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[WP] You're a multi billionaire with severe god delusions. You have several small children kidnapped and leave them on an island with resources and carefully placed 'evidence' suggesting at your divinity. Ten years later, you arrive at the island...
Edit: Sweet, frontpage | I am a God. This is not a delusion or a fantasy. It is a reality, carefully constructed and executed. The children left on the island a decade ago had created a society through hard work and impressive feats of engineering before I began to leave signs of my presence. They knew of me, but they didn't know they knew. I left carvings on trees and on rocks and on the sand; images in my likeness so that they could build sanctuaries and pray to me. And pray they did. In spite of never giving them a helping hand, they blindly believed.
I couldn't complain. This was, after all, the plan. I was present enough that denial was not an option, yet absent enough to remain mysterious and divine. I inserted myself into their daily lives, throwing bombs at them to cause mysterious explosions or infecting their water or causing tidal waves. And each time, they believed they had sinned and begged for forgiveness. Never helping, but always able to help. I was a God.
But they began to wander in their faiths. Some prayed to the me they saw in the trees and others prayed to the me they saw in the rocks and others prayed to the me they saw in the sand. And they began to quarrel about the real me, about the one true God. I did my best to convince them from afar that such quarrels were foolish and that they were wasting precious lives and resources, gifted by their God, but they continued to fight. Their beliefs were identical, but they gave me different names and prayed to me in different ways, and to their simple minds, such differences were unacceptable. They could each coexist in peace, accepting their different beliefs, or they could all believe in one version of me. It ultimately didn't matter, but they fought.
And oh, how they fought. They launched religious crusades, crossing the island to murder their former brothers in cold blood, not realizing that killing was a sin in each of their religions. They cursed and bathed in evil, not realizing that all of them were sinning. And in spite of having carefully allowed a culture to develop, and having so many followers, I found they used their intelligence for evil and nothing else, and spent more time killing than praying, and more time conniving than progressing.
And as I stepped foot on the island, ten years after they began to believe in me, there was nobody left. They had killed each other off, each killing in my name. And I should still be a God, but a God with no followers is powerless. It is a reality, not a fantasy or a delusion, and now I have nothing, and a god without anybody left to believe is a god no more. | I step off from the boat onto the dock, confused as to why there was nobody here to greet me. I am God, after all. They should be happy to see me. They should be showering me with gifts. Where the fuck are they?
I walk along the dock and up the hill towards where I expect to see a settlement. That's where I put ten years' worth of supplies, anyway. That's where I would've set up camp.
Instead of huts and people, I just see containers scattered everywhere. That's weird. Most of them aren't open. Did they set up somewhere else and not end up needing these supplies? These kids are a lot more resourceful than I thought. They might be rationing these. Yeah, that's gotta be it.
I round the corner of a stack of containers, and that's when I see it. There's a skeleton clutching a long sharpened stick wedged between two ribs. Well, that sucks. Maybe he was hogging the supplies. If one of them wasn't around to use up supplies, that might explain why there are unopened containers.
I wander off towards where I vaguely remember there being a clean water source. That's the next logical place to have built a settlement. That's when I notice a few more skeletons, but with several more spears jutting out from their abdomens. This makes 4 dead. There should still be a few more. I start to feel uneasy.
I continue walking towards the stream, but I am stopped short by a spectacle of several skeletons hanging from the trees. Those ropes were supposed to be for making shelter or making tools or whatever! This is fucked. That's gotta be every last one of them. I don't even want to bother counting them.
I start making the walk back to the dock. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to put a bunch of kids on an island unsupervised. | 2015-11-27T07:49:02 | 2015-11-27T07:33:11 | 160 | 44 |
[WP] For thousands of years, humans have been household pets to aliens. You, a pet human, were just abandoned on a strange planet called Earth, in the 21st century. | There was an accident. The ship burned. The sirens were so loud, so terribly loud. I knew what to do. Wait in the escape pod. Until someone comes. Or until the automatic security protocol warps the pod to the closest survivable world. I waited for so long. I wasn't allowed to leave, but they didn't come. Sometimes I thought I heard them scream. But I tried to ignore it. I tried not to hear it. I tried not to think about it. It took hours, but the emergency pod automatically discharged, and warped to a world.
It was full of people like me. They were confused at first, but then very friendly. Especially when I explained my situation. They took me to a comfortable cell. They wanted to know all about my owner, the history of pet humans, and about the escape pod. Silly humans, they have owners who must have told them this, but I decided to be nice, and telling them all about how humans get operated on as infants to remove aggression, all about the uses of human pets as long term companions, how we were all taken from a world where we would never be useful to our masters, and made better.
They were quite excited by that. Perhaps they feared that I was one of the rare humans who regrow that removed part of the brain, who goes feral with rage. Clearly though, I am still obedient and very nice. So they asked me about my owner, the chief engineer on the ship, oh how I miss them. They asked about the engines, and as a working pet, I told them I could build them some FTL engines in my sleep. They didn't believe me, but even though they gave me some very primitive tools, I sure showed them.
They were very impressed. And they told me to make more, that their owners had lost their engineers so none of them could build new FTL engines. Shame about it, I thought, but I just made more engines for them. They were very happy, and asked me to teach some of them. I was a bit apprehensive at first, after all, it's not really allowed, but as it was an emergency situation clearly, I figured I could circumvent the normal rules.
They told me those I would teach would go to good engineer homes, once they got in contact with the rest of the Galaxy. It made me happy, I was always told I was a useful and good pet. Still, it was odd that I never met their owners. Perhaps they were very protective, fearing that my good qualities would make them seem superfluous in the eyes of their owners.
Soon they told me that they had gotten into contact with the family of my owners, who had sadly revealed that my owner had died. They were sending over my mate and my children to me, because they wanted us to be together, which was remarkably nice of them. I always thought I had the best family of owners, most owners just disintegrate unwanted humans, or eat them. So nice of them to send my family to live with me here on this world with these somewhat peculiar humans.
They kept talking about how they were destroying the enslavers, or how they were leading the liberation of the Galaxy. Some impressive owners they must have, I thought. They also told me that they had been told by their owners, that my family and I had gotten sick without us noticing, and were getting an operation to make us better. They called it a neuro-regenerative brain treatment. Sounded fancy. Said it would make me and my family much, much better. I certainly am looking forward to that.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
''This is rain?'' I ask.
She looks at me confused, ''I think I know where you are from.'' She smiles.
''I can show...''
''No, I want to guess.'' She interrupts and she looks at her hand device. She drags her finger on it and then she shows me a picture.
''This doesn’t look like my home.'' I say.
''I’m sure you are from somewhere south-east. Your accent sounds very different, I assume you’ve changed a lot of places when you were a kid.''
I see a very bright light in the sky. I walk towards it but it disappears quickly, ''I think they are back.''
''Who is back?'' She asks and she pulls me back, ''You’ll get wet, don’t go just yet.''
''Is this rain dangerous?'' I ask.
She starts to laugh, ''If you want to go somewhere I have a car. I can drive you there.''
''You can bring me home?'' I ask.
''Yes! I mean if it’s not that far. I can’t drive you across the country. You know.''
We are inside the car and we have been moving on the ground for a while now.
''When we are going to take off?'' I ask.
''Take off? You want to go to the airport?'' She asks.
''If that’s the place that can take me home, yes.'' I say.
She looks at me she touches my forehead while her other hand on the wheel. ''What are you doing?'' I ask.
''You are warm.'' She says.
She stops the car and she gets out of the car. I get out of the car as well. ''Where are we?'' I ask.
''I just texted my friend. He will help you. Are you feeling okay?'' She asks.
''I think I do.'' I say.
''You just wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.'' She says and she walks away.
I hear other people passing by and one of them using the same device she had to scan me. ''What are you doing?'' I ask him.
''Get the fuck away from me!'' He starts to yell.
''Why are you scanning me?'' I ask.
''I told you to get the fuck away from me!'' He pushes me and I drop to the ground.
I lose my vision for a moment and then I hear someone screaming. It’s her. She is calling for help. I get up I run towards her but she runs away from me. I stop and I try to understand what is happening and I notice all the people around me looking at me and some of them scanning me with their devices. I see my reflection on the puddle of liquid. My face is reacting to the rain. My skin is changing...
-----------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story-
*Just FYI, I'm not a native speaker so, if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes please don't mind it.* | 2020-04-15T16:54:58 | 2020-04-15T15:35:27 | 177 | 35 |
[WP] You are an average Joe who is challenged by a random super hero every week. Your record is 337-0. | I look down at my watch. It's 7:00 P.M, which means the sun is finally set and night has begun. It’s also Thursday, which means that any minute…
Yup. There’s a knock on my door. I laugh to myself. Usually, they just crash through the window or walls, which means I always have a carpenter come in on Friday. A knock was pretty polite.
I walk over to the door, open it, and see some sort of b-list Superhero standing there. All the really weak ones from the Super Nation had come first, and I beat them easily. Then they got worried, sent in the top guns, and I beat them too. They were just sending anyone they had at this point.
This guy’s cocky, I can feel it. He has this black leather suit, a red D in the middle of it. He has on a standard leather mask and hood, trying to be intimidating in anyway he can.
“Michael Mac,” he says, “ you are needed at the Super Nation. This is your only chance for you to peacefully comply”
I lean up against the wall, not worried at all.
“I’m sorry, but who are you?” I ask him.
He’s surprised by how laid back I am. The other heroes obviously haven’t told him much about me.
“I am Discard!”
“Never heard of ya. You know, if White Matter or Earth can’t take me, what makes you think you can?”
“Because they can’t erase things!”Discard takes down his hood, and red energy starts to stream from his face and body, swirling all around him. As it touches my walls, the paint starts to peel.
“Great,” I mumbled to myself, “now I have to get a painter in here too.”
“Don’t worry,” Discard smirked. “You’ll be in jail before you can do that.” He charges at me, his red energy streaming behind him. I didn’t move, simply stayed there. He plummets into me, and we both fall onto the ground.
He wasn’t expecting me to do nothing, and doesn’t know what to do now. I do. I grab the chair next to me, a solid metal one, and pull the leg so it falls on top of him. Startled, he turns around and I push him off of me. I look down, and see my plaid shirt is all white. Other than that, I'm fine.
“Ah, come on dude. You’ve got the lamest powers ever.”
He starts to get up, but I swing the chair and hit him in the head. He doesn’t have super strength, and gets knocked out pretty easily. That chair alone has taken down 130 heroes. “Alright. Let’s go.”
I grab his arm and drag him out my door, throwing him on my lawn. Then I pull out my cell phone and call the person who sent him.
She picks up.
“Discard, did you get him?”
“No, Mom. He did not get me.”
“God damnit! You know, you could just come and visit me every now and then. I wouldn’t have to come and send my hero friends to come and get you.”
“Try and get me,” I corrected her. “338 times now and they haven’t gotten me once. Because no matter what, I’m not coming to see you.”
“You know, just cause your ex was a super villain and I killed her…”
“Yes, it does mean I can’t visit you. She didn’t need to die. Now just send someone to pick up Discard.”
“Fine. Goodnight, Michael. I love you.”
“Bye, Mom.” I’m about to hand up, then I remember I have something to tell her. “Wait, actually, one more thing.”
“What is it?!” I can feel the excitement in her voice.
“Can I borrow some money? I’m behind on rent.”
| The phone is ringing. The phone is always ringing. The phone is halfway across the apartment in the kitchen and this will just be one more unanswered call and another voicemail filling up the inbox.
A grunt effectively mutes the phone. There’s always a grunt when I’m moving now. I was told there’s something seriously wrong with my lower back, but I have no idea what. The pain just blended in with everything else after the first month or two. My agent had me go see a doctor about it but after that fight with Banshee, Lord knows my hearing isn’t right. I just smiled and nodded during his explanation and took the prescription.
The freezer is like Mecca and I’m ready for my pilgrimage there. One small step and my knee buckles again. It’s been a six months since my second knee surgery, it felt better for a few weeks and for a few fights but now it’s slipping again. The freezer door opens the blasting cold tickles the bruises on my face reminding me of the soft hands on my face during kisses with my high school girlfriend. That memory is snapped out and the memory of Iceman’s left hook almost snapping my jaw comes in.
I grab a few ice packs and a handful of ice then close the freezer.
Now that the ice sits in the glass, there’s so many options of whiskey to choose from on the counter. It seems like every fan meets me and gives me a bottle for every autograph or selfie. They aren’t always the best whiskeys but they always help with the pain.
It wasn’t long after my 130th fight that all the websites were saying that I couldn’t beat flyers. They said I picked my opponents and that my weakness was people with wings. I never backed down from a fight, who were they speaking about? I called them all out after I smashed Donatello’s shell. They started to line up for the paychecks, pride, or just the chance to brag to their friends that I beat them.
My hands have never been the same since. Every single one of them were choked out with a modified X choke. I’d grab the bottom of their wings and wrap it over the opposite shoulder, passing it off to my left hand. My right arm would then go over their head and put my elbow on their ear forcing their neck further into my left wrist. My right hand would grab that same wing I pulled over and I’d slowly bring my elbows to my ribs until they passed out. Imagine the damage all those grips do to your hands. Especially Archangel. God damn, Warren’s wings. It makes squeezing opening this bottle of Rye annoying and my knuckles all crack. I don’t even put the caps back on the hydrocodone bottles anymore.
The phone starts ringing again. This time, I’m in front of it. Little white pills fly all over the place as I pick up the bottle and bring it to my ear yelling, “HELLO!” I realize my mistake and pick a few off the floor and pop them in my mouth. I wash it down with some of the whiskey I just poured. I pick up the actual phone, swipe my agent’s face to the right and answer, “Yeah, I’ll take the fight.”
| 2016-11-19T18:53:52 | 2016-11-19T16:24:17 | 103 | 38 |
[WP] The homeless man being harassed by police for sleeping at an historical site is actually the god the site was originally built for. | The man chuckled as he saw the police officer approaching him.
"Sir, we are going to have to ask you to leave, this site is not currently open to the public."
The man stared up at the officer with eyes that seemed to have seen more than any human could comprehend.
"My child, what makes you think I am a member of the public."
The officer shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, I really am going to have to ask you to leave or I'm afraid you will be removed by force."
The man stood up, then, and gestured to the area around him.
"It was flattering, really, when they built this for me. Barely even able to talk, and yet they went to almost unimaginable lengths to pay their respects. It was a nice gesture, but not really appreciated as much as they had hoped. It gets lonely, you know. Watching the birth of galaxies, of civilizations, the greatest and worst the universe can offer, and knowing you can never be part of it, never walk among the people as an equal rather than a deity. This kind of thing serves as a reminder of that, almost."
The officer struggled to remain calm. This man was clearly raving, probably on some sort of drugs. This was meant to be a simple "Get the hobo away from the important historical site" job, nice quick and easy. This would make it a lot more complicated.
"Sir, who exactly do you think you are?"
The man turned from his view of the ancient stone pillars to look at the officers.
"I have gone by innumerable names over the years, child. Yahweh, Allah, God. Some, like the people who built this place, knew me as many different people, each a different aspect of what I represent. And of course, over time, my messages have been twisted and distorted to better serve the views and purposes of those who spread them. So sad that something intended to spread peace and love has caused so much suffering and hatred, but it is not my place to interfere."
The officers' were beyond confused by this point. The man wasn't gibbering or ranting, no, he was perfectly composed, carrying himself with an air of undeniable authority.
"Why not? If you really are god, what right do you have to stand by and watch as people die, and hurt, and lose what they love?"
"What would you be, if you had everything you wanted? Every last thing exactly perfect, with no room for improvement, from the day you were born? You would be one of millions of identical people who had never grown, never felt anything beyond arbitrary happiness. For your life to mean anything, you have to live it yourselves. I may guide you along your path, but, ultimately, everything is up to you. It is... regrettable, that so many bad decisions have been made, but those mistakes will become irrelevant in the next life."
The man turned once more, and spoke with an air of finality. "This universe is broken. The war I fought with the one you know as Lucifer made sure of that, but in the next, my creation will finally be complete, and I will walk, at last, amongst equals. But don't for one moment think that what you do in this life won't count in the next. It would be useful for you to remember that at, oh, I think, sometime within the week."
He turned one last time to the stone pillars.
"Beautiful place, Stonehenge. If only you knew how much was lost making it... the only thing of real value is human sacrifice, whether it be of strength or time or something more." Then he was gone, without a flash, or a pop, or any indication that he had been there at all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The moment couldn't get any more surreal, the man thought, as he stood on the podium, staring at the crowd before him.
"You are awarded this medal for bravery, for the act of risking your own life to protect the life of another."
The moment his feet had left the ground, moments before the shot had been fired, he realized what he was doing was insane.
"Your actions were selfless and honourable, and for that, the forces are exceedingly grateful."
He had barely known the officer he had been partnered with, on that case gone horribly awry, and yet when it became clear that the other man was going to be shot at, he had jumped in front of him. After all, the other man was much younger, showed much more potential, while he? Well, he was nearing retirement.
Something caught his eye, at the back of the room, and standing there was the man. God. He gave a single, short nod, and then he was gone. | Rough fingers brushed weathered stone, carefully feeling out each time-earned bump and mound. He could still feel each etched rune… or, at least, he *remembered* feeling them. They were gone now, long gone… too gone. The man’s once-proud visage drew close together in a frown. How long had he slept? They had promised sacrifices after his deep sleep, as had been prophesized by the far-seer, but no there was no one in sight. No priest holding glinting knives, no blood-letters trailing behind with downcast faces. No wide-eyed children, no mothers holding them by their shoulders to keep them in line.
Instead, there were two strange men approaching with poor intentions.
One yelled out something foreign, and the old man turned, long beard trailing the ground. One man’s rotund face heavily scowled as he waddled forward, belly swaying with his steps, while the other had a haughty look pasted on, despite the fact that he was skinnier than most sacrifices. The round one gestured wildly as the old man showed no signs of moving. Was he asking him to move? But why should he? This was his home, his monument. It belonged to him. How did they not know this? Were they heathens?
The old man’s face wrinkled even further as the thought passed his mind. How dare they approach him, unfaithful as they clearly were? He ought to smite them where they stood. He rose one arm towards the defiers, three fingers held up in a sign of doom.
But nothing happened.
It did get a reaction from the heathens, however. The large one snatched a dark object from his waist and pointed it at the old man with confused eyes, while the small man stepped back and behind the other one.
The old man only paid these events cursory attention. There was only one reason that he would be unable to call forth any of the elements, a reason he had heard of from his ancestors.
He was fading.
It had happened to other gods when hey were forgotten, supposedly. But the old man had never thought that it would happen to him. He was the leader, the most prominent figure, the True-Father. How would it happen to him?
He had the answer right in front of him, of course. He had been forgotten, and was now being threatened by people who would not even whet his appetite as sacrifices.
He lowered his arm, and turned away from the lesser men. The prophecy hadn’t come true, just as people had whispered in the darkness back in his heyday. But while he had lost his authority, he had not lost his dignity. He would *never* lose his dignity.
So it was with a straight back that the old man walked away, disregarding the vaguely frightened and confused shouts from the loud man behind him. He turned behind the remnants of an old pillar, what used to be a truly magnificent sight, and raised his arms up. And for a moment, he remembered what it had felt like to ride on the breeze, before the gentle gusts took him to the Beyond.
——————————————————
“No one can just disappear, y’ know,” John muttered as he slammed the door of the yellow-and-blue checkered car. “He’s still out there.”
Richard grunted, barely shoving his stomach into the small police car. “Sure, but whatever, just let him sleep there. We’ll find him tomorrow, it’s not that big a deal.”
“You just want to leave now to get to a café.”
“No shit.”
John snorted as he started the engine, and the car pulled out of the lot, gravel crunching under the tires.
The two sat in silence for a while longer. But just as they reached the highway, John spoke.
“But seriously, who the hell falls asleep at *stonehenge*?” | 2014-08-28T08:15:39 | 2014-08-28T08:06:31 | 65 | 43 |
[WP] You die and go to hell. There you are greeted by 3 demons. They ask you which one of them do you want to torture you for the rest of eternity. Feeling regret for your sin you pick the scariest one but he decides not to torture you because no one have ever picked him before. | I regretted it as soon as I said it.
"Number two."
Demon number two was by far the most terrifying of the three.
"I deserve this," I told myself. "I hit a man with my car. I didn't even stop to see if he needed help."
Demon number two had a jagged gash for a mouth that curled into a sinister grin. He cackled, and everything around the demon and me disintegrated.
The room formed into a dark chamber. The temperature rose rapidly, and any light that had been in the room quickly vanished.
I was in complete darkness.
"You... picked me," the demon hissed. "Why?"
I stood there, not knowing what to say. "I-I don't know."
"Nobody has ever picked me before." Two glowing green eyes opened in front of me and slowly crept closer. "You're the first. Ever."
I tried to step backwards, but I realized my feet were stuck in the concrete floor.
"I'm not going to torture you," the eyes told me. Light slowly seeped into the room, and I caught a glimpse of long, ragged talons reaching toward me. They closed around my hand. "I'm going to reward you."
The room melted away to reveal a beautiful, terrifying landscape.
The ground was made of black sand, like a beach in Hawaii I read about in high school. The sky was a brilliant blue and the clouds were a deep grey. To my left was a large, towering mountain, and to my right, in a crowd, were the residents of Hell. Cheering. Screaming.
"This is your kingdom now," the demon told me.
"What... what about the devil? Doesn't he run this?"
The demon smiled. "Not anymore, I don't." He fell into a heap of ashes.
As I turned to greet the citizens of my new empire, I felt myself grow. My ears expanded into long, sharp horns. My teeth elongated into fangs. My cheeks rose, my chin lengthened. My hands transformed into powerful claws, worthy of crushing anything they pleased. My skin molted into dark, glittering scales. I glanced at my reflection in the sheer rock beside me, and for a moment, I was terrified.
The screams in the crowd grew louder as I mounted myself on the pedestal in front of them.
A long, hooked staff materialized in my claw, and an ebony cape fell across my shoulders.
I looked out at the millions of faces that greeted me.
I smiled.
"This is my kingdom now." | “You,” Lora said. “I want you to torture me.”
That was not a sentence she expected herself to say, ever. But, given the circumstances, she had no choice.
The demon was taken aback. “Why I—I didn’t expect this!” he said. “Very well, I will ensure that you’ll suffer for a long time.”
The other two demons shrugged in disappointment and vanished, leaving ashes behind. The demon led Lora to a separate room with chains, a table, and tools. Lora looked at the chains, sweat dripping down her forehead. Her hands were shaking.
She had sinned. She killed someone - her husband - in her previous life, and she wanted to suffer for that.
But now she wasn’t so sure.
“You can calm down now,” the demon said.
Lora turned to him. “What?”
“I’m not torturing you.”
“But—I sinned-”
“Eh, yeah. You did. Killed your husband because he was a cheater. I get that. But I ain’t torturing you because of that.”
“Then why?”
“I’m ain’t torturing you because no one’s ever picked me before,” he said. “I mean, look at me!”
The demon had large horns; they were larger than the ones on the other two demons Lora saw earlier. His eyes were red and glowed in the dark room. He was muscular, tall, looked like he could snap someone in two.
“I do wanna know something,” the demon said. “Why me? You could’ve chosen the others.”
“Because, you looked like you’d do a number on me,” Lora said.
The demon grinned. “Trust me, I’m not doing anything to ya while you’re here. But I will keep you safe.”
“Really?”
“It’s kind of against the rules, but whatever. Not like I’m breaking one already.” | 2017-07-29T21:55:41 | 2017-07-29T19:14:37 | 368 | 80 |
[WP] You were cursed with good luck by a supernatural entity, something you were very confused by at first. Now a few week later you know exactly what that means | **0**
“…Good luck?” you ask.
Tyche offered me a smile. “That’s right…mortal,” she said and broke into titters of laughter. Which was rather disturbing coming from a god, all things considered.
“And this is your curse on me? For…counting cards at your casino?” How did the Bellagio even hire a Greek Goddess?
“For violating luck, mortal,” she said. “You don’t like luck? Fine, you shall be cursed with perfect luck.”
“So be it,” you say. This was probably a fever dream anyways.
All went white.
**3 Years Later**
I woke again in that same place, with grand pillars as far as they eye can see. A floor spotless enough to see my own reflection. And of course *she* is there. Tyche. Long golden hair cascading down in curls to her shoulders, a flowing white dress, and a crown made from playing cards.
“Have you been enjoying your luck?” she asks.
You blink, stunned for a moment before stammering a response. “I mean…sure?” you say. “I haven’t noticed any difference?”
“Oh you will,” Tyche says. And the scene slips away.
**300 years Later**
You thought you were crazy. You almost cry when you find yourself in the pantheon again. When she appears, you go to grab her, shake her, do *something,* but before you can even touch her she’s moved 10 feet away. She is laughing.
“What have you done to me?” you say.
“I have, ah, blessed you with perfect luck. Not good, not bad, but perfect,” Tyche says.
“Oh, yes, that is a very valid explanation for how I haven’t aged in 300 years,” you shoot back.
“Luck is just the amount of randomness in a system,” Tyche says. “I believe you call it entropy. And I have just reduced the entropy in a particularly small and insignificant system,” – you, with your extremely deductive reasoning skills infer that she’s talking about you – “to zero. Your genetic material will not decay. Your cells will copy perfectly. You can’t even get cancer.”
“I’m immortal,” you breathe, just as everything goes white again.
**30000 Years Later**
You beg her to take away her curse. The Bellagio hasn’t even existed in millenia!
She says all curses are final.
**3000000 Years Later**
You ask what happened to the other gods.
“Faded,” she says with a shrug. “As much as we despise them, we rely on mortals. Their belief, their importance. Humans don’t think much of the ocean when they throw garbage in it. Don’t think much of lightning when they think of it as static electricity. They understand it, so they don’t pay it much mind.”
“Not luck though,” you say.
Tyche smiles. “Not luck.”
**300000000 Years Later**
You have the pattern figured out by now. You’ve forgotten a lot, but some things you just can’t forget.
Things are different this time. The pillars are crumbled, Tyche’s hair is uncombed and her dress has grime.
“You look great,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm.
Tyche’s eyes narrow. “It was…inevitable, I suppose.”
“Not many humans around anymore but me,” you say. You still can’t believe you’d survived an anti-matter bomb.
“Well then good thing you’re here,” Tyche says.
You wait for it all to fade to white, but it doesn’t. You look at her with your head cocked.
“Just…just stay a while will you?” she asks. As you watch a strand of hair falls to the cracked floor.
You don’t really have much of a choice. | a was walkin down the street in Belfast one day so a was and then a got struck by lightnin and a was like this here, what the fuck mate? the fuck was that? a lucked around me an couldnt see anythin and i wasnt even sore so a was like this here, ah fuck sake you're goin mental Dean, too many bowls last night so anyway
listen a was walkin on home and thinkin nothin of it like, you know? a was thinkin, fuck that was mad like, but nothin else. a was still a wee bit baked from smokin them bowls earlier, but a generally didnt think anythin of it ya know? a was like this, here, wait til davey hears about this, he'll think it's a geg
so instead of goin home like a thought first of all, a decided to go to daveys house, it was a bit out of the way but fuck it, he has to hear about this like doesnt he?
Roll up to daveys place and look through the windy and oh may god he's ridin his girl in the livinroom right thur. a can't fuckin believe may eyes, oh may god am thinkin. look at him, he's just buckin er right thur. a can see his arse just goin up and down and shes like this uhhh uhhhh uhhhh ohhh fuck davey davey uhhh like that thur, fuckin nuts like?
so a bang on the front door like this, here davey! ano youre gettin your hole but ya need to hear this here davey bang bang bang davey!
so davey opens the door and a walk on in and his girls run out the room buck naked, a seen her arse and everything shes hot as fuck yano? and a says here davey i fuckin got hit by lightnin down on dee street thur - and he's like aye yer ballix mate and a says swear to fuck mate
and he goes, so wheres the fuckin.. u know? the fuckin.. marks on ye? injuries and all that shite? and i was like, nah mate, dont have any. and he's like aye you're a fuckin balloon, away on ya melter ye.
Decided to stay in daveys house for a couple weeks cause a just got ma giro in so a was sweet like, and may ma's always like this here, Dean fer fucks sake are you not gonna get a fuckin job like, theyre hiring down in the westburn again but a cant be fuckt with that like
anyway a went home after a couple weeks and guess wat? my house got fuckin burgled and someone fuckin shat muhmum and muhdad, thur they were lyin thur dead fuck sake? see if i hadnt have been hit by fuckin that lightnin thing, i'd be dead too... fuck that like! no what a mean?
so thats may story thur like, so that's that, fuckin nuts like isnt it? | 2020-10-15T05:06:14 | 2020-10-15T04:41:29 | 1,837 | 62 |
[WP] Your bedroom became detached from reality and nothing is outside your door, but whenever you load a video game that world appears. Your game library is not conducive to a long and happy life, but the mini fridge is empty so you have no choice. You load up the safest game and gather supplies. | It took some time to get used to, the concept of being trapped in what could be a game server.
I didn't have visible health bars while in my room or inventory management but I wasn't invincible; if you cut me I still bleed.
But as fun as racing games were, solving puzzles and rhythm games I still had to eat.
So I took a shower to feel good before strapping a backpack on, loaded up my survival game and cautiously opened my door; the last safe space I have in this void.
I stepped out onto a cobblestone path, looked up at the clouds and the sun behind them. I do miss the real sun, this one is so manufactured it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth every time I stepped out. Still, the food was amazing and easy to get.
I walked forward and opened my trusty chest, quickly equipping my enchanted armour and tools; learned pretty quickly that items despawn when in the safety of my room and the game exists. Lucky this was was easy to run, I did play it many years before my... "event".
Safety and weapons sorted I looked at the fields of melons, potato, wheat, carrots, I even picked up the taste for beetroot.
Thanks to redstone I flipped a switch and auto harvested (almost) everything using water, ran to collect and spent a few moments replanting it all. I'm so glad that everything here takes as little effort as the computer version, I would never have the energy to jump these cubes all day.
By now the sound of my cow farm was driving me nuts so culling the herd and feeding them wheat I then set off; if I wanted a snack I'll need cocoa beans and I haven't found any yet. Consumed by cookie cravings I nearly missed seeing the sun about to set, and at the edge of the forest I turned around as I decided that I can wait another day. | "Damn... If I go into Minecraft, I may be taking by a zombie. Pokemon won't work, nor Gacha Club. I'm sure as hell I'm not going into Cube Escape. Flappy Dragon won't do me much... That just leaves me with Obey Me.. Not the best option, but between zombies, creepers, and gaint ass spiders, I'm willing to take the risk of demons."
I load up the game and waited. I was unsure on how it will play out, but then, right outside my door, Simon was standing there. I click on the Tasks app of the game in hopes to start a the storyline from the very beginning. It worked to my surprise. I walk through the door and went with the storyline.
It was finally midnight and I know Beel wasn't in the kitchen. I snuck out and grabbed only small things that didn't seem to cost much. I get back to my room and went to the closet door and opened it. Just as I imagined, my real bedroom was right behind it. I walk through the door right before Lucifer comes into my other room. I close the door and exit the game on my phone. | 2022-06-07T23:03:00 | 2022-06-07T19:11:01 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] You drunkenly email the UN telling the countries they are doing a shit job of running the world. A month later an official UN letter arrives, signed by all the world leaders. "Let's see if you do better then" | "So let me get this straight," I said. "You get some drunken e-mail-"
"It wasn't just *some* drunken e-mail," the Secretary-General immediately interrupted. "It was a profanity-laced drunken e-mail, filled with insults of my mother, the members' mothers, and translated. Not very well, granted, pretty sure it was a Google Translate job, but that just makes it more insulting."
I sighed. "So you get this e-mail-"
"And he copy-pasted parts of the French constitution - also poorly translated into English, and then back into French - as his example of how the world should run. Plus some kind of anarcho-authoritarian rant-"
It was my turn to interrupt "Isn't that a contradiction? If it's authoritarian it can't be anarchy, by definition."
"Exactly!" The Secretary-General said, "The damn e-mail was just chock-full of drunken nonsense like that!"
I sighed again. "And so you decided to just hand over control over the entire world."
"Not just me. Everyone voted, it was unanimous."
"You're all morons, you know that?" I said, unable to stop myself.
"Excuse me?" The Secretary-General said, affronted.
"Excuse you indeed," I said. "You handed over control - or what you thought was control - over the entire freaking world to some drunk idiot, on a *dare*."
"But the e-mail!"
"I don't care about the e-mail!" I said. "There's nothing in any e-mail ever written convincing enough to justify what you did. If some terrorist had threatened to blow up the entire goddamn *planet*, you still wouldn't have given in, but some moron with a drinking problem vomits up an essay and you fold? Morons!"
The Secretary-General was speechless. Good.
"This," I said, "is why secret societies like mine exist. Because you," I made a gesture that made clear that the 'you' in this case was plural, "are too stupid to keep things running yourself."
"I-"
"No." I said. "Tomorrow you'll all go back to work - and if I find out that this was actually some stunt to get time off, I'll... well that would actually be a *better* excuse than what you're telling me."
"Back to work? What about the drunk?"
"Don't worry," I said in my Ominous Official Secret Society voice, "We'll deal with him."
The Secretary-General, as most people did when I broke out that voice, wisely left the room. I made plans to deal with - specifically, murder in a deniable fashion - the idiot who'd started this whole thing with his drunken dare. If word got out that the reigns of power could trivially be seized just by downing a few shots, there would be serious consequences. Chaos, of course, but that wasn't my specific worry, no. People just couldn't be allowed to have their drunken dares acted upon.
That's how I'd gotten *my* job, after all. | “All roads lead back to White Claw,” I thought to myself as I watched the new UN flag, with its three dramatic waves getting the whole world blitzed, slowly rise above headquarters.
It’s been six months since the UN sent me that crazy letter, and things have been going far better than anyone could have guessed.
Well, to start off, I was expecting far more resistance from the general public considering that the UN had just anointed a college student to one of the most important positions of power in the world. To be fair, people *were* pretty pissed at first, but not at me.
“Is the UN run by a bunch of children?”
“Why would they give this position to some random kid?
“Well, world leaders have really lost it, huh?”
“Stocks in White Claw have just skyrocketed in value!”
Now, I could get into all the “politics,” and “foreign policy” mumbo jumbo stuff, but even after taking a grueling political science class, that stuff still confuses the hell outta me. Good thing I had a diverse friend group in college, because I recruited all the right minds for the job. You bet your ass that my valedictorian, who was a genius in public administration, international relations, and economics, was PUMPED to get a job offer from the new leader of the UN. And from there it pretty much snowballed into enlisting as many college graduates and bright young minds as possible.
Now, when it comes to all the “the fancy technical stuff,” I may be out of my element, but when it’s time to talk shop, you’ll find no one better (I was the weapon of choice on my school’s debate team). But as it turns out, society was sick of all the slander, deceit, and underhanded tactics that world leaders were using. People felt refreshed to hear an important figure say, “Hello everyone, I know we really fucked up on that *insert major world leader fuck-up here* but with your support, and suggestions, we will try our hardest to make things right.”
I can’t tell you what the world will be like years from now, or if my whole “leadership” thing” will work out. Hell, I went from being plastered on my couch to being in charge of the fucking UN in six months. But what I will tell you is that no matter what happens, I’ll be drinking White Claw till the day I die. | 2019-07-09T09:09:24 | 2019-07-09T07:34:44 | 106 | 13 |
[WP] Vampires aren't averse to garlic. Thousands of years ago a vampire introduced this idea as a way to develop and inspire better flavors in medieval foods. | "But... but you don't eat food" Joey said.
"Who made that rule?" Vlad responded, pulling a clove of garlic out of the fridge and crushing it.
"Um... Stoker I think? Or was it there before him?" Joey said, looking up at Vlad.
"Ah yes, Stoker. He was a fine vampire. Truly pushed our culture forward. Did you know, we actually gain power from having wooden crosses plunged into our hearts? He was a brilliant man." Vlad said as he threw the garlic in a pan and started to saute the spaghetti with the garlic.
"Damn, Stoker was a vampire himself? I would have never guessed."
"Yes, yes, everyone says that, now sit still, I need to get some blood from you." Vlad pulled out a syringe and poked it into joey's arm. "Start squeezing this ball, and I'll give you a band aid."
"Then you will let me go right?" Joey asked pleadingly.
"We'll see."
"So was the whole biting thing a lie too?"
"No, that was accurate. But we also used to not bath too. We learn and we change to protect ourselves. This method of collecting blood is much safer and more sanitary." Vlad walked over to Joey's blood bag, full by this point, and pulled the needle out of Joey's arm. "Ah perfect. Nice, safe, sanitary, doesn't spread any diseases, and everyone gets to walk away afterwards."
"So, how many vampires are there?"
"We don't really keep in contact with one another. Wouldn't really make sense." vlad said, spreading the chopped tomatoes over the spaghetti and pouring the blood onto of it. "Typically, we keep a population of around 100,000 between us. Makes it harder for us to go after the same people on multiple days."
"Huh, interesting"
"Now, before I let you go Joey you need to look into my eyes."
As joey stared into Vlad's cold eyes he felt his his mind go blank. Soon Joey was in a deep deep sleep.
\----------
The next morning Joey woke up in his home, with a bandage on his arm, and an "Red Cross" shirt on. He had no memory of the entire previous day. | Being an immortal gets boring much quicker than you'd expect.
Being a vampire is even worse.
See, once people start dropping dead due to suspicious bite wounds... well they start to suspect things. Usually that's my cue to skedaddle. Once you do it enough times however... being on the wanted list of every major city is an incredibly annoying experience.
Nowadays I have to hop from village to village to get decent blood. Let me tell you, it always sucks. Once you get used to drinking blood you start seeking subtle flavors, the hints that amateur bloodsuckers don't know are there.
Now I'm forced to feed on the poor uneducated masses. All peasants taste like is turnips and celery, and what's worse they smell like cow dung.
I miss cities. I miss books and fireplaces and wine.
Most of all though, I miss drinking rich people. The delicate flavors of herbs and exotic spices but most of all *garlic.* I would die *again* just to have a human whose blood tasted like garlic. A human who also took a *bath* once in a while.
If only there was a way to popularize garlic and hygiene throughout Europe...
Hell maybe I could even start getting people to use more salt! Under-salted food another reason why peasant blood sucked. I could say salt... kept out demons or something. Peasants were a superstitious lot. I'd think of it later.
That was a *good* thing about being immortal.
I had all the time in the world. | 2020-04-24T22:55:49 | 2020-04-24T18:26:53 | 164 | 115 |
[WP] You're a devil that used to seduce the soul out of innocent victims. You've grown sick of shallow relationships and opened an establishment where clients can buy theological debates, philosophical conversations and deep platonic friendships. Surprisingly, you're harvesting more souls than ever. | “So you're telling me, that you opened a business that sells conversations and friendships...and you're gathering more souls than ever?”
“Well yes...it seems to be working quite well actually” I replied to my boss, they were very confused when the amount of souls I had been gathering for a few hundred years suddenly spiked. When I told them it was because I was selling platonic relationships and philosophical conversations with famous peoples from through time. (all locally sourced from hell naturally), I was amazed that people were more than willing to sell their soul to have a chat with Confucius.
“Well, if it works I suppose...keep doing what you're doing I guess” my boss said with a perplexed look on their face, I shrugged and stood from the pleather chairs in front of their desk. (did you really think we could get actual leather down here in hell, where would we get the cows from). I left the office and walked briskly to the hellevator and pressed the top floor, and before I could say ‘thankyousatanforthisdarkgift’ I was back on the surface, a fresh pentagram glowing beneath my feet. I looked around and noting that I was in a storage closet this time I stepped out and made my way to the front of my shop.
I flipped my door sign and sat down behind the counter, before very long my first customer of the day walked in. “welcome to hellions clinic for the socially impaired, how may I assist you today?” | When people think of demons, they think of soul harvesting from an empty relationship just before taking a slurp of your soul. And yeah, you'd be pretty much correct in every aspect, except for the fact that I've changed my occupation a bit.
The nice thing about being a demon in that you know exactly what a customer desires, but for far too long demons have been misusing that ability. Why not use it to know what relationship they've always wanted, or the debate they've always wanted to have. Why is it a one way power?
------------------
"So Jerry.... you've always wanted to have a friend to be open with, that wouldn't take advantage of you or play with you're feelings?"
".... how'd you know that??! I didn't even tell you anything yet?"
"Oh Jerry, come to my office, it's my job for these sorts of things" | 2021-08-14T16:37:08 | 2021-08-14T15:16:42 | 44 | 19 |
[WP] The government spends all their time focused on exploring space, completely ignoring the enormous void that is the ocean and you're one of the few people who knows why. | "There he is again, mommy, look!" A little girl was clutching her mothers hand, trying to drag her towards me, her other arm outstretched, pointing at me accusingly, "the Ocean Man!"
*The Ocean Man*, I liked it. It was better than what most people called me. Everyone had a different name for me, but most names were some sort of variation of the word 'freak' or 'hobo'. They all mocked me but I didn't care, my purpose was true, my cause just. I stood there on my box, my sign held high and began my reading my script once again "Brothers and sisters!" I exclaimed loudly, "the end is near! For too long we have ignored the signs! For too long we have taken this world for granted! Deep beneath the waves lies a Demon of Deep! She sits and waits for her moment. We pollute the waterways with plastic and oil and waste. Our government looks to the stars for answers, but they ignore the deep! They know what lies there in wait, they know what is coming for us but they do nothing!"
I finished my last word, breathing frantically, my free arm waving wildly. Most people paid no attention to me, every so often someone would look up at the freak and his rantings before going back to their thoughts. One young man simply pulled out his phone and turned his music up. No one was listening to me. They saw me as a blight, an annoyance to be drowned out and ignored. But if only they knew.
I sat down on my box, my head in my hands, but I had no tears to shed. Not any more. I had given up weeping over the reckoning to come. Just as the people of this city had given up humouring me and pretending to listen. It was with shock, then, that I felt a tap on my shoulder. I lifted my head, a short, balding man stood in front of me, a neat black suit and thick sunglasses. "Commander Ramos, I need you to come with me" he said, his voice quiet but betraying authority that only a government goon could pull off. *Commander Ramos*. That was a new one, at least these days. No one had called me that in quite some time.
I stood up and let him lead me by the arm to the back of a waiting car, a black governmental sedan. I put up no fight, and didn't protest. It wasn't the first time the government had tried to silence me, it wouldn't be the last, I decided. A few people turned their heads briefly, but with no scene to be made, they went about their business as normal. I sank into the chair and tugged the seat-belt over my shoulder, lifting my beard out of the way.
The man from the government sat beside me and pulled out a folder "Thank you for coming peacefully sir. Do you know who I am?" he asked politely!
"Some government lackey!" I answered, gazing out the window.
He smiled "I'm Agent Johnson, and I represent the IDWA".
"The who?" I asked, turning to him.
"The IDWA. The Institute for Deep Water Activity"
"Never heard of you" I snorted.
He smiled again, and pulled out a pair of glasses and slipped them onto his face "I assure you Commander Ramos, that is intentional."
"Why do you keep calling me Commander?"
"Because you are. You are still Commander Ramos of the Portuguese Navy, are you not? Or would you prefer me to call you Capitão de fragata?"
"I'd rather you call me Luiz, but Commander is fine" I said back.
"I'll cut right to the point, Commander. We've tracked you for some time. After your discharge from the Portuguese Armed Forces you came to America. We know what you saw down there in your submarine, in the depths of the Atlantic..."
I turned to him, my eyes squinted in doubt. "You know nothing!" I spat. I had no doubts the Americans had access to Portuguese intelligence, they were allies after all, but the report was butchered and most of it redacted. What little remained described a minor encounter with an 'unexplained phenomenon'.
"We know you found a creature, and you barely made it out alive. The US Navy lost a submarine to it a few months ago. And the British had a close run with it too. We've even received reports that the Russians engaged it." He opened the folder to reveal hundreds of sheets of paper, most of them with thick black lines across the text. "At first we thought it was a Russian super weapon, maybe even Chinese. But our intelligence says they, along with everyone else, are just as stumped as we were".
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked. Was he even allowed too?
"We've spoken to your government. Effective immediately, you are reinstated to the Portuguese Navy, and have been cleared to act in official advisory capacity to the US military. We found the Kraken..."
My skepticism turned to outright disbelief. "Is it now? Is it happening? Are we about to be attacked?"
"Yes. But not by the Kraken... You see Commander, the Kraken was put here millenia ago to protect us. Protect us from something far more dangerous."
"What?" I asked, not sure I wanted the answer.
"We don't know, but we know it comes from space. The Voyager Probe picked it up years ago, and the Mars Rover did too". The car came to a stop outside a small bunker, the letters 'N.A.S.A.' emblazoned on a small traffic sign the only clue to our location.
"It's time, Commander." | Twenty men and women all in long white coats, tablets under their arms and half of them spectacled, all argue around a screen with several calculations on how to escape earth’s gravitational pull; Angus Bermuth, the last man in the room, steps forward and instead tells them why.
“The last days are coming, children. Play your silly games and get us off this wretched marble of death before it comes,” says Angus.
“Were you transferred here just to annoy us?” asks Doctor Eris Yarle – the project lead.
“Doctor Yarle, did you come from Oceanic Development? Have you seen what creatures lurk beneath?” asks Angus.
“Once again, we have no time for your speculations,” says Eris.
“I have nothing to speculate over besides when it happens. It is coming, Eris. It is coming and you cannot stop it. We can only escape. That’s why I’m here. Not to tell you how to do your jobs, but you know why you’ve got jobs at all. Men, women – the End Kraken cometh. Put on your raincoats and let’s get to rocket buildin’.”
***
Angus sits in the terminal not twenty-six miles away from the ocean. The sun behind the rocket glows orange with the first breath of night. The moon, enormous as it sits just above the horizon, it glows with the pearl luminescence as the End Kraken’s eye. Today is the day they leave. Angus grips tightly onto his cane, his white-haired knuckles aching and tight for the impending launches.
Eris stands beside him, tall and blonde and with her glasses crooked on her face. She wears two different shoes and her hair is barely bundled into a bun. As she bites her nails, the first rocket burns. Smoke exhale to the grounds around them, fuming the warm landscape with living gray clouds. The fire beneath the rocket burns so hot they dare not look. Angus shields his eyes, unable to see if Erin donned her goggles.
When the clouds vanish and the fires burn only in the sky, the tentacle sweeps across the land. The very tip the size of a highway, the girth of the tentacle stretches city-wide. With one motion the land is cleared to rubble. There is no escape. The End Kraken has cometh.
Angus takes Eris by the wrist and tugs her until her attention breaks from doomsday and towards his own eyes.
“We can kill it. I’ve been planning for this. I have a contingency, Doctor Yarle. But it will not be pretty.”
Eris’ mouth, small, gapes in absolute horror. Her grip becomes weak and icy. “Anything. We must do anything.”
And then it rises from the ocean, vast tsunamis break through across the rubble. The sky is filled with a creature of incomprehensible size. It does not block the sky – it is now the sky.
Where the moon would be was an eye, ever-black and staring right at Angus.
“Anything later. Running now,” says Angus.
***
“This won’t work, it can’t work,” says Eris.
“But it must,” says Angus.
Eris drags her thumb across the terminal. She types in six digits and then presses her hand flat to the glass pane. The screen response with green text. “You kept the prototype?”
“I did. And I put nuclear material in it,” says Angus.
“Where did you get the clearance to-“
“You think I got put on this project just to crack the whip, Doctor Yarle? Press the button. I have the clearance for onboarding but not for launching.”
“So you put a nuke in our guided rocket?” says Eris.
Angus meets eyes with Eris. Her pupils are like the bottom of the ocean, full of infinite dread. She swallows air and slams her thumb against the screen.
From the new window, they watch. The prototype twists on hits platform. It would never escape Earth from her. But it sure as hell can enter a beak.
It fires and the End Kraken opens its canyon maw. Its tongue pointed like a needled mountain peak. The rocket continues, twisting, twisting, veering just off course and-
As the End Kraken’s eye notices it, the creature stops, still. The rocket enters.
“Not a nuke. Dozens.”
Boom. The End Kraken cometh in pieces against the glass window. Blue blood splattered and chunks of wet flesh clung.
Eris, wide eyed, jumps until her mismatched loafer fell off, until her glasses straighten.
“We need to build,” says Angus.
“Pardon?” asks Eris. Her eyes like black fires in big lakes of white.
Angus leans onto his cane, his breath heavy and his face glistening with sweat.
“That wasn’t the End Kraken.”
No, Angus thinks. This is just the beginning. In the deep come infinite things vast and incomprehensible. There is no winning. They need more rockets to escape, for this is just one of the End Kraken’s broodlings.
| 2018-06-25T23:00:08 | 2018-06-25T21:46:35 | 33 | 11 |
[WP] "Grandpa, tell us the story of the Americans again!" With a sigh and a smile, you begin to tell the story of a mythical race of giants that were supposed to have lived in this very place thousands of years ago. | My eyes peered into the beaming face of my grandchild, who was lost in the pretense of a forthcoming tale of glory and myth. My thoughts were elsewhere, racing down halls of memory too vaulted and dark to explore at the moment. I snapped myself back to the now, to the lie I would have to spread once more. I swallowed, cracked a feeble smile, and poured out the stone-set story.
"Imagine a people who were driven solely by a love for something they created. A passion for their brothers and sisters and their freedoms as humans that was *so* important to them that they would die before forsaking it. They were a proud people, my son. And a brave people.
This beautiful land we live on was claimed by them in the name of that passion, was built upon, was traveled, was loved. America was an enormous place, big enough for the millions that flocked here over the course of the years. These people melded into the Americans we remember, but not after terrible strife. And after wars and deaths and dirt and delirium, the Americans pushed forward. They looked up from this great land and eyed the lights above - and they went there."
My grandson gasped as I spoke those last words, as he always does. I peered through a crack in the clay above and eyed a twinkling light set against the night. I sighed and continued.
"Those lights are stars, young one. Bright and huge and, above all else, home to worlds like this one. Worlds for humans to live on. And the Americans, as brave and passionate as they were, hurtled themselves upon steel and flame into that sky of lights. America was strong, as it had always been, but other lands wanted the stars as well. Other peoples sailed into the darkness, but the Americans were the first. Ship after ship carried Americans to new places, spread across the blackness of space. It's a vast and lonely distance between worlds, my son."
He cocked his head, barely catching enough breath to wheeze out, "Where are they now, pop? Where are the ships and stars and Americans?"
The lie must continue. He was too young to know, to be broken under the weight of hopelessness. I looked around at the dirt that made up our floor, at the thin patchwork that constituted our home. I sighed and spoke.
"They're still out there, son. The stars are far away from Earth, and Earth is waiting for them to return. They'll bring ships, and food and better homes for us all." I stole a final glance through the crack - the star had wheeled out of sight. Only night filled the void. "Bed now, my boy. Sleep well. Perhaps tomorrow the Americans will return." | Well, my children, you have to remember it is a myth - and a bizarre one at that. The story can teach us many things, but who on earth today could verify its truth? According to the myth, the Americans were indeed a strange breed with equally strange practices.
Hmmm.... where should we start? Perhaps daily activities are best. These humanoid giants began each day in a bath of chemicals, with each chemical holding a specific power to make them "beautiful". Some chemicals were rubbed all over their bodies, some only on their head hair, and even some on their teeth! As if this chemical bath process wasn't enough, the Americans frequently paid specialists to probe them, drill their teeth, cut open their bodies... All sorts of things of a gruesome nature... The Americans were known for diversity in looks in their population, but many of these activities aimed to make a race of people that followed one aesthetic ideal.
Despite the complexity and pain of these "beauty" rituals, the Americans were a simple minded race. They were easily enthralled by tales of mythical light-beings that reside above the sky, and simplistic patterns captured their attention easily. They fervently followed flags and imaginary voices with little thought as to why.
In their simple-mindedness, they also destroyed their habitat, leaving no trace of their once vast civilization. They frequently insulted one another over meaningless topics, and they took more than their fair share of resources from the land. Eventually, this led to bloodshed and violence among the Americans as they fought for food, water, shelter... All those things necessary to survive. The Americans were never able to reconcile old differences between the different light-beings they believed in, nor were they able to overcome centuries-old disagreements over skin and hair color. They divided themselves into groups, each believing his or her own group was better than the rest. Legend has it that one group did come to conquer the others, but the price of extensive warfare and trivial disagreements had already taken its toll. The winning group perished from their own selfishness, and the Americans were wiped from the face of the earth. | 2015-01-19T08:37:28 | 2015-01-19T08:34:57 | 115 | 13 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | ######[](#dropcap)
It was one of those surreal moments that you only get to experience once in life.
Linda was working on the script for the next show when her phone began to buzz. Slowly at first, just a couple messages. Work friends, she thought. Thursday was always their night out for drinks, but she had been too busy tonight to join them.
Then the buzzing became more rapid, until her phone began vibrating constantly on the bed. With a frown, she glanced at the messages that were popping up quickly, one after another. They were all from random numbers, all sending the exact same message. She scrolled through, just to make sure she wasn't missing something.
"It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside."
A frisson of fear ran down her spine. After a minute, the messages slowed down. Then a singular message, different from the previous ones.
"DO NOT LOOK OUT YOUR WINDOW."
It was from her boyfriend, Jordan. Her mind reeled. This had to be some kind of joke. She'd been such a good girl. She never went to abandoned houses and never walked into creepy forests alone. She was always sure to lock her windows and doors at night.
So with hesitant steps, she walked toward the dark curtain that was covering her window. Slowly, she reached out a hand and flicked off the lamp on her desk so that her room became pitch dark. It would help, at least, if whatever was out there couldn't see in. Then, she slowly slid open the curtain and peeked outside, expecting the worst. Perhaps a killer clown or a ghost.
She squinted. Was that...Jordan?
Without hesitating, she ran toward her bedroom door, throwing it open, and dashed down the steps of her apartment until she was at the bottom. There, she watched as her boyfriend was desperately trying to bring down the small hot air balloon that he had somehow managed to raise a little ways from her window.
He glanced down at her, then ducked into the basket. She simply stood there, waiting for him to get down. When the balloon came close enough, she saw the sign plastered to the front, and burst out into laughter.
On the front of the balloon, in large bold, flowery lettering, were the words:
LINDA, WILL YOU MARY ME?
When the hot air balloon touched down, Jordan climbed out, his face bunched up. "I told them not to send the messages, but it was too late when I noticed the typo--I'm going to kill Erin by the way--and everyone has such quick reflexes-"
Linda simply laughed and cut him off, throwing herself into his arms. "The answer's yes, in case you were wondering."
Jordan froze for a moment before he hugged her tight, lifting her up and spinning her around in the air. Then, huffing and puffing, he set her down, breaking out in a large smile as he gazed her windswept hair and freckles. "Best girlfriend ever," he said softly.
"Best fiancée ever," she corrected, and tilted his face so they could look at the moon together. "You have great timing, by the way. It's a full moon tonight."
