups now and do our own things, working with our own universes. And I wasn't involved in the argument much anyways.
But that doesn't mean the memories don't hurt. I saw what my old friends were doing. I saw every day where they had gone and what kind of universes they had built.
I blinked away tears. That doesn't matter now. An adventure awaits.
I steadied my breath as I wrapped a bandanna around my eyes. Even when pretending to be a mortal, my eyes still revealed my true identity as a god. That happened once, not ideal.
I opened the box, the light of the new universe taking over my vision as I was transported into the new universe.
This time, no mistakes.
[Fun fact, this is a vaguepost of my main fandom. All I'll say is FavreMySabre is a good storyteller. Ask me to continue, I may not but who knows.] | 2022-03-12T10:34:57 | 2022-03-12T09:09:52 | 155 | 27 |
[WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened.
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | (Aight my first WP attempt so be kinda easy on me?)
I’m walking through the halls to my next class, getting the usual snicker here and there from my fellow classmates. “What a loser!” and “I can’t believe it!” Are the usual comments I hear from everyone. They all assume I had gotten some weak ass power, and that is hair manipulation, all because I simply couldn’t just pick one hair style for my character. You see, the thing is with this whole “Super power” phenomena is that the power you inherit is solely based on the last character you played in a video game, and I’m heavy on the ones that give you the option for a big selection of different options for every aspect of the body, and I never kept just one hair style throughout the entire game. So every now and then my hair would just randomly switch to another style, one minute I’m bald the next I’m looking like Jonathon Joestar. But the thing is that’s uhh... not exactly all I can do, it’s just what I show, because if I were to show to the real world what I could do? No one I know would be safe, not my family, not my friends, hell not even my girlfriend... With the character modifications I usually like to give them some whacky or overpowered trait depending on the game, and what I chose this time, while playing the game was a fantastic idea, but now in the real world? Not so much, I had chosen time manipulation. Now I know what you’re thinking “How in the hell could that put people in danger?” And I’m getting to that part, the thing that’s special about how my time manipulation works is it’s all based on my blood. What I take a small sharp object, make a nice cut along my palm, it starts glowing like some hocus pocus shit and I can fast forward time, reverse it, or outright stop it. That’s why I can’t ever tell anyone, not one single soul. | Some people became near gods. Flying, running at the speed of light. Some people could shoot elecricity from their fingertips.
The news went from boring politics one day, to men and women crackling with electric energy fighting in the streets.
After the dust settled, and the really bad guys guys were dead, and the good guys were banding together into teams.
no one even knew I had powers...
the day it happened, when everything went nuts. When the electric storm raged through the world, and my eighbor got the ability to leap over tall buildings in a single bound, I just sat there.
I just stood there with a strange new tool in my hand.
I kept it hidden. It was in the back of my closet, wrapped in old towels. I knew that if people saw it. They'd know what my true powers were.
Everyone thinks that my powers a simple superstrength. That i can just punch things and they break. I laugh and tell them I was playing dig dug.
People laugh about my powers. There are so many better ones, people say.
I just chuckle along, with a self depriciating way. It's best for them not to know about what's in my closet.
If they knew about the diamond pickaxe, and that i was in creative mode when i was using it. They'd be very very scared. | 2019-09-30T11:16:55 | 2019-08-12T00:49:37 | 64 | 18 |
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once. | Warning: Violence
I hate my school. Being the child of Thunderstruck and Icicle, everyone believes you'll have great powers, so they send you off to a school to be all the other runts that got powers or are children of superheroes. Well I'm sixteen and still don't have any powers. I had this nice little cliche of friends who were "late bloomers", but one by one, they all got their powers and until I was all by myself. You might think I would get bullied a lot, which I did, but only once.
Still remember that day, we just got a new transfer, Ricky. Ricky was born with normal parents but was blessed with super strength and super speed. Everyone before he joined mostly casted me as an outcast but they at least were sorry for me and didn't say anything to me, until Ricky showed up. Ricky immediately saw me as a easy target, and started with the bullying. Once he started, it was like the Dam opened. Everyone started picking on me, and that morning was hell. After second period, I went to the bathroom and balled my eyes out. It was easily my lowest moment. I heard the door open to the bathroom, and was fearful people were trying to find me and keep going with the bullying, but it was Mr. Tornelli.
Mr. Tornelli became one of my favorite teachers in the school. He was the human life teacher, teaching us what it is like to live in the normal world, and he was the only teacher without powers, so i bonded with him pretty quickly. He took me to his classroom and talked with me. I told him what all the kids were saying to me, and he told me "Unfortunately, you can't fight them, they'll easily beat you, but you need to find a way for them to respect you." I understood and I went back to class. I decided to show them what I can do during the lunch hour.
During lunch I walked with my lunch over to the table I normally sit at, some of my old friends sometimes sit with me, but today they stayed away. I only found Ricky at the table. "Hey, look who it is, and look they brought me lunch." Ricky went and immediately grabbed my tray from me. "Give that back!" I told him, but he immediately took a bite of my bologna sandwich, just as I planned. "What you gonna do, take a bite out of it now?" He asked as he offered my half eaten sandwich back to me. I grabbed his arm and slammed it into my knee, breaking in half. He let's out a blood curdling scream, he looks at his arm and then back at me, "YOU LITTLE SHIT!" He yelled as he threw a punch at me, I don't even flinch. As his hand lands on my face, I can feel the bones break in his hand. He screams out again "WHAT THE FUCK?!?" That's when I tell him, "You know everyone has a weakness. I was kinda shocked to learn yours was pepper's. So I just grounded up a pepper and mixed it in the mayo in my sandwich." He looked at me in horror, I continued. "I was suprised to hear what happens when you eat a pepper, you lose all your powers, but only for an hour. But another side effect during this is that your bones have the same strength as a toothpick from a restaurant, so what are you gonna do Ricky?" Ricky immediately started running and crying to the nurse. The whole lunch room was silent, I look around and yelled, "Well who's next!?!"
I almost got expelled, but with people coming forward saying I was bullied that day, and my dad being furious that they allowed this, they gave me 3 weeks of suspension. Ricky was casted up for months. Every once in awhile I see him giving me the evil stare, anytime I see him doing this, I just pull the pepper flakes out of my backpack and taunt him with it. Mr. Tornelli was not happy with what I did to Ricky, he wanted them to respect me, not fear me. My friends did come back to me and school got a little bit better. I learned that day, that its nice to be the outcast. | I had one bully, in the 12 years spent training at SSG. I remember him quite well. He had easily the most interesting, yet balanced powers available. He could fly, make energy, lift 3 Abrams tanks over his shoulder, and was able to change the secretions on his skin to match any known material. He got the nickname "Profit" after he singlehandedly charged the city's power grid after a blackout, while making silicone chunks with appraisal values in the thousands.
Back then, I didn't stand out. no funny business, no elaborate contraptions, nothing. In a school of supers, sat one normal child. Me. And the first one to notice was Profit.
I was clearing my locker, aiming for more space without looking like a neat freak. When the locker was finally finished, I shut the door and locked eyes with him.
"Out of everyone in this entire school, I've seen so many different powers. Telekinesis, teleportation, blood magic, hell, I even saw one kid turn into a golem." He said with as much pride as he could muster.
Looking back, Rockifier was so much happier in his school days. So was Monstrum.
"And yet, out of all of the students, not once have I, or anyone for that matter, seen your power. Now why is that?"
I shrugged. Deep down I had a feeling why, but if it was true, then why was I marked positive on every test I was given.
"I guess it hasn't manifested yet." I said with a slightly somber tone. My work with the locker satisfied, I turned and walked away. "Maybe one day everyone will see it."
Next thing I knew, my face connected with what is now Dreamcaster's locker. By now, most people in the hallway were powering up in an attempt to either break up the fight, or make it worse. Clearly he didn't like what I just said.
"Did I fucking say you could leave?"
I spat out before properly thinking "it was implied. Don't you know how conversations work?"
Pain ricocheted through my head as I felt his energy bouncing around at dangerous levels.
"Don't act smart with me, you powerless piece of shit! Now here's the deal, smartass, you're gonna take a test right in front of me, and I'm gonna find out one way or another how useless you truly are."
Somewhere, deep within, something clicked. Like a puzzle piece or a wire that just got plugged in.
Just then, one of the teachers launched Profit off of me into the concrete wall on the other side.
"Hey, you ok?" Said one of the other students. She ended up becoming IV, one of the top medical supers to ever exist.
"I'm... I'm fine, I think... Just a little scorched." I replied as I pointed at the now fried hair on the side of my head.
"You! What did you do?!?"
Suddenly, and very much without warning, the teacher, Profit, and everyone else was looking... At me.
"I, uh, wait what?"
"Boy, look at me, what did you do to Profit?" The teacher said with all the seriousness of someone who just watched another man die.
"What do you mean, what did I do? He just threw me into a locker and shocked my head! How is this my fault?"
The teacher looked angry for a second, then realized what I thought he said
"Oh, no, not that, we all saw him attack you. But that's not the issue here..."
"Then what is it?"
The entire school pointed back at Profit. By him was a guard who had a test in his hand... A negative test.
So yeah. I had a bully. And then I didn't. | 2022-11-02T11:15:42 | 2022-11-02T10:58:22 | 72 | 50 |
[WP] God decides he had enough of the humans and sends his angels to bring Armageddon. But seven years later, when God checks on the progress, humanity is doing better than ever.God demands an explanation.
Note: His or Her. | His attention elsewhere, God was shocked when he again turned it towards humanity. He sent his angels to end this creation, one of many whom had failed to meet his expectations. They were too peaceful to ever withstand the horrors that awaited for them in the greater universe, he couldn't bear to see any of his creations suffer, and so he sent his angels to end them, and bring the humans home.
What he saw was beyond his worst nightmares. Humanity's bloodsoaked past, back when he thought they would have to be destroyed to protect the universe at large, did not compare to the wrath that was visited upon his angels. His first children, the ones whom he personally crafted, made inherently good, the one's whom he thought were immortal, all of them were dead. He now looked back in time, seeing where it went wrong. The error he had made was sending them at all.
They tried floods, rising and falling temperatures, through all of it humanity stood bloodied, but unbowed. Fires, fierce storms, nothing that they brought down upon the realm of man could do the job. At last, six years in, the angels decided to fight the humans themselves. Clouds of gaseous death, great balls and mushrooms of fire, terrible sicknesses, birds of iron and fire, beasts of rock and smoke, weapons of unimaginable power, all of them had been made and used by the humans. Between the power of these creations of humanity, and the skill and ferocity of the human warriors themselves, these men whom called themselves "Soul Gers", rent the holy host asunder. This was but in the first three months of the last year.
God had always known that his first son, Lucifer, still cared deeply for his siblings, and he took a level of pride, as well as a tinge of irritation, that he disobeyed his father's command to remain the adversary to test the mortals, and came to the rescue of his falling comrades. The demons fared little better than the angels had. It was all Lucifer could do to bring them into his realm before new weapons of lightning and light were brought against them.
Within the last five months, the humans found the way to travel between the astral planes. At first, it seemed their lust for divine blood was slaked, that they had chosen a path of peace, and sought to explore the stars instead. They sent probes to many distant places in their galaxy, and had started planning potential colonies, both in areas where his sight reached, and where his eyes could not go. Then, three months ago, the humans found what they were looking for: the great black gate.
Almost immediately new machines, made in the image of man and taller than a hundred angels poured through the astral breach, the shots of their weapons slamming into the gate with the force of a million comets. These weapons only took three minutes to destroy the gate. Another fifteen, and they had broken through the many walls, tearing a path to the ninth circle. Then the "Soul Gers" returned, this time different.
They had been altered, their bodies now shown brighter than a thousand suns, their power undeniable. What god had made flawed, Man had made perfect. These warriors, men and women, didn't even need their weapons to tear the angels and demons apart. They could have done so with mere thoughts had they chosen, but for some reason they didn't. Those who resisted were destroyed. Those who could escape were allowed to only for later pursuit. Lucifer surrendered, and being that his actions were to defend his comrades, rather than inherently destroy Man, something happened that surprised god. Man honored the surrender. No conditions were set, none were demanded save one: never could the realm of hell again interfere with the affairs of Man. Lucifer, without options, agreed.
God knew his son would hold to that word. He also knew that he was about to have to attempt making a similar agreement, as his surviving angels, fleeing for their lives, were about to arrive at his doorstep.
With Man in hot pursuit. | It had taken a lot of courage and quite a lot of flapping but after the expected 3 years of travel between Heaven and Earth, Azrael was suddenly experiencing a strange emotion. Being close to YWE was an incredible honour, and Azrael lived to serve her lord. *However*, she feared. She feared the disappointment she might see in YWE's eyes.
That no longer mattered. The fighting had been going on for a year when Azrael left. Sariel had given her the strength of conviction to abandon the battlefield and report the dire situation. Sariel had been graced by YWE with a gift for guidance and her adamant assurance that this was the path carried Azrael's purple-black wings for years.
The familiar territory of her youth brought with it memories of boundless energy and the laughter shared with her siblings. Now the Eighth Sphere lay empty, the lights of Heaven long since dimmed with no one left to care for them.
It had been incredibly sudden, she remembered thinking while passing Sirius, guide dog of heaven. He was whimpering and lonely. I didn't have the time to comfort the poor creature, it's howls fading quickly into the expanse.
*I know boy, no one's been through here in a while.*
YWE's command had interrupted projects millennia in the making, which had been enough to bring about a splinter. It was an intensely confusing time, and in the hysteria, Manakel and Gavreel had decried the order and it's inherent violence.
"Something's wrong," They had said. "YWE must have made a mistake."
Pure heresy, but enough to cause some to listen. In their foolishness, they had armed the humans with the capacity to hurt us. It was on that golden blood soaked battlefield that I ran, to report our fallen brethren to YWE.
Seven in total. Manakel and Gavreel were first, which had obviously meant that Raphael sided with them. Their clique had been solid from the dawn of time, however...