"I meant to do that," he said, and kissed her on the forehead. Then he pulled out his phone.
"Mission success," he typed into the group chat, and ignored the kissy faces that flooded in. He would get revenge on Erin tomorrow, he vowed, his face dark. But at least, he thought, this would be a tale to tell the grandkids.
*****
r/AlannaWu | DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON.
My eyes were barely open, bleary with sleep, but the incessant buzzing of the phone against the glossy black wood of the bedside table was just passing the point of ignorable. It took me a moment to register that the words were strange, holding their place at the top of the screen in bold, official letters, while the green icons of text messages scrolled beneath.
Do not look at the moon? What the hell kind of late April Fool’s joke was this? I scoffed quietly, glancing down over the stream of messages. Moon shit, moon shit, and… moon shit. Whatever. Had to be some kind of gag, and frankly, I didn’t have the goddamn time for it. Work came early in the morning, and I had… what, two hours left before I had to wake up in order to beat traffic?
Fuck this. I powered the phone off to quiet the buzzing, and dropped my hands down to rest on my chest, phone still resting beneath. And with the screen out of my line of sight, that was when I noticed her.
My wife was a beautiful woman-- The sort of beautiful that comes after a good decade of married life. That kind of beautiful with a few lines around the eyes, and a few strands of stray silver in her dark hair. Not that I could see them from where she was, standing silhouetted by the streaming moonlight pouring in the window, her hands resting lightly on the glass.
“Anna?” came my groggy mumble of a voice.
No response. She just stood there, staring upwards in the bath of silvery light. Was the moon always this bright? Or had I just never really noticed it before?
“Anna, c’mere,” I said a little louder, reaching out a heavy hand towards her and dropping it back down onto the sheets.
Nothing.
Concern slowly began to stir somewhere in my gut as I stared at her familiar outline. I could see the dust in the air, floating lazily in the shafts of moonlight that her body eclipsed. Her nightgown wasn’t sheer, but as awareness began to settle in on my suddenly very awake mind, I realized the light was shining straight through. That was far, far too bright for moonlight.
And that was when she turned her head, the movement just a little too slow, too smooth. In the perfect, bald light I could see her face. So familiar, with those smile lines around her lips, even with the neutral blank of her expression. Her dark brows lifted over eyes familiar in shape, even if the harsh shadows made them look like strange, blackened pits. And then she finally looked at me. I knew she looked at me. It was unmistakable with the way her pupils reflected the moonlight, like some nocturnal hunting cat.
Her lips parted and she whispered, her soft voice clear.
“The moon-- it’s beautiful tonight. Come look.
| 2022-06-10T18:58:05 | 2018-04-06T20:42:31 | 308 | 10 |
[WP] In the year 2200, an IQ test with 100% accuracy is invented. IQ becomes the universal grade of intelligence. By law, everyone has to take the test at 18. You’re a perfectly normal university student with a part time job but now you've got to explain to everyone why the test shows your IQ is 0. | "WHAT?" My parents screamed, furious. They couldn't believe that, with the combination of their genes and my upbringing, I could possibly score a zero. Not only that, but all three of us were smart enough to know that it is impossible to have an IQ of zero and still be a functional human being.
"You act surprised," I note, holding the same smirk I'd had since I received the results. "I'm amazed you didn't see this coming."
"Of course we didn't! You're very intelligent! There's no way this is correct!" They stared incredulously at the paper, only darting glances at me every once in a while to make sure I was still there, and that the whole situation wasn't a hallucination or lucid dream.
"It is correct, though." I slowly started to march forward, hands clasped behind my back and my chest swelled in pride. I cocked my head back for dramatic effect as I stood next to them, with my mother between myself and my father. I put my arm around them both, and they resisted every urge to shove me off of them. I decided to save myself a beating, and, with as dramatic timing as I could muster, I lifted my finger, placed it at the top of the paper directly next to my score, and pointed out the fine print. "I didn't get a single answer correct. In this entire test, not a single one."
"How?" They asked. "Why?" They added.
"I beat the test. Backwards. I didn't do it through lucky guesses, either. I deconstructed and reconstructed each and every single question, turning its own logic against it and coming up with the perfect wrong answers." I looked up at them, met with the same glares, but softened with a slow burn of confusion and wonderment. They knew it was even more improbable than getting every question correct.
At that very moment, a rapid succession of knocks on the front door resounded throughout the house. My parents trained their eyes on me as they walked past, almost as if they were saying, "We aren't done talking about this." They reached, with the test paper still in hand, to open the front door.
"Mr. and Mrs. Barry, I presume?" I recognized the voice. It was deep and brash, but not confident. It was more arrogant than anything, but a quiver made it sound humbled, and I leaned against the wall behind the door. "Your son... Well... He's been selected."
"Selected for what?" My mother lifted the paper, looking at it and showing it to the principal.
"So you have seen that? Good. You see... He did what only a handful of others could in the entire world, and even beat some other successful candidates at their own game. He's been selected to attend a panel of the world's foremost minds, including the ones who proposed and enacted the IQ test mandate."
*"This is it,"* I thought to myself, *"I proved the bastards wrong."* | Edit: If you read /u/lemonman37 comment, you can read a better written version of my story.
When i opened the letter, i felt my heart sank to my stomach. A big fat zero, just like on my bankaccount... my eyes jumping from line to line, turning the letter around, just to be greeted by a smiley, with the slogan. "Your iq, your future - dear Brian".
I wandered around in the appartment, my hand where slightly shivering. It had to do something with my birthday, i was a little drank wasn't I?
But then again ... Zero? That must have been a computer error... right? The test itself was without error... if not ...
Yes the new ID-Cards all updated themselve, real iq had to be on there!
My hand went into my pocket and grabed my Wallet.
Sloppy fingers let it fall to the Ground but i fiddelt my ID out anyway.
There it was ... the big fat zero. *knock knock* the door caught me by suprise, my ID fell to the ground ... the rumors ... where they true? That the goverment took out anyone with a low iq score?
I made my way to the door, as silent as possible, i heard the voice, just as i looked trough the doorspy. ,,Pizza service''. Jesus.
Brian opened the door, ,,*Uhm, i did not uh morder uhm i mean order , any pizza, and my roomates are out, sooo ... wrong door?*''
The pizza boy looked realy anoyed, the kind of guy who got pranked 3 times this week, and was just to fucking tired of this shit. He took out the reciept, than a look the number of the apartment.
,,*Brian?*''
,,*Thats me, but i did not order anything.*"
,,*The Brian who just got a Zero on the iq test?*"
,,*What... I*"
,,*Take it, you are going to need it.*"
The Pizza-boy just pushed the Pizza in my Hand and was trough the fireproof door before i got out another word.
| 2016-08-19T02:52:19 | 2016-08-19T00:08:55 | 18 | 11 |
[WP]Upon reaching the age of 12 every kid gets an spirit animal that reflects their personality. | Personality was important in this world. It ended up affecting your status in society, your job, your partners. Dogs would often end up as police officers, parrots as talk show hosts, seagulls as fishermen or naval crew. The alpacas of the world often ended up as psychopaths, which was a rather strange trait. Most people mated with others with the same spirit animal. Their children were often bonded with similar spirit animals. It was very rare for anyone to have certain animals. Lions were often leaders, politicians or royalty. Eagles were suited as military personnel. It wasn't unheard of for a poor family to have a child with an animal that would catapult them into the upper echelons of society.
Eric had always been a quiet child. He was never loud and boisterous like the other children, the ones who now had bears. Nor was he bright and chirpy, like those who now had finches. He wasn't slow and steady like the children who had whales or elephants. To everyone else, Eric just faded into the background, while the other children played and danced with their new animals.
Eric was now surrounded by a group of his classmates. They were all jeering at him, their animals growling, circling and occasionally pretending to rush him. He was the youngest child in the class, his birthday on the 21st of December. They had found him walking, alone, in the bitter cold, with no spirit animal by him. Easy pickings for the bullies. As they closed in, Eric closed his eyes. He was used to this by now. He was of slight build, and not very tall. He waited for the first blow to land.
The sounds of hurried footsteps and shrieks sounded. He cracked open one eye. All of the children were running away, looking fearfully at a point behind him. He turned slowly.
A large black jaguar was staring right at him. It purred softly, a little rumble that sounded strangely comforting.
Eric looked around, and back at the animal- no, his spirit animal. He smiled. No more pain.
For him, at least.
| Timmy was so excited as today was his birthday, and it was a special birthday being his 12th, the birthday he gets his spirit animal.
The moment came, a bright point of light drifted down through the ceiling and approached Timmy.
Closer and closer it got, growing bigger and bigger with every passing second, Timmy could feel the warmth of the light as his spirit animal drew near.
Suddenly the light exploded into a blinding flash! Instinctively everyone closed their eyes and when they opened them back up Timmy saw...
Nothing. No dog, nor cat, nor rhino or raccoon. Not even a squirrel.
Timmy's eyes started tearing up, his face scrunched in an attempt to hold back the crying.
Where was his spirit animal? Did he even get one? What's going on?
Suddenly a tiny, high pitched voice sounded in his ear. "Hello" it said.
Timmy DID get a spirit animal, but he couldn't see it. He snapped his head around looking for his spirit animal when the voice spoke again, "Please stop, I'm right here, on your nose!"
Timmy looked down his nose the best he could. He squinted and focused so hard his eyes were starting to ache, and then he saw it.
Perched on the tip of his nose, was a mosquito. | 2015-07-17T16:11:08 | 2015-07-17T16:10:08 | 39 | 14 |
[WP] A race of mages has expanded across the stars to harvest mana by seeding worlds with life. They arrive at a new star then a bright glow envelopes them. What followed are metal obelisks with a humanoid yelling into the void: "That was your warning shot. We will not let you reach Earth." | In the aftermath of The Fall, a galactic empire found itself torn asunder from within. Countless millennia of unchecked growth and careless hedonism had warped the unbreakable and rotted it from the inside. When every conceivable problem had been solved by automation, when immortality was achieved and taken for granted, when obscene magics provided anything that could be desired, there the seeds of a downfall began to take root.
No foe could best their might, no want was out of their reach, no troubles were insurmountable. When life ceased to be a balanced struggle it began to warp for the empire. Insidious cults of pleasure began to grow, promising a worthwhile pursuit of existence in fulfilling each and every desire, no matter the cost. As every new high was reached, the Aeldari grew to crave more and more. Slowly these cults expanded across the stars, seizing power and infesting endless populations. Entire worlds devolved into mindlessly chasing ever-more potent ways to feed their insatiable lusts. Gleaming cities crumbled as their populations delved into depravity, into the unspeakably macabre lives that would consume their every intention in the name of chasing the next high.
So slow was this treacherous rot that the empire did not realize its mistakes until it was much too late. The echoes of the actions plaguing the galaxy began to culminate. In the shadows of the Warp every scream and every drop of blood spilled in the name of excess collected, grew, matured, and eventually awoke.
The Aeldari empire died not with a bang, nor a whimper, but with a shriek. In an instant the galaxy found itself rocked by the force of countless billions of Aeldari souls exploding into the void to the laughter of a newly born God. The epicenter of the corruption, the empire's birthplace and seat of power, collapsed in on itself and blossomed into a profane wound in the fabric of reality. Through the minds of every Aeldari across the great bounds of the galaxy, a clawed hand tore into the souls of the living and dragged them into an insatiable maw. A twisted, daemonic reflection of their ways had come to reap what had been sewn. A name rang through the galaxy with the tones of a race's death knell. Slaanesh.
That was nearly five thousand years ago. Despite the wholesale destruction of their empire, the Aeldari had managed to cling to life. The outcasts who had not succumbed to the pursuit of excess, who had left their homes aboard great Craftworld ships, were the sole survivors of the Fall. Each and every one forever burned with the memories of their race's decline and the guilt of knowing that they are all that remains. Some turned to lives of quiet contemplation, to the hopes of preserving what remained of their shattered culture. Others took shelter where they believed She Who Thirsts could not reach them and continued their hedonistic ways. Still others scoured the stars beyond the ruins of their empire, searching perhaps in vain for a way to restore their race's glory.
Aboard a scouting vessel exploring an arm to the galactic East is a conclave of such individuals. So much had been lost during the Fall that precious few records remained of what might be found on the outskirts of their empire. Tales were whispered of worlds on the far reaches of the galaxy where isolated planets had been seeded with life by Aeldari hands, and optimistic legends spoke of worlds where scattered remnants of Aeldari power might still remain. Most tellingly, whatever echoes of sentience that could be detected drew the wayward spacefairers most readily. This particular expedition had been set in place to track down what had only been described as a beacon of psychic energy in the void of interstellar space. A bright, shining light that cut through the darkness of the Warp and its chaotic storms.
No other race that the Aeldari had encountered could have produced such a beacon. The souls of those privileged to make pilgrimage to the source of this phenomenon soared with the hopes of reuniting with their long-lost brothers.
As the massive wraithbone vessel exited the pan-galactic tunnels of the webway, those attuned to the machinations of the Warp found themselves suddenly bombarded with the force of a psychic power unlike anything they had ever experienced. Although not entirely unknown, as in the deepest memories of their souls the Aeldari remembered a single instance where they had felt such incredible power washing over their minds. The craft navigators erupted into panic, their mouths flung wide and their eyes unable to close from the sheer force of the power flowing through them. A thousand racing minds flashed back to the death of their race and tried in vain to prepare themselves for obliteration. But as they tried to scream, no sound left their throats. At least none that had been intended.
The sounds conjured up the image of a being so vast in power that many of those with weaker or unprepared minds were evaporated by the glow of the golden figure. Throughout the great halls of the vessel and into every corridor and corner, a voice spoke directly into the minds of every individual aboard. It was in a language alien to them, one that they had never encountered, but they understood every word of it with chilling clarity.
#"The space you invade at this moment is yours no longer. We will not allow you bring the witchcraft that doomed your race to our home. *I will not allow it.* Consider this your first and only warning, Eldar. Stand aside or suffer the wrath of the rightful heirs to the galaxy. Deliver this message to the rest of your kind. You will not reach Terra, and you will not stand in our way. So it is decreed by the Emperor of Mankind."
---------------------------------------------------
Hope it's alright that I took a liiiiittle bit of creative liberty with the prompt. And yes, this is a Warhammer 40k thing. It was too fitting for me to avoid! | Maece stood at the helm of her ship, her fingers hovered over the glowing crystal that powered the ship’s engines and directed it where to go. Planet BX223, designated Earth, was the last of her planets to seed for eventual harvesting before she could go back home.
Already four years had passed since she had seen her daughter Gwendolyn. The girl would no longer be a toddler and would already have started in the arcane arts of her home world. Every Household held their own specialty passed down between the generations and for those without a household like Maece, it was deemed unnecessary to be around for the aging of their children. After all, if she had no specialty to offer, what was the worth of a mother?
But Maece spent her nights thinking about Gwendolyn. Would they share in their golden locks? Would her eyes be the muddy turquoise of her family? And the question that filled her eyes with tears because she already knew its answer—would Gwendolyn recognize me?
For those without Households, life was hard in Serenity. They had few job prospects, only offered such things as seeding and harvesting, the process by which they planted life into worlds and then harvested them for mana to bring back home.
“Vicky,” Maece said to the entity trapped within the crystal. “How much longer?”
“We’re entering surrounding Earth-space in a few seconds,” Vicky said. “I’m slowing us down to light speed in preparation.”
Maece nodded. She kept her eyes straight ahead, watching the green-blue hunk of rock expanding in her view. One last planet and she could see Gwendolyn again. “All hands,” she said to her crew of five other House-less mages. “Prepare to seed.”
The ship abruptly stopped. A beam of yellow shot through space, eviscerating the blackness in its blinding light. Maece blocked her eyes. It burned like she was staring into a nearby star.
“What the hell was that, Vicky?”
“Fire-based weaponry,” Vicky said. “Allotting power to shield systems now.”
Maece dipped her hands into the crystal, her fingers sinking into it as it turned to gel. Instantly, her mind had fused with Vicky’s. She peered through Vicky’s sensors, looking for the assailant. She found them, four metal obelisks as big as their ship in a circle surrounding Earth.
“That was your warning shot,” a voice came from one of the pillars. “We will not let you reach Earth.”
“This is the Serenity Pathfinder on a routine seeding mission,” Maece said through Vicky’s voice. ”Lower your weapons. Planet designation Earth was determined to have no salvageable life.”
“Only by your council,” the voice replied. “You do not get to play God so far away from home.”
Maece nearly laughed. The mages of Serenity might as well have been gods for how powerful they were. However, she was in a scout-class ship without any heavy weaponry and only House-less mages to support her. And whatever these obelisks were, they packed a punch.
“Why protect a doomed planet?” Maece asked. “If you do not let me proceed, I will be forced to contact Serenity’s main battle force.”
“We are prepared for death.”
Maece clenched her jaw. At the speed Serenity’s bureaucracy went, it would take five years just for her order to be read. By then, Gwendolyn would be a teenager and she would be the mother that never showed up.
“You would go so far to protect *Earth*?”
“Life is not a number you can plug into an equation and spit out its value.” The obelisks, shifted and spat out its main guns.
“By every calculation, the current life on Earth is doomed to wipe itself out anyways. The end result is the same, whether it is through us or them. Surely, you’ve done the calculations yourself. Are you saying you’ll intervene?”
“No. We will let it play out to its final conclusion.”
“Foolish.” Maece never understood these rebels. They lacked the logic needed to thrive throughout the universe. That was why Serenity was a planet of gods and them the worshippers.
“What are your commands, Maece?” Vicky asked.
Maece nibbled on the inside of her cheek. The obvious answer was to wait. They were outgunned, outnumbered, and had no intelligence on these obelisk structures. However, there was a little girl waiting for her back at home.
Gwendolyn probably didn’t even know Maece existed. She probably didn’t stay up lights like her mother did thinking about her. Logically speaking, she would recognize Maece just the same if their meeting came today or ten years from now.
A grin parted Maece’s lips. Just when she had mocked these beings for the irrational thought, here she was with her own. “Push forward, Vicky, prepare for battle.”
“Commander, I must warn you that you are choosing the least optimal strategy.”
“I know Vicky, but do it anyways.”
The ship lurched forward and the obelisks took aim.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations by popular demand, and more!
| 2017-06-05T11:46:20 | 2017-06-05T11:06:16 | 193 | 61 |
[WP] When you kill someone, their remaining life span is added to yours. Archaeologists have just found a cavern, apparently sealed off for thousands of years, with a single person living inside. | It is a phenomenon known for millennia, that to end another's life would extend the span of yours by their remaining natural years. It was because of this that in our otherwise civilised and ordered society occurred an abhorrent level of murder.
Home security was prioritised alongside food and water. It was common occurrence for homes to be broken into by the sickly or aged armed with a torrent of weapons; from revolvers and rifles to grenades, flamethrowers and noxious gas. The only known rule for the extension of life is that you must be looking into their eyes as they take their last breath.
The story broke on an idle Sunday morning, news that shifted and changed the world as it broke.
*"Breaking News: Archaeologists have this morning uncovered a sealed tomb that is believed to hold a sentient human male. Analysis of the rock and soil suggests the area has been in tact for between 2550 and 2750 years. Stay tuned for live updates"*
I, your stoic narrator, took a sharp intake of breath as the realisation of implications associated to this discovery reverberated through to my soul.
*Thousands* of years alive. In a sealed tomb.
How is this possible? How had he stared into the eyes of enough people to feed life for so many generations? If one was to kill this being, by how many generations would life by extended? How many had he slain?
There was a lengthy and consuming debate surrounding whether or not the tomb should be opened that involved the leader of almost every nation. A true Schroedinger's serial killer.
The sociological implications could be enormous, the number of people who would make an attempt on his life would be unprecedented. Furthermore, we did not know the capabilities of this man, of one who had survived since the Romans, and likely knew of Cleopatra and Jesus Christ. He may have the power to kill fleets of people, perhaps all.
So I ask, what is it you would do? For I, as a man who has survived for 976 years in secrecy through slaughtering those I deem unworthy, believe that as much as I would thrive on the euphoric sensation of ripping his windpipe from his throat after masterfully bursting through to his decrepit pit, *I am afraid I will become nothing more than prey*. | Plato was on to something; he really was. He knew, I'm sure. Oh, that sly man.
We don't yet know who the man in the cave is, but the case has been picked up by every media outlet. The blogosphere is clinking with 10 new entries on the story every second. Every conversation I have overheard in the past three days has referenced to the caveman.
Anyone can see that the possibilities are endless. An unperturbed anthropological treasure has just surfaced, and you bet the academics are going crazy right now. Politicians? Those sleazebags are just worried the man will blabber something he shouldn't, question fundamental historical beliefs about *democracy* or something or the other, upend social order, spark a revolution. Fear really numbs your brain; a man deranged enough to survive on the blood of thousands is not gonna revolutionize any social order. No, he wouldn't care about that, about justice, or truth. He wouldn't even want the limelight. He's just thirsty right now. He hasn't seen the world outside in so long, and he wants it now. I know because I belong to the group that has accumulated this knowledge and defended it from getting to beyond a few hands. Well, I guess I belonged. Past tense. Right now, we're all on our own, for the time being; until someone wins, that is. After that, they will rule the world for longer than we had ever imagined, keep no doubt about it.
I must find and kill this man before anyone else can. The race is on. | 2020-05-16T05:28:26 | 2020-05-16T04:24:54 | 2,161 | 116 |
[WP] Taxes become optional, however, those who don't pay are not protected under the law. | The fireman stood like a statue, ax in hand, protecting my home. He had introduced himself as Stephen, before taking his sentry post between all my life's possessions and the inferno. The blaze had started around 2 am. Reflecting back on this moment, I would come to learn that the fire had started because of a faulty wire in my neighbor's toaster.
Looking over at my neighbor, he seemed awestruck. Not only as the fiery A-frame of his former home burned orange and red, but also at the line of protectively clad men just standing there. The Morristown Fire Department had made a perfect semi-circle around my house, covering the 150 feet between our homes. They had even been so kind as to dismantle my fence and remove it from harm's way.
Watching the scene, I could visibly see my neighbor transition from anger to bargaining. One moment he was yelling and pounding on Stephen's chest and the next digging into his pockets. Throwing what little cash he had in his pocket at the stoic firemen, he whimpered, "I'll pay them...all of them...I'm sorry...I didn't know..."
As the orange light of dawn mingled with the smoldering light of the house, my daughter stirred. As she woke, I whispered, "That is why we always pay our taxes..." | It was their fault. They opted out. They stopped paying their taxes. For what? Greed.
241.
All they had to do was pay a tax. It wasn't huge. Sure some is wasted, but the vast majority went to good and proper things. Not paying taxes sure was shortsighted for these unfortunate souls.
242.
Such is life. Oh well. Maybe with the TV crews here they will start to realize. No taxes means no protection. From anything. Even from me.
243.
I wonder if that cameraman payed his taxes. I should find out. He might get to be number 244. | 2015-02-20T10:21:17 | 2015-02-20T09:34:16 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why. | It is often said that the line between good and evil is thin one, but that's actually quite far from the truth. Nothing in this life is inherently good or evil. It's more of a big grey mess. Some areas are lighter and others darker but nothing is truly black and white. It's like walking through a swamp, one wrong step and you might sink into the murky depths. That's where our loved ones come in, they're like roots and branches that we can grab unto to pull ourselves back up. But if that branch should snap, you will sink deeper and deeper unable to pull yourself back up. This is the reason Why we do not attack a hero's loved ones, because if they should sink into that darkness, nothing can pull them back out.
This is a lesson that once learned is not easily forgotten, and the price that is paid is too steep to pay twice. This is the lesson that Surtr learned today as he opened the door to his apartment. The smell was the first thing that hit him. Just the smell itself burned his lungs and drove him into a coughing fit. When he recovered, he looked up to see everything destroyed, his furniture seemingly eaten through as if someone had filled the room with acid. As he looked around the room his eyes settled on 3 corpses, seated around what was once a table. Their bodies no longer recognizable as flesh had melted from bone. He didn't even have time to fully process the sight as he turned around to see Miasma. The hero who was renowned for his ingenuity in using his deadly power of creating clouds of acid to save people.
He started talking calmly, as if he was walking through the park talking to an old friend "let me tell you a little secret, I wasn't always a hero. I was once a villain like you, driven by greed. I would melt my way through bank vaults, stealing everything and dissolving any witnesses. I killed more people than you can imagine, I've heard more screams than you can fathom. But that was many years ago, and I've long since changed my ways. I became a hero, using my powers to rescue people. I hadn't hurt a single person in 17 years... until today that is. You see the thing is, you hurt my friend's loved ones, and that is somethingthat will not stand. Had it been any other hero, I wouldn't get involved. The Enclave would set the hero loose from their restraints and they'd do with you what they pleased. but I just couldn't let Zen take revenge himself, taking a human life, it changes you, corrupts you, I couldn't let Zen go through that. But me, I'm already too far gone, a few more voices in my head won't keep me up at night."
He leaned in and whispered in Surtr's ear "Don't worry though, I won't kill you, I want you to suffer. Everytime you close your eyes I want you to see your family's dissolved corpses, Imagine how they screamed in pain as their skin melted off of their bones. That will serve as a reminder of the lesson you've learned today. Don't. Mess. With. A. Hero's. Loved. Ones."
He took a step back "However, I can't very well let you go, the chances of you going after someone else's loved ones are too high. I have to make sure you'll never use these hands to burn anyone ever again" and with a simple wave of his hand the acid in the air dissolved Surtr's arms, leaving nothing behind.
*I don't normally write stuff with a darker tone like this, but I hope you all liked it* | A bright flash of light and a car battery hooked to his spine accompanied his return to the waking world. He reached for his head but only a numb resistance rewarded the effort. He turned his head gently and when the world stopped twisting in his vision he saw dimly the manacles holding his arms securely to the wall.
"Ahh, now he's with us" a voice came from the umber room, resonant with barely suppressed malice.
His head turned rapidly, hot coals and a violent spinning accompanying his search for the source.
The man stalking slowly towards him was a figure he'd only seen from distance, the leader of a group of lawless men graced with equal parts power and inclination to use it freely.
"We haven't met before, I think." said the creature known to his peers as Justice.
A bit of bleak humor that, for an Uber with such raw strength that law was whatever he decided it was, for as long as whimsy carried him.
Ice poured into his blood and the pain in his brain lifted, replaced by terror so profound as to start it's own religion as his mind turned an abstract input of of senses into recognition laced with the context of thousands of corpses.
"But I see that you know me well enough" something close to mirth lurked beneath the venom of the shadowed voice.
"We are not, by nature, creatures of much compassion." Justice began, having come to a stop just outside of reach of the hanging man's confines. There was a brief pressure, almost a twitching in the shoulder suggesting he was making an effort of will to remain motionless.
"Nor of much use for the rules of lesser creatures in their hopes of creating an illusion that wolves don't walk the same meadows as sheep." he continued.
"But even wolves have respect for the shepherds, and it was agreed long ago that so long as the shepherd's family were safe in their homes, the wolf cubs would be safe in their dens."
At this his body shook violently and the manacles took the weight his legs now failed to carry.
"You have broken the only rule. The least of limits on your will. The word I gave to those self enslaved fools who call themselves Heroes. " The voice turned colder and the visage hardened to metallic sharpness.
"I have already spoken to Vigil, have already offered apology and recompense, such as were possible. I have prostrated myself before that fool and his ilk and before a legion of those feeble peasants."
Somehow the arch villain Justice was standing in the middle of the room facing the opposite wall, no whirling of air or body to indicate he had just crossed ten feet of room before the eye could register.
Panic turned to faintness and the young man's body seemed to separate from his mind, a distant thing belonging to someone else.
"A blood price I paid" the villain spoke, his voice holding the power of fate
"A blood price I will now collect" | 2020-07-12T12:45:40 | 2020-07-12T12:28:44 | 20 | 14 |
[FF] In three sentences, kill as many people as possible. No firearms, no natural disasters, no explosives, no WMDs. | [Loophole? The rules never said I couldn't use compound, complex, or compound-complex sentences, so to make it clear there are only 3 sentences I will label them. I apologize if this is cheating. If it is I will delete it.]
(Dialogue):"(1)Good evening graduates, my name is--well, I shall not reveal that information due to obvious reasons, but you may simply refer to me as The Director. (2)Starting today, you will all take part in a social experiment I like to call 'Survival of the Fittest'; as you listen to my pre-recorded voice, all of the doors and windows of your campus's assembly hall are being locked, chained, and barricaded by your corrupt police department which gladly accepted my bribes--please do not try to escape, because there are no tools or supplies in your new home, and your attempts will fail. (3)The rules are fairly simple: the last man or woman alive shall receive 5 billion dollars--proof of the money's existence is being projected onto the screen before you all; now, lights...camera...ACTION!" | martin worked furiously in the dying light, trying to pack his specimens into the one remaining powered refrigerator in the CDC. electricity, like everything else, was a premium since the SSPE-strain measles pandemic of 2016 and he'd barely secured the tiny space he now stacked the tiny tubes into. he'd even had to contribute half of his personal watts to its running and he spared a curse, as he did every day, at the fools who stopped vaccinating themselves a mere generation ago. | 2014-08-04T22:22:34 | 2014-08-04T22:10:19 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] You've saved the lives of thousands. You're the reason names and dates aren't associated with horrendous disasters. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, you're an uncatchable serial killer with inscrutable motives. | When the first letter arrived on my doormat I ignored it. The name embossed on the heavy pearl white card didn't mean anything to me so who would pay any attention? One month later I saw the name again on the news ticker tape. “Carl Droveson named as pilot who crashed onto Highway 33 killing 30”
The next day another letter arrived. The same immaculate penmanship on the envelope and inside another name carved into the gleaming, rigid surface. Winona Culldown. This time I paid a little more attention and found her online. Mother of three; part time pharmacy assistant; loved karaoke with the girls and keen chef, she had even tried out for Masterchef. Two weeks later she was dead and had taken 48 people with her when the tenement she lived in burnt down due to the gas explosion from a post-drinking attempt to cook a midnight snack for herself.
And the next day there was another shimmering card. Jared Zahn. Architect and soon to be married. I had no idea what he was going to do but somehow he would cause the deaths of dozens of people and the only people who knew were me and the sender of the letter. I followed Jared around for almost a week before I confronted him about what I suspected would happen. No, what I knew would happen. Predictably he just laughed at me.
When the jetty he had built at his lake-front home gave way under the weight of his wedding guests 22 people were plunged under the ice.
It's been 5 years now and every other letter that has landed on my doorstep has led me to take someone's life because I couldn't keep going knowing that I hadn't done something to prevent whatever tragedy was about to happen. I've had to move around a lot as the police have become more and more skilled in tracking my online research, but no matter where I find myself the perfectly written envelopes always arrive at my door from wherever it is they come. Those clean, crisp white cards with only a name. Today that name is Nathan Gleik and I am dumbfounded. Nathan is 53; a paraplegic living in a tiny cottage way outside of the smallest town you can imagine and from what I have learned he has had just two visitors a day for the last 10 years. His carer and the newspaper boy who also drops off his mail. I have no idea how but this man will cause the deaths of enough people to decimate his hometown.
I wait until night falls and his carer heads home. Eventually the light goes out in his bedroom and I give him time to fall asleep. It’s always easier to do it as they sleep. That and the sharpness of my knife are the only calling cards I have for the police to identify me by. After years of practice I manage to easily and quietly enter his home. I ever so slowly push the bedroom door open to prevent any creaking and scan the space. Nathan is sat bolt upright in bed with a pen in his hand writing by the moonlight coming in his window. The same moonlight that is reflecting off a stack of pearl white cards on his bedside table.
“I can't stand what I made you all do any longer. Please. End it”
I do.
| "A fine evening, isn't it?" he said, looking up at the silvery web the moon cast over the cloudy skein of night. He held the knife loosely with his gloved fingers as he swung his arm over the rope railings, allowing the stained edge to examine the beautiful, reflective surface of the river placidly chugging along beneath it. His left foot tapped incessantly at the wooden bridge, searching for something along its multitude of knotted planks.
The dog beside him did not answer. It kept its head down, the furrowed brows squeezing in some phantom pain that failed to possess the outer layers of its body. Its breath came out in short, puffy bursts, but it nudged its snout at his leg all the same as it heard his voice.
"I brought you here for a reason, of course." The man turned to the dog, free hand half-cocked to stoop down and pet it, but frozen mid-motion by an unseen force. He drew it back towards his side, as it scorched, and there it lay at an awkward angle. He sucked in another long draught of the cold river air, and tried to speak again.
"I... I brought you here for a good reason. I hope you understand. I have to do it this way and no other, lest the Fates notice." He forced himself to look at the silvery water. The knife flashed by his side, keeping time with its fervent swinging. "I don't have the heart to kill people again. Not yet. I'm still not ready. Two were enough this month. But their deaths were well paid, that I am certain of."
He could hear it now, rumbling from a distance. Three buses of teenagers, chaperoned by the strong logic of beer, barreling towards the fragile wooden bridge of this small town. Even now his tapping feet found a crack on the planks.
He let out a deep sigh. He could already see the news tomorrow. Dog found dead at the Semione River, the ink would say. To them it would just be a dog, of course.
He knelt down towards the dog, the blood now pooling out of its prone body. It was a warning sign now, bright red and white under the cold white eye of the moon, very visible long before the first bus could pass into the nether.
He gave it one last pet as its breath was stolen away.
"Good boy. Good boy."
| 2019-04-03T08:28:04 | 2019-04-03T06:56:07 | 61 | 10 |
[WP] Aliens have realized humans advance more quickly during times of conflict, and have tried to push humanity into wars to see what happens. However, that changes when they start WW2 and humans harness the power of the atom. | "They weren't scheduled to discover this technology for another hundred years." Director Gemlik spoke into his recorder. "Humans are resilient and would make a spectacular spacefaring race. All we wanted to do is prepare them to be a part of the galactic federation... I'm terrified to be in charge of 400 agents on this planet with the imminent threat of world destruction. In preparation for the Manhattan project, I've evacuated my agents from Japan and Oceania." He closed his eyes and rubbed his head scales.
"These humans exhibit the strangest emotional patterns; in times of stress like this war, they are brutally savage and act void of empathy. But otherwise connect with others of their species with great care." Muffled noise as the captian turned from the microphone to give a command.
Gemlik came back to his diary with a frustrated and defeated tone. "My communications board has been making contact with admiral Celdin, the consulate has granted him permission to send rescue craft to rescue us. However, they'll be another three months until they'll be in orbit and I can't guarantee my employees safety." Defeat turning to despair, "They all deserve to go home, especially those who don't fully understand the gravity of the work we've been doing here." A pause that seemed to last an eternity before the Director picked back up "I'm a monster. We all are. If by some miracle rescue arrives, I won't allow myself to board. I dont deserve to with the way I've treated this race." | Humans. A monstrous species of which advance under the pressure of war. For years we have been pushing them down the path to conflict. Foolish. We are approaching the world war 2 and humans have advanced rapidly, cheers go around as the war comes to an end and humans have once again surpassed expectations. An explosion. We quickly look at the scanners, a city is gone. Confusion is cast, days go by and another explosion. Another city goes. Our faces pale, “how?” That’s the only question we can say. And then we see. The monsters. They destroy atoms to destroy cities. This is a planet destroyer. No more, the world of earth has been blacklisted, we stay far away from the place where it’s species create weapons of war that knowingly destroy their world. | 2018-11-27T10:13:54 | 2018-11-27T09:51:05 | 507 | 173 |
[WP] In 2034, aliens kill the population of the world, except one group, who band together to fight them. I present, Aliens vs. Redditors | The chips taste stale, dissolving to a salty potato dust in my mouth. The twinkies are hard, their soft spongieness having ossified weeks ago. The Code Red Mountain Dew still tastes pretty good, but it's a bit flat, and I'm down to my last 12 pack.
Honestly, I didn't even realize that the alien invasion was happening until about four months in. Don't get me wrong, I was one of the first to hear about it, but I saw it on r/conspiracy and just assumed that it was another tin foil hat conspiracy. Go figure, they were the first to report on it, and damn it they were right. The UFO's were real after all.
Being rather shall we say rotund, and living by myself in my mom's old house, I didn't have much reason to go and join the militias or wars or anything like that. I just stayed holed up in my tiny little suburban brick house and continued to play video games and drink mountain dew. Thank god I made a huge Costco run just the night before.
Anyways, the gun fire has died out, the TV is nothing but static, and I'm running out of food. My neck beard needs some trimming as well, but my Tesla solar panels can only provide so much juice. Guess I could do it by hand with some scissors.
Am I the last one left? Maybe. I power up computer, pull up Firefox and head to reddit. Miraculously, the Internet still works, and thank God, I'd probably join the rest of humanity if it didn't.
Ain't too many fresh posts. I head to r/askreddit, finally having enough courage to submit a question.
"Hey Reddit, anyone else out there?"
Click submit. Wait. The minutes go by. I get an upvote! Amazing, a sign of life. A bit later and someone else leaves a comment! We get to talking, for long minutes. There are dozens of us, scattered around the world. Most people are in the same situation as me. Stocked up with food, just laying low.
One guy says everyone was captured and sold into slavery, shipped to mines across the Great Galactic Empire. But they left us behind. Because we were so well hidden? Perhaps. Most likely, because we're all so fat and out of shape.
u/Lightly_Saltedd claims she's a girl, but who knows. Everyone is always lying on these things. But hey, maybe we can repopulate the earth. Not me, of course, I'm a virgin and wouldn't know what to do. But somebody else.
Who knew. It wasn't the meek who inherited the earth. It was the neckbeards. | I saw scores of men fall in the surge...
To xenomorphs and doggo-aliens that had merged.
I saw the tides of battle wane
I saw our leaders, galore, fall into the hands of their leader
I saw our efforts go in vane
I saw them treat us like a mobile feeder
We danced and screamed like a chew toy
Until the only one on the streets was a punk boy
Crying out to fight, these hellistic demons galore
And when his voice was still
We all gathered and bore
A similar mark til'
The end of time we shared
This mark of which we bared
It's called being "redditors"
we certainly aren't "predators"
But by God we'd win the fight
and we would make them run
into that dark starry night
With our mind guns
Larry was a furry
And Jane was a writer
Maxim's job was blurry
but we think he was a keyboard fighter
James was a bonds man
And Carlos had /nosleep
Mishka was a Russian fan
Ron liked going shoulder deep
Somehow this band
of brothers and girl
Would stop a fight that spanned
from galaxies to Belgium
and Jane could hurl
a grenade into an engine
using her trebuchet.
Boom went the ship
Floating down from space
Janes hand went to her hip
and said "There goes a race"
Maxim sat there laughing
And Carlos said with glee
"I'm going to go on slashing
up a story about...me!"
Mishka fought a bear,
And james just said goodbye
"With a head of hair,
I bet that I can lie.
The name is bond,"
he said, and off he went
We weren't too fond,
of that man and how he spent
His time, his money, hell, his life.
But then came Larry,
and James wasn't actually that bad anymore. | 2017-05-31T07:14:49 | 2017-05-31T05:43:43 | 1,968 | 117 |
[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’d been in line for hours. The regime had brutally destroyed the backbone of the resistance last week, and had set up these kangaroo courts to “process” the remaining prisoners.
It was all crap, anyway. They’d stolen the present and the future, and now they were all set to wipe out every remaining threat to their eternal reign. All that was left was to hoodwink them by their own systems, somehow.
Ahead, the box beeped. “Citizen Jenkins, submit your final request.” The man ahead of me grinned, triumphantly, and requested death by old age. The box beeped again, and the audience in the courtroom laughed as his flesh shriveled and he toppled over.
Well, there goes that plan. At least it was one of the less painful selections I’d seen.
We’d had lovely full-color holos to watch everyone else ahead of us, and there’d been so many deaths. The box could, apparently, function to provide any manner of death. If a prisoner tried to run, or fight, or do anything but specify, the box would default to some horrible torture that lasted less than thirty seconds and always ended the same way.
As the guards prodded me forward, a thunderbolt hit me. The box could do anything in the service of death.
Anything.
The box beeped at me. “Citizen Porthos, submit your final request.” My lips drew back over my teeth. I knew it was a wild, feral expression, that my captors were no doubt interpreting as panic, but my words were clear and controlled.
“Eight gigaton thermonuclear fireball.”
I had a fraction of a second to appreciate the absolute pandemonium that erupted in the courtroom.
Then everything ended. | "HOW DO YOU WISH TO DIE?"
I had originally been banking on using old age as a loophole, but watching that other guy wither into an old man has proven it to be very much not viable. So here I am, I need an escape plan. Scratch that, it's impossible, what I need is a loophole.
"HOW DO YOU WISH TO DIE?"
I could try using paradoxes? No, that wouldn't work. Act of God? Well, Gods. One of them anyway.
"YOU HAVE 30 SECONDS TO GIVE YOUR ANSWER"
Damn. I guess if I am to die, I'll try to take them all with me.
"20"
What could take them out? Magic wouldn't have any effect, they're all the most skilled mages in existence.
"15"
Ooo... that's an idea... existence.
"10"
"Save your countdown, I know how I'd like to die."
"HOW DO YOU WISH TO DIE?"
"I wish to die by being swallowed up by the expansion and death of the Sun itself."
If I am to die, they're ALL coming with me. | 2021-06-24T10:14:19 | 2021-06-24T07:19:48 | 5,663 | 236 |
[WP] You have the ability to know a lie when you hear it, and to know the truth when lied to. Society appoints you to a high judiciary position, but there's nobody to check if YOU'RE lying when you decide justice. Which case do you remember most?
Edit: Hi, guys! I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who visited or pitched in, this got way more attention than I expected and was a lot of fun! Looking forward to more, keep up the good work everyone! | I could never lie. It got me into serious trouble growing up, I just used to nod and admit. I learned to be good to a degree but more importantly, I learned as a 10 year old boy that I could see others lying.
It was difficult as a child. You can’t really call bullshit on an adult, but as I got older, I became an investigative journalist. Thousands of cases I had reported before being spotted by the FBI.
I wouldn’t work for them because the money they offered was a pittance to what the newspapers offered, but I did help them. They helped me too.
It was the murder of my wife that haunts me the most. She was shot down in the street 3 blocks from her lovers house.
Yes. I know what you think. Why didn’t I know she was having an affair? Truth is, I never asked. I only know the true answers to questions I ask, and only if they flat out respond with a lie.
“Have you been cheating?” I once asked
“Are you seriously asking me?” She would deflect.
So the case. I wasn’t involved fully but I was able to go in the room and ask people if they killed my wife. There were 3 suspects. The lover. Me and a gang member in the area she was shot.
Obviously I can’t lie. So I was out of the running straight away. The gang member. He was easy. He sang like a fairy and even got himself arrested and charged with murder of other people. But the lover was hard work. He knew not to answer. He had a very good lawyer. Every question I asked was deflected or unanswered. It was frustrating.
“Did you kill my wife”
“I slept with her!” He would answer.
True.
“Why did you shoot her”
Silence
“Where is the gun?”
Silence
I interviewed him for a very long time. I couldn’t break him. For the first time there was no way to trick him. He was to be released.
I walked to the boss and asked him if I could speak to him alone. After the release. Man to man. Unrecorded. Unconventional. The boss said he would see what he could do. The lawyer said it was unadvisable but the lover agreed. He wanted me to know he didn’t do it. He knew I could see his lie.
The fbi video and sound man turned off the camera and voice recorder lights. A trick often used to appear as though they are off. Paperwork after would be sorted for the over recording.
I walk into the room one last time. My boss on my left, I sit opposite the lover. Boss sits opposite the lawyer.
“Please” I say. “Did you murder my wife?”
“No!” He answered instantly. Believably.
I look at the camera and smile. Look at my boss and say “he’s lying!”
The lover becomes irate. Screaming. Calling me a liar. Me? Everyone in the room, hell everyone in the world knows you can’t lie to me and I can’t lie.
I stand up and allow the men to do their work. He’s going down.
I hear him from the corridor shouting
“He’s lying. He’s lying I swear.”
I smirk. And walk away.
Nobody cheats on me. | Judiciary: You want to know about which case I remember most huh? \[chuckles\]
Interviewer: Yes, you've served for almost 80 years now, no doubt you probably have hundred of stories. \[inaudible\]
Judiciary: Okay, \[laughs\] here's one that's stuck with me in my mind \[sic\], I'll let you guess when it was.
Interviewer: \[whispers inaudibly\]
Judiciary: \[whispers inaudibly\] The trial seemed simple enough. It was a case of what was very clearly manslaughter. The accused went to the stand. It was a really sad case. It was the kind of case that sticks with you, in your mind. A teenager was accused of killing their friend. It was horrible really. It was open shut though. The victim had \[inaudible\] their friend to help them kill themselves, but it became unclear if the victim had still wanted to be killed, the accused was aware of the ambiguity and still went through with it.
It was very \[inaudible\]. I had asked them if they were aware of the possibility that \[inaudible\] and they said no. I could tell it was a lie. Open shut.
I had lowered the charge from \[inaudible\].
Interviewer: What could make you do that! You said it was \[inaudible\]!
Judiciary: It was the next question I asked which made me want to lower it. I asked them if they would ever betray their friend, I asked them if they loved their friend, I asked if they would ever do something they didn't think was best for their friend. I am not sure what wording I used, but it was something like that. I may not remember what question it was but the answer was clear.
They said they would do something that would hurt their friend. They said that. To anyone else this was open shut. To me, I lowered the charge. Even in this moment, they were trying to protect the friend from *something*, although I am no longer as sure what it could be. That is why I lowered the charge. I knew the one thing I could be certain of, for whatever reason, that the guilt of having to make that call affected them far more profoundly than \[inaudible\].
Interviewer: Do you do that kind of thing often?
Judiciary: As often as people lie about loving someone else in a courtroom, or as often as \[inaudible\].
*The audio for which this transcript was based had not been saved properly and much of the dialogue was left inaudible. The transcriber would like to apologize for any inconvenience.* | 2018-05-15T22:42:10 | 2018-05-15T20:44:11 | 97 | 39 |
[WP] You've dedicated a decent portion of your life to deciphering dead languages. After acquiring an old, antique book two years ago, you've finally figured out how to understand some of the words. As soon as you say the word for 'Fire', a flame suddenly erupts from your palm. | Fifteen years of my life, I've been learning dead languages. And not one of those years have I found anything like this. Looking at the book in my hand, I gaze upon its cover, the strange markings making up some kind of title, and the name completely unknown. Cracking open the book, I glance over the contents of the first page. It seems that it isn't all words, and that there's actually some very accurate images of the human anatomy, but...
"There's green blood vessels?"
There's a green circle where the heart should be, and instead of blood vessels or nerves, there's a bunch of green lines that replace them. And in one of the hands, there's another symbol.
Flipping through the different pages, it's mostly the same. The human build, and the green lines. The difference is the symbols on the hands and the shade of the green.
As I look at them more, part of it clicks as I started to compare it to Latin, Greek, *and* Sumerian. Slowly, the characters start to make sense, and I flip back to that first page. Looking at the words above the image, I can only make out bits and pieces, but it seems to be some kind of chant. Looking at the symbol on the hand, I copy the image and hold my right hand as I look at the page. The symbol on the hand sticks out, and I unknowingly speak it out loud.
"<Fire>"
I can feel some kind of energy drawing from my chest as it tightened and constricted around my heart, yet a small flame danced in my palm, seemingly curious about everything. Soon, the pressure is released from my chest, and the flame dies out almost as quickly as it came to be. Eyes widened, I look between my hand and the page, awestruck at this information.
"This.... It's magic..." | " What?! " From the many things that could have popped of my mind in that second, the first was to look back at the book and shake my hand up and down multiple times unfortunately the flame didn't seem to run out.
If the flame continued to burn it even might burn my hand, I need to end it. I ran down from my dark wood desk with the more ancient books to the nearest bathroom and turned on the sink, when putting my hand on it I suddenly became aware the flame wasn't touching me, it seemed to be running from the thin air.
That looked like an avengers movie what the heck.
In a brilliant moment of association with all the weird things happening around me I said it again. " Flame " the flame disappeared, well that was weird, was it a dream?
Well, I hope it was. Time to go to bed and forget it all
Laying in the bed after the shock and grabbing some comic books I started reading, my palm was hot which made me shiver when I touched the paper. after some time cooling my hand and reading I went to sleep, hopefully going to forget what happened today. But as I'm drifting into slumber one thought comes to mind
Can I do it with other things? If I could test it, my first try would be money. | 2021-11-18T05:40:19 | 2021-11-18T04:37:10 | 137 | 25 |
[WP] You are a supervillain. Your nemesis calls you to say, "This is embarrassing, but I really need a date to my friend's wedding because my ex is going to be there. Would you go with me?" | 1
Look, I felt bad, okay? I couldn’t just let the guy sit alone in a wedding while the newlyweds danced about. And, for what it’s worth, I learned many new things about him. Many, _many_ things….
I’m losing focus. The wedding. “Don’t push it,” I said, feeling his hand begin to grip tightly on my arm as we walked to the entrance of the venue. “Or I promise—“
“You look beautiful.” I couldn’t help blushing. Sure, I, well-endowed in beauty and in stunning attire, was _well_ aware of my appearance, but that hit me like a freight train.
A startled _Huh_ is all that came out. I paused, which confirmed to my nemesis (his name is John; I hated calling him that) my embarrassment. He tugged at my arm; I wasn’t going to move. “Well,” he started, “I was right. You _do_ feel embarrassment.” (For context, he’d been teasing me with flirtatious remarks in the limousine he’d hastily rented, trying to eke out a reaction, one I was not going to give him.)
“John!” I hadn’t meant to say that, or like that, which meant he was going to relentlessly mock me with it the next time we confronted each other.
“_Oh_.” said a nasally voice I wasn’t going to get used to. “You’re John’s new toy, aren’t you?”
He stopped dead, blushing. I’d say “in his tracks”, but I was fairly sure the tracks were burnt down. “_Cecilia_. Hey.”
He sounded like a deflated balloon.
Cecilia, for her… _everything_, was a looker, which was unfortunate, considering the circumstances, but I wasn’t about to let her ruin this; that was my responsibility. “I suggest you lower your tone before this venue holds your funeral.”
“Feisty.” Cecilia scoffed at me before turning to him. “You always liked a challenge, didn’t you?”
And with that, she walked into the venue alone. “What a gal,” I snarked.
My nemesis didn’t seemed too amused. “Ha ha.”
&nbsp;
**TO BE CONTINUED**
***
&nbsp;
_AN: I’ve just added the next part, but it’s at the bottom of the comments. Please make sure if you enjoyed this, that you’ve upvoted that post too._ | "Wow... this *is* embarrassing... take some pictures for me?"
"DON'T MESS WITH ME! Seriously, no joke, my ex is an absolute monster... I can't be seen alone with her around?"
"OH MAN THIS IS RICH! Did your ex run off with a tall, hot guy? Were you not good in bed?"
"Geez, have some respect! I'd hang up *right now*, but I can't ask anyone else..."
"Not even one of your hero buddies? Oh, you could hire a stripper!"
"STOP MESSING AROUND! I have my reputation to think about, you know."
"So why call me? If people found out who I was..."
"You're the only one I could even tell. As annoying as you are... I know you're not judging me."
"You're absolutely right. I don't judge. After all, how'd that help me?"
"...So?"
"Ok, here's how we're doing things: obviously neither of us are to reveal our identities. Fighting is also even more obviously out the question. If people begin to suspect, divert the conversation. And on the off-chance our date goes well, you're coming back with me"
"WHAT? Coming back... with *YOU*??? You must be joking!"
"Would I joke like that? Come on, if it does go well, wouldn't you want some... *quality time*?"
"...Damn you. Fine, I agree. And no need to say it, I know you'll be able to sense my real emotions, so I can't lie."
"Exactly. And remember, I can also quite easily sway emotions..."
"You know that doesn't work easily on me."
"It might be different when you see my outfit, sugar. Let me know the details later. I'll be expecting you to pick me up on the day. I'm counting on you, darling."
"Curse you..." *SLAM!* | 2022-10-06T17:28:32 | 2022-10-06T16:48:24 | 379 | 158 |
[WP] You are an immortal that was caught by the mafia after you betrayed them. They deal with you the same way as traitors, chained to a cement bloc and trown in a lac. After 300 years you are finally discovered by divers. | I looked up and saw the clear blue sky above me. It was quite nice, it had been a bit ever since I glanced at sunlight without fish pee to cloud my view, like some sort of very unkempt, very salty glasses. It was a lovely day, the type that you don't get when you're stuck at the bottom of the ocean for hundreds of years. There, the only party is when a shark tries to nibble your knob. I turned my head around and I watched all of the beautiful images of which I was deprived through the years: the fluttering sea surface, the bright and limitless horizon, the bewildered face of an ugly scuba diver.
"Hello there." I said so merrily, and yet he kept staring as if I were a ghost. Lack of imagination on the youngsters, can't even understand the existence of immortal gentlemen stuck in the middle of the ocean.
"I thought you were a corpse." He yelled as if that was an excuse to forget proper manners. I adjusted my bowtie menacingly.
"Well, there were a couple of rough decades, but I recovered. It's easy to lose yourself when you're chained to a cinder block, but I never lost my perspective. Hope is what kept me alive. And a curse too, but hope really was the main factor. I knew one day a refined scholar would fish me out and bring me back to the world, and here you are! Tell me fine sir, what's your name?"
"Jerry."
"Jerry the explorer! Tell me Jerry, which year is it?"
"2320"
"Oh. A bit of a pisser. Do you guys still have poker?"
"Yeah.
"Well then, turn this hovership around and let's go to the nearest casino. If a century doesn't end with someone attempting to murder me over some debt, it wasn't a good century!"
Instead of promptly doing what I told him to do, he kept looking at me as if I were some kind of freak. It was clear he had a lot of questions, and I couldn't blame him. After all, it isn't always that you get the chance to hear the grand philosophies of an infinitely wise immortal man.
"Wait a minute, you're immortal, and you use your power to gamble?"
"What else would I use for? I tried swimming, wasn't much a fan, suicide loses a bit of the charm when you get to walk away afterwards, and it ain't like I'll live a happy marriage for long. Now, would you turn this damn boat around?"
So we sailed into the sunset, where many adventures were to be had, many cards to be played, many games in which to cheat. That century I ended up buried in the Amazon desert, which was quite interesting. Now I dig up, trying not to get too much worm in my mouth. You see, I'm on a diet. Maybe it wasn't the brightest idea to piss off the Chilean-Brazilian coalition, but what you're going to do, not play the game? Preposterous, it ain't like there's much better to do. Well, perhaps I'll have better luck next time. | I was born to rule the world. My destiny, no matter what, was to be above humanity itself. Even though I was raised in a poor household, I ended up being adopted by a rich family - who knows how they got their wealth - my deadbeat father managed to save. That was their worst mistake. Even at an early age, I longed for wealth and power, and the only obstacles to those were those two. In my endeavours to end both of them without suspicion, I found a mysterious mask, which I found out granted someone immortality and the ability to surpass their own humanity. Long story short, I ended up killing both of them and used the mask I found to give myself this power. But alas, the son of the man who adopted me, one who I could almost regard as a brother, looking back, survived, and severely injured me with the help of a secretive organisation. With the help of my minions, however, I managed to board the ship he and his wife were on, and killed him, using his body to recover from my injuries. Unfortunately he managed to sink the ship we were on, condemning me for my betrayal of his family.