We hadn't expected the Four Charioteers to turn too. Michael, Gabriel, Uriel and Saraquel had been enough to completely turn the battle into a massacre.
In my reminiscing, I almost bumped straight into the pearl gate. A massive structure of white pearl, wrought into a piece of pure majesty. It lay open and unguarded. The gates of heaven had never seemed so... tatty.
In a few quick minutes, I was there. The final door in YWE's house of open doors. The only one that remained shut.
*Never locked, only shut.* Sariel's soft voice was a half-remembered thought.
A half-remembered thought which gave me the final push to turn the handle and enter The Room. It was instant, and horrible. The feeling of your stomach dropping is not one an angel feels very often. Neither is the smell of a divine corpse. YWE lay dead and nothing made sense. We couldn't rot, and yet YWE was clearly rotting. I didn't need to breath but I was still hyperventilating. An answer I never wanted to come to started to form and along with it, so did he.
"There's a new boy in charge."
I had already given up long before Lucifer's frozen hands tore me apart. | 2017-05-15T17:43:59 | 2017-05-15T15:55:50 | 120 | 32 |
[WP] You're a bartender at the No Way Inn. The inn doesn't appear to have an entrance, but patrons always seem to find a way inside. The best part of your day is listening to the story of how they got in.
Inspired by [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/DnD/comments/wpjc02/oc_finally_finished_our_dd_room_after_2_years/) on r/DnD by u/Sky_Captain_Hana | "You have no idea how much I need this drink." A tired-looking woman in men's leather armor stomped up to the bar. Soil fell from her armor and her short, shaggy hair. She had a shovel on her back and a dagger on her waist.
"Which drink?" I held up a beer stein and a highball glass.
"Water," she said as she pointed to the beer stein, "and whiskey. It's been a day, and you don't make getting in here easy."
I filled the beer stein with water. She grabbed it from my hand and chugged. I nodded and held up the highball glass. "Rocks?"
She set the stein down, a little too hard. "Sorry. Yes. Rocks."
I put ice in the glass and poured a generous portion of local whiskey. There was a faint knocking on the wall.
"There you go. Everything alright?"
"I'm a dragon rider," she said with a sigh. "My dragon was kidnapped by orcs. I made it a good 40 miles today on horseback, but that's only halfway to Blood Mountain." She took a sip. "And then I had to dig into here."
"What the...? You DUG? Like, with a shovel?"
"I have dirt in my fucking hair."
"You're the first mundane who's gotten in here in years! That's impressive! Who *are* you, anyway?"
"Claire of Stormfall." She looked away. "I'm just a pissed off hunter trying to get my dragon back."
"I'm not sure you know how much strength it takes to get in here."
"All of it." She glared. "It took all of it. Do you rent rooms here?"
The knocking on the wall got louder. It was rhythmic and deliberate.
"We have one room available for tonight. Tell you what, I'm so impressed that I'll just let you have it." I grabbed a key from behind the bar and handed it to her. "Even has a bathtub."
A wizard materialized onto a table where an elven man and a witch were playing cards. There was a little yelling and arguing, but nothing terrible. Nothing surprising.
"Thanks. I'll be leaving early tomorrow. What do you have for food?"
"Stew."
"Yes, please!" For the first time since she entered the inn, she smiled.
I found the biggest bowl behind the bar, the one I usually saved for myself, and filled it with hot, thick venison stew. "How do you plan on getting your dragon back, anyway?"
"Dragon riders are bound to a code of honor toward their dragons, the people around them, and their prey. The code of honor doesn't have shit to say about dragon thieves!"
I raised an eyebrow.
"I'm gonna fight dirty. I have Bolt once he gets free, I have enough bombs to take down an orc fort--"
"Thank you for not using them to get in!" I let out a nervous giggle.
"I need those!" She snapped. "I also have a dagger to cut off toes and poison to pour on the wounds if things get desperate." She took a sip of whiskey.
The knocking on the wall was too loud to ignore.
"What the hell is that noise?" Claire asked.
The wall crumbled. There was a hole about four feet tall, and little hands were clearing chunks of stone away.
"Dwarves!" I laughed, I couldn't help it. Dwarves were such party animals! "DORF PARTY! I got twofers at the bar!"
I turned back to Claire. "That goes for you, too. Want another on the house?" | Iz was wiping down the bar and waving goodbye to a regular, when one of the oak floorboards started to shake and rattle up from the floor. Everyone paused, lagers in hand, with a shocked look as the nails were prayed from their positions and the floorboard was beaten into submission. Old John, who had had a few too many ales tonight, wobbled down to inspect his floors and their spontaneous movement. With a solid crack, the board connected onto wobbly John’s forehead.
Everyone gasped.
John went down like a fighter you hear in the stories. Clean knockout.
A young, grimy girl’s face stuck out from the soil and mud below. She looked as though she had spent the day in a coal mine. Smiling, she hoisted herself up from a small hole in the ground. She taunted and held out her arms in triumph as she looked around at the startled faces of the tavern.
“I did it, ya?” The girl said. “These fine folk down the road told me ‘bout this No Way Inn and how it’s got No Way In, ya know? Well, I did it. Nothin’ stops me.”
A few of the regulars stepped up to check on Old John. Still alive. Right bright red mark on his forehead though. They started to drag him off, when the girl paused to look at them.
“Don’t worry lass, just a bit too much to drink. Common thing round here, eh.” Marcus said. “We’ll get him somewhere soft for the night.”
The other large man, Travus, added, “Ya know, so often ye’d think they’d rightly make the floors a bit softer? Just in case?”
The girl shrugged and looked towards Iz. “Barkeep, whatcha got on tap tonight?”
“Uh,” Iz said, “we just got lagers here lass. Same as always.” Still shocked, Iz couldn’t find the words to say much more. He started to fill a stein.
“Gimme one of those and I’ll regale ya with my impressive story of how I broke in here! Ain’t so hard anyways ya know. Maybe one on the house for figuring it out?” The girl said.
“So, first I spent a good bitta daylight casin the joint. Really watching. Checking out to see if there was a hidden passage way. NOTHIN’. So I says to myself, there must be a tunnel somewhere else right? I dunno where this tunnel is though so I’ll just make my own I says! So then all I had to do was get my shov——“
“Lass, the name is uh, how do I say this. . . It’s really just a marketing ploy eh?” Iz said. “Next time, please save us all the trouble and renovations, and just use the back door.” | 2022-08-16T17:29:46 | 2022-08-16T12:55:29 | 43 | 30 |
[WP] It is the end of days. God and Lucifer stand before the last human being. You are the first neutral soul who is neither good or evil enough to pass into a afterlife and thus must be judged personally. Unknown to them, you are Death and have come for them instead. | They looked tired, incredibly so. I felt bad for them, I knew what they were going through, I had been going through that same process for ages now. It wasn't the same though, I was built differently. This little hunk of rock where the three of us stood was the last bastion of life in the universe. The crunch had begun a while ago, but to me it seemed like only yesterday.
"You," Lucifer said, chuckling. "You were surprisingly hard to find. This wouldn't have happened a couple of years ago."
"What's time anyways?" I asked, smiling. "A couple of years don't really mean much at this point."
The gorgeous man nodded before glancing up at the sky. It didn't look the way it was supposed to. This planet should've had an atmosphere similar to Earth's, where it all started, but in this moment, as the entire universe engulfed it, it was surrounded by the greatest firework show ever to exist.
"Well," God said, His voice granfatherly yet clearly exhausted. "It's time for you to come with us."
I shook my head.
"The universe is ending, little one," God told me. "There is not much time left for us."
Lucifer's eyes darted towards God, but he didn't say anything. I could tell that the fallen angel was scared. As scared as a mere mortal would've felt. God Himself wasn't scared, he was all-knowing, all-powerful. Well, almost. Much like Lucifer, God didn't know what was going to happen next and that meant that he couldn't control it either.
"There's not much time left," I agreed, sitting down on a rock. "But you're not here for me."
"What do you mean?" God asked.
Lucifer realized who I was first. The nature of his job meant that he was more intimately familiar with what I was. We had never interacted directly, but the cynical and jaded angel knew me as well as anyone. That doesn't mean much, but it was a curious surprise.
"So we are mere mortals after all, then."
God may have not known me as well, but He was no slouch in the deduction department either.
"Huh," he muttered. "I can honestly say I never expected this to happen."
I shrugged slightly. "You guys usually don't."
The two of them looked at each other. "A cycle?"
"Endless," I confirmed.
"So we'll come back?" Lucifer asked.
"No," I said sighing sadly. "Each universe is self contained, infinitely similar and infinitely different from the last."
"That's a paradox," God said, smiling. "So you can't stop this then?"
I shook my head.
The two entities looked at each other. For eons they had been the singular most powerful forces in the entirety of the universe. God had given Lucifer powers that no other angel had ever had. Their mission had gone exactly the way God had planned it to and humanity reached its true potential. It was a damn shame that it had coincided with the end of the universe. A damn shame.
"We did well," God told Lucifer. "I'm proud of you."
"Someone had to be the bad guy," Lucifer replied, tears forming in his eyes.
"It's time," I told them as the planet began to rumble.
"What happens next?" God asked. The irony of that question was lost to no one.
I shrugged. "Even I don't know."
Lucifer cleared his throat. "Let's move this along shall we?"
The two of them looked at each other for a moment before walking towards me. God placed his arm around Lucifer, embracing him like a son for the first time since he had cast him down from Heaven. Lucifer hesitated before returning the gesture, patting God's shoulder twice before closing his eyes.
I approached them and placed my hands in either of their shoulders. An instant was all it took and they were gone. I only had a few more instants before the universe collapsed upon itself. I spent them briefly wondering where the two entities would go after dying. Maybe they would simply cease existing, taking all human souls to the void with them, or maybe they would go to a higher Heaven. It was a mystery that I had long since come to terms with.
"All's well that ends well," I said as the universe exploded outwards yet again. | A white room, brilliantly lit, contained nothing but three chairs and a table. Sitting down in one of the chairs was a man, a tall thin man. His sunken, pale blue eyes watched the door intently. He knew why he was here. He had waited for this meeting since the creation of time its self. The door opened and two men walked into the room. The first was dressed in a white suit, so white one might say it glowed. He was an older gentlemen, perhaps late sixties? He smiled softly as he sat down in one of the chairs. The second wore a black suit, blacker than the blackest of nights. He was young, hair slicked back, a smirk that said he had something vile stewing in his head. First the elderly gentleman spoke:
"So Patrick, I trust you know why we are gathered here?"
"Yes" The man answered softly.
"Then I assume that you know what you must do, in order to-" He was cut off by the man in the black suit.
"You cannot simply go right into bringing him to your side! We had a clear agreement on how this was all supposed to go. First I will persuade him to come to me and then you would persuade him to come to you"
Before the man in white could answer Patrick spoke up.
"Gentlemen, I have waited a very long time for this moment, I assume that neither of you have taken into account that someone very important to both of your causes has gone missing."
Both men looked at Patrick, puzzled by what he had said.
"Both of you have employed my services since the creation of the human race, I did not, and still do not, care for your petty squabbles about right and wrong, sin and virtue. Both of you have overlooked exactly how you have existed for eons while the humans and other creatures only lasted a short time. When you, Satan, rebelled you brought myself and my brother into existence without even knowing it, Death and Suffering. We have existed almost as long as all of creation, yet we are not of creation.
My brother worked for both of you, allowing you to see the true nature of a person. Will they react to hardships with love and determination? Or will they allow the anger to build up and unleash more suffering on others? I delivered these souls to both of you, never asking for compensation. You both sat, for millennial, playing your game without ever asking what it cost to participate.
My brother and I are here to collect our just due."
Both God and Satan sat silent. A minute passed before Satan spoke:
"So what is it that you want for these services?"
"Well normally my brother and I would have collected from the loser in your little game. All his souls, all of his existence would belong to us. But your game has ended in a tie which complicates things. For the longest time we pondered this outcome, sometimes we questioned if the game would ever end. We eventually decided that if the game were to end in a tie then we would take everything, we would take both of you."
Both God and Satan rose quickly, unprepared for this turn of events. They turned to leave but another man was standing at the door. He looked similar to Patrick but his eyes were pure white and he wore a devilish grin.
"I am afraid you cannot leave without paying" Said Patrick as he rose. He pulled a long black scythe out from under the table. "I do apologize for the cliche but you must admit, the human representation of myself is rather stylish." And as he swung the blade, all of existence, all time and space and beyond time and space, ceased to exist. The game was finally over. | 2015-10-19T14:41:33 | 2015-10-19T13:38:24 | 214 | 34 |
[WP] You're a local healer, a good one, and your people love you. But you do not truly heal wounds, merely transfer them... The people of the valley below know you under a different name. | The villagers armed themselves when they heard she was coming. The demon. The reason half the villagers had festering wounds or illnesses they couldn't shake off. The neighbouring village didn't believe - their healer was their saviour. She wouldn't do that, they said.
But the villagers knew: she was demonkind.
"What are you doing here?" the village elder, Al, asked. He was trying to block the gate, wielding a cudgel.
The demon stopped. She had waist-length, burning copper hair. She was smiling.
"I've come to help you," she said softly. "You need my help."
"You're the reason we suffer," Al croaked. "We know what happens: every time you help someone *there*, one of us gets sick. Now get out, before I kill you. Or go down trying, at least."
The demon closed her eyes and waved one hand lazily through the air. The villagers cried out as their wounds sealed, their lungs cleared, their heads stopped spinning. Al himself felt his bad leg - which had slowly begun to rot, though he'd successfully kept it hidden - begin to heal.
"I know it's hard to believe, but I have a sister out there - spreading evil and disease, spreading lies about me," she said softly, smiling at Al as she stepped closer. "I've always tried to help you. And today, I want to move in among you. I've healed everyone in the other village. They're immune to my sister now. Can I start helping you?"
Al felt his resolve weaken as his leg grew stronger. She had such a soft, heartfelt smile. Her bright blue eyes were crinkled with kindness. It couldn't hurt to listen to her story, at least.
"There's leftover meat," he grunted, and stepped aside. "But I'm watching you."
The woman stepped forward confidently, towards the tantalising smell of food. The food and comfort was always better when there were people left to heal. The old village had been completely healed, and this one drained. It was time to move on. They would eventually forget to ask her about her sister. They always did, when she began healing them. Gratitude had a way of erasing suspicion.
A woman in the crowd stepped forward and swung a heavy plank against the demon's head. It gave an odd strangled sound and sank to the ground.
"You bloody fools," Al's wife Mary snapped as she gave the demon another smack for good measure. "You started listening to her!"
"Well, what about this sister of hers, eh?" Al demanded, but felt guilty. He'd almost forgotten about the plan.
"I'll believe in her bloody sister when we still get sick when she's dead," Mary grunted, and brought the plank decisively down once more.
A few villagers made movements to stop her - it felt wonderful to be so healthy, all of a sudden. Mary glowered at them as she wielded the bloody plank like a sword. She would end this once and for all, no matter who she brought down in the process.
"Don't you dare interfere," she warned, and turned back towards the half-dead demon.
___
Lisa stiffened as she heard her sister's voice in her head, screaming for help on the other side of the world.
What had she done to get into trouble this time? Eleanor had never fully mastered the art. She simply hurt or made someone sick in exchange for healing another. She could never manage outright killing. It was foolish. Someone was bound to try and get revenge sometime, she'd warned Eleanor a hundred times. But her sister was weak, too squeamish to *really* use her powers. She even tried to heal the people she'd hurt before, by switching between villages. Pathetic.
"Excuse me, my prince," she told the sick man, who was too weak to protest anyway. "I'll return to continue the healing soon."
Lisa left the sick room in a hurry, feeling uneasy. Eleanor might be a lost cause as far as mastering the dark arts went, but she was still her sister. She should at least go make sure she wasn't badly hurt.
She felt a sudden flicker of excitement. Who knew? Perhaps she could even heal the dying prince in the process. She'd just have to kill many people to finish the job.
And by the sound of her twin's screams, quite a few people were begging for a visit.
_______
You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | The woman thrashed on the bed while Jon washed his hands. The bile rose in this throat when he looked at her: the splinters of bone that emerged from the broken skin of her arm. They glistened white, red gore weeping around the crusted wounds. He rinsed his hands and patted them dry, keeping his breathing calm. The woman settled. Her name was Gemma. Sweat stood out cold on her brow.
"This will hurt," Jon promised her. He held a cup of willow bark tea to her mouth, dripping it over her chapped mouth. Her tongue was out and dry as sand. "I have to remove the splinters, and bind the wound. I will heal you."
He reached for thin metal tweezers. Gemma watched him with careful eyes, but she let him near her. Jon kept his promises.
There were five large fragments he could find: boar tusk that had broken when it pierced her. Geoff, the Mage-priest, had brought her in from the pine forest, staunching the blood with his black cloak. Jon laid the white bone aside, clinking into a ceramic bowl. In a white ewer he heated water and washed the wound with it, cleaning it with an antiseptic made from feverfew and tansy.
Geoff had wanted to stay, but magic and healing didn't mix. Jon unlaced the long ribbon of white linen bandages and laid them over the cleaned wound. Gemma watched him with the eyes of a trapped animal, breathing through her nose. Hair stuck to her forehead.
When it was done, he let her finish the tea and told Gemma how to keep the wound clean.
"Don't get it wet for several days," he said, seeing her out of the door. "Pay what you can, when you can. If there's any sign of rot, come back to me and I'll rebind it for you."
"Thank you, Jon," Gemma was steady on her feet, despite her white knuckled hand over the bandage.
Geoff stepped forwards as she left. He stood a head and a half taller than Jon, a thin moustache and a feeble beard growing over his weak chin. Jon scowled.
"What do you want?" Jon asked the Mage-priest. To Jon, Geoff seemed dangerous. People needed healing when they were hurt, not prayers or magic.
"You should have let me see her," Geoff said. "Her injury--"
"Can be solved with antiseptic and bandages, not humming and funny spells," Jon said firmly.
"Have it your way," Geoff said. "But remember that to everything there is a balance. Magic rules more than you think."
Jon rolled his eyes. He cleaned the white ewer in the stream outside his house, risning Gemma's blood away with lye soap. It trickled pink into the flow. The boar risk he buried beneath river rocks, hiding the memory of Gemma's pain.
The stream flowed on downstream, over the Cal hills and rushing through Barmet at the bottom of the foothills.
-----
In Barmet, a woman watched in horror as her skin tore open while she sewed. The skin split, opening like a wolf's mouth. White bone rose through the skin, growing like blind roots through the strings of muscle. When the pain started, she began to scream.
Geoff sat alone on the peak of the Cala Maan, legs crossed. His hands lay dead in his lap. With his mind, he sought out the source of the imbalance. In Barmet, the woman clutched at her bleeding arm.
Geoff smiled. Balance would be restored. Magic would reign supreme. | 2016-08-13T11:34:41 | 2016-08-13T09:14:36 | 39 | 20 |
[WP] You have one super power: The ability to know without fail what the truth is to any asked question. You planned to help the world as a super hero. It took you six hours for the government to declare you public enemy number one and the most deadly super villain alive. | When I walked into the hero recognition office I thought I was going to save the world; By the time I walked out I knew I would be the one to end it.
I got my superpower on the fourth of July. Some of my friends and I had gone down to the beach to light some fireworks. It was illegal of course, and dangerous, but there were enough people doing it already that one extra group wouldn’t hurt too much, at least that’s how we’d reasoned it to each other.
We’d gone pretty far down the beach to avoid the police, and we were running out of fireworks, so I drunkenly decided to launch all the rest at once for a finale. I placed the three of them in a line and started lighting one by one. To my credit, I actually succeeded, but one of them turned out to be a dud, so I did what any reasonable person would know not to do and walked up to it.
The next thing I saw was total darkness.
It’s in moments like these where you can catch a glimpse of the truth. It glowed like a firefly above me, taunting me for being human. Physicists call it the theory of everything, Plato called it “the good”, whatever you want to call it (I liked Fullmetal alchemist’s simple name: “the truth”), most have no Idea that it’s just within reach. You might see it when you sleep, or on your deathbed, or, like me, when you’ve been knocked unconscious, but it’s always just far away enough that you can never grasp it. But that day I did the one remarkable thing in my entire life — at least besides the things that were remarkably stupid— and caught it mid-flight.
I woke up with my girlfriend Ariella standing over me, her lips pressed thin with anxiety. I felt the rough sand beneath me and realized that I must not have been out for very long. When she saw that I was awake, she stormed off. Two of my friends, Zach and Daniel, were in a heated argument about whether the police should be allowed to put you on hold, which I gathered was why I was still on the beach. When they noticed that I was awake, they scurried over.
“I can’t fucking believe you did that,” said Zach
I looked over at them and with a straight face said
“You know, the reason why they put you on hold is that the calling center was overwhelmed. if you had called two minutes earlier then an old man would have died of a heart attack.”
After a moment or two of puzzled looks, they both burst into laughter.
“And how would you know?”
I looked at the sky. It was true, that statement was absurd, and yet I’d felt so confident about it. I looked back at Zach and Daniel.
“Ok, this is going to sound weird, but I want you guys to ask me something I would have absolutely no way of knowing”
Daniel was the first to respond.
“alright; what’s up with her”, he pointed with his thumb at Ariella smoking a cigarette in the distance.
“She’s upset because I barely talked with her for two weeks and then pulled some shit like this. She’s thinking about breaking up because I’m too erratic and she’s pulling too much weight in the relationship and it’s starting to feel one-sided” I replied almost instantly.
Daniel stared wide-eyed while Zach looked from me to Ariella and back repeatedly. The scene would’ve made me laugh had I not just learned that my girlfriend was thinking about breaking up with me.
It was Zach who responded next:
“So we can ask you...anything?”
I looked up at him, shaken. “I think so”
Three months later I was on my way to the official hero recognition office to announce my power. By then I’d figured out that I could answer written questions and by extension, ask myself anything, meaning that I had all the knowledge in the universe.
Almost shaking with excitement, I entered the building. This was it. I was going to meet all the heroes I’d grown up idolizing. I was greeted instead by a middle-aged bureaucrat in a suit: first I had to prove that my power existed. More people pretend they have powers than one would think, They made an entire government agency to regulate it.
And so I was herded past the gymnasium area, where I could see people performing various superhuman feats, and into a small room with a desk, where I was seated in front of yet another middle-aged government official, though this one had whiter hair.
The first question he asked was how I found out about my power, and so I answered.
His brow furrowed. In hindsight, I should’ve seen this coming, science has already documented how powers exist, and mine is an irregularity, to say the least.
“You say you can answer any question”
I nodded my head. They had tests prepared ahead of time, at least for the most interesting reports.
“What’s in the safe behind me”
“An eco-drive men’s chronograph with a satellite wave f900 GPS and a forty-nine-millimeter blue leather strap.” I didn’t need to give all that detail, but I wanted to impress, and, while I can’t manipulate the answers I give, they can be influenced by what I want to accomplish.
The man massaged his beard.
“Alright, what is the largest threat to human survival?”
Without hesitation and with complete confidence I repeated my own [name](https://www.reddit.com/r/Salad_Snack/) | I thought that knowing the truth could help save the world. I thought that I knew what it meant to be a super hero, what it meant to do the right thing.
Now, I know the real meaning of heroism.
And I’m probably going to die because of it.
It started out as a science experiment. My lab was testing our quantum field generator to see if we could learn from other Earths throughout the Multiverse. I went in to calibrate the left radiation dampener when Eric decided to pull a prank on me. He faked like he was going to turn the machine on, and I barely had time to roll my eyes before he slipped and fell on the controls, and...
My vision flashed. It was like I was in a room with mirrors for walls—I saw an infinite number of reflections of myself. I reached out to touch the closest mirror.
Something shifted within me. Sights, sounds, smells, more than I could ever hope to process flooded my brain at once. Then, everything focused down into a narrow black road ahead of me, with a computer terminal at the end. I walked slowly towards it, and placed my hand on the screen.
*The capital of Romania is Bucharest.*
*The derivative of cos(x) is -sin(x)*
*The sum of human truth now rests...in your mind.*
When I woke up again, the sun had clearly gone down. Eric was standing over me, staring down in horror.
“Jeff, are you OK?”
I looked at him, more than a little annoyed. Suddenly, the truth popped into my mind.
“Of course I’m not OK, you nearly just killed me because you resent me and you thought that you could play it off as an accident if I died in the machine.”
He staggered backwards. “That’s...that’s not true, man!”
“It is,” I said with complete confidence.
“I have to go now,” I added, walking towards the door as Eric backed away from me like a wounded animal.
I had the knowledge of the Multiverse in my head, and I had to use it for good. I knew what my first stop would be.
It took only a few minutes on the phone with my boss before she managed to get in touch with the right people. Four hours later, I was in front of the President of the United States.
“So, Jeff, is it son?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied without lifting my eyes.
“As President, you know that it is my job and my privilege to work in the best interest of the American people. I’ve been told that you know the answer to every question. Let’s start simple, what’s 2+2?”
“4,” I replied while staring at the table.
“How many states are there in the Union?”
“There would be 52 if your government believed in anything, but currently 50.” I raised my gaze to meet his this time.
“OK, OK, no need to go so hard on me, big guy!” he said with a loud chuckle and a steely glare.
“Now, onto the most important question: what is the biggest issue facing the American people?”
“The greed of our corporate oligarchy and the spineless corruption of our elected officials.”
His smile rapidly faded. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me the first time, Mr. President, as did the rest of your government, your wife, and both of your mistresses.”
“Alright, that’s enough, cut the cameras,” the President barked, all trace of a smile gone.
I stood up, and began to walk out of the room. “And just where do you think you’re going?” the Secret Service agent at the exit remarked.
“I’m going home, because the President cannot afford to execute me before I leave this building. That’ll start the revolution much faster than he can prepare for it.”
“Sir?” the agent spoke over my head to the President.
“Let him go. By the time we’re done with this footage, it won’t matter how far he runs.”
When I saw the news later that day, I was unsurprised to see that I was the most wanted man in the world. I was called “The Manipulator” and was named the world’s greatest supervillain.
I had set out to solve the world’s issues, and within a day I had started a revolution.
Heroes and villains are one thing. I thought that doing the right thing was the province of one side and not the other.
As it turns out, life is a little bit more complicated than that. To the people with power, I was a villain.
But to everyone else?
I might just be able to help them save the world after all.
__________________
If you liked this, check out my subreddit! r/NicodemusLux | 2020-11-30T14:34:23 | 2020-11-30T11:32:52 | 2,294 | 250 |
[WP] When two people get married, on the day of the wedding they are both given the ability to alter the appearance of their spouse to anything they wish. How do they change each other? How do they respond to what has been done to them? | It should come as no surprise that, when two furries get married, they each wish for the other person to become their true fursona, their inner animal that radiates the strongest in them. So when I woke up the next morning on the first day of the honeymoon, my wife and I somehow literally having become one flesh as a four-armed, two-headed, twin-tailed hermaphroditic self-procreating [bassarisk](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ringtail) taur, it really shouldn't have sent that many shockwaves throughout the community. But apparently, it's really rare for two people whom God has picked to be husband and wife to actually meet, let alone get married, and so that Biblical saying about their union can get a lot more literal when certain appearance-altering wishes are made.
Years have gone by since that day, and our many kids - who thankfully, at least for now, are normal humans - are starting to set out into the world themselves. Every night we pray that they, too, may find the person God has picked out for them, and we still have another litter on the way even now. It is good that our sudden fame brought us fortune and that we made good investments with it, as otherwise we'd be on the streets instead of in a mansion to house our family that could rival the Hopps' in its size. We run our lower belly, nipples pert for breastfeeding, and are about to relax for the night when the phone rings. We shed a few joyful tears when our first-born child shows up on the screen, conjoined to his wife as a two-headed hermaphroditic wolf. Yes, it may seem like a curse, literally being of one flesh with your spouse, but we can tell you: It is a blessing and joy that few things on Earth can match.