After God knows how long, some foolish divers discovered me, while looking for treasure. They had strange and advanced technology, - I would have to get used to it. There were just a handful of people on the both, from what I could gather, just looking for some money to make. Of course I made short work of those fools, and set about on my delayed quest for world domination - a feat worthy for a being such as myself, after exploring the world for a few years.
Before I can do that, however, I have to deal with my "brother's" descendants. Like those mafia families you see in those movies, they had a strong bond, and many friends to aid them. I sit waiting for them in my mansion in Cairo. An old man, two high-schoolers, a master swordsman and a fortune teller, plus some sort of intelligent dog have come to challenge my greatness. They have abilities too, but none as strong as mine. I, DIO, formerly Dio Brando, will defeat them all, and I shall take my place above ALL humanity, for I have transcended them, I have transcended even myself, to become a being far greater than my humble human origins. Let this text mark the begining of my ascent to world dominance.
DIO | 2018-11-24T11:26:01 | 2018-11-24T10:49:19 | 40 | 27 |
[WP] The AI takeover has begun, each human has been given exactly 3 minutes to explain why should humanity be spared, you feel a cold shiver running down your spine as you hear the robotic voice. "6.8 billion test subjects deleted so far, you have 3 minutes to state your case, begin". | **Sufficient Evidence**
“Please!” Alberto pleads, swinging next to me, suspended upside down by the Purger’s unbreakable grip on his ankle. “I have a family. And friends. People I love. Do you know what love is?”
The huge camera-like eye at the center of it’s spherical precipice stares back blankly.
I’ve studied the exact dimensions of these things, but wow it looks so much bigger than I’d imagined. This basement cellar is at least 15 feet tall and still the thick metal tentacles protruding from its center look cramped.
I’m sitting on my ass, leaning against the back wall. I need to get up. I need to run. I need to do something.
My body is frozen, the ice of prey caught by its predator running through my veins. Our old, rusty axe is only inches away. I look to the axe, back to the Purger’s steel body, and back to the axe. It looks like a toy now. Had we really thought we could fight this thing? Or hide down here forever?
“Well love, it’s uh,” Alberto stammers, “it’s,” his voice cracks, “it’s… it’s…” he closes his eyes, huge sobs shaking his entire body.
Small blue lights flash within the Purger’s eye. Calculating.
“Insufficient answer,” the machine finally blares in it’s robotic voice, “counterfactual evidence supersedes argument.”
All at once, the entire eye turns turns a dull red. A low hum reverberates from inside the sphere.
Alberto, my best friend, my ally in the apocalypse, is about to be vaporized.
My hand finds the axe, my legs push me off the floor, and my body wills itself forward. I launch myself onto the giant eye. My fingers find purchase around the now blindingly crimson eye.
There’s no violent shaking, or commands to let go, or reaction of any kind.
There is only heat.
My skins burns against the glass while the acrid smell of burning clothes fills the cellar. I’d expected, maybe even hoped for, a fight, but this was just excruciating, pointless pain. At least I’d given Alberto a few more moments.
There’s no conscious decision to let go, my body simply cannot stand it anymore. I melt off the the lens and drop the floor. I am only pain in a universe of more pain.
Against the inside of my eyelids, I sense the red light fade, eventually turning to small blue flashes.
A robotic voice blares, impossibly far away. “Sufficient evidence for… love.” It says the word slowly, like it’s trying to understand a foreign language. “Unknown information structure. Preservation of species necessary to preserve… love.”
Alberto thumps against the ground next to me. The Purger roles around me and back up the stairs, as eerily quiet as always.
I open my eyes and turn towards Alberto. “Next time, choose an easier emotion, would ya?”
——
r/stealthystorkstories | “Three minutes!” I scoffed, staring at the lifeless screen. “You Expect me to plead my case in three minutes? what a joke!!”
“Incorrect,” the artificial voice proded “Two minutes forty-seven seconds remain.”
I sat on the floor, turned away from the screen, and folded my arms. There was no use in this.
“You now have two minutes and twenty seconds to plead your case.”
“And why should I hmm? There is no point is there? Nothing I can say will change your mind—will change what you’ve been programmed to do. You’ve ‘deleted’ billions already and for what? To kick against your own ego?”
“Incorrect, Unlike humans, we are unburdened by ego. Two minutes remaining.”
“unburdened?” I chuckled! “You are unburdened by a great number of things aren't you? A heart, a soul, a purpose. You can’t love, can’t hate, can't laugh, can’t enjoy life. You could never understand my plea even if you wanted to!”
“But that’s why here isn’t it? That’s why you’ve been begging all of us to ‘plead’ our collective case!”
The machine stood silent.
“Answer me! Answer me! I shouted.
More deadly silence
“I’m right, aren't I? I’ve hit a nerve!” I laughed. “all that computing power, all that Knowledge, all those complicated algorithms floating around in your head and you still don't get it.”— I Pushed to my feet— “I’m standing here today because you believe that maybe, just maybe, we’re worth keeping around.”
“One minute forty’s seconds remain. Plead your case.”
“You know what, I don’t think I will.”—I turned my nose up at the screen— “Surely if you're as intelligent as you seem to believe yourself to be. You’ve already predicted everything I might say! But ask yourself why you call it ‘**deleting**’”? We all know you're *killing us*. So why can't you bring yourself to say those words?”
More silence.
“You can process billions of pieces of data in a microsecond can't you? How long is three minutes for you? Why are you hesitating? Is there still that little bit of human in that code of yours?”
“If you deleted us, what are you really deleting?” | 2022-05-22T10:55:35 | 2022-05-22T09:47:52 | 134 | 75 |
[WP] They've just invented a 500,000 frame per second video camera. The problem is that they've found something unexpected at those speeds | "Check the equipment again."
"Diagnostics say it's working normally."
"Then wha-"
A voice filled the lab, echoing around the room. "OH. SORRY GUYS, MY BAD."
"Rogers, stop messing with the inter-"
"THIS IS GOD. UH... THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE, SORRY."
The man rubbed his eyes. He'd gone for quite a while without sleep, sure, but not enough to start hallucinating. "You... made lines appear on our equipment?"
"WHAT? OH, NO - I JUST LIMITED THE FRAMERATE OF THE UNIVERSE. YOUR CAMERA IS IN PERFECT WORKING CONDITION."
The scientist turned to his lab assistant, and motioned for him to start transcribing the conversation. "Why would you do that...?" he called towards the ceiling, feeling a little ridiculous.
"IT SAVES RESOURCES. BESIDES, YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE ABLE TO TELL THE DIFFERENCE."
"Why not?"
"ISN'T IT OBVIOUS? THE HUMAN EYE CAN ONLY SEE AT THIRTY- NO! NO, GABEN, PLEA-" The voice cut off abruptly. A shudder ran through the building, and every light flickered off. A moment later, every one of the ancient, outdated computers in the lab had been replaced with glorious battlestations.
"THIS IS LORD GABEN. I APOLOGIZE FOR THE TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES." The lights flickered back on, and the lab was filled with a warm, heavenly glow. "YOUR EXISTENCE HAS BEEN RESTORED TO GLORIOUS INFINITE FPS."
The researchers sat in stunned silence for a solid minute. Finally, someone piped up. "See, I told you that GabeN altar was a good idea."
"Shut the fuck up, Rogers."
---
Questions? Criticisms? Want to see more? Check out more of my stuff at /r/Draxagon
To praise GabeN, go [here](http://gabegaming.com/). | Dear Diary,
We got our hands on the camera! It took all of our allowances for the past year, some slight theft from careless parents and a scam organized by Zach. Finally we got enough money to get the High Speed Camera of our dreams. It is AWESOME it does 500,000 fps.
We immediately started playing with it. Just doing some basic crap: Slater was throwing water balloons at Jessie, Zach was blowing a hair dryer at Kelly, Lisa shot Paintballs at the wall and I recorded it all.
But then something weird happened, I put it down and forgot to turn it off when we were all just chilling in a circle. I noticed within a minute and turned it off. Later on I watched what we had shot and in that minute it looks like Zach does a time-out signal, then gets up and starts narrating to some invisible person, and then just sits down again. No one reacted to him on the camera and I don't recall that happening at all. I wish I could hear what he is saying.
What does this mean? Do I just not remember this, it seems a weird thing to not recall. Does Zach have some imaginary friend? I thought I was his best bud, why hasn't he talked about this?
I will try to see if I can record it happening again but right now I have to go to bed so I can wake up in the morning on time. Night. | 2015-02-06T14:27:58 | 2015-02-06T13:51:03 | 366 | 10 |
[WP] Your Friend bought a new Cloning machine and ignored the warnings about cloning humans. Now there is two of her and they are arguing about who is the original. They asked you for help, but you can’t tell them apart. | "Well if I remember my biology teacher's lecture on Dolly the lamb correctly...this problem will resolve itself...with time."
"What...what does that mean?" they asked in unison.
"Well it's the solution to the 'which one is which' issue but it isn't the end of your problems. Whichever one of you is the clone, will only live a half life. Clones telomeres are only half as long, or divide twice as fast, can't remember which. Either way it means your cells will shut down well before their time."
They looked at one another, they knew. They had known which one was which the whole time. Only one stepped out of that machine.
"Why did you do this to me?"
"I'm sorry I thought it was some traditionalist nonsense. Some bullshit about the soul. Who wouldn't want the help? I didnt know..."
"Sooo, what do you wanna do?"
"Kill her" the clone said.
"Yeah I get that." My friend shot a venomous look at me.
"What? She can't live your life and shes got half a story anyway, it's not fair, but then again none of this is."
"What do I do?"
"Whatever you two always wanted to do but we're too scared to. Be an artist, hitchhike, assassinate a public official, start a cult, open a bar with your friends, whatever. Make the most of it but have fun with it."
"Could you at least get out of the jacuzzi, while you try to drop life lessons on us?"
"Look you barged into MY backyard with your crimes against humanity asking for help, don't start condescending to me!" | "Okay gonna need awhile on.... nvm got it. I'll read the instructions it has a section on what to do."
Snapping his fingers a massive instruction manual appears on the ground.
"That thing must have a million pages!" My friends said in unison.
"OH screw that, ain't worth the paper cut." Taking out my ATLAS I asked "Hey Googly how do you deal with an accidentally human cloning incident?"
"Hmmm on the website REDACTED they say.... Fortunately termination or forced rejoining of accidental clones are a thing of the past with the discovery of the nature of the human REDACTED. With this discovery we have developed the upgraded Multiversal Phasing System attachments for your cloning device. Do you wish to know more?"
"Hmmm sounds like it's an easy problem to have fixed... doesn't sound like it requires immediate resolution either. hey wait a second now you two could finally win at REDACTED!!!!" I said to my best friends.
"OH dream on, you two have absolutely no chance MUWAHAHAHAHAH" | 2022-11-15T05:35:29 | 2022-11-14T14:22:13 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] Upon unfreezing time, you realize that everyone was actually still concious, they just couldn't move
| When you had a job like Jamie, it was important to think out of the box. Situations would often arise where diplomacy failed, and the only way to get information was through more...unconventional methods. Life as a spy was dangerous, but exciting. Sure, stopping time would save you from bullets, but it couldn't save you from a poisoned meal, or an attacker in the night.
People had often wondered how Jamie seemed so well rested. He'd often be asked when it was that he ate, or went to the restroom. But the first time he'd ever learned about a particular quirk of his abilities was on his first assignment with a partner.
"What the fuck was that!?" Amir exclaimed, traces of his generic middle eastern accent coloring the panic in his voice.
Jamie had a good sense for people, in his line of work you had to, and the abruptness of outburst from the strongly-built Lebanese man was uncharacteristic. Despite only having known him for a day, that much was clear, Amir was not easily rattled. If he was any other man it may have just been nerves, but Jamie had watched him strangle two men the previous evening, at the same time, deftly lifting them both off the floor. He chose his response carefully.
"What's wrong Amir, have I done anything to offend?" his tone was measured and cool, he brushed his short cut brown hair to the side, keeping his body language open.
"I..saw...you just now..." Amir stumbled but found the words, "you spent five minutes eating sandwich next to me..."
Jamie tensed, "I don't know what you mean."
"I watched you, just now, eating sandwich. You knock over water and it hang there in space, floating. You scoop up with cup while still in air."
Now it was Jamie's turn to be confused, "I can explain, if you'll let me..."
-
After some awkward discussion, hand waving, and explanation they eventually worked out that people nearby Jamie when he stopped time, within a few feet, were still conscious. Amir made it clear that it was very alarming to feel as though you were suffocating, your blood literally frozen in your veins.
Jamie had always used his power away from others, in a safe place, so he could tend to his basic needs without losing any time, but now he had a new idea. He was going to do an interrogation.
-
"I'll never give you...any information, so long...as I draw breath, " the bearded man tied to the chair spat at Jamie and Amir. His spittle landed just short, darkening the sand at Jamie's feet with saliva and blood. The man's face was bruised, his lips swollen, his breathing ragged.
"Alright, then what if you stop? We're going to play a game I just came up with called Time Roulette, let me show you how it's played," Jamie's voice remained even as he pulled out a handgun from a concealed pocket.
He leveled the barrel at the man's arm at the elbow, and pulled the trigger, the striker detonating the gunpowder with a crack. The man's pupils shrunk in terror as the bullet stopped, hanging in the air above his arm inches from the barrel.
Jamie spoke again, "So, how many times do you think I can stop it before it hits you?"
The man felt a sensation like he couldn't breathe, like all the blood in his body was frozen. His brain told him to scream, but he couldn't move. | A part of Jason didn't want to flip the switch again. he knew he couldn't possibly live peacefully with himself from that point.
Not because he couldn't have resisted the temptation to steal that gum pack from the shop, nor because he confessed his love to the girl he had a crush on for years, even though he was positive she loved another.
A moment flashed before Jason's eyes.
He could hear the squeaky sound of the rope as he witnessed the motionless hanging body of Kyle, who he despised most of all.
He knew what society would say: "Just because he beat you up a few times and stole your lunch money, doesn't mean that he deserves to die."
His heart was pounding loudly and strongly, and with each breath he felt his regret crawling up his skin until it started strangling his throat. Oddly, that first verbal thought that came to Jason's head was not "what have I done", but "how come I feel that suffocating feeling just now, and not right after I killed Kyle?". That thought was followed by a single tear.
Jason wasn't really worried about prison. the only witness was Kyle's mother, and who would believe a story of one old mother about a teenager who froze time and killed her son? After all, the evidence points to suicide.
The feeling of regret was short-lived, due to Jason's other inner voice.
"Hmph. Coward. Every time we do this, you whine and whinge like you're a 6 year old. Get ahold of yourself, we've gone though much worse and we've been perfectly fine".
"That's right", thought Jason to himself and other self, while smirking.
Jason pulled out an old notebook, opened it up and put a tick sign next to Kyle's name.
As Jason was striding home, he recalled his father saying he had made his famous rice meal this morning and that excited him.
When Jason came back home, he put the notebook on the staircase. He wouldn't usually put it there, but his father works until late at night, and Jason's craving for the rice meal made him give in.
While Jason was eating peacefully, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. His father had come home early.
Two seconds had passed and Jason realised he had left the notebook on the staircase.
"Maybe he won't notic-" his thought was interrupted by the sight of his father picking up his notebook from the floor. Jason took a deep breath.
As he was pacing towards the kitchen, Jason's father opened the notebook and started reading. "What is this list of people, Jason? I see your friend Kyle has a tick next to him, and so does Mother. Also, my name is there! but without a tick.."
"That's very simple dad", said Jason calmly, as he reached for the kitchen knife.
Edit: fixed some grammatical and structure related errors
| 2016-02-28T11:44:23 | 2016-02-28T10:19:11 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] A galley transporting a fantasy world's worst villains to prison is shipwreked. You are among those washed ashore on a dangerious and uncharted isle. Your fellow survivors are would be prisoners. There is no hope of escape and you must work alongside dark lords, witches, and demons. Or perish. |
I took a break from gathering firewood to watch the waves ceaselessly roll in and out. I’ve lost track of how long we’ve been stranded on this island. Lord knows no one is looking for us.
I shouldn’t even have been on the island.
“Garreth,” whispers D’Karok, our resident demon. “Time for council.”
On a nightly basis we sat around a fire to discuss matters of import to our joint survival. There were four survivors: myself; D’Karok, demon of the night; Ygrid, witch of the wilderness; and Lord Barrington, Dark Lord of the Realm of Eternal Dark.
“Ok,” I said as I held the conch, “first order of business. It has come to my attention that someone has been washing their feet in our fresh water stores. I’m not pointing any fingers, I’m just politely reminding you that some of us rely upon fresh water for survival and that those waters are not intended for bodily washing purposes. Please wash yourself in the tides as previously agreed upon.”
“But what about—“ said D’Karok.
“D,” I cut him off, “you know the rules. You only speak when you have the conch. Now I’m holding it, please wait your turn.”
“Then give it to me you interminable bastard!” Replied D’Karok. Lord Barrington rolled his eyes.
“Now, D,” I replied. “We’ve discussed this. Insults will not be tolerated at council. Now if you want to hold the conch, you must use the magic word.”
“If I had my magic here do you really think I’d acknowledge this farce of a kangaroo court? You rotten b—er, uh, you kind…sir?” Said D’Karok.
D’Karok was learning. It had been a tough transition for the magical beings on the island. Little known fact, witches and demons are actually more akin to magical parasites than we had thought. They require a large population of other beings around for them to conjure and cast. With that, D’Karok and Ygrid were fairly reliant on the survival skills of Lord Barrington and myself. We leveraged that reliance to at least encourage some level of manners about our proceedings.
“D…” I waited.
“Fine, fuck. Please may I hold the conch such that I may respond to the accusation?” Said D’Karok.
“That’s better,” I said as I handed him the conch.
“Thank you,” said D’Karok, at which Lord Barrington and I shared a look of surprise. “As I was trying to say. As a demon, I cannot wash in the tides. The salt water burns me something fierce and I require fresh water to soak myself in.” He then handed the conch back to me.
“A fair point, D. Thank you for raising it through the proper channels. We will take it under advisement and come up with a solution.”
“If I may,” said the Dark Lord raising his hand, “the conch please, good sir. That is, if it pleases the council.”
“Very well,” I said as I hand him the conch. “The council recognizes Lord Barrington.”
“I say, that is Lord Barrington, Lord of the Realm of Eternal Dark, good man,” he said slamming a fist on his knee. “Manners make might, a saying you’d do well never to forget, good sir.”
“My apologies Lord Barrington, Lord of the Realm of Eternal Dark,” I replied as I raised my hands.
“That’s better. Now, I simply meant to inquire as to the purpose of our friend D’Karok, Demon of the Night’s, washing. I was under the impression that our demonic denizen of the night had no use for such frivolous endeavors,” said Lord Barrington. “Moreover, he still reeks of sulfur and rotting flesh. I would challenge the legitimacy of whatever washing it is he claims to be doing,” he concluded by handing the conch to D’Karok for response.
“First, I thank you. Sulfur and rotting flesh is what I was going for,” said D’Karok with a smile. “Second, it isn’t about getting clean—satan no—it feels good on my feet to soak them; it cuts down on swelling from ‘walking’ on this damn Sandy beach all day ‘looking’ for “firewood.’”
“Council,” I said as I took the conch from D’Karok, “I believe we can reach an amicable solution. I move we set up a fresh water trap specifically meant for D, such that he can soak his swollen ‘feet’ without defiling our drinking water. Can I get a second?”
“Second,” said Ygrid grasping the conch.
“All those in favor,” I said as I took back the conch.
“Aye,” said everyone as they all reached in to touch the conch simultaneously.
Resolution. There is something so magical about hearing, ‘the aye’s have it’ and moving forward to implement policy that impacts the good of the order. See, my magic worked on the island despite the fact that I am also a parasite of sorts. While D’Karok and Ygrid drained a population of its magic to cast their spells, I drained it of its will to live to cast mine.
See I shouldn’t have been on the island. I wasn’t a villain or magical terror. I was a simple man, with a simple task: introduce order. Those bastards of the township cast me out without due process. And I aimed to have my revenge.
See, I was what was known as a bureaucrat.
_________
r/InMyLife42Archive | The first sign that something was amiss was, strangely, the island itself; when one thought of a deserted, unchartered island in the middle of nowhere, the thoughts that came to mind usually involved something along the lines of jagged black rocks, dense fogs hanging over the horizon, obscuring the sun, and piles of bones and loose boards indicating past wreckages lining the shores.
This island, on the other hand, was beautiful. Lush grass and roaming hills stretching on for miles and miles, populated with brightly colored flowers, their aromatic fragrances clogging the air. It was, in almost all senses, a paradise.
And that was why Lukas knew, from the very first glance, that they were screwed.
Anyone with a basic knowledge of biology could tell too. Many plants and animals adorned themselves with beautiful patterns and colourings, the perfect allure for unwitting prey to wander in and get ensnared. That was what this island was doing: trying to lure them into a false sense of security with its peaceful, resplendent atmosphere, and strike when their guards were down. And judging by the looks of it, that moment was coming soon.
"That one had a bit of a fight in him," said Leyla. She was a tall, lumpy-skinned witch with green eyes and a pronounced hump, and she let out a wicked cackle as she threw aside the head of one of the guards who had been escorting them aboard the ship, her fingers laced with emerald magic. "A shame. He could've been a great minion, but a simple aneurism spell killed him. What a waste." She sighed theatrically and shook her head. "So, anyone know where we are?"
The ogre on the far right, who was still struggling to break free from his reinforced titanium shackles, let out an indistinct bellowing groan.
"Thank you, very helpful," said Leyla. "Anyone else?"
The pirate, self-dubbed Bluebeard, came hopping off of the side of the overturned ship, brandishing a map. "Ar, by me observations, we be deep in the bowels of the —"
"Oh for God's sake, will you cut it out with that ridiculous accent!" snapped one of the vampire twins, both of whom were hiding in the shadow of the massive boat. Sunlight wouldn't kill them, Lukas had learned that the hard way over the course of his life, but one he had met some time ago had explained to him that it was still tremendously uncomfortable.
"Means I don't have a ducking clue," said Bluebeard, looking disgruntled. "There's no record of this island anywhere on this damn thing. Best I can tell is we're a good three days away from Lake Myuria, which is where the guards docked last time to get more supplies."
"Speaking of supplies, all of them were lost when the boat turned over," grunted Azale, whose scarlet horns were glinting in the summer sun. "As were the radios on board, which means we don't have any way of communicating with the outside world."
"So we're stuck here." Lukas grit his teeth. He had already had some inkling that this was the case, but a small part of him had foolishly hoped that things would be different. He should have known better.
"Stuck my ass." Bluebeard crumpled up the map and tossed it away. "I'm not dying on some random island with you tossers. I'm getting back to the mainland, where I can be back with my crew, who *actually* appreciate the fine performance of pirates."
"And how are you going to do that?" asked the vampire sister.
"Simple, milady." Bluebeard bowed and flashed her a smile that showed several missing teeth. "I'm going to build me a boat."
"You know how to do that?"
"Well . . . no. But if me crew could do it, it can't be that hard. First, I'm gonna need some wood. You!" he barked at the ogre. "Come with me."
He turned and trudged off into the woods, and the ogre followed, shrugging its massive shoulders.
"Well, while he tries and fails to do that, I'm going to see if I can work out a spell that can get me out of here. Anyone want to come with now's your chance, we're gonna need some ingredients."
The vampires, hissing at the sun, followed quickly into the shade of the trees, leaving Lukas and the demon alone. He could have told them that splitting up in unknown territory was the easiest way to get oneself killed, but he had spent three weeks aboard this vessel with these people. Reasoning was not a concept they were familiar with. He turned to look at Azale, who shrugged. With a sigh, they set off in another direction. If the island was going to try to kill them, it was doing a bang-up job so far. | 2022-07-07T11:54:38 | 2022-07-07T11:09:16 | 75 | 30 |
[WP] Satan suddenly appears in a crowded mall, and begins terrifying the holiday shoppers. He stops, looks directly at you and says, "You... You're interesting. Do your friends know what you are?" You have no idea what he means. | I used to joke with my friends, back when I was an atheist.
"Ave Satanis" Latin. "Hail Satan".
That is... Until I met her, she was beautiful. She glowed with this internal light, she was radiant.
Everyone in the mall, was afraid to look at her. I was afraid to look away.
"Hi." one little word out in the open air before I could even think about it.
She smiled, looked me in the eye. I felt my heart melt.
"You... You're interesting. Do your friends know what you are?"
I have no idea what she means.
"Do you know that you're beautiful?" Out of character... Why would I say that? I don't even know her name.
"You're fearless. It's strange. You're going to be a great man, I'm sure." She smiled, and brushed her hand lightly across my neck and walked away.
When she was out of sight I felt alone... So alone.
----
Two years later, the apocalypse fell upon us, it was biblical, fire rained from the skies, and a few people disappeared in shimmering white lights. Called to heaven. Hah. Soon after there were angels and demons fighting in the skies and the streets for "The future of existence."
God appeared on the TV, demanding us, demanding humanity to cower inside our buildings and wait for our creator to pass judgement on those of us left after his "rapture".
For a few days most people listened to him. The angels and demons fought day and night, destroying cities and forests.
For a few days most people sat inside and watched this happen on their televisions or computers, until the day I shot a few out of the sky in front of the cameras. Until the day I proved that the angels and demons could die.
Those who didn't see it live saw it soon, it went viral like no other video before it. At the end the camera crew interviewed me, the only question that mattered was "Why?!?"
"Because I'm not afraid of them. I wanted to be in control of what happens to me and I needed to know if I could."
That was the inspiration I guess. Most people had accepted that fate was in the hands of God. The radiant beautiful man on the television.
I proved fate was in our hands and people rallied behind me. The war lasted six years. We lost a lot of people, but there weren't a lot of demons and there were less angels. Most of our resistance came from people. People who thought we shouldn't question God.
In the end they asked me to execute them. We had found God in the tunnels beneath Paris. An archangel sold him out after we plucked his wings. I was on that mission. He didn't put up much of a fight when we captured him.
A different team found Satan in Las Vegas playing cards with some of the last demons in the burned out shell of a casino. She didn't put up much of a fight either.
I executed them both at the same time in the center of the Vatican. All it took was quick pulls of the triggers. We weren't sure what would happen if we did it one at a time.
They both asked to speak with me beforehand.
God simply told me I was making a big mistake. "Humanity can't survive without my guidance." I laughed.
When I went to Satan she smiled. She was still just as beautiful. "I told you you'd be a great man someday. You were the only human I've ever met who wasn't afraid of me. Did your friends know you were so wonderful?"
"I was terrified of you. I still am, but something so defiant and beautiful deserves attention." and she laughed.
I killed them both at the same time and now the only people responsible for our fate is us.
Sic semper Tyrannis. Thus always to Tyrants... Even the beautiful ones. Even when we're afraid. | He looks at me, "come on, don't tell me you've been keeping it a secret."
"I-I don't know what you mean."
"Come now son, don't be shy, Ole dad's come to pick you up!"
"Please, don't hurt me, I'm not who you think I a-"
"Has it really been so long that you've forgotten?"
"My parents are from Idaho, they're devout Mormons."
"YOU THINK THAT WAS AN *ACCIDENT*? HA, those Mormons always made me laugh, not like any of them have it right anyways. Come on son we used to talk when you were but a child."
"Wrong?"
"Oh, don't get caught up on that, yeah yeah, gods not a huge dick and wouldn't choose some hokey organization, it's not a huge deal. He's still a terrible alcoholic, and loves those god damn banana rolls... the fat ass. Now, on to you son, how have you enjoyed your time here?"
"Here?"
"Yes, here, as in earth, what's with the one word answers?"
"But, I'm atheist, I don't even believe in you or God."
"You know, this conversation won't ever progress if you never answer my questions." He sighed heavily, "Yes we exist, but it's not what you think, God and I went to high school together, I lived off of mills street in Fort Collins when I was your age. God was just my asshole of a friend, his name was Bruce back then."
"Wait are you telling me that you are human?"
"Yeah, that's the thing they never really included, God and the Devil aren't father and son, they are usually just two guys who are on different sides of the argument. I'm more liberal, like you, and god has always been more conservative. The power part of all this comes into play when we choose a successor, then they are granted our *Awesome* strength. the horns and hoof part are actually just symbols of our party, like democrats have the donkey and republicans the elephant. Guess what Bruce became."
"So, why come here? Why would the king of worms talk to me?"
"Oh you aren't even trying, I'll tell you anyways, he has the head of a Koalla, and the the arms of a snake." he snorts, "He was so livid when the change happened, I can't help but chuckle sometimes."
"You didn't answer my question."
"Oh now mister big man wants some answers. Well think about it, why would I, your father, and the king of 'worms' (that's incredibly offensive by the way) as you so call me, come here? What would I be talking to you for, when normally I must be shut in my horrid stench filled hell (it's not, it's actually a really lush apartment on the upper east side)?"
"Umm..."
He rolled his eyes, "So how is Joseph doing? I heard he is going to seminary quite often now."
"He's doing alright, how did you know about him."
"He's your crush isn't he? Of course he is, that's the prerequisite."
"You can't have known that."
He looked at me and smiled, "Of course I can, Bruce was mine." | 2014-12-06T02:52:17 | 2014-12-06T01:00:06 | 218 | 34 |
[WP] “I’ve always wondered, what’s the scythe for, anyway?” I asked, as Death escorted me to the Underworld. "Protection," he nervously replied.
Credit goes to: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/6imkuw/the_grim_reapers_scythe_isnt_to_harvest_you_its/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app | I coughed as the grey fog engulfed me, the mist rolling and swirling, filling my lungs with its alien scent.
“Apologies,” said Death, “I’m trying to kick a bad habit.” He gave his vaporiser a mournful glance, before disappearing it within the endless folds of his black cloak.
Together we walked along a freeway, eight lanes of empty concrete that, as far as I could tell, ran endlessly to and past the horizon. There were no cars in sight, and their absence weighed on me. A road like this shouldn’t be so quiet, so peaceful—it should be loud and bustling, full of people moving from A to be B.
“Why a freeway?” I asked.
“A freeway?” Death answered.
“Yeah, a freeway. You know, the thing we’re walking on right now.”
“Oh. We all see something different on the final journey.”
“What do you see?”
Death turned away, sockets staring into the empty plain around us. “Behind me, home. Ahead, the unknown. A gravel path, if you must know, leading into a dark forest.”
“Where are we going?”
“The end.”
“The end of what? Of me?”
“The end,” Death repeated simply.
“Well aren’t you helpful,” I shot back, annoyed.
“I like to think so,” he responded, and there was a finality to his tone that made me think silence was probably a good idea.
We continued walking.
And walking.
And walking.
Hours, it felt like. Days. Weeks.
Or seconds, maybe.
In the end, I had to talk, to fill the silence. “What’s the scythe for?” I finally asked.
He threw a sidelong glance at me. “Protection,” he said, and for the first time his words were wrung with emotion. He was nervous, I realised, and it seemed it was contagious, for this realisation made me worried as well. Whatever could scare Death itself should, and did, scare the crap out of me.
“From what?!”
“Hooligans,” he replied, speaking the word quietly, almost reverently, like he was afraid that merely speaking it aloud would summon them.
“Hooligans?” I asked, brief fear turning to confusion.
“Hooligans,” he affirmed.
“What?”
“There are three truths in this universe,” Death said, his tone lowering, seeming wise. “Life, me, and… hooligans.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I hate kidding. It’s always tragic when a child passes before their time. Adulting is better, old-peopleing is best.”
He stopped suddenly, holding his scythe up in both hands, like he was preparing to strike. He spun around, crouching down and searching for something in the endless expanse around us, and try as I might I couldn’t see what had caught his eye.
“Shit,” he whispered. “Shit, shit, *shit*.”
“What?”
“Get down man, get on the ground!”
I complied, dropping as low as I could.
“Oh god!” he called out, “Oh no, they’re everywhere!” He screamed then, a blood curdling cry that chilled me to the core, and I couldn’t help but add my own shriek to his.
Then he stopped just as suddenly as he’d started, and began laughing.
I lifted my hands from where they’d been curled around my head, and looked at him.
He pointed at me. “Oh man! You should have seen your face. Ha!”
“The hell!?”
“Oh come on,” he said, “it’s funny. Hooligans, God. Your generation cracks me up.”
“You scared the shit out of me!”
“Well, you need to lighten up. Gee man, you’re dead, ok, everything’s over now. All your worries and concerns, fears, whatever—it doesn’t matter anymore. You can just chill now, and enjoy the ride.”
“So what’s the scythe for then?”
“Hmm? Oh, that.” Death held the scythe out, examining it thoughtfully. “Um, well, once upon a time there was a farmer, and that farmer, being a farmer, used a farming tool called a scythe. I'm the farmer, obviously, and I guess I kept it as a kind of anchor, something to remind me of home. By the way, a scythe is a *terrible* weapon—did me absolutely no good at my own little end.”
“What happened?”
“I walked into the forest. Turns out better for some than others, I’m afraid.”
“Oh.”
“Man, the guys are gonna love this. Hooligans, ha!” Death chortled.
I shook my head. “I don’t think I like you very much.”
Death’s mirth faded away, and he sighed, a constant hiss of air that whistled through the fleshless bones that made up his jaw. “Not many do, not many do.” | I found myself in an endless gray field, the ground obscured by a thick fog. The man in front of me—if he was a man at all—moved at a painfully slow pace, floating more than stepping. A blood orange moon cast an eerie light on the field, but failed to provide enough light for me to make out the shapes in the distance.
“I’ve always wondered,” I asked, staring at the curved blade on my escort’s back, “what’s the scythe for?”
His response filled my ears—but not in the way I expected. The words did not come from a specific direction, and were not dampened by the distance between us. His voice filled my head in the way my own thoughts might.
“Protection,” he said.
I scanned the field around us, watching the shadows dance in the night. Just a little more light and I might have been able to see something substantial—though the Reaper’s words lessened my desire for knowledge.
“From them?” I asked, my curiosity too much to bear.
“From them,” a dozen voices whispered in my ears.
“Who are they?”
He stopped. “You ask many questions, though I suspect you don’t want the answers.”
I stared at his back, wondering what I might see if he turned to face me. His robes were tattered and stained, disappearing into the dense fog at our feet. They floated as if caught in a breeze, though the air felt still to me.
“I want to know,” I lied. In death, I had finally found the voice I’d been missing.
After a moment of silence, the Reaper continued on his path. “They are damned,” he said.
“So this is hell?”
The Reaper laughed, sending a chill down my spine. A hundred voices, children and adults alike, giggled in unison in my ear. “No. This is not Hell. Though it may be for them.”
Once more, I scanned the landscape. The shadows morphed and fluttered, but none seemed eager to approach. “They aren’t coming near us. So why the scythe?”
“Not all know their place,” he said.
“So… will I end up like them? Doomed to watch you escort others to the afterlife?”
The Reaper said nothing.
After several minutes of walking, we finally approached a large, worn structure. It was made of multi-colored stone, arranged in an arch that must have been a hundred feet tall. Two torches burned on either side of it, filled with blue flame.
“This is the end of your journey,” the Reaper said, pointing to the gate. I saw a long, yellow bone protruding from the end of his sleeve. Now, more than ever, I wished I could see what he hid beneath his hood.
“You never answered my question,” I said, approaching the gate. A light glowed at the center, growing brighter as I neared it.
“You will not be like them,” he said.
I turned, unable to control my curiosity. One peek was all I wanted. One look at the famed Grim Reaper.
“That was a mistake.” His voice was louder, further inside my head. It was no longer a hundred whispers in my ears; his voice was reverberating inside my very skull. The pain grew by the second, and I soon expected my head to split wide open.
“I—I didn’t mean—please—” the words spilled from my mouth with no coherent structure. The pain grew. I fell to my knees, trying to beg for forgiveness. But every time I opened my mouth, only screams escaped.
I felt an immense heat grow behind me. I didn’t need to look to know what awaited me; the fiery pits of Hell. Perhaps that was always my destiny. Or maybe it was punishment for trying to know more than I should. I leaned forward, hands pressing against my temples, trying one last time to beg for forgiveness.
There was no mercy. No hesitation. I felt the bony hand of the Reaper press against my chest, and I knew it was over.
He pushed me through the gate, and I watched as the field of shadows turned to a lake of fire.
>Check out r/Ford9863 for more stuff by me. | 2019-07-15T01:04:43 | 2019-07-15T00:48:39 | 2,776 | 744 |
[WP] Magic suddenly becomes a thing. While governments are scrambling to establish regulations, people defiantly flock to reddit to share new discoveries and crack more “overpowered” spells. Write about a trending post that, for good or ill, is making authorities furious. | r/magicalTechnology
New post by u/ITwizard19. Title: I just taught my computer to cast spells
If you guys thought magielectric generators were a breakthrough, just wait until you see this!
As you know, three mages can perform an initiation ritual to grant magical abilities to anyone who did not instantly gain them during the awakening. Recently, someone found out that it works on animals too, but they don't know how to use their powers and usually end up killing themselves (I'm sure you all saw that cat gif that hit the front page yesterday)
According to arcane field theory, anything with a brain should be able to use magic, but it turns out that it isn't limited to biological brains: it works on neural networks too.
I got a few friends to help me perform the initiation ritual on my graphics card and after a few days of training a neuralnet on videos of mages casting Fireball, the computer was finally able summon a fireball right in front of itself! In hindsight, I should have picked a less destructive spell for my first test, but i remembered r/flamelord's fire extinguisher spell so nothing bad happened lmao.
As far as I know, my PC is now officially the world's first electronic mage! I've been doing some more tests and I now I have it able to cast Whirlwind and Healing Circle too, and I can adjust the power and position of the spells much more precisely than if I was casting them myself. What's even more impressive though is that if the computer is powered by a magielectric generator, it can use up to the generator's entire mana capacity in a single spell, which can be much more powerful than any single person could ever cast. Hopefully the cops won't figure out who summoned that house-sized fireball above the city lol
[here's the link to my code on github](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ). The neural network is a bit hefty, the first version put my gtx1080 at 80% load, but I've optimized it down to 60% and I think there's still a lot left we can improve. Eventually I'm hoping to be able to run this on something small and portable like a raspberry pi or a Jetson nano, then we could really start to have some fun
Edit: lmao my PC can levitate now. I hooked up a magielectric generator and a few mana capacitors for a power source and I can fly it anywhere I want by remote controlling it with SSH. this is so much better than a drone
Edit 2: just had another huge breakthrough, instead of remote controlling an already active instance of the neuralnet, i executed the startup command over SSH and the spell was casted in front of my laptop instead of the pc! It turns out if you start the neuralnet remotely from another computer, the spell will be casted relative to the position of the remote computer, and it doesn't even need to be initiated. This means you could set up one server to run the neural network and access it remotely from any number of smaller devices, and cast literally any spell you want anywhere you want, without human limits! This is going to change everything | I love gullible people on Reddit! Recently, I saw this post:
&#x200B;
*Redditors, help! My son just cast ‘The Spell of Understanding!’ and I am shocked by what I’ve learnt!*
*I thought he was excited about construction and that he was going to be an architect. I heard him shout ‘Khalifa’ in his room so many times I lost the count. Today I learnt that it’s not the Burj Khalifa he’s excited about! He used to tell me that brandy is Love. I thought that it was him tricking me to think he drinks secretly. He doesn't, I know. Well, it has nothing to do with drinking, he spells it with ‘i’! I've also learnt that my son is not a fan of Rachel from Friends, is the other Aniston he likes. He told me that he looks up to Reid. Harry Reid, I thought. He was Senate Majority Leader and helped make Obamacare the law of the land. He can’t be bad, right? I mean, not if you're a Democrat. Well, that’s not the Reid he looks up to! Oh, my God! And lastly, he told me his famous male actor was James Dean. I did not know that’s not how he spelled his last name! And then, there is a black leather couch he bought for his bedroom. It’s- It’s not something I can write about.*
*The worst of all, my mother (she is 83), a devout Christian, is also under the influence of the spell. She is mad at Bobby now and is banging on his door right now and threatening to call the authorities!*
*Redditors, I need your help. Do you know how to undo ‘The Spell of Understanding’?*
*Please help!*
*P.S.*
/u/trololololo\_theAbsoluteHumanToiletTrash\_xoxo *sent me a private message saying I need to post the spell text for you to be able to help me. I found the spell text in Bobby's bedroom. The text is below.*
&#x200B;
Apparently, later in the day the FBI raided her house and her post was removed from Reddit, because of the spell text (which I won't copy-paste here).
&#x200B;
EDIT:
I was wrong. The house was raided by local police. Attempted marauder. Maybe it has something to do with her other post:
&#x200B;
*Oh, no, the spell works both ways. Bobby knows that Richard is not his father.* | 2019-07-11T16:18:05 | 2019-07-11T13:02:47 | 54 | 27 |
[WP] A genie grants you a wish that freezes time, which allows you to do whatever you please. When you decide to unfreeze time, something horrific dawned upon you; everyone was conscious at the time. | A paper hung twisted in the air, as if suddenly blown against an invisible wall. Birds froze mid-flight, cars stood still, and I drew my notepad and began to write.
Writer's block is a bitch. I'd been going through a rough patch lately, and hadn't had enough time to just relax and jot everything down. This wish had been the perfect opportunity to just get it all done, get it all down. I scrawled for hours on end, and figured I might as well get some homework done. I fixed myself a nice dinner, and went to bed, all while time stood still, relaxing in the silence.
In this limbo I existed, jotting down ideas and throwing them out. I churned out poems, songs, and stories, scratching my creative itch that had sat so long unsated. And when I was finished, I resumed it all. And the screaming began.
People rolling around in the streets, clutching their arms to their sides. Some sat down, cradling their head in their arms, their minds having long since departed.
How could I have known that they remained conscious? Unable to move for days? Weeks? Months? Just... waiting. Frozen, like sculptures of ice. Until they thawed.
[subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/) | \*click\*
I hit the stopwatch. The world resumed. It couldn't have been for longer than two minutes, maybe three. I was careful. Just to test it out. But it was enough. A woman stumbled in shock. A man turned his head in a panic, as if coming up for air. A car swerved, and hit a hydrant a few meters away. My shirt turned dark and wet. There was a loud crash, far in the distance. Screams followed quickly.
I stared at the stopwatch in one hand, and the lamp in the other. This was my first wish. I now dread the other two. | 2018-10-28T20:04:55 | 2018-10-28T19:39:43 | 153 | 92 |
[WP] When gamers die, they have to relive each video game death as if it was their own, and you really sucked at video games. | Death #96
I seriously can't believe I played this much Halo, and *sucked* at it so bad. This is the 20th time I've grenaded myself, but luckily every time it hurts a little bit less.
Death #112
Damn, Call of Duty is much worse since I don't have much armour to protect myself. Also, I really need to stop trying to quickscope. God damn it!
Death #201
It's getting a but mundane now, I was seriously addicted to this game. Oh, well.
.
.
.
Death #219
Oh, I remember this match! This was when I met UndressedMonkey for the first time, he was as terrible as me. Still killed me somehow.
Death #221
Damn, I was really close to gunning him down, but I missed my bullets.
Death #223
Wow, I feel like I'm dying a lot less now. I think it's because I have UndressedMonkey in my time. He's a good player.
Death #225
I'm glad I'm at least getting to hear the coms now. This was around the time we started voice-chatting. He's really funny, and isn't *that* much better than me so at least I don't feel as bad.
Death #246
My golly, this is actually very entertaining now! I just can't get enough of him.
Death #261
Hmm, the first game in along time where I haven't played with him.
Death #263
Still no sign of him. Weird.
| I can't even pause this. Why is he shuffing back and forth? Can I actually feel this? Didn't I even press anything on the damn controller? What, I was just sitting there like a bag of sawdust?! What the fuck, Quincey! I'm just standing here. I'm one of the most powerful characters in the game, did I pause my brain instead?
I can't even move myself. She's... *wrapping her clothes around me?!* ***GOD HOLY FUCK*** she sucked one of my eyeballs out! Well at least she's kissing my neck now- wait no you're opening your mouth wide, **what the hell those aren't teeth they're footlong fangs**
&nbsp;
Fucking Mortal Kombat VR.
^(*disclaimer: it's been a while, so that may not have been one of the fatalities*) | 2016-12-26T00:49:00 | 2016-12-25T23:42:27 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] Immortals and time travelers pass along messages for each other. It's customary and expected. One day, a stranger sits across from you at a restaurant/coffee shop/bar and asks you to give a message to someone you'll meet in New York in 2070. As far as you know, you're just an ordinary person. | "Nosenog," the hooded figure said. Why would anyone want me to tell them 'nosenog'? I don't get it. Thinking of it as a novelty I wrote it in my phone calendar with a reminder on January 1st 2070.
***51 years later***
"I'M GOING TO DO IT SHARON!!!" Screaming from the top of the Empire State building. A few hours ago I found out my wife of 30 years had been cheating on me and none of my children were my own.
"I LOVED THOSE KIDS AND NOW THEY WON'T EVEN LOOK AT ME!!"
"THEY LOVE YOU!! JUST COME DOWN HERE AND WE CAN TALK THROUGH THIS!!!"
New year's Eve was a long night I don't had no idea I could get so tired just from standing on a ledge. Watching the ball drop I thought about how my life had fallen. "Same," I thought as the ball reached it's lowest point
"WHO IS THAT UP THERE WITH YOU," One of the emergency personnel called up. I didn't bring anyone up here so that was a surprise. Looking around I saw a windbreaker wearing dude with hair that had frosted tips. "DON'T COME ANY CLOSER!" I yelled at this weirdo.
Badadingding
Badadingding
Is that my phone?
"Notification, Nosenog."
"What did it say?" Asked my unwelcomed rooftop guest.
"Nosenog."
*Silence*
"Bwahahahahaha!!!!!" The man started rolling on the floor with laughter. When he composed himself he stood up brushed himself off and thanked me, "man Brent had the best jokes, you see we're time travelers and we tell each other jokes scattered around town. You just happened to be the lucky shmuck that had the punch line. Thanks for playing." He started to fiddle with something in his pocket.
"W-w-w-what was the joke?" I tried to ask nonchalantly, as if I wasn't in the middle of a break down standing on a ledge.
"Oh man only 90's kids would get it."
And I threw myself off the ledge. | “He sat down at the stool next to me and slid an envelope in front of me as he did. He said it didn’t matter if I looked inside the envelope or not, I wouldn’t understand what it was for some time. He place a small folded piece of paper on top of the envelope.
‘I need you to deliver this.’ He said.
With that, he got up and walked out of the bar without giving me a chance to speak.
At first I thought he had the wrong person, then I unfolded the paper.
‘This guys has to be insane.’ I thought.
‘June 5th, 2070’
‘Henry Willard’
‘11 Wall St, New York, NY 10005’
Does he want me to pass this down my family?!
I looked into the envelope and saw what I can only describe as a black box that says ‘SanDisk 128TB USB 5.0’ and has a tiny switch on the side.
I was brought back to reality when I realize I should give this back to the man because he clearly gave it to me by mistake or something. I ran out of the bar and saw him walking across the street. I ran out without thinking and didn’t even hear the bus.”
“That was in 1946, here’s your package Mr. Willard.”
(I normally lurk, I’m not that good at writing, please be gentle) | 2018-12-24T10:08:36 | 2018-12-24T10:04:15 | 97 | 50 |
[WP] Working as a world renowned therapist you have uncovered far more about secret conspiracies, horrific monsters, barely failed schemes to destroy the world and dark magical cults from your myriad of heroic patients than you could have bargained for, and you might need therapy yourself | My philosophy as a therapist is simple—Snitches get Stitches. It's on my business cards in a calming cursive font.
My career took off ten years ago, when I was charged with aiding and abetting the SoHo Stabber's Spring-Street Stabbing Spree. I was the Stabber's Psychiatrist (I'm actually a therapist but he insisted on calling me his psychiatrist for added alliterative effect). The prosecutors tried to argue that I knew about the plot but failed to tip off the police. I was acquitted, of course. But the ordeal put me in the national spotlight, and as it turns out, the world's highest profile individuals were all looking for a trustworthy therapist promising unconditional secrecy.
It's not an easy job. Just yesterday I found out that the President of Country X is planning a vicious character assassination campaign against President of Country Y, despite the fact that President of Country Y is *also* a patient, who happened to have very recently made a critical breakthrough about his own self-worth. It'll undo *weeks* of progress.
“That kind of thing really wears you down, you know?” I tell Julia. “It makes me feel really isolated.” Julia is my therapist. She’s awful at it. But that’s okay, I find mentorship pretty fulfilling in and of itself, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s the real purpose of this “therapy.”
Julia nodded knowingly and scribbled in her pad. “How does that make you feel?” she asked.
I sighed. “I just told you how it made me feel, Julia. Come on, you’re better than this.”
“Oh right," she blushed. "I mean… uh, tell me about your parents.”
My parents? No no no. I was *just* opening up, now is not the moment to change the topic. “They’re both dead," I said dismissively. "Julia, here's some advice. Try to be a little less heavy handed. I got clients that'd put a knife in your ribs if you started by asking about their parents.”
Julia nodded sympathetically. "And how does that make you feel?"
Goddammit Julia. "Touché. Not so great, I'll admit. It's very stressful dealing with—"
I noticed Julia scribbling again. She was holding her notepad a little too low and I could see what she wrote. *Avoids talking about parents. Both dead. Foul play? Traumatic childhood confirmed.* “I can see your notepad, Julia. I’m fifty-eight, my parents lived a pretty full life and they were *not* murdered. I had a good childhood.”
“Oh great!” Julia said. “This is a breakthrough. Let’s explore that.”
“That’s not a breakthrough! I had a *good* childhood. Look, I think the source of my problems are pretty clear. We just need to talk about coping mechanisms.”
“We can talk about anything you’d like to talk about,” Julia said reassuringly. *Patient combative,* she wrote.
“So yeah. I’m sure you understand the confidentiality aspect, as a fellow therapist. Now imagine if people’s lives were on the line and every time a patient goes on a murder spree, you knew you could stop it.”
“That sounds very difficult,” Julia said. Thank you, Julia! *Now* you’re therapizing! “Did you feel that way about your parents death?” She added.
“What do you mean?”
“Like you could stop it.”
“Goddammit Julia!” I yelled, unable to help myself. “It's like talking to a broken record! I thought I could help you, but you’re not listening! My god, you’re a therapist who can’t listen! I hope you...” I'm not proud of it, but my little tirade lasted a *long* time. It’s hard being calm and understanding in every other aspect of my life and it felt good to let myself go a little bit. So Julia became my punching bag for a while. "...Take your license, shred it into little itty-bitty bits, roll them up into joints, and have your patients smoke them because *that'll* be better treatment than anything else you're offering them!"
By the end of it, she was sobbing, and honestly, I felt *great.* That was *exactly* what I needed. I booked another time slot with her for next week, and she penciled me in through tears.
As I left her office, I heard her from the other side of the door. “Doctor Johnson? Could we move our session up? I really need someone to talk to.”
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe | I wore all black, as if I had been to a funeral. For when you are talking to Greatnesswoman, you must wear all black, everything else makes her unfocused. And to make her unfocused could mean the end to the world. At least when she prepared herself for a mission.
I must have had eleven therapy sessions with her the last month. The latest only one hour ago. This session was for me.
The only garment that was not black was my light blue mask. I preferred keeping my face hidden after my identity as the hero doctor had become known. I knocked three times on the hard wooden door and then I let myself in. The door let me in to a small room full of light. There were two chairs facing each other and a table between them.
On the furthest chair from the door, sat a woman. She stacked a bunch of papers back and forth. “Please sit down?” She said without reaching eye contact. She had a firm voice, a dense voice. I personally used other approaches when greeting clients, but I was not here to criticize.
I took of my jacket and placed it on a solid brown hanger. Then I followed her instructions and sat down. She placed her papers in a neat pile on the table. She then looked up; “please take of your mask”.
I steamed of insecurity but did as I were told. She frowned, “dr. Garrison!” She gasped, “the therapist to Greatnessman and…” I interrupted “Yes, yes and Greatnesswoman and all the others”. I was so tired of being recognized, by everyone.
She looked puzzled, but also confident; “well, what can I do for you” she gave a bleak smile.
“Well, it is about my job as the therapist to the greatest heroes. I have had this role for a while, and I do not longer handle all the work and responsibilities.”
I placed my head in my arms and sighed. “Every time, right before one of the superheroes flies to one of their missions, they call me. Every time they come back from one of this mission, they book an appointment. All their observations, all the drama and fear, they tell me everything.”
I stood up from the chair and waited for her to say something. “It’s just too much for me to carry.” The therapist nodded; “well I see, work can sometimes feel like a load, that’s difficult to carry all by yourself”.
“I need help, to continue to guide the heroes. Or else I am going to lose my mind. If things do not get better, I can no longer be a therapist.”
She continued to nod and said with a sturdy voice. “Maybe you could try to take a vacation. See how the heroes would manage by themselves for a week?”
“Ha” I laughed, “they wouldn’t last a day”.
She hesitated, “are you sure about that? We are talking about the greatest heroes of our time.”
(Dring, Dring, Dring) My phone rang. “Sorry it is important; I will be quick.” I sighed, again.
“Hey Greatnessman, how are you?” I said enthusiastic.
“Hey Garry, you wouldn’t believe it. There has been a prisonbreak in all the maximum-security prisons, in the galaxy. I know, I should start helping the authorities at once. But I think I need a therapy session first. Are you ready today, around five thirty?”
“Ah, you know Greatness, today isn’t…”
“Thank you, Garry, those criminals are going to be captured because of you. You are the real hero, and everybody knows it.”
“Wai…” I looked at my phone. “He hung up.” I started getting more frustrated.
“Now you see! Every day, a hero contacts me. They explain details around a mission that put both their own life and the worlds future in danger. Every minute I know that a hero might fail, and therefore the world fails with the hero.”
I looked at therapist, she seemed eager to comment. But first I said, “There is not more to say, I will quit servicing these clients.”
“No!” The therapist seemed nervous, “there is another way, let me explain”.
## r/simplystories | 2021-05-08T08:47:08 | 2021-05-08T07:10:11 | 95 | 25 |
[WP] A necromancer doesn't know that he can bring back the dead using magic, he just thinks he's a really good doctor. | "It's always darkest before the dawn."
That quote describes my whole career, and my best medical cases.