Edit: Two-headed, not two-handed. Thanks u/VennTheSW for pointing out that typo brought on by autocorrect. | “Bigger”
I said sternly looking at my husbands little man down there, Bigger.
“Bigger?”
He asked confused looking down at the thing as-well “Its like seven inches long, Any bigger would eve a hindrances to my daily life!” He tried to rebutt it but I was determined! DETERMINED to make it AtLeast 12 inches.
“MORE, BIGGER”
I scream, my spouse was obviously in a mix of shock and confusion as he watched myself go ham on the fact I wanted the man down there to be twelve inches…
“I AM NOT MAKING MY FOOT LONGER AGAIN! YOU ADDED 7 INCHES AND NOW YOU WANT ANOTHER 12 MORE!
He screamed, has he gone mad perhaps?
“ITS THE TREND! PLUS YOU WALK FASTER!”
“Bitch, if I am walking with a god damn foot this long each step will launch to the sky, and I ain’t no catapult!”
My husband maidenly rabbled, I cant believe he was this dumb!
“Wait…”
My husband paused, looking down
“Dear, are you lesbian?”
He concernly asked
“It’s Punishment for you not wanting the long feet!”
“Dear, You do realize I aswell can alter your body” | 2022-12-07T22:07:24 | 2022-12-07T20:59:42 | 29 | 14 |
[WP] whilst playing with sidewalk chalk, a 4 year old incidentally enslaves one of the most powerful demons in all interdimensional hellscapes | Mandy finished the last mark on her fancy new design for hopscotch, dropping her worn down nub of chalk into it's box. She stood back and smiled at her work, it had taken all afternoon, but she managed to do it! The pink and green star in front of her had little symbols she had invented to help her keep track of progress, her mom always told her she was smarter than other kids her age and she wanted to prove this with her new hopscotch star.
"Okay! Here I go mommy!"
Dusting off her dress, she stepped forward and began to hop from one tip of the star to the other. Upon crossing the threshold of the center marking, a little black ball materialized and prevented her from stepping on the ground. It rolled in place, knocking Mandy off and causing her to scrape herself on the pavement. Her blood left a trail from inside the star to where she landed. Tears began to well up in her eyes, but then suddenly all sound ceased and the world seemed to darken before her.
"W-w-what's going on?!" Mandy wailed, holding her wounded arm. "Mommy, I'm scared!"
The black ball began to grow translucent, a darkness emanating from it's core. Then suddenly a wave of blackness erupted out from the ball, reaching high above the blooded pentagram on the now seared pavement. A skeletal claw tore through the darkness, slamming down into the ground, digging deeply for grip. Pulling itself out of the darkness, a tall figure emerged. The darkness receded and seemed to cloak the creature. All that was visible was a stained off-white fanged skull within a blackened hood.
"Which arrogant, insignificant, ant thought they could summon me during a reaping?!" The hooded figure roared in anger, extending his right claw upwards. "I bend to no necromancers incantations, no creatures laws, I alone am supreme and I shan't be challenged!"
A dark obsidian staff began to form in it's clenched fist, with one end a sharp spear point and the other a massive scythe blade; both equally bloodstained. Slamming it down, enticing a fearful squeal out of Mandy, the figure tried to grasp at her. A strange force held its claw at bay.
"Leave me alone, please! My mommy will be here soon!"
Mandy huddled in upon herself, waiting for the fiend to kill her. But it never did, she eventually mustered up the courage to look up and instantly recognized the figure in front of her. It was the Grim Reaper. She realized it wasn't going to, or able to, hurt her.
"Where did you come from?"
The Grim Reaper cocked it's skull to the side, in disbelief at the ignorance of this pitiful creature. Tilting the blade towards her neck, it swung but was held back by the same unknown force.
"What form of deity or archaic are you? Show me your true form."
Mandy giggled, not afraid anymore.
"Don't be silly, I'm not one of those! I'm Mandy! And you're death!"
Just then Billy woke up.
"Wow, that was a weird dream! I don't think I ever saw Mandy or Grim act like that before!" | I awoke in blue fire. Satan was- *is* weaker than I. So... so do I seriously have to obey a four year old kid?!
Just an average day in Hell. Satan was slaughtering, Hades was picking fights, devil children were being born, souls were being ripped from the physical manifestations known as humans. Just an average day!
I was just relaxing next to my wife, talking to her about how I haven't been summoned in years!
"Sweetie, isn't it terrible how I, Lord Velikes has not been summoned in years?! I am the birth of death and fire!"
"Hun, you seriously got to stop being so pompous around me. I'm your wife. I couldn't give a shit who you are! I love you."
"Awww, babe!" I smiled "Wait, what?!"
Then, I felt it. The feeling you get when you get summoned! It's an amazing feeling. "Dear! I'm getting summoned! I'll be back as soon as I can!"
"Alright! Make sure to treat him right!" she winked.
I then commenced to fly through the walls of hell onto the black rock of Earth.
"Who dare summon I?! Lord Velikes!" I look down. *A fucking toddler summoned me?!* I screamed bullshit at the top of my lungs. I then kicked the little shit's toys around. That's when he started to cry.
"Ah, fuck!... Uh, hey buddy! It's me... Uncle Velikes! What do you need? Uncle Velikes loves you so much he would do anything for you!" Okay, before you say what the fuck I am doing, I didn't want to get the police involved. God would then notice and it would be shit from there on out.
"I want a toy car the size of a house!"
**WELL SHIT!** I can't do that! That would require the summoners soul, and I don't have the heart to do that. He is just a kid. I may be a demon, but I'm not an asshole.
"Uh, sure! I'll be right back" I then teleported back to Hell, grabbed my employees of my building company (Yes, I do own a building company), and told them to get to work.
A day later it was done.
"YAY!"
"Okay, make sure to have fun with it! Bye"
I vanished. Thank god- wait that feeling again! I'm being summone- **FUCK**!
What sat before my eyes was awful...
a fucking intelligible one year old... | 2015-06-13T23:56:09 | 2015-06-13T22:57:04 | 42 | 21 |
[WP] You run a tattoo parlor. Every couple of weeks, the same customer comes in, always requesting the same tattoo: an additional tally mark on an ever-growing cluster of tally marks. | The shop's bell rang, Mason could barely hear it over the buzz of his tattoo gun and death metal blaring from the small stereo in the back. Mason looked up from the butterfly tattoo he was doing on the college girls ankle and saw him. Tally. That was the nickname Mason had given the man because of the very specific tattoo he requested every two weeks like clockwork. After tattoo seventeen Mason had just started clearing his schedule for him. Tally nodded and sat down in a chair in the small lobby and waited for Mason to finish. With a few final lines and filling the butterfly was done and the the girl just absolutely loved it.
Mason walked up to Tally and extended a tattoo covered hand.
"Nice to see you again," Mason said with a smile.
"You too Mason, shop looks like it's doing well," Tally replied.
"Oh you know the usual, butterflies, stars, anchors, regular shit tattoos. You ready?"
"Of course," Tally said standing up and walking to the chair. He held out his left arm, the entire length of his forearm was tally marks, he was up to forty-six.
Mason had asked Tally once before what the tattoo signified but he was met with stony silence, but Mason wasn't one to give up.
"How many does this make?" Mason asked already knowing the answer.
"Forty-seven."
"Forty-seven what?"
"Forty-seven reasons to mind your own business." Tally stared Mason down.
Tally wasn't the largest man, but his gaze was unsettling, it made Mason's skin crawl.
"Fair enough."
Mason fired up his tattoo gun and got to work. It didn't take more than a few minutes to line it up with the existing tally marks and put the black ink into the man's arm.
"I need to apologize," Tally said his eyes cast downward, "I was being a dick."
"It's fine, I shouldn't have pried. Tattoos are personal, I should know that better than anyone."
"You are a good guy, I trust you Mason." Tally took a deep breath. "I'll tell you what the tattoo means."
Silence hung in the air between the two men.
"Each tally mark is a rescued dog."
"What?" Mason asked.
"I spent a few years in prison and while I was in there the thing I missed the most was my dog," Tally began, "while I was inside my dog passed away because there was no one there to care for him. So I made it my mission to help dogs that are in bad homes and I place them with loving families. Each tally mark is a dog that is in a new home."
"That...that is amazing. I would tell everyone that's what those marks are for!" Mason said with a broad grin.
"Well, let's just keep it between us," Tally said as he rose from the chair and handed Mason one hundred dollars in cash.
"That's way too much," Mason began to object.
"You deserve it, keep running an honest business we need more people like you in the world," Tally said as he walked out the door, the small bell ringing as the door swung open and shut.
"What a great guy," Mason said to himself.
In the corner of the tattoo parlor a news bulletin broke in over a day time talk show.
"Three bodies found in what appears to be an underground dog fighting ring. The police are ruling it a multiple homicide. More details at six," the slick haired man in a sharp suit said.
Mason paused for a second then shook his head.
"Naaah."
---
Thanks for reading!! Check out /r/Written4Reddit | *Jeezus Christ, not this guy again.*
"Mr Deayton! What a pleasure to see you again. How you been? You been to the gym? Those arms are positively bulging." I say as he enters the shop.
I like to have a good rapport with repeat customers, but Frank Deayton looks like one of those guys who could snap at any instant - and snap your neck too, whilst he's at it. So I try to be more friendly than usual with him.
"Need another notch added Tommy." the mountainous man rumbles. He walks over to his preferred leather chair and lowers his huge frame into it. The chair rocks back in shock and I worry for a moment that it is going to be the first in a chain of things to snap.
He pulls his top off to reveal huge pectorals that would make many of my female clientele envious. I begin warming up my tools. It is a simple tattoo and requires no real preparation.
He has five rows of four black notches inked onto his chest already, each row crossed out. It's a tally and I am about to add number 26. I begin sweating nervously. I have no idea why today of all days I am feeling a sense of guilt about this.
"So uh, busy week ahead Mr Deayton?" I ask. I like to get a conversation going as I work - it makes me feel more comfortable. And seeing as it's only me and him in the shop this evening I have little choice as to who that conversation is with.
He remains silent but looks at me and grins. I gulp and hope he doesn't realise how nervous I am.
"Got to start a new row. Below the left nipple I think. " I say to him.
"Perfect." His deep voice sends a shiver down my spine.
My hands shake as I work. I am being eaten up by what I am doing. I need to know what the marks represent. I hope they are cats he has saved from trees however I suspect a much darker reasoning behind them.
Sweat drips from my forehead and splashes onto the floor, but eventually I finish.
"You know what, better make it two notches." he says.
I stop moving for a moment, slightly stunned. *Why a second?*
I regain my composure and begin tattooing the next black mark.
"You wanna know what they mean, don't you?" he says smiling as I finish the second. I nod silently.
"I knew you did. You see, you were getting too nervous. Too curious. So, I needed an extra notch." He grins at me again. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the finality of oblivion.
"Relax, I'm kidding! I adopt cats from a shelter downtown. I just like to have something to mark the occasion. Thinking of heading down there again tonight."
I open my eyes and, standing in a growing pool of golden liquid, I let out an almighty laugh. | 2016-07-09T09:02:56 | 2016-07-09T08:44:18 | 150 | 84 |
[WP] You die and appear before the Devil and seven other individuals. They applaud you and the Devil exclaims, “finally, an eighth deadly sin!” | The devil cackled in delight. I looked around at the room, panicked. *Was I in hell?* The room was bare: white walls, no windows and a set of tables and chairs, all filled up. Several others sat in the room with me. From a distance they looked normal, but soon I realised differently. The man sitting to the leftest most had chins to spare, his biker shirt covered with grease. *Sloth.* To his right was a confident teen in a tux, admiring himself in a mirror. *Pride.*
I counted them. Seven. But then... who was I?
"Finally!" The devil exclaimed, his snake tongue flickering in and out of his mouth as he spoke, his red skin glinting in the hard light. "An eighth deadly sin!"
I felt like I was going to pass out. What was he talking about? An eighth deadly sin?
"You have it all wrong," I spluttered in despair. "There's been a mistake!"
My mind was racing. What could I have possibly done wrong? Sure, I wasn't the most devout or pious christian, but I didn't belong with any of the grotesque caricatures sitting in front of me.
"Oh, there's been no mistake, Tom," The devil smirked. "In fact, some might call you the deadliest of the eight."
"Listen, I'm not a bad person." I began, my voice cracking. "I've never done anything like that."
"Really? Do you need some reminding?"
The devil plopped himself into a chair opposite me, not unlike a police officer interrogating his hapless victim.
"January 13th, 2018, 7:13pm."
"That was yesterday." I said, frowning.
"Just one of many occasions," he continued. "You were browsing the internet on your computer, in your room on the second story of house 331 Chancery Drive."
I nodded, bracing myself for the worst.
"You were on reddit, and you saw a post," he said. "A run-of-the-mill meme. You laughed at it, sent it to your friend Sarah and Adam, and..."
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline.
"You didn't upvote it."
The seven people turned away their gazes in disgust. I couldn't blame them. I hung my head an stared blankly at the floor. The eighth deadly sin. The worst of them all. | My eyes darted back and forth between the beings that stood around me, all focused on my face as I came to. I started to get up and heard boisterous cheers and whistles. I was held down by a crushing weight around me. I felt like I was breathing fire. Is this... hell?
But wasn't this all made up? Red goat face, minions with pitchforks, pit of flames... Yet, the figures around me were unmistakable in demeanor. Every one of the eight, including the devil himself were the creatures that stood before me, each practically oozing their "sin." And if I just heard correctly, I am their newest addition.