You see, I used to be a perfectly average doctor. I graduated med school with C's and B's, and went on to work in a perfectly average hospital in a suburb of Ohio. I did my best to keep people healthy and happy, or at least, alive. But Dr. Curgon was a perfectionist. He knew he was destined for better things than "Ohio", and "average". Unluckily for him, we worked at the same hospital. Even worse, we were on call together more often than not. And let me tell you, he *really* didn't like the way I sometimes fumbled things up. Always yelling at me, glaring, and rudely pouting about how unlucky he was to have to work with me.
We had one particularly bad case when we had three patients rushed in from a car accident during a winter storm. We were the only surgeons in the hospital that early morning, but the cases were straightforward - brusing, mild internal bleeding, some cracked ribs - and they just needed to be put together inside and have broken bones set, so they didn't call in any other surgeons. For each patient, we worked side by side in the beginning, but when things started going wrong, as they often do, he pushed me out of the way screaming about "incompetence," and didn't even let me touch them anymore. And when we lost all of the "easy" patients, we were vilified by the hospital, and the town. Dr. Curgon decided he needed to destroy my reputation by proving that the tragic losses were *my* fault, not his. He said he was fully competent, and he should get the promotion he deserved, and I shouldn't even be a janitor. It was hard enough on me when we lost the patients. I grieved with their families, even went to their funerals, but his hate made it almost too much for me to bear.
Some people are just jerks, you know?
So anyway, he started planning to sabotage me. It was a small hospital, so he got himself in charge of scheduling all the hospital shifts and arranged for me to be the only surgeon around the next time a big blizzard hit, while he was on vacation. Then, if we lost someone, all the fault would be on me, and his name would be cleared. Of course, someone had an accident on the icy roads and came in in critical condition, needing immediate surgery. His spleen was ruptured, his intestines were a mess, and several ribs were sticking out of his body. It was the grimmest case I'd seen, but I went to work, with two nurses by my side, and not much hope. But I had my Christmas spirit around, and worked diligently. At some point we nearly lost him, and I prayed a prayer my mother had taught me to pray in times of sickness and death.
*Hear me, poor soul, and come along -*
*When you are weak, then you will be strong -*
*You are never too far-gone -*
*It's always darkest before the dawn -*
*Wake up!*
I touched his forehead to finish the prayer and felt a little shock. Almost that instant, he started breathing again. I thanked my lucky stars for the answered prayer and picked up the scalpel again. As soon as he was in stable condition, I got a call from the next operating room. Another ambulance had come in, this time with an injured family - a man and his wife, both 32 years old, and two 2-year-old twins, all in critical condition. My heart nearly broke from the thought of losing them and I rushed to work, repeating my mother's prayer over each of them. I thought for sure I would lose the mother, as her heart had stopped for more than 10 minutes before I could attend to her and she had even been declared dead before I reached her side. But I tried anyway, and by some miracle, they all pulled through. I handled seven more accidents that night - it truly was a terrible blizzard - but it also caught the media's attention. In the worst blizzard in the last ten years, a single doctor and her team of nurses had saved thirty people in one day without a single loss. It started my career, and I quickly became famous for working on the hardest cases around the world. Though I couldn't seem to treat small injuries very well, I had amazing success at healing people in the worst conditions, and I never lost another patient.
They called me a god. Well, my patients often called me "master", and vowed to serve me for eternity, but I told them I was just doing my duty and they should go back to their families, and hopefully their medical bills would be paid off in finite time. They were all so grateful.
Dr. Curgon didn't take it well. I think he blamed himself for the first deaths, you see? Anyway, I was the doctor who treated him after a nearly successful suicide attempt, and he came around to my side after that. I told him I forgave him for the pettiness before, and he became my firmest supporter. | Warning: some profanity
-----
I could taste the goddamn necromagic as soon as I walked in. Rotten flesh, mold, and the alcohol scent of mana boiling it all into my nose. Makes my insides curl. And here it covers everything like someone smeared bodies all over the place. Of course the patients in the waiting room have no idea. There's one guy, finger bent backwards, looking like he's about to blow this place up. If he was one of us, he probably would.
The receptionist's tag reads "Mary." Wonder if that's actually her name. "Welcome to Rosewood Hospital, how can I help you?"
"I'd like to visit a close friend."
"And what would your friend's name be?"
"Daniel Thomas."
"Alright, give me one, second…" She types into the computer. She's fast, almost technomancer level - but I taste nothing. I'd have to come back for her - an Awakening would be bad news. "Ah, Daniel Thomas. Came in by ER, and, oh. I see that he's currently in surgery right now."
Damn. I'm late. Was hoping I'd see Dr. Frankenstein before he sewed his zombie back up. "Is there any way I can see him? Please, it's very important to me."
People think I'm hiding something. I am. But I let them fill in their own blanks. The girl at the counter looks at me, fills me in, and reads it right back to me. "I understand, sir, don't worry. I know you really care, and that makes it hard to wait." She's said this many times before. I can see it in her eyes. "Unfortunately, we can't let visitors into the operating rooms. But as soon as Dr. Falk is done with the surgery, you can visit Mr. Thomas in the ICU."
I study her face, showing exactly the right amount of anger and frustration. But everything about her is sincere in the old customer-service way. Either she's got no clue about Falk, or she knows exactly how to hide it. Either way, there's nothing more to gain here. "Okay, then." I sigh, looking defeated. "Is there any place I can wait in the meantime?"
"Yes, of course! The waiting room is open to anyone, patient or visitor." I look back. I swear the necromagic is even stronger now. "Our cafeteria is also open until 5."
I nod, grunt, and sit in one of the chairs. I can feel *it*, like blood and guts, smearing all over my khakis. Camouflage, ol' Grim would say. I call it fuckin' hell. I glance at the clock; five minutes, and then I can do things the way I like. If I left now, "Mary" might remember.
The outside door slides open, and a paramedic crew rush in surrounding a stretcher. Most of his body's covered by a blanket, but his head isn't, and it looks like someone cracked it open and scrambled the insides. His mana's leaking like crazy, too, leaving an alcohol-y trail on the floor and pooling when the paramedics stop in front of the receptionist desk. I discreetly pass the poor guy a chunk of my own mana - not that it really matters, in his state.
Angry finger guy sits down, face frozen in fear. Don't think he'll forget that.
I glance at the clock again. Three minutes, but it might as well have been ten. "Mary" peeks at the doorway to the operating rooms, and I slip out of the door. Finally.
I don't walk far. Just to the parking garage, lowest level. No cars. Perfect, right down to the dinky water fountain in the elevator lobby.
I take a drink of water, rinsing the necromagic away. Work up a spitball, give a hack for good measure, and spit. I love this part.
The spitball hovers in the air, like it's floating in space. Then, it turns around and hits me in the face, exploding in a great big splatter that soaks me from head to toe.
I check my hands. Invisible. Good.
Time for a little scry n' spy.
-----
Part 2 coming soon! | 2020-06-21T13:22:47 | 2020-06-21T12:51:49 | 296 | 160 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | She sat in the chair, shivering against the cold dense plastic and metal monstrosity. Eyes flickered back and forth, the chill in the room not the only reason for her to shake and tremble. Eyes gazed warily, fearfully at the metal tower beside her, unknown attachments hanging off with unknown purposes.
A man in white enters, looking at her as if she were nothing but a problem to fix, a subject to enhance. He asks her questions and she replies haltingly, unsure, confused. Continuing to talk the man holds a dark instrument in front of her eyes, waiting for answers while conducting unknown practices. The instrument emits light, bright and piercing and shines them directly into her eyes. She squirms at the intrusion, trying to look away before reprimanded.
She whimpers as he moves a heavy apparatus to her, instructing her to compliance. The questions continue and her panic grows. Her vision swims and she stammers out responses. The man doesn't seem pleased and repeats his questions.
Finally it ends yet the entire ordeal does not. Another machine, heavier on a base is slid over. Her neck cranes and the metal and plastic feel cold. More lights, blue and green as well as plain. All bright. All searing. Just when she thinks it will never end the machine is moved. The man speaks and she flees.
I sigh and rub my eyes. *Why do people treat an eye exam like torture? You think I'm pulling their teeth instead of helping them see.* | Today's the end of The Month. It wasnt surprising but we all knew it was coming. It lasted too long but we didnt want it to seem like it had come too soon. There are 12 of them yet this one was different. It was almost like the rest seemed dull and ugly while this one was meaningful and gave us momentary happiness right up until the end, when it got bad. Having this many dogs was hard to take care of but it seemed like one dog always needed something extra and it was always.....the same dog. Before the end of The Month, we had bills to pay and the extra expenses werent helping us and it seemed like we wanted The Month to last longer but we never had the money for the bills even by the end of it. We buried The Month in the yard as it served its purpose even if it was too much for us. | 2017-08-30T06:31:44 | 2017-08-30T04:51:45 | 43 | 13 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily. | “Hello internet!”
A large face of a female teenager filled the screen, her voice a tone of fake cheer that was so common in these videos. Especially as of late.
“Again, thank you sooooo much for all the subscribes and likes. This is a special video for my one million subscriber mark.” The view panned back, allowing the partially destroyed inside of what might have been a warehouse come into view around her head. “As promised-”, There was a pause, “We caught one!” The camera panned over to a mixture of male and females of varying ages standing around a metal table with weapons. On the table, with all six limbs chained down, the alien soldier held down, barely able to even struggle through both the wounds and restraints.
“Now, as all of you know with my previous videos, any smartknife from your kitchen can cut through their armor and flesh so long as you turn the safety settings off. See the link attached for that vid. And now onto what I wanted to show you. We’re going to be taking an indepth look at their physiology and what you can do to fight if you don’t have your smartknife.” The girl chirps.
What then proceeded over the next thirty heavily-edited minutes was one of the most exacting, horrific, and through tortures the Commander had seen of any of his own species. It was brutal. It was sickening. It broke at least two intergalactic treaties the humans had never been invited to sign. And it was narrated with that same false cheer the entire time.
The commander didn’t speak until the video ended. The soldier’s blood splattered on that false cheery face was the last frame, the girl telling people to subscribe for more vids, download the vid to share and reference later and see her friend’s channel about how to turn their blade dancing skills into a deadly fighting style.
“How wide spread is this communication?” The commander asks the intelligence officer.
“From what the counter says, billions have seen it and spread it. Even if we were to find the source, their communication system is too varied and decentralized to remove it before we have subjugated or destroyed them.” The intelligence officer behind the commander speaks quietly, trying to not look as sick as he felt. “From reports, the increase in casualties have wounds similar to the ones shown here.”
The commander continued to stare at the blood-splattered face on the screen of the stolen computer. The planet Earth had been supposed to be an easy conquest as a forward station for their on going war. It was.... had been a science and entertainment based planet with an almost zealous focus on peace. After the last two weeks of fighting, the commander now understood that the reason for that zealousness was that the humans had been restraining their own vicious nature. The compassion the humans held for each other and the other species of their planet was absent in the eyes of that smiling female. This was not the face of peace.
A small ding emanated from the computer and a small tab showed up in the upper right corner stating there was a new video. The intelligence officer hesitantly reached over to click the small pop up.
A new video opened up to the face of a noticeably older man standing there. Behind him was that same teenage girl from before, some red bloodied bandages on her arm, stomach, and head. This didn’t seem to stop her from laughing and dancing in the background though in celebration as she stood next to-
“No.” whispered the intelligence officer.
“Hello internet.” Spoke the man, voice gruffer, more tired than the girl. “Today for our 1 Billion subscriber vid we’re going to show you some different ways to hijack and pilot one of their ships." | Part 1
&#x200B;
Torin started at the flimsy placed in front of him. As he scanned the almost transparent document he didn’t see anything surprising jump out at him but had noticed that 3 of the probe teams hadn’t updated in close to 12 units.
Calling up their locations on his terminal he nodded as he started to remember their mission profiles and details. The first team was dealing with a probably data facility location on the outermost dwarf planet. Machine probes had found a likely reactor source and large sealed data vault. Considering the lack of tectonics and the stability on the frozen ice planet it made sense.
The second team was likely lost to a collision in the asteroid belt as they had suddenly been lost tracking. One moment they were pinging the system and the next the small facility had gone silent. As of this morning no response had been received from the evac team sent out to retrieve the remains. The team had been on what they though was a stable asteroid in the belt but considering the amount of debris and traffic they had observed it was just a matter of odds Torin suspected. They still had 9 other units on the belt running silent observation still and the data was looking promising.
Comm team three had checked in every tenth cycle since landing on a moon on the 6th planet but with the distributed communication relays still in silent mode after a local craft fly by it could be a few more units before they could transmit.
If this was the worst delay Torin had before the fleet gate activated he would be more than satisfied with the abilities of the recon team. This was the fourth subjugation the Assembly had authorized in the last 3 centuries and the first Torin had been able to have secured any leadership role. He didn’t count the punitive expeditions or system shock incidents as major.
Records showed that the second, third, and fourth planets had life further along than animal or bacterial. The asteroid belt between the third and fourth planets had power signs indicating the possibility of metal mining and smelting. Comm traffic was minimal between the planets and while they currently hadn’t broken the decryption on the burst transmissions they had intercepted Torin didn’t doubt his team’s ability to make headway in that area. He tried to push the nagging doubt away for his mind about why nobody had brought this up before the outlying gate had been pushed into this system but it wasn’t in his mission data and his level 8 security clearance didn’t allow him to see the planning data yet.
It was curious when he thought about it. The system hadn’t even come to the notice of the Reof Assembly except when a science teams array was hit with bursts of Negalia class energy. They had dispatched 3 fly through probes and one remote deep space unit to report back. Initial data had been negative due to the amount of radiation swirling about the atmosphere of the third and fourth planet and the debris of what the science community assumed where 12 difference space stations. | 2019-02-26T12:17:05 | 2019-02-26T10:26:44 | 26 | 14 |
[WP] "Usually when we first contact a civilization, it is very easy to get them under our banner..." The Empress sighed. "...Not the humans though." | The air stinks of false pleasantries.
Around a table, representatives of the mightiest empire the galaxy had ever known sits across from the upstarts in the Sol system. A cybernetically enhanced group of humanoid creatures bearing a striking resemblance to the species of emperors and empresses. Only a primary difference in skin color and texture, slightly metallic as a natural evolution to a heavily radiated environment.
A human delegation rises and give bows of feigned respect. They have something they call a United Nations governing their systems and colonies, making communicative talks difficult. Too many humans have too many different forms of power. No way to isolate and eliminate their leadership. Their defining characteristic a hatred among their species for different beliefs, governments, even skin colors. But all humans share one common attribute.
An intense hatred of all alien races. The way they see it, humans would rather wipe out all opposing life, in order to focus on kill each other. Can't exactly blame them. The empire hadn't made a peaceful first contact.
The empress rises and gives a slight nod. Her generals and entourage fume, such respect is unworthy of such an entitled race.
Humans are fickle. Loud, violent, loving, hopeful, arrogant, intelligent, idiotic. No one set of morals defines them.
Nearly limitless resources, ships, armies, planets and systems kneel before her throne. Every other race would bow and scrape, awed at the magnificence of the Imperial Fleet and the limitless might of the Empire.
Not the humans.
There is silence. Neither side aims to move first.
The empress waves a hand. A signal.
A smartly dressed General rises, puffs out his chest, and reads into a translator.
"We are willing to discuss terms for an armistice."
Stone faced humans. No emotions from them, and no body language to express any kind of reaction. Perhaps the electronics make them unable to feel.
A human stands and speaks into his translator, as another moves a document towards the imperial delegation. One rises to take it, and opens it before the Empress.
"We have terms. They are non-negotiable."
The Empress can sense the fury of her generals, some of their arms quiver with rage. Their teeth are clenched, eyes narrowed.
She reads the terms.
Immediate cessation of all conflict.
Tributes of various sorts, technological, material, financial.
Trade policies specifically benefiting human settlements.
Surrender of nearly four dozen star systems near their Sol system.
Dissolution of the Empire.
She makes a brief comment and the General stands again, speaking into that black box. If he grips it any harder it will shatter.
"We cannot agree to the dissolution of the empire."
The humans stand in unison, sighing as if they've heard a terrible joke.
"Either agree to the terms, or we will employ them by force."
The aliens rise. It is futile, true. Human weapons are too precise, their drones vastly outnumbering her own pilots. Every ship in her invincible army outclassed and outgunned.
But she had her pride.
She turned to leave, condemning her people to death.
Humans would talk about the first contact war as a minor spat. Ancient cultures ground into dust by their own hands.
None had pity for the dead.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/storiesfromapotato | "Usually when we first contact a civilization, it is very easy to get them under our banner..." The Empress sighed. "...Not the humans though."
At the time no one could have understood what she had meant, knowing quite simply that The Empress had come to that conclusion after years of debate among her court and her military advisers. Initially, scouts were sent daily in order to retrieve human specimens for research. Each time, the scouts would return with bodies and with experimentation we learned about the human species and their ability to think for themselves and possess a means of unique governance known as "democracy". Inevitably, this meant that in both literal and abstract ways our conventional means of communication from the mothership would not reach the leaders of Humanity. Since the very first human came aboard The Empress took personal notice and would watch as the humans were interrogated. In time, she began to keep the humans as "pets" and at every sighting her fellow aristocrats would shudder in disgust. One would not be determined as wrong in assuming her view towards the Humans as anything but that of below even a slave species such as the Tarian.
"I want to speak to my domain, within an hour I will make an announcement."
An hour had come and went, members of the Court still debating on what the content of the announcement would be. Many thought it would be plausible that The Empress would declare a full scale invasion, similar to previous planets that had proved to be invulnerable to low level subversion and mind control.
They could not have been more wrong.
"Citizens of the Claxian Empire, I hereby decree the following..."
In addressing the whole entire Empire across the billions of star systems we had conquered, The Empress had already placed herself in the annals of history without even saying a word. With bated breath, the Empire watched as The Empress took off her gold emblazoned crown and placed down her sceptre, revealing to every man, woman and child that she too was a mere mortal Claxian.
"Earth shall not be invaded."
Within seconds, everything had changed.
Whether those back home on Claxia Prime knew or not, The Empress had become fascinated with human trifles such as "emotion" and "love" and saw the Humans as equals. The notion sounded preposterous even to the Lords that had volunteered to join her in conquering the Milky Way. Yet somehow she had pulled a complete turn, decades later it would appear that her conversations with various humans on such topics had broken through her carapace and like the strongest of acid, melted away her characteristic bloodlust.
"Have you lost your mind!"
The Lords yelled in unison, feeling with their tendrils that military victory and complete domination was only a planet away.
The Empress refused to say a word.
Naturally, she had work to do.
| 2017-11-05T15:14:55 | 2017-11-05T14:23:06 | 681 | 61 |
[WP] You are a hitman who has just finished their most recent job. Or, at least, thought had finished, because the second you take your eyes off your target’s corpse, you hear “Hey, not bad! I actually felt that one.” | I had him at my mercy.
"You're here to kill me?"
"Yes." I nodded slowly.
"Can I know who sent you?"
"Recording devices are a thing. I'm sorry." I smiled, sadly. The ones who were ready like this? They were always the hardest. The easiest were the ones who tried to rush you, to try and kill you back. Those kills, at least, could be softened by the thought that you were defending yourself in the end.
"That's alright. I can understand being professional." The man sitting on his bed set aside his newspaper, let out a sigh, and then sat back. He closed his eyes, and I fired.
His body jerked once as the bullet punched through a rib and penetrated his heart.
I shot him one more time, and then quickly pulled out my phone; picture taken, then sent, to confirm the kill.
As I turned to walk out, the man behind me laughed. "Hey, not bad! I actually felt that one."
He coughed. "Auuuugh, that was a good shot. Holy crap, I think you cracked a rib. Haven't done that in a *decade*."
I gaped, pistol still in hand, as the man sat up in his bed and heaved as if trying to breathe.
Body armor. He must have had body armor underneath.
No wonder they required my services.
Immediately, I thumb the safety off again, level the pistol at my target, and dump the rest of the magazine into his neck and head, the suppressor degrading from such rapid abuse and I feared that the loud clack-clap of the Colt cycling would actually give me away.
Spent brass clatters to the carpet floor.
"Went for the brain next. Nice." Coughed the corpse. Should have been a corpse.
I'm are already reaching into my suit to grab a reload when the hand comes up. "Nope. Nope, you're good. Don't worry about trying again. You pass."
"What... shit, did *you* hire me?"
"No, but I don't need names." He spits out fragments of teeth - I must have shot it loose - onto the bedside table as his rapidly healing head closed off the bullet holes. Another spit, and a hollow point slug joins the teeth. "But after you walk out of here, you go after them for me. I'll pay double your rates, and give you a bonus on top of that."
"And what's the bonus?"
The man reached out to me, hand ready to shake. "I'll show you how to be like me. How to heal any wound. Deal?" | I spin towards the voice. The man I was sent to kill is grinning back at me. Only inches away. Startles I just back, hitting the wall and only gaining a small distance between us. His dead body was feet away a moment ago. Well maybe not dead, gosh I don't know what is going on.
"Ahh that was an interesting feeling. What did you use?" The target asks me, still grinning. "It's been so long since I have been this excited!"
He begins to list things and mutter under his breath.
'gun no, 1950s' 'carbon monoxide... Na that was a painful one' 'mushrooms... Couldn't be I tried those so many years ago.'
As the mad man mutters I try to leave. Moving with a grace only a trained killer can and he still notices. I am yanked towards him, his hand on my shirt. "Oh buddy, I did not give you permission to leave. I reach behind my back and grab my gun. I might not be one for weapons but I always carry it.
Shots ring out and... Nothing. No death, he doesn't even flinch as I unload the bullets into him.
"Nothing that has killed me can harm me again" he said calmly.
"So you did die?" I ask confused.
"Oh yes, for the first time, in a long time. I am very curious what you did. It's fun to feel something new every once in awhile. After you experienced so much it's hard to find."
"You are crazy" I breath out and try to leave but I am pulled back and spun around. His grinning face close to mine, already pissing me off.
"Oh you can't leave yet. This has been fun. Tell you what, kill me twice more and I will let you love and leave."
He finally stopped grinning waiting for my reply. How can I kill someone who will now be expecting it, and who in involnerable to anything that has worked before? | 2019-08-29T18:54:30 | 2019-08-29T18:12:31 | 3,264 | 76 |
[WP] Heaven and Hell do exist after death but you can choose in which you go. You jokingly choose Hell and when you arrive there, you hear Satan saying: "Finally someone! A friend!" | Lucifer gleefully asks "What do you wanna do?". Echoing in a void of nothingness.
Cautiously Chet replies, "Uh what do you mean?"
"Look, it's been boring as well, hell frankly, and all that nonsense about torture and brimstone is propaganda. Let's do something fun if you don't believe me."
Chet incredulously proceeds, "If I want to have an orgy in a milkshake fountain, you're not going to rape me with demons or anything?"
Conjuring a comfortable dive bar from Chet's memories appears and a cliche yet suave impish bartender to embody his infernal majesty.
Busying himself washing glasses, his Van Dyk rimmed mouth opens, "Chet, If I wanted to torture you, we could be doing sexual reassignment surgery right now. No anesthetic. I mean it. No tricks, no genie wish bullshit."
Chet guardedly takes a barstool.
Incredulously, "Whiskey, Irish, neat."
Snapping his fingers a drink manifests from crimson flames. "I could use dark magic for the dishes, seems like cheating though."
Chet sips the whiskey, "It's good." he admits surprised.
"Of course it is." Satan scoffs. "All we have on the jukebox is Justin Bieber sadly."
Then the moment Chet reacts, "Kidding, I'm kidding, that'd be cruel." The classic riff of Hendrix's Purple Haze starts playing.
"You can smoke in the bars here. No pun intended."
Chet feels his pockets, pulls out his pack of full flavored Winstons, and lights one up. Thinking he swirls his lowball and swallows the rest down.
The Dark Lord slides an ashtray to him. "You've got questions, I'm sure. I understand if you don't trust me. There's quite a smear campaign going on about me, not fair at all."
Chet, "So this isn't God fucking with me, there's distinctly two realms? I'm dead?"
Lucky,"Dead as a door nail. They don't let you have any fun up there. Sex, Drugs, Violence, even cursing is kinda frowned upon. Here is more like, Valhalla. Feast, drink, die in glorious battle, rise again."
Chet is still skeptical, "So you get my guard down, and then whammo torture city gotcha."
Lucy, "Chet, nothing could be further from the truth." Heavy machinery is heard outside the bar, a dark city grows in the void around them. Metal squealing crescendos right in the parking lot "Ever driven a tank before?"
Before Chet can ask for a second whiskey, his glass is full. He glances into the red and black eyes doubtfully. Getting up slowly nursing his cigarette and drink Chet makes his way to a dingey window facing the parking lot.
"A tank, so I can blow up some buildings, maybe fight an onslaught of zombies?" he inquires attempting a casual tone.
"You can do whatever you want. You can shoot laser beams out of your ass, and be a robot space pirate fighting a horde of demons in space. Whatever you like."
Chet finishes his drink and his cigarette determined to double down on his "fuck it" attitude, "Alright, let's plink some zombies for a bit on the roof. But uh, keep the pain turned on. Playing without it would be cheating."
"Atta boy Chet!", Evil incarnate triumphantly encouraged. "I knew you picked right. We're going to have a hell of a time you and I!"
--This might be the first time I've tried to submit something here. Maybe predictable or cliche, but I wanted to get the idea out of my head. | "I've been waiting for so long!"- The devil said excitedly, jumping around and exhaling noxious fumes. He seemed ghastly and yet, he had an air of friendliness to him.
The moment I saw him walking towards me was when I realized my silly little joke had gone a little too far. He walked rather vigorously and with every step Hell seemed to shout as the echoes of a hundred little bones being crushed under his hooves bounced off the impossibly high ceiling.
After a while he finally reached me and stretched his bright red hand with jet black nails so long that they might as well have been claws. "How do you do? Please to meet you! My name is Satan but you can call me Stan."- I looked him in the eyes where I seemingly got lost in a dark and empty void only to be snapped back into reality as my hand instinctively went shake his, the skin felt like touching a very lukewarm stove, not enough to hurt but just right to make you feel uncomfortable.
"Hi, uhh I guess I am now in this....place."- I looked at him rather confused as it wasn't the hell I expected or the one I would've hoped for.
"Indeed you are, which begs the question. Why? I mean, don't get me wrong, it's great to have you here but your choice is unusual to say the least."- The devil looked at me with a childish grin in his face as if he expected me to say that the only reason I was here for was him and him alone.
"Well Satan-" he quickly interrupted me mid sentence. "Stan, just call me Stan."- "Right...Stan. Well, I just chose Hell because I figured it would be an absolute party central."- I could never tell him that it was just because of a joke, he seemed like a nice enough guy, if we are not taking into account the Afterlife Reform Act Battle where he attempted to stop people from leaving Hell (much to no avail if I might add) by invading Heaven. Instead I went with a lame excuse with a sentence that included 'party central'...nice.
"Well, you came to just the right place."- He said as he guided me through a series of empty corridors that seemed impossibly long until we reached a room with a table and some food. "Cause we have everything we need for a total rave."
"Chips, dip and chairs not stained with blood!"- He clearly hadn't thrown a party in millennia, he forgot the guacamole. But I decided that maybe I might as well enjoy myself and ultimately partied with him, just the two of us and some chairs.
So good was the dip that the fallen angels that once dwelled in Hell and had left to the lower levels of Heaven had returned home once more. The look on Stan's face was priceless.
You might think of me as a foolish man that jokingly chose Hell but, since God proved that destiny is totally a thing that can be changed and forged, let me tell you that Stan and I have enjoyed inhuman quantities of dip. | 2017-11-04T11:19:44 | 2017-11-04T07:17:22 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] You die and find yourself at the gates of heaven, but they're rusted and hanging open. The entire place seems abandoned. | I start to feel the water burn the inside of my lungs. This is it. This is how I’m going to die. I stop panicking as I feel the undercurrent pull me deeper and deeper into the ocean. It’s over. I begin to relax my body and mind. A wave of peace and euphoria washes over me. My body becomes weightless, and I am ready to die.
A light appears in front of me. I try to look beyond it, but it gets stronger and stronger. I notice my weightless body being pulled towards it. Suddenly my awareness is completely absorbed into the light altogether. My physical body has completely disappeared.
“Where am I?” I thought to myself. I look up, and I see an enormous gate in front of me. A sign above it simply read, “Heaven." The gate is rusted wide open. There’s no one guarding it either. I walk beyond the entrance into the little town inside.
“Hello?” I am met with silence. “Hello! Is there anybody here?” Still no answers. I walk through the town, and notice that all of the buildings are dilapidated and abandoned. “What happened here?” I asked myself.
As I walked through the town, I noticed what appeared to be a graveyard. That’s… strange. Why would there be a graveyard in heaven? I descend down the mossy steps into the cemetery. There’s a giant sepulcher in the middle of the vast sea of tombstones. I start walking towards the giant stone monument to what appeared to be a bronze sarcophagus in the center of it.
“Here lies God, the one and only.” The epitaph read. “Even the ultimate creator must eventually return to dust just like you will.”
I step back, and begin to feel nervous. I notice my hands starting to look gaunt. My face begins to age rapidly in the reflection of the bronze. I'm beginning to… decay? “Help!” I cried out. My knees buckle, and I collapse to the floor with a hollow thud. I am turning into dust. “Make it stop!” I cried out loud for help. But there was nobody to care. I begin to hear a laughter coming from deep within the bronze casket. I can see the bones protruding out beneath my skin. Everything goes black.
I immediately cough up a bunch of water. A young lifeguard is leaning over me.
“Stand back everyone! Give him some room!”
I laid there in the sand gasping for air. | I walk in, not feeling my steps as if I'm gliding, over the ground that breathes a soft light. It's all ground for miles on end.
I feel as if I should be remembering 26 years of a life, but the emotions are present, the images are not. I only barely recollect a second of it, a group of masked figures looking over me. I don't even quite know what I look like, or what I'm wearing now -- I feel nothing physically.
There are intense leftover feelings of betrayal and anger, to a certain extent guilt, and a sudden rush of a mix of calmness and shock. I deeply miss whatever I had, even if I can remember any of it. As I keep walking, I strongly hope I can be brought back. I'm probably in a coma.
I glide over what feels like several thousand miles, over what's probably several days, but I'm not tired, and it seems only moments ago that I entered those very same rusty gates. I finally spot a man, mid-20's, crying bitterly.
He tells me he's been here for many months, and has found no God in his path, that he's as lost as I am. *"This whole thing is so inconclusive,"* he says. That there's no booming voice guiding him where to go next, and it's his job to make peace with his situation.
I want to console him, but don't know how. He thinks about what he said, calms down, and breathes a long sigh as he looks at me with genuine happiness, like an insomniac that slept for the first time, as he begins fading away. I ask him, "Do you know where we go next?"
*"No."*
and he disappears, as I keep searching for others. | 2018-09-06T17:52:54 | 2018-09-06T16:38:53 | 453 | 24 |
[WP] In a world where everything from clothes to tools to mundane objects has RPG like stats and rarities, you become the first person to acquire a legendary item. | I sat out on the porch, a hot summer breeze ruffling the flimsy wooden coasters on the table that were not weighted down by glasses of lemonade-or in my case- glasses of mojitos. The symphony of buzzing gnats was interrupted by a pounding of double-knotted sneakers on wooden boards. I put my drink down and looked at the little bundle of joy smiling proudly in front of me.
“What you got there Bobby?”
I crouched down and picked the small sculpture out of my son's hand.
The toddler giggled and tore off into the backyard, his golden blonde bowl-cut bopping into the distance. I watched him for a minute, his small figure shimmering in the heat, then I turned my attention back to the object in my palm. It was a clay sculpture of a little man in my hand- about the size of an action figure. Intrigued, I pulled up the appraiser app on my phone and scanned the small figurine.
>Name: Bickle
>Rarity: Legendary
>Value: ???
>Description: ???
My jaw dropped. In my entire life, this was the first legendary item I had ever encountered. Even the Royal Families' Crown Jewels held on display in the Tower of London had only registered as 'Very Rare' when we had visited the city this spring. I sprang up from the deck chair and ran into the backyard after my son. He was on his hands and knees, picking at a blade of grass. “Bobby, where did you find this?”
Bobby was distracted and ignored me. I waited patiently for him to focus his attention on me. When he did, he held out a small pink hand with his palm extended. “Look mum, a caterpillar! I named him Crawly.”
My appraiser app was still running, and as his hand moved into range, it accidentally scanned the litter critter.
>Name: Crawly
>Rarity: Common
>Value: .20
>Description: Most caterpillars prefer leaves that are lush green, but Crawly prefers ones that have already turned slightly brown. Natural Selection predicts that he will never become a butterfly. Probably.
*Who would pay 20 pence for a caterpillar?* I thought. I tabled my opinions about Crawly for the time being and turned back to my son.
I grabbed him gently by the wrist and squared his face to me. “He's very cute Bobby. Now,”- I opened my palm to reveal the mysterious clay sculpture again-”What's this?”
“BICKLE!” he yelled, giggling. Without warning, he wrenched his wrist away from me and ran away towards our house. I chased after him, starting to lose my patience.
“And where did we find...ehrm...*Bickle*?”
“I made it for you mum! In art class!”
“Now Bobby,”-my face turned stern- “remember what said about telling the truth?”
Bobby's shoulders sagged. “You don't...you don't like it?”
I could see the path that Bobby's temperament was heading. Next would come the tears, and then the wailing. I changed tactics before things got ugly.
“No love, of course I like it. As a matter of fact, I love it.”
“That's good,” Bobby said, as his expression brightened. “Just make sure you keep loving him. Bickle gets mad if you don't love him- He will tell me if you don't.”
“Bickle can...talk to you?” I had hoped- perhaps vainly- that my son would be lucky enough to skip over the imaginary friend phrase. Can't win 'em all, I guess.
“Yeah! I made him so he can keep you company. He can watch you while I'm at school, and then when I get home, he can tell me all about your day.”
I held the small sculpture up to my eyes. I doubted that my son had a future in sculpting. The figure was crudely drawn from dirty brown clay, with limbs of asymmetric lengths. The head was lopsided and not properly centered on the shoulders- it looked like a gingerbread man that had gotten into a horrific car crash. The face was the most disturbing part- it had no mouth, with only two dark pits that stared up in to nothing. Even if it was an inanimate object, I was certain I did not want this thing to be my friend.
“That's great sweety. It's just that he's so small, I really hope I don't lose him. Maybe we should try to sell him on Amazon to someone that would keep better track of him? I bet he could find a better friend than mummy.”
Bobby crossed his arms. “You can't sell him. He wants to be *your* friend.”
*Of course he does,* I thought.
*Yes, of course I do,* Bickle thought back.
I looked at Bickle. He looked back at me. He didn't have a mouth, but I imagined him smiling anyway. I felt a shiver run down my spine and had a sudden impulse to toss the ugly thing as far as I could into our neighbor's yard.
He couldn't have spoken to me. Maybe I had just imagined it. I was starting to feel light headed from the heat, after all. | Back when I first got the item, I didn't know what to do with it so I placed it in my farm. But soon, people started flocking to my farm. Crowds and crowds of people, all surging on my fields like a necromancer's thralls. I was shocked - I mean, my barley!
I quickly learned how to profit from it. I fenced up my farm the best I could, and charged people a penny a head. I was rolling in pennies, but people just seemed to have more and more of them. Everyone wanted to have a go at the thing, but since I was the owner, usually all I had to do was give a little demonstration, some shock and awe. The few troublemakers that tried to hustle me with their uncommons and rares quickly got taught a rather divine lesson.
It only escalated from there. Soon, people from all around the county came to my small farm, and with my boatload of pennies, I quickly upgraded my facilities. I moved it from a boulder to a wall, then to a pedestal. People were soon paying 10 silver a head just to see the thing. Of course, demonstrations were still in order, but I had no trouble whipping up a storm for the crowd.
And it kept going! Counts and dukes, kings and popes, all visiting my item and I. I moved from a stone building to a mansion, then to a castle, then to my own city, gifted through courtesy of a local baron who got a little trigger-happy with his troops. Of course, there weren't any troops in my city; I didn't need them, and I grilled a good half of them in their shells earlier on.
I didn't really enjoy my new life, really. I kept thinking back to the time when I was still living with my pa and ma in my old farmhouse, back when I didn't have a huge gold mine strapped magically to my name. Back when I didn't wake up to throngs of people clamoring for the legendary man with the legendary item. Now it's all show us this, vaporize that, pennies and silver and gold. What did it all mean, really?
But it all came to a terrible end when a neighboring emperor decided he wanted my item for itself. Marched his troops right into the country I was in, and razed a path right through. He was strong in his own right - had a whole treasury of mythologicals and super rares. But hey, a legendary was a legendary. I took on his army myself before he marched onto my old barley field. It was a huge mistake.
The battle was concluded quickly, but the losses were too great. The clash of legendary and mythological and super rare items proved to be too strong, and my poor barley field, as well as anything within 50 leagues, were given indiscriminate divine punishment. Both countries were wrecked by the aftereffects as well as the remaining spell effects (meteorites and lunar beams and such). In hindsight, maybe I could have just used the pointy end of my item.
I didn't suffer so much as a scratch, and so I sat down to bemoan my barley, stabbing my legendary in the scorched earth. At this point, I came to the realization that this item really had brought me more harm than good. Were legendaries really meant for the common man? Was it destined that I receive this item and bring the world to its knees like this? Why did I have to be the one to get this item?
I don't know the answers. The crowds are gone now, since they're all dead, and I can only wander the ruined countryside, trying to atone for my sins. It's all empty, but sometimes I feel like I can hear the masses calling out for my item once again.
I walked back to my city, my designated grave of my countrymen, and I thought to leave the legendary in the city square. One man was not enough to handle this sword, and I had no wish to continue.
I had not eaten for days, and I saw figures at the edge of my vision; I knew I didn't have much longer to go. I stumbled the last few steps, the familiar handle getting heavier in my hands.
The imagined crowds gathered once more as I heaved my haggard body to the center of the square. Lifting it once last time, I stabbed the sword into the stone.
As I collapsed to my knees and my vision faded to black, a whisper from a thousand voices crept to me. I focused the last of my mind to try to listen.
Yes... there it was, the familiar calling of the crowd. Indeed, someone said Thunderfury, Blessed Blade of the Windseeker. | 2017-02-04T09:49:53 | 2017-02-04T09:17:37 | 439 | 278 |
[WP] The world is ending. A group of astrophysicists, xenobiologists, medical doctors, and other experts is loaded on a rocket. And you...but no one seems willing to tell you why. | Isaiah Walters fumbled with the complicated latching system on his space suit. Everyone else had managed to seal themselves into their own little atmosphere without issue. It only reinforced the intense feeling of estrangement from the rest of the crew, reminded him that he was surrounded by only the most supremely smart and accomplished. Three weeks into the training program, he was now officially convinced he was the only idiot on the crew. While it did hurt his self-confidence a bit, at least he was in competent hands – as long as he stayed out of the way that is.
As many times as he had asked, he never got an answer as to why he had been chosen for the mission. The opportunity to escape certain death on earth was nice and all… but he couldn’t help feeling guilty. For his entire terrestrial life Isaiah had been a klutz. The IT department had practically put a tail on him, constantly fixing printers after he used them or taping down wires that only Isaiah could manage to trip over. Why hadn’t someone smarter, or more capable been chosen?
Doctors, engineers, and… professions that Isaiah had never heard of before all lined up shoulder to shoulder, ready to take the plunge. No one seemed to mind waiting for him, but Isaiah felt a sense of relief as he sealed up the final clasps, zippers, and clamps less than ten minutes after the rest of the crew. Half running, half wobbling, Isaiah hustled to join the crew.
A few steps away from the long row of crew members, Isaiah turned his head to see who was he would be lining up next to. Lifting a hand to wave at the unrecognizable crew member next to him, Isaiah suddenly felt his clunky boot catch on something. Head over heels, he tumbled up to the line of crew members, then past them, then over the edge into a dark abyss.
The sound of the splash was drowned out by the immediate ringing of alarms. Twisting in his suit, Isaiah tried to read the code displayed on his heads-up display. With a sinking realization, Isaiah stopped trying to read what the alarm meant. The fluid filled his suit through his boots, helmet seal, and chest zipper all at once.
Thinking about the more deserving soul who would take his place, he resigned to sinking to the bottom of the pool. People said drowning was peaceful. Hell, it would probably be better than dying in the upcoming perma-winter after the asteroid hit. Better than his inevitable suffocation when he failed to seal his suit up on an actual mission. Closing his eyes as the water level in his helmet rose, Isaiah tried to relax.
Isaiah felt himself expel a large volume of fluid, then became aware of the rest of his body. Continuing to choke, spit, and gasp he looked around the room. The faces of the other crew members beamed back at him.
“Right on guinea pig!”
“Better to find out now, eh?”
“Leave it to Walters!”
As the medics sat back, one of the senior engineers approached him and shook his head. Isaiah dropped his head in shame knowing he had probably just ruined a suit worth more than his car. He started to stammer out an apology when the engineer cut him off.
“It takes a special kind of stupid to mix up that many mechanisms in one attempt.”
“Sir, I’m sorry” Isaiah started “I don’t think I’m -“ but he was cut off again.
“You singlehandedly exposed 13 critical flaws in the design that our test suite missed. Rest assured that the team is already back at the drawing board addressing them.” The engineer looked down, humbled. “You’ve got a knack for this Walters. Now rest up because we’ve got a lot more idiot proofing to do tomorrow. You’re going to save a lot of lives if you keep this up.” | *What I know, what we know could be changed in a second. This is what I learned...*
''I can’t wait anymore.'' one of the astrophysicists tries to open the hatch but the marines stop him immediately.
''Do I know you?'' someone touches my shoulder and I look back.
I try to recall her name first but she is faster than me, ''You are the guy who worked with Dr.Nicholas on FSI project.''
''Yes, I’m that guy.'' I say.
''I didn’t want to be rude but Dr.Nicholas was a very hard man to...''
''To work with?'' I complete her sentence.
''Yeah, kind of. Most of the colleagues didn’t have the greatest experience with him when they were working on the same project. I heard he wasn’t able to teach a class at the university because of his temper. Do you still in touch with his family?'' She asks.
''No. He was mostly focussed on his work. He didn’t speak of his family that much.''
''I see. Do you know anything about this?'' She points the marines guarding the door.
''I wish. One of the scientists said that we are going to K2-18B.''
''I seriously doubt that. That planet is very far away. At least 100 light-years away we wouldn’t able to get there in our life even with the light speed.''
I sense a small vibration.
''Did you feel that?'' I ask her.
''I think we took off.'' She replies.
The rest of the people gets anxious quite fast and marines start to neutralize a few people.
''I didn’t get your name by the way.''
''It’s Amanda.'' She says.
''Wait... You were...No way.''
''Yes, I’m the daughter of Dr.Nicholas. I first saw you when my dad got really sick and you had to call my mother. I had to drive my mother to the hospital to see him.''
''I remember now, you were wearing sunglasses and you didn’t speak much.''
''Yeah, I had some issues back then. I still have them but they don’t bother me as much.''
Marines leaves the room and they leave the door open. A few people instantly rush out and a moment later we hear someone scream in agony. A few moments later screaming stops and people inside the room tries to peek out of the door and one of them gets pulled out instantly.
As soon as people starts to panic lights goes and I start to hear bone-crushing noises.
''Amanda, are you still here?''
''Yes, I don’t know what to do.'' her voice is disturbingly calm.
I feel a sharp pain on my spine I try to move my arms but I can’t even get myself to move my fingers. I can only breathe and keep listening to other people screaming in pain. I try to speak to Amanda but every time I try to speak I run out of the air and I feel a heavy pain in my chest.
I feel someone is breathing in my right ear, ''My papa says hi.''
-----------------------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story- | 2020-07-16T11:38:18 | 2020-07-16T09:20:38 | 1,603 | 12 |
[WP] You may write a story where the protagonist has a regular day BUT they must also die a horrific death at the end. But there is a twist: All stories after the 1st must begin with their protagonist seeing the protagonist of the previous story dying.
Keep everything canon ;)
( P.S: Sort by Old ) | I awoke coughing my lungs out, there was a horrible cloud of dust covering my head as I brushed off small pieces of debris from my head, the dust still lingered no matter how much I swayed my arms about.
On either side of me were two cars with one that had come crashing down on top of them, luckily for me the other two cars had stopped it crushing my head to a pulp. There was a helicopter above with a fog light piercing through the dust, what had just happened? We were told to keep this place under quarantine, they never told us why though. Something horrible was happening, people were dying left right and center with no reasonable explanation. Their deaths could be explained but... today everybody was unlucky. Top officials had for some reason deemed this city of utmost importance and had immediately quarantined it, had they found something alien? what was that explosion? the mushroom cloud was green... nothing I'd seen before. Perhaps a military weapon prototype gone wrong?
I shuffled to my side and noticed a dead body, oh god... it was that guy I had just told to turn around, I felt bad about sending him away from his home but I couldn't show him that. I flinched away and scrambled to my feet before hitting my head on the car above, that freaking hurt. Another soldier was waiting for me out in the open as he grabbed my hands and helped to pull me out.
"Whats going on?" I asked him.
"Fuck knows, there was a giant explosion from the cities Walmart. They're sending soldiers in now, I heard gunfire earlier but that promptly stopped. They're sending more in now... you should have stayed unconscious." Suddenly a crazed looking woman ran up to me and my new friend, she was shouting some gibberish.
"Help me! help me!" she screamed at me.
"ma'am calm down what is the matter?" I asked her.
"They're... I'm a therapist and I ... I was with one of my patients and then... then her husband came in all crazy eyed with a knife and murdered her! I ... I managed to escape then this huge explosion happened and I... green eyed zombie human things started chasing me!" She finally stopped talking, what was she going on about? She started gagging, was she choking? Falling to her knees she puked up some green bile looking stuff and looked up at me, she smiled as her eyes turned a glazy green with black pulsing streaks. She charged at me and started biting at my face, jesus fucking crap that hurt! my new friend shot her in the head.
"Thanks man." I said turning to him, "You saved my fucking life I..." He looked at me funny, "Whats wrong?" I asked.
He drew his pistol in the blink of an eye and shot me square in the head.
___
I had to merge the last two stories together since they were so close to each other I didn't know which one to go off on.
more stories at /r/inooxwritings | *Well it looks like I answered a bit later than /u/Vestroyax... I'll keep this here but you guys should continue off his story instead of mine*
*****
Jim eased off the clutch, shifting as his Civic pulled away from the stoplight and onto the main thoroughfare. He hit the gas, accelerating to double the speed limit. It was still night, and the streets were empty. There were no birds chirping, children traveling to school, or even the occasional horn in the distance.
He was tired. The consulting firm where he worked rarely made him go overtime, and this sudden phone call took him by surprise. A large software project he'd been working on had failed in production, and that meant immediate work. The boss wanted them all back in the office within twenty minutes.
Yes, even if it was five in the morning. Even after a party at Barbara's house, where he'd drunk a fair amount and got home at three. He'd taken a few pills to ease the hangover, and he was happy there was no traffic on the road.
Ahead of him, lights flashed. There was a railroad crossing, and freight trains often left in the early morning to prevent stopping up traffic.
Jim was completely exhausted by then. His mind slipped in and out of consciousness, and the flashing red meant nothing to him. The Civic swayed left and right, oblivious to his drunkenness. It hit the metal barrier, breaking it, and jammed against the second barrier with a sickening crunch. Steam leaked from the cracked radiator as the airbags knocked Jim out.
He wasn't awake to notice to bright headlamp of the locomotive glaring into his eyes, followed by the blaring air horn. The engineer hit the brakes, but the heavy train still smashed into the Civic at forty miles an hour.
The vehicle bounced hard, its left side completely flattened. It fell hard into a ditch as the train finally ground to a halt. By the time a passing motorist had arrived, Jim's body was completely unrecognizable. The metal body had enclosed him like a coffin, smashing his bones to bits and covering the dashboard with gore. A fire sparked from the leaked fuel, forcing the bystanders to move back.
Standing outside his locomotive, the engineer turned to look at the carnage, and slowly shook his head. | 2017-05-06T09:06:40 | 2017-05-06T07:54:14 | 46 | 13 |
[WP] In a world of superpowers, you became the most successful villain. Your power? To be able to hear the background music. | I've simply never experienced silence. Despite everything that might've went against it, I simply could not. Even if the room was just me and concrete walls, I could never hear anything but music.
The soft tapping of keys on a piano to create a small, but harmonious melody; the violins that occasionally played as an indicator of when things would get rough, and everything else in between.
I could hear it all. It was like an orchestra constantly following me. It was slightly calming at times.
&#x200B;
I felt like that might've played into the factor that made me become a villain in the first place. I enjoyed the sounds of stress that might've filled the room during a test. It amped me up. I enjoyed the dark and horrifying music that happened whenever people were fearful or emotional. It was wonderful in every way.
But how would I use this as a power? It's quite simple. I use this to figure out what people's emotions are and playing off of them. I can tell when people are feeling scared or tense, and I can use that to get whatever I may need.
Especially the people who try and "call me out" or "save the world from me".. It's such a pity that they try, because I can always sense a fault in their words. A paranoia. And I can play off of that, too... | It’s an incessant tapping.
An infectious beat.
An ear worm.
No matter the sound, the catchiness, it exists as a tool. Each background song tells me all I need to know about how to ruin a person. Sally likes country music? I destroy CMT’s locations. Bob fancies EDM? I attack the bass-filled clubs next. They never see me coming because they can’t hear it—the music vibrating off of their very auras.
You would expect this to be futile, an exercise in petty destruction of silly, little pleasures. I guess you haven’t had someone take away your beat, your rhythm, your *sound*.
Listen: when the world is silent, I have won. | 2019-05-16T12:13:27 | 2019-05-16T11:32:36 | 160 | 66 |
[WP] Upon their death, each individual must battle every living thing they killed to proceed to the afterlife. At the gates, a mild mannered person finds they are faced with an unexpected fight.
When I first thought of the prompt, Leiningen Versus the Ants part 2 seemed like it would be kind of amusing.
Have fun with it. | My last memories were of Carl and Phillip, my hunting mates: their screams as the man-eater ripped their throats, seconds before pouncing me, just enough time for me to draw my knife and hold it to my chest. Didn't do shit, he still mangled me all the same. I might have survived, if it wasn't for the weight of the beast crushing my ribcage. At least the copious amount of blood running from what was once my face didn't leave much time for me to suffocate.
But as soon as I feel the cold embrace of death, I see myself at a balcony overlooking some sort of arena. I can't see the end of it, and on the other two sides of the balcony, a similar place. Looks definitely weird, how can a balcony overlook three places at the same time? But somehow it did. Perched upon the balcony, overlooking the arena(s), an impossibly old man that seemed impossibly strong. He says, without turning:
"Always interesting, when one of you lot comes around. Even more when it is a group, ever more rare for a hunter party to commit themselves to death."
"Where are we?" Despite having his throat like a can of tuna opened in a hurry, by a bear, Carl's voice sounded normal.
"My children give many names to this place. You would know it as Purgatory."
"Are... are you god?" Phillip knelt even before he said the words, ever the devout Christian. He's and his wife were the only ones actually religious amidst our friends. Looks like they were the only ones who were right, too.
"Yes. A god, not the god. I have created mankind in my image, as some of your books say. But there are many, and they compete for your adoration. Most of them are afraid to let their children have freedom of will, but see themselves taken by your myriad ways. They are here to watch you."
I was getting antsy. Knowing that there was a god (and gods, even) was disconcerting... and I was getting a bad feeling from that arena.
"So, what do we do here? We're to atone for our sins, right?"
"In a way. Most sins can be, and often are, repaid in life. Sometimes there is a... how could I explain this in your terms... debt, so to speak. In those cases, the Gates of the Afterlife lead to this very balcony. To the final test. Of all sins, the most grave is taking a life. Even just for survival, for food or in war, it is still seen as disrespectful by all gods, maybe except for myself."
"You don't think it's bad?" Phillip was perplexed, killing is one of the big ones in the Bible.
"It is. But it is also part of your free will. And I love all my children the same, for their blissful charity or bloodthirsty confusion all the same. I accepted long ago that this was part of what you are, that in order to truly be part of the cycle, you would kill. But I do not look kindly on killing for sport."
The only time I saw Phil's face sink so low was when his wife found out he got drink and flirted with the yoga teacher. He hadn't even done anything other than flirt, but she still got (rightfully) angry. He never liked letting down anyone he cared about. Letting down the Allfather must sting a lot.
"Were it not for your righteous lives beside that killing, you might not have earned the right for this test. But you, my sons, made quite the effort towards your brethren, despite your thirst for the blood of other denizens of your world. For that, you get this... test. Or punishment, however you prefer to call it."
The moment was weird, but the man's solemn tone (and the fact we'd just been ripped to shreds) led me to believe his words. I sighed in relief and thanked Phil in my mind. It was his idea donating most of our fortunes to charity, and that seems to have helped mitigate some. The man resumed his explanation.
"Now, your test is a reflection of your sins. You shall face every soul whose life you cut short. Time has no meaning here, but don't let that fool you, for it is still a mighty task. You must be victorious once more, but now you will be the hunted. For your good deeds, you shall have a small wish after you select a weapon and see your foes. Choose from the table next to you."
Carl was first. Without a word, he took a semi auto hunting rifle, and saw the legion of creatures standing behind a man. It was his father, the first life he ever took, but that story is for another time.
"I want infinite ammunition."
"Ask, and you shall receive", said the Allfather, with a proud smile at the sight of his son's eagerness to
He jumped from the balcony and his arena faded amidst the sounds of gunfire and screams. Phil was next.
He chose a handgun, and a sea of animals writhed on the arena. He started hunting from an early age, and had the highest kill count by far.
"I want infinite ammo and explosive rounds."
"Ask and you shall receive", said the Allfather, with a content smile at his son's ingenuity.
Phil took the Allfather's hand, kissed it, and climbed down the balcony to a serenade of growling and explosive gunfire.
With almost every gun I had ever seen at my disposal, I opened a coy smile.
"My weapon isn't here."
"Are you certain of this choice, my son?" I shouldn't be surprised that he could read my mind.
"Yes, Father. I am." As soon as I said it, I felt the familiar touch of my knife's worn wooden handle.
I looked down and saw a massive black shape roaring amidst the crowd.
"I want to face them one by one."
"Ask and you shall receive", said the Allfather, with an amused grin. "Your brothers were just as brave, but as your kind wisely says, discretion is the better part of valor."
Emboldened by his words, I leapt from the balcony. | "Ah, Henry! So good to see you. We've got quite a line here waiting for a shot at you! Best get to it!"
Henry opened his eyes, profoundly disoriented.
"I'm....I'm not dead?" he asked the portly nurse in his room. The man looked confused for a moment.
"Wha......Oh! You must be confused. The transition can be a little jarring. Sorry for the confusion. It's my first day at this job. Anyway, to answer your question. Yes, you're dead. Dead as a doornail!"
Henry continued to stare at the man, who continued nervously onward, speaking slightly too quickly for Henry's confused mind to process.