I can't say it doesn't make sense. Ever since I was a kid, I had an unexplainable sense of duty in distributing as many chips and candies as I could to my classmates. As an adult- drugs, alcohol, sex were all my game. I'd always been way too good at persuasion; this wasn't without the helpful voices in my head, guiding my every move and helping me read my "victims" to see how I could best indulge them. Of course, I'd always questioned how all of the things necessary for me to keep "sharing" would seemingly materialize before my eyes (a needle kit in a freshly cleaned hotel bathroom, cigarettes and lighters in my shirt pocket, a bottomless purse at the casino). But it all makes so much sense now that I'm here...
All my life, I felt like I'd been surrounded by people with an all or nothing attitude. But I now realize that it was all my doing.
"Welcome home, Addiction," said Satan as he offered me his hand to help me up. "We had been waiting so long." | 2019-01-12T23:48:56 | 2019-01-12T22:19:40 | 43 | 27 |
[WP] The Mary Sue of a story becomes obsessed with a side-character when they do something impossible... they reject the Mary Sue. This leads to the Mary Sue using their ‘powers’ to attract them and the side-character being completely apathetic to their attempts. | It has been three days since Violet DeBlair, heir apparent to the DeBlair fortune declared her undying love for poor James O’Ripley. It has also been 3 days since he declined her advances on the basis of the fact that James is completely, unabashedly, undeniably not interested in her. Those have been the worst 3 days of his life.
You see, Ms. DeBlair has been spoiled her entire life. Coddled by her mother and father, never having to want, or wish for anything. She has grown nastily accustomed to never being told no. So when a boy who she believes has no choice but to love her says no, she goes a little crazy. The day after he had rejected her he woke up to find a brand new mustang in his driveway with a note on the windshield saying “How About Now?”
His mom called a towing company to get it out of the way so he could get to school. At school, she had hired a quartet to serenade him with songs of her undying love. So he left after second period to go find her.
“I’m not into you, and that is final!”, he shouted.
“Oh, how can you not be? Anything you could ever want at your fingertips. Including me~.”, she cooed.
He went about the rest of his day being harangued by her and her friends about giving her a chance. Which he staunchly refused, citing the fact that he has a girlfriend already.
He shouldn’t have mentioned that. You see, the next day Violet was in a much less kind mood with him. He came into the school not to see his girlfriend but to see her usual spot empty. No one has ever heard of her. Which James didn’t believe, especially when he saw a bunch of people walking along with the cutting edge of electronics. So once again he rushed to see Violet. But when he saw her, she wasn’t in her usual cutting edge fashion with flawless makeup. She looked disheveled, and that is terrifying to consider. The perfect queen of the school showing weakness? That’s not good at all. James, however, Didn’t care. He demanded answers.
“What did you do to her?”
“I have no idea what you mean sweetums”
“Do NOT call me sweetums you fucking psychopath”
“How rude! And I thought you were such a gentleman. My Daddy and Mommy won’t like their future son-in-law to be so rude.”
“Where. The. Hell. Is. SHE!”
She smiled, crookedly at him, she relented, “Oh fine, I’ll tell you. On one condition, you take me on a date tonight. Just you and me, and then if you’re still not convinced I’ll let her go and leave you be. Deal, Pookums?”
“Deal.”
(This is, BY FAR, the worst thing I’ve ever written, but if you want me to continue I will) | Jade was the closest thing to perfect that any human could be. Her school grades had always been straight A+'s, her clothes were always preppy, matching, and clean; she was known as well-mannered and kind, and was good at everything she tried. As a bonus, she was beautiful: Her features were small, delicate, and upturned, and her hair was always pulled into a long ribbon-secured ponytail of soft white-blonde ringlets. Her only flaw was that her heart belonged to someone far less perfect. His name was Jagger, and he was known for...nothing. Almost no one knew who he was. Jagger was one of those kids who flew under the radar. He had no friends, was in no clubs, and had straight C's. But that didn't change how Jade felt about him. Today, she had finally worked up the courage to confess her love to him. She could already imagine how it would go: The two of them, sitting under a cherry tree; she takes his hand, looks into his eyes, and begins to tell him the truth...
\*\*\*
Well, the actual confession wasn't quite as perfect as Jade imagined, but at least it was still happening. She ran up to him during homeroom, smiling brightly.
"Hi, Jagger!" she greeted him enthusiastically. He looked at her like she was from another planet.
"...Hey."
"I need to talk to you about something," she said. He nodded, inviting her to go on. Her smile widened as she did so. "I...I really like you. Do you want to go out sometime?" she asked.
"No thanks," Jagger answered calmly, turning to walk away. Jade gasped in horror.
"But why not?" she asked, wounded.
"Look, no offense or anything, but you're not really my type," he shrugged. Before Jade could protest, Jagger walked to his desk at the back of the classroom, not at all caring about the monumental declaration of love he'd just witnessed. Jade was crushed with disappointment, but tried not to let it bring her down. After all, she had her ways for winning people over.
&#x200B;
**If you liked this, there's more on** r/JustRandomness\*\*!\*\* | 2021-05-04T06:38:23 | 2021-05-04T04:53:43 | 88 | 64 |
[WP] You're an alien spy, disguising yourself as human to gather valuable information for the invasion. However, you just learned that your planet was destroyed by a supernova, and now you and several other agents are left on Earth as the last survivors. | As soon as I learned. That's when the tears started.
The transmission went silent in my ears, only replaced by a low, rumbling static. My human vision started to blur up, to do that weird thing that they called 'crying.' I didn't understand how it worked, or even fully why it happened. But whatever the reason for the lacrimation, it was happening to me, and I couldn't get it to stop.
My planet was destroyed. And I was sad about that, I'd have to be an unloyal piece of scum not to be, but the annoying liquid still dripping down the human race's primary sense was not helping anything.
I shook my head, the stringy brown strands of keratin ruffling above me. I scrunched my face, contorting it into what most humans called a scowl. I walked on, keeping up the standard three-step-per-second pace that was standard among the humans. The other humans, the ones who did more than merely wear the skin, rushed around me in a blur.
Male humans in fitting black clothing that was apparently very important an expensive walked by in a hurry. Female humans, some of them with human kin in their arms, rushed past without a glance. Every single one of them moved along on their own, not even sparing a glance to anyone else.
The static that still played in my ear from the cut-off transmission was quickly drowned out again by the commotion around me. Sounds—some that I'd specifically come to the planet to research—interrupted my thoughts at every turn. The clear, water-like liquid was still streaming down my cheeks, no matter how much I'd moved on.
My planet had been destroyed. I already *knew* that. I'd been sad, I'd taken my mandated 10 seconds of emotion. Why was the damn liquid still coming?
I shook my head again, finding it impossible to focus among the coordinated chaos around me. I watched above, looking around for the specific symbol of what they used as waste-removal rooms. Once I found one, I rushed toward it as quickly as I could with my stick-like human legs.
The nearly deafening sound of humans and their self-centered lives faded into a muted murmur as I entered the 'bathroom'. I looked around for a moment, once again wiping that liquid from my face. I needed a private space. I needed somewhere that I didn't have to interact with any of the other humans—a place where I had no chance of being, by their standards, 'embarrassed' for lacrimating in public.
I found that private space—or the best alternative to it—in one of the small, sectioned-off waste removal areas. Finding an open one was easy in the empty room, so I just picked the first one I saw and entered. Remembering an experience I'd witnessed in a room similar to the one I was in only months before, I latched the door.
Looking behind me at the white waste-removal device with its cover still on, I hesitated. This was what humans used, I reminded myself quickly before sitting down on the thing.
Suddenly, without my own movements or the movements of other humans around me, it was perfectly silent. Well, perfectly silent except for the dull static still ringing out in my ears. I triple tapped my temple with two of my human fingers. The static stopped.
And with it, the silence *truly* set in. I got time to think, which is exactly what I'd wanted. But the thoughts that entered my mind weren't exactly what I'd been expecting.
My planet had been destroyed, my thoughts repeated for the third time. Gone, just like that. Destroyed in a supernova light years away from me. All of my family, all of my kin, all of my associates. Gone, just like that.
My human eyebrows dropped on my face, the annoying liquid once again streaming down my face. I was confused. I'd already *gone* through my emotions, why was I feeling them again?
Without the rest of my race, I was all that was left. Well, only me and the other researchers like me who were investigating humanity. But they were each disguised and scattered thin. By the laws of probability, there was little chance that I'd ever have an interaction with them.
More of the 'tears' exited my eyes and covered my face. I got angry at them, trying to will them to stop. They didn't. And after a few moments, I even realized that I was making sounds too. The same, small, helpless sounds that human infants made was being produced by *my* mouth.
"Hey, are you okay in there?" a male human voice called from the other side of the stall.
"What?" I asked, my voice not taking the firm tone I'd intended. "Yeah... I'm..." I was at a lost for words.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" the man asked again, not letting up.
The main part of me rejected the idea. No. If I had emotions that extended past the allotted time, that was *my* problem to deal with. But from somewhere deep within me, different words were being produced. And those were the words that came out of my mouth.
"Yes."
The man nodded, I saw the movement from where I was sitting. "Okay, can I come in?"
"Yes," I said again, betraying any and all logic I should've been using.
The blue stall door opened, revealing the young, caring man. He smiled at me, instantly noticing the flood of tears still streaming down my face.
"I-I..." I started, finding no words to continue.
"It's okay," he said, increasing the warmth of his smile. "We can just talk."
He offered his hand to me, doing the gesture that meant he wanted to help me up. I stared at him for a moment, waiting to see the lies in his face—the lies characteristic of the human race as I'd studied them. But I found none of that, only the genuine care that was painted so clearly.
I took his hand.
"So, are you okay?" he asked warmly again as he led me out of the stall, still patting my human back.
I wanted to nod, to shoo him away with a human-like expressive gesture. But I couldn't. What I *actually* did was shake my head, betraying the truth to him.
For a second, I expected him to laugh, to ostricize me for making such a display. But he didn't. He just returned the same smile and looked ready to listen.
"Then what's wrong?"
His question echoed in my head, bringing up the full explanation to my tongue. I didn't know how much I could tell this man, but for some reason, it didn't seem like it mattered. As the words poured out of me, painful tone after painful tone, he just nodded along.
And as he did so, one thought became increasingly clear in my mind.
My planet may have been destroyed, and I may have been one of the last of my race.
But I wasn't really alone.
---
/r/Palmerranian
| "This is Sofass Shayum of galaxy sector 392. Do you read me command?", I said as I heard nothing but the static of the communicator. It is just like the simulations. Command told me that if the communication point went silent. They were all dead. I am alone...
&#x200B;
I rushed to the public lavatory to clear my mind on the current situation. I run in and shut the wooden portal to the room. I breath in a deep breath of 78.08% nitrogen, 20.95% oxygen, 0.93% argon, 0.038% carbon dioxide.
&#x200B;
Just then I hear the zipper of a mans pants. I turn to see Robert. I dislike Robert.. He turns to face me and a fake grin appears on his face.
&#x200B;
"Oh hey Alex! Me and the guys are going to the bar tonight. Would you like to join us?", he inquires in his idiotic and over-positive voice. I opened my mouth hole to tell him the usual answer of, "No Robert. I need to give my cat his daily dosage of feed". However, tonight was a different night.
&#x200B;
I knew that all of my kind were dead. My planet was most likely gone as well. I had no purpose in my existence. So I finally agreed to his begging request. It would be quite the experience to see what being "Wasted" is like.
&#x200B;
Me and Robert both left the public lavatory. I gathered my possessions into my carryall and left the office building. I walked outside and carried on to my path towards the public transportation station, when I heard Robert call my name.
&#x200B;
"Hey Alex, do you just want to ride with me?", Robert inquired. I evaluated the situation to find that that would indeed be the swiftest way to the beverage dispensary. I immediately got into his cramped automobile. It smelled of nicotine and body odor.
&#x200B;
Robert put on some electronic music coming from his speaker of sound. He claimed that his favorite music producer, Marshmello, had recently done a full length gathering of song in the game Fortnite. That did not concern me. I do not appeal to the actions of "small talk".
&#x200B;
After a 678 second drive to the drink dispensary, we evacuated the automobile. We entered the dispensary to hear the insincere greetings of our associates from work, Johnathan and Susan. They greeted us and we sat our posteriors on the hard foam of the barstools.
&#x200B;
Robert immediately bolstered out, "A round of Jack's on me!". Instantly, the drink attendant poured many miniature glasses of a caramel appearing drink. Robert glaced onto me and said, "Lets see Alex hammer some shots down!".
&#x200B;
Robert immediately bolstered out, "A round of Jack's on me!". Instantly, the drink attendant poured many miniature glasses of a caramel appearing drink. Robert glanced onto me and said, "Lets see Alex hammer some shots down!".
&#x200B;
The drink attendant placed five glasses in front of me. I looked at Robert as he egged me on to ingest the liquid cylinders. I immediately grabbed on glass after another and ingested the liquid. All five of the glasses were finished in less than ten seconds.
&#x200B;
I turn to see the three of my work associates staring at me with a blank and nearly shocked look on them. I then start to feel my chest gain heat. My face was beginning to turn red as well. My vision became blurred and unsteady. I kind of liked this feeling.
&#x200B;
Around 2,234 seconds later, everyone in our group was intoxicated. I laughed and actually felt the joys of human emotion. It was a very good time. I walk to the lounge located in the middle of the dispensary and sat down. Robert and Johnathan were continuing to order drinks as I just wanted to recover just in the slightest.
&#x200B;
I close my eyes for about 12 seconds and then I feel a pressure of weight on my lap. Susan positioned her posterior right on my lap. She must have made an accuracy error. I tried to re-adjust myself. She looked at me and said, "Oh whats wrong Alex? Don't you like this?". That statement confused me. Did she not make an error of accuracy?
&#x200B;
She then begins to state, "You know, I have been watching you. Your cute little accent and your properness really excites me". My face began to get red again. Not from the intoxication, but from human emotion. How? How am I feeling this human emotion?