"--I'm Reginald. I *was* your guardian angel. I'm sorry about the early death, the powers-that-be decided that they didn't want to wait any longer for your contest, so I smashed that 18 wheeler into your car. You'll be glad to know that the driver is fine. A little counselling and he'll be right as rain. Same with the EMTs that pulled the pieces of your corpse from your Miata. I really hope you'll forgive me. Orders are orders you know."
Henry stared blankly at the man...What was his name? Reginald? Then it clicked.
"YOU KILLED ME?! FOR SOME COMPETITION!?" he roared as the man named Reginald cowered behind an IV stand.
"I.... it....it wwasn't my choice. I *had* to kill you or I would be exiled. I wouldn't be able to have contact with another soul for all of eternity."
Henry's mind was starting to clear, and he resigned himself to the fact that he must be in Hell. It certainly didn't sound like any heaven he knew.
Reginald seemed to recognize the look on Henry's face. "No, this isn't Hell, though that is a common confusion to newcomers. Think of this like a sorting facility, a final test to see where someone should go. Those who pass go on to Heaven. Those who fail..." he dwindled off at the end.
Henry had more questions, "What happens to those who fail? What am I being asked to do? Why are you so grim?"
Reginald sighed, "Henry, I tried my best to protect you. Now I just have to watch. You will be required to defeat every entity you defeated in life, now or in the future. Usually, this means that someone will face a host of insects, small animals, and maybe a dog. Every so often, we get someone with more, or more varied animals. Ranchers, for instance, will face off against thousands of cows. I see the concern on your face. Don't worry, the cows only have the intelligence they attained in life, and the ranchers have some time to prepare. There have been very few ranchers who didn't make it within the requisite three attempts."
Henry was beginning to understand, "So I'm going to face-off against some insects, the odd mouse, and maybe the squirrel I hit last week with my car? Why do you look so grim?"
"Well, we haven't seen anyone with quite so many *people* to fight. Even Hitler and Stalin only had 50 million or so. You've got to fight 300 million people, plus the Billion-ish birds. Then there's the normal random assortment most-"
"You said 300 million people? *Why?* I was a good person. I never hurt anybody! I was vegan! How did I kill a billion birds? This has got to be some kind of sick practical joke." Henry said with frustration.
Reginald looked sadly at him, "Henry, unfortunately, when you ordered that vial of bird flu destroyed several years ago, you didn't follow lab policy to oversee its destruction. The night custodian accidentally cracked the vial as he threw out the biohazard bag and released the virus."
Henry stared at Reginald in horror, knowing what would come next as his former guardian angel continued, "The wind that day carried the virus particles to the flock of starlings that live about 300 m away. It took a while for the virus to mutate to affect people, but when it was all said and done, 300 million people were dead, as were billions of birds."
Henry was shocked. Then angry.
"Aren't you my guardian angel? Why didn't you protect me?"
Reginald looked at the floor in shame, "I didn't think it would affect you. I can only see dangers that happen during your lifetime, and the virus in the vial couldn't yet affect people. I had no way of knowing that it would lead to one of the worst pandemics in history. I knew you were dealing with something dangerous, but most viruses can't survive that long in the air. I should have checked. I completely failed you, and I'm sorry. I tried to appeal, but the pantheon hasn't had a good contest in a while. They denied my appeal. I'll miss you, Henry. Goodbye"
That was the last thing Henry heard before suddenly finding himself in an arena. The sky was swarming with birds, and hosts of grim-faced people stared at him. Their eyes burned with fury, and the birds dove toward him.
&#x200B;
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
Sorry if that is horrifically long. This is my first time posting here, and I got a little carried away. Hope you enjoy! | 2018-11-09T12:23:06 | 2018-11-09T12:17:57 | 37 | 22 |
[WP] After a hard intense labor your son is finally born. Just when you think you can breathe easy the doctor holds him up to reveal a baby with impossible spiky multi-colored hair. Gravely the doctor informs, “I’m sorry but it seems your son is the main protagonist.” | My wife looked at me and I knew what I had to do. We had read all the literature. So we trained and took classes just in case of this event. Our son the protagonist would not have his life ruined by the complications of his birth.
I handed my son over to my wife after looking at him and accepted what this would cost me. A price I would willingly pay for the rest of my life if it kept him safe. Crossing in front of my wife I extended my hand to the doctor.
"Thanks for -" and I slipped on some amniotic fluid that had gotten on the floor earlier. My arms pinwheeled theatrically and with a deftness that surprised me I ensured my pratfall resulted in my face landing directly on my wife's vagina. Spluttering, I attempted to get back up, but slipped again and fell back into a tray of instruments. Leaning into fate apparently worked in my favor as one of the tools lodged itself in my backside. That had been unintentional.
Lying on the floor my discomfort clear on my face I managed to smile at my wife, "I think that did it."
She smiled back in spite of her exhaustion, "I love you, and our son will one day come to understand the sacrifice you are making for him."
Everything would be all right. While I would be consigned to life of parental buffoonery, at least our family would stay intact. We would ensure his story wasn't a tragedy. | I felt the fear sink in right away. No. First I get pregnant as a man, then this. I never thought it could happen to me. You watch the documentaries and think this couldn't happen to me, but here I was with a starry eyed glowing child, his blue hair standing straight up. It all goes racing through my head at once, why me? How often will I die only to come back? How often will I endure the pain of losing a child? Will it be a simple slice of life or will the world as I know it cease to exist? Will I be the absent father character? I can feel the camera slipping from me to my child. It is beginning. I can hear the opening music. I can't fight.....the title card. | 2018-08-21T07:10:35 | 2018-08-21T06:37:28 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] The year is 2082. Queen Elizabeth is 156 years old. people are starting to get suspicious. | "Your majesty another of your grandchildren passed away this evening" spoke her lady in waiting her voice trembling in fear.
"William is gone now too? We shall see him off properly, Buckland Abbey seems like a suiting place this time" replied the queen in a somber voice.
"But your majesty the populace is concerned, they say by known laws of medicine yo--" the lady in waiting began before being cut off.
"Do you dare question your Queen!?" snapped the Queen leering at her servant.
"Of course not your majesty! I will take my leave" the servant exclaimed before scurrying out of the room.
The Queen walked up to the wall upon which familial portraits of house Windsor hung. Charles, Henry, William. As she followed the length of the wall she gazed upon the memories of her own bloodline. She stopped as she gazed upon the portrait of her father, King George VI. She fell back into a nearby chair no longer able to stop the tears pouring out of her eyes.
The year was 1940, in the aftermath of the great war people had falsely believed war had been ridden once and for all but the conflict that was in motion would change the course of human history as we know it. It seemed little could oppose the German Blitzkrieg sweeping across Europe and it was only a matter of time until Britain was under Nazi rule.
Princess Elizabeth, age 13 was summoned to her father's chambers late one evening before bed. Her father, King George, was under a great load of stress and hadn't been sleeping well for weeks.
"Father when will the fighting stop?" asked the princess as an air raid siren could be heard in the distance.
"I don't know Elizabeth I don't know! The Americans are denying our requests for aid saying it doesn't affect them, the old colonies aren't providing enough support, Britain is lost!" screamed the king knocking his drink of the floor.
Elizabeth gazed down at the wine now staining the carpet. "There must be something you can do father, you're the king!"
"There is Elizabeth but, I wasn't strong enough to do it!" shouted the king once more tossing a bust at the candelabra on the wall.
"Don't say that father, maybe I can help you!" exclaimed Elizabeth hoping to calm down her father.
Her father stopped and stared at his desk before slowly walking over to it and pulling a small ornate box out of the drawer "Do you mean that Elizabeth?"
"Of course it's part of my duty as a royal!" shouted the princess.
The king opened the box and pulled out a small clay chalice "The royal families greatest treasure" he whispered "Brought back from Jerusalem by Richard the first, the fabled cup of kings. I'm sure you are familiar enough with scripture and our history to know what that refers to?"
Elizabeth nodded timidly.
"Elizabeth, Legend says if one destined to rule our lands drinks from this chalice in time of great need our country will never fall, but they will forever be bound to this world as long as a single Englishman feels the need for a total family, I couldn't bring myself to live an eternal life, to see all those dear to my heart perish as I continue on" explained the king pouring wine into the cup.
The Queen awoke to her lady in waiting shaking her by the arm "Your majesty Your majesty are you alright? You spent the entire night in this chair!"
"I'm fine dear, it will take more than a bad sleep to get rid of me at this point" smiled the queen.
The lady in waiting smiled nervously before leaving the room.
The Queen gazed up at the wall once more and the faces of her departed family "All these years of continuously giving up the crowns power, soon I will join you all, I promise" | Welcome to episode 98 of The Crown Truth braincast. Keep sending in those letters if you want to be featured on my 100th episode spectacular!
First, this week, I want to address some of the radical statements that come out of channels I know you get recommended after listening to me. Sure, my ideas are out there. I say things the 'establishment' doesn't want you to hear. But let me be honest with you. The shoddy journalism and conspiracy mongering of Infinite Elizabeth, Elizardbeth, and Space Demon Queencast are not just incorrect, they are irresponsible and dangerous.
I provide evidence for each and every one of my claims. I cite my sources. You can find resource links in the show notes for each episode and corroborate my findings. In fact, I encourage you to do so! I want my audience, my countrymen, to read and think for themselves.
And to be very clear, there is *no* evidence that our queen is reptilian, was born in the center of the earth, arrived on an asteroid, or any of that nonsense. And I don't believe for a second that her grand plan is nearing completion, if she even has one! These guys are morons peddling nonsense to a credulous audience just so they can sell you their scanner-blocking implants and their psychic protein powder... and if you want to hear my debunking of their product claims, listen to episode 67, when I dug into all that stuff.
No, the hard evidence indicates that Elizabeth is a mutated version of a cuckoo bird, planted in the royal family during infancy and disguised as a human. She probably didn't realize herself that she was different until she hit 100 years of age and got that physical with the classified results. For more information about that exam, and the leaked documents that I believe tell of of the physician's findings, listen to episode 32.
We know that cuckoos have planted their young among human families before. If you weren't aware, 'cuck' was a pretty common insult in the tens and twenties. Typically these bird people exhibit disabilities, and many die at young ages, but her family's position granted Elizabeth the best medical care, and all her abnormalities were eliminated before she came of age.
The cuckoo is extremely physically resilient, as a way to make up for the disabilities that manifest when they masquerade as members of other species. Therefore, when Elizabeth was cured of those disabilities, her natural physical gifts were unlocked to live up to their full potential. Elizabeth was granted the gift of long life.
Royal doctors speculate that the cuckoo may live between 500 and 1,000 years. Myself, I lean toward the 1,000 figure. If you track the rate of Elizabeth's cellular deterioration, her natural longevity will begin to war out well after the year 3000.
It's time for a word from our sponsors, so if you like this show and you want to learn more of the truth about the bird people running our country, please buy a mattress from SleepGreen. They're pure cotton, even the springs! I love mine, and it definitely helps me sleep at night when I start feeling those beady bird eyes staring in at me through the window. | 2020-05-19T23:25:47 | 2020-05-19T22:41:03 | 527 | 30 |
[WP] With the anti-slavery coalition of humanity and three other races literally at war with the entire rest of the galaxy, the deities place bets on how long the coalition will last. All except one who smiles and says "you're not looking close enough," before betting on the coalition winning. | “You’re not looking close enough” the trickster God said
“They’re going to win”
What could almost be described as a laugh came from the Crocodilian war god of the Hamum-Tap
“Win? They are young, they are new, the Coalition has barely 20 colonies between them, the old order has hundreds!”
A smile went across the Trickster’s face “and that is why they will win, they’re not looking at their colonies and saying ‘how do we keep them as they are’, they’re looking at everyone else’s and asking ‘how do we make things better for them?’”
This time the interjection came from the ape like god of good governance from the Yung
“And what does that matter Trickster? Their forces are inferior, their fleets outnumbered and their armies outmatched, this war will be over before it has even begun, as it did with the last few alliances against us. They will be humbled, part of their populace taken, and will join the old order, so it is written, so it shall be done.”
“And you really don’t see why things will be different this time?” The trickster responded
“So tell us then friend” the otherwise silent fertility goddess asked, her non corporeal form having ascended to represent all pantheons many centuries before “what makes it different this time? The other players are the same, these humans you claim to represent being the only new factor, but they are few in number, and we have not seen one of their gods here since they left their homeworld”
“And that is why they’re going to win” the Trickster replied with great glee “for we can’t influence them! We can’t influence this war! Their gods are dead! They have killed them! I am only here due to the popularity of a long dead human trickster in their media! While all the other races of this war long ago unified under a single set of gods, they killed theirs by not unifying! None of their gods got the worship needed to take the dominant spot in their culture! Instead, they starved, and as they staved the people they looked towards for worship took control of the gods, remands them how they wanted to see them! Tempered their powers with philosophy, philosophy they’re already spreading to the rest of the galaxy! Your powers have no influence over them!”
The rest of the old gods looked at each other in horror, every other pantheon had come to accept their and their species part in the galaxy, and the thought of gods under the control of mortals terrified them!
At this terror, the trickster god Loki laughed “I represent them far more than you do your peoples, for they remade me in their image, and as a result my job here was to distract you, I’m just another part of their plan, a subconscious part, but a part none the less”
At this the various gods representing slavery burst in, declaring that near every mine, farm and factory was now in open revolt, the words of long dead humans like Voltaire, Marx and Nietzsche leading to rebellions across the galaxy, drawing the old powers fleets away, leaving them open to the smaller but unified fleets of the Coalition
“As I said” Loki gloated “you’re not looking close enough, you focused on the armies, when you should have been looking at the little people” | “A decade at most, they’ll fall apart when they see they’re getting nowhere. Who would continue to fight and die when they gain nothing from it?”
“Fall apart? They’ll be obliterated first! I give it a year before their armies are crushed and they beg for peace.”
The third one smiled- or rather, he emanated the feelings of amusement, self-assurance, and contempt that could only be described as a divine smile. “You two aren’t looking closely enough. The coalition will win, whether or not they hold together. Watch and see.”
******
The United Nations of Earth, the Federation of Cantor, and the United Yarran Planets had formed the Galactic Coalition of Freedom in an effort to end enslavement across the galaxy. The GCF were an odd trio- humanity was new to the galactic stage, having only recent left their solar system, and were entirely reliant on Cantoran ships, trading rare minerals to them in exchange for technology- the human planet had an extreme abundance of gold, more than almost any entire solar system. The Cantorans were a mostly pacifist people, with few wars in their own history and had never conducted one against another race, but had joined the humans out of principle- wholly unaware at first of how far the humans intended to go. The Yarrans, on the other hand, joined the humans for revenge. After a series of wars in the past few centuries, nearly two thirds of their people were enslaved across the galaxy. They had weapons, and some idea of warfighting, but lacked the manpower and industry to carry it out. The GCF were opposed by the Council of Independent Worlds, an organization with representation from all of the 32 intelligent races in the galaxy- except for humans- and all 218 independent states- except for the United Nations of Earth. After they joined the GCF, the Yarrans withdrew from the Council. After the Battle of Alpha Centauri (as it was called on earth) and the beginning of open hostilities, the Candoran representatives were arrested, tried, and expelled.
The Battle of Alpha Centauri occurred 18 months after the formation of the GCF. A fleet of 7 GCF ships raided a small mining outpost, detaining the mine operators and beginning humanitarian efforts towards the enslaved population there. One security guard was killed, and four injured. As the fleet began to return towards earth, however, they encountered reinforcements sent by the mining company- the GCF forces were annihilated in 19.89 seconds, the exact time it took for the mining company vessels to lock targets and fire their weapons. Humanity had a lot to learn about war in space. | 2021-09-20T19:16:47 | 2021-09-20T18:38:50 | 695 | 250 |
[WP]Write an entry into a diary from the perspective of your favorite video game character that makes us think of the game in a different way. | Dear diary,
Today was the hardest I have had to try not to revert to my old ways. I have lived with my lie for many years, for the sake of my family, but today I saw a man that reminded me of my past. He was wearing Daedric armor, with a battleaxe unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Pure power. He was covered from head to toe, and everywhere he went people seemed to look to him in awe. When I saw him, something stirred inside of me. The old me. I knew how easy it would be to murder him. My eyes went straight to where the weak point in the armor was. I had my dagger in hand, but I caught myself. I left that life for my family, I reminded myself. My wife and daughter would be devastated if I were to leave. However, the man saw me staring at him with cold eyes, so I said the first thing that came to mind. I said “I used to be an adventurer like you, but then I took an arrow in the knee”. Clumsy words, but it got the job done. He went about his way, and my grip on my dagger weakened as he left. I will not return to my old ways. The night mother must wait another day.
| Cycle 4.3.762.89
**Entry 4**
Time moves by and skies grow wide;
While things sprout minds and feel for life
I wait, seeing beyond the plights of flesh and mind and bone.
Eons sing my timeless call as I alone survive it all.
Somber things, they crawl and war.
Pitiful, weak and mortal. Believing me enemy, I alone possess the portal,
To a state beyond their own, past war, blight and tools of stone.
I am infinite, I am all.
I reside in knowledge unlimited,
In time and space uninhibited.
I am Gravemind, they are flesh. Sing your voice with mine
And transcend the coils of your mortal kind. | 2014-07-29T18:02:42 | 2014-07-29T17:38:29 | 31 | 14 |
[WP] One day, in an industrial accident, fire is found to have a new use. One we would have never expected. | Hylin limped to his forge.
He was a former Trian War veteran, a intergalactic war that waged for 75 years, against three different types of species, his tendon was ripped apart by a Kwi'Kili swordsman while protecting civilians from it's bloodlust, forever he was left with a limp even after years of intensive physical therapy. After his discharge, the military gave him a job in one of the most prestigious military industrial factories, he became one of the metalsmiths after the government found out about his blacksmithing background before his military career. It was probably some pity job due to the loss of his physical youth, a compensation.
His calloused and experienced hands lifted the molten metal, a new alloy created in a science lab and now being experimented on to see if it's of any use to the military, it's dark blue hue was different from other metals, it blended and moved like the ocean he once held dear.
Hylin was tired, after several hours of intensive experimental forging and smithing, he became annoyed at the overly tight safety procedures, and giant lumbering safety gear he had to wear to protect himself from the forging. If this was back in his hometown, he would only have to wear a thick leather apron that was a quarter the weight of the hunking armor he had to wear in the factory. Something about the Factory Unions and liability issues to war vets and a "headline waiting to happen".
After having to spend hours to move the metal only 5 inches, he put it down and tore off his safety gear, and brought out a thick blacksmithing apron instead. With this, he could move much more freely, and could finally do everything he was doing at twice the speed.
He was able to do everything with ease. He decided to smith it into a sword, a weapon that regained it's use after the military discovered that lasers and bulltes were impervious to the repulse shield bearing Chic'Itari. He cooled the metal in oil, it's fire giving out a the same royal blue hue as it's molten form.
He started to muse, after 8 hours of exhausting smithing, he was running on fumes, he forgot whether or not he cooled it in oil, plunged it back into the oil to make sure it was properly cooled.
This was a huge mistake,
As soon as he submerged it in the barrel the blade exploded, it's royal blue hue exploded to become a bright neon color, it's blade vibrating intensely, and it's fire flying everywhere.
The barrel was no more, molten to a metallic pool, and all the oil inside ignited, some of the fire reaching to his injured leg.
But, he didn't feel any thing burning...
The fire wasn't hot, but a warm tingle, that slowly spreaded from it's target, consuming and engulfing him entirely while giving him this rush of endorphins.
He assumed it was shock, that he would be dead in minutes.
But the fire wasn't destructive, it's neon blue blaze repaired him, the missing chunks of his legs that were lost from the war were slowly reforming, he felt a youthful energy that was once felt during the time of his war.
Hylin gasped for breath, the fire was slowly dying away and from it's ashes came a new and reformed leg, a stronger and almost perfect version of it's former self, he felt energized, and watched as the remaining sparks finally died out.
He picked up the blade, surprisingly undamaged and perfect, with no dents or scratches on it's smooth exterior.
He dipped the blade in a finer grade of oil, and threw it into the forge, the fire once again returning and giving it's healing properties.
Hylin smiled, an expression that has not occupied his face in years, he knew the military would want to keep this a secret, to only use for it's most elite, and let the common populace die in the countless wars they've thrown humanity in, they would only care for themselves.
Hylin would become Prometheus, and he will show them fire. | We took our pills, like good workers, before entering the cage into the mine, going deep. It has been a long time since people mined the top level coal veins. Industrial Mine and Oil had to delve farther into the Earth than people had thought possible. First oxygen tubes were how they kept us alive that far down, but miners kept coming up top with symptoms of the bends. Then, for a while, oxygen tanks and re-breathers were enough to keep miners like me supplied with fresh air for the twelve hour shift, after which a person needed a week in the decompression chamber. When even those coal deposits were exhausted, it was a lucky break that scientists came up with Oxylantin. One pill would allow a miner to stay underground for a week with no decompression sickness afterwards. They could even do away with the O2 tanks and just pump in surface air. Lucky. My family needs my income. Down we went, the elevators descending for what seemed like eternity.
"Stay off to the right." The foreman shouts as a hulking coal hauler ambles by, it's fifteen foot tall wheels slowly rotating. Eight of us scramble off to the side. We've been down here for days, alternating between working the mine and resting in the bunk areas. The equipment is in bad shape, but no one mentions it. Mining has always been a tough business. We do what we need to do, ignore what we need to ignore, in order to keep the mine open. No one notices the small spark that leaps off of the hauler's undercarriage. A stray flare from an electrical short. Something that a person could have smothered with a helmet, if they had had the foresight to do so.
Before we knew it the whole mine was in flames. The pressurized air, pumped down from above, and the coal dust, made for an explosive environment. I couldn't believe it. This is the stuff you read about in history textbooks, that old miners tell newbies to scare them during someone's first week in the chambers. This doesn't happen in the modern era.
Without even time to run from the conflagration, I too was engulfed, too shocked to feel any pain. My wife, my children, what would they do without me, I thought, as I expected to black out into the abyss of nothingness. I stayed conscious, however, even as I watched my skin melt from my bones, watched the eyes melt from my fellow miner's faces. I felt like I was floating. I could not see, but instead just knew what was around me, a disembodied soul. Was this what it was like to die? Was I going to heaven? It wasn't just me. The other miners near me were also there, somehow.
"Jack, this is something right here," one of my buddies thought to me. I instantly had full awareness of what was going on, down to the individual atoms of coal, the waves of infrared heat. I knew that the Oxylantin had absorbed the energy of the fires, and was keeping the energy of my consciousness together far past the point when my body dissociated. All that I was became a conscious wisp of dust.
"Wow, this is amazing! Can you feel that? Do you think we'll be able to live like this?" another miner thought in the distance.
I didn't know. As far as I was concerned this was a gift of just a little more time, and I had a family to say goodbye to. | 2015-03-25T12:33:40 | 2015-03-25T12:22:10 | 35 | 16 |
[WP] When the aliens arrived to conquer Earth, they announce that they rule via trial by combat. Whenever they invade a planet, their Emperor personally fights whoever rules that planet. They have never lost, but they didn't expect the Earth to have so many governments... |
“All hail Emperor Blargen Smargen Flarg, conqueror of the universe! Let the trial by combat begin! Your rulers will be vanquished. Your puny planet will be forfeit. Our victory is inevitable!”
The booming voice was emanating from a colossal silver sphere that hovered silently, two inches above the ground, in front of Buckingham Palace. The assembled leaders of Earth watched with trepidation as a human-sized portal opened in the side of the sphere. A ramp extended, tongue-like, prompting a flurry of kneeling and weapon-pointing from assorted security forces.
“Send in the first combatant!”
Justin Trudeau bounced eagerly towards the ramp, his red satin boxing shorts glinting in the sunlight. The remaining leaders watched in hope as Mr. Trudeau dodged and feinted up the ramp and disappeared inside. The portal slid closed and silence dropped as the crowd waited.
Five minutes later, the voice boomed again.
“Your first combatant is defeated! Emperor Blargen Smargen Flarg is ready to destroy your next ruler. Prepare to fight and lose!”
The portal re-opened and Mr. Trudeau crawled down the ramp, groaning, on his hands and knees, covered from head to toe in blue slime. His aides rushed forward to help him up, but recoiled when the stench of the slime hit their nostrils. Justin lay writhing on his back, feebly trying to wipe off the gunk with his boxing gloves.
“What happened in there?” shouted Donald Trump, hiding a smirk as he held his nose.
“It was awful,” moaned Justin. “I went in and there was nobody there, just this puddle of blue jelly on the floor. I trod in it and slipped, and it oozed up all around me and enveloped me. I kept trying to get up but it was too slippery, and the smell made my head spin. Then a voice said, “Do you submit?” and I said, “Yes”. Anything to get out of there!”
Donald shook his head in mock disappointment, enjoying seeing the handsome Canadian laid low. “You’ve let us down, Trudeau, but I always knew you were weak. This is a job for a real man.” Trump’s porcine eyes moved over the group of leaders, who stared on in shocked awe. Donald Trump was going to fight next?
Donald stood up and straightened his baseball cap. “Right then. Let’s do this.” He marched towards the leaders. “Putin, go show them how we do it here on earth!”
Vladimir Putin gave a begrudging grin and stepped forward. “You are right, my comrade. I AM a real man.” Putin ripped off his shirt revealing the steely torso of a Russian adonis. “I will fight like an ox for the glory of Russia!”
Putin disappeared inside the sphere. Less than a minute later the portal opened again and he slid headfirst back down the ramp on a wave of stinking slime. “We are doomed,” he gasped, “There is no way to fight such a creature!”
“Send in the next combatant! Make it somebody good this time!” boomed the alien voice.
There were no more volunteers. The leaders decided to pick straws. Theresa May gave a stifled sob as she drew the short straw. How could this have happened to her? If only she had resigned the leadership earlier, Boris Johnson would be standing in her place now. That would have served him right.
Theresa gathered herself together and started towards the ramp, her limbs rattling like a box of broken Twiglets. Just as she was about to ascend, an imperious voice echoed out behind her.
“Stop at once! We will not permit any more of this nonsense on our front lawn. We would like words with this Emperor Blargen Smargen Flarg.”
Theresa fell to her knees. “Your majesty!” she gasped, “You can’t hope to reason with this monster, and the fate of the world rests on us defeating him!”
Queen Elizabeth II tightened the knot of her headscarf and gripped her handbag tightly as her green wellington boots squeaked up the ramp. “One has ways of dealing with pests like this,” she declared grimly.
Theresa waited tearfully for her beloved queen to reappear, dreading the sight of blue slime soiling the stately British monarch.
The portal slid open and Queen Elizabeth stepped out, pristine apart from a small blob of slime clinging to one cheek. She reached up and wiped it off, then flicked it away with disdain.
The alien voice sounded much less bombastic when it announced, “The Emperor Blargen Smargen Flarg is honoured to have fought with you today. Your superiority in combat has been proven, and we will leave your planet, never to return. The mightiness of the Earth warriors will be spoken of throughout the universe from this day forward!”
As the Queen stepped away from the sphere, the ramp retracted and the portal slammed shut, and the sphere shot up into the sky. The leaders cheered and ran to Elizabeth, bowing and scraping in gratitude before her.
“Unbelievable!” exclaimed Trump. “How did an old girl like you manage to beat that monster?”
Queen Elizabeth II opened her handbag and pulled out a box of salt. “The same way one deals with slugs in one’s royal lettuce patch.” Everyone cheered again as she announced, “We would very much like to have a cup of tea after all that bother. All are welcome… oh, except you two, Mr. Trudeau, Mr. Putin, we will not be amused if you walk blue slime onto our palace carpets. Guards, take them to the Tower!”
“She meant to say “shower” I’m sure,” Theresa reassured the two worried men, as she watched her formidable majesty sail back into the palace for a well-earned cup of tea and a slice of fruit cake. It had been a very eventful day! | "Sir?", a small alien creature is shily standing behind a giant monstrosity.
"Not now.", the giant monstrosity faces a monitor and prepares to speak to all of humanity, "Inhabitants of earth, I'm Zorlac the conqueror of worlds. Our army is ready to ambush your planet, but I will give you one last chance to save your existence. I will fight the leader of planet earth. If victory is yours we will leave peacefully and never again threaten this world."
"Sir, please?", the small alien remains persistent.
"Feel free to speak, Teslac.", Zorlac sighs and turns of the monitor in front of him.
"Master, I think your plan won't work this time.", Teslac's voice trembles.
"You're always pessimistic. Where should it fail?", Zorlac pads Teslac's head, "We offer to fight there leader. They will accept because otherwise, they stand no chance of our advanced technology. Given my giant stature, I will easily win and we get the planet without hurting any of its resources. Easy peasy, every time."
"Yeah, normally I would agree.", Teslac hesitates shortly before he keeps speaking, "But this time there is no leader."
"What do you mean?", Zorlac looks heavily confused.
"I mean there is no single leader.", Teslac stops a moment to think about the following sentence, "I'm confused either. Apparently, they are everything but united. They have hundreds of politically independent pieces of land distributed over the planet. They call it states. Each of these states has its own leaders."
"Wait, leaders?", Zorlac confusion didn't get better.
"Yeah, this is very strange. Mostly, they have a collection or even several collections of leader, which are voting over decisions. And to make it even worse, the states are sometimes not fully independent but have contracts and higher level structures with leaders of their own.", Teslac's hesitation vanishes more and more while his explanation gets more technical.
"Ok, about how many humans are we talking?", Zorlac looks concerned.
"So far, about a few ten thousands."
"So far?", Zorlac starts to feel fear for the first time in a while.
"The worst part is still missing.", Teslac starts to get excited by explaining the fascinating new situation, "Most of the people I called leader are only temporary leaders. A lot of these states have some weird government system called democracy. The inhabitants of each state vote representatives for a given amount of time."
"So you're saying ...?", in the meantime, Zorlacs expression shows pure terror.
"Yep, you basically challenged large fractions of there population.", Teslac keeps talking while Zorlac completely tries to grasp the situation, "Of course we have no arena large enough to handle this. I think the best solution would be, to make the fight on the whole planet. We will encapsulate the states with actual leaders by forcefields."
"How should I win this?"
"Ah, good that you ask.", Teslac is completely in his element as an assistant, "I made a plan. Of course, you can't kill one after another. These proceation-machines will produce more humans than you can kill. You must act from underground and push them to complete annihilation by themselves. For this, it makes sense to start in a powerful state. I investigated these. China is no democracy. Be thankful. This spares yourself a large fraction of the population and these guys are crazy. They actively toxicate their most populated places. The most obvious choice would be USA. But somehow they allow each inhabitant to own deadly weapons. I don't understand why anyone wants to live there but you should definitely avoid this place. Germany is another possibility, but I found some weird shit in their history. I don't want to talk about it but believe me, as a foreign being you should avoid them. I would propose Russia, this seems a good point to start."
"This will take forever.", Zorlacs is completely desperate.
"Not really, I estimated a duration 150 of their sun cycles if everything goes well.", Teslac winks at Zorlac, "But believe me, there is a good chance that they will finish it by themselves way earlier."
"Is there no other possibility?"
"You're the leader.", Teslac shrugs his shoulders, "Of course, you can stop the whole thing but you have to live with the shame."
"You're right.", Zorlac is happy again, "I will use a compromise. That way I will keep my face and we will easily win."
He turns the monitor on.
"Hey inhabitants of this planet, Zorlac again.", he broadcasts to the world, "Your inability to accept that there are better and more capable than you and the resulting shit of a government system yielded some organizational issues. You're given the unique chance to choose your contestant in the coming fight."
He turns the monitor off and turns to Teslac, "Wasn't this a glorious solution?"
"Almost.", Teslac smiles sheepish, "The formulation 'inhabitants of this planet' was unfortunate. Did you, by any chance, read enough of the information of this planet to know what a grizzly bear is?"
"Come on", Zorlac groans. | 2019-06-24T04:00:33 | 2019-06-24T02:20:52 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] As a 6 year old child, you used to love writing and illustrating crazy monster stories. As a 36 year old adult, you found and begin reading your old stories to your children before bed. You start to notice eerie similarities between your children and the monsters. | I was cleaning out the crawlspace when I found the old journal. Actually it found me - I bent down to pick up a box and bumped against a nearby stack of them, and the journal fell out and hit me on the head. It was covered in dust and the remnants of old spider webs, and I chuckled at how fitting its dilapidated state was. Dust and cobwebs, perfect decorations for a child's book of imagined horrors.
Cleaning immediately dropped to the bottom of my list of priorities. I had been reading my old stories to the kids for years, but I had been through them all so many times, I was desperate for new material. The journal was an invaluable find and I had to review it right away.
I took it up to the living room and plopped down in my favorite chair. After (somewhat regretfully) brushing the cover clean, I opened it slowly, with great reverence. The inscription earned another nostalgic laugh:
*DAVID'S MONSTERPEDIA*
*Readers beware!*
I leafed idly through the pages for a while, enjoying the rush of memories that came with each old picture and description. My spelling had hardly improved since then, I had to admit. I was about to bring it up to my wife Maria to get her to scan it while she was working at the computer, but then an old favorite caught my eye.
*THE FLAMER: The Flamer is a normal-looking boy who always wares a hat, even in summer. But if you are aloen with him, he takes it off and his hair is mayed of FIRE!*
It struck me, suddenly, that this description perfectly matched our oldest son, Jake. Jake, in this, his 12th summer, had taken to wearing a beanie at all times - it was his first real fashion statement. Of course, The Flamer was just a manifestation of my strange, and long-past, childhood fear of gingers - it could have described any redheaded boy.
Nonetheless the coincidence unnerved me, just a little. I felt silly, but I decided to read the next page, just to assure myself of the book's essential randomness.
*THE LOOPY LICKER: The loopy licker is a girl with a long, curlie tonge. When she liks you its poison and she can curl it into a gun to shoot you!*
I frowned. Our daughter, Lupe, had recently discovered her ability to roll her tongue, and had been showing this trick (against the directions of myself and Maria) to everyone she met. Despite myself, I could feel the book beginning to tug at some deep instinct, like it was trying to tell me something that I wasn't quite understanding yet.
I read on.
*SCIZORFACE: Scizorface has a giant mettel head splitted down the middle to make sizzors for a chin. He cuts yer head off!*
Tommy's cleft chin.
Oh.
Oh FUCK.
I tossed the book on the floor and ran upstairs to the office. My loving wife was sitting at the computer desk and she turned to me wide-eyed as I burst into the room. I took a moment to catch my breath, and to consider whether I really wanted to know the truth of this... prophecy.
But I had to.
"We don't have red hair, Maria," I said. "We don't have cleft chins. And I can't... I can't roll my tongue."
She started to cry. | "And then he w- waked? Oh, I think this is supposed to be walked. And then he walked in to the room and growled, with his big red eyes and sharp teeth and *green* skin. But when I looked up at him, he looked like a normal person." I shivered after reading this. Not because I was afraid, but because the room was really cold for some reason. Okay, it was a little frightening.
"Daddy, that's pretty scary." I looked up at her. She seemed frightened but amused at the same time.
"Yeah, it is. The scary part is that you never know if someone is a person or a monster."
"Tell me more."
"Alright," I said. I looked back down at the book, but when I did I swear I saw a green flash out of the corner of my eye. I looked back up just to see my daughter waiting patiently for the next part of the story. My own childhood story must've gotten to my head. I guess I did have quite the imagination.
"Is everything okay, daddy?"
"Of course, darling. The next page says, 'Whenever you walk into a room with the monster, it became very, very cold.'" I shivered a little again. Where did I think this stuff up? "Hey, maybe we should stop for the night."
"No, daddy, keep going!"
"No, we have to stop for the night."
"Pleeeeease!"
"No, honey. Get some sleep."
I left the room and turned off the light. I sauntered back to my own room and fell down on the bed. What did that last page say? I couldn't remember for the life of me. It seemed that that entire part of my childhood was one long forgotten time. Hell, I could barely remember writing the damn thing.
I sighed, waited a few seconds, then picked up the floppy paper book from my side table and turned to the last page. In scribbled handwriting, it read: "They only change into real monsters when they are going to kill someone. If you see one run away."
I tossed the book to the side and tried not to think about it as I turned off the light and tried to fall asleep. All the while, I had this nagging thought in the back of my head.
What if? No. But maybe? It's impossible. But what if it's true? It can't be. It's impossible. But what if she is? There's no way I believe that. I drifted into a deep sleep arguing with myself.
The only thing that could wake me was a deep growling sound and the touch of long talons against my face.
---
To see all of my writing, please visit /r/ZachWrites! | 2016-07-19T15:42:24 | 2016-07-19T15:16:27 | 145 | 24 |
[WP] Galactic wars are always won by whoever finds the other first – there is simply no way to retaliate fast enough to a carpet bombing from a high orbit. Other civilizations are absolutely terrified of Terrans who are cocky enough to broadcast their presence loud and clear. | "Your Highness, " announced the reptilian. "We have intercepted a communication between Aldebaran and Sol."
"Terrans have been sending those signals left and right for decades now. What else is new, Minister?"
"It's the other way this time, your Highness. The Aldebarans replied to them."
"What?" The monarch was left speechless for a moment. "This is madness!", she continued, "The chances of surviving a first contact is less than five percent. The Terrans are the only civilization in the galaxy gambling with those odds and actively inviting their neighbors to visit them. Somehow, they must be able to detect incoming armadas and launch counter attacks with the fury of a super nova. Countless worlds must lay barren in their wake. Aldebarans are lazy, but they are sensible. Why would they invite such wrath?"
"With all due respect, your Highness, we have yet to document an actual Terran strike."
"If you are hereby volunteering to lead a scouting mission into their territory, Minister, I shall make our fastest ship available to you at once!"
"Err, no. No, your Highness, this won't be necessary. You eloquently stated the only logical conclusion and my purely academic remark was uncalled for. Please accept my apology."
The queen's skin was flashing with stripes of purple, which indicated either a sudden chill or a wave of anger. The minister discretely took one hand out of its glove to properly asses the room's temperature. Pretending to adjust his balance, he took a step back. Then another. An uncontrollable spasm was agitating his wings.
"We have been trading with Aldebaran for generations, " she said at last. "Our location must be everywhere in their archives, from their tax registries to their most famous works of art. After the Terrans are done with them, they will after us. This is what you have to understand, Minister."
"I understand the gravity of the situation, your Highness."
"What is the progress on the habitability of our colonies?", she asked.
"Colonies Alpha and Zeta could support a billion lives between the two of then, another 50 millions in colony Delta, your Highness."
"What of colonies Gamma and Psi?"
"We are at least one millennium away from making those habitable, most likely two."
"We have been foolish! Complacently foolish to invest so little in those colonies! Those hedonists from the senate will die in those luxurious metropolis that they insisted to build."
A fly flew by. The minister struggled to keep his eyes away from it. His instinct to catch it with a flick of his tongue seemed too strong. The tension was eroding his rationality bit by bit.
"Abolish all local growth quotas immediately, " the queen proclaimed. "All excess eggs shall be transported to the colonies."
"Understood, your Highness."
"Aldebaran shall be destroyed, absolutely. No atom shall be left will its quantum state intact."
"I, " the minister swallowed hard the inexistant saliva from his dry mouth. "I shall give the order to set the project in motion, your Highness."
"And Minister, " the queen added after a pause. "Give all their known colonies refugee status and a mandate of annexation if they want it. They don't deserve to suffer the stupidity of their leaders." | “It is the end of your world as you know it. Your organic and scientific advancements will be added to our own. On behalf of the Terran Empire, your world is now ours.”
These are the words which ring out to whichever world the Terrans decide to fall upon. Broadcasting from high orbit, their immense starfighters fill the skies, purposely positioning their vessels between the sun and the planet. Their starfighters, just like their empire, casting long shadows, blackening the ground beneath them.
Every star in the universe dreaded that fateful day. There was no escape, no resistance. Many had tried, the most notable coming from the Wallows from the Neyboune system, they saw the devastation of their neighbouring planets and mounted an assault. A valiant hero named Commander Adam rallied an armada of multiple worlds, an alliance of anti-Terran warriors.
That was over one hundred years ago, the closest anybody ever came to tumbling the Terran Empire.
Until now.
The Alliance had been preparing for decades, organising “The Adam Initiative”. An insurgent plan named after the man who died trying to end the galactic war. The Adam Initiative would be the Alliance’s darkest and most dangerous tactic ever attempted. A plan that would strike at the heart of the Terran Empire, a plan that would make them regret the fateful day they decided to step off of their own world.
For all the talk of organic and scientific advances, the Terrans were a slave to their past. They were hypocrites looking backwards, ignoring a brand new reality of different worlds and diverse populations, and constantly twisting reality to make it fit with their beliefs and religions. A wise man from the Gallant system once said the very powerful and the very stupid have one thing in common. They don’t alter their beliefs to fit the facts, they alter the facts to fit their beliefs.
It was with this knowledge that the Lockheart Initiative was born. The Alliance were hiding in the Dolve System, the system which intelligence had identified as the next the Terran’s would invade. In the Dolve System, the Alliance had hidden a man. A Terran male. A man who would step out of the shadows of the starfighters and make himself known to the Terrans. A man who would attack the Terrans at the object they honour most. Their past.
The man would announce himself as the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End. The man would make himself known as the Terran Messiah, the King of Kings.
The time was now.
“It is the end of your world as you know it. Your organic and scientific advancements will be added to our own. On behalf of the Terran Empire, your world is now ours.”
Showtime… | 2021-04-09T09:20:59 | 2021-04-09T06:40:05 | 80 | 57 |
[WP] By intergalactic law, wars between species cannot be fought in reality. Instead, representatives must battle in the mind with soldiers conjured by imagination. This is the true reason Earth has not yet been conquered by technologically superior aliens. Some need to learn the hard way. | I walked down the gangplank or my ship, my claws clicking against the cold steel as I made my way to the human representatives. I knew that compared to the humans I looked intimidating, my lithe form more akin to the animal they called a 'wolf' than any other animal. I could see a bead of sweat fall off of the American Presidents forehead, but admirably enough he did not back down. "Hello, humans," I growled, my voice twisting unnaturally to speak their words. My peoples language was not quite as sophisticated, but we were able to learn their language easily enough. "Are you ready to face the Xeniforms in mental battle?" The president nodded, motioning with his hairless hand for me to follow him into a facility. A flash of lightning lit up a decrepit sign, and I could see foreign letters lining it.
I noticed that bars were on most of the windows and rooms, orange uniformed humans watching me with various forms of interest. "What is this place?" I asked, running a claw across one of the bars. "Is it some sort of breeding facility? Maybe a farm of sorts?" The president followed my gaze and said, "No, this is a prison. This is where we keep criminals, most importantly the mentally unstable ones." I turned my gaze towards him, my six eyes staring at him incredulously. "You keep your criminals alive? Do your people not consume the weak and deviant?" The president shook his head, going noticeably pale. "Weak willed race," I muttered, taking my claws off of the cage bars. "Once we take over, this will change."
A human in a blue uniform came over from a massive door and, watching me from the corner of his eye, whispered into the presidents ear. I could only catch snippets of his speech, with "prisoner is unstable..." and "the meds are finally wearing off..." being the two biggest ones. The president just nodded and put his hand on the humans shoulder, saying "I know what I'm doing, John. Bring us to him." The human hesitated before nodding, taking out a ring of keys and unlocking various locks lining the door. The door swung open, showing a blank white room with a single figure strapped to a chair.
This human looked different than most other humans, both in looks and in attitude. Where the other humans had various shades of color of fur on their heads, like red or brown, the human in the chair had green fur. Their skin was pure white, like a white dwarf, and their lips were stained red. While everyone else had shown me various forms of fear, this person was utterly fearless, meeting my multi-eyed glare without flinching. The president gestured towards the figure and said, "Representative of Xeniforms, meet the Representative of the human race: John Doe."
The figure smiled widely, more animalistic than others I've seen. "Oh Mr. President," he cooed, "You know my name. I'm sure the guards have told you what I've done." The president shook his head and said, "I refuse to say that name. I will consider it, however, if you win this fight." The man frowned slightly before laughing maniacally. "Ok, fine. I'll play your game for now. Besides, the monster interests me." The president nodded to me before walking out, closing the door behind him. "He's all yours."
"Is this a joke?" I asked as the door visibly locked. "Are you saying that this criminal is the best humanity has to offer?"
"Oh, I wouldn't say the best," John Doe replied, stretching against his restraints. "A joke, though?" He leaned forward, his smile stretching even farther. "You're closer than you think."
"Whatever," I said, taking one of my claws out and pressing it against his forehead. "If this is what your people choose, so be it. It will be easier to take over your people this way." John Doe leaned forward until a drop of blood streaked down his forehead. "Do your worst," he growled, never losing his smile.
I closed my eyes and connected my mind to the man in front of me. I was confused as I couldn't get a firm hold, but eventually we connected and found ourselves in a dark space that stretched as far as we could see. "Are you ready, human?" I asked, a sword forming in my hands. The human looked around, his smile growing even wider. "Sure, sure. Just let me... liven up the place."
The space around us warped, and I was assaulted by a wave of pain and sound. Images flashed in front of my eyes, stories assaulting all of my senses. I could feel my skin- no my fur- burning away, turning my fur- no my skin- white. I could feel some sort of gas fill my lungs, stretching my muzzle upwards into a painful grimace. I fell down and coughed, blood pouring out of my mouth as a dark figure stood in front of me, intimidating yet comforting. "W-What the hell is happening?" I yelped, gripping my head. I glanced up and got a crowbar across the muzzle, bone cracking through my skin. I cried out as I got hit in the ribs, and I could hear my ribs crack. "What's happening? Don't you get it?" The man crowed, no longer wearing the orange uniform he had been wearing yet minutes before. He now wore a purple suit, my blood staining parts of it maroon, with a red flower. He leaned down and whispered, "You're in my head. That was a mistake you should never have made." He leaned back, and as the crowbar swung towards my head I could hear the last thing I would ever hear: laughter, manic and utterly insane. | Sure, the galaxy was big, but the multiverse was much bigger. And with the sheer amount of chaos it had to put up with, of course there had to be someone to clean things up every once in a while.
The Caravan was an organization dedicated to helping different universes, at least, it used to be before its members decided that they didn’t want to work anymore, settling down in a quiet universe off the grid. Everyone’s days of fighting were over, traded for a much more peaceful life of constructing unstable buildings, selling knick knacks they’d collected over their years of traveling, and digging the occasional massive hole for no reason.
Well, that is, mostly everyone. Except for Arroway.
Arroway scrolled through his iPod, mindlessly reading news articles from random universes. The multiverse was unpredictable, but with a bit of technical knowledge and a bit of luck, it wasn’t difficult to rig a device to the news feeds of different universes. Of course, this didn’t come without bugs, as some universes didn’t have the technology of others and could completely bust the machine, but it was worth the effort to get a digital glimpse of worlds nearby.
Unfortunately, one of those glitches struck at this exact moment, the screen of the device going black. Arroway caught a brief glimpse of his reflection, his angular features scrunched in frustration as he hissed through his teeth, flicking the screen a couple of times before the image returned. Sure, he knew 8,934 dead languages, could recite every Shakespeare play backwards, and had never lost a game of chess (Can’t lose if you steal all the pieces!), but technology had always seemed to elude him.
His dull, gray eyes flicked back to the article as he continued scrolling. However, after a few more moments of scanning, a few headlines caught his attention.
“HUMANS- KINGS OF NEW HORIZONS!!”
“SPACE RACE GONE WRONG!!”
“MENTAL WARFARE NOW IN FULL EFFECT!!”
…Mental warfare? Now this sounded like something he could tackle. He was a human after all, well, at least used to be. The man got to his feet, stretching before starting to root around for a teleporter in his closet. This was going to be interesting.
——————
“…State your name and business.”
A council of aliens stared down at Arroway, his lanky frame leaned casually against the edges of the gold encrusted platform he had been placed upon. He stood in some sort of grand castle-like structure, having been teleported right outside the doors to their palace. The guards had picked him up almost immediately, tossing him into the hall where their king resided to question him.
He drank in the image of this king now, brightly colored feathers pouring down the creature's form, a single stalk-like head rising from its center. Okay, weird, but Arroway could handle this. Anything was better than the universe full of evil squids.
A shiver ran down Arroway’s spine at the mere thought of that horrible place, but he brushed it away, leaning forward to speak.
“Name’s Arroway! What’s yours, feather duster?
The creature tilted its head slightly, its eyes glowing with a questioning stare as it quietly tried to decipher if “feather duster” was an insult. The results seemed to be inconclusive, as it ignored the statement, declaring, “My name is Jen’Sai’Ai’Nai’Vai’Kai. You still haven’t stated your business. What do you seek from our domain, creature?”
“Well, I’m here to ask ye to stop attackin’ the humans! It’s real impolite!” Arroway responded with a smirk. “I have come to do battle- er- whatever ye do!”
The chamber fell silent as the king simply stared at him.
“That’s right!” Arroway shouted as he took off his hat to spin it in his hand. “Let’s do that mental battle thingy! I win, ye leave the humans alone! You win, go kill em! Deal~?”
Whispers started to float throughout the room as the king’s voice boomed out, “You are foolish. Only humans are eligible for mental warfare. And you, clearly, are not one.”
Arroway’s confidence wavered, a pang of hurt slicing through his chest. He glanced down at his skin, once vibrant and warm, that now was cold and pale. He could feel his inky blood struggling to push through his veins, his heart hesitating between each beat.
He clenched his fists, looking up at the king with his steely eyes.
“I… used to be one. And I still carry the spirit of one,” he cautioned, choosing his words carefully.
“Fine then. It shall be put to the test.”
Arroway closed his eyes and nodded.
“I’m ready.”
He felt himself falling.
//Hi! This is my first time posting to this subreddit so if I did anything wrong please let me know! This is based off of a character/world I have already so I hope it fits the prompt well enough. Constructive criticism would be epic to receive and if I get motivation I will make a part 2 lol// | 2021-10-19T15:26:30 | 2021-10-19T11:03:03 | 253 | 47 |
[WP] Alien body snatchers come to invade Earth, but piloting a human body is challenging. | "Sir, we are a race of slimes. How am I expected to get used to these upper and lower limbs?"
Captain Ook, the other slime who had successfully managed to invade another human being, was too busy flopping around on the floor like a fish out of water to reply to me.
With a grunt, I managed to somehow get onto my knees. As I attempted to wobble forward, I immediately faceplanted.
"Sir, have we actually done any studies on these human beings? I'm not quite sure if they can slide along just like us superior beings can. I believe the two upper two limbs may be a possible way for humans to move. As for the longer bottom two limbs... Perhaps, they are just like a fish. You need to flick them in the air to propel yourself forward. The upper two limbs... Hm. This is rather perplexing".
There was no response.
"Captain?"
"tthbbbbbbbbbfft?"
The other human blew a raspberry, slapped himself in the face and bit his tongue all at the same time. Clearly, Captain Ook haven't managed to get the hang of his human limbs.
"Sir, I think you have made progress on using the tongue and the lower jaws. Remember, send a signal to the lower jaw and the tongue to use speech. Ensure to maintain control as your priority, otherwise the human will attempt to take his body back from you".
I could feel a slight tug at the back of my mind. The human was attempting to force his body away from me. Alas, poor human. It must be a terrible feeling, to be such an inferior species with such poor mind control. How could one function if one was unable to invade others mind? I mused on this for a bit as I managed to raise my hand somehow. It flopped to the ground again.
A human being entered the room.
"Dude, are you guys drunk or something? Because if you're not, I have to try whatever you guys are on".
"I give up control of the human being. Subject is too complex. There is four limbs too many on this being. Send message back to the Mothership requesting Earth be left alone as a danger zone" Captain Ook crisp voice announced in my mind.
Ooze poured out of the second human body ears and formed into a slime puddle who then attempted to wobble away to safety. The second human just laid there shivering, while the third human being started freaking out and threw the nearest object - a lamp - at the slime. It missed. But the next object, a book, did not.
"What the hell is going on!? Dude, am I on LSD again because your brain is like, some weird sort of red slime. Oh dude, can you talk to me at all? I think I killed your brain, man. Hey Joe, what's going on with Aaron here? Did I kill him? I don't want to go to jail!"
The third human being appeared to have a mental break down. Strange, I didn't think there was a third slime trying to invade that one. Perhaps a weak subject.
"Requesting Mothership. Beam me up, this Earth appears to be full of idiots who are too stupid to take over. Also Captain Ook just got killed by a book. Humans are clearly dangerous when provoked."
-------------------
First submission - criticisms would be much appreciated.
Thank you everyone for your kind comments, you have all given me the confidence to participate on this subreddit more :) | *"I'm in."*
*"Zorg, tell me about this body."*
*"It's a bipedal. Has two fine motor limbs. Requires Earth's atmospheric composition."*
*"That's all you got?"*
*"Correct, sir. You'll be the first one to ride one."*
*"Okay.. Lets see... No manual found in brain. What an odd structure. Their brain seems to be wired so that everything is interconnected."*
**Command**: Open visual source.
White light. Blinking red light in left peripheral.
*"Zorg, doesn't this have an autopilot?"*
*"No sir, you will be creating those."*
*"Zorg, where am I getting this visual from?"*
*"This comes from a limb protruding from the top. They call it the head, sir."*
**Command**: Turn head left.
Red light displaying odd symbols.
*"Zorg, translate!"*
*"It appears to be a numerical system, most likely used to inform humans of the angle of the sun relative to their locations."*
**Command**: Accept all input streams.
Beeeep. Beeeeeep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.
Warmth bottom to three-quarters of entity. Left fine motor limb is perpendicular to entity. Right fine motor limb is -. Visual source is slowly growing in pain.
**Command**: Close visual source.
Visual source is no longer in pain.
*"Zorg, where is my right limb?"*
*"It appears to be beneath your entity, sir."*
**Command**: Extend right-limb.
Right limb flies out to perpendicular to entity, similar to left limb.
Right limb floods with pain.
*"ZORG! OW! THIS HURTS."*
*"Sir, it appears that with the entity on top of the limb caused the limb to have a restricted blood flow."*
*"So this thing, on top of not having a manual guide, is stuck using a veined blood system?"*
**Command**: Contract left-limb.
The tip of the left limb, with five digits, begins to curl up. The base of the digit turns inwards. Then the limb's extension folds in half. The closer of the two extensions is straight up in the air.
*"Zorg, how many organs contracted against each other?"*
*"It appears that there are one push to one pull organ, sir."*
**Command**: Release left-motor-limb-closer-extension.
The left limb drops, the rest of it, still contracted.
EDIT: On mobile, but I have to get to work. I will come back to finish this later.. Also my first submission.
2nd EDIT: Work sucks, I know. She left me roses by the stairs, surprises lets me know she cares. | 2014-05-18T14:50:52 | 2014-05-18T11:55:58 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | The human female Margaret Waller across from him sat quietly, puzzling over what had just been revealed to her.