&#x200B;
I position her onto the lounge cushion and swiftly walk away. Then I feel a vibration coming from my pants compartment.
&#x200B;
It was my communicator.
&#x200B;
I swiftly ran into the nearest public lavatory and answered.
&#x200B;
"Greetings Sofass Shayum of galaxy sector 392. This is R'Qojqui Eruce of galaxy sector 392. It has come to my understanding that the command center and our planet have been destroyed by a super nova. It is in our best interests to regroup and shuttle back to galaxy sector 345 for re-deployment. We shall meet in one hun...". I immediately destroy my communications device.
&#x200B;
I cannot go back to the way things used to be. I have experienced too much, and at the same time, not enough. It is impossible for me to abandon my new acquaintances now. I must stay here and enjoy my life.
&#x200B;
Humans are not so bad after all.
&#x200B;
\*Thanks for reading! This is my first ever response to a r/WritingPrompts post. I hope you enjoyed it!
&#x200B;
&#x200B; | 2019-03-09T17:31:52 | 2019-03-09T17:15:03 | 81 | 10 |
[WP]You work at an air traffic control tower. A plane that disappeared 12 years ago has contacted you on the radio to let you know they'll be landing at the airport in 15 minutes. | At 2 am on our small, country airfield, the soft sprinkle of rain against the control tower windows played in my ears like a lullaby. If it weren't for my 4th cup of coffee, and my three colleagues, I would have been long sunken into sleep. The gentle glow of our worn out desk lamps were our only means of lighting the card game we occupied ourselves with.
The night shift was slow, and we liked it that way. Wed been working it together for around 8 months, the other three had been here almost a year. I came in late to the show, transferring out of a major airport where the workload was much heavier and therefore, much more stressful. I needed the change of scenery.
I had lost the last three hands and was coming up on my fourth. Dramatically I slapped my cards down, and stood to go grab another cigarette from my desk. As I lit it and took a drag, the splatter of rain began flashing green. Below, the radar had detected a blip, and it was circling our tower.
I stared, then turned to the window. There was no sound of a plane, and certainly no lights.
“Hey”, I called to the 3. They turned their heads.
“There's a plane here”. They scanned the perimeter of the tower and turned back to me.
“Uh, nope”.
“The radar says-” the radio scrambles on two desks away, cutting me off.
A man's voice breaks through.
“This is Captain Morgan of flight 3403 requesting landing, over.”
We say nothing. We stare at eachother, then the radio. The voice comes through again.
“This is Captain Morgan of flight 3403 from Chicago requesting clearance to land, over”.
I walk over to the radio and raise the mic to my mouth, gripping the PTT button.
“3403 this is control” -I look for the plane once more- “uh, we have you circling us on the radar but we can't seem to locate your plane outside. Your lights are on, correct? Over”.
The radio scrambles, the calm voice responds.
“I imagine you couldn't see us, we're still 15 minutes out“- I look to the crew- “Are we clear, Control? Over”.
I look to the radar. There's now 3 blips circling our tower.
“We weren't expecting an incoming flight tonight, over”.
No response. White noise.
“Yes, yes, you're clear to land, over”.
I drop the radio. My colleagues head to their desks and equipment.
“Can someone please look up that flight number?”, I call out. The blips are multiplying constantly, nearly the entire radar had gone neon green.
“Uh, Perry?”
I head over to my colleague's desk.
“So, this actually is flight 3403’s destination”.
“Why isn't it in the incoming log then”.
He pulls up a registrar of our company's past flights.
“It was… supposed to arrive 12 years ago.”
I say nothing.
“I… I ran the flight number and it's in our logs but it never arrived. It was expected 12 years ago but never arrived.”
I went back to the radio.
“Flight 3403, this is Control, over”
Nothing.
“Flight 3403, this is Control, over”
Not even white noise.
I look back to the radar. It shows no incoming planes.
“Flight 3403, this is Control….” | The air traffic control room was silent one second, and pandemonium the next. Red phones were being taken off their hooks and top secret clearances were being used. Me? I just sat and stared at my computer absolutely dumbfounded. Airway 8793 had disappeared twelve years ago to the day, and yet here they were calling us. There was no way; it had to be a hoax. I heard the pilot buzz in.
"Air traffic control, do you copy? Airway 8793 is fifteen minutes out, are we cleared for landing?"
"T-That, uh. Well, um. Y-yeah. Copy, 8793. You are cleared for landing." I managed to get out, looking at my supervisor, Frank, for help. He was shaking his head, staring at me. He was in the same boat. Awesome.
Frank did turn to another controller, however, "I want the airway shut down. Cancel all flights in and out. Divert everyone. Call the authorities, NOW." He screamed the last part before yanking out his cigarettes and lighting up right there. Not that anyone blamed him.
The next fifteen minutes were agonizing. It felt like an entire lifetime before we could see the plane coming in. Sure as shit it was 8793. I wanted to vomit all of my breakfast and lunch onto the floor, but that wouldn't help anyone. Instead, I drank some water to calm down. The runway was silent except for the black SUVs pulling up.
Finally, the plane landed. It stopped. It felt like everyone held their breath as maintenance rolled up with the stairs, no terminal access for this plane. We could practically hear the seal breaking from the tower as all eyes were on the plane. The new girl had her cellphone out, filming; not that it did any good. The entire area was without internet right now. All signals were shut off.
The tick, tick, tick of the clock was brutal as we waited for someone to emerge. And she did. A small, slight flight attendant emerged at last. She looked terrified, and I'm sure she was, everything probably looked different. A collective breath was released as she was escorted down. Time resumed. Everyone was evacuated from the plane, one by one, and placed into custody for who knows what. Maybe experimentation, maybe something else. I'm not paid enough to know that shit.
My phone went off and I opened it up to see the latest news article: *Last humans finally rounded up. All alternate dimensions are now human free. Work is cancelled for the next week, effective immediately.*
It looks like we finally got the last ones. They had been flying around for decades, escaping us at every turn. A few times they had managed to go backwards in time and warn humanity, but we always won. This is what they get for broadcasting themselves into space like a bunch of neanderthals as they say. | 2017-09-09T23:17:00 | 2017-09-09T19:31:46 | 175 | 112 |
[WP] An immortal is experiencing the heat death of the universe, when he can hear the sounds of confetti, and blasting music. The music stops with a record scratch, and a bewildered voice can be heard saying: "Wait...one's still here?" | There he stood, alone in the void. Distant in the nether the last star flickered. Cain closed his eyes, welcoming the embrace of entropy in all of existence. Darkness swallowed and the universe came to a halt, all atoms staying still, all matter and energy ceasing the infinite ballet of changing states. Each and every quark collapsing to a final state. All, but his consciousness, stood still. And, as if holding it's breath for one last time, the universe ceased to be.
He felt his body reach something, no longer floating in nothingness. He opened his antediluvian eyes and noticed that his body stood in two feet. A door was a few meters from him, music played on the other side, people cheered and light leaked from it's borders.
He walked, unsure of where or in what his feet stood. One step after the other the door drew closer. When his right hand reached for the door knob, electricity flew through his body, it did not hurt him, but it awoke his eon old muscles. He turned the door knob and pulled it open. Light blasted from the door, as if a explosion of sound, light, and warmth poured from inside that small room.
He covered his eyes from the light and little by little the voices started to die down, a scratch stopped the music and silence now reigned. Cain uncovered his eyes and looked confused to a room full of silhouettes. They seemed human like, but he could not define what or who they were, his eyes hurt when he looked at them.
"Oh crap! This again?!" A blue silhouette spoke.
"Hey isn't that the same guy from last time?" A white one laid on a green sofa, a beer bottle in one of his hands. "Crap, did it leak out?" With a jump he moved towards the door and shoved Cain aside, looking outside to the nether. "Dammit Bob, why do we even have this door in the first place?"
A green silhouette pushed through the crowd and jumped on his feet when he looked at Cain and the open door. "What in creation?! This guy again? Shouldn't Sally have fixed this bug already?" He typed something in his wrist, with each hit of his fingers light pulsed through his body. "Have we lost any data?"
A black silhouette approached, a triangle of all colors shone over her head. "Ok boys, we will have to start again. We lost all data. Again. I'm making this bug priority one. Party is over, let's get back to work."
The other beings mumbled and walked through another door, getting outside of Cain's sight. He tried to mutter anything, but... what sense could he make of all this? What was happening?
The black one became of all colors now, the triangle turned into a single eye, which looked at Cain. "Well, we can't have the simulation without you, can we? Off you go." She pushed him towards the door, he instinctively tried to hold on the sides but it was for no avail. He fell, the floor now gone.
The universe around him simmered with color and movement. One by one new explosions happened and, all at once, life and movement returned. He then remembered with a soundless "oh!" that this wasn't the first time he saw this and, after millennia, Cain smiled, and closed his eyes.
He cried. A woman held his small head in her hands and smiled. He heard her uther. "I'll call you Cain, son of Adam." | As he stood wincing, he looked out over the vast plain of space and time. Billions of light years of matter and energy begin hurling themselves inwards. The immortal looked out. Where, once there was an infinite sea of stars, now is a rapid influx of heavenly bodies and dust. His pain intensified. Yet, he couldn't help but admire the beauty of the destruction. The entire cosmos seemed to be converging into one giant mass. Gas, dust, rock, and sun all packed into an increasingly cramped space. At the center of it all, was a singular point of bright light.
The light, already brilliant and intense and more so than anything in sight, only got brighter with the consumption of each celestial mass. Both the light and his pain were unrelenting. The pain seemed to match the ingestion of stars. Despite the onslaught of stars and matter, the point of light appeared to be shrinking. A vortex of matter swirled around the light. As stars and planets got closer to the vortex, they were ripped apart. Stripped down to atoms, all succumbed to the Vortex and were eventually swallowed by the light.
The immortal could only watch as the light consumed everything that came near. The radiation of light intensified, but still decreased in size. Everything began to get smaller. Then, a crack of sound propagated through dust and outward in every direction as if an explosion occurred. The immortal looked in and saw no change to the light, no change to the vortex, and no change to the galaxies drawing ever nearer. The sound was as incredible as the light. However, the sound, light and pain grew together. Stuck in space and time, the immortal could not escape what was happening before him.
Where there was once a vast ocean of galaxies and an infinite horizon, the immortal could now see a wall of light followed by darkness. Pain, light and sound consumed all of his senses. The rush of matter blurred with the speed at which it was attracted to the light. Yet, smaller all things got. Until, there was no more to consume. All things known in the universe began its death spiral in the vortex, before yielding to the light. Then, all sound ceased. There was only light. And pain.
Guided by notion, the immortal took the light into his hand. Its glow felt warm and seemed to ease the pain. As the pain subsided, the immortal felt the vast emptiness that surrounded him. Soon, the pain stopped. The immortal looked into the light, its warmth fading as did its radiance. A calm fell over the immortal. No more pain, no more light. The vacuum of darkness washed over him.
The long tone of the electrocardiograph pierced the silence in the hospital room. Mark's wife and children began sobbing quietly. The flatline let them know his fight with cancer was over. His daughter cried and held on to her mother. "He's in a better place now." | 2017-05-03T08:13:31 | 2017-05-03T06:31:42 | 38 | 16 |
[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. | I swallowed some bile that had built up in my throat as I signed the contract on the table in front of me. As I reached to sign the final page, the man across from me reached and held my wrist. “Are you sure that you don’t need more time? I’ve had 3 people quit in the past month.”, he said to me in a concerned tone.
“I know what I’m doing.”, I replied, knowing well that I had 2 mortgages to pay off and 3 mouths to feed. As I signed that final page, my mind flashed back to my wife squeezing my hand with misty eyes as I left the house this morning. A small smile crept onto my face, knowing that I was making every sacrifice for the ones I love most.
My daydream was interrupted by the man reaching out to shake my hand and informing me that my office was at the end of the hall. I took a deep breath, straightened my suit and walked out of the shiny chrome office. I made my way down the hallway, now seeming much longer than it had on the way here.
“8 hours of this a day isn’t that bad...”, I thought as I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding until now. I put my hand on the doorknob of a heavy metal door with a small plate inscribed with “Pitbull (Mr. 305 / Mr. Worldwide) Quality Assurance”.
I sat in the seat, put the noise cancelling headphones, put the first of many CDs in the player and pressed play.
“Mr 305, to Mr. Worldwide..” | 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. | 2018-08-02T15:51:31 | 2018-08-02T14:20:23 | 42 | 10 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later | Laura held the mug in her hand and stared up and in front of her. The first shelf of the cabinet was full of plates and bowls. The second shelf was for glasses, and there may have been a little space. She packed the glasses more closely, eliminating empty space between glasses, effectively transferring it all to one spot. She tried to place her new mug, even pushed, and was rewarded with the sound of ceramic on glass, and glass on glass objects rubbing against each other. She shuddered, felt a rise of annoyance, but quickly calmed herself and sighed. She'd had years of practice of shutting down negative emotions that would lead to a wish that her problem would just magically disappear.
No worries, there would be somewhere else. She opened up the next cabinet over, but it was full of tupperware and baking dishes. She opened the cabinet under the sink, where the pots and pans were. It could go here. Alone. A solo mug among pots and pans. That was too ridiculous though. You couldn't stick one mug with all the pots and pans. Or could you? No one had to know. She imagined her mother coming over and opening the cabinet, seeing the single mug, and staring at her with a look of....she realized that this was not the right solution.
She went back over to the cabinet and looked at the top shelf. It was completely empty, but always just a bit out of reach, even though she was a little taller than average. The answer really was pretty simple. She put a knee up on the counter, grabbed the 2nd shelf of the cabinet and awkwardly pulled herself up. She reached up with her other hand to place the mug and was accosted with a vision of herself falling, which she shrugged off, but was quickly followed up with the question of how she was going to get the mug back down when she wanted it, this really wasn't the best solution. She realized she was getting worked up again, and lost her concentration enough that her hand that was stabilizing her by gripping the shelf lost its hold. She lurched her body forward to correct, but then her knee slipped and gravity did the rest.