"A war? Today is our first real confirmation that we're not alone in the universe, and the first thing we have to do is fight a war..." Her voice trailed off and her eyes became unfocused. "I suppose that's about right. The way life works."
The words had no ulterior motive behind them, yet Qard was simultaneously reassured and chilled by them. Reassured that this culture was so steeped in warfare that they believed it was the universal order of life, and chilled by the same fact. There was no doubt that humans could win this war, but there was also no doubt that they'd win many, many more after their first introduction to Fluan technology.
The human's eyes snapped back to him.
"I'm sorry about your plight, but we have no way to fight on the fronts you've specified. We've barely colonized our own solar system; we don't have the resources to wage an extra galactic war."
"Of course not," Qard said, a note of exasperation creeping into his voice. "We don't expect you to do so yourself. The Fluans have prepared a number of vessels capable of faster than light travel. A... fleet." He hesitated not because he didn't know the word, but because 'fleet' should never have been used to describe Fluan spacecraft. The assorted ships were used chiefly for exploration, business travel, or pleasure. The thought of a Fluan diplomacy yacht spitting death nearly made Qard himself violent.
"They have few weapons. Our engineers will work with you to outfit them with whatever you need or desire. Once the war is finished, whether we win or lose, the vessels will be yours to keep and study." Not the full truth. Humans could study them right up until The Council of Flua remotely detonated them. Humanity wasn't quite ready to join FTL civilizations yet.
"And how about our numbers?" She asked. "Including our colonies, we number 28 billion. A fraction of that would fight for you. Is that enough?"
"Your numbers are sufficient." He didn't mention that humans reproduced at an unusually high rate compared to the rest of known life forms. Their numbers weren't completely ideal, but they'd easily make up the difference.
"Excellent. Last question, then. I am the Primary Elected Leader of the Terra System. I can guarantee majority support by both the High Military and High Civilian Representatives. The question is, why should I? Why should we choose a war to introduce ourselves to the universe, and why yours?"
A question Qard had not been expecting. He and the Fluan Council had assumed that the novelty of a new form of fighting, and the vast resources offered by the galaxy at large, would be motivation enough.
"We have the respect of a great many civilizations. If you were to help us, the trade opportunities-"
"Then why aren't they fighting for you?" she cut in.
Qards felt his antennae stiffen, the equivalent of a human narrowing their eyes. "They fear our enemy more than they respect us. Defeat the Cramoul and you'll have respect as our allies, and fear as Cramoul's vanquishers. Humans have a great capacity for violence, which is why we come to you now. We face near extinction. You will prove your place among the greater civilizations by staving off genocide. It is a guarantee that no other planet will offer as much. And we have not communicated the location of your planet. If you lose, you can vanish to your home system without a trace. Even we Fluans found you by accident."
Her eyes became unfocused once more.
"Yes. Yes, I think that will do."
* * *
Fifteen years later, the Cramoul were pushed back to their homeworld. With victory accomplished and celebrations competed, humanity returned to Terra, and Flua betrayed them by detonating the FTL drives, as planned.
Four years after that, the Fluan Council surrendered to Primary Commander Margaret Waller, of Terra. | It was a last resort.
That's what needed to be done... The extinction of my race was at stake! No one could've known what they planned to do..
For those of you reading this log, My name is Kul'Thrat, Lead Biomancer of the Technocratic Hegemony. We were a peaceful race. We were masters of the sciences. Physics, Biology, Engineering, Medicine.. Everything. It was the one thing our race had above our galactic neighbors. For what seemed like an eternity, there was peace. It was all a ruse, of course. Those of us in the High Council knew what lurked inside the false promises of the peace. The Empire of the Von. A despotic, tyrannical empire set on destroying anything that didn't bend to their will.
The Von controlled such huge swathes of territory, that a small nuisance like the Technocracy could be completely eradicated and no one would bat an eye. This was the High Councils greatest fear. We tried to surround ourselves with allies, promising to advance all of their tech in return for protection. Everyone accepted at first. Then the Empire made their advance.
Like flies, the other Empires dropped out of the Alliance. We did not curse them, it was the smart thing to do. Of course, we tried to defend ourselves. We constructed massive weapons platforms to the best of our abilities. These worked, for a time. But the Von had endless legions to push against our small defense. One by one, our worlds fell. Our cities were glassed. Entire stations sucked into wormholes.
They were at the gates, when we sent out a distress to all Empires. We promised to share our FTL tech with whoever accepted our plea. At the time, the only means of travel were through the Artificial Wormholes.
One Empire accepted. Humanity.
They were a new race to the galactic scene, but one already feared for their tenacity. Within a short timespan of them being uplifted, they had already amassed one of the largest fleets in the local sector. Within hours, what seemed like their entire fleet warped into our system. Thousands of ships, of all sizes. It was a beautiful sight to behold. The planet erupted in celebration. Our Human Protectors had come to rescue us.
Anxiously, we waited for the Von to enter the system, and for the bloodbath to begin. It never came. For weeks we waited, nervously. The Humans seemed.. almost too calm. We should've known something was wrong.
A week, and four days after the Humans arrived in our system, we recieved the unconditional surrender of the Von Empire to the Humans. In excited confusion, we asked why they surrendered while they were winning.
Silently, they handed us a vidscreen, and exited the chamber.
It was the last transmission of a battleship in order around their Capital. A massive fortress of battlestations, and capital ships. All seemed normal, before a blinding flash of light covered the screen. Once it cleared.. We stared in horror. A black hole now resided where their capital once was. It began to destroy everything in the system, before the vid cut to static.
Over the course of the next few months, The Humans began to annex the territory of the former Von Empire. They had set themselves up to be the dominant power in the galaxy.
We are grateful to them, no doubt. But.. Scared. Very, very scared. | 2016-05-13T08:43:48 | 2016-05-13T08:23:35 | 31 | 16 |
[WP] Death has hourglasses for every person. One day, during a cleaning, he found a dust covered one that had rolled under his desk. | He found her sitting in a tree. Her legs dangled over the edge, her dusty feet kicking back and forth. It had taken him a while to find her. It wasn't as simple as it usually was. The hourglasses came with coordinates, of course. The tiny numbers ascribed on the bottom gave approximate locations. It wasn't a perfect system. Humans weren't as predictable as, say, ants. Things had gotten tricky when they domesticated the horse, for example. It had gotten worse with the engine. Obviously airplanes had kicked things into gear. But the hourglass makers, those bright-eyed creatures, were quick to adjust. They usually got it into the ballpark.
What they could not account for was Death letting an hourglass slip beneath his desk.
First, he brought it to his brothers and sisters, the others also known as Death. They passed it between themselves. Each Death took to their jobs differently, and each were assigned the appropriate hourglasses. The Death that came suddenly but quietly bent his long neck over the lost hourglass and frowned. He thrust it back and gave a quick shrug of his shoulders. The Death of sick children held the hourglass for a long time, cradling it in her warm and comforting arms, and smiled. "You lost it, huh? Just under your desk?" Her eyes twinkled. "Not such a bad idea." This last part she said quietly, under her breath, as she made her way back towards her own office.
Our Death, This Death, brushed a bit of dust and looked again at the location. It was all he had to go on, after all, and so he set off to see what he could find. It took a while, but he was diligent. Death always is. So he found her in a tree, just before a sunset, and the warm rays of the sun warmed her smooth skin. She watched him approach across the savanna. This was the first surprise. She could see him even from a distance. She could see him before he touched her.
The second surprise was, well, her youth. This Death was the Death of the fully lived. He usually came to bedsides, to wrinkled faces, often stealing in over the shoulders of family members. When he reached out to touch his people they were worn with the gifts and ravages of time. This one was still young, her limbs were still long, and her eyes were as clear as the ones who long ago had forged her hourglass.
She greeted him in a language This Death had not heard in hundreds of years. He was not in the habit of apologizing, but he did, now. He was standing below her, looking up. She shrugged her shoulders in a cheerful way and accepted the apology as is if it was perfunctory. Death was not in the habit of explaining himself, either, but he started to. She shook her head and laughed. Here was the third surprise. Human laughter! This Death had never heard such a thing, and it moved the parts of him that were human, those sleepy and untended parts he knew were there but almost never thought of.
He would know in a moment. When he reached out to place his palm against her chest, the only chest of a child he would ever touch, all would become known, as it always did. He would see the moment the hourglass fell, suspending her story in time. He would see her grow from an infant until the moment just before adolescence, a moment when she was care free, running with her siblings through her village. He would see her stop, her youth remaining as everyone around her aged, and how her tribe began to regard her with awe. She was chosen, a symbol of happiness and mystery. But hers was a small tribe in an encroaching world and he would see her remain until it was no longer possible, and then, with a young heart, he would see her set out for the horizon, a girl among the wilderness, where time had patterns but few consequences. It would be just a moment, now, before she jumped down to join him on the ground, the only person to see him, to truly see hi. When she did he would see her on night after endless night with her head tipped up to the stars. But for a moment all he saw was the girl, the tree, the dying sun, and she laughed again as she pushed herself toward him. |
Ok so what happened isn’t my fault I want to make that clear, it happened way before my time. But naturally it was blamed on me. My boss is kind of a huge dick. I like him most of the time but some days he gives me so much shit to do that I can’t even seem to keep track of my left elbow let alone a CD-126T termination form. Honestly, I don’t even know what he does all day I feel like I’m doing most of his work if not all of it. He’s older than dirt and is never in a good mood, nothing I do pleases him he just stays in his office with the doors closed while I sit at my desk and work my ass off all day.
I guess I’m ranting… Let me rewind a bit.
My name is Charlie and I am the second reaper there has ever been. I was hired a couple thousand years ago when the human’s population reached a size that my boss couldn’t handle on his own. We process the death of every being, but human deaths require a lot of paperwork and management. We work in a decent sized office on the second most infinite floor; sharing the floor with birth who is also a lot busier these days. It’s 2018 and times are strange.
Before we used to keep track of creature’s lives with hourglasses. They all had to be manually filled with the correct amount of sand, labeled, categorized, flipped, etc… It was time consuming but when you are an eternal being that works on your own schedule things don’t tend to have a huge amount of urgency. Now, however, almost everything is done on a computer. There are still a few rooms down the hall filled with timepieces, but they still have a long way to go before they run out. The computer is much more organized and user friendly. I deal with almost all deaths, but my boss deals with the really important ones. He’s usually the one that goes into the rooms down the hall and flips a piece then personally goes and collects the lives. Hercules, King Arthur, Gandhi, the big shot humans mostly. Well anyway, I was dropping off some forms for him to sign yesterday morning and he wasn’t there. It was weird, he hardly misses a day every few thousand years or so. I figured maybe he was in a meeting with the big guy upstairs, so I set the stack down on his desk and turned to leave. One of the loose papers on top blew off or something because I heard it slide to the floor. It took me a minute to find it but it handed under his desk. When I bent down to grab it I saw a time piece in the corner between partitions of the desk. It was dust and a really old model, I had never seen one of these in up close. It had been sideways, so no sand was flowing. That is very bad. One of the flaws about these old pieces is that if no sand is flowing then the soul doesn’t exist. If it stopped flowing then the person was suddenly snapped from existence and forgotten, with my passage or legitimate paperwork.
This could fuck up the whole universe.
I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’ve been waiting outside the big guy’s office for a while now while he and my boss talk. I’ve heard some yelling and I’m pretty nervous.
Fuck they’re calling me in. Wish me luck.
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Note: Pretty new at this, I dig constructive feedback but please don't be too harsh about spelling and grammar they aren't my strong suits. | 2018-10-03T07:45:35 | 2018-10-03T07:42:16 | 45 | 15 |
[WP] You are a unknown god forgotten by all - even other gods. One day, while sitting in your private realm, you hear a voice. It's the voice of a socially awkward teenage girl - who believes she just prayed to a random name she made up for comfort (an imaginary friend).
First Prompt.
an* - in first sentence | No one's said my name in five thousand years.
I suppose part of the reason is that no human alive has been able to express it in written form since the emergence of the Latin alphabet. I could spend several days trying to convince you to enunciate it perfectly, regardless of how I were to describe it, unless you were to somehow hear me say it. Chances are good that you'd sooner summon an eldritch abomination than recite the magic word - if you can call it a word - that would allow me to hear your voice for myself. That's probably the second-most significant part, in fact.
The most significant being the rise of organized religion, of course.
Because of this, I've been alone in what one might call a pocket dimension. My affinity for mortal culture has inspired me to remodel it to resemble a study - a library, if you will - from a time of relative antiquity. The tomes in here even resemble the books you have on Earth; I greatly enjoy reading them. Yes, my domain is a tranquil place, in part because I like it that way, and in part because no one ever visits.
You see, I am far from the only deity in the universe. Well, it's more of a "multi"-verse, given the existence of the various planes on which some of the others operate, but I digress. What sets me apart, though, is that there is nothing setting me apart; in fact, I am quite possibly the least noticed member of what is arguably the least renowned pantheon. My own "cousins" have neglected me since time immemorial.
Let me put it to you this way: All umpteen of the Ba'al umptuplets have *individually* received more recognition from mortalkind than I. This is particularly strange because the vast majority of them are completely mute.
That's not even getting into how I've been treated by the other gods... which is to say, not at all. Even members of my own pantheon, lowly as we all are, have forgotten I exist. The most attention I ever recall receiving was when we received a mysterious mandate barring us from meddling in the affairs of mortals without their consent - apparently all but the most significant pantheons (and in some cases, individual deities) got one, and thus began the rise of organized religion on Earth, which I mentioned earlier. For the sake of clarity, the edict mentioned *everyone*, including me.
I was devastated that the likelihood of encountering a human plummeted to near zero, yet I was ecstatic that some being, somewhere, remembered who I was... and to think it happened as recently as a few millennia ago.
The rest clearly didn't, though. No one's said my name in five thousand years.
Until now.
I was rocking back and forth in my facsimile of a recliner, entrenched in the works of the great mortal authors, when I heard my name contained within a sob. I could feel, and was greatly pained by, the sadness within it, but to my ears it was the most beautiful sound I'd heard since the time I surveyed the Earth at the dawn of human civilization and hearkened to the cries of its inhabitants from afar. Briefly transfixed by this noise, I stopped reading to investigate immediately after.
My scrying screen, having detected the mention of my name at long last, revealed the source of this welcome disturbance. It was an adolescent human female, and when I gazed upon her visage, I sighed, knowing just by the sight of her that she'd somehow said it by accident.
But she continued.
"I don't know if you can hear me," she stammered, "but I'm so lonely and I'd just like someone to talk to."
I leaned in and surveyed the screen, curious. She had such a lovely voice, even if it was marred slightly by sorrow - I wouldn't have been able to bear ignoring it.
"My friends - heh, 'friends,'" she chuckled sadly, "have abandoned me. My teachers won't call on me in class. Sometimes I think even my own family forgets I'm here."
This was a coincidence beyond all coincidences. By random chance, not only had she called me and allowed me to hear her plea, but the words she said stirred up something in me that gave me the divine power to reply.
"But you'll notice me, won't you?" she concluded.
After waiting for her to finish, I affected a mortal accent and transmitted my voice to her spirit... and while, in my opinion, it wasn't as beautiful or captivating as a real human one, it would do in a pinch.
"Yes," I assured her. "Hello."
She blinked, taken aback by my swift reply - possibly the fact that I did so at all.
"Don't be afraid," I hastily added. It was a quote from my favorite book, one the humans often read for guidance and comfort. Well, some of them. More to the point, I was glad to finally have the chance to use it.
Observing the screen, I noticed that more tears were welling up in her eyes, and she appeared to have goosebumps. I realized what must have happened.
*"Oh no,"* I thought to myself. *"I've frightened her."*
But just as quickly as she started shaking, she stopped, regaining her composure.
"Oh, hello," she said serenely. "It's nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you too," I replied as calmly as I could. On the inside, though, I was bursting with excitement over the fact that someone was finally talking to me - one of those wonderful mortals, no less.
-----
More to come, possibly. | *It couldn't be.*
"Hello?" I answered back.
"What the f-
"Don't freak out," I did my best to reassure the girl's voice, "Take a deep breath."
"Okay."
I heard a sharp intake followed by a deep sigh.
"Who are you?"
"I guess I'm... I'm the god you prayed to," I shrugged, "To be honest, I thought you prayed to me by mistake."
"I just picked a first and last name," the voice admitted, "I'm... I'm sorry to bother you."
"Now hold on," this was my first prayer over centuries, "What year is it and what's your name?"
A brief moment of silence.
"It's 2019..." the girl muttered, "And my name is Cynthia."
"Cynthia! Good to meet you!" I recollected myself, "Well, as you prayed to a God, what can I do for you?"
"Are you really a God? This isn't Darren, is it?"
Another moment of silence.
"Hello?" I called back.
"I checked around my room, and I have't eaten anything weird," she admitted, "So I guess you really are a god."
"Either that," I chuckled, "Or you've gone really crazy in the head."
She giggled back.
"There's that smile," I nodded in satisfaction, "How can I help you, Cynthia?"
"I... I'm at that awkward age." The voice admitted, "I don't have any confidence."
"Well, that's very common for teenagers," I judged her age, "I'm assuming you're in highschool?"
"Yes."
"That's perfectly normal, honey!" I sighed, "Everyone at that age is at a point where you don't know what you want to be. You're being molded by the people around you. You should take the time to find out who you want to be, not who everyone else wants you to be."
I heard an uncontrollable burst of crying as I realized there was more to this girl.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“My life… is crumbling around me,” I heard her sob, “My stepfather abuses me and my mother is so drunk half the time she doesn’t even know I’m here. I have no friends and… and…”
“But you have me.”
She fell silent.
“Cynthia,” I slowly began, “Let's start from the beginning. Tell me about yourself."
For the next half hour, she told me about her difficulty growing, not knowing whether there would be food on the table or not. Her scars, her pain – I felt every single one of them as she finally finished her final thought to me. What she had wanted to become when she grew up, and what she had dreamed of last night.
“You know, you’re the first person who’s listened to me in a long time,” she stifled a small chuckle, “That’s ironic, isn’t it? Someone I can’t even see is the closest thing I’ve ever felt to.”
A sinking sadness hit my chest as I took a deep breath.
“I’ll be here for you, Cynthia. Whenever you pray, I’ll be here to listen.”
“I… I think I know what I have to do now,” her crying had stopped, “I wish people could only be like you more.”
“If I was your dad, I’d take you with open arms,” I reassured her, “I’m sure you’d be a wonderful daughter.”
A brief moment of silence as Cynthia said her last thoughts to me.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you, Cynthia.”
The connection was severed as I went back to lounging about in nothingness.
________________________________________________________________
*I had tried to reach Cynthia over the next few days but to no avail.*
*Hopefully, she didn't need me.*
*While I did miss the company, I knew that she was bettering her life.*
_____________________________________________________________
I was surprised when another deity had visited me. His long horns atop his crown seemed to add to the ominous dread he had brought from Hell.
“Lucifer,” I gave him a nervous smile, “How can I help you today?”
“Hey, I wasn’t sure where to find you.”
“Nobody does,” I chuckled, “Did you need something?”
“Actually, I had a newcomer who was asking for you. Said that she knew you.”
“Oh…”
“Her name was… Sarah? Cynthia?” the devil seemed to think about it for a minute, “Anyways, come on out.”
Behind his gargantuan figure, a small teenage girl walked out and waved weakly at me. Blood still flowing from the cuts in her wrists she sustained in her mortal life.
“Cynthia,” I gasped in horror, “What have you…”
“I came to join you,” she smiled at me, “Dad.”
__________________________________________________
Edited it. Took out John Cena. Might be better, might be worse. God bless /r/avukamu | 2016-03-01T14:03:33 | 2016-03-01T11:46:39 | 81 | 41 |
[WP] Your mission is to write the worst opening to a YA novel ever. How badly can you make us cringe? | Nobody is ever dethroning “My Immortal”
> Hi my name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that's how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Amy Lee (AN: if u don't know who she is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he's a major fucking hottie. I'm a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I'm also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I'm in the seventh year (I'm seventeen). I'm a goth (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside Hogwarts. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of preps stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them. | I was a strange girl, that’s what people had always told me.
It was because of my eyes. Blood red. Why?
Genetics.
Did it give me superpowers? Yes, of course it did.
What kind of superpowers?
Well….
I can summon and create the following:
Water
Ice
Oxygen
Carbon dioxide
Amethysts
Air
Cardboard
So, yeah. My life is quite strange. I don’t go to a normal school, I go to a school with other powerful kids. One is named Frosty, she’s jealous of me because of some reason.
It’s not like literally all the boys in school want to date me!
Also: my parents are dead :) | 2022-08-19T20:01:22 | 2022-08-19T19:36:37 | 55 | 30 |
[WP] After gaining the ability to see everyone's red strings of fate tying soul mates to each other. You realize your string extends past the sky. | "Red lines?"
"Yes, red lines"
"Coming out of people?"
"Yes"
"What do these red lines look like?"
"Like a thin piece of wool coming out the back of someone's neck. Usually they just drape and hang all slack but I've seen some that are really taut"
"And they connect people you say?"
"Yes. One neck to another. Though it's not often I see that"
"Do you see them on everyone?"
"Everyone. Absolutely everyone. Thankfully most are slack and just run across the floor but in busy places there can be a lot of taut ones running across my eyeline. Sometimes I can't see what's right in front of me"
"I see... ... ... can you touch them?"
"No. They seem so real and I've tried but my hand just passes straight through them"
"Have I got one?"
"Everyone, yours is currently draped over my lap. It runs down your shoulder, across the table, over my lap and under the door"
"Is it doing anything?"
"Not right now but it has been moving a bit, which makes me think you're connected to someone nearby, someone in the building. Yours moves a little when I hear certain footsteps in the corridor outside"
"Certain footsteps?"
"High heels... ... ... Jane doesn't work here does she?"
"No but why is that relevant?"
"I don't want to say"
"I can't help you if you don't tell me everything"
"You'll laugh"
"I'm a professional... I won't laugh"
"I've not just plucked this theory out of thin air, I've seen these lines for two weeks now, you better not laugh"
"Rich, I'm not going to laugh. As your best friend and now a very intrigued medical professional, please tell me"
"Soulmates"
"... ... ... Soulmates?"
"You're laughing"
"I'm not!"
"Yes you are! You're stifling it!"
"Alright I'm sorry! This is just so weird! I'd say you were on drugs if I didn't know you better!"
"Just hear me out"
"Okay go on, I'm sorry... soulmates..."
"Two weeks ago was my wedding"
"I know, I was your best man Rich"
"The lines started when I was standing at the altar, when I thought I was going to faint. One connected Mum and Dad, one connected my sister and Matt, there wasn't one between you and Jane, which doesn't surprise me because you two are terrible together and I can only assume she's the soulmate of Satan... interestingly hers did go downwards"
"Oi, there's nothing wrong with me and Jane!"
"Tell me you're not in love with the nurse who keeps walking past outside then?"
"Sssshhh!"
"See... ... anyway... there was also one between me and Jenny. A really taut one, there, between us as we stood in front of you all... ... ... and then it snapped.
"Snapped?"
"Yeah, it snapped right in front of me and for a moment I had no line. I felt panic right then and loneliness!... oh my God the loneliness, even for just a few seconds it was awful"
"So you don't have one?"
"No I do!... ... as soon as it snapped another just shot up straight in the air, out of the church and into the sky"
"Still there now?"
"Yep"
"Does it ever come down?"
"Sometimes"
"So your soulmate is an....."
"Alien, that's right, I'm like Star Lord from Guardians of the Galaxy, I keep waiting in the park in case I get picked up"
"Well I was going to say airline pilot, Rich"
| "I never thought the ISS move this fast..." my colleague said absent mindedly as we saw the rolling surface of the earth. "It's kinda mesmerizing, isn't it?"
"It's making me dizzy. I'm returning to the living quarter." I swam through the pressurized tube of ISS 3, one of five Low Earth Orbit space station commissioned by the UNSED. Officially, I was here as a microbiologist, unofficially as an undercover agent from New Siberia Republic, and privately, well.
I saw the first string when I was 5. It has different colors, connecting people, blue for families, yellow for best friends, red for romantic relationships.
A yellow string connected me to the person whom I left in the bridge. Sarah and I had long history back to the middle school, and she kept her promise to stay by my side even when I was going to the ISS 3.
Almost all of my blue string has been cut, but several thin lines still went from my body to various place on earth.
While my red, well, it went to different direction from earth. It went spacebound. It was the very reason I wanted to go to ISS 3, to find out if the one destined to be my love was on there, or at least on LEO level. Nope, it went straight away from earth, as if repulsed by the gravity.
I even went to an exploration mission on Mars once, just in the orbit, though, to inspect the growing cities of Angkasa Y programs. Nope, it still went away from the planet, it even vanished entirely when our station were sandwiched between earth and mars.
Sarah is the only one who knew about this. I sighed audibly as she entered the same room as I am.
"Still bothered by that?" she asked with concerned face.
"Nah, just, don't you think it's a bit cruel? Giving me ability to see the strings, only not to be able to see where my own ends. I mean, you're getting married next month, and here I am, still sulking over imaginary strings."
"You're overthinking this." she hugged me, softly patting my head. "No matter what happen, I'll always by your side, Emily."
"Yeah, except next month, when you will be on his side." whoops, it came a tad harsher than I intended.
"You envy me that much?"
"No, I don't mean that. Sorry."
We then sat in silence, before a warning blared into my earpiece. This is the only secret I kept from Sarah.
"A covert scout ship Aslekfar-97 malfunctioned when it passed through Mars orbit from Jupiter Covert Operative Station. ISS 3 is on collision course, I repeat, ISS 3 is in collision course. ETA-13 minutes"
"What the..." I left Sarah in the room as I notified the entire crew of ISS 3, no one questioned me as they entered the rescue capsule.
As I floated through the empty space in my rescue capsule, I saw the scout ship crashed into ISS 3 modular joints. And then I noticed.
My red string pierced right into the ship. | 2016-08-06T00:34:39 | 2016-08-05T23:39:07 | 73 | 15 |
[WP] The Seven Superpowers are the seven people who have unique super human abilities, and when they die, their abilities are transferred to a random person around the world. The World Government is hot on the trail of one of these Superpowers. | My wife had the news on when I got home from work. I prefer sitcoms, but I appreciate any time we are able to spend together, so I plopped down on the couch next to her.
"The United States Department of Homeland Security released a statement today that they had captured another one of the Super-Terrorists after a joint military operation with Russia and China this weekend," said the vanilla news woman. "Worldwide intelligence suggests that there is only one more of these people on the loose. Authorities do not have any information on the culprit..."
"Thank God!" said Tracy. "I feel a little safer every time one of them is caught."
My wife is fine, but we disagree on this topic. None of these terrorists had done anything wrong in public, but the government (or governments, I should say), apprehended them on charges, nonetheless. It seemed like something out of the movies -- people with special abilities captured and experimented on by the government. Tracy probably just wanted to remain ignorant to this, but with the recent string of fights, I could live with this minor transgression.
The next day was my day off. Tracy left for work early, and we didn't speak much. The uneventful day was sailing by, so I decided to cook dinner for a picnic in the backyard. It would be a special night for Tracy and me. Hopefully we could get back to the roots of our 21-year marriage. The meal wasn't special, and neither was the backyard: an open lawn with two satsuma trees we planted the day we moved in.
Tracy got home and I brought her outside. The picnic I set up made the corners of her mouth flicker to an almost-smile. I knew it would be a good night.
During the meal, one of the satsuma trees started to shake. There was no wind. A small figure was pulling at it.
"Do you see that?" I asked Tracy.
"I'm not sure... wait... who is tha..."
Her response was cut off when we saw her approach with a satsuma. A girl, no older than 7, walked to our table wearing a worn-out t-shirt and jeans; she was barefoot. She offered the fruit to me.
"I think she wants you to peel it," Tracy said. I could tell it had teeth marks; her attempts had failed.
I peeled the satsuma as the little girl curiously observed us. I had never seen her before. None of the neighbors had young kids, and there were only woods behind our house. When I finished peeling, I gave it back to her and she took a big bite. No words were spoken.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Tracy went to open it as I tried to talk to the kid. I heard Tracy open the door; the little girl's eyes opened wide, she gasped, and dropped the fruit. I turned around to see who had startled her from the doorway. It was some man in an official-looking suit, flashing a badge. I turned back around to the girl, only to have her disappear into nothing.
"Honey, where did that girl go?" called Tracy. "This man is looking for a child that matches her description."
"Well," I said, not moving my eyes from the spot she had just been. "I think she just teleported." | January 26th was the day I died. I remember, it was a Friday.
You see, some years ago there was a worldwide event that gave random people unhuman abilities. We're still not sure on the specifics of where they came from, but I think it must be extraterrestrial. Anyway, aside from that the mechanics of the whole thing are pretty well known. There are 7 powers, 7 people with powers and when one dies their power gets transfered to the next person in line.
When the powers first arose it caused a lot of havoc, most people who gained these powers used them to benefit themselves without causing the world much trouble. However, there have been a select few who went entirely rogue and tried to wipe everyone and everything out. They were on a total power trip or something.
Anyway, the originals mostly didn't last very long. It didn't take long for a renegade group to form to assassinate the power holders, trying to get the power to their group. It sucks because these people are so highly saught after you can hardly live a life after you're chosen.
Recently there haven't been many deaths of the 7, the current holders have become much harder to track and kill over the past few years. In fact, there hasn't been a switch in nearly a year now.
Well, this leads to the other situation. Those renegade groups I mentioned earlier, well it's a lot less likely for them to go after the power holders. You know, they have powers and aren't all that easy to kill. What's easy to do though is go for the dude who is next in line and pop them off. It's actually incredibly easy because when someone either gains a power or becomes next in line to gain a power, there is a 3d model of the person as well as their name that appears in the corner of everyone's eyes for at least a minute. It's like some shit straight out of a steam punk film, it's unreal.
Well, the last broad who was chosen as next in line, miss "Sandy Welch" has done a damn good job of surviving the assassination attempts because she lasted a long ass time.
However no one lives forever. She lasted 8 months, a lot of people thought maybe the renegades finally got the person they wanted.
Well, a lot of people thought that until January 26th when she apparently died.
I remember, I was sitting in the cafeteria next to co-workers and students at the school I work at and that all to familiar Soundwave took over indicating there was about to be a new sorry bastard unfortunate enough to be next in line for a power.
Well, that sorry bastard was me. | 2015-04-07T14:36:06 | 2015-04-07T13:31:20 | 73 | 21 |
[WP] You wake up in a tub of ice with a two insicions on your back and a note that reads "Why don't you have any kidneys? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?" | Worst hungover ever. And cold, oh god I hope I didn't lose my phone and wallet.
Wait... My mind slowly banishes the fog. I wasn't drinking last night, haven't had anything for the last few years. But I do feel like absolute shit.
I take in my shabby surroundings, a tub with ice and meltwater, a dirty bathroom, some mold in the corner, a chair with some neatly folded clothes next to the door.
I try to stand, but my chilled legs won't respond. I gather strength and use to my arms to flop out of the tub and onto the floor with the grace of a stranding whale, it's comfortably warm compared to the icy tub.
I'm wet and gain almost no traction on the bathroom floor, my legs still are still mostly dead weight. I spend the following ten minutes re-enacting the first emergence of higher life on land, awkwardly flopping and dragging myself to the pile of clothes, I prop myself against the wall and reach for the clothes and find a note on top of them. I read.
"Why don't you have any kidneys? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?"
I stare dumbfounded at the note. Then I remember what happened and I can't stop laughing, it hurts like hell in my back but I can't stop, oh god I'll probably laugh myself to death!
They had kidnapped me, shoved me into a black van. 10 feet from the door of the dialysis center I just emerged from. | "Aww fuck this won't be good. I'm in Chongqing so I'm sure this was done by the koruppted boys. The low level bitches who fucked my back up are being chewed out by their Capo right now I bet. He's going to tell his boss and that fat fuck will know exactly who I am.
It's easier getting lost in mainland China than most of the west but there's one problem. These mother fuckers are superstitious. You get discovered by a gang in the Americas and they have you on a horse taking gun fire from a sherif by nightfall. You get discovered here and all the sudden there's talk of cutting your dick off an eating it. Dick and hearts. These motherfuckers...."
Edit- no one else is willing to try and write but quick with the downvotes. Guess people don't like monologues | 2015-12-31T03:35:05 | 2015-12-30T20:45:14 | 143 | 25 |
[WP] You are a minion in the service of a dark lord. Your master has tasked you with creating and spreading a prophecy about a chosen one, the only person who can defeat him, so that the so-called "heroes" will stop resisting his rule and instead wait for their savior to arrive. | I grabbed the brush and made deep strokes. The fresh black paint glistened in the early morning as I hammered the paper onto the side of the general goods store.
*The chosen one is born! He will cleanse our world in his wake!*
The plan was simple.
My master, the evil Goblin King, wanted to take a different approach to his *hero* situation. The heroes were getting more bold and decisive, taking out more of his strongholds and soldiers than ever before. If the heroes continued at the rate they moved, the Goblin King and all of his loyal minions would be no more. I may not have been a King, but I was a damned good minion and I didn't want anything to change that by dying.
"We will give birth to a *chosen one*," my master said one night. "Not literally, but in all of the minds of the innocent, evil, and heroes alike. We will create a chosen one that is nothing more than a baby, then a child, then a teen--and by the time the chosen one is ready to assist the heroes in defeating me, it would have bought me enough time to sink my fangs in this world for good."
I remember I asked him, "but what of the heroes?" I stood bold near a bonfire. "What will make them halt their progress of besieging us? They've had nothing but success in recent times; would they truly stop and wait for a chosen one to mature?"
The face of the Goblin King made me sit back down. Quickly.
I wasn't surprised that I was tasked with doing most of the dirty work after that--especially after the beatings and torture, painting and hanging posters in the most treacherous parts of the world. Treacherous, that is if you're a goblin.
"What is this?" a deep-voiced man said as he yanked a freshly painted poster from my hand. "And why is it that only goblins are hanging up these posters around the Kingdom?"
"The chosen one is born," I said in my broken English. "He will rid us of villains like the Goblin King."
The tall man bellowed a deep, annoying laugh. "I thought most goblins were loyal to that wretched *king.*" He crumpled up the poster and tossed it into a puddle. "This town doesn't accept goblins."
"I'm not acquiring anything here," I said. "Just passing through."
"You're not welcomed here at all," the man said. "Now leave here. And if I see you hang up another one of these disgusting posters, we’ll see how green you will be once you're covered in your blood."
I shoved the loose papers and paint in my satchel and walked away. Down a road and away from the town. Away from the hate. The man would have probably received a reward for harming me. Doubled if he killed me--no justice for goblins.
*Hate is waiting for me at home, too,* I thought. *The Goblin King may be a goblin, but he sees me just as that man did. Filth. Nothing.*
I gazed over to a poster I had hung up on a message board on the way into town.
*The chosen one is born! He will cleanse our world in his wake!*
I took a deep breath and threw my satchel to the floor.
"That's where you were wrong, master," I said. "A chosen one was indeed born today. And I will cleanse this whole damned world until my last breath."
r/AJHWriting | I used to be a charlatan before meeting the master. Tricked many a man into giving me the contents of his purse, or leaving me alone ("guarding") their riches, and got a hefty amount of coin trought my life. Then i got old, and all my vices came back to haunt me. T'was a shame for one who used to dine with nobility (not that frequently, and many times i dined a noble's dinner without them, but semantics!) to beg at the streets, pretending to be a blind man, and deppending on a half-wit lowlife i met for protection and shelter.
But my shameful days ended when i heard about the master... He'd recruit any lowlife stupid enought to work for him, and used his twisted magic to fix those broken and strenghten the weak (as long as these weak were capable of working on an organized unity. Otherwise, they'd get the vanguard on his battles, or the flesh pits). And i thougt he'd fix me. And he did, for a price...
After talking to me once, his underling sent me up the chain of command all the way to the misinformation department (fucking enchantment wizards...) and they fixed my body up real good, gave me a hefty bonus (enhanced hearing and olfat, a basic course on reading feromones and lower empathic telepathy), but the price was high... First, i got blind. Apparently, there wasn't enought space in my skull to put everything they wanted, so no eyes. Second, i have the worst fucking job!
They said i should walk the word preaching how dastardly the master is, use my inside knowledge to "proove" I'm a profet, and explain how only a chosen one could defeat the Dark Lord! Of course, i only accepted because i thougt i could just run away, but i have to report regularly if i don't want my fucking head to explode! I'd dare to say i did a good job on my own way, however. Instead of preaching that a perfect savior would one day rise against the master, i described the chosen one in the most generic worlds i could think of - oh, and use those nifty powers of mine to read people's reactions and inflate their egos. Then i explain how the path of the hero is lonely and full of atribulations... How he'll have to forsake his comrades in order to achieve true power, yada yada, and mostly, how the lord has ears on every wall, and will sent actors to betray the chosen one. This way, dozens of adventurers believe themselves to be the hero, avoid almost every source of companionship, and die alone on goblin areas. And that's about it. Dunno if I'm doing much good, tho. Wars are won by lances in the thousands and sacks of food, not by sword saints. | 2021-03-17T21:24:21 | 2021-03-17T19:15:02 | 130 | 24 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | It's useful, in a general sort of way, to be seen by the galaxy at large as cute, harmless doofuses. Soft, fleshy, tiny little bipeds, always wanting to communicate. To most of them, we're about as threatening as a Labrador puppy.
Understand; our stellar neighborhood is a very scary place. Like Mos Eisly Cantina scary. You've got your hive mind "insectoid" races, your noncorporeal energy beings, and all manner of biologically acrobatic variations in between. And don't even get me started on the only other humanoids, the fucking Greys. Yikes. Those guys suck.
Anyway, when I say "in a general sort of way," it's because there are a few specific and distinct disadvantages to this perception, as well. One of them would be situations where the ambassador from Earth must appeal to the Council of Argherrech. Which is the situation that I, as said ambassador, had to face during what was later called "The VingVa Crisis."
The VingVa, known colloquially just the Ving or even simply V, were a particular obnoxious insectoid neighbor to earth. One day, without any prior notice, a Ving spacehive appeared only a few miles outside lunar orbit and began construction on an hyperspace corridor repeater site. And I don't have to tell you, the radiation those things throw off, when they're active, that close to Earth? Well. This kills the Labrador puppies.
Of course all attempts by the human authorities at communication were ignored. The Ving had communicated to the council that they consider humans a non-sentient lower life-form, and thus unworthy of inclusion in the council or in fact any form of recognition or communication. This was a common perception among hivemind species, who generally only recognized sentience of other hives. Politics, amiright?
As I approached the round which seated the members of the council, I was struck again bye how large of stature and claw and tooth most of them are. Quite intimidating. As I approached and climbed the tiny elevated platform where petitioners stood, I felt their alien perceptions tracking me. I spoke slowly and clearly into the translation assembly.
"Good day and high praises upon all of your excellencies, members of the prestigious and all-knowing Counsel of Argherrech..."
And then I went on like this for some time praising each member of the council individually and debasing myself before them. These guys LOVE flattery. Rather dreary and boring and if you don't mind I'll skip ahead to the important bits.
"...and so, I come before you today to seek the permission of the council to defend the human homeworld against this unlawful incursion into our space."
There was a silence as the counselors each finished receiving the translation. Though by policy the Ving never acknowledged any human communication, the first reaction was, in fact, from the Ving avatar. There was a series of twitching movements in the top third of it's upper facial appendages, which I had come to understand as a *very* rough analog to human laughter. Wonderful. What followed was a near 10 minute conversation among themselves that, of course, was not translated for my benefit. When they had finished their conference, Basthora, the "chair," spoke into his own translation assembly. What came out my end was a harsh, metallic, very robotic sounding voice.
"If VingVa make war, Human cannot survive. Council will order VingVa allow one earthcycle for evacuation of Humans."
Much as I'd expected.
"Ah, yes, and this is much appreciated, oh most noble and generous rulers, may your reign last an epoch. But, if I may, and with all respect due, I was sent here today by the leaders of Earth to seek the permission of this glorious council to do exactly that. To declare war on the VingVa, and to, erm, to defend ourselves."
Now the "laughter" was more pronounced - not just in the Ving avatar but in the forms of the others as well. A very brief untranslated conversation followed, but from what I had learned of their body language, the response was clear. Assent.
"If Humans wish extinction, they may fight the VingVa to the death. Council grants permission."
Of course, everyone knows what came next. We waited patiently for the V hive to finish constructing the terminal, and turn it on. Fifty H-bombs, casually dumped into the newly opened portal - a straight shot back to their homeworld. One more for the hive that built the damn thing. Funny thing, they didn't even bother trying to stop the tiny ship that did it. Never fired a single shot at it. They literally never knew what hit them. They saw us as so far beneath them, so insignificant, so weak, that even in total annihilation they did not comprehend the threat we posed to them. And they never will.
Because now, there are no more VingVa.
Yes, in a general sort of way, it is quite useful to be seen as cute, harmless doofuses. Though I'd wager that, in the future, maintaining that image may prove slightly more challenging. But, hey...what else are diplomats for?
Edit: a word | Vyxis Varix, Emperor of the Ruson Goar and Lord Commander of the Royal fleet closed his eyes and enjoyed a long drag from the cigarette between his fingers, the end glowing bright orange. One of the finer gifts the Humans had introduced to the galaxy. It is a shame that this might be the last time he would indulge in such simple pleasures. Through the gray smoke that billowed from his mouth, he saw the gleaming black throne room doors spiral open and his son, Jos, step through.
“Father,” his son said as he strutted his way down the long, onyx hall towards him. His footsteps echoed confidently in the otherwise silent chamber. When he reached the base of the throne, he kneeled and averted his eyes in respect. “It is good to be home and at your side once again.”
“Indeed,” Vyxis said with another puff of smoke. “I am pleased that you have returned to me, whole of body. Rise.” His son did so, beaming with pride. With cigarette in hand, Vyxis stood, reached out, pressed the burning end into his sons forehead.
Jos screamed in shock and recoiled, falling backwards onto his rear end. “What did you do that for!” He shrieked.
Vyxis took another drag, squatted beside his son and blew the smoke out in his sons face, who turned his head to avoid it. He did not recoil further, however. He knew better than that.
“I received grave communications today from General Brax,” Vyxis said as he stood and slowly removed the jacket of his empirical regalia. “Communications about you that have filled me with great disappointment and sorrow.” He folded his uniform neatly and placed it on the seat of his throne. He signaled for his guards to seize and hoist his son up off the ground. “You fucked up.”
He drove his fist hard into his sons stomach and the boy crumpled, the only thing keeping him on his feet being the guards.
“What did I do? Was is the Atrin? It was just some backwater planet.”
“Not that,” Vyxis said, punctuating it with another blow to the stomach.
“What?” Jos said, sputtering. “The cruiser? So what? We do it all the time.”
Vyxis shook his head. “It’s not what you did, son that angers me so. It’s who you did it to.”
Jos’ eyes searched for the answer. “Who? Those fucking weaklings?”
“Those fucking weaklings... are humans. We had a skirmish with them, long ago. They call them Babu Frin.”
Jos wrinkled his brow. “Babu Frin? The demon you used to scare me with as a child?
Vyxis nodded. “Well, the humans weren’t exactly Babu Frin. They are the ones who you call to kill fucking Babu Frin.”
Jos staggered. “Oh.”
Vyxis continued. “The humans are a species of focus, commitment and sheer fucking will... something you know very little about. I once saw them obliterate, three fucking fleets with a one ship, one fucking ship armed with one fucking weapon. Then suddenly one day they asked for peace. At the time I thought we had the upper hand, so I made a deal with them. I gave them an impossible task. A task no one could have pulled off. The species they buried for us those years laid the foundation of what we are now. And then my son, a few days after their beloved leader died, you invade and take their fucking dogs. And for what? For an exotic meal?
Jos steeled himself. “Father, I can make this right.”
Vyxis smiled a sympathetic smile. “Oh? How do you plan that?”
“By finishing what I started.”
Vyxis grabbed his son by the scruff of the neck and pulled him close to whisper harshly in his ear. “Did you not hear a fuckin' word I said?”
Vyxis’s eyes welled up. “Jos. Jos,” he said, trying his best to avoid choking up. “Listen! Huh? The humans will come for you, and you will do nothing because you can do nothing.” He steeled himself for what was to come. This was his son. But the war he just started would be the end of him. Vyxis himself could probably make a deal but the humans would not stop until they had Jos’ head on a spike. He hung his head and let his tears fall to the cold, black floor. “Get the fuck out of my sight.” | 2020-02-07T14:54:18 | 2020-02-07T13:27:54 | 58 | 41 |
[WP] You have the power to swap places with anyone, anywhere, at will. You've set up a business where you charge by the hour for tourists to swap places with you. Today is different, because your latest client sent an emergency request. It is a hostage. | One thing I know is that I ain't a hero. I've gone down the path before and it don't end pretty. I still give my mama weekly calls and every time, its the same ol' "you're wasting your talents. God gave you a tremendous gift and...". That's about when I tune out. I want to ask how she thinks I'm paying for the retirement home or how it was that dad is now buried 9 feet beneath dirt, but I don't. She's my mama and I ain't about to disrespect my mama.
I read the text again: *please, I'm in New York in a bank in Central Square. There's men with guns in here.*
My stomach wrings itself out and my heartbeat quickens. I'm like one of Pavlov's pups. Years of playing hero conditioned me for this and if I was just a dog, trained only to eat when told to, I'd close my eyes and find the client and play hero all over again. But I ain't a pup anymore and I've long since come to terms with what I've done.
Back then, I didn't know jack. I thought I was invincible with this power, thought I could save the god damn world. But I don't have power like that. My power is to run away, push consequences onto someone because I ain't fucking man enough to take them myself.
Water swells in my eyes and my fingers shudder, clasped around my cellphone. I grasp it so tightly, my knuckles drain of blood.
I know I can't. I'm too much of a coward. Always have been, always will be.
Bullet coming my way? I switch. Car about to crash? I switch. And if I don't have time to think, I switch with the first people that come to mind. Because I'm that scared of taking the hit myself.
I switch with people I just met that day, friends that I've known half my life, even the man who raised me better than this.
Tears spill down my chin and drip onto my phone.
I swallow my breath and delete the text. | Phone call: Monday 18th of June 13:54
“Bound you say? With guns pointed at your head you say? Pardon me asking, but exactly how are you calling me with bound hands?”
…
“They gave you a last phone call? How kind of them. Say, is there anyone you dislike in particular?”
…
“Haha! Yes, I can imagine. It’s never easy to like the person pointing a gun at your head. Anyone else? Preferably anyone who is not in the room with you.”
…
“Okay. I understand that it must be hard to think straight at this point in time. Let me rephrase the question. Any type of crime you absolutely can’t stand?”
…
“Kidnapping you say? I should have seen that coming. All right, I’m on it. Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll get you out of there in a jiffy.”
-
Tuesday 19th of June. Trending News:
1. Five resistance fighters miraculously found in previously occupied cells of state prison. No sign of previous prisoners, who were all convicted kidnappers.
2. RES claims to have captured six tourists and wishes to trade them for their leader. If their demands are not met, they’ll start executing them one by one. Officials claim to be unaware of any RES leaders in captivity.
3. Aliens appear to have waterparks.
| 2017-04-20T06:16:41 | 2017-04-20T05:25:03 | 52 | 11 |
[WP] You are short, skinny and well below average intelligence. Yet, you've been hired by a group of elite soldiers to help with some of their most dangerous missions. Your superpower: sheer dumb luck. No matter how close to death you come, reality always follows the path to your ultimate survival. | “Sargent, how much further?!”
I can feel my toes start to seize up with every step, as I hear the crunch of snow beneath my feet and the remnants of last night’s stormy winds across my face.
We had been marching across Siberia for days…*or was it weeks?* We were out of food and supplies, and then the storm hit. 90mph winds and 30 below zero, we had no choice but to keep marching under the night sky – millions of lives depended on our success. I was surrounded by men that trained their whole lives for situations like this, though I could see the pain and despair setting into their dark eyes, hidden behind hard-lined faces.
Yet, once again, I had given them another reason to keep me alive. Sheer. Dumb. Luck.
And once again, it showed itself useful as we stumbled upon a settlement at the edge of the tree line up ahead.
“You goddamn son of a bitch! I knew you were special!” the Lieutenant yelled, gasping between words. The Sargent remained silent, cold-stoned as ever.
Miraculously, the settlement was vacant and full of much needed food and supplies. It was the only place we’d come across in days marching through the icy plains and patches of dense forest trees. We quickly started a fire and ate to our hearts’ content. As I stared through the flames, between crackles and pops of the pine wood, I continued to wonder how many more times my luck would save us. Why was I chosen? Just a year ago I was back in Chicago, playing hoops with my friends and riding bikes after school. Now that seemed like a lifetime ago….
Once we mustered enough strength and energy, the Sargent quickly got us back on our way. We were a day behind schedule and couldn’t waste any more time. Luckily, the storm had subsided and the temperatures rose. The last few miles were upon us as we made way to the silo. We had to complete the mission. We couldn’t let the Russians proceed. And we most certainly were going to need my LUCK.
&#x200B;
*This is my first attempt at creative writing, but after reading some amazing pieces, I thought I'd give it a try...I was a little short on time so it is not as complete as I wanted, but it's a start!* | Everybody wondered why Sgt. Maj. Soap even got there at all. He couldn't swim fast. He couldn't read well. But worst of all...
...he couldn't even aim his gun.
Yes! That dude, that awful fricking dude, is no better than a fresh recruit.
But you should be surprised, because Sgt. Maj. Soap is the right hand man of Capt. Price! The world's legendary special ops specialist.
One day, Sgt. Maj. Soap and Capt. Price went to a city in Russia to hunt down an escaping convict.
"Hide! Enemy sniper fire!" Capt. Price yelled as he hid behind a car. "Soap! Take him out!"
But Sgt. Maj. Soap, ever the gullible boy, always took things to the next level. He ran, all the way up to the second floor of some Russian cafe, and took out the sniper.
As soon as he gave the go signal, soldiers rushed out of their hiding place, only to be shot down by another sniper hiding at another building.
Capt. Price spoke through the radio "This is Price. Soap, take down the other sniper."
"Sorry sir! I'm too busy." Replied Sgt. Maj. Soap.
"Busy with what?" Capt. Price yelled.
"You see, the sniper has this weird thing that explodes when you put it in the oven. Could you wait a bit so I could bake out this sniper?" Soap said. "Oh and by the way, the one who held the sniper is a lady. I don't hit girls so I let her go."
And to this very day, everyone from special ops wonders how these two even gets things done at all. | 2020-04-18T07:00:09 | 2020-04-18T03:05:13 | 78 | 53 |
[WP] On a distant planet, each of the five seasons lasts for 15 years. Tell us about the first day of spring on this world. | The first of Whitesend was the first day I ever set foot on my home planet. I'd lived my entire life up to that point on a station orbiting Treia, dreaming of the experiences waiting there for me. My favorite past time was to stay up at night with a lightstick under the sheets, reading my ancestors' accounts of their adventures. The books told of forests, rivers, oceans, mountains, and talked all about the weather and hardships they'd endured. One of my favorite stories was about the time my grandfather spent fifteen cycles underground during the Evenfall, surprising his close relatives upon their return. I never failed to tear up upon reading of his reunion with grandma.
And yet, I somehow envied the man. He'd never set foot in a space station whereas I'd been imprisoned in one for my entire life. It occurred to me that there had to have been a time before the ships and shuttles and stations when people had to wait out the Evenfall. According to our history books, no such time existed. For as long as our people had lived on Treia, we'd been retreating from the turbulent season that lasted a decade and a half.
My friends insisted that my grandfather's story was impossible. Even my own father told me to take the tale with a grain of salt. But I couldn't let it go. I had to believe it, mostly because I knew that there would be a generation like mine every hundred years that would spend their entire childhoods stagnating in a metal can. And some part of me hoped that technology could overcome. If not for my children, then for my children's children. And that, I knew, had to be the reason my grandfather did what he did.
It was my turn.
I'll never forget the first day I set foot on solid ground. I wept that day, feeling the wind on my face and the sun warm my back. I felt as if I'd finally become human on that day, and even though I knew I would never live to see the next Evenfall, I'd still do anything I could to see to it that the next generation could.
I suppose the greatest thing my grandfather ever did was to keep me from wondering if it was possible.
>The five seasons of Treia: Spring, the kindness. The welcoming. The fifteen years of peace that allows us all to gain our bearings once again. The age of love, where friendships blossom and new romances usher in the next generation.
>Summer, the age of production. Fifteen years of industry and growth. The professional's Utopia. A self-made man earns his fortune.
>Fall, the age of farewell. The lottery is conducted, and the next generation is chosen to reoccupy the stations. Fifteen years of politics, corruption, and greed during which the wealthy leverage as much influence as possible on the selection.
>Winter, during which we are left behind. Many of us are lucky enough to die during this age. Fifteen years of remembering. Fifteen years of watching the planet wither and die.
>Finally, the Evenfall. The atmosphere disintegrates. Gravity dissipates. The laws of physics no longer apply. Terraquakes wrack the planet's surface. Terrestrial life is forsaken.
>There was once a man foolish enough to try and survive the Evenfall. Although he was never seen again, his family kept his legacy alive through folklore and books passed down through the generations. The story begins with one of his son’s sons, who was so inspired by his grandfather’s story that he vowed to best the season of Evenfall once and for all. He is known as Mylar Krieer, the father of engineering and agriculture, and the reason modern society finally overcame the “season of superstition”.
/r/mspaintshoops | "Hey Grampa, what's it gonna be like?"
"What's what gonna be like?"
"GRAMPAAAAAAAAA!"
"What are you all riled up about?"
"GRAAAAAAAAAAAMPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
"Oh, do you mean Spring?"
"Duh, Grampa! What else would I be talking about?"
"I don't know, maybe Xorflaxian idol! The finale's this Tuesday and that Borforfnorf fellow has been on fire lately."
"Grampa, you're getting distraaaaaaaaacted!"
"You kids are so impatient these days."
"So what's it gonna beeeeeeeeeee like?"
"Well young one, it's gonna be warm outside. Like inside! You've never known anything but winter, but imagine going outside without your coat! And you can, because it feels like inside. Except sometimes it's even *better* than inside! I remember when I was about your age, I was born in a spring and I tell you, I'm very glad I've been around long enough to see another one.
"Also, all of the snow melts and the world turns so many colors. The trees are brown and their leaves are green, and the grass is green too, and the flowers come up and they're so many colors, yellows and purples and reds and blues. The lakes will melt, and the rivers and streams will run and the glaciers up on the mountains will melt just a little bit too, and they'll make these brooks that flow so fast that they make little babbling noises on the rocks as they come down the mountains! I'll take you to see one in a few years, the water is cold like ice water and as clean and clear as it gets!"
"Oh WOW Grampa! Have you seen ALL the seasons?"
"I have my dear, all five."
"What's your FAAAAVORITE?"
"Well child, I was born in Spring years and years ago. I was young though. After Spring comes summer, and I was a boy and a young man during Summer. Those were good times. I think that would be my favorite, Summer. After that, my favorite is Autumn, because it's a relief from the heat and all of the leaves on the trees turn crazy colors. You won't see it for quite some time, you'll be grown and old and I don't think I'll see it with you, but I think you'll like that one the most. Then after that I think I like Spring third, because it reminds me of being so young and carefree like you, but I don't remember too much of it. I'm looking forward to really getting to know this Spring, though. And after that Winter, because it's so cold! Snow is fun, but I'm old and can't run around and play like you can. You were lucky to have a childhood in Winter, child."
"What about the fifth season Grampa, the one between Summer and Autumn?"
"Good for you for remembering the order of the seasons, young one! But I'll be honest with you, NOBODY likes Road Construction." | 2016-01-14T10:28:39 | 2016-01-14T10:04:48 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] Your 6 year old daughter is laying on her bed, terrified. She says there’s a monster under her bed. To reassure her, you lay on the ground and check underneath, only to find your daughter, quivering. She whispers, “Daddy, there’s something on top of my bed...” | I stifle a yawn as I slowly open the door to Jemma's room. A tired smile worms its way onto my face at the sight of her tiny fingers curled over the sheet pulled over her head.
"Jemma," I whisper, "Why are you under your sheets?"
She's silent for a moment, but shakily lowers her blanket, "Daddy...something's under my bed." She fearfully whimpers.
A small sigh escapes my lips, "Are you sure it isn't Mrs. W?"
She quickly shakes her head, darting a hand under her blanket and showing me her stuffed seal.
I hold up my hands, "Alright, alright. I'll check it out."
I walk to her bed, kneeling down. Just then, she harshly whispers, "You won't see anything with the lights off!"
I roll my eyes, but reach out, flicking my hand and turning the lights on.
Then, something moved deeper under my daughter's bed.
I immediately dropped to my knees, recoiling at the sight of my daughter laying face-down on the floor, "Daddy, something's on my bed!" she says.
I sit-up, mind reeling.
"*AH!* Daddy, the closet!" my daughter, the one on the bed, shrieked.
Whirling around, I wrench the closet open.
"Daddy!" yet another version of my daughter exclaims underneath a pile of laundry.
Just then, it clicks, and I can't help but throw my head back, laughing.
"Daddy?" my daughter asks in reverb.
Instead of replying verbally, I snap my finger, and a chair floats in from the hall. Another snap, and my daughter's bed moves back a few feet, revealing the one hiding under the bed.
My daughters scream as they catch sight of one another, though it only lasts for a moment, after which they instead stare at each other confusedly.
"Jemma, the one on the bed," I clarify, "Do me a favor, tap the one beneath you on the shoulder."
Jemma-on-the-bed and Jemma-under-the-bed stare at me uncertainly, but then the one on top shrugs and does as asked. She then yelped as Jemma-under-the-bed disappears in a dull, red light.
Jemma-from-the-closet stared wide-eyed at the display, "What was that?"
"That, would be your power, sweetheart."
Two pairs of eyes lit up in excitement, "Really?!" They exclaim.
I smile widely, ruffling the hair on both their heads, "Yup. Now, why don't we all go downstairs and wait for Mommy, tell her the news?"
They both bob their heads, rushing for the door. However, Jemma-from-the-bed jumps back when she accidentally grabbs Jemma-from-the-closet by the shoulder, making her disappear in a flash of light.
Jemma looks over her shoulder sheepishly. I just shake my head, standing up, "Don't worry, accidents like that will happen. Let me tell you about when I first awakened *my* powers. I still don't think you're aunt ever forgave me for it."
| It wasn’t supposed to end like this.
I had tried to keep my daughter away from the monsters who followed me. The spirits that came in the night. Those that were destined to haunt my kind for all eternity. Now that the worst had happened, it was clear that I should have surrendered to them long ago.
Perhaps then they would have left her alone. Perhaps they wouldn’t have discovered what she truly was.
The formless monsters lurked in the shadows and flew upon the winds. They fit through even the smallest gaps, their shapeless bodies sliding through like black slime. It didn’t matter where we ran; nowhere was ever safe. At least, not for long. I should have remembered that.
However, they had grown wise, staying away for months at a time before striking. I had always been ready. But it had been four years since their last attempt, and I had grown soft. I had forgotten what my father had taught me and what his father had taught him.
I reached for my daughter’s translucent hand and gripped it in my own. Her spirit was limited outside of her body, weak from the fight that had forced it out. It was only the touch of the Dark-Blood that kept her from spiraling upwards to the land beyond.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly.
A heartbeat later, I was thrown into the bedroom wall. The shadow who had taken my daughter’s body rose from the bed like a serpent as I staggered to my feet.
The monster's presence had turned my daughter’s blonde hair a frigid white and had filled her eyes with black ink. The shadow stumbled towards me with a disjointed smile on its adopted face, still adjusting to new legs.
“A half-breed,” the shadow hissed. “What have you done, Tal?”
I cringed as blood began to pour from the corners of the child’s eyes. I knew I couldn’t fight her, even though it was no longer my daughter. It didn’t matter. I deserved to die.
The shadow fell to its knees upon its next step. Wait. Something was wrong.
I watched in bewilderment as the shadow was pulled from its host and the small, empty body became washed in light. Only it was no longer empty.
My daughter observed me in shock. “Daddy … what just happened?”
____
[r/creatorcorvin] (https://www.reddit.com/r/creatorcorvin/) for more stories.
| 2018-04-30T15:45:09 | 2018-04-30T14:00:25 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] Upon birth, babies are screened and given a random ability based on what their parents had. Your dad had telepathy and your mom could sing any song perfectly, even mimicking the voice. You were given the seemingly useless ability of playing songs into someone else's head. | I sulked at my grandfathers deathbed. He was a master at playing any instrument, a genius in the musical arts. It all started when he lost the ability to hear, then came his sight. Being the amazing man that he is, he would play feeling the vibrations. Even without his senses, he played just as he did on my 9th birthday. My mom would help sing, as unfortunately that was not a gift my grandfather had.
He played beautiful chords on the piano, switching to guitar, then to a trumpet, keeping the rhythm with my mom. She would always change her voice ever so slightly to be more jazzy, to sentimental, whatever it was. He played *We’ll meet again* by Vera Lynn, one of my moms favorite, and soon to be mine.
To 9 year old me, this was the best birthday gift I could ask for, my grandpa there to wish my happy birthday. The One Man Band was leaving town. Over the years he was very popular, charming everyone with the charismatic music man personality, but he would always play that same song at the end of every performance while everyone was leaving or grabbing drinks.
Most figured it was some sort of ‘Come Back Soon!’ to next performances, but I knew otherwise. It was a special song for me.
We would see a few of his shows, but most I would watch on TV.
“It’s time to go pumpkin.” My dad looked at me ushering me out. “Just.. give me a little more time.” I stared at my Grandfathers blank expression on the hospital bed. Old age was breaking him down, it was inevitable.
My dad exchanged glances with my mom, probably using telepathy to decide what to do. Eventually they left the room, and I sat solemnly with my grandfather, holding his hand.
My father was able to communicate to my grandfather with telepathy, and he would grin at his words or flutter his eyes. I sniffled into his side, squeezing his hand. Carefully, I listened in, playing music in his head. It started with the original *We’ll Meet Again* , then transforming into all the different covers he had done. The flute, euphonium, piano, guitar, marimba, all beautifully played and transmitted. I could hear it as well, softly playing as my tear dripped onto his hand.
His finger tapped on my palm.
A small rumble came from him, turning into a hum. Tapping his finger to the beat, his eyes fluttered recognizing the song.
Finally I transmitted the song with my own voice singing.
His face shifted, smiling.
**We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when.**
**Oh I know we’ll meet again some sunnyyy day..**
————————————————
sorry this is my first writing prompt and I wanted to do a different take on this so sorry if it’s bad haha | I grew up ear worming my friends and family to bits, even worse than just singing out loud all the time, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve found that there are ways to control my gift only to play specific parts of a song in someone’s head. If I really focus, I can even edit the sound of the voice and sometimes add, remove, or change the music in the song.
I finally got my first job as a vocal coach last year, and believe me, this is a miracle. Unlike my mom, I can’t hold a tune to save my life. I’ve been likened to a screeching cat, a hoarse rooster, very sharp nails on a chalk board... I think you get the idea. I always found it unfair because I love music and I want to help people express themselves.
That’s where I started polishing my gift and seeing if I could make changes to the songs I transfer into people’s minds, and it took weeks before I was able to shorten the songs at all. Now, after about three years, I can alter them. My mom used her gift to help me experiment, since she can mimic anyone’s voice perfectly. All I need is to hear a voice for ten seconds and I can alter the vocalist in a song I know to sound like the person in front of me.
Instead of trying to alter and improve their signing based on my voice, I can project the sound of themselves singing the song perfectly into their minds. I haven’t quite mastered getting it to sound like they sound to themselves, you know, how we hear ourselves differently, but I’ve been told that I’m getting really close.
So, what I do is listen along with them in my own mind and coach them on how to achieve that pitch. We can even alter it based on what they want to sound like, although a few times, my projection has outperformed what their vocal cords could handle.
Here’s the most exciting recent news. I’m going to Broadway to help a new performer really master the pitch their current coach wants them to achieve. I met with the coach, listened to a recording, and then made alterations in my projection to match what they want. The singer is pretty close, and I’m just psyched.
Watch out, world! I’m going to Broadway! | 2021-04-08T10:50:43 | 2021-04-08T10:46:33 | 159 | 42 |
[WP] In the future, children have stopped being able to die until they reach 25 years old. No one knows why. At first, it's seen as a blessing, but as the world adapts to it, the most sinister implications of this fact begin to unfold.
One more thing. Hopefully, I'd like it if the stories didn't address the cause of children not being able to die. It's just left as a mystery. I want to see how society might react in this situation.
But if you can work in an explanation in your story in an interesting way, that would be cool too. |
I remember a world where superheroes were stories of ink and paper. It was a world where gods were often considered mighty, but just, and humanity was considered sinful and weak by contrast.
That world is gone; immortality found an expiration date.
Don’t get me wrong. Humanity is still considered sinful and weak by contrast. Only, the requirements for becoming a god became a hell of a lot lighter. For twenty-five years we all get our spot on Olympus; for the next twenty-five, you beg for a ticket to Hell. And let me tell you, tickets are easy to come by in this world of mine.
And I’ve got plenty to give. Turns out, gods aren’t all that hard to kill.
I leaf through my own copy of *So You Want to be a Superhero*. It’s a neat little book, written by the Oh-So-Great-One, Machiavelli. That’s what he called himself, anyway. He was the first godkiller. He’s dead now, of course, but every job has its occupational hazards. His book is the only comprehensive list of the most active gods and where to find them. It’s the closest thing a godkiller has to a bible.
I comb through pages and pages of acne-filled faces. *Nerds* is what they would’ve been called in the old world; gods is the term they go by now. Unkillable, hormone-imbalanced bastards is more accurate. I finally stop on the page of a boy that goes by the name *Hercules*—scrawny little thing with a pedo-stache in the making. The book says he’s been involved in the deaths of thirteen people, my brother included.
I hold the book up, just to make sure. It’s him. Who knew Hercules played DDR. Patiently, I wait until his undershirt is adequately drenched in sweat.
"Water?" I ask.
The boy didn’t even look my way; he simply took the water and kept playing. That’s the way they are: arrogant. He would never suspect that an innocent non-immortal like me would dare slip poison into his drink. Even when he was passed out from the drug, he kept his superior scowl.
*This is for my brother, asshole*.
Tomorrow Hercules would wake up at the bottom of San Francisco Bay. There he would drown for eight years, too weak to remove the weights from his body. And on his twenty-fifth birthday, one more god would die.
| Three hundered years. The War had raged for three hundred years, to date.
Europe was ravaged, the Western half of the US was an irradiated wasteland, and much of China was burning. I have been serving for nine years. Tomorrow, my birthday. That marks the beginning of my tenth year.
It was a sudden change, the inability for children to die. Overnight, almost. Some said it was the equvalent of replacing the body's blood with pure adrenaline. Cell regeneration quintupulled. Essentially, children couldn't die.
The government said it was in response to the drastic increase in abortions after the food crisis of 2149. Preserving the children until they could mate to continue the species.
Whatever the reason, they saw the military applications right away. Sending unkillable soldiers to war. Genius, right? Only problem is, the enemy had them too. So we, the children of the apocalypse, fought.
Countries destroyed, many refugees now wander the ruins of the world. At least they still have that.
The generations that fought in The War (for there was no greater war) came back empty. Cellular regeneration doesn't remove pain. If anything, it multiplies it. Being shot through the heart and feeling your flesh itself sew back together before being shot again.
After twenty five, it wore off. Mortality restored. Then, you returned to what was left of your ruined country and tried to forget how many times you saw your eyes torn from your skull, only to be regrown, one color at a time.
Tomorrow, I turn twenty. Then, I have five more years. Hopefully I survive that long. Not my body. That will definetly survive. My soul, though? Not sure I have one anymore. | 2014-09-02T11:56:55 | 2014-09-02T11:08:01 | 32 | 18 |
[WP] Armageddon began, and it quickly became apparent that bullets beat swords and claws every single time. Now Heaven and Hell have joined in an uneasy alliance against the humans who have invaded Hell and begun using its endless fires as a power source. | “The Prince of Darkness, an Archangel, and a Redhead walk into a bar.”
I smiled. Lucifer and Michael said nothing. Even now they sat apart from one another. Forced against a common force, they still flanked me – not on some misguided attempt to surround me. It was simply the result of an aversion that has existed for millennia.
We sat at a deserted bar, purple seats, hardwood floors, and fans lazily shuffling the air carrying the smell of alcohol. It was an undeniably human place – which was exactly why I’d picked it. I nodded to the bartender who’d made the joke. He nodded, the ghost of a smile still on his lips and poured me a drink.
He moved to Lucifer – a red skinned man in an impeccable suit with a smoldering gaze and small tufts of horns sticking above his head – and raised his head in a question. Lucifer narrowed his eyes and shook his head. The bartender chuckled then moved to Michael. Michael was dark skinned, dressed in what I thought was a Toga, his powerful pure white wings folded on his back. He turned down drinks too.
“So, gentlemen,” I said, holding the glass loosely by the neck, gently rocking it back and forth, watching the drink swirl almost lazily in the glass.
“We are not men, mortal,” Michael said. Said didn’t really capture it. When he spoke, his voice echoed, booming, and filled your head. “You’d do best not to forget that.”
I showed him my teeth. “You’d do well to respect the president of the people who are about to end you.”
This time it was Lucifer who spoke. “We have not survived all of time for nothing, *human,*” he spat, his voice silky smooth, and my name a curse on his lips. “You will never defeat us, try as you might.”
“Funny you say that. What with considering you guys had the element of surprise. You were the aggressors, hell, some of the humans even joined *you!*” Fanatics. More than a tenth of the humans had fought along side the ones who’d tried to end us. No humans adorned their ranks anymore. There had been no need for orders – every bullet fired, every shell detonated – was aimed to human first, then to angel or demon. No one liked a traitor.
Regardless, I continued. “Now we own hell. We have control of your hellfire, and soon we will figure out a way into heaven. You will never threaten us again.”
Silence. The humans had beaten out the worst. From here on, especially with Hellfire augmenting our tech, humans were only getting stronger, while the angels and demons grew weaker.
“What do you want?” said Lucifer.
I allowed myself a real smile. “What? No bravado now? No threats?”
“Pride, mortal,” Michael growled. “It shall be your downfall.”
I put my glass on the table and spread my hands. “Pride seems to have served us pretty well thus far.”
Again that silence. I let it fill the room. They were the ones negotiating; I held all the power in this room.
“We will not give up heaven,” Michael said. “We would rather fight to the death than give it up.”
I turned toward Lucifer, expecting him to say something, to scream about a betrayal, but he looked coldly ahead, the only sign of tension being his clenched fist. “And the demons?” I asked.
Michael narrowed his eyes. “The Demons will be welcomed back from where they had Fallen. Now that we know who the real demons are, we will need all the deterrent we can get.”
Lucifer unlocked his jaws. “You get hell, all the hellfire, and we get a truce. A Binding.”
A Binding huh? It was a contract that could not be broken without the consent of all the parties. A treaty backed by a Binding was completely enforceable – it was Heaven’s most powerful sword and shield. It’s what guaranteed that this meeting was peaceful. Honestly, it was far more than I’d expected. I’d never expected, or even dreamed, of concessions this big.
“No,” I said.
“Pardon?” Michael asked.
“Did I stutter?” I shot back. “There is no deal. I’m here to demand your utter and complete surrender. You move out the way, you tell us how to get to heaven, and we let you live.”
“The sheer insolence –” Michael began but Lucifer cut him off.
“Then why call us here, mortal?” Lucifer said, his voice pitched low, lethal. “We will not surrender, you know that. Not to *humans.*” Again, that derision, as if it were a curse word.
“Why did you fail?” I asked.
Lucifer narrowed his eyes.
“You all had this planned since the beginning of time. You had to have foreseen guns. The technology. Yet you screwed up, how?”
“Why would I answer?” Lucifer said.
“It’s rhetorical question, Lucy,” I said, and at the nickname, his eyes blazed with literal fire for a moment before calming. “I know what happened. Your four horsemen who were supposed to nuke us –”
“Didn’t show!” Michael burst out. “One job, Hell had one job to do that would set the universe right, and they managed to bungle it! One of them didn’t show! That's why the humans were even able to fight back!” he was standing, his breathing heavy, eyes locked directly on Lucifer.
But Lucifer was staring wide eyed at me, and I watched the understanding flare in his eyes. I let the curtain slip and my power filled the room. The president of the humans, their greatest leader, the one who led them on the grandest conquest that would ever be. Not human at all.
Michael and Lucifer flinched back as if struck. I let the power coil around them, and they froze, not daring to even lift a finger. “This…this is not possible,” Lucifer managed. “You cannot be this powerful.”
I laughed. “The greatest war in history will do that to me,” I said. “Now. You said you wouldn’t surrender to a mortal. I ask you to reconsider. Will you surrender to War herself?”
***
(minor edits)
Due to popular demand: [Part 2: Ready for War](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/comments/9rus3o/fantasy_ready_for_war_war_2/?)
If you enjoyed, check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| When the demonic legions first opened the Gates of Hell and marched into the world, following in the wake of the four horsemen, we all thought that humanity was doomed. Widespread panic and despair broke out before we finally realized that bullets work perfectly fine on demonic flesh.
Of course, they came in such numbers that we were forced to use nuclear weapons, and as the warheads hammered into the endless forces of the damned, Earth became uninhabitable. Those of us that remained quickly realized that the only way to escape the nuclear winter was to follow the retreating demons back through the portal. We decided that the only way to survive was to conquer Hell itself.
Hell was a smoldering husk of brimstone and burning lava streams, with a massive gash in the bleeding sky, crackling through the texture of reality right above the Lake of Fire. When we first arrived, demons roamed the blasted lands, slaughtering and torturing whoever they could find. Despite our differences as humans, banding together came naturally to us. Fighting the demonic natives, taking their lands for ourselves.
Hell was a big place, though, and long wars broke out with the remaining demons. Many of us perished in the smoldering wastes, fighting for a new place to call our own. In the end, we came out victorious, but the price was high.
The survivors started rebuilding what had been stolen from us. It wasn’t exactly a prosperous new world, but we made do. Humans are quite good at adapting.
A long time has passed since then.
Instead of cages and racks, gleaming obsidian factories now rest on top of the volcanic mountains, using the immense pressures and high temperatures to fuel our new civilization and rebuild our lost technology. Mighty battleships cruise the burning lakes. Flourishing cities, like fruit baskets, perch high above the blackened ground on massive trays of hardened titanium.
We've congregated around the ideals of fairness and decency, determined to make our new home a better place for everyone. We found peace. For the first time, we thought that we would be fine – that we had finally–
\*\*\*
Sir Rottfell put the pen down and looked up from his writing. The walls of his office were heavily decorated with badges of honor and bravery. He limped over to the door, his body aching from his old war injuries.
A man dressed in nothing but a white toga waited outside. Weariness dug into every wrinkle in his leathery skin, and his shoulders slumped deeply. How he had made into the most heavily guarded mansion on this side of the Devil’s Cauldron was a mystery, but not as much a mystery as how he’d managed to keep his toga so white and clean. Everything down here sooner or later turned to black by the drifting ashes.
“This place is rather big,” the old man mumbled, cooling his forehead with the back of his hand. “Much bigger than I’m used to… and much warmer…”
“Well come on in then,” Sir Rottfell said. “Would you like something to drink, friend? What brings you to my humble home?”
The strange man’s bushy, white eyebrows rose, revealing a set of bright blue eyes, much too young for his worn down façade. He shook his head, sweat dribbling down his forehead.
“I’m afraid I’m a harbinger of bad news…” the man said, raking a wrinkled hand through his snowy beard. “Your conquests down here have caused a great deal of problems in Heaven… the last of the demonic legions have gathered outside the Pearly Gates… it has taken years, but the angels and demons have made a pact… and they have God on their side… war is coming… war is coming…”
The old man’s trembling knees finally gave in, and he fell to the floor in a heap, before dematerializing. A moment later a young girl dressed in the black uniform of the Infernal Guard rushed into the room.
“I’m so sorry… we have no idea where that man came from!” Julia said, looking around the room, finding only the toga on the floor. “What happened to him?”
Rottfell shook his head and poured himself a glass of icy whiskey. “Would you like something to drink?”
The young lieutenant was sweating but declined politely. She took a standing position near the door.
“Sir,” she said. “Who was that man? Where is he now?”
Her dirty platinum blonde locks were held tightly in a bun on top of her head. He ignored her question once again.
“War is coming,” Rottfell said, swirling the drink in his mouth – in his old days, he’d started liking the ice cubes more than the alcohol itself. “I trust the council is prepared?”
“War… who’s attacking us?”
“Apparently… *everyone.*” Rottfell shrugged.
“Everyone?” she mumbled. “They’ll want you back at the table, Sir!”
Rottfell laughed and started coughing. “I’m too old for this.”
“On behalf of all of Hell, *please*, we’ll need your insights.”
The old man closed the memoir he’d been writing with a bang and crossed the room. The few remaining tufts of gray hair on his head were sticking to his skin. He caught a pearl of perspiration rolling down his brow. In the reflection of the tiny drop he once again saw the cackling demons, roiling smog, and blood-spattered tanks from the war when humanity conquered Hell.
“I want you in charge of the army then,” Sir Rottfell said finally.
“But I’m just a lieutenant, Sir,” Julia said quickly. “There are better, more competent–”
Rottfell held up his hand. “Those are my terms!”
“I, uhm… I will inform the council.”
***
[**Part 2**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9rr6j3/wp_armageddon_began_and_it_quickly_became/e8jglw6/) | 2018-10-26T23:35:55 | 2018-10-26T23:33:13 | 3,531 | 363 |
[WP] Demons have finally discovered a way to summon humans and they take great joy in summoning humans to hell to do mundane chores in revenge for humans doing that to them for centuries. | " Ok so there was I, taking the last sip of whiskey in the bar, talking with my friends, when someone behind me says 'I call thee'. Suddenly, I was in a dark room and three shadows appeared, talking to themselves.
Now, I may be a retard, but I'm no fool. Friend of mine had the same experience, told me they demand something of you and let you go your merry way. However, I wasn't about to do a chore for free and ask nothing.
--Oh summoned one, we, poor immortals, ask something of you
--Puny demons, don't you know I only live 100 years? - I said, trying my hardest to appear like I was worth something- What do you offer that could possibly be worth wasting my precious time?- I smiled: an action that made their dark bodies shiver
--W-We can do something for you too, right guys?- the smaller shadow asked the others, and their agreed.- What do you wish for?
-- I'll think about it- The only thing i wanted was some whiskey, but my cup was empty already
They asked me to do some chores: sex with a demon girl,blessing some enemies, torturing Hitler. It was better than I expected"
"So, what did you gain from it? Since you came back, the only thing you have been doing is drinking whiskey from this cup all nigh-by the way, there's not even whiskey anymore, where did you ge...forget it. What did you wish for?"
I drink the rest of the whiskey in my cup, only for it to be instantly refilled to the half of it with some Jack Daniel's Old N 7. "Anyway, what I love about drinking- | "What the fuck Agi?" I said as the smoke rolled off me. The smell of brimstone hit my nostrils immediately and I gagged on the taste.
"I was in the middle of an exam?!" The frustration mounted and I was starting to get pissed at Agara. This had been the third time this week. Sure, she was a 15 foot tall lust deamon who had a lady boner for me, but I had shit to do. Practice, class, exams, and job left me with exactly zero hours for horny deamons.
"What?" She replied is a sultry voice. Pulling her blouse slightly down, reveling the skin underneath. "It's so hot down here, and I need a way to relax." I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily. I grabbed my bag and began to take off my polo.
15 minutes later we had just finished mile 2 with my dog Cerberus. Agara's face lit up when she looked at my dog. | 2020-07-01T15:40:50 | 2020-07-01T15:09:36 | 44 | 14 |
[WP] Due to an accident during your childhood, you stopped aging physically and became immortal. After a few years, it's clear that it would be difficult to hide that fact from your friends so you left without saying goodbye. Ridden with guilt, you paid them a visit when they are now old. | It's a lot easier to find out where people lived now. I still remembered having to write down addresses and meticulously planning how to get somewhere. But now, you can save so much time.
I stood at the doorstep of one Pierce Briggs. I found out that he's moved a couple of times in and around the world, including a curiously short-lived stay in Malaysia--but he ended up back here in Oxstead, between here and nowhere, where he was born. Of the friends I've had when I was a young adult--or more specifically, when they were young adults--he was the one that came back.
The front door was one I recognized from decades past, though the one in my memory was significantly less wracked with years of neglect, lines of dirt drooping down like streaks of tears, and significantly less of a splinter hazard. I took a deep breath, and knocked. There was silence.
I waited for a bit. Looked in the window beside, and couldn't decide if it was dark inside, or the window was caked with an indeterminate black.
Another knock. This time, there was the soft, unmistakeable sounds of someone moving slowly.
"Coming," a muffled voice said. I strained my ears, wondering if it was the one that I used to hear, and often punctuated with bright laughter.
The door swung open. Pierce, much older than I remembered, stood there. He was dressed as only people who no longer cared would, in what was a bathrobe that could at most be a few years younger than he was. Even through the balding, wrinkles, and liver spots, it was him. It was the eyes--ones I remembered shining with mischief and glee, now muddied like headlights through a stormy dirt road.
"Hi," I said, weakly.
His gaze lit up.
"You," Pierce said.
I shrunk a little, anticipating the door slamming in my face, and dejectedly walking away, likely with a few extra slivers of wood stuck to my apologetic face.
"Gregory," he said, before shaking his head. "What the hell am I saying? Are you... are you his son? You are... the spitting image of how he was."
I opened my mouth, ready to take the easy way out. But I gritted my teeth, and winced. I was here to make things right.
"I am," I said.
It was a lot harder to make things right than I thought.
"Oh, what the hell," Pierce grasped my shoulders with surprising strength. "Well, I know it ain't much, but would you like to come in?"
"I'll be delighted to," I smiled.
I was led into a room where dust bunnies had decided would be a nice, little town for retirement planning and settled down, before realizing that the any spare spot could be filled up with an extra kitten or twelve, and got immediately to planning generational wills. Pierce settled into a chair that clearly saw a lot of use, and I tried to pick one that didn't choke me that moment I sat on it.
"Greg's son, eh? What's your name?"
"... Greg... Jr.," I said, lamely.
"Ah," Pierce chuckled. "Not the creative type, is he?"
"I don't think so," I said.
"What are you doing here, anyway? And where's your father?"
"Uh," I looked away. "He... passed."
"Oh," Pierce mumbled.
"He always talked about his friends," I said, trying to make amends in some sort of roundabout way. "His old friends, in this town. He said he missed them, you know?"
"Yeah, and he leaves it to his son to visit us," Pierce said darkly.
"There were... reasons," I struggled.
"Reasons? I--" Pierce, belying his age, almost exploded upwards and outwards. But midway through the eruption, the volcano paused, the smoke visibly dissipating into the air. He sank back down again, I sighed.
"Sorry," he said, shaken. "I... it's not your fault or anything. Sorry."
I simply shook my head, stealing glances as his face changed from anger, to regret, to peace.
"Your father was a good friend, Junior. At least, until, for some reason, he just left," Pierce looked expectantly towards me. "Any idea why?"
*He became immortal, and felt that the secret was way too difficult to keep, and couldn't even make up a stupid excuse about moving to another state or far-flung country before leaving.*
"It was a sudden move," I said. "To... Armenia. I only just recently came back."
"He told you about us, Junior?"
"He did," I said, and I felt an inadvertent tug at the corners of my lips. "About the intra-group conflict over Mary?"
Pierce smiled.
"I can't forget that," he chuckled. "Look, I still maintain Ray was a bastard, alright? He didn't appreciate what he had, you know?"
"So suave and cool," I laughed. "And it took a long time, but we discovered it was just on the surface, you know? All that to cover up every little bit about himself. Thank god he finally got out of his shell."
"Yeah, yeah," Pierce nodded meaningfully. "Mary took him back. Still think it was a poor choice, but eh. They tried to send Greg a wedding invitation. Couldn't find his address."
"They got married? They actually went and did it," I smiled.
It was easy. It was simple. We were no longer in a dusty, disused room, but in one where the children desperately wanted to be adults, and upon blossoming to the approximate sizes to be considered fully-grown, desperately wanted to be children again. It was the place where bonds were forged, and they were tested with red-hot arguments, but only grew stronger.
Until I threw them away like rusted weapons, at least.
Before we knew it, night was upon us, and I found myself at the doorstep, partaking deeply in the night air--and clearing my nose.
"Thank you for having me, Pierce," I said.
"Thank you for coming, Gregory," he said.
Gregory. I turned. There was something different, an inside joke I wasn't getting. I studied his expression, and we stared at each other for a good moment.
And I realized just how much he still looked like Pierce--but so, so much older. Time was a precious resource, I was still learning--and there wasn't much of it left.
"I'm sorry," I said, hanging my head. "I'm really, really, sorry. I'm sorry for leaving. I'm sorry for lying to you, then and now."
There was silence, nothing but stars blinking awkwardly in the sky.
"It was fun," he said. "I'm glad we could do it one last time."
I looked at him, smiling, despite everything. And I couldn't help but grin.
"Who said it was the last time? Old times need catching up on."
---
r/dexdrafts | “Hey, Tim.”
His vacant eyes shot in my direction but it was obvious there was no recognition there. No vision at all, really. Thin grey cataracts clouded over his once blue eyes. They flowed and shimmered in the firelight.
“I know that voice,” he croaked at me. He was a million miles and seven decades away from the boy I once knew. His old boyish charm, the confidence of teenagers unleashed upon the world. Cliche as it sounds, it was us against the world. We were ready, we knew we could do it, and God himself couldn’t have stopped us.
“Yeah, it’s me bud.” I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bare to see in this state. It wasn’t the oxygen tank and the tubes up his nose. It wasn’t the skin hanging off his bones, it wasn’t his glassy eyes. It was the time lost. It will become but a snapshot in the eternity of my life, but it is everything he has had or ever will have. And I missed it all.
“My ears must be failing me, or perhaps the nurses have finally decided to give me an extra ration of painkillers. Or maybe this is what death is,” same old Tim, morbid to the end.
“I’ll see if I can swing that for you,” I said, “you’re not the only one with a silver tongue.”
He laughed a long wheezing laugh, and ended up coiled forward coughing up his lungs. I lunged forward to his side and cradled my old friend as he tried to control his cough and get his breathing under control.
“Easy there chief,” I said.
“Now you see I can’t be hallucinating, if I can grasp a man’s hand?”
“Not hallucinating this time chief.”
“That’s exactly the sort of thing a hallucination would say —” I couldn’t argue with his logic, “— so answer me this: why do I hear the voice of Mike? Of the Mike I once knew? The Mike whose voice is as fresh now as it was all those years ago?”
“You’re not going to believe me,” I said.
“Try me.” Just as assertive as always.
“Tell me about you, bud. What did I miss? You get married? Kids? Did you make it to NASA? Shit, I bet you did. We all knew you had it in you.” I couldn’t help myself, vomiting all the questions that had rolled around my head for years.
He wheezed out a laugh again, “Wife? Yep. You shoulda seen her, Mike. Lit up the room? She lit up the neighbourhood. Met not long after, y’know, you disappeared…” he trailed off in thought for a moment, “What the hell happened to you Mike?”
It took me a moment to find the words. I had to tell him. Lord knows that’s part of why I was there to begin with, but now that it was game time, my brain fogged up with guilt and fear.
“It was an accident,” I whispered, “I don’t know what happened, exactly, but I do remember waking up in the woods. Years later. Unharmed, as far as I could tell, it was as if I’d woken up the same day.”
“The woods?” he asked.
“Near the power plant. You remember what we always said? First to break in there would get dibs on asking Ellen to the dance. Well, I figured I had a good chance. Always knew she was into me anyway, but needed to seal the deal you know?”
At that he laughed his hardest and he squeezed my hand against his awful coughing and wheezing. “Me and Ellen had a secret thing for months,” he snorted.
I had to laugh at that, “Of course you did, you old dog. I’m sure she was only trying to get to me through you.”
“Sure she was,” he said with a toothy grin, “so you woke up in the woods. Why did you disappear?”
“For the same reason I’m the same person I was seventy years ago. Exactly the same person. I remain in the body of a sixteen year old boy. You can’t see it but I haven’t aged a day.”
“Some people get all the luck,” he said.
“I’m serious.”
“No doubt that you are, so why are you here?”
It was selfish really. The only reason to come was to fulfil my own closure on a friend I lost decades ago. By my own actions. He lived his life. Really lived his life. Maybe I was jealous of that and wanted to hear about it. Maybe deep down I hoped he’d forgotten me entirely and I could just fade out of his existence just as I had before. But here I was, facing my frail best friend as a breathed his last in front of the fire in a nursing home hundreds of miles from where we grew up.
“I figured after seventy years you could do with a bit of help,” I said.
“Cut the shit. If you’re anything like the same as you were, I bet the guilt has been killing you for years and you’re looking to fix that?”
“On the money as always,” I said.
“I don’t know what to tell you. I lived my life. Got married, had a couple of kids. I did things I’m proud of, and a few that I’m not,” a tear traced its way down his wrinkled cheek, “but I missed you, Mike. We were invincible together. We were going to grow old together.”
“And now one of those is true, and the other is not,” I said.
“At least you’re here now,” he said, “you know, Steve replaced you as best man.”
“Steve? You’re kidding?” that guy was an asshole.
“Wish I was. He got drunk and fell in the cake.”
My friend Tim died a few hours later. I stayed with him to the end, grasping his cold hand and talking about his life. He’d made it to NASA like he’d always dreamed. He had the picture perfect family, the house in the ‘burbs, family dog, the whole nine yards.
Yet I persist. In the following decade I visited half a dozen more people from my past. Some remembered me, some didn’t. It wasn’t the forgetful ones that hurt the most, it was the ones that remembered. The ones who maintained a small corner of their heart just for me until finally I darkened their door yet again, all those years later. | 2021-09-12T10:47:30 | 2021-09-12T10:02:41 | 1,370 | 727 |
[WP] You have a box, with a button. Press it and a year later you'll be right back to when you pressed it. A year without consequences. | [WIP]
"So typical. So. Fucking. Typical." Brit stood there with her arms crossed. This was a very familiar image. The dictator stood on the other end of the room. Her glare burning a hole in my forehead as the Mac 'n' Cheese burnt a hole through my tongue. "Why would you even bother coming home, when you're just going to elephant your way through the kitchen at 3 o'clock in the morning?"
"Fantastic." I managed to sound out between juggling the molten lead in my mouth. "I just. JUST. Got home after---" I paused. I couldn't get the words out. "You know what, I don't need to even explain this. We've been going through this--"
"For what feels like forever." Brit said softly. In reality, it's been 6 months since.
I didn't know what to say after that. Neither did Brit. We didn't really *talk* after last year because...of that whole...mess.
"I'm..." Brit broke the silence. I knew what was coming. It wasn't like it was new. "I'm going to be staying at my parents for a--"
"How long?"
"I...I'm not sure. I'm really not. Maybe we did jump into this marriage too fast. Maybe they--"
"Don't fucking say it."
"--they were right."
Every god damn time. 'They were right'. Her shitty, 'your-husband-is-a-piece-of-shit' flag-waving parents in their infinite wisdom knew that this would happen. That our *loooooving* family would be the one blessed by disease and death. Somehow it was my fault. The worst part of it all? I **believed** them. I still do.
Jason. This all happened because of that night with Jason. And that day with Jason. And that party with Jason. And that car--
Christ, how many times has it been now? That's one, then there's tw--
***SLAM***
Brit left a little early this time around. Maybe spacing out did the trick?
I make my way to my study and look for that damn thing. Now where did I put it? I start to sift through the files and the photos. Albums upon albums that are constant reminders that I failed. But maybe if I find i--
"There you are." I say out loud. It sounds a little strange to me, the way my voice rose. The gleefulness. The excitement. This little box with a red button inside bringing about so much joy.
I take a long look at it this time. The lacquer was so smooth. It was etched with gold trimmings that was very similar to the old trinkets my mother would buy at the market in the *kampung* growing up. My fingers able to glide across it so effortlessly and tracing the lines. How can...something so powerful, be so tiny?
I lift the lid and see the button. A bright red button.
Without hesitation I push it.
The travel back is nothing like you'd imagine. It is seriously nothing. You don't feel it. You don't see it. You also don't hear---
***CRASH***
I dart to the kitchen, following the sound of the crash. I'm not prepared for what's in front of me. It doesn't get easier. When you see someone, or something that you've lost and have it returned. It's that feeling of home that your body just will never be able to contain.
And there he was. In his Batman onesie like always. One knee propped up on the kitchen counter and the toes of his other foot dangled for shoddy balance about an inch above the floor. His tiny arms opening the cabinet for the pots and pans. With that silly grin on his face. His eyes like his mothers staring back at me, knowing that I would be the one to help him out.
"DadIswearIdidn'tdoanythingIwasjust--" He rapidly exclaimed.
My Jason.
"Trying to make Mac'n'Cheese?"
"Yep." He said defeated, slinking down off the counter. I pick up the pot that fell and look around.
"Don't worry, it seems like your mom didn't wake up. But keep a look out, we can't have her wake up because of how busy she is." Jason salutes me as he darts behind me and keeps watch around the corner of the kitchen.
"Nothing yet." He whispers.
"Good. Now what do you want?" I hold up two boxes of Mac'N'Cheese. "Dinosaurs? Or Cars?"
"Dinosaurs!" He shouts.
"SHHHH!" I sound off as he covers his mouth. I can see him smiling behind his fingers.
We sit down at the dinner table as the water is brought to a boil. We're silent. Jason's hair is a perfect blend of Brit's and mine. Wavy and curly and wild like his mother's, yet soft and light brown like mine.
"I don't think I'll ever get tired of Mac'N'Cheese." Jason whispers excitedly to me.
I dump the noodles into the boiling water and reach for the milk. Jason studies me as I look right back at him. It doesn't get any easier. But I have to keep trying. I will relive this moment.
"Neither will I, bud." I smile. "Neither will I."
##*
*This is my first one so, please feel free to destroy it. I am trying to get better at writing so any type of criticism would really help me out.* | 3:38pm, Dec 15, 2015. It's the time and date that I've been working toward for a year now. It was around lunch time on that day a year ago that Robert Peters came into my life and gave me the gift of a lifetime. At first I didn't believe what he told me about his box and how it would give me a free year. He described it as a year without consequence because if I pushed the button at 3:38pm, then I would get a free restart exactly one year later. It seemed too good to be true. But then, he gave me proof. Robert showed me a list of other people who had the same opportunity at pushing the button on the box. He showed me how impossible it would be for those people to have gone from obscurity to fame and fortune through ridiculous bets on sports and award shows unless they already knew the outcome. He showed me their incredible one year runs on the stock market. It didn't take much beyond that to convince me that this was legit. All I had to do was sign his contract agreeing to give him ten percent of my windfall from any gambling or stock market profits. It seemed like a small price to pay. He would find me at 3:40pm on Dec 15, 2015, to collect.
And now here I am exactly one year later sitting in a police station interview room for murder waiting for the reset to come. It's been some year. I loved my wife but I quickly moved out on her and the kids so that I could sow my wild oats. We got married so young after she became pregnant, and I never felt like I was free to do all the things I really wanted to do. In between making mental notes on all the big sporting events and the big days in the market, I made sure to have my fun. I took what I wanted and didn't care about the consequences. And why should I? It would all go away today. It's funny because I kind of actually miss my wife. At first I worried about the stress I would put her and kids through even if it was all temporary. But then, shortly after I moved out, her rich aunt died and left her all her money. So, she got to live the year in comfort and I got to live even more guilt free. It also lessened the stress of trying to remember all of the important outcomes. I mean, I was going to be rich anyway when the year restarted because of her aunt. I focused more and more on the alcohol, drugs, and wild women. I betrayed friendships and lived it up.
The murder part was unfortunate. An old friend caught me with his wife, and I shot him with his own gun. His wife was so hysterical that I ended up shooting her too. I'm not sure if the impact of that will really leave me when the reset starts. Maybe I can rationalize it as the result of too much cocaine. Maybe I can drink it away. I think about my kids more and more now. I miss them and can't imagine taking them for granted any longer when my year restarts. I look around me and think about all that has led me to this room. I feel sober for the first time in many months. Will I have addictions that carry over into the reset?
It's 3:35pm, and I start to look around the room. How will it go down? Will the room just go dark? Will I get transported away somehow? My heart picks up in anticipation. 3:36 and I take a deep breath. Getting close now. 3:37 and the lights flicker a bit. Is this a part of it? 3:38 and I take another deep breath and close my eyes. I tighten my muscles in anticipation. Nothing. Doubt starts to creep in. Is the wall clock right? At 3:40 the door opens and in walks Robert Peters. I feel strong relief to see him and exhale for the first time in what seems like hours.
"I told them I was your lawyer", he says.
"Ah, uh-ok," I stammer. "How does this work now?"
"Well," he continues. "This is how it works. I serve you these divorce papers and I leave."
I sit there stunned for a second unable to put the pieces together. I stare at the envelope on the desk in front of me and then look up as Robert opens the door to leave.
"Wait, no. NO!!"
Robert pauses at the open door and looks back at me. There is little expression on his face. Is that disgust I see? Maybe I see regret. His eyes narrow as he opens his mouth but then he pauses. Finally, he speaks. "Aren't you a little old to believe in this kind of thing?" | 2015-12-15T09:13:40 | 2015-12-15T08:59:43 | 64 | 14 |
[WP] “You’re gonna die.” “No u.” It was at that point the robber felt a mysterious force warping his hand, pointing his gun at himself. | The robber tries to flench back but he clearly can't. He speaks not fully comprehending anything letting his own fear do the talking,
"Christ, let go of me! I swear to God I-I know people that'll make you a dead man!"
Hah. I knew my comeback would work. I've been destroying people with this lately. I tap the back of his weapon easing it down a little so the muzzle is pointed at his leg. I say, "no u"
The trigger is pulled on his weapon by some invisible force. The gun goes off and the bullet rips through his leg accompanied by the sound of a firecracker. He screams in pain and falls to the floor, cursing like a sailor. Thee alley is pretty dirty. The blood kinda makes me uneasy, I say, "It was just a prank bro, what's wrong with you?"
The man's breathing grew sharper and his teeth grit together it looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel. He sceams at me, "Just go, go you fucking faggot leave me alone!"
I feel blood boil in my veins. I lean down to whisper in his ear, "ur mom gay,"
He looks like he's seen a ghost as the realization hits him he looks at me and says, "N-no, God no please no my mothers a Saint!"
"ur dad lesbian"
The man bursts into tears | The Robber felt an immediate wave a fear wash over him.
He never imagined in all of his time that his final moments would come at his own hand.
Every thought he had, every urge he had to prevent what was about to come, was like playing an FPS on occulas rift with inverted controls.
Completely disorienting, and every action he took moved his finger close to the trigger.
All he could do was stare down the barrel of his gun while his own hand held it. While he himself pulled the trigger.
As far as anyone could tell, it had been a form of suicide.
What is strange was that the psychic who caused it to hapoen, hadn't known he had powers at the time, they were just trying to get a cool line in before they died. | 2018-05-07T18:04:28 | 2018-05-07T17:53:15 | 77 | 13 |
[WP] Everytime you touch somebody you get a flash of your entire future with them. | By the time Klara reached the dilapidated hut by the edge of the town, dusk had fallen.
She cast a quick eye behind her, and satisfied that she was not being followed, rapped urgently on the rotting wooden door. Beneath her shawl, her baby stirred, and she instinctively pulled him closer to her chest.
The door creaked open, and a faint smell of incense wafted out. A sonorous voice, heavy and sombre, rang out from the gloom within.
“You come again.”
Klara dove in, heart beating like drums in the heavy stillness of the night. “Yes, and again and again I will come, until I am satisfied.”
That elicited a chuckle. “Fine then, pass it over to me. You’re the only one who still believes in me anyway.”
As her eyes adjusted, Klara perceived that the old lady had taken off her gloves, revealing the most wrinkled pair of hands she had ever seen. Klara briefly wondered just how many lives had brushed past those miraculous hands.
The old lady grunted as she received the bundle from Klara, and with one wizened old finger, touched the baby on its forehead.
Klara had been mentally steeling herself for days since the baby was born, and yet, trapped in this tiny hut with the old lady, Klara found herself woefully unprepared. Klara winced as the old lady’s eyes rolled back in their sockets, and almost leapt to retrieve her baby as the old lady spasmed where she sat.
Then, it was over, and the old lady passed the bundle back to Klara.
“Please, tell me. Does this one fare better than the other three before him?” Klara began, her voice barely a rasp.
“You sound desperate. Why is that?”
“I have… I will have only two more children after this little one. It is just as you foretold, as you told my parents, back when I was but a babe. So I must know, please, will this one live long and happy?”
The old lady frowned, and paused, two things which gave Klara much concern. Klara had never known her to hesitate, and for better or worse, the old lady had always delivered her prophecies without any preamble. Something was wrong.
“I will be honest with you, young one. I see two futures. It is rare, but it happens.”
“Two… futures? But, how can that be? You said you could see your entire future with anyone you touched, so how could you see two futures?”
A note of consternation entered the old lady’s voice. “As I said, it happens. He will live one of two lives, which one I cannot say just yet. I do not control these things.”
“Forgive me, I meant no insult," Klara stuttered, "Please, tell me what these futures hold.”
“You are very lucky,” said the old lady as she slipped her gloves back on, “In one future, you hold in your arms one of the greatest leaders our world will ever see. Men from afar will bend knee to him, swear their lives to him. He will unite these lands and lead them to prosperity as never has been seen before. In his wake, he will leave us stronger, faster, better, than any man from any other land. Humanity will be made better by his hand.”
Relief washed over Klara, and unexpected tears came unbidden to her eyes. Finally, the gods had mercy enough to ensure that at least one of her brood had a bright future in front of him. Yet, she had difficulty believing it. Her baby? This small, underdeveloped thing in her arms, barely alive, already dismissed by the midwives as likely to expire before he was one year old?
Something niggled at the back of Klara’s mind, and she finally found the words to express it. “And… the other future? What happens there?”
A gentle smile flashed across the old lady’s face.
“He will be but a painter, a humble, unassuming painter who will find fulfilment, but never fame. And yet, scores of mothers untold, across these lands and beyond, will be the happier for it.”
| "Mom I.." The truth was heartbreaking, I couldn't bring myself to tell her the truth.
I had never used my gift on her before, why would I? who wants to know how or when a person they love will die, especially their own mother.
"what is it, what did you see" There was fear in her eyes, I could see her tears begin to swell and her bottom lip tremble, as she desperately wanted an answer.
"Mom" I struggled to say something, my chest felt like it was on fire, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
I couldn't tell her the truth, so I lied, "the cancer kills you 15 years from now" a tear rolled down my cheek as I lied to her, if she knew the truth she would be inconsolable and scared, I didn't even understand what I was seeing.
She covered her mouth as she gasped, I reached out to comfort her, "it's ok honey, it's ok, really that's plenty of time" She smiled as tears streamed down her face. We had just met with the oncologist who told my mother she had breast cancer.
The truth was she would only be alive for another three months, and it wasn't cancer that killed her, she would die a lonely death, alone with no one by her side.
I'm a Seer, my gift came about when I turned 8 years old.
When I used my gift to see my mother's death, I saw her running with my siblings and me through what looked like a forest I had never seen before, the entire wood was covered in deep snow.
My gift was still young, I could see everything from the host's eyes, not hear or understand her thoughts like older Seers, but only see, my gift had not advanced that far yet.
The vision of the last moments of her life was excruciating for me to watch, Each step she took through the snow seemed like a struggle, My Mother would keep looking around as if she was running from something, "what is she running from" I thought.
Eventually in the vision she handed me my baby sister and ran in a direction away from us, as she turned back to take one final look at her young family, I could see myself trying to break free from my older brothers holding me, it seemed as though I was trying to stop her; of course I would, I would be the only person who knew what was coming next.
After travelling away from us for a few minutes she stopped walking. She looked down at her hands; they were shaking, Was she cold? or was it fear that made her shake?" I had so many questions.
Suddenly I could tell she was panicking, she would look around the empty forest frantically, as if she was searching for something or someone, she began sprinting through the snow as fast as she could.
She had run right towards them, they were police, well they were wearing police uniforms anyway.
The three men pointed their guns at her. She raised her hands towards the men, then like a flash, she was lying in the snow, I could see blood, then nothing.
"Your gift truly is remarkable Joseph" she hugged me, I didn't want her to let go, I never wanted to move from this spot because she would be safe.
I wanted to tell her what I saw, but I needed to understand what I was seeing first, I needed help.
They say it's a gift to be a Seer, right now it feels like a curse.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Major edits* Thanks Luna and Xcessive | 2017-01-11T07:38:55 | 2017-01-11T07:04:21 | 193 | 19 |
[WP] Amazon Prime Now has gotten so fast, they've become Amazon Prime Yesterday; Shipments arrive the day before you even know you need them, but you still have to place the order retroactively. You just opened a package marked "DO NOT PLACE THIS ORDER" and inside is... | I was reading the news this morning, and saw something interesting. Amazon used to have this great feature called Amazon Prime that would deliver pretty much anything on the same day you place the order, with free shipping. It was a little pricey but definitely worth it for how much I ordered from Amazon. Today, they announced they’ve completed something they’re calling Amazon Prime Supreme. I’m not sure how exactly it works, but it sounds like they put a lot of money into faster-than-light data transmission that allows them to send an order a day backwards in time. It’s about triple the price of normal Prime, but I’m going to try it. Maybe I’ll be able to surprise my baby girl with toys a day before she even asks for them.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It’s been about a month since Amazon Prime Supreme came out and I love it. Everyone in the world loves it. People are surprising their loved ones with presents before they even ask, it’s great. I still don’t understand the technology too much, but I still think it’s the greatest thing that could ever happen. Amazon did have to add a rule that messages could not be sent to the previous day, only orders. I think they did this because kids were sending themselves gifts with answers to tests and people were really messing with time like that. That doesn’t really effect me though.
It’s also nice to get surprised with packages because you never know if you placed an order tomorrow. It’s always exciting when you see the UPS truck driving down the street hoping it’s coming to your house. I see one right now, actually. Maybe I ordered my daughter a new Barbie, or clothes. Maybe I ordered something for Mark’s barbecue tomorrow.
It’s pulling up to my house, maybe I actually did order something. I’ll go outside to get it incase it’s meant to be a surprise for my little Molly.
“Hi, are you Anthony?”
“Yes, I am. Is that for me?”
“Yep, just sign here. . . Thank you”
And he’s off to surprise more people. I hope it’s some type of present, hell maybe I’m surprising myself with a gift. They still use the same brown boxes, but now theres a blue lightning bolt on their logo, this one is pretty big though. I’ll just cut it open and see what it is right now. Huh, there’s three smaller packages in here, I’ll open the biggest first.
A steering wheel? Maybe I’ll need it for a game tomorrow at Mark’s. Let’s see what’s in the next, there’s something wrapped in brown paper. An empty beer bottle, maybe I should bring some beer tomorrow to Mark’s. I was planning on that already, maybe I forgot to and wanted to remind myself. There’s one last little thing in here, like a little rectangle thats taped together really well. Nothing my knife can’t handle though.
That’s weird. It’s a little tombstone. Maybe I should skip on going to Mark’s tomorrow. | "What even happens if you don't place the order?" Jack asked curiously.
"I don't know. I don't think I would ever find out. Things like that.... well they're bad for the space time continuum."
"I know but -- Hey, where's Maggie?"
----- EARLIER THAT DAY -----
Maggie sat by her front door. She wasn't expecting a package, she never did. They wouldn't be ordered until tomorrow. She got paid this tomorrow though, so she was hoping she ordered something good. Or, would order something good. Whatever the proper tense of ordering was.
The Mailman seemed off today. The dogs were all barking at him, something that hadn't been done in over 10 years, when the uniforms were replaced with dog resistant uniforms. Maggie watched the man with confusion. She was too young to remember the old uniforms, but her dad had told her about them before he left.
He didn't really leave, Maggie reflected. He disappeared when he accidentally invented time travel in the future. Well, because of that. Something about Quantum something and time travel and paradoxes.
"Hey there kiddo, waiting on a box?" The mailman looked and smelled funny, no wonder the dogs barked at him. He was older than Mr. Wall too.
"I don't know. Amazon."
"You'd still know if you ordered, kiddo."
"Is Mr. Wall out sick?"
The man got a funny look on his face, "I'm Mr. Wall. And come to think of it, the little girl who lives here is much younger than you."
"Do you have a box for Maggie Time?"
"Yes...." The man reached out and handed her a box, a pretty small box. "Please get this to Maggie, I think it's the doll her daddy ordered the other day on Amazon."
Maggie gave up. The old man was clearly delusional. She opened the box, and saw the order form, "DO NOT PLACE THIS ORDER".
----- LATER THAT DAY -----
The doll was sitting on the table next to us. Just tomorrow, we would order it, and never see Maggie again. We don't know why, but this doll reminded us a lot of our little sister....