The floor was cold, her jaw hurt, her arm had a scrape that was bleeding slightly, and one of the larger remains of the shattered mug lay next to her head. Half of the cartoon whale's face that had been painted on the mug stared at her from the shattered remnants seemed to stare at her asking, "Why, why didn't you save me?"
A man knelt down next to her.
"I was on a date," he said in a remarkably flat manner.
Her head was ringing, and had a doctor asked she'd have told him 7 on a 10 point scale for pain, though it was already fading.
"It hurts," she said in an attempt to explain her situation.
"You're alright, I saw the whole thing, you know I get the whole update when I get transported."
He stood up suddenly, looked in the corner, rolled his eyes, and then walked over to the closet and opened it.
"You moved your broom." He walked back over to her broom in hand. "Come on, sit up."
She didn't. He put his hand on her shoulder, "You're alright, you didn't hit your chin that hard on the way down. You sort of slid off. It was pretty comical to be honest."
"You didn't use to be such a dick," she muttered as she sat up.
"Come on," he said as he grabbed her hand and gently, but firmly helped her to her feet. He led her around the island to the couch and sat her back down, and then went back to the kitchen without a word. Her jaw was at a 6 now, and the ringing had mostly stopped. She heard sweeping in the kitchen.
Five minutes later he wandered back in with neosporin. He uncapped it.
"No, I can do that," she said.
He opened his mouth and closed it again, looked annoyed, and handed her the tube. He sat for a second, as she started to apply the neosporin to her scrape, and he got up again, and came back with a glass of water and some advil a few minutes later.
She swallowed the advil, took a sip, and said, "I'm sorry about your date."
"I wasn't that interested," he said, "it was really just something to do on a Saturday night. She kept trying to weedle out of me how much I make. 'what do you do, where did you go to school, where do you live down to the neighborhood' those sorts of questions."
"She's just trying to get to know you," Laura said.
"That's a very plausible explanation. One thing I can say for sure is that I was bored," he reached into his pocket and pulled out two pieces of the mug and putting them together. "I like him," he said pointing to the reformed whale.
"Oh yes! He's so cute!"
"Favorite mug?"
"I just got him today, I didn't even get to use it."
"You've always liked whales." He pulled out his phone, "I went whale watching with my parents a couple of months ago." He handed her the phone.
"Oh a minke!"
"Is it? I wasn't really paying attention to the tour guide."
"You can't tell? The dorsal fin, the coloring, the..."
"It's a whale." Laura glared at him. "Not that I have anything against whales, I just don't run into them that much."
They sat in silence for a few moments. "Why am I still here?"
| It seems like every time I ran into Amelia Fowler she was in the middle of some kind of catastrophe. Just last week she had a flat tire at two in the morning twenty miles out of town, with no one around but cows and cotton. A month ago it was in line at the grocery store with a shopping cart the contents of which almost brought a tear to my eye and a check card that couldn't cover even that. I helped. I couldn't not help. It didn't matter that we'd been done for eight months, or dated for three weeks. She was a person, and she needed someone, and I was there. That's what you do in small towns like this.
I guess that's why we started dating in the first place. The "in need" part, not the small town part, although that was probably some of it, too. When you are fifteen and everything feels like it's the most important thing in the world, that is enough. Sitting in the back of my old truck, I promised her the world and she blushed and was beautiful and we loved each other. But the Fowler clan was a train wreck. Amelia was abused, neglected, addicted, and already working on her criminal record then, at sixteen. I should never have gotten involved with her. The whole thing blew up less than a month after it started.
Eventually I realized she must have been getting herself in trouble around me on purpose, like as a way to control me or something. That was the kind of thing a girl like her would do. It's not her fault; not exactly, but I wasn't going to be manipulated like that. I started distancing myself from Amelia. Still I would run into her from time to time, and always she was in the middle of some crisis. At first I was kind with her. Then I was patient. I became firm. I became Angry. Finally I became cruel. I said mean things to her about who she was and how she lived. I still helped. You have to help people. But I wish I hadn't said those things.
As time went on, I ran into Amelia less and less often. I heard from a friend of a friend that she had gotten herself knocked up by and then married to some office worker type. Unexciting, but stable. That sounded like a good thing, and I was happy for her.
Gradually, I began to forget about Amelia Fowler.
...
It was really unusual for the bastards to take us anywhere. They mostly liked to keep us locked up in our shitty little rooms unless it was time for medicine or "food." Today they'd gotten it into their piss-for-brains heads to drag us old geezers out to the park for some "Eeh-an-richmint," as that lousy dick of a head nurse pronounces it.
Some of the geezers who have decent families are going to have a nice afternoon frolicking in the Goddamned daisy or whatever. My wife is dead. Fuck, most of my kids are dead. They don't tell you about that shit when you're growing up! Life kills people! And the ones who are still alive aren't worth two shits.
So I was looking forward to sitting alone on a hot hillside in the middle of June like the subject of some kind of shitty dollar store painting 'cause it'd make dick feel like he was doing his job.
Anyway, we'd been out there for a little over forty-five minutes, and my ass was killing me. That piece-of-crap lawn chair must have been made in Nicaragua. Why can't shit come from China anymore like in the good old days? When all of a sudden this old biddy, who was hobbling along on her walker, keels over right there on my spot of grass; pissed off the pigeons. I was trying to enjoy the view of the lake and here's this bitch, flopping on the ground clutching at her back pissing and moaning.
So I haul my aching, wrinkly old ass out of my piece-of-shit Nicaraguan chair and kneel down in the stifling heat of that mosquito-infested June morning to see what's wrong. I roll her over and damned if it isn't Amelia Fowler.
"My God it's you!" She exhaled. "I'm having a heart attack. It's my fourth one. I know what they feel like, and I know I'm not going to make it."
"Amelia what is this shit? You think I can't tell a fake heart attack? I did fifteen years with-" I started, but she cut me off.
"Shut up, Frank. I don't know where I would have wound up if I'd have never met you, but I can guess. I'm dying an old woman with a full life instead of a young girl with stupid ideas 'cause of you. I needed to tell you that. I promise I won't need you again."
I yelled for dick, and he stumbled over and bumbled though ECPR, but Amelia was right. She was done for. That was the last time I saw Amelia Fowler. | 2017-03-22T17:00:16 | 2017-03-22T13:26:15 | 44 | 21 |
[WP] Anyone holding a world record is immortal as long as he holds the record. You are the oldest person alive. | As I sit in the mansion overlooking the vast Martian sea, I reflect on the last five-hundred and twenty-three years of my existence, still in the prime of my youth. The thing about living half a milennium is that it comes with near-intolerable boredom as well as a skewed sense of time. A particularly uneventful year might feel like a month, while some of the more exciting years - such as those in which the Inner Planetary Olympiad is held - shoot by like a week.
I am bored beyond belief. Of course, I could choose to die any time. Those of us who hold pan-human records (they abolished "world records" two hundred odd years ago on account of Venusian and Martian colonists finding it to be uninclusive) can kill ourselves whenever we feel like. Some, like Hiro Yamada, the late pan-human record holder for Most Escargot Eaten In An Hour (264, for the record), go out in a blaze of glory - old Hiro chose to hop on a landspeeder, accelerate it to its highest possible speed, and crashed head-first into Olympus Mons. He was atomised on impact. They say that there's a bit of Hiro in every lungful of Martian air.
And then there was Lucille Rousseau, the former pan-human record holder for Fastest Completion of Super Mario Bros. (1 minute and 32 seconds. Don't ask me how.) She grew bored after the first two hundred years and held a big party at her mansion over the course of five days, at the end of which she wrapped her big red-painted lips around the end of a pistol and blew her brains out. Guests of honour got to keep some of the skull fragments.
For a mortal I suppose it might be possible that such a sedate attitude to suicide or death is disrespectful or even morbid, but once death becomes something you don't have to worry about, it becomes something of a grim joke. We've already lived long past when nature intended us to, we're just thinking up the most interesting way to actualise *Thanatos*.
And then there's me. I hold two pan-human records: First, Most Toothpicks Swallowed In an Hour, which is a feat few have attempted to reproduce (for the record, I managed 65 before requiring hospitalisation.) But perhaps more importantly: I am the oldest person alive, which means I am immortal indefinitely.
They say it's lonely at the top, but nobody realises how right they are. I have married five times. My previous four spouses all died of old age. They tried desperately to get records for something, anything that might let them spend a little more time in the human world, but none of them quite managed it. My current wife is eighty-six and, while I love her as much as the day I met her sixty years ago, she, too, will soon pass.
I stare out at the wide Martian sea. I am watching the waves lap against the rocky bottom of a cliff. I am standing on a railing. Hiro and Lucille might have tried to make shows of their deaths. But I won't. After five hundred years, you realise that all spectacle means nothing in the face of things.
I smile. I am stepping off the railing.
Record broken. | Mr. Modorra keeps searching for the most comfortable position after each question.
"Well, it's funny that you ask, and it is a funny story too. I do not remember how I got the idea, but somehow from the moment I got it I started thinking about the way I could turn the idea into a reality. I guess it is that way anybody tries to do a world record. From the olympians to the Guinness World Record holders. It was a long shot, but I thought since I had some knowledge in law and come from a family of charlatans, I still had a chance. Sure, you too remember how many people started speaking out against my record, saying 'it doesn't make sense, it is not a record just because you say it is a record' and what not, then many others rooting for me, maybe because I wasn't as athletic as all those immortals you see everywhere. And, you know, they wanted to see the underdog win for once. Since, you know, every athlete that is immortal keeps honing their skills, and honing their skills... They do not have anything else to do. And only the very best, the elite of the elite have a chance of beating the best... There is this guy on a threadmill, that keeps breaking his own record, just because he can't die, you know? It is bizarre, see... he wants the record because he wants to be immortal, but in order to be immortal he stays always on the threadmill, jogging, and has no life outside of the machine. What kind of life is that? Well, whatever. I'm derailing. Unlike the threadmill guy!" (he laughs) "Well, but those cases of record breakers using their received immortality to keep their record affloat ad-infinitum was the push I needed to be able to present my case. Now the rest is history: the referendum came through, and now I am the, as the record says, Oldest Tautologic Record Holder Alive: the man that for the longest time has the record of having a record claimed for having the longest time having it. 'It' being the record that I have. The record I claimed I had, I mean. Even though there are other record holders that have their record for longer than I have had mine, they have theirs for some other reason: for being fast, for being resistant, even for being old! But, you know, it's all in the wording. Nobody *claimed* having a record. I did."
I decided to end the interview right there. Or to call Guinness to give him another record for the most insufferable human being alive. | 2016-12-14T11:18:51 | 2016-12-14T11:18:50 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] The dead spinning in their graves is a real thing and now used to generate electricity. Your job is to come up with the best ideas to piss off the deceased in order to maximise energy production. | I'm the head of Post-Mortem Power Operations at Devil's Tower, Wyoming, and we have a problem: Our power output is steadily dropping-- we're just not pissing off enough dead people.
I'm currently in a board room with six subordinates, one of whom is monitoring D.P.O. percentages. D.P.O. means, "Dead Power Output", which is how we determine who's spinning in their graves, and who's not. If they're not, it's my team's job to come up with ideas on how to get them spinning again.
. . .
"All right, who stopped spinning? Our power output is down another ten percent."
"William Shakespeare, sir."
"Contact someone in Hollywood, and see about my script where I turn 'Macbeth', into a musical comedy using child actors. That should generate some juice."
"Sir, Mark Twain just stopped spinning."
"He did? I thought we'd have an endless source of power from that guy. Any ideas?"
"What did Mark Twain write, sir?"
". . . Okay, no ideas from that guy. Anyone else?"
"We could turn 'Huckleberry Finn', into a burlesque show?"
"Maybe market a set of exclusive 'Mark Twain' enema kits?"
"Whoa! We just got a three-percent power spike from Mark Twain!"
"You! Go ahead with that enema kit idea! We now have another three percent; now we just need to piss off one more dead person to get back up to minimal operating power."
"How's about Betty White memorial enema kits?"
". . . she's still alive, and moreover, we already used the enema kit idea. You didn't know about her and Mark Twain-- get out of this room. Now, you-- can we squeeze more juice out of Walt Disney?"
"Nope. He's been running at maximum capacity ever since 1984."
"Eisner?"
"Yep."
"President Ronald Reagan?"
"He's dead?"
". . . He's been dead for a while."
"Hmmm . . . you, start writing a fake tell-all book that Reagan and Russian Prime Minister Gorbachev were closeted homosexual lovers in a secret leather daddy gay sex brothel in Germany."
"WHOA! WE JUST GOT A TWENTY PERCENT POWER SPIKE FROM RONALD REAGAN!"
". . . All right, we run with the book. That should keep us going for at least another two years. How are our current numbers?"
"Thanks to Ronald Reagan, we're now **over** the minimum threshold by another fourteen percent."
"That's good for now. Have more ideas on standby for tomorrow, people."
"Sean Connery?"
". . . still not dead. And didn't I just tell you to leave the room?" | I stood in front of the mausoleum. It was a rainy day, but I knew that this would all be worth it in a few moments. All I had to was make the call. To begin the plan I had set in motion. All it took was a few dozen people to convince, and one key person. But first I had to say sorry. I had to apologize to the man who started it all.
I stepped through the gate first, my hands grazed the railing as I walked deeper into the mausoleum. So much history, so much that one man did, wrapped into a tight brick building with a generator, capable of capturing as much as energy as this single, grave could muster, was already ready. It had been a long road, not unlike the road we were about to venture on, but it would be worth it. Clean, renewable energy, so long as we could keep the charade up.
I stopped in front of the casket. My hands rested on the stone. It was ordinary, not ornate or anything regal. It was exactly like he would have wanted it to be. I loved him for that. I loved him for a lot of reasons. Many of which I were about to betray with the phone call I had to make. But he would understand. He would know what this would mean to *his* country.