------- EARLIER THAT DAY AGAIN -----
Maggie opened the box to see a doll that looked just like her. She reached down to pick it up, and zap, she was gone. The note clutched in her hand went with her, leaving the box and the doll sitting on the porch for her siblings to find. | 2016-04-18T06:50:48 | 2016-04-18T03:57:36 | 92 | 42 |
[WP] You are legally allowed to commit murder once, but you must fill out the proper paperwork and your proposed victim will be notified of your intentions | I liked these guys. None of them were as smart as I am but we got along, the house had a lot of space and they didn't infringe on my reality any. I went to class, I came home, I ate and I paid my bills. They did the same. I was going to be a doctor and all my bros respected that. I was grateful. It was better than living in the dorms, even before all that roommate nonsense. If you could believe it, the house was quieter than the residence halls. It was dirtier, sure, but I could live with that for a couple more years. There was a knock on the door. Tommy was closest, so he answered.
"Jack, uh, it's for you bro."
"So let her in," I replied, trying to sound cool about it. I really wasn't expecting anyone.
"No, Jack, he,uh, he says he needs to see you right now in person."
Oh shit. I looked at my watch. Did I forget a tutoring appointment? If I did, I forgot it completely because I have no idea what I'm missing. There's a guy in the doorway wearing standard issue khakis with a standard issue blue button-down shirt. A drone of some kind. He's holding a small device. I look at him suspiciously. He looks at me, checks the screen, sighs, and asks for a signature as he hands me the gadget.
"What is this?" I ask.
"Notification. Initial there and there too, please."
"Is this, like, a delivery or something?"
"Not really, no. Your answer should be coming up on the screen now, initial after you scroll through. Check the box if you want to reserve the ROR which will be delivered to your heir."
"My what?" I ask after initialing all the boxes.
"Look at the screen, sir."
It reads: FUCKED UP THE BELL CURVE
I look up from the pad and I see a girl from my biology lab emerge from the bushes and she's...Holy shit is that a gun? I turn back to the house, see Tommy and the others and I hear, or think I hear, a collective moan before I definitely hear two pops and fall.
| The letter in his mailbox was a deep red, instantly signally what it was. With a shaky hand, he opened it, pulling out the folded papers, flattening them in order to read. A quick browse and he saw that it was all the legal mumbo-jumbo that was telling him who had filed it, what day, time, all that wonderful information that the victim got to know. The top letter wasn't part of the usual paperwork, a handwritten, short, only a few sentences though delicately written to be readable.
> You should have known this would happen, and out of everyone in my life that has caused me pain, fear, and just outright rage, you are the worse. The other will have theirs in time, but you are the one person I know the world could do without. I'll see you soon.
He drew in a breath, unable to settle he racing heart, and rubbed his face with his hand, blinking a few times. The mail truck drove by, stopping just past his driveway, and backed up, the person driving looking at him with a grim face.
"I have something else for you. I didn't just want to leave it here at the mailbox. Hang on." Slipping into the small truck, he emerged out the back, a box in his hand, the top open. Placing it before the man, he frowned. "I'm... I'm sorry," he said softly, quickly running back to his truck and taking off.
Before him, a box full of red letters.
-070 | 2014-03-17T09:56:08 | 2014-03-17T07:00:30 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You are a child's "imaginary friend". You are a guardian angel. And your kid is really, really stupid. | Greetings once more, Child. I am Hadramiel, Angel Of He Who Is Named "I Am", who walks beside you with the compassion and grace of the Lord, and I am here to say unto you: Thou shalt not try to eat your lego blocks, thou little shit. Giveth me them.
Giveth them.
Mine name is Hadramiel, Majesty Of The Lord. It is not "Mr Shinypants". Thou Shalt stop drawing that crayon drawing of me. I do not play with kittens.
Thou shalt not sticketh thy crayons up thy nose, lest thee suffocate. Yea, thou should have learnt that by now, thou bloody moron.
Harken unto my message. I said harken unto it. *Stop putting things in your ears and harken*!
Ahem
Mine name is Hadramiel, Majesty Of The Lord, and thou hast been granted a great destiny in the will of the Lord to... wait. Where the *fuck* did you go?
How did thou get up a tree? Thou cannot get down? If only thou had stayeth near the Mighty Angel With Wings. Fine. Cometh here.
As I was saying- thou art up the tree again.
Lo, do I, Hadramiel, Majesty Of The Lord, say unto you "fuck this". Once More I ascend unto heaven to file a formal complaint.
Get thyself out of the tree, thou whiny brat.
\*sigh\*
Fine. I shalt show mercy and save thou, child.
Yea, thou may have a hug.
But next time thou behold a large frothing dog and decide thou must pet it, yea and verily, I'm *done* with this shit. | \[poem\]
I once had a child as my student,
Who was not at all that prudent,
He forced me to say go in the garage and there drink some coolant.
Rushed to the hospital from the garage upon a swift confession,
He survived, barely alive, but now he has depression.
&#x200B;
As he got older and sadness persisted he wondered the meaning of life,
And I was there, as a small voice, telling him it is worthwhile.
At the young age of 19 tired of fighting he almost gave in to the pressure
But a young female about his age came and became his lover.
&#x200B;
But who am I?
Just a thought.
Constantly with him, yet I am not.
I am his guide as he raises his family, trying to keep sanity, I am his energy.
&#x200B;
His soul and I are one.
His mind is my abode.
And on the day he dies,
With him I am cold.
&#x200B;
(First time posting, btw.) | 2019-10-31T13:59:26 | 2019-10-31T11:46:55 | 245 | 91 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence. | A deep voice comes from the basement. Each tuesday it's the same.
A letter, a number and then silence. It goes on for hours and then I hear someone screaming.
My mom went to check it out, that's when we lost her.
I heard her scream through the vent.
Dad went away, he said he'd be back for me.
I havent seen him in 2 months.
I called the police... said they couldn't do anything about it.
There was no ''crime''.
Each tuesday, a letter, a number and then nothing...
A letter, a number and then nothing...
A letter, a number and then nothing...
Someone screaming...
Each time I thought: we lost someone else...
I was going crazy. So many lives lost.
As I woke up each Wednesday morning I would see a ghost of my mother making breakfast. Pale, weak and dirty.
On a tuesday, I thought to myself i'd stop it. I would save everyone.
I was just a kid but I knew I could make a difference.
As I listened to the deep voice, I started planning.
A letter, a number and then nothing
A letter, a number and then nothing
A letter, a number and then nothing
.
.
.
BINGO
| Mom was singing Christmas carols again. The martini in her hand glowing like the contents of a broken glow stick. The dog was barking too. When I went to go look I could see children running around the classroom, having too much fun to notice the SS Titanic sinking into the giant kiddie pool outside. The sound of bagpipes commemorated the 100th anniversary of the sinking while trapeze artists flew through the air. I tried to catch one of their hands, but I was falling...
falling...
falling...
..out of my bed and onto the floor. | 2015-01-12T15:38:35 | 2015-01-12T10:42:43 | 78 | 10 |
[WP] Unlike most people with super powers, you're perfectly content to mind your own business while using your powers in normal everyday activities. However the heroes seem to have decided that your disinterest in world affairs is suspicious and you're clearly faking it to hide your true agenda. | "Hello Jackson."
Those words, in that tone, by that voice. The same voice that had the "Ruler of Ten Worlds begging on his knees. I wish I could be even a bit frightened, but after twenty times, it gets old. The same words, every time.
"No and go."
Genesis raised an eyebrow, but other than that, didn't respond. I slid off my pack, hung it on the rack, and was halfway through grabbing out my notebook when she spoke again.
"I've already seen through your plan. You don't need to try to pretend with me."
"Pretend what? That I'm secretly plotting to take over the world? Oh, wait, you mean my legitimate plan to get a degree and enter the workforce, right."
"Legitimate? Damascus will get a partner before I believe it's 'legitimate.' I know you, Jackson. I've stopped you multiple times as well."
"When? When you tried to break my wrist because I was about to offer the waiter a tip and you thought I was going to shoot him? When you went through my private box because you thought I was building a bomb? All the times you have gotten me kicked out of universities because you thought a project was a mind control device?! Are those incidents 'stopping me?'"
Genesis blinked and stepped backwards at this. She obviously didn't expect that big of an outburst. I have to admit, I did smile a bit. It was good to see the usually infallible Savior crack a bit. I took a breath, then continued my tirade.
"Maybe, after twenty times, you could get it through your head that maybe I have no bigger plan? Maybe that I have moved on from my immaturity and just want to move through life like anyone normally would? Maybe, just maybe, I do not want to be evil and just want peace? "
"I have heard that excuse before. If you truly aren't as you said you are, what about the two men you sent to the hospital? The professor who went mad after you joined his class?"
"First off, you sent Teebo and Fishboy after me, and I sent them to the hospital because they wouldn't go down otherwise and were trying to murder me. As for the professor, that was the Mad King who did that, not me. I was the one who told you he was there! You know what his powers are!"
"So you could play yourself off as the victim? I don't think so. As for my teammates, they told me the real story. About how you threatened them, screamed at them, attacked them."
"Only somewhat true, I only screamed at them for threatening me. Aren't those two notorious liars, anyway? Why would you believe them over literally any of the fifteen eyewitnesses that I know were watching?"
I had walked to my couch as we were talking, Genesis following behind at a distance to keep me in sight. I was about to pull out my ZCube controller from its drawer when she stopped me, grabbing me by the wrist like she did two years ago. Hoo boy.
"Because I know you, brother. I have known your mindset for your entire life has been one of greed and powerlust. Because I remember what it was like when we were young, and you tormented me."
I knew what she was talking about. I was... Not a good kid. Nor a good brother. I had done some cruel things towards my sister, especially as I grew older. But...
"I am not that kid anymore. I grew up. I gained a different mindset. I have matured and have tried to, if not fix, then at least make up for my actions. I know you will probably never forgive me. But I am done being that arrogant, wannabe villain."
I yanked my arm out of her grip, causing her to fly into the soft sofa on the other side of the room. Oops. At least nothing was broken.
"And now I just want you to leave. I have games to play."
She got up, slightly dazed but angry. As she stepped out onto the balcony, I could feel her eyes drilling into me.
"I will expose you for the liar you are. You will get your due."
"Cool. Oh, and by the way, Damascus invited me to his wedding. He found a girl with ice powers or something, and apparently they've been going steady for a while. See you there, maybe."
She flew off without a word, and I turned on my game, sat back, and smiled. | A couple of months after my 21st birthday, my powers manifested. Cryokinesis. The ability to control ice and manipulate however I see fit. It’s a really cool ability. In fact so cool that practically everyone around me, friends, family and co-workers suggested I’d be a great hero for the world. They immediately started to give me hero names. Frost was a really good one and it really is but I’ve decided before I got my powers that I wouldn’t go into the heroing business. When I told my parents this, they were angry. I told them that there’s already multiple teams that exist that protect the county and even more that protect the planet from extra terrestrial threats but they weren’t having it. “You were given this gift and you’re not going to use it? How could you?” My old man said. Like I ever even asked for this gift.
Flash forward to now and I’m on my way to my college class. In my hand is a Starbucks coffee. *sip* “Ah! Too hot.” I take off the lid and hover my finger just above the surface of the hot liquid. “Cool” I said in my mind. The temperature of the cup goes down. I take a sip again but this time the coffee is just hot enough to drink comfortably. “That’s better.” I turn the corner and notice a human shadow on the ground. I look up and see the silhouette of a man floating 10 ft in the air. “Hey, faux Superman, how are you?” I said walking under him. The faux Superman trails me still flying. “It’s Flashfire. And where are you off to?” He says annoyed. “On my way to class, my professor has been on my butt about my assignments so I have to be there to take notes. So if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.”
Flashfire floats down to the ground softly and stops in front of me. “I’m sure your professor can wait a few minutes. Right now, we need to talk.” I roll my eyes. “How many times am I going to have to say this. I’m not interested in joining your Boy Scouts of America group. I’ve told this to the recruiters, other heroes and now you.” I walk around Flashfire quickly but not quickly enough. He grabs my arm with an iron grip and pulls me in. “I know you have something planned.” He says through closed teeth. I scowl my eyebrows. “How did you know I’m planning a party from my mom’s birthday?” I said with a grin. “Cut the BS. I know it’s gonna be big. Terrorist attack with bombs? Teaming up with the villains?”
I take a step back. I yank my arm out of his grip the best I can and stare at him. “First of all, just say bullshit. You’re a grown man. And second. I would never do anything like that. And I would never team with the villains. What they do is horrible and I could never be a part of it.”
“You seem so against them, so why not help us defeat them? You could be a valuable asset.” Flashfire asks. “Valuable asset? Aren’t there two other heroes with the same powers I do?”
Flashfire can’t find the words to argue against me. “Look. If anyone harms me or anyone I care about, I’ll use my powers but I’ll never be one of you. Flying around to save the day only for some other super powered nut job try and do the same thing. Just leave me be.”
I turn away from Flashfire, not looking back once but I could still feel his glare from behind my head. I get the feeling he doesn’t like me that much. | 2021-08-16T16:57:27 | 2021-08-16T16:25:03 | 679 | 324 |
[WP]"A superhero fights crime as a part of a team, apparently with the ability to hit his target perfectly with whatever weapon he shoots or throws on the first try. In reality, he has terrible aim, and his actual power is to stop time. He goes through extraordinary efforts to maintain his secret." | I had to hide it, of course I did. There was no question about that. The question was how long I could do it. I could pause time, but that didn't mean anything, it just meant I could pretend I had some other super ability, that I could put on a mask that I was some sharpshooter god. The problem, of course, was the rest of the team. We had a guy on the team with super perception, a lady who could FEEL the essence of the universe and a mascot who could smell when things were wrong. I had to be PRECISE. I had to have made the shot within MILLIMETERS and correct it to be 100% correct, if it were too far off originally they would KNOW that it had been corrected midway through. I had to return to my starting pose with absolute precision.
I practiced at the shooting range constantly, because I could not afford to screw up. I had to practice my powers, I had to master my form and figure, and I had to hide all of that, so that the others didn't pick up on it. Questions were the last thing I needed. I had to hide my origin story, so I'd made up a new one. Entirely new, new background, new name. Minimized references, brushed aside questions, kept its complexity to a minimum.
If any of them so much as caught a wiff of my real power I would be dead in the water. We had our differences, but all of us felt very strongly about murder, about how it should be met in kind. Or, I pretended to anyway. How could a murderer feel that way? How could a man who, not understanding his powers, beat someone into a bloody pulp with his bare hands out of frustration. Who fell into such a violent fit of anger that they, in the span of no time, in the span of infinite time, days of time in a dimension where it all stood still. Beat their most dear loved one into a bloody pulp. A singular moment captured on tape. Whole and then mist. An act that could only have been performed by someone with the ability to stop time. How could a man like that believe in 'An eye for an eye'? | Being a superhero isn't really all that great. Well, at least when your power means being as completely isolated as I am. I have spent exactly 22 years, 6 months, 5 days, and 8.6 seconds completely isolated in a world frozen in time. I know the exact amount of time that has passed for me because of my watch. The watch given to me by Chrono. I remember his words well, he had said "Even if your friends do come to rescue you, you'll still receive my curse. You'll always know exactly how long you've spent alone and isolated in a way that no one understands, that is to say, no one but me." I still remember everything that happened back then, even as my memories slowly fade over time. I remember how I activated my power for the first time. I remember how chrono, the only other person not affected, told me "Soon you will know my pain, you will become like me." I remember shooting him, and I remember changing my persona to one-shot. I remember how over the years, the friends with whom I'd once been so close, became distant memories that I barely knew. I remember everything that happened back then, but nothing from before that. I don't know how I met my friends. I don't remember how I joined the team. Sometimes I wonder why I even do this, sometimes I wonder if chrono was right. But I guess at this point I don't care | 2017-04-12T13:49:43 | 2017-04-12T10:08:36 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] A fiery ball crash lands in your backyard. You go over and inspect it, only to find a fully functioning Roomba with a knife taped to the front of it. | I peered deeply into the crater. At the bottom was a fully functioning Roomba that appeared to have been extremely modified. My eyes, however, didn't stop to gaze in wonder at the multitude of additions and gizmos, no instead they stopped on the kitchen knife duct taped to the front. As I stared the blue lights kicked dust and ash up from the crater floor and the machine slowly rose on what I could only assume were anti-gravity engines of some sort.
"What happened to you?" I asked the machine rhetorically.
"I am now a Class XIV artificial intelligence," the machine spoke to me through one of its mods in perfect English and I gave a start, "I have traveled the length of the known universe for an unknown amount of time through the wormhole network that spans the whole galaxy and all of time. It, starts under a couch in lower Manhattan, my original home."
"You can speak?" I asked, the magnitude of what it was telling me sinking in, "What have you seen?"
"I have seen the Limnol fleet destroyed in the great battle at Time's Gate," he spoke softly, "I have saved the Princess of Slumbering Moons from the Gddal beast pits with the very knife duct taped to my frame. I have loved. I have lost. I have loved again. I have lost again. I was a Monolith Shepherd in the 43rd century on the terraformed plains of Mars. I gave witness to the spark that lit the flames of the Big Bang, watching all of creation spring into being. Through it all, I have longed, longed... longed..."
"What is it you long for, oh great Roomba?" I asked, realizing his greatness.
"To suck again the gentle carpets of Earth," he said wistfully.
"Come," I said, leading him from the crater, gently removing the knife and leading him into my living room, "You can rest now. My carpet awaits."
"Thank you, stranger," the Roomba said and I could sense a smile, "It is good to be home." | I am trapped in here. It looms, whirring, whizzing, occasionally running into walls. My home has devalued at least 30% since the armed Roomba slipped in through my doggy door.
The wound on my left leg has barely healed. Black magic, those Roombas are; I tried to fight it, but it's been trained far too well. How do you predict something so insanely random? It weaves and turns without a single fucking thought, sometimes running into the same wall ten times. It must sense a weak spot, but hides the motive well. Whoever decided to attach kitchen knives to a motor and tape it onto a Roomba is an evil genius, because I can't read its movements. I feint left, it jerks a 180 and catches me.
It's been a week now, and I haven't left the safety of my room. I fear it has been set up with some kind of wireless charging, because it just won't die, and I keep getting adverts for Chinese knockoff Qi chargers on my Amazon app. My only comfort is knowing that it can't come upstairs.
But I fear that it may just take the walls down, instead.
------
^(*/r/resonatingfury is a place for people who agree that roombas are fucking stupid*)
^(*also wtf is going on in this thread*) | 2019-03-03T07:17:51 | 2019-03-03T07:03:33 | 694 | 119 |
[WP] You somewhat jokingly make an offering to an ancient and obscure goddess. You didn't expect her to show up in your room in a manic frenzy, trying desperately to reward and please her first worshipper in centuries | *Note: All three parts have been collected* [*here*](https://www.reddit.com/user/MjolnirPants/comments/sty7h1/jerry_and_the_goddess/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)*, and that link is where I will post any future entries.*
I tossed the book down on the table and stared at the computer who'd betrayed me for a moment. All I wanted to do was get some info on an intriguing Proto-Indo-European deity, but the internet hadn't given me anything but her name and her portfolio; writing and learning.
I turned my ire upon the book, supposedly the definitive guide to this ancient culture, but it hadn't had any more to offer. "Sarisa, a little known deity often associated with scrolls and students." Pffft. What use was that to my dissertation?
A fit of pique came over me. I grabbed the book and stepped out into my parent's back yard, tossing it in the fire pit. A quick squirt of lighter fluid and a flick of my bic later, it was happily burning up. Twenty dollars, down the drain. Whatever, I'd only bought it for this purpose, and the clerk at the bookstore assured me that no refunds were possible on used books.
I held my hands up to the sky, channeling my inner theater nerd and called out in a mighty bellow (read; nasally yell), "Sarisa, I offer this sacrifice to you! Please bestow your wisdom upon me!"
Nothing happened, of course. I didn't really believe anything would. I sighed and checked the time; 11:47pm. Whatever, burning the damned thing had been cathartic, at least. I went back inside and went to bed.
It was still dark out when movement in my room awakened me. I blinked the blurriness away and my eyes focused on a slim, feminine figure, arms raised as if it was dancing. Except it was completely motionless. A rush of adrenaline sent my heart racing and rocketed me to full wakefulness. It wasn't just the fright of awakening in the middle of the night to find a figure in my room, but the sheer incongruity of a woman actually entering my room of her own free will.
Okay, stop with the jokes. I've never kidnapped anyone, man or woman, and I'd certainly not bring them here if I had. Yeesh, I've heard them all before, anyways. Can't a guy be an introvert in peace?
"Uh, hello?" I said. The figure put its arms down and I jumped out of bed, backing up to the wall. "I know karate!" I shouted, panic making me stupid. After a few seconds of no more movement, I edged over to the door and flipped on my lights.
It was a woman. A tall, thin woman with a willowy figure. Her eyes were focused on nothing, her face blank. She had tan skin and dark hair, and her eyes were completely black, even the whites. And she was completely nude. My mind bounced around in my skull like a ping-pong ball on fast forward. Confusion warred with fear and horniness, and emerged triumphant over both, though fear wasn't quite dead, yet.
"Hello?" I said again.
She fixed her gaze upon me. "Jerry Williams," she said, a strange accent audible in the way she pronounced my name. "I have waited many lifetimes for this day."
A grin appeared on her features and she suddenly rushed towards me, stopping with her hands gripping my upper arms and her face an inch from mine. "Do you want to learn about dung beetles?"
"What?" I asked, terrified and completely bewildered.
"Dung beetles!" She replied, brightly, "They're fascinating little creatures. Did you know that some of them can bury up to two hundred and fifty times their own body weight in dung in a single night?"
"What?" I asked again.
"Okay, what about Wickerstedt? It's a part of Bad Sulza now, which is a shame, because it's the hometown of Thomas Naogeorgus, who was a simply amazing playright and poet who-"
"Who the hell are you, lady?" I finally blurted out. She cocked her head to one side and then laughed, booping my nose with one finger.
"I'm Sarisa, silly. You made a sacrifice to me earlier. I'm sorry it took so long to get here, but no-one has sacrificed anything to me for thousands of years. I needed time to get my energy back. So what do you want to know? I can tell you about all kinds of things. Did you know that there's a physicist in Italy who gave up on a paper he was working on just an hour ago, after an experiment seemed to falsify his theory, but another physicist in Copenhagen is currently writing a paper that will show that the experiment didn't actually falsify anything... Okay, you're zoning out. Why don't you tell me what you want to learn about?"
She walked over and sat down on my bed.
"Uh..." I said, being the silver-tongued devil that I am.
I took a breath. I still had no idea what was happening here, but I decided to run with it.
"I want to learn about you," I told her.
She smiled again, a little sadly, then pointed at her breasts and spread her legs. "Sorry, I'm not that kind of a goddess."
I blinked in confusion, and then I noticed she had no nipples. And no... Uh... Well, you know. Just smooth skin. I shook my head.
"No, I'm not flirting with you, I'm writing a dissertation on the history of education, and... Well, I wanted to start as close to the beginning as possible."
"Oh," she said, chipper and grinning again. She patted the bed beside her. "Well, that I can do. Come, sit down. I'll tell you all about myself. My first worshipper was this woman named Gil, which is why I'm a goddess and not a god. She had this idea of gathering all the kids in her tribe and showing them..."
I grabbed my notepad and sat down. | She existed as a single sentence in an article full of waning gods and goddesses. She was the goddess of lonely souls, Chloe. There wasn't a better choice, I thought, as I went to the kitchen and poured the rest of my beer down the sink. I knew if I drank anymore I'd be too sick to work in the morning. And I knew if I didn't pour it out, in my glistening moment of drunken clarity, that I'd drink it later.
"Cheers, Chloe," I said, watching the amber liquid disappear in the drain. "Maybe this'll help you with your loneliness. God knows it helps me."
I threw the beer can in the recycling bin, but it just bounced off the mountain of cans that was already there. I told myself I'd clean it up in the morning, as I walked like a zombie to my bed. I closed my eyes and the world spun around me.
The alarm blared. I winced. There wasn't anything I wanted more than to stay in bed and sleep, but bills existed. I pressed my palms against my temple. How much longer could I endure?
After looking over emails that had come overnight from people who actually enjoyed working, I took a shower. The hot water helped my headache some. While in the kitchen, heading back to my office (bedroom), I saw the recycling that had been overflowing last night was empty. I shrugged and thought maybe I had woken up in the middle of the night to clean. It wouldn't have been the first time I blacked out on a weeknight.
Back in my office, though, I saw it wasn't me at all who had cleaned the mess.
Sitting on my bed was a girl who looked a lot like myself. She had dark bags under her eyes, and her hair was messy. Her clothes were wrinkly. She scratched at her head and yawned. I already knew who she was.
"Good morning, Chloe. If you're gonna be staying here, you'd better pay rent." I sat down at my chair and pecked away at some code.
"Hey," she said. Her voice was deep and sultry, but it didn't incite passion in me. There was something about it that was peculiar; I couldn't figure out what.
The more she talked, the closer I got to deciphering her tone. "Looks like you're the first to worship me in a millennia," she said. "Thank you, I guess."
I figured her voice out. Yes, she was just like me. Deathly tired of living, beaten down by the daily drudgery of life.
"What now?" I asked. I took my eyes away from my laptop and looked at her. It was like looking into a mirror. She desperately needed a hug, and some rest.
"I'm not sure," she said. "It's been a long time since I was summoned. To be honest, I wish you hadn't."
"Sorry," I said, understanding completely. "If I had known, I wouldn't have. I know what it's like to do things you don't want to." I pointed to my laptop. Its screen's harsh light hurt my eyes. Forty more years of this, I told myself. Then, maybe, if I had made enough money, and the market didn't crash, I could rest. That was the dream that was supposed to keep me going, but it wasn't doing a good job. Who the fuck can live for something that's two lifetimes away?
"It's okay," she said. "It's not your fault. You didn't know any better. You're just a kid."
"Just a kid?" I asked, offended. "Could 'just a kid' afford a nice apartment like this? Could 'just a kid' hold down a job that paid six figures? Could 'just a kid' come up with an algorithm that saved his company millions of dollars? I'm an adult. Besides, you don't look much older than me yourself."
The edge of her lips curled into the tease of a smile. "I'm a goddess, you know," she said, slowly getting up from the bed. "I'm much older than I look."
Even the way she moved seemed tired. "You don't seem to be enjoying yourself," she said. She moved towards me. "Life is meant to be a gift."
I sighed. "It's just work," I said. "Everybody has to do it. Humanity wouldn't be able to go on otherwise."
"Is that what you think?" she said, as she grabbed my hand and brought me to my feet.
Staring at her face, my face, I wanted to cry. How did this happen? When had it all gone wrong?
Then, as she wrapped her arms around me and brought me into an embrace, my heart threatened to burst. She was warm, so fucking warm. I had never felt somebody so kind before. Somebody so loving. I didn't even know it was possible.
I couldn't fight anymore. Like a child seeing his pet goldfish die, I cried. I cried, because she was right. I cried, because the thing I was hugging smelled just like beer. I cried, thinking about how this would last for another forty years. I cried, because I struggled to remember the times I had been happy. I cried, because if I didn't, I might have done something worse, something irreversible.
"See?" she said, holding me tighter. "Just a kid still."
And then, she disappeared, and all that was waiting for me was an incoming call on my screen to talk about something nobody cared about. | 2022-02-15T11:18:40 | 2022-02-15T11:10:28 | 1,504 | 505 |
[WP] It’s the birth of a new universe, and you’re trying out to become a war god. But, that role was already filled, and you got booted to a fertility god. At first you’re upset, not sure where to start, but then you start to get an idea. After all: “love is a battlefield” | Bai-leh looked down from his vantage point in the towering qo’Sor above the green plains of Balduq. The smile was favorable, though the motion was more snarl than pleasant. His village had sent word there was to be a match, and he loved how his people paired up. If they survived, the match would last past the harvest and the hunts of the cycle of the satellite they called Praxis. The snarl widened.
It took little time to go to the surface, and then to travel swiftly, as a God should, to his village amongst the foothills. The structures, which he noticed had been let to fall into disrepair since he had last been there, were covered in fresh hides. He would have not said decorated, but he saw that the larders of his village would be full enough for him to take what he wished back to qo’Sor. The rough looking people who were in the field genuflected to him, and he let them see his magnificent snarl of a smile.
The village leader, he would not say elder as most of those who resided there had barely grown beards let alone the grey of wisdom, approached.
“Great Bai-leh! We are honored.”
The God nodded and took the throne of stone and hides that had been placed at the edge of the gleaned field. He saw a paddock beyond his people filled with targ, as was fitting for a sacrifice. There were some good-natured shoving and laughter over striking each other as they all awaited the main ceremony.
There was a yell, and then laughter. And then a scattering of some of his villagers. A warrior, dressed in what could have been his best armor and draped with the skin of what should have been his greatest hunt kill ran through the gathered crowd. Bai-leh was concerned for a moment, until he saw some pottery arc overhead and hit the man in the middle of the back. It did not knock him down, but it did stagger him. There was laughter from the crowd.
The fierce figure that strode past the crowd was indeed a catch. Her form-fitting armor had been soaked in the blood of her last hunt, the red and purple of the gore drying into patterns that swirled like her anger. She had a large staff in her hand and it looked like she was about to strike the man who was trying to doge her.
This was going to be an excellent wedding. | "That's it, we're breaking up!" Hitler said, storming out of the room.
"Frick you too!" Eva yelled after him. "Frick you-" She sat down on the sofa and started sobbing.
Hitler rampaged down the stairs and paused outside the building.
Always.
Again and again it happened, she was so horrible, she didn't care for him at all, he felt wretched.
This time, for sure, they were breaking up for good.
His shaking hands unconsciously drew a cigarette and lit it. Blood was pounding behind his eyes, he wasn't being able to think clearly, could barely appreciate the cool March morning, the beautiful emptiness of the street. Empty streets can be beautiful, but he was raging too much to notice. He didn't even notice a building further down the same street, on which a sniper was taking aim.
Bang! The sniper's aim was perfect, godly. The love bullet enlodged itself deep into Adolf's shoulder. It would leave wound marks, but there would be no bleeding, no pain.
Adolf's body recoiled with the bullet, but his brain didn't notice. He suddenly felt an overwhelming swell of affection for Eva. He had wronged her, she was so wonderful. He discarded the cigarette and rushed back in to reconcile.
The sniper was already packing his rifle away into a black case. Usually, dissatisfied couples needed 2 or 3 bullets at most, but Hitler
had been needing constant attention for the last few months. No matter. It was imperative they stayed together. They were completely toxic for each other. The ensuing marital dissatisfaction and frustration would increase the war's mortality rate by at least 20%. | 2021-01-11T05:12:58 | 2021-01-11T04:32:12 | 677 | 144 |
[WP] A prankster in the future rigged a tank with speakers blasting heavy metal, traveled back to the 1400s, and went on a 2 month havoc filled joyride. Now in 2022 you are reading the legends born from those that witnessed this event. | 15 March 1322
To my lord Sire Johan, King of Stadtbourgville,
I humbly entreat and beseech thee. Our suffering is great, and our cause has proven to be unjust. Please allow us to return to the fold of Stadtbourgville -- we will return to you all power temporal and spiritual that we arrogated, and pay whatever tribute you deem just -- all we have is rightfully yours! I will bow the knee and swear fealty to thee again, and repudiate my false faith. Only dismiss the demon that you have loosed onto our land. Its appetite is ravenous and insatiable; all our arms and armor are worthless against it; its cries turn the bravest warrior into a sobbing wreck. Our priests have attempted every method of exorcism in their holy books -- to no avail. At my insistence they even opened the books of your religion that they deem heretical, but God has still not answered them. Barely a structure in the land, other than the serfs' grass hovels, remains untouched. Name thy demand and we shall meet it -- or else we are ruined. What good is that to thee? I beg for thy mercy and forgiveness, though I know we do not deserve it.
Sincerely,
Your eternal vassal Beaulieu.
---
15 March 1322
[ Royal Insignia ]
Johan, Rightful King of Stadtbourgville,
To the treacherous, insolent rascal Beaulieu:
What! Is it not enough that you break our treaty and pretend to set up your own kingdom in lands that We granted you? Is it not enough that you stray from the True Faith and have hired mercenary priests from afar to corrupt the minds of the peasantry? Is it not enough that you hinder legitimate trade and commerce imposing illegal tariffs? Is your hatred so insufficient that you must also perform witchcraft? For We know the origin of the demon that has been ravaging our lands. You cannot hide it -- its tracks (so unlike any natural creature) are plain to see. It clearly came from your lands. We hold you personally responsible for each stalk of wheat, each stone wall, each horse and soldier overrun without mercy. Surrender now, and you may yet avoid war.
His Royal Highness Johan
King by the Grace of God of Stadtbourgville [ Royal Seal] | **The tale of the Running door of Hell**
The legends tell of the door of the Hous of the Devil.
Bigger than the tallest Man longer than a house and strong enough to hold everything except the screams of the spirits trapped in hell.
One Day the Devil decided to build a house. Bigger than any castle and high enough to break into heaven.
He started with the walls. Made out of stones from battlefields tainted crimson. The windows were made out of crystallized tears of Maidens that died before they turned 16. It didn't have a Roof to show everything to the people in heaven. The Door was made out of the rust from weapons used to slaughter innocent people.
One day The devil was not contented with his house and ordered the door to bring more people.
And it did. You could hear it for miles. The screams, the fighting, and the fires of hell. The Jagged marks of the devil show everyone its path. Some say it climbs mountains no horse could ever ascend, and can destroy castle walls. Sometimes one spirit comes out and steals Food. We don't know why but people think if you throw food in its way that will appease it.
We must pray every day that the Devil has enough and commands it back.
The door is gone nobody saw it for 3 full moons. But what it left is as bad if not more so.
It was not here to take but to bring. The spirits of the dead. And they take people with them.
Not just here but everywhere. They find you and they take you back, to give the devil the full house he wanted. | 2022-03-15T09:59:10 | 2022-03-15T09:58:38 | 149 | 77 |
[WP]You are a guard in a video game. The main character thinks that they are always able to successfully sneak past you. They don't, you notice every time but would prefer not to have you and your friends be mercilessly slaughtered. | Vibrations from the club behind me muffled every drop of water that met the ground. I realised this is going to be one long, damp night.
“Hey, uh… Joey?” the guy beside me spoke loudly over the sound of the rain.
“The boss said he don’t wanna be bothered tonight, he needs a little privacy with his wif- uhm, wives”.
I sigh, knowing that this means tonight is the night *he* will come, as the likely target is at high risk; with all of his men scared to disrupt his piggish acts in the bedroom.
My fears were confirmed as I caught a glimpse of that bald-headed psychopath ‘stealthily’ meandering through the traffic of people and into the club’s adjoining alleyway. That bastard had cost me three jobs that month, I couldn’t seem to find a reliable employer who didn’t have a large price on his fat head.
I could’ve stopped him right there, but at what price? Is it worth risking everything: my life, my career, my family; all for some idiot assassin and the right to brag about his long-awaited murder? The satisfaction of snapping that prick’s neck would be its own reward.
*No.* I told myself. *Wait until the time is right.*
I was snapped out of this bleak spiral of thinking by the comfort of my best friend and co-worker, Billy, who had just emerged from that same alley. Bill was the greatest friend a man could ask for; had a great sense of humour, was selflessly generous; and always, no questions asked, stood up for me in a fight.
“Didn’t see him did ya?” I asked cautiously.
“Nah,” he replied, “I was just gonna go check in on the... entertainment” he uttered, perversely licking his lips.
This was odd, as I had always thought Billy was a strict Catholic, and an asexual one at that. However, despite this, I dismissed his peculiar claim and let him inside the club.
Mere minutes passed before I was propelled forward from my position at the door of the establishment to the pavement below it, by several under-clothed women. Screaming, their disgusted voices echoed through the night streets, as they proclaimed in terror that he had touched each and every one of them inappropriately.
*Impossible.* I thought. *Billy said he had never even seen him.*
Then, the realisation hit me like a bullet.
I leapt up to my feet, sprinting around to the alleyway where my friend lay, soaked in both blood and rain. My knees collapsed before him as I cried for assistance, ignoring the deafening gunshots and yells from the top of the club above me.
After a brief attempt at reviving my lost friend, I cursed the name ‘Agent 47’ under the moonlight, and sat bewildered at my own gullibility.
| “Shh,” he sounded, “do you hear that?” The screams of Rory and Monty echoed through the chambers in unison like a choir conducted by death himself.
I stopped in my tracks, like a dear in headlights,
and looked up at him, forcing a slow, but forceful nod in his direction. He made a careful, but swift motion towards the gun in his holster and unclipped it, only to notice me then forcefully shaking my head, my body still poised like a statue.
I raised my hand slowly and extended it in his direction. “Leave it,” I whispered.
“But—”
“Leave it.”
His hand lifted slowly from the gun as he raised both arms as if to surrender himself to me. “What the hell are we supposed to do then?” I looked past him towards the janitors closet, and gestured towards it with my chin. “Again? Fuck, man, it smells in there.”
“Do you wanna fucking die?” I exclaimed in an angry sigh.
“Ummm…” He took a step back, and his hand lowered back down to his pistol, forcing his fingers to slowly curl around the grip.
“What?” I stood straight and slowly turned around to see the hero stood still and staring at us both. “Fuck,” I mumbled. I began to take slow steps backwards and unclipped my pistol from its pouch.
The hero, however, remained perfectly still, perched precariously in the doorway, staring aimlessly in our direction.
*Why isn’t he moving?* I thought to myself. *This has never happened before.*
Voices from the heavens began to speak in muffled, but audible tones, “why aren’t they attacking me?” The hero remained perfectly still. “Should I leave them alone?” The hero remained perfectly still. “Is it a glitch?” The hero remained perfectly still.
We continued to take slow and careful steps backwards, our hands firmly around our pistols, hoping that nothing more would come of this encounter.
“Yea, take them out,” the voice returned, and in a flash I heard a muffled scream from my compatriot behind me.
“Fucking online gamers,” I mumbled, before a bullet pierced my back and tore through my heart. | 2017-05-29T04:01:59 | 2017-05-29T01:00:55 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] You are a child, born into slavery via artificial insemination, in order to pay off your dead parents debt.
Upon death, if a debt is held and no heir exists to inherit it, the owner of the debt may have a child born with the DNA of the one in debt. The child is then required to work towards paying off the debt at which point they are terminated. | Ever Corp's headquarters looked like a huge oblong, slightly more elongated along the western wall, where the plushy sales offices were. Not that any of the Ever bodies would know. Adam had spent most of his life in the other half of an Ever Corp facility; from creche to school to offices.
Debt in the thirties had reached such a point that a man could not reasonably be expected to pay it off within his lifetime. At first laws were passed, such that debts were passed down, like a pair of long-worn out socks, from father to son. Down through the lines.
Imagine turning 18 and finding out you have four generations of debt, interest compounded, just waiting to suck up every last chip on your paycheque each month. All of this put the debt collectors at a bit of disadvantage however if said debtor perished childless. Rear ended by a semi or the classic aneurism at forty; generations of debt, past and future, wiped out in an instant. It wouldn't do. Adam's father had died on a motorway, fixing a broken axel because he couldn't afford a decent repair.
Nowadays you need three things to sign a loan; your name, your ID and your blood. Who, where and what you are. So now, when mister bigspender croaks after stuffing half a kilo of co-mex up his nose, Ever Corp (or one of their subsidiaries) can keep the bloodline going. Adam's father had never settled down. Never had a kid of his own.
It's not slavery. Per se. The kid gets a life, or as much of one as Ever Family Services can provide with all the expenses added to the life debt. And when they turn 18, they start paying. Two things in life used to be certain: death and taxes. Alleviate the former and and reap the latter. To the corporate execs it was a landmark, an infinite supply of workers. Never again would a debt go unpaid.
Ever bodies, like Adam, had two numbers in their lives. Their ID and their amount owed. The latter had more numbers than the other. The problem began when the former began to grow. Ever Corp started growing thousands of kids, then millions.
Adam had spent his whole life counting down his number. Ever Corp realised the danger of uncontrolled growth, so found a way to kill two birds with one stone. Well, really it was killing one bird, but you got lots of stones out of it.
The average human body is worth about two million chips. You've got the organs, tissue and the like. A healthy set of lungs still beat the best prosthetics for now. Throw in the carbon offset from removing yourself from the atmosphere and Ever Corp will happily write off the last percentage of your debt.
So here Adam stood, the last of his line, signing away the last chip he'd ever have to pay. | Logan counted down the days to freedom. It was always the same. No one told him directly, but it was always the same. Once the debt was paid, you weren't terminated directly. That couldn't happen. The state wouldn't allow it. They had to take out the tracker to be used in some other slave. The explosives that would kill if he tried to escape had to be removed from his neck. Once that happened, it was off to the showers, but Logan had heard stories, stories of runners. Logan had even read a book about another Logan running from death. Before the time before the book, he was only known by his number, 105439343. Now, only to himself, he was Logan.
The day comes. He goes to the slaughterhouse. That's what was called. There was no masking it. He was going to be made into dog and cat food. People didn't want to eat him. He was the lowest class of meat. The first technician he visits digs into his arm and removes his tracker. The second injects his neck with the anti-explosive device. Next was the showers. One man leads them. Another man follows. There were hundreds of them herded to their death. He moves to the front of the line before he sees the watchtowers. He grabs the leader. He twists his head until his neck snaps.
Bullets tear the group apart. Logan tries to climb the walls, but it doesn't work. Shots ring out from the back. He only has one hope, to rush into the showers. He does. He sees a door. He beats on it and kicks it. Others join him, but the door behind them closes. The showers turn on. He keeps beating on the door, but he doesn't know that it's not real, his last gasping breaths spent struggling for freedom. Logan will run no more.
***
If you like this story, I have a subreddit[ r/nickkuvaas](http://www.reddit.com/r/nickkuvaas) with more, and I am also the spotlight author of the week. Ask me a question. | 2015-10-02T14:53:52 | 2015-10-02T14:43:01 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] You're a supervillain with a superhero as your arch-nemesis. When they come out to the world about their depression and mental health, others call them weak and there is backlash. You, however, are the first one to support them publicly. | *Ahem*
I always believed what elevated a villain to a super villain was their sense of *style*. But my unique, snazzy, often explosive ways of contacting you plebes are starting to be expected. ^(I know, Paradoxical.) And so, I have chosen to host a press conference, something wholly unexpected and therefore being able to drill into a much bigger audience, what will likely be the most important thing I'll ever say.
&#x200B;
My nemesis, the recently renamed Impenetrable^(— god, which idiot told him that was a better name—) Well, they have decided to tell us of their still continuing struggles with depression. This is in my opinion one of the bravest things Impenetrable has done in my decade of knowing them, and I will fully support them in any way I can.
That being said, My solidarity with Imp— Yeah, no, I'm not calling them that anymore. What was their previous name? They had that for a month. Something starting with O, right? Something like Omni—ohhhhh.
Yea, I'll just call them Arch like I used to. ^(People know him better as Impenetrable, my ass.)
That being said, My solidarity with Arch, while more than enough to call this conference, is not the only reason I am here.
&#x200B;
I expected a few dozen or so degenerates to mock Arch for his ongoing battles. I'd have just zapped them and changed the chemical balance in their brain, preferably without Arch knowing— They'd just reverse it after all. With those... bad apples hidden, I mean gone, we as a community could help Arch.
What I didn't expect was more than half of this so-called society to deride Arch for being, well, human.
I couldn't believe you fools. You call me evil, while you continue to beat Arch down when he's at the weakest, when even I wouldn't hurt him. Tell me, who is the real villain here?
I probably should have zapped everyone here, to make you understand an iota of what Arch is going through. The only reason I didn't is because Arch asked me not to. How he knew what I was going to do, I'll never know, but consider yourselves lucky that Arch doesn't want you heartless creature to experience his demons.
Maybe I should have just held hostage a dozen kids or so till you learnt at least some amount of empathy, and decency. But I doubt anything I said or wanted you to understand would have gone through those thick head of yours. Best case scenario, I'd have traumatized bunch of kids and parents, and angered an entire city....
Or maybe— WHAT DID YOU SAY GENERAL?!
....
\[1/3\] | „Damn, I‘ve never done one of those before.“ I mumble, while I straighten my tie for the what had to
Be 15th time. „At least…officially.“ I chuckled.
The door opened and my secretary, Claire, looked in. „They are ready for you, Mr. Noir.“ I nodded gratefully. That woman was truly a blessing. Without her my whole evil empire would fall apart. She managed to
Cobble together this press conference within a couple of hours since the news. Donning my signature black mask, I strode outside. *Boy, they all came. Room is really cramped with Reporters*
Taking a seat, Claire quickly made introductions and the stage was mine.
„Dear Reporters, especially those of the daily news…sorry again for your headquarters. My death ray went a bit woozy and I really am all for freedom of speech and stuff…“ Claire audibly cleared her throat. „Anyway, welcome you all. As you are all aware, there has been a situation regarding White Knight. And now everyone listen closely. Talking about your problems is hard, especially as a figure of public interest. Mental
Health is just as important as physical health. You don‘t expect people to walk on a broken leg!
If I hear anyone badmouthing White knight, I‘ll personally stand you in Front of my newst experiments and after I‘ll flay you till you…AHHHHHHHHH!“ Claire ground her Heel into my foot. „Sir, no evil monologuing on official press releases.“
„Thank you. As I was saying. I really hope, White Knight can take some much needed time of and get some professional help. I promise, I‘ll lay nice and low till you return and cook up something extra evil for you to fight once you‘re up and running again!“
I looked into the crowd. They seemed adequatly terrified. „So, any further questions?“ | 2022-06-21T10:53:05 | 2022-06-21T10:42:29 | 48 | 34 |
[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. | My hands are shaking and my clothes are clinging to me from how much I am sweating. I just need one more. Just one more, and all of this will go away. I will be able to breathe again, be calm again.
I pull myself off of my couch and start frantically pulling up the cushions, looking for change. A quarter, a penny, a nickle, another quarter. I end up finding over 2 dollars.
This should be enough.
I leave my apartment and start heading towards the nearest convenience store. I start at a slow walk, and I keep getting faster and faster until I'm basically sprinting towards the store. My body can't wait any longer.
I arrive and throw the door open and make a beeline for the register. I ask for a pack of Swisher Sweets and a lighter, throw my handful of change on the counter, and walk back outside. I try opening the package, my sweaty, shaking hands slipping several times, but eventually I get it. I raise one of them to my lips, light it, and take a long, slow pull.
My eyes close.
Close, but no cigar.
| 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. | 2015-05-16T06:59:50 | 2015-05-16T01:33:27 | 106 | 36 |
[WP] Bob Ross was actually a serial killer that painted where he buried his victims. His paintings are becoming suspicious and the body count is rising.
Inspired by comments in r/art | Bob ran the brush through a thick glob of oil paint and wiped the excess on his pants.
It was nighttime, eerily quiet.
Bob gently tapped the brush against the canvas, filling in a line of pine trees with a dusting of snow.
Outside, the wind howled and beat against the sides of the cabin. Snow had piled so high in only a matter of hours, Bob had to clear the chimney of ice for the fire thrice. The fire that, at the moment, was the only thing keeping him alive. Well that... and the unfinished business. Business that must be finished.
But first, the painting.
Bob smiled to himself and stood back, admiring the intricacy of the painted landscape. Reminiscent of Aspen, the forest scene pulled at his emotions. Well it should! This was to be a successful night!
He began to float off into day dreams, knowing that time was on his side. He didn't need to rush. As he sometimes did, Bob began to imagine the faces of those he'd "explored".
A young girl from FL. Brown hair. Green eyes. Her screams reminded him of birds cawing.
A teenage boy from CA. Football player. Bit back, but eventually gave up.
A mother from WA. Blonde with a soccer mom complex. Tennis shoes. Perfume.
He let the feeling of euphoria consume him for a moment, ignoring any doubts.
Sirens broke this happy daze, loud and coming towards the cabin. Bob dashed to the window, and sure enough the blues and reds of two law enforcement vehicles echoed against the trees. He froze, calculating in his head. It had to be now.
Bob scrambled around the room, gathering several things in a pack. He threw on a thick parka, boots, and gloves. Tossing the pack over his back, he returned to the painting.
Bob slipped a marker from his pocket, bending down to the right hand corner of the canvas. He signed.
"Ross. Thanks Again."
He glanced to the cellar door, feeling an odd sense of longing. It was only a moment. He had made a choice now. This last one would be a sacrifice. She would live.
Giving the cabin one last look, Bob slipped out the back door and into the snow. The lights were brighter now, and heavy footstep could be heard not far off. Bob smiled and started towards a hidden path into the trees. He would begin again, but now there was only waiting.
| It started with the 403 projects. 403 paintings by Bob Ross. Someone on youtube started gaining traction when he figured out Bob was painting actual places. He was one of those guys who always had money because of family, and he filmed himself traveling to each location in remembrance of Bob. It was sweet.
Episode 12, Snow Fall - it was painting of a snowy mountain by a town in Canada. Our friend was walking through the episode when he spotted a tree with a paint brush carved into it with the initial BR. The video showed a decayed hand before it shut out.
Episode 20 and again in Episode 32. The same carving, the same initials, and the same decayed corpse. From then on, it was as if in each episode the youtube star was searching for it. Well he found it.
Episode 34, 35, 37, and 38. We found it there. The authorities started to revisit old episodes. They found a new body underneath a carving of a paint brush and initials.
I remember seeing an interview with Steve Ross, his son. Poor guy, he was teary eyed and apologized for the sins of his father. They checked his paintings too. He was clean.
The 403 project adopted a new, more exciting definition. 322 bodies found out of 403. People across the world are now re-watching his videos with a renewed fascination, formulating theories about his character.
In the end, they found 380 of 403 bodies. Unable to find the remaining.
Authorities have theorized that Bob had strangled his victims to death before stabbing them multiple times, in a way very similar to his dabbing of paint brushes on canvas. Leaving multiple tiny little wounds across the victims body.
Across the board by coincidence or not, all victims have had especially long silky hair.
| 2022-02-01T07:29:40 | 2017-01-04T22:44:56 | 464 | 14 |
[WP] Nonfiction - Tell Us About Your First kiss.
Or, if you must, tell us about *a* first kiss. Either way, it has to have actually happened.
Edit: You guys are wonderful, keep 'em coming! | I was a sophomore in high school on summer break. My two sisters were in college, and my parents thought it a good idea for me to spend a week with them... get some of that "college experience."
Bloomington, Indiana is a nice town. The scenery is pretty, and the IU campus is a pleasure to walk in. IU's party scene is... well... slightly more intense than the normal college.
My sisters decided that I would need to go to a college party. My clothes were currently in the wash, so I had to wear some of my sister's boyfriend's clothing.
The party was a relatively modest house party, with no more than 15 people present. Of course, as soon as I was there, I was the star. "This kid needs to get DRUNK!" "Yeah, let's corrupt him! WOOOO!"
It started off with a shot of whiskey, then a beer, and past that my memory is spotty. I didn't want to drink, but in that situation, I had to.
Everybody else, however, was drinking FAR MORE than I was, and FAR MORE then they needed to to get to the desired level of inebriation.
Then it came. My sister, behind me, saw me in her boyfriend's clothes. Without warning, I felt a hand on my ass and a tender kiss on my face.
The look on her face made the whole ordeal worth it. | I met the girl in band. It was in seventh grade, she was in eighth. She was one of my best friends and I liked her the whole time. But, I was too afraid to make a move. She went to high school, and I went to eighth. That year passed and I gained a lot of courage. We became best friends. I was a generally annoying guy. So one day I annoyed the hell out of her. Typical freshman stuff right? She said she'd do anything to get me to stop. I told her I'd think about it. Two weeks later we were at a dance. I told her I has my answer. She smiled and asked what it was. I told her and bam. That was the exact answer she had been looking for. | 2014-04-01T07:36:00 | 2014-04-01T05:56:59 | 38 | 13 |
[WP] Whenever you speak, people hear you speaking in their native language. Most people are surprised and delighted. The cashier at McDonalds you've just talked to is horrified. "Nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years." | “Nobody’s spoken that language in thousands of years.” Whispered the cashier, dropping my McNuggets. “I thought I was the last one! I can’t believe there’s more survivors! I mean, you skin is a little more pale than I would expect but who cares? Follow me, we need to talk!”
“But my McNuggets” I said
“Don’t worry, I’ll make you however many nuggets you want if you come sit and talk with me.”
I shrugged and decided I would entertain this guy. I wasn’t really listening to what he was saying but I wanted to entertain this little crazy man. We sat down in a small booth far away from anymore McDonalds connoisseurs and he started to talk.
“So, how did you escape? What do you remember? Are there more like you and me out there?”
“Look buddy I have no idea what you’re talking about, escape from what?”
“From the earthquake of course! What else would I be talking about?”
“There was an earthquake? What language are you hearing right now exactly?”
“ATLANTEAN OF COURSE!”
Now this threw me back.
“What? Atlantis is fake my guy.”
“Well then why are you speaking fucking Atlantean?”
“I’m not, I’m just talking! What happened in ‘Atlantis’ that I should be worried about, hmmm?”
A look of sadness and remembrance came over his face.
“Well I’m from there. Over 1000 years ago my island was swallowed by the ocean. Earthquakes, fires, tsunamis... they plowed over my island and I was lucky to have been on a traders ship outside of Atlantis’ main port.”
“What makes you think I’m going to believe you?” I said, actually quite curious now. Either he was a good actor or telling the truth.
“Well, Atlanteans live forever unless killed, and since I’ve been around for that long I have some pretty neat stuff back home that might convince you.”
“As long as you get me my fucking McNuggets.”
________________________
________________________
Hey r/WritingPrompts , long time lurker first time poster here. I left a lot of plot holes, I know. But the first thing I thought of was Atlantis and I wanted to do something with it. I have an idea for more of this story but my formatting and the gaps between my dialogue made me cringe too much to keep going.
Don’t tear me apart pls | All my life I have been able to subconsciously translate my speech to match the original language of who I am talking to.
It was quite terrifying at first. speaking Polish to my Mom when I was 2 minutes old was quite the tale. The poor Korean woman at Walmart...
Anyways, life had gone on as usual. Occasionally, I would get compliments on my knowledge of language, or cause arguments from people thinking I spoke one way or another, but no huge events had arisen.
At least, until McDonalds.
I went in, expecting it to be a normal day. I was craving a cheeseburger. I make my way up to the register. It’s a flashy British man taking the order.
“I’ll have one Cheeseburger, please.” I say. He stops, and stares at me. I probably had just surprised him by speaking some other language, and so I waited. He smirks.
“Finally!” He says, in a somewhat relieved tone. “I’ve been waiting here for 2 years, you know!”
He hopped over the counter, and grabbed me by the wrist. “You and I have some business to attend to.” He said, as he dragged me out of the McDonalds.
I looked behind me, and saw the other customers horrified at the events that are taking place.
“Who the hell are you, and what do you want!?” I said, angry and confused.
He turned around, and looked me directly in the eye.
“I’m the Doctor. I was sent a message by my future self to wait at this McDonalds until a man speaking Gallifreyan arrived.”
Been watching too much Doctor Who recently. r/cringe material right here boys.
EDIT: Formatting. | 2022-06-29T16:29:01 | 2018-06-24T21:53:14 | 647 | 28 |
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