I lifted my hand to the dial and sighed. "I'm sorry George," I said, "but in order to keep this country great, to keep this country sustainable and beautiful, and what *you* wanted it to be." I took a deep breath, "I have to do this."
I pressed dial and lifted the phone to my ear.
It rang once.
Then twice.
"Hello?"
"Donald?"
"Is it time?"
I smirked, as his campaign adviser, I made the final call on his announcement. My smirk turned into a smile and I lifted my hands off the grave. "It's time."
"It's gonna be yuge."
"Yes," I said as I felt the generator power up, "yes it is." | 2016-09-26T20:58:02 | 2016-09-26T17:13:16 | 275 | 31 |
[WP] Humans are known in the galaxy for being a bit dim, but also for being the very best mechanics around, and inexplicably able to fix machines beyond their comprehension. You have broken down on Earth, and having the apes work on your craft is both fascinating and terrifying. | It is said that on earth, when something breaks, everyone inexplicably becomes an expert.
Xlargok thought it was pure magic.
Just watching the creatures argue was a spectacle of its own, and Xlargok was glad he had brought his galacticom to translate it all.
"No, you gotta turn it *the other way*," a burly human was saying. "Here, give me the screwdriver-"
"I think it's not actually a screw," another human spoke up, eliciting deadpan stares from the other three humans. Perhaps, Xlargok considered, her mammary glands indicated a lack of the strange gift the other three humans seemed to possess.
"Naw, I reckon the crash must'a broken the glimmery bit loose, here, this part that's all beeping without sound somehow."
The burly man scratched his head, and gave the bit a *bang* with the screwdriver for good measure. Xlargok waved a tentacle in amazement. Somehow, the man had just banged on the hyperdrive *without blowing a good chunk out of their planet*. Truly amazing.
"So you were just driving by, eh, mister err...?" The third man held his thumbs underneath his suspenders and looked at the alien expectantly.
"**Xlargok**," Xlargok beamed the word into their minds using his mental gland.
"Right, right, xander. Fancy costume you got there. Don't worry, we'll fix up your car in no time."
"It's all the gadgets that he's put on it that's probably caused this in the first place," the burly man muttered, and the other two hummed their agreement.
"Isn't it that part there that looks even more odd than the rest?" The mammary human spoke up. "Honestly, I still think there's something very fishy about this whole-"
The other three shushed her. "Don't be rude now, Jane," the man with the suspenders said in a tone that Xlargok assumed entailed some local cultural significance.
The burly human turned to the lightspeed warp and gave it a good *bang*, and suddenly the control panel lit up again. Xlargok enthusiastically clapped his hands, all six of them.
"That did it," the man said triumphantly.
"Hey, you just hit the part that I told you was odd!" the mammary human said indignantly, but the other three ignored her.
"**Thank you, humans.**" Xlargok beamed at them, pleased with the adjustments. He got into the minimization room of his ship, kicking off the anti-gravity and soaring off.
The four humans stared at the sky for a while after he had disappeared, saying nothing.
"Strange fella," one of them concluded finally. "Must'a been from New York or sumthin'." | It took a few seconds for the speaker of the auto-translate to sputter to life.
"Just hit it a few times."
I asked the translator to repeat what the human had said.
"Just hit it a few times. Synonyms for 'hit' are strike, batter, impact."
Was the meat bag really asking me to physically injure the spacecraft in an attempt to make it functional? How could I even explain to the small brain that my species was non-corporeal, existing in a nether dimension where physical interaction with the craft wasn't even possible?
The human made more sound.
"Here, let me do it" the auto translator said.
Soon, the human was wriggling through the non-aqueous liquid shielding of the craft and entering the inner bio support unit. This was a grave violation of quarantine procedures.
More human sounds came from the earthling and before I could secure the very sensitive navigation crystals, he was striking the inner panels with his palm. I panicked, knowing that the slightest dislodging of the crystals would forever lose the plotting required to return to my home galaxy.
"See, you just gotta get it like this," the auto translator finally announced as the ape's hand repeatedly impacted the console. When nothing happened, he pulled out a long-handled device with steel at the end and started to strike more vigorously.
As is standard operating procedure, I charged the heat ray to neutralize the human's assault on the spacecraft. It was slow coming on line, though as the man with his primitive tool continued to hit the navigation panel and I saw my chances for returning to my far-off home slipping away.
Finally the heat ray was ready, but just before I was to discharge it on the man, the familiar hum of power cells came back. Soon, the bio chamber was bathed once again in its normal pink hue.
"See, that did it" the human said through the auto translator as he slipped through the non-aqueous liquid shielding back to the ground.
"Thank you!" I commanded the auto translator to say to the human as the now fully functional spacecraft rose off that horrible rock. | 2016-05-23T15:10:05 | 2016-05-23T14:13:43 | 334 | 78 |
[WP] "Wait, I'm still confused... if both of you are part of some hive mind, WHY would you need me for marriage counseling?" The young couple exchanged glances, before one of them spoke. "Because we're in two SEPARATE hive minds."
Edit: THANK YOU for all the upvotes!
Edit again: Holy cow I never thought I would get to the top of the Hot section! Thank you! | I knew they were mismatched as soon as the couple walked in. First off, they were Thoraxian. Thoraxians don’t do love. They do construction, and small-scale interplanetary genocide. Secondly, one was a queen and the other a worker. I could tell because the queen had a wider set carapace, longer antennas, and the worker was shorter and wingless. Also the queen wore a crown and the worker carried a shovel.
I wasn’t about to send them off, though. Thoraxian currency is king in the galactic empire. While not officially recognized by the Imperial Federation (on account of all their genocide), there are still many worlds that use the currency exclusively (on account of all their genocide).
“What can I do for you fine bug people?” I asked, hoping the answer didn’t involve murder. Too often, nowadays, the answer was murder.
“We are having marital problems,” the queen clicked back in her common tongue, which was translated by a device on my desk.
I sighed in relief. Marital problems I could deal with. Could I solve them? Probably not. But I could pretend to, and at the end of the day, isn't that what really matters (to me)? While I advertised my practice as distinctly interspecies friendly, the truth is I only really have experience with humans. Other species don’t really see the point in love or marriage or my very existence as a business enterprise. Other species would far rather mate and leave or, occasionally, mate, devour the head of their lover, then leave.
“Well I’m glad you came to me,” I said truthfully. “I can definitely help,” I lied.
“Good,” the queen clicked. “We are having trouble communicating.”
I frowned. “Aren’t you guys some sort of hive mind? Communication is the one thing you’re supposed to do well.”
“We are of different hives. Gortrad cannot speak to me.”
I nodded wisely and pretended to take notes. In reality, I can’t really read my own handwriting. Besides, I wouldn’t soon forget this. A queen of one hive mating with the worker of another? Absolutely scandalous. I had nothing to offer them. “Of course,” I mused. “Very typical problem I handle for your species all the time.”
The queens antennas wiggled wildly. “So we are not the first?” She asked excitedly.
“The first?" I scoffed. "Of course not. Your situation isn't scandalous at all. Let me tell you a little story about Martha and Thomas….” I proceeded to filibuster while I tried to think of something—anything—to tell them that might pass as advice worthy of payment. “...So you see, differences can be overcome, but only if you listen to me.” Nailed it.
“I do not understand how that is relevant to our situation. Martha and Thomas are humans.”
Very astute, bug queen. Very astute. Fortunately, all that filibustering had given me ideas.
“Then you missed the point of the story," I said trying to walk the fine line between condescension and wisdom. "You see, Martha and Thomas had problems *despite* their ability to communicate. Communication is *not* the answer,” I said, hoping the Thoraxians were unaware of my recent publications—*Communication Is The Answer No Matter What Anyone Says*; *How to Communicate Your Unfettered Jealousy While Maintaining The Moral High Ground*; and *Communicate, Dammit!*
“Then what is the answer?” the Queen asked.
“The answer is *love*. Love transcends communication.” I almost gagged on my own words. “Tell me, what is it you love about Gortrad?”
“He is strong,” the Queen said. “He is dutiful. His has a good shovel.”
Gortrad held his shovel in a manner that almost passed as prideful, and licked it.
“And Gortrad,” I said. “What is it *you* love about this beautiful, sensual, creepy crawly?”
Gortrad licked his shovel again.
“I can tell you two are set up for a beautiful relationship,” I said in a tone which I hoped conveyed adoration and not sarcasm. “That said, I think we’ll need regular sessions to come up with alternative communicative strategies. What do you say?”
The queen seemed to think for a moment. “No,” she said eventually. “I will kill his hive queen and subjugate her workers to my will. Could you help us with that?”
Dammit. Murder again. “Well, I’m not sure—”
“We will pay upfront for all sessions, at double your hourly rate.”
I blinked. “What I was going to say is I’m not sure you two will be able to pull it off without my help. Martha and Thomas sure couldn't. Let me tell you the second part to that story...”
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe | "Lately," I said, "whenever we're together, it feels like she's somewhere else. When we talk, it's like I don't know her anymore. Like the woman I loved has transformed into a stranger. A multitude of strangers, in fact. We used to be on the same page about everything. Our beliefs and values. Our goals in life. But ever since she switched to the OverMind, a rift has been forming between us, and it's growing wider every day. I fear if things go on like this much longer, that rift will become a chasm, and I won't be able to reach her anymore. She'll be too far away."
"We don't feel that way at all," she said. "We think you're overreacting completely. We're perfectly happy the way things are. We only wish you would assimilate, too, so we could be even closer. Why do you need to stick with the lousy LooseMind, when you could join the OverMind, hun? Why are you so obstinate? Don't you love us anymore?"
"Do you see what I mean?" I asked the counsellor. "Any time I try to talk about myself, or about us, or about anything, she always finds a way to turn it into a conversation about why I need to be assimilated into this newfangled collective intelligence."
"But the question remains," said the counsellor. "Why *do* you fear the OverMind so much? Could we explore that a bit?"
"It's not that I fear it, *per se*," I replied. "I just. . .look. When the LooseMind first came on the scene, I was among the first people to willingly assimilate. I was thrilled by the prospect of having a loose mental connection to hundreds, thousands, millions of other men and women. But *loose* is the operative word! Connection is great. It's fantastic! But I still think it's important to maintain some semblance of individuality."
"Semblance is what it is," said my wife. "The individual self is an illusion, dear. In truth, there is only one mind. When will you face that fact? When will you give up on your antiquated notions and ideas? When will you embrace the inevitable and join the OverMind?"
"They make a number of solid points," the counsellor admitted. "Have you considered seeing things from their perspective?"
"Great," I said, throwing my hands up. "So you're on her side. You're taking her side."
"It's not about sides," said the counsellor. "It's about being receptive to truth and reason. You have tenuous mental connections with a handful of hold-outs. Connections which, from the sounds of it, you purposely repress when thinking about issues you regard as "personal". You're a single man, alone on an island, trying to reason through things by yourself, from scratch. Your wife, meanwhile, is reasoning with the collective mental power of billions of minds at once. Those minds are thinking with her, through her. It only makes sense that they are seeing things more clearly."
"Your judgement is clouded by ego," explained my wife. "Your thoughts are driven by personal emotions and desires. Our judgement is free of such encumbrances. We are one with the all. We are the hive."
She got up and walked over to our counsellor. She smiled at him and took his hand. It made me sick to see them interlock fingers and smile at me with the same eerie, emotionless smiles.
"Join us, dear," said my wife. "Join the OverMind."
"Tighten up those loose connections, hun," said the counsellor, stroking my wife's thumb. "Leave the individual self behind. Dispense with your selfish strivings. . ."
"For love," said my wife.
"And purpose," said the counsellor.
"And personality," said my wife. "Join us. All of us. Be together with us in perfect unity."
The door to the room opened and the janitor walked in.
"Join us," the janitor said. "Be not afraid of making the leap."
"Join us," said the little girl, poking her head out from under the janitor's arm. "We want to show you true connection, and serenity."
"Join us!" chanted the crowd, which had suddenly massed outside the window. "Join us! Join us!"
"Honey," said my wife, still holding our counsellor's hand. "Pretty please?"
\- - -
Join us over at my sub for more stories/novellas! Seriously. . .join us.
r/CLBHos | 2021-04-24T08:25:48 | 2021-04-24T06:55:46 | 1,646 | 425 |
[WP] Tell me the story of how the world ends - but told entirely in Craigslist ads | **April 29, 2015**
M, 51, Atlanta - I'm a virologist at the CDC, and my job makes is hard to meet people, as I work long hours. Hoping to find someone here to share quiet weekends with, maybe more. Please reply to this ad if interested -- Frank
**May 5, 2015**
ATTN: Frank the Scientist
Frank, I feel really stupid that I didn't get your phone number. I had so much fun on our date! My son Joey also really likes you. You left your jacket at my apartment. Joey has been playing "scientist" with those little test tubes he found in your jacket, I hope that's ok. Please reply if you read this! -- Kate
**May 25, 2015**
WANTED: Homeopathic Specialist
My son Joey has come down with some kind of flu. He is tired and he has some sort of hives. Looking for a Homeopathic or Herbal specialist who can help. NO VACCINES. Please reply to this ad if you can help -- Kate
**June 1, 2015**
FOR SALE: Boy's bedroom furniture suite & toys
$250 for everything. Just want to get rid of it. Everything has been thoroughly cleaned and sterilized. Respond if interested -- Kate
| In search for survivers In the greater New York area, hell anywhere really. I am, well I was a sandhog and was underground working on the new water way in Manhatten when the Russians dropped the bomb. Never have I emerged from underground to such horror. Everything in ruins and no one in sight. I walked around for a bit shouting for someone to show themselves. I realized that there was probably a lot of radiation in the area seeing the amount of damage done, so I thought it best to head back underground. I have about a months worth of rations down here as it is protocol incase of a cave in.Please someone be out there and respond to this post. It's so lonely.
| 2015-04-29T09:53:01 | 2015-04-29T07:28:18 | 450 | 10 |
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